sugarplumxx

[sugarplumxx]

honeysuckle - aki h.

aki hayakawa loves his sister, perhaps a little too much…

cw: dark content, nsfw, incest, mental illness, trauma, gore/accidental self-harm, guilt (aki does bad things and feels bad about it), noncon, grooming/underage assault, so so many other things

aki might be ooc but i really wanted to write this for him <;/3

this has a LOT of triggering potential so interact at your own discretion!

“Aki…taste this!”

Your soft little voice rings out in the meadow as you bound over towards the boy, your hand outstretched with a few small flowers inside. 

“Taste it?” Your brother scrunches up his nose. “What are you talking about, stupid?”

“It tastes like sugar! Here, let me show you.”  

Your small hands pinch the base of one of the blossoms, right at the trumpet, and with a gentle tug of the stamen, you unpeel the flower. 

“Look, there’s the nectar.” A tiny drop hangs on the stamen. “Taste it, Aki, taste it!” He humors you, kneeling to let you place it in his mouth. A light, sweet flavor spreads across his tongue, and he hums.

“Tastes good.” “I got a bunch of them so that Taiyo can try.” He nods, smiling softly, although his stomach curls a little whenever you say his name. It’s stupid, he knows: he shouldn’t be jealous of his sister’s love for his brother. You love both of your brothers, and you love them the same.

Aki doesn’t want to be the same as Taiyo, though. Not in your eyes. He’s not sure what he wants, but it’s not that. 

His throat stings with a bitterness none of your nectar could help with. 

___

“Aki…” you breathe softly, your hands fluttering over his shoulders. “G’morning…” 

“Morning.” He breathes it into your neck, along with a soft kiss. “Slept well?” You nod, smiling gently. You always have that look about you — dazed and happy. You don’t seem to feel much else lately. 

“I dreamt about the meadow…when w-we were little.” “Did you?” He wraps his arms around your waist.

You nod again, melting into his embrace.  

“...dreamt that you and I were picking honeysuckle.”

He chuckles. You and your flowers. 

“Can’t remember w-what it tastes like, though…”

“You can’t? I can.” He remembers, clear as day. Holding your hand in the early summer, the two of you running through the field by your old house. You’d stop and wait for Taiyo, which would make him pout, and then the three of you would skip at your pace to the river. Taiyo would search for shiny rocks and you would pick honeysuckle while Aki read under the shady tree…

“Aki?”

You look up at him with big, wide eyes, innocent and pure.

“A-Am I gonna leave the house today?”

He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Don’t think so.” Your face doesn’t even fall anymore. “It’s safer for you to stay inside. Especially with my job…” You don’t even know what his job is. You wouldn’t understand if he told you, so you don’t ask. 

“Okay, Aki…” Nothing is sweeter than your blind trust.

___

You hear from a woman in town that honeysuckle tea has healing properties, and immediately set about making it for your brother.

Taiyo has been sick for over two years now. Aki wants to call you stupid: if the doctors can’t help him, there’s no way that your silly tea will. But he holds his tongue because knows you’ll cry if he tells you the truth.

You crush the flowers in the kitchen, humming quietly to yourself. For only being nine, you have an endearing determination that draws Taiyo to you, and he sits beside you, watching intently.

“What are you doing?” “Making you tea. It’ll help you.”

“Really?” He smiles softly. “Thank you.” Once you’ve put the flowers into water, you let it sit for a long time in the fridge. Your parents leave to take Taiyo to his weekly doctor’s appointment, so you and Aki are left alone, something that happens all too often. You sit next to him on the couch, eventually falling asleep on his chest. 

He smiles, stroking your hair softly. Such a small child, so soft and innocent. You are nothing if not blind — blind with hope, with joy, with love. Aki won’t break your heart by telling you that your brother won’t live past Christmas. 

Honeysuckle tea won’t mend the wounds in your hearts after you lose him, and he knows that. 

___

The door swings open, and you immediately stand, putting your little fidget toy down and running over to him. 

“Aki!” He brushes past you, his face set in a hard line. There’s a splatter of blood across his jawline, one that your eyes widen at. You rise up on the balls of your feet, trying to wipe it away.

“You okay, Aki?”

“Stop,” he says softly, pushing you aside again. 

“But you’re bleeding.” “No, I’m not.” “Aki, are you sure—” “Just shut the fuck up!” He shouts, shoving you away from him.

You stumble back, losing your footing and falling onto the floor in front of him. 

“You’re such a stupid, stupid girl, fuck! Can you ever just leave me the fuck alone?!” A soft whimper comes from your lips, and he stops when he sees your wide-eyed gaze, watching him with those adorable eyes.

You’re not even crying. You don’t even look afraid. Just…confused. 

“W-What did I…?” You ask after a little bit. “How…did I get on the floor?”

He lets out a long sigh, his eyes and throat stinging with guilt. “You tripped.” He reaches out a hand to help you up. “You feel okay?” “Mhm.” You nod, nuzzling into his shoulder. “M’fine, Aki.” “I know you are.” His hand trembles as it brushes over your hair. “I love you, sweet girl.” “Love you too…”

Later that evening, you lay on the bed, your hands gripping the sheets tightly. Soft whimpers leave your lips, your eyes big and glassy as they watch the ceiling. 

“Aki…” He licks at the sensitive place between your legs, and you feel soft thrums of pleasure coming from your tightening stomach. With one particularly rough kiss, your mouth falls open and your eyes tear up.

“O-Oh…”

“Look at me, sweet girl.” You try, but you can’t adjust your gaze. It’s like you’re sinking into the bed, into your own body, down and away and disconnecting from everything physical. 

“Hey.” You feel a slap against your thigh, but you don’t even react. “Hey! I said look at me.” “M…m’trying…” your head falls to the side. “I…” You drift off again, feeling yourself start to sink even deeper. There’s nothing for you to worry about though: it’s safe and warm and quiet, nothing but you and your brother and the pleasure he brings your body as he tastes your nectar. 

___

“This is where I live, said the city mouse. And oh, what a big house it was! The city mouse’s family—” “Daddy, daddy! Can we play catch outside?” Your voice is soft, always so hesitant to speak to your parents. 

Zipped into your coat, wrapped in a scarf and mittens, bundled into a beanie, you smile up at your parents excitedly. Your oldest brother stands behind you, a glove in his hands and a scowl on his face.

“Taiyo doesn’t feel well,” your father replies. “Why don’t you two play together, instead?” “He never does,” Aki mumbles. “I don’t remember him ever feeling good.”

“You’re the older brother.” Your mother’s face is all hard lines and tired eyes. “Be good and play with your sister alone.” Aki sighs, his hand on your shoulder. He doesn’t care whether your parents play or not. He just wants to be with you. The only reason that he humored you and came to ask with you was so you wouldn’t cry. 

“I…I wanna play with them.” Taiyo’s voice is soft, looking at the two of you shyly. 

You nod excitedly, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Aki tries not to roll his eyes. He doesn’t want to share you with your brother. His parents, his toys, his life…you’re the only thing in this house that still belongs to him. 

He grits his teeth as he stomps through the snow. It’s blanketed everything outside in a layer of pure, glistening white. Aki’s walking ahead, too fast for Taiyo to keep up, so you bridge the gap by staying in the center. 

“Quit following us,” he says bitterly. 

Taiyo doesn’t say anything, still walking behind you, and you turn to look between the two of them.

“Aki—”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying! I said cut it out!” Without thinking, he launches a handful of snow at his little brother. It hits him in the chest, and the way you gasp and run over to make sure he didn’t hit him too hard makes Aki feel like he’s been hit himself. 

“We’re gonna go play. By. Ourselves.”

Before you can scold him for being horrible, a ball of snow comes flying back at Aki and hits him square in the face.

Without thinking, you burst out laughing, along with Taiyo, and the two of you nearly collapse.

“He got you!” You say, giggling. “Aki!” “Stupid! Both of you are so stupid!” He throws another handful, this time at you, and you scream with glee as you hop in place.

“That was mean!” You shout, still laughing. “I’ll get you back!” He lets out a grunt of protest as your snowball hits him in the side, but you gasp as Taiyo hits you with one in turn.

“Traitor!” You get Aki in the face again, much to your delight, and he eventually gets frustrated and just pushes a handful into your face. You sniffle, brushing it off, and Taiyo pants heavily beside you, his pale hands quivering a little. 

“Hey. If you catch a cold, we’ll get in trouble,” Aki says eventually. 

“Maybe we should play catch instead…” you say softly. “His hands won’t be cold then!” The way your brother’s eyes light up is unlike anything you’ve ever seen since the day he came home from the hospital. It makes your stomach warm and floaty, and you giggle at what Aki says next.

“Go grab a glove from inside. We’ll wait right here, okay?”

“Okay…okay! Don’t go, okay?” “We’ll wait!” You say, calling after your brother. “Should I go with him? Does he know where the gloves are—

The loudest roar you’ve ever heard stops you as a violent, powerful wind blows you over. Aki instinctually grabs for you to keep you from being tossed up into the chaos, but it’s over as quickly as it started — just without your home anymore. 

You don’t register that you’re screaming until your voice stops working.

___

You chop carrots in the kitchen to go atop the salad that you’ll have with dinner tonight. Aki bought garlic bread and you’ve put the pasta on to boil already. You’re glad he trusted you to make dinner, although you’re not sure why he wouldn’t.

Aki can be so distant sometimes. You can’t help but feel like he’s been drifting away from you, like you can’t focus on each other, like he’s been…fuzzy. 

Or maybe it’s just your vision. You’re not sure which, although you know for certain that your dreams have been getting quieter. Softer. Less…just less. The same can be said for life, sometimes—the few and far between days that your brother tells you it’s safe to go outside, the colors seem a little more muted, the voices a little quieter around you. 

It’s too much to think about. You push it out of your mind, starting to feel that pleasant, dull buzzing behind your eyes as your hand comes down over and over, chopping and chopping.

Aki leans back into his chair, slouching on the balcony. A cigarette hangs from his lips as he listens to the sounds of the city, the sun setting beneath the skyline. It’s beautiful, really.

Despite all his stress, he’s glad to have this home. To have you. To have a life together. Despite what the costs may be.

“Aki…” He turns to see you standing in the doorway, smiling softly, raising a hand with three fingers missing. “Dinner’s ready.” 

He freezes with horror at the way the three stubs gush with blood, the flow almost rhythmic and red rivulets pouring down your slim forearm. 

“Fuck!” Aki runs up to you, and you seem confused. He wants to swear again, now is not the time for your zoning out, for you to distance yourself. 

“What happened?” He sits you on the toilet, the seat down and your head leaning against the wall. You whine a little as he presses a towel to staunch the blood flow, but still don’t seem to understand — gazing up at him with a sweet, dopey look in your eyes.

You cut off your own fingers, and you aren’t even scared.

Tears start to pour from his eyes before he can stop himself, and your face falls a little.

“Aki…what’s…wrong?” “I’m so sorry.” He weeps into your hair, his hands shaking. “I’m so, so sorry…” “For what?” You tilt your head, smiling softly. 

“For everything…everything I’ve done.”

___

The first time Aki takes you, the guilt almost stops him.

You tremble when he brushes his hands against your stomach, whimpering a little.

“Tickles, Aki.” “I know. Stay still, okay?” The tiny apartment is nothing special. You’ve been holed up here for two months, courtesy of the government. Two months since you lost everything. 

You cry pretty much every day. It’s practically all that you do.

“Why…why are y-you touching me?” You ask softly. “What are you doing?” “Just…just want to make you feel good. You’ve been so sad lately.” Your lip quivers, and he scoffs. Of course he said the wrong thing, and now you’ll start crying again.

“Come here. Let me kiss you, okay? You’ll feel better.” It’s an idea that makes you hesitate, but you don’t pull away when he leans in, pressing his lips to your softer ones. Your mouth tastes like the peach juice you drank with lunch, sweet like nectar. 

You gasp after he pulls away, looking up at him with those same, big eyes. He kisses your forehead, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“See?” You nod ever-so-slightly. 

“S’better…but I…I-I’m still…” You start to sniffle again. “M’sorry, I—” “Don’t apologize. Let me still…let me make it better.” His lips attach to your neck, pressing soft but hungry kisses down the side of your neck. His mouth kisses your chest, the parts not covered by your tank top, and travels down to your bare stomach before he looks up at you, his face just above your hips.

Long, lithe fingers hook into your sleep shorts, and you whine as he pulls them down. You poor thing, you’re shaking. He knows how scary this must be, how overwhelmed your brain is, still so raw after all of what you’ve just lost. 

He’s lost nothing. He has all he needs, right here.

One finger dips inside of you, and you let out a long, shaky whimper. 

“Hurts, Aki—” “I know. Just relax.” You have a hard time “relaxing”, your hips bucking and legs twitching as a single digit inside of you fries your brain. He strokes the bony part of your hip, trying to help calm you.

“Just watch me, okay? Just…keep your eyes on me.” You nod, your teeth clamped down on your lip. A poor, sweet little flower ripped from its stem.

The white-hot cry you let out the first time he sinks into you is almost enough to make him stop.

“Aki! S’too m-much…” “I know. Just breathe. Look at me and breathe.” He finishes quickly, too young for true stamina. After he’s done, his sweaty forehead plastered to yours, he pulls away and out as gently as he can.

You collapse back onto the pillows, your small hands going up to cover the flower between your legs, red and irritated and dripping with fluids you don’t understand. Like bruised rose petals that drip with nectar, nectar mixed with the blood of your innocence. 

___

For the first time in three months, Aki allows you to go outside. 

“It’ll be good for you, I think.” He hopes it’ll be good for you. He’s losing you too quickly — whatever is eating away at your brain has been accelerating, and he hopes it’s not too late to try and bring you back, bring his sister back. 

You walk to the nearest bus stop, dressed in a sundress he chose since you say they all look the same. On the bus, his fingers rest on your leg reassuringly, and your eyes flutter closed, head leaning against the window. Your mutilated hand dances over your other knee, your good finger stroking the soft floral fabric beneath it. 

“M’sleepy, Aki.” “I know…just thought it would be fun.”

You smile softly and nod. 

“Thank…thank y-you.” A gentle squeeze of your thigh makes you hum.

You reach the stop rather quickly. Dazed and distant, you follow behind your brother, your hand snug in his as he leads you down the trail. This is the last stop on the bus route — the end of the line, as they say. 

He’s not sure what he’ll do if this can’t bring you back.

The gardens are beautiful at this time of day — half an hour past ten, a warm breeze ruffling your hair and the soft gurgling of the creek that runs through the area. Birds are singing nearby, flowers are in bloom, and it’s mostly empty save for the small children who frolic in the grass and the old couples feeding ducks by the water. 

At the end of the field lies a stone retaining wall, about three feet high. At the top, there are thick tresses of ivy, along with the clusters of the flowers you taught him to identify.

“Ah, here we are.” He sits you down on the wall, smiling gently. You watch him, that same soft look on your face, although confused now as you see him pick some of the blooms.

“What’re you doing, Aki?” “They’re honeysuckle.” “Honey…suckle?” You hum. “That’s a pretty name.” 

“Don’t you remember?” He kneels in front of you, one of the flowers in his hand. “You taught me how to eat them. Can you show me again?” You frown a little, but then giggle, shaking your head.

“Eat them? I don’t…remember. I-I’m sorry.” 

His jaw clenches, and he shakes his head.

“No, no…you have to remember. For me. How do we...how do we get the nectar out?” You shrug, still smiling. 

“Dunno, Aki. Don’t think I’ve ever heard of honeysuckles before.”

[sugarplumxx]

Gracie I just wanted to say that you’re absolutely brilliant!! Keep on writing, I’ll be keeping an eye on your updates!! Xo

tysm this is so kind! i will be posting another work very soon so keep an eye out <333

[sugarplumxx]

adult | call me gracie

i write dark content so please block don't report, mdni

m.list

actually in love w toji | i will take requests 🫶🏼

[sugarplumxx]

masterlist

toji fushiguro

strangers - 4.38k

aki hayakawa

honeysuckle - 3.06k

more works coming soon!

[sugarplumxx]

strangers - toji f.

inspired by strangers by ethel cain/bones and all!! basically a tokyo ghoul au because cannibalism as a metaphor for love >> 

cw: nfsw, blood + gore, violence, cannibalism 

You meet Toji in the spring.

It’s a beautiful day. 

One of those days right after a rainstorm, where the ground is damp but the sky is dry: cool and crisp and ebbing into March. Residual raindrops trickle from the leaves, splattering to the ground every so often, occasionally landing in your hair. Not worth an umbrella.

It’s a beautiful day, and you’re being followed.

Late afternoon, after you’ve run all of your errands, picked up a drink at your favorite café, and are ready to walk home. Except you can't, because a man in a black hoodie and navy beanie has been following after you for the past fifteen minutes.

You try and shake him, walking around a few corners, even taking enough left turns to get full circle, and he’s still tailing you. You check behind yourself, and when you look back, he’s close enough for you to see the hunger in his eyes.

Not sure if it’s ghoulish hunger, or just the kind that men so often bear. Not sure if it’s the kind that eats at the flesh or at the soul.

Either way, it’s not safe. 

You try and head back towards the crowded part of town. With more people, it’ll be easier to shake him. Better yet, find a public bathroom or somewhere with other women. Still, that’s ten minutes out, and you start to walk a little quicker. Of course, this is the day you forgot your pepper spray. Not that it would help if he truly is a ghoul. 

Ghouls, you’ve learned, have appetites unlike any others.

You don’t fully notice the man leaning against the building until you’re close enough to smell his scent: deep and musky, like Marlboro reds and hard liquor. He’s tall, at least six foot two, and despite his jacket you can tell he’s well-built. Against your better judgment, you slide next to him, far enough to be appropriate but close enough that he looks down at you with his piercing dark green eyes.

“Please, help me…” You whisper, almost too soft to hear. “I-I’m being followed, and I don’t know what to—” He cuts you off with a scoff, running a big, veiny hand through his dark hair. You panic, worrying that you’ve fallen out of the frying pan and into the fire, but before you can decide what to do next the beanie creep has gotten close. He watches you with a dumb smirk, but his eyes settle on the mountain of a man beside you and he swallows heavily.

“Got something to say?” The man asks, tilting his head a little. Beanie gulps again, shaking his head. 

“Didn’t think so. Scram, freak.”

With a last look at you, the man scurries off, and the guy beside you sighs heavily. You’re ready to leave now, to get home and lock your door and shower both of their gazes off of you. 

“I-I—” “Shouldn't be out alone. S’not safe. Pretty little thing like you…” He adjusts, looking down at you again. 

“I-I was just running errands…” “M’sure you were. But you should run along now, too.” His hand ghosts over your shoulder before he gives you a soft shove. “Better that no freaks get their hands on you.” You do as he says, the place where he touched you tingling all the way home.

___

Toji sees you again in a few days’ time. He’s not sure what cosmic force has brought you two together again, but he wants it to fuck off and leave him be. It’s bad enough that he hasn’t had a good meal in a few weeks, but you’re just too pretty, smell too good, too soft and sweet and shy for his self control. 

It’s out at a café, of all the cliché places to see a pretty girl. You’re dressed in a cute little sweater and denim skirt, typing away at a laptop with a coffee and pastry in front of you, both untouched. As the little bell rings, your eyes flutter up to the door and then widen when you see him. Shit. Before he can back away from you, you’re already standing and walking up to him.

“H-Hi again.” “You need me to get rid of another douchebag, or can I get a drink?” He’s an asshole, and he knows it, he wants to rip himself apart for the way your face falls a little (but not as much as he wants to rip you apart, to tear into your flesh and lick your bones clean—)

“I never got a chance to thank you. I didn’t even really say it, I-I’m sorry, I was overwhelmed and I didn’t know what to say—” He grunts, cutting you off with a shrug, but you seem to be insistent.

“Let me pay for your drink, at least.” He can’t refuse free shit. But he should refuse sitting at your booth with you. Perhaps he would if he could, but regardless of shoulds, woulds, and coulds, he does, and he takes a swig of his steaming black coffee as his eyes pierce into you again.

You’re just so…you. The little twitch of your nose, almost like a bunny, whenever you sniffle. The soft way you speak, you tell him about how grateful you still are and how you were just so scared, scared for your life if the man was a ghoul—

His stomach curls at the way you say it. Not like it’s a dirty word, or like it’s something wrong. Simply that it’s something that would have put you in even more danger than if he was a mere human. 

Something that is putting you in danger right now, with the man in front of you, making permanent indents in his palms with how hard he’s clenching his hands.

He’s dangerous, and he knows that. The day you first came up to him, he had considered tearing into your pretty throat. If he hadn’t made you run along so fast, he probably would have. 

But you’re dangerous. The way you look at him, smile, the way you offer to share your pastry with him and the soft pout when he refuses. 

“Do you want your own?”

“Nah. M’not hungry.”

You’re just good. Not nice out of courtesy, not because you’re trying to repay him, but because you’re genuinely good and don’t want him to go hungry. But he is going hungry, and you’re not helping, if anything you’re making it worse because he wants to, needs to devour you.

“What’s your name, mister?” “Toji.” He’s not sure why he tells you. “You got one?” You do, and it’s beautiful, as sweet on your lips as he knows your flesh would be on his. 

You’re good, and you’re dangerous because of that. 

Toji knows this, but he still saves your contact in his phone. He knows this, but he still sees you the next Saturday afternoon, waiting outside of the craft place. 

He’s lied to you a lot to get to this point. Originally you thought about going to dinner, but he said that he had too many dietary restrictions (you believed him, because why else would he be drinking black coffee?) and preferred to eat at home. You’d wondered about a movie, but he’d said that he’d prefer to go somewhere that you could really talk, and not that he was worried that anywhere with you and him together in the dark would send him over the edge. You’d even suggested a museum, but he said that he wanted to look at you, not art. 

Toji imagined the way you’d blush when he sent that text. He couldn’t stop himself from flirting, no matter how much it tore him up, because he knew it’d make you happy. 

He’d rather break himself than break your heart. Your stupid, little, fragile heart. 

Your heart, that would be so easy to rip out, to suck clean as it tries desperately to keep beating—

Ceramic painting. Safe enough. Even kind of cute, although he’s no romantic. He meets you there, trying to ignore how adorable you look in your sundress and cardigan, and for the next two hours or so, the two of you talk over painting pottery.

He wasn’t sure about it going into it, but he’s enjoying it now, maybe even a little too much. He’s never painted before, not the type, but it’s satisfying how the colors blend together as he swirls dark and light blues together—

“Oh, ouch—” You let out a soft whine, immediately putting your finger into your mouth. You’d cut it on a raw edge of a mug, and he grips the table, the smell of your blood syrupy sweet and sickeningly mouthwatering. You grab a bandaid from your bag, focused on covering up the wound, and by the time you look up, Toji’s gone.

“Toji?” You call out, before standing. “Toji?” You step outside of the building, seeing him walking away, and a stab of fear rips through your chest. Did you say something wrong? Do something? Did he get mad at you, upset? “Wait!” He turns, his jaw hardened and gaze not meeting yours. You catch up to him, panting a little, your eyes starting to tear up. Sometimes you hate how sensitive you are. 

“W-Where are you going?” “I can’t…be around you,” he says, after a pause. “You…it’s not safe. It’s for your own good.” “What do you mean? Did I do something wrong—” “No, fuck, no! No, that’s the problem. You’re too…perfect. You smell good, your skin looks so soft, and I—godamnit. Look, I’m glad we talked, but I’m sorry. I can’t do this to myself any longer, or to you—” “Do what?” You’re about to cry, and he wants to scream. He doesn’t want you to cry. “I don’t want to hurt you!” It comes out too loud, and he looks around before stepping forward. “But I put you in danger by being around you.” You seem to be processing it a little more now. The blood on the mug being what set him off. The lack of eating, the hunger in his eyes that you’d mistaken for romantic interest.

“Oh…o-oh.” You look down at the ground. “Okay.” He feels his heart breaking, and he wants to scream again. Why? Why does it hurt so badly to see the way you stare at your shoes, the way you’re clearly trying to hold it together? He’s known you for less than two weeks, seen you twice before this, it shouldn’t matter. 

“I like you…” he says after a while. “You’re a cute kid. Should have a guy your age, who won’t want to eat you, not a monster.”

“M’not a kid,” you say softly. “And you’re not a monster. You helped me, remember?” He does remember. 

“Toji, you saved me. I don’t…a monster wouldn’t do that.”

“Doesn’t mean anything.” It does, fuck, it does, it means so much, too much. “Just…just forget about all of this okay?” “I don’t want to forget.” You’re going to cry again. “I..I-I know it was fast, but I…I thought we were…” You trail off, feeling stupid. He knows how you feel, though, and in another life if he was just a regular man, he’d let himself admit that he feels the same way. 

“I like you.” He repeats. “But I don’t want to hurt you.” You nod, but your eyes are still watery. He knows he’s breaking your heart.

“S’for your own good, kid.”

___

Toji eats the next day. Eats to fill the void that you left in him, to fill the space in his stomach that he knows you should occupy. Some random creep hitting on girls at the bar with pills up his sleeve that Toji invites out to “share a catch with.” 

The fucker believes him, and is shocked to find that there’s no drugged up girl in the alley next to the bar, but in fact a six-foot-four ghoul who tears his throat out before he can even scream. 

The meal is good. Enough to take some home for later. He packages it well, throwing it into the fridge and washing off the blood from his boots. He showers, the scalding water on his back enough to ground him again. No longer starving, he thinks a little clearer.

Once he’s in bed, he stares at the ceiling, a different kind of hunger panging in his stomach. 

He sees you, your stupid teary face and stupid ditsy smile. He hates you for how much he’s thought about you, but what’s worse is that he’s thought about more than eating you.

He wishes all he wanted to do was eat you. Things wouldn’t be so painful then.

He could have meant it when he said it was for your own good.

Toji texts you the next day.

Can we talk? 

You meet by the waterfront that night. It’s still chilly, the breeze enough to ruffle your hair, and you huddle into yourself a little. Toji keeps a safe distance, not too close. It takes a little bit for you to talk.

“What did you…want to talk about?” He swallows before he responds. 

“About you. I just want you to understand, kid, I didn’t want to hurt you.” “I know that.” You look up at him. “But…it still hurts. Either way, I think it would.”

After another long pause, you speak again.

“Are you going……to eat me?”

“Don’t think I can, kid.”

You turn to look up at him. He’s so much bigger than you, not just height-wise, but overall mass. You know that you wouldn’t stand a chance against him. What you don’t know is why you aren’t more afraid.

“It’s the easiest part, isn’t it? To kill? Easier than the chase, than the begging and pleading.”

“It’s the hardest part. To know that…that something’s gone because of you. Something you can’t have anymore.”

“Oh, that’s awfully philosophical, old man.” You elbow him playfully. “Finally acting your age?” “Yeah, killing you might be easier than I thought.” His chuckles are light, dancing up into the night sky, and you lean your head against his shoulder. He takes a deep breath in, you feel his whole body move as he does, as he accepts this.

“I don’t think you’ll kill me, Toji. I feel…I feel safer with you than I do alone.” He nods. 

“Maybe…we can figure something out, kid.”

___ Toji fucks you for the first time after a month of you two actually being together.

He takes you to restaurants, ghoul-run restaurants underground that you have no business going to, but with him beside you, he knows no one will give you trouble. You bring your own food, takeout he pays for on the way there, and you sit together in the back corner. He takes you to the movies, to go painting and hiking and watches you eat ice cream at the park. 

He doesn’t touch you, though, and that makes you crazy.

You’ve never been a needy person. You’ve always preferred to help others, to people-please, to deny yourself in favor of indulging others. The only sex you’ve ever had was purely for your partners, to make them happy. 

The last guy you had sex with took advantage of that. He was handsome enough that you were with him for about four months, and during that time you learned quickly to hold yourself back. The guy took you when he wanted you, where he wanted you, how he wanted you: quiet and complacent.

Toji doesn’t seem to want you at all.

You work up the courage to ask him one night, relaxing at his house after a dinner date.

“Am I…am I not your type? As far as…sex goes?” He looks over at you from across the couch. He won’t even hold you.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” “You don’t touch me…I mean, we’re watching a movie and you don’t even hold me…we never hold hands or anything.” “I don’t touch you so that I don’t kill you.” You nod, swallowing a little. You like being with Toji, but he can be so blunt. It hurts a little, sometimes.

He sighs, his gaze softening, and reaches over to brush his hand against your cheek.

“Look at me.” You do.

“I…I want you. In all of the good ways. But also in all of the ways that should scare you.” “It doesn’t scare me, Toji. You don’t scare me like that. I trust you.” His eyes widen a little, like he’s never heard that before.

“Fuck, kid. You’re gonna be the death of me.” He says the same thing later on, as he slowly and gently thrusts into you. You let out a whimper, your head falling forward and quick gasps leaving your mouth.

“Squeezing around me like this. Didn’t know you were this needy.” His dirty talk is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. It’s about more than just himself, more than just your body, but about both of you and how you’re connected. He’s also big, so big inside you that you can’t help but tear up with each controlled movement of his hips.

“God, m’gonna lose my fucking mind. She’s so wet for me, hm? So tight.” You nod, letting out another little whimper. You’ve always been the type to get less vocal when you’re overwhelmed, and if there’s anything that overwhelms you it’s the drag of his cock against your walls, the slap of his hand against your skin, the way he groans into your neck when he gets close. You flop forward after he guides you to orgasm, talking you through it the whole way and then chuckling when he sees you go limp.

“M’not done, kid. You wanted me to touch you, to take you…so I’ll take what’s mine, yeah?”

___

You move into Toji’s house in late summer. 

It’s humid the day he comes to your old apartment in his truck, loading the boxes into the bed and wiping his sweaty face with his white tee. His hand grips yours as he drives you home for the first time.

After unloading everything, you sit together on the floor by the fan. He’s watching a soccer game, leaned against the couch and nursing a beer, and you put your head in his lap as you nap in the sunlight. 

You drift in and out of sleep, lulled by the feeling of him stroking up and down your spine, his hand slipped beneath the cotton of your tank top. 

After a few hours of dozing, you get up to find something to eat. He stays, his own eyes starting to grow heavy, but he’s snapped out of it by the little noise you make when you open the fridge.

“Oh yeah, forgot to tell you. There’s meat in there…” “I can see that.” You cringe a little, trying to look past the wrapped and sealed hunks of still-raw flesh inside.

“I can freeze ‘em. But there should be—” “Food?” He can hear the way you scrunch up your nose at the word. “Toji, did you buy food for me?” He blushes, shaking his head.

“No idea what you’re talking about, kid.” “There are apples in here. Apples, pomegranates…oh, and a few premade things as well!”

He’s silent, not responding, and you smile, heart swelling.

“Thank you.” “Figured…you’d need something to fill you up.” “Mh, I have that already.” 

___

He comes home covered in blood.

“Not mine,” he tells you, his hand fluttering against your cheek. “Don’t furrow those brows at me, I’m fine.” “You’re covered in blood,” you say softly, shaking your head. “That’s…you’re not fine.”

He looks down at you, his eyes soft with some kind of gaze that almost mocks your concern. 

“Just said it wasn’t mine.” “That’s worse.” You look up at him, your eyes hard with a look that tells him he’ll never understand. “Come on. I’ll wash you off.” You’re cryptic sometimes. Toji doesn’t like that. He prefers people to be more blunt, the way he is. Or maybe he feels like he’s missing something, and that’s not something he’s used to. 

He sits in the water, water that has long turned pink, and he asks.

“Why is it worse?” “Hm?” You pause running the warm washcloth over his back. “What’s that?” “You said it was worse that the blood wasn’t mine. I don’t…why is it worse?” He hears you sigh, feels the soft breath against his shoulder blades as the puff leaves your lips. 

“…I saw a dog kill a bunny yesterday.” “What?”

There’s a soft, warm feeling, a press of your cheek against his skin as you rest your head on his damp flesh. 

“When I was walking in the woods. I saw them…it loved that bunny. I knew it.”

“How’s that?” “It ripped its throat out. And then it licked it, kissed it with all the passion you could imagine.”

He frowns, feeling you wrap your arms around his body, now scrubbed clean. “It takes a lot to die. But it also takes a lot to kill.”

He takes you that night, again. Again, and again, and again. You can barely keep your eyes open as he ruts himself into you, deep into that place that makes you jolt and punches soft little whines from the back of your throat.

His lips graze over your neck, right over your pulse, and you feel him press kisses to the vein.

He could tear you open right now. You would bleed out in his arms. But he’s not doing it, and if he’s led you to believe anything, it’s that it takes him an immense amount of control not to do so every second he’s around you.

“Something made you clench, baby?”

You whimper in response, your hands fluttering against his broad shoulders. You can feel him in your cervix, so close and deep that if it weren’t for the little pill you take every morning, he’d have gotten you pregnant already. Creating life with you, when his greatest fear is taking it away from you.

“I love you, Toji,” you whisper after he’s collapsed on top of you and pulled you into his chest. 

You’re not sure if he’s awake to hear it, but you feel how he stiffens ever-so-slightly.

“Don’t have to say it back. Not if it’s not…right. I just want you to know.” “Shh. I love you too, kid.” ___

He’s always known that being around you puts you in danger. He thought it was due to his own inhibitions, his own desires, his own twisted hunger. 

Not his own past catching up with him. 

He gets a text one afternoon while he’s at work. It’s from you, and he smiles, preparing himself for a daily post-lunch check-in.

All it is is a location. 

Immediately, he stands, trying to call you, but it goes straight to voicemail. Shit. He feels hot panic pooling in his stomach, as he gets close to the place. 

Some alleyway. Not far from home. Not safe. 

He can hear soft whimpers, pained and terrified, and he sprints down the alley, his eyes landing on the beanie fucker from before who has you pinned to the wall. Your phone lays shattered nearby, along with your jacket, and you’re letting out cries as he digs his hands into your stomach and devours what he finds there.

Toji snaps the man’s neck before he understands what’s happening. He throws the man against the other side of the wall, his hands tearing into his cracked neck and pulling it apart. 

The man doesn’t matter anymore.

You lay at the base of the wall, a sickeningly sweet red smeared on the brick above you. Legs having failed to keep you held up, too weak to support you, now crumpled uselessly underneath your broken form. There’s more liquid pooling beneath you, coming from your stomach, your nose, the corner of your mouth, too much to be healthy, and Toji’s beside you, pulling you into his lap.

“Hey, look at me. Keep those eyes on me.”

You cough, a deep red sputtering past your lips as you try to say something. He shushes you again, trying to assess where the blood is coming from. He finds the giant hole in your abdomen, the place the stains are forming, and a whimper comes from the back of his throat.

“N-no.”

He presses his hands to the wound, trying to stop the blood. It’s all over his hands, syrupy and mouthwatering in a way that makes his stomach turn.

There’s a gasp, a horribly pained gasp, followed by too quick breaths and wheezy begs for him to stop, to let up, not to press there, it hurts—

“I know, I-I know, fuck! I’m sorry, baby girl…” “D-don’t…don’t be…sor…” you trail off, your big eyes watching him intently. “S’okay.” “No, it’s not,” he sobs, his voice breaking. “You have to stay with me. I-I need you…” “H-hurts,” you whisper. “I-I…I need it to…to go a-away…” “What to go away? What do you need? Talk to me.” “The…the p-p…” You drift off again. “Hurts…” 

“I know it hurts. But I need you to stay awake so I can figure out how to make you feel better.” “M-make it stop…” your voice is small. “Please, Toji��”

“I don’t know how.” His voice cracks again. “I don’t know what to do…” “It’s the e-easiest thing, Toji, to eat…”

“No. No, I can’t. I-I can’t do that.” “Y-yes…” 

He sobs, shaking his head. He needs you. He doesn’t want to live without you. 

“I can’t be the reason y-you go.”

“M’not…going…a-any—” you cough up some more blood. “I’ll wait for y-you…at home, yeah?”

“Y-Y…yeah…” “I’ll keep the bed warm.”

You let out a soft, pained whimper, barely audible, as his teeth find your neck. He sobs into it, the taste so sweet but so bitter, burning on his tongue. Your last breath is gentle, peaceful, and wants to imagine you that way forever. Not like this. 

You’re all over his mouth, dripping onto the cobblestones of the alleyway. He lets out another sob. Your taste is all he’s ever craved, your flesh all he’s ever needed. All he needs is to eat. To love you and eat.