i recently received a review stating they've read the exact same fic on wattpad and was wondering if i was the same author. now, for whatever reason, that person decided to make their review anonymous, leaving me unable to reply to them.
let me make this clear, i do not publish my fics on wattpad. if you come across one of my fics on wattpad, it has been plagiarized.
i google searched the text and searched wattpad myself, but i haven't been able to find anything. however, i have never used wattpad as medium, so i'm not really sure how it works, etc. if any readers would be so kind to send me a message linking me to such a fic, i would really appreciate it.
also, the review was left for the second chapter, so the anonymous review may have been talking about that or the fic as a whole.
It was strange. Before, Tsukiyama would always huff the handkerchief stained with Kaneki's blood and imagine only him; Kaneki and Kaneki alone. His fantasies of him ranged from just the boy sprawled out on a bed — face flushed and eyes moist, looking deliciously submissive — to him battered and bloody, limbs missing, being chewed apart by some invisible force. This was different. This time, not only was his fantasy of Kaneki, but, well—
Himself included.
Tsukiyama closed his eyes, his breath steady as he ran his hand along his length, his jacket and undershirt thrown neatly into a corner of the room. His mind presents him with a clear picture of Kaneki naked, on his own bed, touching himself much the same way Tsukiyama was. The grip Kaneki had around himself tightened and precum drips down his knuckles. Pale, pink lips exhales a shaky "Tsukiyama-san…"
It was impossible, Tsukiyama knew that already. He was fully aware how implausible it was that Kaneki would ever pleasure himself to the image of him. Yet, it was still fun to pretend.
Kaneki was imagining Tsukiyama on top of him, thrusting into him slowly, but firmly. Tsukiyama once fantasized about that too, so in a way he supposed he was indirectly fantasizing about having sex with Kaneki. It was weird, imagining somebody imagining him, but it somehow it made it more exciting.
Kaneki's strokes were off-rhythm with the speed he was imagining Tsukiyama screwing him. He was hasty, too excited, and just wanted it to be over with. Tsukiyama, on the other hand, stroked himself just as slow, he usually did. While he enjoyed fast-pace excitement every so often, it was nice to take his time and let all the pleasure course through him.
Tsukiyama knew what Kaneki's hands felt like. They were soft and had the slightest callus. While his hands were just as soft, he moisturized every day, so there wasn't even a bit of imperfection amongst his fingers. Despite that, he wondered if callus would feel better. Hands with a slight roughness to them, stroking and gripping. He would like to feel those hands on him some day, he decided, but he wouldn't count on it.
In his mind, in Kaneki's mind, Tsukiyama was close to finishing, which meant Kaneki was too. His hand gripped tighter, strokes become more erratic, he writhed in his bedsheets. In a matter of seconds, his back arched and a moan with a cracking voice escaped him:
"Tsu - Tsukiyama-san!"
He imagined that Kaneki imagined that he came deep inside him, so much inside him that the sticky fluid fills him and overflows, dripped onto the mattress. Kaneki had a white trail that reached up his chest, and he slumped back into the bed, panting.
"Ah, Kaneki-kun!" Tsukiyama finally whimpered, giving in to the image his mind produced, his own semen splattering onto his bed and even onto his chest.
It had been a while since he came that hard and so quickly. He pressed the kerchief to his nose and inhaled deeply.