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cottoncandy-cult · 2 days

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❝ 𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐘! ❞

❝ COME ON, FUCK ME, EMO BOY!! ❞

✧ pairing: emo boy! choso kamo x f!reader ✧ summary: saw this boy at the mall last week. got the kind of look to make me freak. wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic? ✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, emo boy! choso, sex toys (vibrators, clit sucker), multiple orgasms, semi-exhibitionism, public sex (sex in the back of hot topic, sex in a changing room), fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), big dick choso (but honey, that dick was 11 inches), also mahito + yuji make appearances, art by @/SS_utr3n. ✧ wc: 5.3K

It had been a while since you had stepped into a Hot Topic (a while meaning three days or three years, take your pick). But this had been the third time this week you had been to this specific Hot Topic, and now you were sure the manager of the place had your badly taken picture and description scrawled in some notebook as a potential shoplifter.

But it wasn’t the merchandise you were looking to pick up.

It was him.

You saw him when you were browsing the clearance rack, knelt down, evaluating whether you needed another blind box item that will inevitably not contain the character you were looking for (but on the plus side, it was on sale?), when you heard a deep voice speak.

“Excuse me,” you glance up as you spot him — and you swear your breath gets stuck somewhere between your windpipe and your lungs, because you don’t breathe while this man kneels down next to you to place more items on clearance. Spiky black locks tied up messily on either side, fringe bangs falling in front of his face as he bent down, a tattoo across the bridge of his nose and was that — dark purple eyeshadow around his eyes — and his eyes — god, his eyes were gorgeous, a deep dark brown — and you swore, was that a hint of purple in his irises?

He was everything that your teen self had wanted — the same guys whose profiles you had looked at growing up and thought were so hot. You caught a glance at the My Chemical Romance t-shirt as he stood, in black jeans, as he catches you staring, “Can I help you find something?” His tone was casual, but he was curious — probably curious why you were staring at him with wide-eyed saucers.

“No, no, sorry, I—” no, don’t tell the hot Hot topic worker that he is hot — first of all its confusing, second of all— “I just wanted to say, I like your t-shirt,”

Fuck. out of all the things to say — I like your style, I like your fit, I like your hair — you had to pick the most generic ass comment.

He only nods, but you catch the barest upward twitch of the corner of his lip, “thanks,”

And that’s all it took — you now needed to see him smile.

Over the next few days innocently shopping at Hot Topic, you find out his name is Choso from one of the other workers, Mahito, calling his name. His hair is usually in those buns, but one of the days his hair was down, and you heard him complain that his hair ties had snapped.

And his hair looked so good down, his long inky locks fell past his shoulders, but this was your chance to talk to him — “i have some extra hair ties, if you want them,” you offer him a few hair ties, “I overheard you talking with the other worker, I hope you don’t mind,”

And he shakes his head, his lips quirked in that almost smile that makes your heart squeeze.

Fuck.

“Not at all, thank you,’ and his fingers brush yours as he takes the hair ties, and you turn to leave, but his voice stops you, “what was your name? I didn’t catch it last time,”

You tell him, smiling, “Your name is Choso, right? I saw it on your nametag,” and he’s biting his lip, tilting his head in question, as you flush, cheeks burning, “I’ve noticed you a couple times when I’ve come in— not in a weird way, I just—”

“I’ve noticed you too,” and finally he’s smiling — and you know he’s got you, you know you’re fucked.

And you do get fucked — in the back of Hot Topic during his break.

It had been a few weeks of you two talking and flirting, until finally, during his break he’s got you snuck into the back to show you the merchandise they haven’t put out yet. And you scoff when you come across a bullet vibrator, “you guys sell these?”

He shrugs, “They started to in the last few years, not a lot. They don’t want the parents to become too outraged, but just enough,” And you snort, turning the bullet over in your fingers curiously, “have you never used one before?”

And your cheeks burn, as you bite your lip, “No I never have,” and the next question stumbles out as a joke, “why? Wanna help me learn?” And you want to bite your tongue, but you’re too busy with the foot in your mouth to do so, and before you can apologize he speaks.

“I would,”

And your eyes snap to his, and you realize how close he’s standing, his eyes not filled with humor but something else — lust? — and his lips curled in a small smile.

Fuck.

“You’re gonna have to be a little quieter, love,” he’s murmuring in your ear, pressing kisses to your neck, as you’re pressed between his firm chest and the metal storage rack, fingers laced as you held on, the vibration between your thighs the only thing ringing in your ears.

But how can you be quiet?

The bullet vibrator is pressed right against your clit, and his thick fingers are parting your folds, so close to sinking into you, his deep voice whispering in your ear, hot breath against your neck.

And the coil in your stomach is only growing tighter and tighter, and your squeals only grow more and more insistent. His fingers sunk into your mouth, “suck,” he ordered, and your cunt twitches at the demand, as you do, sucking and licking messily on his fingers, “good girl,”

And he clicks the button of the vibrator again, increasing the vibration, making your eyes widen, a gasp around his fingers, “so responsive,” he groans, as your legs grow weak, and he’s stepping forward to steady you, but it also settles his dick between your ass.

He’s huge.

The bulge presses into you, drawing a hiss from his lips as you lean back against it, “Trying to tease me, sweetheart?” And he’s pulling his fingers from his mouth, a string of spit connecting from his fingers to your lips, “don’t forget who’s teaching you,” and he sinks his spit soaked fingers into your needy cunt, making your back arch into his body, “so tight, despite the vibrator,” he hums.

“Choso, please—” and he starts to fuck his fingers in and out, the squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears mixing with the buzz of the vibrator — you’re already so close, “I'm—”

“Cum for me,” he’s grunting, as his fingers reach even deeper inside you, dragging against your walls as he curls them, finding that one spot that has you seeing stars. And your moan as you cum is stifled against your own palm, as he only maxes out the vibration and fucks you through your orgasm, “one more for me, pretty, you can do it,”

“No, no, Choso, please too much, can’t—” and he only presses sweet kisses to your neck, and how are you already close — you just had orgasmed, but the coil in your stomach is growing tighter by the second, and you’re nearly crying when you cum again, your slick dripping down his fingers and the vibrator as he eases it from you, and then splatters onto the dirty tile floor of the backroom of Hot Topic.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he’s tilting your head back and around for a kiss. And you catch a glimpse of the glint of your release on his black painted nails as he presses the pads into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his digits and sucking them clean, “that’s it, clean up your mess f’me,” and his other hand is wiping the tears from your eyes, “so pretty when you cry — can’t wait to make you do it again.”

Your cunt twitches at the thought, your cum still dripping down your thighs, “Again?” and he’s pressing another sinful kiss to your lips, “You didn’t think this would be our only lesson, did you?”

And it wasn’t — the next lesson was spent in the fitting rooms, during a particular dead early afternoon in the store — and he had you spread on the fitting room bench, your black jeans pulled down to your ankles, as his head found its way between your thighs. You could barely hold back your whimpers as he pressed all too hot kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, burning already with his warm breath. It was too much.

He was too much.

“How’s that feel?” dark eyes flicking up to meet yours, half lidded with lust, as he watches your panting face, your head against the wall of the fitting room, “use your words, love,”

“Too good, Cho-so,” the last syllable of his names escapes your lips in a gasp, as your cunt twitches as his lithe fingers tease you through the soaked material of your panties, “please, please, need you,”

“What do you need?” and his fingers pull away, as his lips press a kiss to your puffy clit, pulling a whine from you, “what do you want me to do?”

“Please, just—” and he’s tugging your panties aside, cool air rushing over your all too hot pussy, “please just touch me — with your fingers or mouth—”

And his tongue drags over your messy cunt, and god, it feels too good — but a twinge makes you pause, and when you feel it draw a circle around your clit, you realize what it is — he has a tongue piercing. Your fingers thread their way in his black locks, resisting the urge to grab at his hair buns.

He grunts, vibrations against your wet cunt, as you pull him impossibly closer to where you needed him most, his nose bumping against your clit, “you smell so good — how’s that possible?” and your eyes squeeze shut as his hands press your thighs further apart.

That’s when you both hear the click of the entrance, and the door swinging shut — shit, the door — he forgot to lock it. Forgot when you had pulled him into a kiss right when he was ready to take a lunch break, all other thoughts had flown out of his brain once he let those doors swing shut and your lips had met his — well, left his brain and flooded southward. He also didn’t think a customer would be persistent enough to try the door and wander in when the doors were shut and the closed sign was hung up.

“Choso, should we—” and the footsteps draw closer — and fuck — did you get wetter? And tighter — his moan is muffled against your walls, “Choso, stop, we—”

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers, dark, half lidded eyes look up at you, your essence and his spit soaking his lips and dripping down his chin. And the footsteps are receding, the sounds of the shuffling and clinking of clothes hangers on racks in the distance, but all you can hear are the sounds of the wet, needy squelch of your cunt, “you aren’t being honest — but you are down here,” and his lips find your clit, sucking lightly, making your head jerk back, “want them to know how good I make you feel,” his lips leave your clit with a small pop, before murmuring against the soft skin of your thigh, “be quiet for me, baby,” and his tongue slips back into your cunt.

He’s nearly slurping your juices up, his tongue tasting every inch of you, deliciously dragging against your twitching walls with his piercing, as your toes curl and your mouth parts in a muffled moan, one hand clamped over your mouth, and the other digging into his scalp. How could the person not hear you? How couldn’t they hear the wet squelch of your cunt as Choso fucked it with his tongue? How couldn’t they hear your badly swallowed moans and the sounds of your heart pounding out of your chest — and if they did, they certainly didn’t care enough to stop browsing through the fucking store.

And you’re close, so fucking close, and you don’t hear the footsteps drawing close to the fitting rooms because your ears only can hear the wet suck of his mouth against your clit or the press of his tongue in and out of your folds, your thighs twitching under his grasp, fingers pressed into your flesh, “Choso, I’m so—”

“Cum f’me, need to feel you cum around my tongue,” he sucks on your clit hard, teeth grazing the sensitive spot, and you cum, hard, your hand forsaking your lips to find purchase on his head, squirting all over his face as you did, soaking him along with the bench of the fitting room. And you can’t help the whimpers and moans that left your lips, as he lapped up your release without a care.

And you slump against the wall of the fitting room, body still buzzing from your orgasm, as he finally pulls his tongue out, glancing up at you. Your chest heaves as you watch him lick your cum from his lips and chin, before wiping the rest away, and your eyes drift downward to the erection he was palming. And your fingers unconsciously reach for it, when your hear a door slam shut making your both jump.

You cover your mouth — the customer, and Choso’s eyes meets yours, as the two of you break out in a laugh, “Fucking lock the door next time,” you sigh, covering your burning face with your hands, as Choso chuckles, lips curled in a smile.

“So there’s going to be a next time?” he tilts his head, and you flush.

How could he go from eating you out like a desperate man without water to this innocent puppy? “Not if you don’t lock the door,”

“It’s their fault for coming in when the doors were closed and there was a sign that said closed in big letters on the door,” and you shake your head, as he draws closer, “now, I have twenty minutes of lunch left — so where were we?”

And you push him towards the changing room door, “Go lock the door first,” and he relents, chuckling.

“Just for that, I’m going to look for the clit sucker I couldn’t find before.”

~~~~

The two of you had fallen into a pattern.

And you had become a regular at Hot Topic. You hung around him as he stocked the shelves, did inventory, price re-labeling, and even as he spoke to customers. You watched other customers speak to Choso, even flirt with him, but he never cracked a smile. Two girls were very persistent, but they deflated as he walked away after answering their questions, brushing past you, his hand brushing against your ass discreetly. Heat rushes to your cheeks, your head snapping to him as his lips curl when your eyes catch his gaze. But even so…

You still were just as clueless of where you stood with him as you were when this started.

“You two have been pretty hot and heavy lately, huh?” you nearly jump out of your skin, as Mahito smiles knowingly at you, leaning against the counter with a shiteating grin.

“What are you—”

“Please, like we don’t know what goes on in the back during breaks?” he raises an eyebrow, as you bite your lip, “plus, never have I seen that gloomy guy smile, much less as much he does with you,”

“Really?” your eyes find him again, as he crouches and lines up blind boxes on one of the shelves — but you can’t help the nagging question circling in the back of your mind — why hasn’t he asked you out yet? The two of you have hooked up, in and out of the store, but he still hadn’t asked you on a date. Even in the last few weeks, the two of you hadn’t even spent any real time together, except for your visits to the store -- he hasn't even taken you into the back. For all you know, you’re one of many people he’s bedding. Even if he doesn’t seem the type.

“What? Trouble in paradise?” Mahito pulls you from your thoughts, head tilted and all too eager, “what’s wrong?”

“No, it’s—“ he cuts you off with a look, and you relent with a slight pout, “he just hasn’t asked me out yet, I’m just wondering what he’s thinking—“

“Well, I definitely don’t think he’s seeing anyone else,” he hums, “but he does tend to go straight home a lot when you’re not around. Maybe something is going on at home?” And then he’s pushing you towards him, “no time like the present to find out,”

“Mahito—“

“Choso! How about you and your favorite regular go for a quick walk and get us some drinks from the food court?” He grins, offering some money, “be a doll, won’t you?”

Choso sighs, “Fine,” and he brushes past you, taking the cash, before glancing back at you, “you coming?”

You glance between the two of them, before following him out of the store. You both walk in relative silence, slipping past customers, as you reach the food court. Choso orders, paying with the cash Mahito gave, as he passes you one of the drinks, “Choso, can I ask you something?”

His eyes slide to you, “Of course,” and god, his eyes stop your thoughts in their tracks — he’s so unfairly gorgeous, funny, sweet — you didn’t want to screw this up. You open your mouth to speak when you hear a voice.

“Big bro, that you?” A rush of pink hair and energy is wrapped around Choso all of a sudden, “I didn’t think you got off until later,” it’s a teen boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, his arm wrapped around Choso, and a varsity jacket on — this was Choso’s brother?

Choso cracked his rare smile, “I don’t get off until later, Yuji, but I came to grab a drink for Mahito,” and Yuji’s gaze slides to you.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there,” he smiles a thousand watt smile, “I’m Yuji Itadori, Choso’s brother,” and he’s glancing between you and his brother, before his mouth falls into an ‘o,’ “are you his girlfriend?”

“Yuji—“ Choso starts, a hint of a blush across his cheeks, as you stifle a laugh, “I thought you said you were going to study at home with Fushiguro.”

“I wanted to see you when your shift got off — I thought we could have dinner together,” Yuji pouts, and Choso cracks in an instant, his lips curling.

This boy had his brother wrapped around his finger.

“Ok, but don’t goof off. Make sure to study,” and Yuji nods.

“Nice to meet you,” and he leans in to whisper, “treat my brother good, ok?” And you flush, before nodding, as Choso raises an eyebrow, out of earshot.

“I will,”

“Cho, tell Mahito to fuck off for me,” and he’s off again, gone as fast as he came.

“Sorry about that,” Choso sighs, still a smile on his lips as he watches his brother in the distance, claiming one of the food court tables for himself and his friend, as he sits down next to a black haired boy, assumedly Fushiguro, “didn’t know Yuji would be here,”

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” and he bites his lip.

“It’s relatively new — we’re half brothers, but he just came back into my life. He doesn’t really have any other biological family. His grandfather just passed, and he’s staying with a teacher whose decided to foster him,” the two of you begin to walk back to the store, his gaze fixed downwards at the tacky mall carpeting, “he’s been staying with me for the last few weeks, while his foster father went on a vacation to Malaysia,”

And now the pieces were clicking into place, “And that’s why you’ve been going home a lot lately,” and his dark eyes find yours with a tilt of his head, “I mean, you just haven’t had a lot of time lately,” you can’t meet his gaze, “it must be a lot to have a teenager staying with you.”

“Yeah, he eats everything in the house, and he’s staying in my living room, which leaves little in the way of privacy,” and you can still feel the prickle of his gaze on you, “but I could use a break,” and you finally look and see a soft expression on his face, the same insecurity you had reflected in his gaze.

No time like the present, right?

“Well, should we maybe go on a date?” and his cheeks flush a pretty red, all the way to the tips of his ears, “we’ve done plenty of other things that a couple would do, like—”

And he’s shaking his head, “I know, I know!” he’s the one who can’t meet your eyes now, chewing his lip, “I’d like that — I get off my shift tonight at eight, I told Yuji we’d hang out, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind postponing—”

“We can always do it tomorrow, I don’t want to keep you from your brother,” and his lips curl into a smile, “he’s a good kid,”

“He is,” and his fingers find yours again, “I can tell Mahito that I’ll lock up tonight, and maybe after I do, we could—”

“Have another lesson?”

And eight o’clock rolls around far too slow, but Choso definitely isn’t moving slow when it’s only the two of you.

He’s pulling you into the back again, the door swinging shut behind the two of you, his fingers tight around your wrists as he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, forcing your lips to part with a gasp, his tongue flicking against yours. The smooth surface of his piercing grazes against your tongue.

And his fingers find the back of your neck, deepening the kiss impossibly, as his other hand slips down the curves of your body, pulling you against him, his clothed cock brushing against your aching cunt.

Fuck. You had almost forgotten how big he was.

And when you hear the zipper of his black jeans, you nearly melt against him, “Choso, please—”

“I have to get you ready first, love,” his fingers find their way to the front of your jeans and undo the button, tugging the fabric down to your ankles. Cool air raises goosebumps across your skin, the pads of his fingers press against the wet patch of your panties, and he’s groaning, “but maybe I don’t,”

“Fuck, so wet for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, as he’s walking you backwards, into one of the racks, his fingers press into the soft flesh of your thighs. And two fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, joining your jeans, pooling around your ankles, “nearly ready now, but I still have to loosen you up,” his fingers tease your outer lips, dripping with your release.

One of his finger’s slips in with practiced ease, making your hips jolt against his hand, your fingers curling around the metal bars of the rack in front of you. His finger was so much thicker and longer than yours, his digit toyed with your walls, teasing and stretching until he drew a soft groan from your lips. He was the only one who could make you this desperate, his lips pressed against your neck, the heat from his body has your mind reeling with pleasure.

“Mmm, Choso, more—" and he’s adding another finger inside your still all too tight entrance, making you whimper, as the intrusion is all too much after a few weeks of not having him inside you.

“So greedy,” he murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears, “you’re practically sucking me in, but it’s still not enough for you, is it?” his tongue drags against the outer shell of your ear, his piercing against your skin, before his mouth envelops your earlobe and sucks.

His fingers are fucking you open, your eyes screwed shut as the tips brush against that spot, heat flooding your body. And you don’t hear the shuffling of his other hand through a box, until you hear the sound of sucking, “Choso—“ and he’s pressing the sucker against your clit, your mouth falling open as pleasure rips up your spine, the sucking sensation with the lewd noises of your pussy being finger fucked is too much.

You cum all over his hand, your hand clamping over your mouth so no one hears your moans — and your legs quake as you come down from your high, as he eases his fingers from you, “so pretty,” he murmurs, and you can feel his dark, lidded eyes on your drenched cunt, watching your sticky release cling to his fingers, purple painted nails glinting in the low light.

And he’s leaning forward, kissing down your back, as he turns you around gently, so your back is pressed against the rack. You kick off your underwear and pants. You’re still panting, chest rising and falling as his fingers press to your chin, lifting it so you meet his gaze, as he sucks his fingers clean of your cum. Heat pools again, as his fingers undo the leather belt and he’s tugging his jeans and black boxers down to his knees, his erection springs out, slapping against his stomach.

Your mouth runs dry.

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you thought.

Ten inches? No, maybe eleven. How was that even possible? That shit would break you — but fuck — your cunt twitches — you kind of want it to break you.

“Like what you see, Princess?” you lick your lips in response, and in a trance, your fingers are reaching for him, curling around the base before you slowly start to pump him. You’re rewarded with a moan, a noise that goes straight to your cunt, as your fingers move faster, trying to find the right rhythm. Pre-cum leaks from the top, as you tease his tip, before stroking back up the length of it.

And he’s a beautiful mess, his pale features flushed a gorgeous red, as he presses his hand against his mouth so his moans wouldn’t resonate. And his pre-cum drips all over your fingers, slipping down your wrist even, as you lean forward to lick it off your own skin, while you meet his gaze.

His head lolls back, eyes screwed shut now, and your fingers drift to his sack, stroking and teasing while your lips find the tip, sucking lightly before your tongue drags over the length of his cock. And god, he’s going to blow his load now, if you keep doing that, from the way his hips rock against your touch.

His fingers weave into your hair, nails digging into your scalp, “Baby, ngh, it’s too good—fuck—” he’s so close, twitching in your mouth as you suck him from tip to base, tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue, “shit, I can’t—” and you suck hard on his cock, massaging his balls, and he’s gone — he’s pumping his cock into your mouth as his cum spurts down your throat, as you swallow it all too greedily. You pull away with a pop, a string of cum and saliva connecting you to his dick still, before you wipe it away.

He’s leaning against the rack, chest heaving as he watches you with lust blown out eyes, sweat sheen on his face, “Haa, baby, s’good f’me,” and somehow he’s still hard, as you rise to your feet, thighs pressed together, your eyes fixed on his cock, “you don’t have to—”

And he’s still so sweet — his eyebrows knit together as he’s examining you with concern, but you’re only shaking your head, as you press a sweet kiss to his lips, “I need you, Choso, please,” and he’s nodding, lips meeting yours in a heady kiss that steals your breath, and he’s made you brace yourself against the rack, fingers curled around the cool metal.

Your folds are exposed to him, slick and dripping, even wetter than before, “You liked sucking me off that much, love?” he murmurs, kissing your neck, before he’s dragging the tip of his cock against your needy cunt, “I’ll go slow,” he assures you, as you nod.

He’s sinking into you inch by inch — and not even halfway, you already feel like you’re ready to burst, “So big, Choso, I—” and he’s murmuring quiet reassurances, as he’s parting your folds, the pain drawing a gasp from your lips, as he finally bottoms out.

“S’good, baby, so tight,” he’s moaning, You’re taking deep breaths, pain ebbing with each second that passes. Choso pressing sweet kisses to your neck, his hands slipping under your shirt to tease your perked nipples, mixing pain with pleasure. Tears burn at your tear ducts, as you breathe shaky breaths, and finally pain ebbs away, and pleasure grows in its place.

“S’full, so big,” you pant, growing more needy by the second, he’s reaching places you’d only dreamt of — his leaking tip kissing your cervix, “move, p-please—ah!”

And he does as you say, pulling ever so slowly out before pushing back in, grunting as he does as your tight cunt adjusts to his size and length — bullying your insides in a way no toy could ever compare to. You swear you can feel every inch, every curve, every vein as he rocks into you.

“So pretty f’me,” he’s moaning, stifled by his bitten lip, as your walls only seem to pull him back deeper each time he pulls out, “so perfect, take me so well,” he’s murmuring, as he teases your tits between his thumb and forefinger, “pretty cunt made just for me, isn’t that right, Princess?”

“Yes, yes, Choso,” and his pace only grows faster, just as his groans grow louder.

“No one else can fuck you like this, make you feel this good, can’t wait to feel you cummin’ around me,” he’s panting, his fingers tweaking your nipples, squeezing, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously again and again, “feels s’good, so wet and warm for me—” his hand comes down on your ass now, making you gasp, your cunt squeezing around him.

Drool slips from your mouth, as you get closer and closer to cumming — the telltale flutter of your walls, “Choso, I’m coming, I can’t—”

“Cum for me, let me fill you up,” and his fingers reach around to press a vibrator to your clit, and you’re cumming, falling apart on his cock, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. The squelch of your cunt and the way you squeeze him has him falling apart, spurting and painting your walls.

The two of you slump forward, your legs nearly buckling, as you cling to the rack, before he’s easing both of you back onto a bench in the stock room. Your quiet pants fill the silence of the room, as he eases himself out, groaning as you both watch your mixed releases leak out of your cunt.

“I don’t think I can walk after that,” and he chuckles in your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you,” and you laugh, his favorite noise in the world, as you slowly turn, making him groan as your soaked pussy grinds against his dick.

“So then you can lift me up when I drop it?” your lips are curled in that same smile that had him hypnotized from the moment he saw it, and he can only reply with a bruising kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, as you sunk yourself onto his dick again.

God. He needed to buy you tickets to Warped Tour.

~~~

The next time you show up to Hot Topic, you weren’t showing up to buy any merchandise.

“Hey emo boy!” you call out, making Choso turn with a smile on his lips — the one especially reserved for you.

“Hi baby,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, his arm around your waist, “I’m almost done. I just have to punch out.”

You lean in, words whispered against his ear, “And then you’re gonna come fuck me?”

You were picking up your boyfriend.

He smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist, before kissing you again, “You know I will.”

note: i couldn't find who made this incredible art that i used after searching and searching, so if anyone knows, please let me know so i can credit them above in the description. this fic has been a long time coming since that silly blurb i wrote after watching one too many thirst edits of choso. edit: i found the artist: its @/SS_utr3n on twt!!!

tag list: @uroldall, @jlovesfrogs, @existential54321, @staryukis, @samistars, @chosoilysm, @astroholic, @emii4evr, @rose1238, @butterflieskeepcominback, @divinely-yourz, @fishii28, @seresukuin, @misalsmistake, @xkaidaxxxx, @cappric, @famebydefinition, @theatergeek, @sousblogga, @averagelonelypotato, @timesnewreader, @chrvstxl, @darylthekidd, @merelydaydreaming, @notafan77, @naughtygobbo, @smiley-babe, @butterflieskeepcominback, @entirelytoooobsessed, @acenanxious

#choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso smut #choso kamo fanfiction #choso x you #choso kamo smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #choso kamo fanfic #choso x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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cottoncandy-cult · 2 days

Text

red, blood

𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙤 𝙠𝙖𝙢𝙤 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - bitten by a stranger, you notice an extreme aversion to food - instead craving one substance above all. moments from taking a life, choso brings you back to normalcy; with only one issue. it's choso's blood that you crave.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - vampire!choso, (new)vampire!reader, blood drinking, mentions of death, smut, biting, blood, blood again because there's so much blood described in this fic, scratching, strangers to ?, cowgirl, sex in a forest, creampies, cunnilingus, attacking ppl for food lol, instruction.

10.8k words

You'd heard rumors of the old house on the hill. Some had stated the lot had been vacant for years, others that it had been haunted - though one questionable rumor in particular had sparked interest more than others. When Nobara would voice her theories of vampires hiding within the four tall walls, interesting and ancient beings derived from demons, your blood would run cold and skin prickle with exhilaration. She'd bring her stories forward as if truth; tales of cursed creatures surviving on the blood of humans, told with enough vivid detail to convince you Nobara had experienced said adventures herself. Though, the excitement had fizzled out when bringing the question to your mother, her excuse for the house on the hill much less interesting. Apartments.

As adulthood had taken over, a mundane life following your mother's footsteps, you'd rarely questioned what had been so intriguing to you as a child. Maybe when driving back into town and passing by the outskirts, the house on the hill would catch your eye, but you'd never lingered upon it for more than a few moments. Caught in thought or attention diverted to the road, what had once been a mystery filled with child-like wonder had now died out. Your imagination had simply matured, like the rest of your dreams.

As the chief of police's daughter, it had felt natural for you to move into the same profession. Your mother raising you as a single parent, tired days turned longer after she'd been called in only minutes after returning home, promises of vacations that had instead consisted of watching her work at the station, a career within the place you'd spent half of your life within had always been how you'd pictured your life progressing.

Of course, it had been that your first solo dispatch as a qualified officer had been to the woodland outside of town, connecting to the same dingy road the old house had bordered. A concerned resident had made several calls regarding screams within the woods, and you were to take a statement.

Back slouching against the drivers seat, you took a breath. There had been a racing in your chest, nervousness for your first case to begin; your first public interaction. Perhaps somewhere within the anxiousness had been excitement, though looking through the windshield to the fog ridden forest around you, you weren't so sure. Trees stood tall, dirt path winding until reaching the base of the grassy hill. When peering upward, you could make out a faint outline of the house, a reminder to childhood conversations between yourself and friends. If only life could've remained so full of thrill.

Once stepping from the ranger, you brushed creases from your uniform and, with a sigh, slammed the door closed. The residence you'd been called to hadn't looked well-kept, ivy taking over decaying brickwork, windows dirty. When approaching, you'd almost tripped over an exposed root from thick bush, standing as yet another reminder this home hadn't been in good shape. Before raising fist to knock, you straightened the badge on your belt, fingers grazing over the new metallic front. As your fist hit the door it had rattled, and you'd been left to notice rot within the bowed wood, oak splintering and stained. The longer you'd stood, the less driven you'd been to stay, an uneasy feeling settling in your gut.

Though, you hadn't time to bail as the door creaked open, revealing an older gentleman hunched forward, his weight distributed between both handle and cane. His narrow eyes met yours as he questioned your presence, an apprehensive smile spreading over your lips for good measure. "Are you Fujita-san? We received a call from you regarding noise in the neighborhood." The term 'neighborhood' had been used loosely as you stood at the only house within a half-mile radius. "Come in." The cane caused a harsh bang on the hardwood floor as he shuffled backward, stopping sooner than you'd anticipated to leave a gap you'd been barely sure you would fit through. Such a confident smile had faltered when slipping between door and frame as your arm brushed over the cotton sleeve of his bath-robe.

When navigating past him, looking for a clear route to lounge or seating area, regret had pooled in your body. The house was suspiciously sparse with no light sources and evidently had not been lived within. It still begged the question of why you'd been called here, and why such an old and practically immobile man had been here to answer the door.

You couldn't turn to question him, words taken before formulated as cold fingers wrapped harshly over your hand, arm brought upward and a sharpness in your wrist. Yelling out in pain, you attempted to pull your limb back to safety, head snapping to lock with red eyes. Between his lips and your flesh crimson blood had flowed, staining blue uniformed shirt. No matter the resistance from yourself, the strength of his grasp wouldn't falter. Eventually, after abrasive kicks and punches, you'd knocked into his knees with a harsh stamp, frail bones cracking as he stumbled from your being. With a tug of your forearm, you broke free, quick footsteps through the door to sprint toward your car. As if graced by God, you started the engine and pulled away.

The drive home had felt dreamlike. Sweat poured from every inch of skin, hands trembling and breaths heavy. The steering wheel had felt slippery, yet you wouldn't look down, overtaken by fear. When navigating through the surrounding country roads and eventually coming back into the city, you'd reassured yourself the liquid coating your hands had been only sweat caused by adrenaline, nothing more. Though when pulling into your drive, mind hazy as the world around you had lagged behind, you dropped your gaze, a panicked gasp when met with the crimson thickness of blood, a thick and bubbling coating of both the car's interior and your uniform.

You woke in bed, bolting upright. Light shone through white curtains, thin cotton barely acting as a barrier from the rays of sun beyond the windows. A sheen of sweat had coated the gap between your skin and the uniform you'd still worn, the start of a fever prickling over your body only moments after waking. Your head ached, a pounding against skull that had at first felt reminiscent of a hangover, though as seconds passed, it had intensified beyond that.

A mere text to explain your absence at work had been all you'd mustered as you crouched over the toilet bowl, intense flurry of vomiting as you feigned the gap between conscious and unconsciousness. The memory of your evening before had felt hazy, only flashes of the attack within the house, with more questions raised than answered. How had you gotten home? A sudden flash of the sickening sight when parking up had flickered into mind, another retch into porcelain.

Looking to the wrist that had bled so freely before, a bandage had been wrapped around damp skin. You peeled back the woven white to analyse the wound below - only to find undamaged flesh. A distant buzz in your head, visions of red, crimson, thick liquid originating from multiple branches, pooling into one abundant ocean. The inside of the cloth had been tainted by two distinct dots of red, yet no marks had remained over your wrist.

Though, your internal interrogation to past self had ceased as another wave of nausea hit, this time the sickness dispelled from your body closely resembling the consistency and colour of the blood coursing through your veins. Weakness had overcome you next, collapsing to rest upon cold bathroom tile. Through a shroud of darkness you'd attempted to call for help, yet all energy had left you.

The headache had lifted. A lack of fatigue, no sweat, no unbearable fever. Had this been a dream? Pushing yourself from the floor, you stood hunch over sink, peering to the mirror hanging at head height. Hair a bird's nest, bags set deep beneath eyes, you'd felt an instinct to shower. A low growling from your stomach while rubbing soap over unclean skin had signaled the second action on your itinerary.

Cereal poured into the bowl, drowning in milk. Something usually enjoyed before work had excited you, eagerly lifting metal spoon to lips and shoveling the first sugary mouthful between your teeth. Only, crunching down on a breakfast favourite had felt agonizing, the usual sweet taste mingling with tones of chocolate now tasting foul, nausea rushing over your body in a cold sweat as you rushed to the kitchen sink.

Eggs had been the next trial. Fried with salt and pepper dotted across white and yolk, a slice of bread to house a usually adequate food. It had taken only one bite to reach the same effect, heaving into the metal sink.

Toast, a staple for those suffering from a stomach bug. Only a swipe of butter to prevent the dry grain sticking to the roof of mouth, but not too much as to upset a stomach. Though, perhaps there had been a little too much dairy as you'd vomited once more. An attempt to cleanse your throat with a cool glass of water had resulted in the vacation of your stomach yet again, abs aching as you retched.

Tears had welled within your eyes as they glossed over bowls of food before you, none of which you'd been able to digest. Another shower, another set of clothes, an hour spent pacing around the kitchen in thought. There had been one simple comfort food you'd yet to try: soup. When ill, that's what most people have, right?

Emptiness had resided within your stomach as you turned the ignition, hands placed over the wheel - with another confusing installment as you peered down to the interior. Instead of dried blood coating leather, there had been nothing to serve as evidence for the imagery belonging to the evening before.

Pulling away, foot on the gas, you instead tried to focus on what you'd be purchasing at the store. A logical place to start would be canned soup, painkillers, and electrolytes. The fever you'd slowly overcame had taken much from you, so when parking in the lot beside local grocery store you'd reminded yourself to take it easy, to be quick.

Weak legs carried you to the automatic door, absentmindedly taking a basket to carry on your journey. Though as you'd began to shop, shuffling forward you'd been distracted by a bad scent hanging in the air, a metallic iron piercing through nostrils. Squinting your eyes, you'd attempted to simply concentrate on purchasing the essentials you'd needed, glancing to the first isle. Cracked and aged tile had sat beneath your shoes, bright lights illuminating shelves filled with stock, yet you'd found yourself unable to concentrate on any of the mundane surroundings.

Basket between weak fingers, you felt uneasy, overwhelming smells, sounds and sensations over skin suddenly heightening, ambient chatter merging into a loud and blaring ringing. With the overstimulating environment your lungs felt squeezed of air, an inability to regulate breaths. Hyperventilating, the metal handle left your grasp, a shift in your insides as the scent that had felt so disgusting only moments prior had now intoxicated you, an all encompassing and primal need to taste - but what exactly, you hadn't been sure. Only when your vision had raised from newly empty hands had you found the source of need.

A younger woman, earbuds within her ears and a furrowed brow as she glanced among the various vegetables shelved before her. As if hunting prey, your line of tight had felt tunneled, heightened senses latched onto her movements. The music blaring into her ears had been tinny and distorted, yet you felt able to make out lyrics even if stood meters away.

Mouth running dry, a step forward. You ran tongue across teeth, a starling difference within your gums; an ache, canines feeling unfamiliar between lips. Sharp. Within you had been an urge to bite, chew and rip apart thick mounds of flesh, to watch blood pour into the fresh wound, to drink the sweet ambrosia pooling over raw skin. An animal carnage set behind your eyes, the ringing had intensified, throat closing up with shallow breaths, head floating in a haze.

A slow step forward, consumed by untamed yearning for blood, you'd attempted to fight the fearful feeling clouding your mind, a last attempt at humanity as you'd dreaded the action you weren't sure you could take. Surroundings fading away, you'd committed, another step toward her.

You bumped into a solid mound - a figure standing larger than you; broader. With the lock on your target removed, the predatory hypnosis had lifted, tears blinked back upon registering the measures you'd been about to take, the intention you'd had. If you hadn't been pulled from the fog, the unaware innocent would've fell victim to your teeth sinking into her skin, throat ripping from body.

"Focus on me." A deep reverberance had echoed through your core, a sudden coolness brushing over heated cheeks as he'd laid open palms to burning skin. Through blurred vision, you met eyes to the source of reprieve, deep purple orbs staring back under a furrowed brow, concentration written over his expression as he'd centered himself only on you. There had been a frown set across his lips, beneath a thick black like etched into the middle of his face, curving to the bridge of his nose. Black hair had fallen from his head and framed his profile the upper section partitioned into two loose buns.

"Good girl, that's it. Calm down." The softly spoken voice had ricocheted through your bones once more, a comfort only God himself could have given you, with a desire to obey. Staring into your soul had been a person you hadn't recognized, yet you'd felt your heart had known. Staggered breaths had turned consistent as you'd done as he'd asked, focusing purely on him, gaze locked onto the thick line across his skin.

"We're going to leave." He instructed you, sights dropping to the lips that had formed the words, a small nod as you put your trust into the stranger. "When we start walking, keep your eyes to the floor, and your mouth closed." His hands dropped from your cheeks, leaving skin bare. Only with his touch turning absent had you realized he'd been supporting your head, unexpectedly feeling much heavier without the large embrace. "Look down, remember?" His reminder had caused you to obey, dropping your head to face the tile, bright overhead lights reflected on the sheen.

Only when stepping foot outside had you felt yourself relax, fresh air alleviating the hyper stimulation, aiding the unbearable hunger. The sound of birdsong as day turned into evening had soothed overwhelmed ears, muscles relaxing. Once beside an unknown car, the male had halted, gesturing you to climb within the passenger seat. You'd shot him a look of confusion, yet he'd only repeated the action. Uneasiness set in as he opened the door, harsher gaze causing a churning in your stomach.

You slipped in and he closed the door beside you, walking to the driver's side and slumping into leather. Before questioning you, he let out a sigh, eyes closing and head hitting the headrest behind him. Had you been within a different situation, you'd have admired his profile more, a sharp jawline and pretty hair, tired eyes in need of comfort.

"Who are you?" He finally broke the silence by asking the first question he'd had when walking by your demonic form, eyes blood red and teeth poking from lip. It had been more than lucky he'd been there to stop you from your urges, and he didn't appreciate the odds. If he hadn't have been in the same store, a massacre would've occurred, an unstoppable force of cursed-being quenching an insatiable thirst. He'd known the loss of control too well, and reaped the consequences.

Within the car you'd felt at ease from the outside world, from what had felt too fast and jaded to bare. Your lips formed your name, line of sight finally lifting from the dash to console his gaze. Concern had been etched across his features, merging with stress and sympathy.

"What just happened?" You'd asked, and he'd turned head to glance through the windshield. He scanned over the parking lot, half empty, trees bordering concrete. How couldn't you know about what you were? Had you played dumb to manipulate his support?

"What do you already know?" His counter-question had confused you, and he'd watched through the corner of his eye as your face contorted to that of uncertainty. "I'll ask this, then - were you bitten?" The words spoken had your eyes widening, lips parting in surprise. You hadn't connected the bite you'd endured to the sudden sickness, but it hadn't been possible he'd passed a disease to you, surely?

Events from those days before had raced through your mind; red eyes, a stinging over your wrist. With a reluctant nod from yourself, fingers ghosting over where the bite had been, you'd added your rejection of this theory. "There's no marks- I don't think he bit me hard enough to pass anything to me."

He chose to ignore your thought process, a sense of hopelessness to your condition. "When were you bitten?" A squirrel had ran across the cement, stopping over a vacant parking space to pick a fallen pine-cone. You watched as your mind raced, a realization that today had felt much further than that evening than you'd thought, how long were you out? What day had it been, now? "I don't know-" Stuttered words, you searched for the date within your mind, an image of the paperwork, the anxiety of the first solo call-out. "The first. The first of March."

His expression dropped, jaw opening as he glanced to the digital clock on the dash, red letters stating date, and time. "At what time?" His tone was quieter as panic set in, fear and sorrow harboring concern. "I had a call-" Closing your eyes, you pictured the ranger's radio, time on the clock as you'd stepped from the car to forest floor. "I think around three."

"And you haven't fed?" Disbelief had decorated him; or had it been horror? "I tried to eat earlier, but I couldn't stomach it." The explanation had him shaking his head, lips pursing and eyes rolling. His hand balled into a fist over his thigh, fabric scrunching to the center as he'd had enough of your logical excuses. "I'm not talking about that -" He let out a breath, choosing to spit out the fact he'd tried to keep from you. From now, your life would change forever. "Blood. You need blood." The statement had made little sense to you, though. A disapproving scowl shot his way had been ignored through closed lids, rapid thoughts as he'd searched for a fix to the situation.

"A transfusion? I'm okay, I just had a fever." The brushing off of his concerns had angered him, how had humans been so straight-thinking? A species that he'd lived among, yet fought to understand. "I probably need a vaccination, though. Maybe he did pass something on..." Your voice trailed off in worry. The rational explanations from you had caused uneasiness, another deep exhale as he placed to fingers to temple.

"Listen," He'd began, pulling your attention to painted nails at the end of pale fingers. "You need to drink, or your body will reject the transformation." Opening his eyes, his hand turned the key, engine humming. "Where do you live?" "Oh, I can drive, my car's-" Beginning to point toward your own vehicle your words had died off, the dead-pan stare he'd given you instead pushing you to whisper the address with agitated tone.

Alarm bells you were sure should have rung had remained silent as he drove you home, a short journey filled with stillness. One hand over the gearshift, other on the wheel, you'd watched in admiration. The presence from the stranger had been comforting, and when walking to your door, you'd realized how little you wanted him to leave.

Only when inviting him inside had you asked for his name, a startled drop of expression as a memory had been sparked from childhood.

"I heard the Kamo family lives there." Nobara leaned forward, marshmallow browning in the fire as she smiled widely, a gap in the top row of teeth. Megumi rolled his eyes, a sigh from parted lips. He'd had one arm crossed over the other, wearing a frown. "It's just folklore." His attempts to quieten his friend had been redundant as the small girl had a story to tell. When Nobara had her mind set on something, no one could stop her.

"The Kamos are vampires, my sister told me herself!" The smile turned to scowl as she brought the marshmallow to her face, black charring coating the outside. She'd burned another one. "What does your sister know about vampires? She's a botanist, not a monster hunter." His pessimism had been ignored as she'd instead turned to you, heartache from the burned sweet forgotten as she grinned to your curious expression.

"My sister said they've lived in the house on the hill for decades, and they feed off the people in the neighboring houses. That old guy died, didn't you hear? What was his name..." She trailed off in thought, a disapproving sigh from Megumi as he'd added to the story he hadn't wished to be a part of. "Fujita-san?" The correction had excited Nobara, an enthusiastic nod as she'd taken the queue to continue. "Yeah, they found him with puncture wounds, but they couldn't do the autopsy because he disappeared from the morgue! My sister said she saw Kamo Choso by the funeral home that night - I think the Kamos took him!"

She'd watched your guise closely, in need of validation for her story-telling skills, and maturity. You'd glanced to Megumi, his placid countenance revealing little about how he'd felt. "I'm sure she was just visiting someone, Nobara."

Now, Choso had stood before you, speaking of drinking, of blood and bites, of information attributed to the folklore an old friend had spoken of. Vampires were beings written into fairy-tales and horror films - things that surely couldn't apply to reality. Had he been insane? You'd watched in silence as he brought his wrist to lips, a crunch and pop of skin pierced, pulling back the wounded appendage to reveal bloodied lips. Crimson coated skin, bubbling at the incision marks.

"What the fuck-" You'd began to chastise his actions, yet when transferring gaze to gloss over face, you'd been left speechless. His eyes no longer purple, orbs covered in a pitch black, small veins of purple and blue branching from lid to brow and bags beneath. Between his lips, teeth that had resembled more of animal than human.

The metallic smell had returned. The pulsing within chest and body as your eyes had been drawn away from his and toward the bleeding limb before you, now inches from face. Hand skimming his skin, gaze locked to the dark red, you'd felt transfixed. Hunger and desire had brought you to the point of leaning toward his offering, lips finally locking over the wound, tongue sliding over crimson.

The thick drink hit your throat, coating you as if honey, soothing a burn you hadn't recognized before now. A hum of pleasure muted to his skin as you took more, a warmth in your stomach, a supple pleasantry you could only imagine had mirrored that of child drinking from mother. Warm, soft, nurturing.

Time had stilled, but a gentle push of your shoulder had indicated you'd taken enough, breaking you from the trance. Fingers reaching upward, you ghosted the liquid painted over lips and chin, grazing across teeth that hadn't felt much like your own. Choso let out a breath, watching your bewilderment with tired eyes and sincere expression. He'd felt guilt from the twisting in his stomach as you'd breathed heavy sighs of relief, ashamed of the change in his perception of you now you'd taken from him. With his blood over your lips, you'd looked pretty.

"From now, you'll need blood to survive." He began, looking from you to instead inspect your home, glossing over framed photos in the hall, landing over a small succulent on a shelf. Through one doorway had been a lounge that he'd found himself following you into, taking a seat on the couch. Slumping back, he continued. "I'm not here to tell you what to do, but for the survival of our kind, I recommend drinking from animals. There's plenty of deer in the woodland to pick from, but it should be fresh."

"Is that what you do?" He'd shifted on the cushions, eyes darting around the new surroundings to avoid your own questioning gaze. "No. My father sources blood from the local hospital. Animal blood will hinder some ability - though in your case it's a better option."

Although his flesh had healed, there had been a tightness within your chest when scanning over remnants of dried blood decorating his wrist - bringing back the intimate moment you'd shared. "Can I... have more?" A sultry request leaving lips before you'd assessed your own questioning, though he'd chalked it down to hunger rather than the chance you had also felt a throb between legs when enjoying his blood. It had been down to the curse that you'd felt this way, after-all.

Choso's eyes felt unreadable, small movements from the tightening of his jaw as he'd hesitated. It hadn't been a good idea to encourage this behavior, yet he'd found his fingers hooking the neck of his shirt, exposing the base of neck curving to shoulder. An invitation for you to drink, a hypnotic pull toward the source of desire. He waited, pale skin exposed, for your teeth to graze him. When your eyes had landed upon the paths of veins beneath epidermis, blue lines both thick and thin, you'd leaned forward.

Mouth watering, canines elongated and vision tunneling, there had been a magnetism toward the thick flesh and muscle that you'd felt yourself succumb to. He shuddered under the feeling of your teeth piercing sensitive skin, internalizing a moan of pleasure when he felt his blood flow from his vein to your lips. You gulped back the nectar that flowed through him and only him.

Choso scaled a hand upward, fingers wrapping around the nape your neck and pressing you further into the crevice you'd resided within. Initially, he'd intended to pull you away, yet when a quiet hum of satisfaction had left your lips to vibrate against his skin, there had been a twang within his core; an ache that he couldn't ignore. So, instead of pushing you away, he'd forced you closer, allowing eyes to flutter shut. The near inaudible sounds of suckling had been music to his ears, tightness within his jeans when he'd allowed himself to feel a sensation he'd long since forgotten. Pleasure.

Blood dribbled from the corner of your mouth when you'd pulled back, watching his expression intently to gauge his emotional state. Should you thank him?

Your lips parted, his gaze locked over the small dips and creases that had been filled with his blood, coating thickly and cascading over the curve to meet chin. Choso ghosted a thumb over the mess, but chose not to swipe it away. Though, it had been too late to stop the pull you'd felt, a spark of lust ignited to the man you hadn't known but now craved.

Following your heart you'd straddled him, eyes locked when thigh caged thigh. His hands laid to rest over your hips, and as you'd set yourself still, your attention had been brought to the hardness of his crotch. Sighing at the contact, you'd been aware of the arousal pooling between legs, teeth grazing lip. Choso pulled your face to his, a moment taken to stall before you'd finally closed the gap.

When tasting his own blood so poignantly over your lips, mingling with tongue, his hips had bucked upward. He groaned at the sweet metallic nectar he'd known well, a cup over cheek, nails dragging over subtle flesh. Would he taste you, too?

"Kamo..." Whispered between brisker kisses, you felt his lips move to linger over your cheek, trailing to your neck. The flat of his tongue rolled over skin, a shiver prickling down your spine before his mouth hovered to lobe. "Can I?" His voice sounded deeper, a resonance of lust and husk of desire woven into the softness. A nod from you is all he'd needed to proceed, eyes overshadowed by darkness, glossy through arousal.

A sharpness met your flesh, dragging slowly as if to tease, lips grazing the area as his mouth widened. Finally, he punctured skin, tasting your essence for the first time. Groaning, you rolled hips against his, head tilting to land over his shoulder as you shared yourself with him. Warm, lightheaded, you circled against him, a regular friction over the brick in his trousers. "Feels good." Praises whispered to his ear had Choso yearning for more.

Only for a moment he'd pulled back, pushing a hand to unbutton jeans and offer relief to the ache, finally free from cloth cage. Your fingers had looped through your own hem, pulling trousers to sit at mid-thigh before rolling them over knee. When exposed, Choso's eyes dropped, hands grasping the fat of your hips to guide you down onto his cock.

The stretch had been euphoric, jaw widening to allow mews to echo against his shoulder. Sinking down, you squeezed your eyes closed, arching of back only pushing you closer. "More..." His voice was strained as he fought to ground himself, fearing the chance of losing his mind when he'd felt your intoxicating cunt take him in. It had been a long while since he'd allowed a woman to take him, since he'd felt the tightness of fleshy walls embrace him, milking his cock with each jut of hips. Once you'd found a rhythm with shallow breaths complimented by whines, Choso had reattached his lips to your neck, a vibration of chest emitting to yours to appreciate the skin he'd felt drunk against.

Lapping, swallowing and humming had been the only noses dancing within your ears, an inability to remove your focus from the body beneath you and the flow of your soul intertwining with his. Choso's hand and the back of your head had met once again, guiding you toward the base of his neck. There had no longer been the bloody wound to signify your last bite, but he enticed you to make another, tongue grazing flesh.

Each mouth occupied by the other's neck, a transfusion of blood through one another's vein. Choso felt himself twitch within your walls, abdomen sucking inward and a grunt as the coil had snapped, nails cutting into you with force as he drove your movements with white ropes shooting inside of you. Ecstasy had washed over the pair of you as he milked himself with your cunt, the taste of your iron oozing into his mouth.

Once past the haze of his high, he pulled from your neck, sinking back into the sofa cushions behind. Blood stained his shirt, drips from lips to chin as the primal darkness from his eyes faded. "Your eyes..." Voice raw, rasp tickling throat, you'd attempted to voice your confusion at the changes in appearance when feeding. The blackness had shrouded the entirety of the eye, unlike Fujita's that had been a vibrant shade of red.

"When you feed, your face reflects the parasite inside. Eyes will change, teeth grow." His explanation had been voiced as he traced circles over the scratches he'd caused. "I don't understand what's happening to me -" Only beginning to push further, you were stopped by drowsiness. The purple orbs had watched as you slumped forward to his shoulder, arms holding you in place. "The transition is ending." Choso's words had been the last thing heard as darkness consumed your soul.

The haze lifted, slowly.

Sitting upright, your confused gaze straightened out when taking in your surroundings. You'd laid on the couch, blanket over body as you'd looked around the room. There had been little sign of Choso now, but your hoarse voice called for him nonetheless, unsurprised to hear no response. When pushing yourself from firm cushion, you'd questioned the likelihood that last night had been another fever dream - though a blue piece of paper ripped from notebook and black ball-pen beside it had indicated that the evening prior had in fact been reality. Two words scribbled over the blank page had made your stomach flip.

good luck.

Wandering through your home, you'd debated what to do. Choso had left no point of contact, and had offered little advice in terms of the newly acquired blood-lust. Only one other person had sprung to mind, one childhood friend who had shared a passion for supernatural stories of vampires hiding within the shadows; Nobara. Though, the chances of her holding valuable information had been slim, and even then, the likelihood of her laughing off your questions had been more than likely, she had been your only lead.

Thumb hovering over call, you'd contemplated if this had in fact been a good idea. But, the more you questioned it, the less you'd felt you'd had to lose - the chance of her knowing something had outweighed the possibility of being made fun of, with much more to gain from the former.

"Hello?" Her voice echoed through receiver, tone lightly sprinkled in annoyance. "Nobara." Her name fell from your lips as you brought a nail to lips, biting over it before continuing. "I wanted to ask something, about when we were kids."

She laughed in irritation. "You disappear off the face of the earth for a week and call me to ask about our childhood?"

"I'm sorry, I've been sick with a fever," You thought, closing eyes to focus, to think of a better excuse than I got turned into a vampire. "and I spent the time in bed, remembering something." "I was worried about you, asshole." Her tone was lighter now, though you could picture the scowl you were sure had been etched across her face. "What did you wanna ask?" "The house, on the hill. When we were kids, you mentioned the Kamos living there." Trying to remain ambiguous, you steered clear of word vampire, weary not to plant a seed of concern within her mind. As a person within your late twenties, supernatural creatures hadn't felt appropriate to bring up without reason.

"What are you saying, you didn't run into one, did you?" The bitchiness she'd previously displayed had suddenly switched to alertness, a red flag sprung within her mind. "Listen, stay away from Kamos. They're..." She let out a wry breath. "They're not good people." "Oh, I just- I was just wondering about them, I've never seen one before." You'd hoped she would believe the lie, though her response had only raised more questions.

"Okay. Was that all?" There was movement on the other side of the line, followed by another woman's voice. "Yeah." It felt no use to keep pushing. "But, why aren't they good people?" "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me, okay? Just- stay away from them." She'd hushed the other person, trying to listen for your response. "Okay. Send my regards to Maki."

With no luck from the phone call, you left isolated within your own thoughts. Two days had passed with concerned calls from your mother and colleagues, flowers sent to your door that had been thrown out due to an unbearable scent. There would be a time in which you'd have to return to work, yet you couldn't trust yourself not to attack other beings. Would this be life from now on?

It had all started with that bite, with the house bordering the forest. Something had happened to you within that moment, that you'd been left unable to understand. Had the teeth that pierced your skin been laced with poison?

A pounding over door had caused you to grown in annoyance, pushing yourself from the self-loathing thoughts and the safety of bed to shuffle toward the hall. The knocking had continued until you'd opened it, eyes squinting as sun had cast light into what had been the dark home you'd hidden within. Megumi had stood within the day, and without a greeting had shoved past you to enter, hand already in contact with the door above your head to slam it closed behind him.

"Well, that was rude." Sarcastic comment from your lips, a roll of eyes, you looked to your friend in worry. Though, this fear hadn't been due to his abrupt arrival, but to the blood-lust imbued with your soul.

"Don't tell Kugisaki." His statement had caught you off guard, opening your mouth to question him, only to be cut off. "They're hunters. The second she finds out, you're dead."

Perplexed expression, questions swirled through your mind. "How?" Searching for an answer within his eyes, you were offered little in return. Megumi had always done well to mask his true emotion, though even with his efforts, you'd been able to read waves of genuine distress.

"Yuji." A name you'd known well, the pink haired ball of energy the three of you would hang around with often as children, though when reaching high-school, tragedy had struck and his life had been taken. His funeral had been the first you'd attended, his death the first wave grief you'd endured.

"What does Yuji have to do with this, Megumi?"

He looked to the floor, exhaling slowly.

"Megumi." Tone harsher, you pushed him further.

"He's Kamo's half brother. They live together."

He prepared himself for the barrage of hate, understanding your anger stemming from a place of hurt, the trauma of losing a close friend while still so young. You hadn't just mourned over the past, but the future he'd lost. Hours spent wondering if you'd have just paid more attention, or offered to walk him home that evening, he wouldn't have been killed.

"Yuji's- He's dead, Megumi." His face was placid, eyes on the floor. "Tell me, he's dead, isn't he?" Instead of reassurance, your friend had offered an alternative. "He was never alive." His hands grasped one another, nail picking at skin. "Why are you being to cryptic?" Tears welled in your eyes as you pictured Yuji growing without you, without his friends. He'd been around all these years? "He was cursed by his family, same as Choso. They're different to us, though." "Us?"

Megumi sighed, eyes closing. "You're not the first Fujita has bitten." Although surprised, you'd felt some relief in the fact you'd be able to control yourself around Megumi, the realization that the insatiable blood-lust had not been triggered within his presence. It had been obvious he wasn't human.

"How does this tie into you knowing I'm a vampire?" The final piece of the puzzle. He sighed at your label, flinching at the childish nature, yet understanding the lack of pragmatic options within this reality. "It's called a cursed-being." Corrected, your cheeks burned in embarrassment. "Kamo came home smelling like you. Did he hurt you?" You felt his gaze scanning over you, though quickly shook your head to dismiss the accusation.

"But, Choso hasn't fed from the source in decades, why now?" You hadn't seen Megumi so sporadic before, usually mellowed and calm, now on edge. Panicked, and scarred.

"Choso didn't hurt me. He let me feed from him." You danced around the terminology. Had this been the correct phrasing for something so foreign to you? "No, he smelled of your blood, he must've taken some." Megumi pushed, leaving you burning up with the memories of his skin on yours, his blood trailing over your lips, the euphoria of sharing yourself with him. "Oh, don't tell me-" He pulled a face, scoffing. "That's disgusting."

Walking through woodland, twigs broke beneath your feet. It hadn't taken long for you to find the house once more, the residence haunting your mind, to forever be ingrained within your memory, your dreams. If what Megumi had spoken had been true, Fujita would still be lurking around the surrounding wood, a being to fear. The dangers had scared you, but the need for answers had conquered fear, reasoning with yourself that you'd be dead if not able to find the truth before long.

Bashing shoulder to door, the bowing wood splintered, giving way after a second hit. You'd placed a foot over the barrier with reluctance, unwanted memories flooding brain when passing through the doorway. You scanned the interior, glancing over chipped flooring and decaying walls. It had been clear the lot had been vacant, something that should have been a bigger cause for alarm when you'd first approached the house. If it had been possible to turn back time and undo the need to please your mother, you'd prevent yourself from taking the case, from coming here alone. Things could've turned out differently had you valued your safety over appraisal.

An uncomfortable emptiness had reminded you of the fact you hadn't fed since Choso had offered himself to you, and unless you'd eaten soon, you would likely die. Though, you hadn't been so sure you weren't dead already. A wooden bookshelf had been coming away from peeling walls, scent of decay ripe on your nose when growing closer. Frowning, you examined the books, finger trailing over thick coatings of dust before stopping over one decorated in a thick red cover, golden swirls ornately decorating both edges and spine. Blowing dirt away, you opened the thin, discolored pages, stopping when glossing over a drawing. Black eyes, surrounded by veins. Beneath, the text: pure-blooded eyes.

Ornately drawn with high attention to detail, the image had closely resembled the eyes of Choso, initiating a tingle across skin upon remembering the deepness searching within your own. Chin dripping in blood, gaze lustful, an evil aura that had enticed you. They'd been vastly different to the irises you'd met in your encounter with Fujita, and held more of a predatory semblance. You scanned the writing further, searching for an explanation to the differing characteristic.

'Descendants of the original cursed-being are named pure-bloods. A scarce species treated as royalty among most of the cursed, as pure-bloods hold the power of birth among curses.

If bitten by a feral curse, the victim will fall to a fever, reverting to a feral state unless pure-blood is consumed by the sixth day of infection.

Pure-blood is a great rarity among cursed-beings; worshiped. Those carrying the pure-blood will as such refrain from blood sharing, a topic deemed taboo among cursed-beings. Cursed blood is to be exchanged during mating ceremonies, an intimacy between betrothed. If un-mated, a cursed-being shall not allow another to drink from them.

As a result of this, 99.4% of infection cases end in feral curses.'

The book closed by shaking hand. A breath you hadn't realized you'd held had finally been dispelled, the aching fullness of your chest withering. If the writing had held truth, Choso's action of blood sharing had been a large gesture, or display of desire. The phrase 'pure-blood' had stuck in the fore-front of mind, a reminder of the aura Choso had radiated, and the control he'd had. When he'd asked you to focus on him, to calm yourself, it had felt so natural to follow the flow of his voice and find solace within his presence - was this the presence of a pure-blood?

A car engine approaching had pulled you from the stupor you'd allowed yourself to hang within, head snapping upward and turning toward the doorway. You pressed yourself against the wall, eyes closed and focused on listening to the footsteps that had followed the slam of a car door. The sound of radio static had caused concern, a realization that whomever had been approaching the house had likely been law-enforcement, and by that respect, would know your face. When peeking to the hall, you'd watched a beam from flashlight scan the floorboards, booted feet stepping through.

"Anyone in here?" Low toned voice echoing through the house had your head had darting back, holding breath with back pressed to wall. Looking over your surroundings, you contemplated a better hiding place. Though, you'd became distracted when taking a steady inhale through your nose, an attempt to oxygenate your lungs after holding breath a little too long, your stomach dropped. Blood.

The stench had been intoxicating, unbearable. Just like the woman in the grocery store, the potent scent had been something you'd felt yourself incapable of ignoring, once dry mouth now salivating, sharpness of teeth and fangs apparent against skin. Thinking back to the store, imagining Choso's face, you tried your best to ignore the pull toward vein as she edged closer, drool falling from mouth as you'd squeezed eyes closed. Through darkness, images of blood had played throughout your mind, an inescapable urge as you pushed yourself from the wall, eyes meeting victim.

"Stop right there!" The officer had shouted, yet with your enhanced speed she'd been helpless. A wail ricocheted the empty walls of the entry-way as her arm had been twisted by your hand, weapon dropping to clatter to floor. Pushing her toward the wall, you'd lunged toward her neck, but she'd fought back with a knee to stomach and shove of hands. The actions she'd taken had mirrored your own from only a week prior, a painful reminder to the low you now found yourself within. She stumbled backward, helplessly flailing arms as she fought against your increased strength, but falling through the door to forest floor below. Lurching forward, your teeth had finally pierced the thick of her neck, face set against shoulder as she let out a weak cry.

Hunger. Within your core, echoing through your mind and body. Nothing but the desire to eat, and unwillingness to stop now the feast had begun. As you swallowed back blood, a snarl between swallows, you felt hands on your collar to follow with a sharp pull backwards. Your thirst had yet to be quenched before you'd been laying on your back, only feet away from the unconscious body. Heavy breaths, racing thoughts, you felt close to losing yourself. Her blood hadn't satisfied you yet, the curse within you begging to lunge back and drain every remnant.

But, there was still an aching hole her blood could not fill. Something about her hadn't been fulfilling enough, incomparable to the juices Choso had offered from neck. Such a sweet taste, thick and coating your throat - there had been a clear superiority. Was this the effect of pure-blood? Within you, a switch flickered, a need for more. Would you have to kill a hundred men to search for this taste one more time?

Through flurry of emotion, your name had been called, red eyes finally lifting from the unknown's bloodied neck to face the figure that had pulled you from her body.

Choso.

Mouth dropping open, overtaken with need, you pushed yourself from the ground to dart toward him. Hands had hit against hard chest, and through taking him by surprise, you'd succeeded in tackling him. Just as you pressed your palms to his bicep, teeth grazing neck in preparation to taste his lineage once more, his arms had broken free from your vice and flipped to thrash you against leaf covered mud. Choso had found dominance, holding your limbs roughly against the dirt to leave you paralyzed.

"Stop." He'd uttered the words through annoyed countenance, but you continued to try beneath him, baring teeth. "Stop!" Louder now, a hypnotizing pulse pulled you from frenzied state, eyes softening and body halting. You relaxed, chest heaving with consequence to unhinged breaths. Choso's grip loosened as he sat up, ungracefully stumbling from you to instead hurry his attention to the woman you'd left injured.

Dread coursed through your chest, a wave of nausea filling your stomach as you jolted upward. The meal previously scavenged from an innocent was regurgitated onto the floor, thick crimson falling from your mouth with deep heaves. Tears welled in your eyes as what had been tunnel-vision had lifted, the gravity of an intense situation setting in. It had been difficult to lift your gaze from the bloodied grass below, but you forced yourself to, watching as Choso had a hand placed over the innocent's head, eyes closed.

Surrounding him shone a white aura, chills cascading over your body in waves as you watched the pureness surround him. It felt as if you'd looked into his soul, an angelic song murmured into ears spoken by divine energy. Sound waves tickled your brain, eyes glossing over in awe. His eyes opened, blackness within them a contrast to what had felt to be heavenly divination blessing the unconscious body before him.

No words had left his lips as he pushed himself upward, no longer kneeling but instead coming toward you. As he moved, the aura lifted, reality set over the world. Colours that had been bleached by transfixed mind had faded back to the normal greens and browns of woodland. He came toward you in anger, balled fists only uncurling to reach at your collar, heavy footsteps dragging you to the other side of mangled brick. Only when behind the house had he spoken, but not before a harsh shove to the brick exterior. Upon impact, a cloud of dust gushed from weak foundation.

"What the fuck was that?" His tone hadn't been the same soft comfort you'd remembered, instead a deep hatred echoing through eardrum. You looked toward him wide eyed, the overpowering demonic presence within the colorless eyes feeding dread to core. "I lost control, I don't-" Stuttered words as you'd attempted to formulate a sentence, a panic setting over you. It felt hard to speak to a deity that had felt so strong.

"You're lucky I was here, or you'd have exposed us all." He loosened his grip on your shirt, taking a step rearwards. The stinging from your back had eased as you'd no longer been plush to hard brick, stumbling on feet. You were weak, the blood consumed from intense hunger now vacated from your body. Back to square one.

"I'm sorry." Your head was bowed, shoulders tense, but Choso could see your expression clearly. Regret, fear. He hadn't needed to use the powers imbued in him to read your thoughts because you displayed them clearer than day. "Is she okay?" The words uttered had caused Choso to sigh, a clear indication your intentions hadn't been from selfishness, but rather lack of control. His anger subsided as he watched you cry over the woman harmed, and felt a pull to aid you in self control. Though he hadn't trained a cursed-being before, he'd understood your confusion - he'd wanted to help.

"I changed her memories. She's fine." Flashes of the white aura came to mind as you thought back to his palm resting over her head. Had this been the power he'd used?

"Are you-" Looking to his eyes, you were met with the purple orbs you'd remembered when first meeting, the same eyes you brought to watch when attempting to ease hunger. There was solace in those eyes. Tired, yet soft, relief from the outer world radiating from him as if luring you in. "Are you a pure-blood?"

An exhale of amusement as his gaze dropped down, gliding over your feet. He folded an arm over the other. "You could say that. I'm a descendant of Lilith, the first curse." "That's why your eyes are black?" Choso nodded, painted nail grazing over the loose fitted sweater hanging from shoulders. "The Kamo carry Lilith's blood." He paused, finally lifting his sight from the autumn leaves to your apologetic gaze. "How did you know?"

A finger raised, you pointed to the brick behind you, a glance to broken windows before explaining. "A book, in there. There were drawings, ones of eyes that looked like yours, but-" Sighing, you pushed past anxiousness as you continued. "It said cursed-being don't share blood." Once finished, you refused to look toward him. Instead, you watched the trees surrounding you, tall and looming. Although ivy had covered the walls of the building beside you, it hadn't kissed the earth beneath or wildlife surrounding, as if protected by mother nature.

"We don't." Choso spoke with an authoritative tone. "But, you would've died if I hadn't, so just be thankful." Defensiveness hadn't been something Choso was used to, nor had scolding others. To be truthful, he hadn't strayed from the few friends he'd had, in a life he'd rather not live. Had saving you truly been a mercy? After-all, he'd not wanted the life gifted to him.

"Thank you." The words from your lips had caused his brooding expression to contort to curiosity. The hairs on his arms prickled as he surveyed your face.

"I can end it now, if that would be easier for you." Purple orbs watched you through a sympathetic gaze. "Your life left you when you drank from me. The moments that lie ahead are filled with pain, and suffering. This curse is unbreakable, the hunger insatiable." Choso wanted to show mercy, to undo actions he wished he hadn't chosen to take. You could stop now, if you so wished.

"I'll learn."

Head bobbing in acceptance, his cold chest tightened. Choso had led the same routine for decades, surrounded by the same faces, continuing the facade of humanity while allowing creatures below his status to feed. A new cursed-being drinking from the blood of Lilith had been a rarity in this world - you were the first to pierce his skin. The act of sharing hadn't been something he'd considered before he looked into your helpless expression, the inner fight between hunger and humanity. Though, on remembering the flow of that night, feeling another's fangs within his neck, venom coursing through his own stream and the hypnotizing suckling as you'd fed from him... he felt he couldn't lead the same lift again.

Your stomach growled with emptiness; a noise you'd began to hear more often. A sound that had been an ignition for Choso, twinge in his stomach and anxiety bubbling through a butterfly feeling he hadn't experienced since childhood. "You're hungry." His words had been more statement than question, and you'd shifted uncomfortably on your feet. Feeling exposed, you shied away, yet he had only stepped toward you with hand outstretched.

"You can drink from me, but this will be the last time." Choso felt a semblance of sorrow from those words, a desire to have you drain his entire being.

Although you'd wanted to decline the offer, to demonstrate a pretense of self-control, your feet moved forward without the consent of your mind. The curse within you ached in it's own right when hungry, mouth watering, lungs empty. Looking to his wrist, you'd approached him through desperation, yet the lust within his being had reminded him that the neck had felt so much better, especially when you'd been wrapped around his pretty cock.

Fallen leaves padded his legs, the tall bark of tree supporting his back and open arms as he gestured you to straddle him. You'd obliged, sitting upon his lap with thighs caging his, much like the night you hadn't wished to forget. A hiss had escaped parted lips when your teeth offered relief to the meat of his shoulder, a groan to compliment the honey oozing from jugular. Lapping over the skin, you sucked the thick, pouring gore, the high returning to kiss your being. Choso's blood made your body warm, head dizzy. If he wouldn't stop you, you'd drink for eternity.

His fingers brushed your neck, moving hair to the side. Pausing meal, you withdrew from his skin to tilt head to the side and welcome his bite. Sharp fangs had grazed flesh before puncturing, hum from lips when you felt your essence flow from you. His tongue dragged the length of your neck, open mouthed kisses running from your jaw. When his teeth dragged across skin, a strained moan had escaped lips, Choso grazing the spot beneath lobe, tongue swiping to cheek. Turning face to his, Choso adamantly pressed his lips to yous. Sloppy, animal-like kisses had been shared between you, teeth clashing and tongues sliding for a taste of the other. Hints of your blood had been coating his lips, and his on yours, arousal pooling.

Choso took your lips between his teeth, a harsh bite to draw blood. You mirrored this action to his own lips, deep and passionate kisses now decorated in iron twang, a mesmerizing flow between two beings. With one hand holding head in place, the other groped your body, sliding over the small of your back to squeeze over ass, humming as his forceful grab had left him wanting more.

Your back met with the dried mud and forest's debris, Choso's fingers hooking through the waistband of your trousers to pull them aggressively to ankle. His eyes were black, teeth sharp with an intense wraith radiating from his presence. This must have been the aura of Lilith's descendants, that of power, control. Looking to him had felt as if you were looking to a God, though with the curse demonizing him, it had been evident these creatures would be nothing more than false-Gods. Demons.

Choso ducked to seat his face between your legs, tongue gliding over folds to coax a whine from parted lips. The sudden movement had you to stirring beneath him, legs threatening to close. This had provoked Choso's hands to meet thigh, pressing legs to open wide. He lapped a stripe once more, before circling over the bud he'd craved, whines falling to appraise him. Breaths heavy, you bucked upward, finding a pace that transfixed both you and him. Your moans were captivating and spurred him on to continue, though the ache imprisoned by his trousers wouldn't be ignored much longer.

His hums vibrated over your core, back arching from forest floor as the throbbing in your abdomen had built itself much deeper, desperate grinds against the mouth that pleased you. "C-choso..." His name from your lips had been enchanting, an ethereal goddess charming his very being. Your fingers found their way to lace within black locks, tugging to the base of his skull, pulling him closer. He'd felt unable to breathe as you held him in place, yet continued on in bliss. His short pants had fanned against you, sharp breaths inward forcing him to inhale more of your scent.

The coil snapped, a wail and cry from lips as he continued to massage your folds with his tongue. Choso lapped at the slippery juices, groaning and swallowing back as much as he'd been able. When your whimpers grew quiet and your high fizzled out, Choso's teeth sunk into the fat of your inner thigh, large hands holding the limb in place as he tasted more of you.

His cheek pressed to your leg as he peered up at your disheveled state, chest rising and falling at rapid pace. When shifting, the tightness in his pants had grazed the forest floor, hips rolling as a shaking breath left his lips. Choso needed you, now.

Lining up to the dripping hole he pushed himself in, moaning at the sensation of your walls finally hugging him again, a warmth on cold skin. Since that first encounter, he'd tugged fist over himself, tightening hand in attempts to mimic how your insides had felt, yet he had always been left disappointed. To have you again, now, was as if he'd been blessed. He withdrew his appendage only to push it back in once more, red lip leaking and sensitive as he'd felt overwhelmed in pleasure.

With arms caging you beneath him, wrists grazing cheek, you tilted head to the side and bit into cartilage, a guttural groan spilling from his chest in excitement. Curses spewed from his lips as he felt his essence transferred to your being, cock twitching. His gaze dropped to watch himself disappear into you, thick base larger than he'd seen before - though he'd been sure this was due to pure arousal and lust. He considered the chance of you being his soulmate with how his body had felt against yours, two flames as one. A white ring around the base had demonstrated your pleasure and reminded him of the mules created with the movement of his mouth to your cunt, and Choso found himself pulling backward to kneel, pummeling cock and using the pad of thumb to massage just above.

Your back arched from the floor, eyes rolling to display only whites. You'd still been sensitive from the encounter before, reacting immediately to the contact his digit gave to you. "F-fuck, Choso, I can't-" The sensitivity had you gasping, each roll of hips to yours more intense than the last, a folding within the muscles of your stomach. "Take it, one more." Uttered quietly the instruction rang in your ears, hands grabbing at the soil yet finding solace in nothing. The moans from your lips had been much louder now, but within the bubble you'd felt yourself within, you felt confident Choso would be the only creature to hear desperate screams.

Once more, you lost control, blood stained mouth opening wide and muscles tightening, a flood of fluids coating Choso as he coaxed you through your climax. Several 'good girl's muttered inaudibly between thrusts, a squeeze over his cock. He leaned forward, face buried in your neck as he inhaled your scent deeply, unable to hold back as he bit into skin for a final time before his own end.

Your nails dug into the skin of his back beneath the shirt he'd still worn, thick and toned muscle beneath your palms. Dragging fingers down, you'd created eight burning lines from shoulder to hip as your body had been pummeled to the dirt below, though as Choso grunted and groaned, it had clearly encouraged him more.

His body his the amber leaves, laying with eyes closed, chest heaving. A comfortable silence had remained among nature, only ambiance of breaths and bird song. As one creature had called out, another had mirrored the mellow music from it's own beak, allowing the melody reprise.

"I think," You spoke quietly into the air. "Your brother knows about us." You watched the sky above the canopy, deep blue peeking through twisted branches. "Yuji? Hm." Choso's mind had been elsewhere, yet your voice had brought him to think of family, and the repercussions of the actions the pair of you'd seemed unable to falter. "Megumi said Yuji had been able to smell my blood when you came home - can you differentiate smells?" A leaf twiddled between fingers.

"Yeah, sometimes. Your scent is stronger than most - it's sweeter. Tastes good, too." The compliment had your cheeks burning, a flutter within your chest. "Yours is intoxicating." With your praise, it had been Choso's turn to heat up. "Lilith's descendants taste different. We have the purest form of the curse; we pull others to us like magnets. But, it's all a facade. It's a hunting mechanism, to draw innocents to our clutches, and to manipulate those turned by our kind." The consistent hum of his voice had lulled you.

"Do you dislike your species?" Choso thought for a few moments as he watched the same patch of sky. "Partially - but it's not our fault. It's Kenjaku's." A fledgling flew from one branch to another. " He experimented on Lilith, he cursed her and her children. We were born of wombs tortured by him, yet we have to live with the consequences from God."

His childhood had been unpleasant. Memories of torture, pain and suffering had come to fruition, but he'd learned to push them back. Kenjaku had been a name he'd not wanted to speak, but with you, he'd felt inclined to pass on the truth.

"Could you teach me more?" Your request was hushed through fear of rejection. He pondered. "Hm? About what?" "How to live like this, the history... everything." "Why?" He hadn't considered himself an airhead, though he couldn't find himself understanding the request. So much horror had surrounded that of cursed-beings, betrayal, sorrow. He hadn't been able to fathom why you wouldn't accept the naivete and ignorance as a gift. "This is my life now." Turning to your side, you glanced over the expressionless face beside you. Purple eyes glowed in the dying light of day, pale skin decorated in shadows cast by the trees above. He considered your request, beginning where it had all started.

"We could start with home, I guess." Choso spoke, and you'd pictured the house from your childhood, full of questions and wonder. It felt as if fate had called to you all those years ago, the draw to know what had been awaiting beyond brick and mortar. Though, perhaps the pull had been towards something else; someone. The being beside you had felt like home, after-all.

a/n: thank you so much if you read this far ! this fic took me 5 days to write, so i really hope it came out okay :,)

let me know if you guys want a part 2, there's a few ideas in my head honestly but i'm not sure how popular choso is and if people would even like that

but honestly i really put a lot into this so im nervous for what people are gonna say :')

also fun fact, just before writing this i finished evangelion and the Lilith idea is totally based off Lilith in evangelion lol

rbs and comments are really appreciated <3

tags: @suget @woozzz @goblinbabyy @iwassuna @iisuzuus @osamusriceballz @p-3-4-c-h @hakkaisgf @athyinherblues @maxi8898 @d0riannn @sanriocandies @akalisuguru @tiredjuniper @sugar-locket @nycvalntyne @anubisisthebomb

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