ft. different variations of kaneki throughout his character arcs
note: alternatively, this can be considered a very explicit character study of kaneki.
author’s note: this fanfiction will contain mature content, including explicit sexual acts, mentions of trauma, some overstimulation, and similar themes.
please read at your own discretion.
kaneki ken, the college student, is a shy, flustered mess. whenever you speak, his cheeks are dusted with a warm, rosy hue. despite him anxiously tripping over his own words, he still manages to maintain a contagious smile, beaming brighter than the sun.
when the topic of sex is brought up, kaneki’s eyes instantly widen, his expression much too easy to read as the reddening of his cheeks deepens in colour. he’s surprised—surprised you want to do this at all, but even more so that you want to do this with him.
after all, the day he first laid eyes on you was the day he decided you were out of his league.
kaneki is anxious—terrified, even—at the prospect of having sex with you. simultaneously, however, he is ecstatic. he is absolutely delighted knowing that he gets to engage in such an intimate, sensual act with you.
when you tug on kaneki’s shirt and he realizes he should undress himself, he can’t help but feel a pang of insecurity. but when your hands are on his bare skin and you’re murmuring compliments in his ear, telling him words that make his heart swell and blossom, any worries he harbours will dissipate.
he asks for your explicit permission before doing anything. even just small touches, featherlight brushes of his fingers against your skin, are only done after you tell him that it’s okay.
kaneki is very sensitive and extremely vocal. as soon as your fingers wrap around him, he’s gasping, his breath hitching, small whimpers leaving his lips. he’ll bite down on his bottom lip to stop the embarrassing sounds from coming out, but it’s not long before his mind becomes hazy and he loses any semblance of self restraint, long, needy whines leaving his lips.
despite his inexperience, he’s eager to please, be it with his fingers or mouth. his movements are clumsy to begin with but he’s a quick leaner—he’ll pay close attention to your reactions and adjust accordingly for what makes you feel best.
when he enters you as last, he sharply inhales, and his breath is quivering as he tries to steady himself. his movements are slow and timid, his focus entirely on your pleasure rather than his. not that he needs to pay attention to the euphoria that flows through his veins; if anything, he fears if he lets himself enjoy it too much, he won’t last. and he desperately wants to make sure you finish before him. he needs to ensure you feel good. he doesn’t want to disappoint.
but all the nerves in his body are being set ablaze, his mind flooding with pleasure as he cries out your name. his eyes squeeze shut for a brief second as he reaches his climax, his hands trembling all the while. apologies quickly spill from his lips, the temperature in his cheeks reaching a boiling point as he frantically tries to make up for finishing so soon.
when the both of you are satiated, he’s relieved, thanking whatever gods are out there that he was able to fix his blunder. but more than that, he’s hopelessly, pitifully infatuated with you, the adoration visible in his eyes as he whispers breathless professions of his love.
kaneki ken, the centipede, is a broken, empty husk of the man he used to be. his mind has frayed and fractured from the suffering he endured at yamori’s hands. long gone is the warmth that he used to exude as a human and in his early days as a half-ghoul. in its place is a tormented soul whose last remnants of sanity are held together by threads.
but the affection he holds for you remains. his feelings for you are so deeply embedded into his heart; they are what he clings onto during the endless nights of excruciation, the only thought keeping his mind from deteriorating as he chants the ceaseless string of forsaken numbers.
it isn’t the same, though. what was once pure and untainted has now become something darker, something warped. his attachment to you is no longer rooted in innocence and hope, but rather obsession—a sick yearning.
no, kaneki doesn’t just want you; he needs you. and that’s what he tells you, his eyes wide with lunacy as his hands grasp at you with bruising force. he clutches onto you like a lifeline. in his maddened eyes, that’s what you are.
he has nothing else to soothe him after he wakes up from the nightmares that frequently haunt him. there’s no one else he can find solace in when his eyes snap open, a thin layer of sweat soaking through the fabric of his clothes, besides you. you, who peels away the matted strands of hair stuck to his forehead. you, who dries away the dampness on his forehead. you, who coddles him and caresses his hair, whispering words of comfort in his ear. words that never reach him, as the sound of rushing blood and thundering claps of his heartbeat ring in his ears, as the mocking whispers and taunts in his mind fill up his entire head.
in moments like this, all he wants is to crawl inside of your chest, to nestle himself within the confines of your ribcage and to seek refuge in your heart. but that’s not possible, so he settles for being as physically close to you as possible.
his hands are all over you, running along every arch and ridge with the intent to memorize them. to sear the sensation of your flesh underneath his fingers into his mind, to eternally etch the softness of your body into his brain.
he prepares you with his fingers, and his movements, albeit hasty, are precise. he curls his fingers into you at just the right angle, tips of his fingers brushing against the sweetest of spots as his thumb rubs delightful circles around your clit.
kaneki thrusts into you with reckless abandon, his newfound strength and stamina unrelenting as he buries himself inside you, bottoming out with each frantic slam of his hips. all he can think about is how he needs to feel closer to you, how he needs to be deeper in you, how he needs to possess every inch of you, inside and out.
although he’s desperately chasing his own high, his body far outlasts yours, and the ruthless rhythm he maintains is quick to bring you to orgasm. he can feel your walls tighten and spasm around him, he can hear the way you cry out his name, but he doesn’t stop or slow his pace. he’s yet to climax, and even if that wasn’t the case, he yearns to drag out each melodious sound from your throat. he longs to brand the sound of your voice—the catharsis of his name on your lips—into his eardrums forever.
in the darkness of the room, the two of you are all that exists, fingers interlaced with one another’s and bodies tangled in coalescence.
prisoner 240, the amnesiac, is lost amidst a sea of memories that doesn’t belong to him. he doesn’t know what they are, he just knows that the blurry events and the emotions they evoke plague him at night. the dreams are endless, constantly drowning him in a distant yet intimate feeling of anguish. they could be recollections, but they aren’t his. nothing is his. not the thin fabric draped over him nor the four walls surrounding him; a cell he doesn’t know how he ended up in.
so, when you tell him that he can have you—that you’re willing to be his—he can only accuse you of lying to him. because it’s too good to be true; it’s not possible for someone as kind and beautiful as you to love a monster like him. he fights it, but each refusal of acceptance he utters is only a mask covering his true intent of seeking more reassurance from you.
and reassurance is what you give, wrapping his trembling body up in your arms, holding him in an embrace that he doesn’t think he’s worthy of. but with each doting whisper and comforting caress, his body melts into yours and his tears begin to dry.
prisoner 240 is sensitive, painfully so. he’s starved of touch, yet at the same time traumatized by rougher hands that brought him nothing but pain. he craves physical contact as much as he’s afraid of it, but his desires overshadow his fear by a fraction of a percentage as he allows you to undress him.
he wants to see you, touch you, have your body in ways that make him feel ashamed and guilty, but he dares not ask. he’s undeserving of such tenderness and affection. yet you look at him with such sincerity that he can’t help but swallow his own shame, pushing his reservations to the back of his mind and selfishly indulging in the gentleness of your touch.
at first, he’s busy trying his best to stop himself from instinctively flinching, but once his body relaxes, he’s all whimpers and whines and meek, timid pleas for you to continue. he quivers at the sensation of your fingers wrapping around his length, his erection twitching pitifully as you stroke him, heat searing his skin and electrifying each one of his neglected nerves.
he gasps as he enters you—you’re warm in a way he’s not sure he could ever get used to, your walls squeezing around him in a way that wrings a cry of delight from his lips. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, both out of embarrassment and because he wants to be close to you, wants you to hold and cherish him.
his hips rock against yours softly, his movements gentle and uncertain. despite how much his brain is flooded with euphoria, he’s using every ounce of control to ensure you feel good; he wants to return even a fraction of the pleasure you give to him.
when he orgasms, he’s calling out your name with an utmost angelical voice, his body stiffening as he permits himself to be completely unravelled by you.
after his climax, he’s quiet, save for the hot, heavy breaths that leave his parted lips. he basks in the afterglow of the act with you, before eventually, he tentatively asks if this was okay.
when you tell prisoner 240 he did good, his smile lights up the entire room, no matter how dense the darkness that envelops you both.
haise sasaki, the ghoul investigator, is never truly emotionally present. he’s kind, gentle, and affectionate. but he always pauses before he can utter the word ‘love,’ as if he’s afraid of the very syllable itself. you think some part of him is missing, an invisible wall dividing him apart from himself, a piece of him kept at a distance and hidden away from the world.
haise thinks so, too.
in fact, he knows so—there’s a portion of his mind that doesn’t belong to him. there’s a section in his head that’s inhabited by another person, another individual. someone he’s scared of letting out, someone he worries will devour him whole. someone he fears is all too much him, more him than he’ll ever be.
and there’s a fragment of his heart that beats with so much raw emotion, it threatens to overtake all the flimsy, superficial connections he’s made.
but he doesn’t want to lose this, not quite yet. so he keeps you at arm’s length; just close enough to have you, but not enough for you to have him. he cares for you with his half of the heart, the half of the organ that obeys him.
haise doesn’t commit. it’s no strings attached, no true intimacy, only quick exchanges of your body against his in the small, impermanent space of a hotel room.
his touch is gentle but firm, exploring your body with warm, calloused hands. he kisses you with hunger, his lips deftly moving against yours and your tongues locked in a dance which he performs with practiced ease.
it’s terrifying how little he resembles the person he used to be, the one locked away in the back of his mind.
haise will sink his head between your legs and lap away at your core, sucking on the sensitive bud before delving into your folds, pushing his tongue up your dripping hole. he enjoys tasting you more than anything else; nothing compares to the pleasure of having your thighs wrapped around his head and your juices running down his chin. it’s heavenly, he thinks, unable to get enough of your nectar, your fluids tasting so delectable on his tongue.
and the sounds you make—he longs to hear more, craves to keep hearing you moan out his name like it’s the only thing you know.
haise is vocal, but everything about him is more controlled, from the steady pace he thrusts at to the soft moans and gasps of pleasure that emits from his vocal cords. he presses his lips to your neck, peppers your throat with kisses as he continues fucking you at a comfortable speed, not too fast or too slow, all the while he mumbles earnestly about how good you feel.
you can tell he’s getting close when the tightly wound restraint he constantly holds dear begins to slip, his hips snapping against yours at an accelerating pace, and he brings a hand down to the crux where your bodies converge to rub at your clit. he makes sure to bring you to orgasm first, letting your sounds of fervour unravel the last of his control as he groans loudly, burying his face in your neck.
haise’s always there for you when you come down from your high, stroking your hair and whispering words of praise as he catches his own breath. he’s tender and caring as he cleans you up, basking in the weighted silence encapsulating the room. he’s almost loving, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek before you part ways for the night.
it’s not enough, but it’s everything that he, haise sasaki, has.
kaneki ken, the black reaper, is a man who puts up walls of harsh, unforgiving defences. he’s cold and closed off, not letting anyone in behind the barrier he built. but even the sturdiest walls aren’t impenetrable, and there are still moments where his barricade cracks ever so slightly.
that is not to say you are able to push past his fortifications entirely—no one is capable of that—but your persistent company has chipped away and nestled itself into the small crevices of his guard. it’s infuriating, how much you affect him, how he finds himself slowly but surely growing fond of your presence and eventually your touch.
your encounters always start the same, with you initiating contact and asking to meet when you know he’s just finished a long day of work. his job is draining, leaving him fatigued and much in need of stress relief. you’re what he considers a distraction, but he agrees to your request nonetheless, telling himself it’s insignificant. but kaneki’s never been one to do meaningless exchanges, and him entertaining this at all implies more than he’s ready to admit.
kaneki’s sitting on the edge of the flawlessly made bed with crisp white sheets when you arrive at the hotel room. he doesn’t do much to greet you, simply muttering a quiet but firm request for you to come. you do as instructed, walking over to the bed with your usual joke about how he’s always so unfriendly.
he’ll tug you down onto his lap in one sharp pull, causing you to stumble. you don’t have the opportunity to protest; any sound you make is quickly muffled by his lips crashing against yours, his hand in your hair and the other holding your waist. the movement of his lips is methodical and detached. despite the searing warmth of his mouth—all liquid embers and velvet flames—he’s so, so cold.
knees, he’ll murmur; a selfish request for you to please him. you oblige, dropping down and undoing his pants. kaneki isn’t hasty or aggressive; he allows you to go at your own pace, save for if you’re teasing, in which case the hand he has in your hair tightens ever so slightly as a warning. as you take him into your mouth, tongue lapping and swirling around his tip, you’re rewarded with the sight of his head tilted back, cheeks flushed, uneven breaths leaving his parted lips. it’s the most vulnerable you’ll ever see of him, because that moment lasts for only so long before he pulls you off his length and bends you over the bed.
he’ll harshly shove two fingers inside you, but any complaints you have wither away as soon as the heel of his palm grinds against your clit. his movements are rough, but he’s not in any actual rush. he takes his time thoroughly preparing you until your cunt is drooling and your climax is near. he doesn’t let you finish—he never does—and instead retrieves his fingers, your denied orgasm and the sudden emptiness leaving you needy and whining for more.
when kaneki enters you at last, he stills for a moment to let you adjust. once you do, the rhythm he sets is fast and unrelenting. he’s fucking into you from behind, his hips colliding against yours in harsh snaps, the sound of skin slapping against skin a backdrop to the chorus of your moans and the ragged breaths he lets out. his hand is reaching between your legs, fingers expertly toying with the bundle of nerves in a way that quickly brings you to orgasm. if you finish before him—which you often do—he’ll slow his pace for a brief moment to let you catch your breath, before he returns to his unyielding pace.
you’re not done until he is—something he’s made clear by now. it doesn’t matter if you’re already a mess and too sensitive, he’ll simply reply saying that you can handle it.
when he finishes, it’s with the same loud moan, albeit stifled, his body shuddering in pleasure as he comes to a halt. the room is silent, save for heavy gasps and pants as you both greedily take in oxygen. it’s a while until he finally pulls out, but then he’s quick to clean you up. neither of you talk; the room is choked in a tender silence as he wipes you down in a manner that feels far more intimate, far more personal than he’d like.
he ignores it. instead, he lets his gaze linger on you for a few moments, his eyes searching you. it’s evident there’s something on his mind, but neither of you truly know what it is.
no more words are exchanged for the night—he redresses himself, and he’s gone, leaving you uncertain as to if he’ll come back.
he doesn’t admit it, not even to himself—but deep down, kaneki knows he’ll return.
kaneki ken, the one-eyed king, is a culmination of all his past experiences. he’s matured and grown, many aspects of his personality having gone through metamorphosis. but what has always been here and still remains is the caring self so deeply embedded in his nature. despite the suffering he’s endured, all the grief he’s gone through—he’s still willing to care for others. he’s still willing to open his heart for you.
kaneki doesn’t have all the nervous anxiety that bubbles up at the thought of having sex with you, but without the coldness masking his demeanour, he’s much less restrained, allowing the butterflies in his stomach to freely flap their wings. his characteristic shyness is apparent, his cheeks visibly flushing as he undresses, but you can tell by his soft smile that it’s excitement rather than unease.
he takes his time thoroughly savouring you, preparing you with both his mouth and fingers. he’s quiet as he laps at your core, his fingers simultaneously pushing up against that sweet spot nestled within your inner walls. he’ll pause briefly to ask if it feels okay, and when you nod, smiling at him as feverish words of encouragement leave your lips, he can only beam in return. pink dusts his cheeks like the fallen petals of cherry blossoms.
if you offer to return the favour, he’ll nod, quietly accepting your offer. he prefers to lay on the bed so that you can get comfortable too, rather than having you on your knees. he doesn’t hold back, not like this, letting out breathy moans and sighs of pleasure as you wrap your lips around him. all the while, he reaches to your face and brushes your hair out of your eyes so that he can see your pretty face better. he gazes at you so lovingly, as though you’re the only one in this whole entire universe for him. and you are.
when he finally enters you, it’s with your legs wrapped around both sides of his waist. he holds himself up, but leans down often to capture your lips with his. while his kisses are gentle, they’re hungry. you can taste the need as your mouths melt together, a coalescence of unadulterated passion.
the pace he sets is slow in the beginning, but soon becomes something more ardent, his hips meeting yours fervently with each hitching breath and guttural groan. hot, panting gasps of air are taken each time your lips break apart, a string of saliva connecting the both of you still, only broken by the next time his mouth finds yours.
he waits for your release first, allowing it to trigger his own. the feeling of your insides clenching and spasming around his length never fails to bring him to the edge himself, and he finishes in you soon after. it’s your name that he calls as he climaxes—an angelic cry of ecstasy, a confirmation of his devotion.
kaneki takes a minute to catch his breath, before he climbs off you, laying down beside you and pulling you close to his chest. his lips are on your neck, pressing soft kisses from your jugular to your shoulder blades as he cradles you close. as the afterglow settles, your breathing gradually returning to normal, he murmurs of his love for you, a hushed whisper like a confession of sin. it’s anything but—his feelings for you are a source of comfort for him. he’s thankful to experience such a beautiful connection with you. he’s grateful for your presence, and he tells you so, before eventually getting up, carrying you to the shower with him.
he takes the time and affectionately lathers you up with soap, his calloused hands caressing your skin with such tenderness that it makes you shiver despite the hot water cascading over the both of you. as the two of you clean away the aftermath of your intimacy, your skin against his, he finds himself thinking that it’s not about you completing him.
instead, with you, kaneki feels like he could be a whole person on his own. no longer does he feel the hollow ache of a void in his soul; instead, he’s fulfilled and content. he knows he’ll do anything to ensure you are, too.
kaneki brushes his lips over yours, sealing an unspoken promise.
if you enjoy my writing, please consider reblogging; i really appreciate the interactions.
thank you everyone for reading and supporting my work! (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡
Warnings: Lots of talk about piercings, kissing, descriptions of penetration and giving/receiving oral, biting, other smutty things, a lil blood, some fluffy stuff (not proofread!!)
First off, Uta definitely loves teasing you in every and any way possible. He definitely acts like he didn’t do anything, too.
He always somehow has a new tattoo to show you, or new piercings. Even temporary piercings that are just for looks for a bit, so he can show you.
When you kiss you always feel his lip piercing press against your own. It sometimes is rather cold, and it definitely increases your pleasure in other departments.
He loves pleasuring you with his mouth, it could be something to do with the fact he’s a ghoul, but he likes to say he just adores your taste.
He definitely gets a tongue piercing and gets those vibrating ones. He likes to stick it right against you, holding your hips down. He’s rather strong, considering things…
He has a Jacob’s ladder for sure, he has about three? And he loves when you lick around it and just have it pressing against your tongue. He grips your hair lazily and sometimes even reads some of his orders while you’re down in between his legs.
He likes to sew you little plushes of your favorite animal and gives it a piercing or too so it reminds you of him. Sometimes he gets very busy with clients so he makes sure they smell like him too so you don’t get too lonely without him.
When he pushes into you, you can always feel the Jacob’s ladder squishing against your walls. It causes you to squirm around often, so he holds you down and will bite at your neck to try and keep you from moving too much.
He asks you to change his piercings for him just to see you concentrate so much, trying not to hurt him.
Back to the vibrating tongue ring he loves to tease your chest with it!!! He’s soo gentle but so mean at the same time. He likes to overstimulate you, and make you finish at least a few times without any type of stimulation below your waist.
He tries to get you to let him give you piercings. He might just want to see you bleed a little though… He thinks the idea of you with a tongue piercing around his dick, on top of his own piercings there would feel like a dream!!!
If you already have piercings he loves it so much, still tries to give you more though… He likes to find you jewelry to match his, be it color or certain shapes.
the sun will always rise again [kaneki ken x reader]
In an alternate timeline where despite his defeat by Arima, Kaneki retains his memories, and during his imprisonment in Cochlea, meets you instead.
author's note: this fanfiction will contain mature content, including explicit sexual acts, kidnapping, mentions of violence, and similar themes.
additional notes: this was supposed to be a yandere (prisoner 240) kaneki x reader but he turned out extremely soft. warning you right now that this is also the least sexy smut i’ve ever written and kaneki just cries for the vast majority of it. sorry in advance tehe...
please read at your own discretion.
this work has not yet been proofread.
Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.
Those words were the ones that resonated the hardest with Kaneki when he read Les Misérables, the book you lent him. After all, the nights in his cell were long, cold, and lonely. And so, to him, you were like the rising sun; the first ray of light to grace his eyes when he woke up the next day. The beam of luminescence that shone through the dense, smothering darkness shrouding his days.
Prisoner 240 was what the wardens and investigators stopping by would refer to him as. It was as if his name was forgotten, his identity erased and reduced to mere numbers. He couldn’t help but wonder if that was all he would be remembered as, when he eventually dies in this desolate, forsaken place. If he was even remembered at all, that is. More likely than not, he would just be a case file stored away in the vast archive of the CCG. And all that would remain of him—the fact that he ever existed—would be old, yellowing documents.
As time passed, Kaneki slowly began to accept that would be the harsh reality he’d endure. The bleakness of his situation and the grief weighing heavily on his heart were the source of many sleepless nights, ones where he’d ceaselessly cry, lamenting the tragedy that was his life. His eyes were not only irritated but also beginning to show signs of infection from all the scratching and rubbing he’d uncontrollably inflict. Any food that was brought to him was left untouched. He simply didn’t have an appetite. Eventually, the hunger settled into a dull ache accompanied by nausea, and he could feel his body begin to weaken, the mere act of standing up becoming straining.
“Kaneki?” It had been so long since he heard the sound of his own name, he almost didn’t recognize that you were speaking to him. It was only when you repeated his name a second time that he tentatively turned his head towards the source of the unfamiliar voice.
He momentarily felt disappointed when he couldn’t see anyone, only the heavy steel door that served to confine him. He felt foolish for thinking he would see anyone inside; the door hadn’t been opened since he arrived. Any conversations—or rather, interrogations—took place with the door in between, and any food was brought through the flap at the bottom of the door.
But then he saw the top of your head, your eyes peeking at him through the small windowpane, the knuckles of your hand softly rapping against the reinforced glass.
“Can I come in?” you asked.
He agreed.
—
Kaneki quickly learned your name. He learned that you weren’t an investigator, but rather a newly hired staff member to assist in rehabilitation. Almost like a therapist, you had explained with a soft laugh. He learned that he appreciated the sound of your laughter, the tune of your voice. It was the closest thing to music that he could hear.
He learned that you, too, liked to read. Upon the mention of literature and discovering his interest, you offered to lend him some of your books. It was the only thing someone had provided him since he was brought here, excluding the food that he didn’t have an appetite for.
“I want you to eat, though,” you had insisted. “You can’t read anything if you starve yourself to death.”
He ate. He slowly regained his strength, your company motivating him to continue getting through the days. Continue surviving in this world.
He didn’t have the ability to keep track of time, but he learned that you visited him every day in the morning, not long after he would wake up. This quickly became a routine that he would look forward to, the only thoughts on his mind before he fell asleep being ones of seeing you the next day.
It was far too late for Kaneki when he realized what he felt for you was more than just appreciation and gratefulness. More than just platonic admiration and enjoyment of mutual, shared interests. More than even just a crush; the budding blossoms of childlike adoration having already bloomed into a garden of unadulterated infatuation.
By the time he learned of his own emotions, he had already sunken too deep, drowning in a sea of longing and desire for you. Perhaps it would’ve been more accurate to describe it as quicksand—any attempts at barricading his feelings or struggling against them only served to further strengthen them. The more he thought about you, the more he thought about how he shouldn’t want you, the more he found himself miserably flailing in a bottomless pit of coveting.
“Kaneki.” You were sitting on his bed as you spoke. There wasn’t much furniture in his room, so during your interactions, you preferred to just sit on his bed. It’s not exactly professional, you had told him the first time you kicked off your shoes, sitting cross-legged on his mattress. But I don’t like to stand, and I doubt they’ll bother me about it too much, as long as I’m still doing my job. “Have you figured out what you want to do yet?”
He had been standing next to the bed as he always did. Despite the overwhelming urge to get closer to you, to sit next to you, he always held himself back. You were just doing your job, after all. While you were kind to him, it was impossible that you would genuinely care for him.
For even if only partially, he was still a ghoul.
He knew what you were referring to; you had mentioned that the CCG would like for him to join them as an investigator. It was something he was extremely reluctant about. While he didn’t inherently disagree with the CCG’s existence, he struggled with the idea of having to turn against his friends, the place he once thought of as ‘home.’ To some extent, he still considered it that, but he wasn’t sure how much of it was even left. It was a thought he tried his best not to dwell on.
While joining the CCG itself was a conflicting choice to make, there was something else that he couldn’t help but wonder, ever since you mentioned the subject.
What would happen to us?
How ludicrous of him; he was nothing but a patient to you. He couldn’t—shouldn’t—be thinking of more. The mere notion of having anything with you was something forbidden, something sinful.
And yet, simply conceptualizing his days without your company was enough to overwhelm him with a debilitating fear.
The question had been plaguing his mind ever since you first mentioned the subject. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, the constant terror of losing you was gnawing away at the recesses of his sick, twisted mind.
It seemed as though he wasn’t the sole person feeling unsettled. As you waited for his answer, he noticed the way your gaze was more intently fixated on him than usual, the way your fingernails were anxiously picking at the skin around your thumbs.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, though as much as he should’ve, he wasn’t expecting the answer you gave him.
“You need to join them.” Your voice was low and tense, almost as if you were afraid of the words themselves. As you spoke, you averted your gaze, a visible frown forming on your usually cheerful face. “They’re getting impatient. I’ve been trying to buy you more time, but if they deem you to be useless, then...”
He didn’t need you to finish your sentence to know what you were referring to. He should’ve seen it coming, but he was too distracted by you. He foolishly blinded himself with your light, temporarily forgetting the darkness he resided in.
“What happens to us?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He internally cursed himself for daring to ask such a thing. He had no right.
Still, the words had been said, and all he could do was wait for your response, the individual seconds seeming to stretch on for an eternity each.
“We might pass by each other in the offices, but other than that, I doubt we’ll be interacting much.” Your words were nothing short of dreadful to him, and he didn’t want to hear the rest of what you had to say, but he had no choice. “My work with you will be considered ‘concluded,’ and they’ll assign me another person to work with. I suppose we could speak outside of work hours, but I don’t really know enough about investigative work to say for sure. From what I’ve observed, the investigators seem pretty preoccupied with their work, and their hours seem different from mine, too... Ah, sorry for rambling,” you said with a soft laugh. What once was a pleasant melody to him now only served to increase his torment as he realized even that was being taken away from him.
The reason for him to wake up every morning. The peace he needed to fall asleep each evening. The sole ray of sunshine to grace his days of somber solitude.
Without the sun to rise back up again, would he be plunged back into the abyss?
No, he couldn’t accept that. He couldn’t accept losing the comfort of your company, he couldn’t accept losing the warmth of your smile, the chime of your laugh. He had already experienced the way the other investigators treated him, the way they looked at him. He knew what they thought of him, and he knew their opinions would never change.
You were the only one to treat him like a person. He had lost enough in his life. He couldn’t lose this—he couldn’t lose you, too.
“No,” he whispered, his body riddled with terror. “No, you can’t—”
“I’m sorry, Kaneki,” you sighed, glancing at him with a wistful smile. “I don’t have much of a say in this.”
“No,” his voice was louder this time, though you were clearly able to hear the trembling in his pitch as he spoke, for your eyes widened in surprise. And in contrast to the way his hands were shaking, his mind was made up and unwavering. “I’m sorry.”
—
Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.
That’s what Kaneki kept telling himself, repeating the words over and over in his head like a mantra. But even the sun, as majestic and benevolent as it was, was bound to burn out one day. Scientists estimated that the sun would die in about five billion years, but it felt as if the rays of light engulfing his world had already perished.
Despite the dim, dingy atmosphere in his cell, your smile had always been enough to light up the small room. Now, with the sun having set into the clouds, the sky’s vermillion tint being stained by darkness, would your presence still provide the same glowing luminescence that it used to?
Kaneki couldn’t help but ponder that question, ruminating over it again and again as he gently laid you on his bed, careful not to wake you. As much as he wanted to deny it, as much as he wanted to convince himself otherwise, all the thinking he did only brought him back to one conclusion—sunlight would no longer reach his world.
And it’s all your fault, his own mind told him. You ruined everything. Because you’re selfish. Because you’re weak. Because you’re a coward.
No, he furiously shook his head, as if trying to physically expel those thoughts from his own mind. It’s not my fault, it’s not my fault... I did what I had to do! I had no other choice!
As he finished dusting off the last of the furniture in his bedroom, he glanced up towards you. You were still asleep, your expression eerily peaceful as you rested. Almost as if this was just another evening for you. As if you were just sleeping at home. As if he hadn’t rendered you unconscious and escaped Cochlea, bringing your inanimate body back to his former apartment—an abandoned and dilapidated space.
Upon seeing the serenity displayed over your features, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt, the doubts in his mind getting louder. You’ll never see her like that again, he unwittingly told himself.
Next time she looks at you, she’ll see you for what you really are—
As soon as that thought came to his mind, he could feel his chest being set ablaze, his ribcage serving as firewood for the flames that licked at the cavity of his heart. Similar to the sensation of smoke clogging up his lungs caused the mere act of breathing to become difficult. Kaneki grasped at his own chest. The thought of digging it inside out tempted him, though he knew his efforts would be fruitless. Instead, he desperately clasped his hands over his own ears in a futile attempt to shut out his own thoughts.
No. I’m not a monster!
“—’m not, I’m not—” His words were barely coherent; a string of frantic mumbles spilling past his lips in between trembling breaths and violent gasps. The tears welling up in his eyes distorted his vision, though he paid no mind. Instead, his focus was on repeating the same phrase, as if each utterance of the statement would make it more true. “—not a monster, not a monster, not a monster—”
Then, what do you think she’ll see you as? Do you truly believe she’ll think of you the same way?
Kaneki’s hands shook incessantly, the grip of his fingers tightening as he fought to silence his own mind. Though the tears finally escaped past his waterline and splashed down his pale cheeks, his sight remained a blur, newborn teardrops continuing to glaze over his eyes as he vehemently sobbed.
“E-Even the darkest night will end,” he wheezed, the words barely able to make it past the hard lump that had formed at the back of his throat. His hands instinctively went to his eyes, harshly and hastily wiping away the tears that had left streaks down the sides of his cheeks. He forcefully rubbed at them, though the same instant he did so, the memory of all the times you comforted him—helping him calm his tears—instantly struck him, alongside the knowledge that he would likely never experience that again.
And it was all his fault.
The same phrase from the book you initially lent him was now being chanted much like a prayer, though he wasn’t sure what he was praying for, or to whom. “—and the sun will rise. Even the darkest night—”
“Kaneki?” As soon as he heard your voice, he froze. He wanted to explain himself, he wanted to beg for your forgiveness, he wanted to— “Why are you crying?”
Reminiscent of the first time you had called his name, the words once again almost failed to register. But as the seconds passed, and he finally consciously recognized what you were saying, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope reigniting in his chest.
Foolish, he could hear his own thoughts reverberate within the chamber of his mind. She just woke up; she clearly hasn’t realized what you’ve done. But when she does...
A fresh wave of terror washed over Kaneki’s body, the blood in his veins seemingly having turned to ice. For a moment, all he could hear was the throbbing of his own pulse, each beat seeming to send ripples through his skull. The tightness in his chest appeared to worsen, almost as if his body was a wet rag being twisted in someone’s fists. Despite his inability to form coherent sentences or will his body to move, the tears in his eyes never stopped their cascading, small puddles forming on the floor directly below his chin, where fresh droplets would splash against.
His body quaked with each sob, trembling as if the weight of his wrongdoings was simply too much to hold up.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” you asked, prompting Kaneki to finally raise his head and look directly at you. He could see you rubbing your eyelids as you propped yourself up into a sitting position, and he could see the way your gaze quickly scanned the room you were in. You definitely had realized what had happened now, and any concern you had for him was surely gone.
He wasn’t far from you—just a few feet away from the bed, a distance which he hurried to close without thinking, stumbling forward to wrap his arms around your body. His knees harshly collided against the floor as he knelt by the bed, his face buried in your sternum as he desperately clung onto you.
The words came out rushed and unfiltered as he babbled; a coalescence of anguished pleas and tormented wails.
“I’m sorry!” With his lips barely a centimetre away from the fabric of your clothes, his voice was relatively muffled, making it harder to distinguish his already garbled speech. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry! Please—” Forgive me, he wanted to say. But did he even have the right to ask for something like that? Kaneki quickly discarded the thought, taking in a sharp, quivering inhale as he started a different sentence instead. “I know what I did was wrong. I know I shouldn’t have, but... I was just so scared. I was afraid I’d lose you—”
When Kaneki felt you shifting your arm, trying to tug it out of his grip, he knew he had both irrevocably and irreparably fucked up. His grip around you loosened for a moment, the overwhelming feeling of defeat causing him to second guess himself. Maybe this wasn’t the right decision. Maybe he should’ve just suppressed his urges. He would still be able to see you around the workplace, even if it wasn’t often. He would still be able to enjoy your company, even if you never returned the extent of his feelings.
Maybe then, the sun would still rise.
“The foolish Icarus forsook his guide,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, “and, bold in vanity, began to soar, rising upon his wings to touch the skies.” Another strangled sob left his vocal cords, the following lines playing through his head. But as he neared the scorching sun, its heat softened the fragrant wax that held his plumes; and heat increasingly melted the soft wax—he waved his naked arms instead of wings, with no more feathers to sustain his flight.
“Where are you?” you mumbled, your arm slipping out from his weakened grip. “In what place shall I seek you, Icarus?”
Kaneki was still registering your words when he felt a light touch to the back of his head, the sensation instantly causing his body to tense. Of course, you couldn’t actually inflict any harm on him, but the unforeseen action still startled him. He couldn’t tell what you were doing or why you were doing it, something that made him both anxious and hopeful.
As pathetic and unrealistic as it was, he couldn’t help but hope that maybe the fact that you hadn’t pulled away yet or screamed at him meant that you wouldn’t reject him.
So, when your palm and fingers lightly smoothed down the back of his hair, not just once, but twice, three times, and continuing—the embers of yearning only intensified, his impious desires burning bright like his shame.
“There’s nothing for you to be scared of.” Your voice was so gentle, so soothing, that he could only think of one thing. I must be hallucinating. “You aren’t losing me. I’m not going anywhere.”
For a brief moment, Kaneki was rendered speechless. Everything you had just said was everything he wanted to hear, so much so that he couldn’t bring himself to believe it.
“But I—” he stammered, struggling to finish his sentence, “I—” He knew very well what he did. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to say his actions out loud, for if he didn’t, it would be easier to pretend otherwise. Though, he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince you, or himself.
“—It’s okay,” you interrupted him, saving him from the need to finish his sentence. “I understand. I’m not upset at you.”
“You’re lying!” Kaneki shouted, his arms wrapped around you tensing with his sudden agitation. “You’re... You’re just saying that. You don’t mean it!”
He noticed the way you flinched at the sudden raise of his voice and the guilt came flooding back, as if someone had directly injected it into his bloodstream. He hadn’t meant to scare you; that was the last thing he wanted to do. As much as he coveted your acceptance and affection, he simultaneously feared it. If something seemed too good to be true, then it usually was. That lesson had cost him a lot to learn.
Despite knowing that it would be far more reasonable to doubt your words, Kaneki so desperately wanted to believe them. He wanted to believe that—even for a second—he could be forgiven. He could be cared for. He could be loved.
What a pitiful creature he was.
“I’m sorry,” And so the apologies came spilling again, a deluge of miserable excuses rushing past his lips. “I didn’t mean to scare you... I didn’t mean to...” His voice came out feeble and small, the continuous watering of his eyes sure to have soaked through the fabric of your top by now.
“This isn’t what I wanted... I just wanted to be with you. I just wanted us to be happy together. I know it’s wrong, but,” he sniffled as he lamented away, “but you’re all I have! What else was I supposed to do?”
His voice was strained with despair as he wailed, his weeping becoming louder while his breathing quickened, growing frantic as he felt that oxygen was no longer reaching his lungs. In between panicked inhales, he managed to choke out the words, “I’m so sorry...”
“It’s okay, Kaneki,” you whispered, the rhythmic feeling of your fingers stroking his hair continuing to repeat as you spoke. “Try to steady your breathing—everything is okay.”
Your words were so reassuring, so much of everything that he had ever hoped for, that he couldn’t help but seek for more.
“No, that’s not true,” he protested, wanting nothing more than to receive more validation from you. You should be ashamed of yourself, his mind said. And he was; he was deeply ashamed. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to act otherwise. Weak, his own voice replied, you can’t control your own impulses. And look what happened. “You... You really just hate me, don’t you?”
“And why would I hate you?” What left your lips was a question, but you surely knew the answer. Were you just trying to make him say it? Force him to admit what he had done wrong? Perhaps you were punishing him. But he deserved it, didn’t he?
“Because—” he croaked, trying his best to expel the words from his throat. “Because I’m a monster!”
“Kaneki,” When you said his name, he braced himself for the pain of rejection, but it never came. “You’re not a monster, and I don’t hate you.”
He had to be dreaming. He had to. But the tenderness of your hand caressing his hair, the warmth of your body held in his arms, and the lingering scent of your fragrance mixed with the dried scent of rust where some blood had accidentally splattered over you earlier that day—all of it was too vivid, too visceral to be fiction.
Moments passed with the both of you still, the only evidence that time hadn’t stopped right then and there being the steady pulse of your heart beating so close to his ears.
“If anything,” you finally spoke after some time, your voice hushed as if you were confessing your sins to a priest, “I’m kind of glad that you did this.”
Your words caused Kaneki’s eyes to snap wide open, and he lifted his head from your chest, gazing up to meet your eyes at last. His lips were already parted in a silent gasp when he spoke.
“What? Why would you be?—” His words were cut off short when your hand left the back of his head, the momentary absence worrying him until you brought it back, but this time to his face, lifting away the strands of ivory locks that had fallen in front of his eyes. He felt the flat surface of your thumb against his tear stained cheek, your finger sliding across the surface of his skin to wipe away some of the lingering wetness.
“You think you’re the only one who wants something you can’t have?” A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, your eyes gazing directly into his with such sincerity that he struggled to maintain eye contact. The expression in your eyes was something foreign to him; he wasn’t used to having someone look at him like this.
“You don’t mean that,” he couldn’t help but demur, though his voice shook with uncertainty. What once was a mere scintilla of hope had quickly become a much larger spark, its light seeping through the cracks of his defenses. “How could you—” ever want someone like me?
But then Kaneki felt your hand trail down his face, thumb no longer against his cheek but rather his bottom lip, and his question died on the tip of his tongue, the words only ever uttered in his mind before he ceased thinking altogether. He couldn’t tell whether his heart had stopped, or if it was instead beating too fast for him to distinguish between each pulse.
“It feels nice, you know?” Your voice was nothing short of alluring, and the simple act of your finger brushing over his lip enough to send shivers down his spine and a rosy flush rising up his cheeks. The intensity of your gaze was mesmerizing, and at the same time he felt like a deer caught in headlights, unable to do anything but stare. “Being needed by someone else...”
In that moment, he could have sworn he lost the ability to comprehend language, barely even a word able to leave his lips. “But—”
“—Is it wrong of me?” you asked, your thumb still grazing over his lip. “Is it wrong of me to want you like this?”
“No, but—”
“—I need you too, you know.” You once again cut him off. “I like you. I like that I matter to you.” As you admitted that, you let out a soft laugh, the mere sound alone making his intestines tangle around the frantically beating organ that was his heart. “I suppose I’m the sick one.”
“No, I...” Fuck, his words were catching in his throat as he desperately tried to conjure up a coherent sentence. He wasn’t sure what to say; he wasn’t even sure what was going on. But he knew he wanted to insist on one thing. “You’re not sick.”
Your thumb barely flicked over the edge of his lower lip as you pulled your hand away.
“May I?” you breathed.
May I? The question echoed in his mind, and only then he realized that all of this was happening to him, and it was all real. You had just asked him to kiss. You, who were undeniably sweet and enchanting, with a smile that rivaled the luminosity of a supernova, eyelashes gracefully brushing over endless pools of compassion, and him. Him, a ghoul—a monster that feasted on the flesh and blood of your very kind, a selfish coward that plucked you out of the comfort and safety you once had, all because he was too weak to control himself.
And yet you wanted to kiss him, something utterly incomprehensible to him. But, as wrong and irrational as it was, he wanted it, too.
“I—” Kaneki found himself pathetically spluttering, trying to put his emotions into words. “I don’t deserve any of this,” he started, inhaling shakily as he tried to steady himself before continuing. “But even though I shouldn’t, I... I still want you to, if that’s okay.” His voice had become so small, barely even audible as he finished his sentence. His eyes were watering again, the conflicting feeling of his guilt battling with his desire for you enough to make him want to cry, to look away, to run—but he remained firmly in place, his eyes fixed on yours.
The first thing Kaneki noticed when you leaned in, your free hand tangling itself into the back of his hair, was that your lips were incredibly soft. The second thing he noticed, a horrific realization that dawned upon him that very second, was that he had no idea what he was doing. Although his grip around you relaxed, he had no idea where to put his hands, or what exactly he was supposed to do with his mouth—he’d never actually kissed anyone before.
He figured that closing his eyes would be a good start, which he did, attempting to make a mental note of what you were doing. It was incredibly difficult to think straight, or even at all, with the warmth of your lips against his, but he tried his best to mimic your actions, mirroring the same movements. Was he doing this right? He couldn’t tell.
When you pulled away for air, he opened his eyes once again, greeted by the sight of your smile, lips now slightly glistening.
“I doubt it’s very comfortable on the floor,” you chuckled, and to his embarrassment, he only then noticed that he’d been kneeling on the floor next to his bed this entire time. “Why don’t you come over here?” You moved to allow more room for him, patting the mattress gently in a gesture for him to sit there. He nodded, climbing onto the bed.
Now that he was on level height with you and no longer barricaded by the edge of the bed, the physical proximity between the two of you suddenly felt a lot closer. It wasn’t something that made much sense, considering how you were kissing just a minute ago, but now there was nothing separating the two of you. Even though you were sitting right next to him, he couldn’t help but want you closer. But it didn’t stop there; he didn’t know if simply holding you would be enough; he wanted to merge with your very bones—something not physically feasible, but still desirable nonetheless. The acknowledgement of his craving for something more intimate felt blasphemous to him. He had already received more than he could have ever dreamed of. More than he could have ever deserved. He should be content with just that, and yet...
The feeling of your hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts temporarily, his full attention back on you as your other hand went to the parallel shoulder, swinging one of your legs over and around his so that your thighs were on top of his, straddling him.
This new position instantly caused Kaneki’s eyes to widen in shock, his body instinctively leaning away before he realized it was already pressed against the wall. Despite having been yearning for proximity, having you sit on his lap, the slight pressure of your weight, the feeling of your arms brushing against his, your face so close to his—he felt like he was burning up, as if a wildfire had spread across his cheeks. He wasn’t sure what shade of red he was blushing at this point, but this was the most flustered he ever experienced up until now, and reasonably so, with his lack of experience.
One of your hands moved to his cheek, cupping it gently as you looked directly at him—into him.
“Is this okay?” you asked, and as much as he wanted to respond, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything more than bashfully nod. His reaction appeared to worry you, as your eyebrows furrowed with concern at his response, or rather, lack thereof.
“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, okay?” As soon as you said those words, he could feel your weight shift off of him, eliciting an instinctual reaction from him. His arms instantly wrapped around you and pulled you towards him, your chest firmly pressing into his. He could feel his fear spike, a fresh wave of terror washing over him.
She’s going to leave, his mind said. She’s going to leave. She’s going to abandon you, because you can’t do anything right.
“No!” Kaneki cried, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He could feel your pulse through your carotid artery, pulsing against his cheek with each thump of your heart. “No, don’t go! I’m sorry—”
“—It’s okay.” You didn’t try to pull away, letting him continue to embrace you as you spoke. “I’m not going anywhere, but I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“No,” he repeated himself, his voice beginning to crack as tears once again filled his eyes, leaking out onto his cheeks and splattering down against your shoulder.
So stupid, his own crying further fuelling the cauldron of hatred that was boiling over in his chest. So incompetent, he thought. She’s being nice to you, and all you do is cry.
“I’m not—” he tried to say, mustering the ability to say how he felt, despite the shame, despite the constant reminder in his mind that this was wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this with you. You were too good for him. “I’m not uncomfortable, I—”
Kaneki gulped, taking a deep breath.
“I want this,” he finally declared. He didn’t know how it was possible that you still wanted him—he was a mess. Not only did he have no idea what he was doing, he had also been pitifully crying this entire time. He was sure that this was the least attractive thing you had ever seen, and it was astonishing that you hadn’t simply lost interest by now.
“Okay,” you replied, “but just let me know if you want to stop, or anything like that.” You insisted, before adding more, “I won’t be upset.”
The reassurance you gave him was enough to have him finally loosen his grip around you, arms no longer coiled around your frame as he leaned back against the wall, a soft smile on his face as he nodded.
With that, your lips were back on his, though this time he was able to match his movements with yours, the taste of your mouth oddly pleasant as his tongue brushed against your own. Everything in the room felt hot, too hot, like someone had turned the heating to its maximum. Not only did the temperature feel like it had risen tremendously, but the sensation of your lips melting against his combined with the small shifts of your weight on his lap was also—much to his horror—causing his brain to send signals straight down to his hips. His eyes widened as he felt his own member twitch, the blood seeming to leave his head to fuel his erection instead, something that had quickly transformed from absence to demanding full attention. The weight of your body and each fraction of a movement you did gave it just enough friction for him to notice, but not nearly enough to satiate his newfound need. But as soon as that thought ended, he came to a terrible conclusion.
What if you could feel it, too?
No, he couldn’t let you notice—the act of kissing you alone was sinful; to covet this was nothing short of sacrilege.
What should I do? He wondered, frantically going through his options. Should I try to adjust our position and move her off my lap? Or should I pretend that nothing’s going on, and hope she doesn’t notice?
As he was contemplating his options, he felt you pull away, peering at him with confusion visibly written over your features.
“Is something wrong?” you inquired, causing him to realize that he was inanimate for a second too long, with how much he was caught up in his own thoughts. It had clearly taken him too long to think of a response, and he was certain his face was betraying his embarrassment, because your eyes glanced downward for a second, and that was all it took for you to put two and two together. “Oh, you—”
“I’m sorry!” Kaneki instantly blurted out, mortified at the situation. Maybe now, you’d think he was a pervert—some kind of creep. He could swear he wasn’t; he had never thought about you in this way before, and curse his body for reacting the way it did. He never imagined he would have such unwanted reactions; it wasn’t like he usually had an extremely high libido or paid much attention to such things. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he continued to apologize, “I—”
—Didn’t mean to? Shouldn’t be thinking about you this way? Don’t want to make you uncomfortable? Everything he could think of saying sounded like pathetic, miserable excuses, and was he really about to cry again?
“I didn’t say it was a problem,” you mumbled, and though you were still able to meet his gaze, he saw your eyes flicker away to the side for a moment, the hints of colour staining your cheeks deepening. Your hands cupped the sides of his cheeks again, your touch light as you touched your lips to his forehead in a gentle, reassuring kiss. “And there’s nothing for you to feel bad about.”
The kindness with which you treated him, the look of sheer adoration in your eyes—it was all too much for him. He was so undeserving of this, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to reject any of what you were offering. He couldn’t even stop himself from wanting more, knowing for himself then that greed knows no bounds.
A tear slid down the side of his cheek. When you saw it, you laughed softly, fingers swiping the small drop away.
“You know,” you started, “With how much you’re crying, I feel like I’m doing something wrong.”
“You’re not!” Kaneki was quick to disagree with your statement. It was almost absurd to him that you could possibly think you were doing anything incorrectly, and he rushed to explain otherwise. “It’s just... Is this— Is this really okay?”
He knew he was pitifully begging for your validation, eyes glancing at you in a silent plea, but it nonetheless had his heart bursting with fireworks when you replied.
“Of course,” you smiled, leaning back in to press a chaste kiss against his lips, and he was just about to kiss you back when you shifted to the side, lips touching his cheek.
As you trailed kisses down to his jaw, then his neck, he could swear each time your lips were on him it felt like molten iron, hot and searing individual marks on his skin. He had never been touched there before, and the few times he had, it was all violent bites or agonizing stabs. The contrast between those experiences and the languid, tender way your mouth gently brushed against the surface of his skin was almost jarring, but entirely, pleasantly so. Every singular action of yours—your mouth was now on his collarbone—both tickled and felt delightful at the same time, an inexplicable concoction that had him unwittingly tilting his head back to expose his throat to you, wordlessly begging for more.
You indulged him, trailing more kisses back up to the exposed flesh, this time taking the slightest bit of skin between your lips, dull teeth grazing over his neck in an entirely unfamiliar, painless way that made him whimper. Your mouth felt so incredibly, almost agonizingly warm when you took more of his flesh in, before letting go a second later, your teeth pleasurably scraping his neck all the while.
Kaneki felt one of your hands trail down to his lap, resting at his inner thigh almost reluctantly. Just close enough for him to understand what you were hinting at.
It shouldn’t have been surprising to him at this point, considering the events that had transpired leading up to this, yet he nonetheless found it hard to accept that this was all really happening. But the sensation of your mouth on his neck and the blazing heat that emanated from every spot you had graced with your touch was more than enough to render him feverish and dazed.
“Are you comfortable undressing?” The way your gaze seemed to pierce through Kaneki’s very soul made him shudder. It felt as if he was already exposed, and he decided that he enjoyed the way your eyes threatened to devour him whole. As if the eye contact alone was enough to put him in a trance, he nodded without thinking, fingers slipping underneath the waistband of his sweatpants. He was glad that he had already showered and changed before you woke up.
However, as soon as he tugged his sweatpants down an inch, revealing the hem of his underwear, he paused. He hadn’t ever undressed for anyone; not like this. He hadn’t thought about or realized it earlier, but now that he was actually doing it, he felt his characteristic shyness return.
“I— I’ve never—” He was practically squeaking when he choked those words out. The urge to bury his face in his hands, or hide himself in some way or another, was overwhelming.
“It’s okay,” you whispered, gingerly pressing your lips to his cheek once again. The way you touched him was so light, all your movements feathery and barely skimming the surface of his skin. As if he was something fragile and frail—as if you were the one afraid of breaking him. “Do you want me to stop?”
Kaneki shook his head.
“No, I don’t want you to stop,” he mumbled, before adding an apology, “I’m sorry...”
“What are you sorry about?” you laughed, pressing another kiss to his cheek, this time firmer. As you finished your sentence, you ran your fingers over the form of his member, and despite the two layers of clothing that separated you, Kaneki’s breath instantly hitched.
The sensation was almost too much for him, a feeling he wasn’t used to experiencing before, not from someone else’s hand. Though he couldn’t even remember the last time he had touched himself; Cochlea’s cells did not exactly have a sensual atmosphere.
At the same time, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t even close to enough. He wanted—needed—more, his fervent desire temporarily overshadowing his bashfulness.
As your fingers hooked onto the edge of underwear, seemingly intent on taking both articles of clothing off at once, he reached for his pants, gently lifting his hips up as he helped you undress him. His eyes were averted to the side as he undressed, though a quick glance revealed how hard he was, his cock begging for attention, small drops of pellucid fluid already leaking from the glistening, pink tip.
“I don’t understand why you would want to do this,” he muttered, still unable to meet your eyes.
“I’d say it’s probably the same reason that you’re hard right now.” Before he could conjure up a response, he felt your fingers on his length, and all coherent thoughts left his head, replaced by a strangled gasp.
The feeling of your fingers slowly wrapping around his erection, gently lifting it up and away from his abdomen was something that seemed to light up nerves that had previously not existed. He tried to take a breath to steady himself, but as soon as his lips parted, he felt a small, experimental stroke. What left his mouth was instead a trembling moan, the possibility of regaining his composure instantly dissipating with the next movement of your hand. Each pump of his cock—your hand feeling inhumanly warm around it—seemed to send a fresh wave of electricity through his body, and within seconds, he found himself reduced to nothing but whimpers. Each sound he made was higher pitched and whinier than the last.
“Does this feel okay?” Kaneki heard you ask, causing him to turn his attention back onto you.
“Ah—” he mewled as your thumb brushed against the back of his tip. You beamed at his reaction, seemingly pleased with yourself.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” you said. As he looked at you, glanced from the way your fingers were gliding up and down his length, then upwards to the surrounding area of your collarbones, he couldn’t help but feel bothered by the sight of your clothing. The fabric that was previously insignificant and meaningless to him was now something frustrating, and he longed to see how your skin looked underneath. His desire for you appeared to be a bottomless pit, an abyss that he continuously fell deeper in, with no end in sight. He wasn’t sure if it’d be okay to ask you something like that or not. On one hand, you had been astonishingly fine with everything occurring up until now, but on the other—
“Hng—” The way you tightened your grip wasn’t lost on him, the heat pooling in his groin threatening to overflow. He could tell he was already close, too close, but—as much as he should just be satisfied with this—he wanted more.
“Ah— I—” He could barely think, let alone speak, each stroke of your hand like a bolt of lightning, something igniting every circuit in his brain so much so that they were frying. “I don’t want to—” he desperately tried to speak before it was too late, “not yet—”
Your hand quickly came to a stop, and your fingers left his throbbing cock, now aching for release more than ever before.
“Do you want to do something else?” you asked him. He took a second to catch his breath before responding, nodding earnestly as he gathered up his courage to admit what he wanted.
“I-I want to make you feel good too,” he stuttered, his resolve dissolving as fast as it materialized. “If that’s... not too much to ask for.”
“Of course not,” you answered, not seeming apprehensive at all, something that had Kaneki’s heart fluttering, like it was a small creature of its own that had grown legs and wings and was seeking to break free from the constraints of his ribcage. “I’d love to, should I...” For the first time, you appeared just as bashful as he was, your eyes diverting to the side as you spoke. “Should I get undressed?”
He hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was really okay to ask you something like this.
“If you don’t mind,” he finally said.
You were still avoiding his gaze as you slid your top off, the rest of your clothing following soon after. He remained unmoving, simply taking in the sight before him with utter awe and admiration.
The sight of your body and bare skin was nothing short of entrancing; Kaneki could only stare at you with utter awe and admiration. With each piece of fabric that was put to the side, you showed him parts of yourself that he never imagined he’d see. And all of it was stunning.
Your skin looked so smooth, so dewy—he longed to feel it against his own—and your body perfectly shaped, each dip and curve too ethereal to not have been sculpted by the hand of a deity. Someone as flawless and divine as you could not be anything but a gift from the gods themselves.
But the gods would never give something so good to a monster like him. His desire for you went deeper than skin and flesh, a craving that was nestled deep within the marrow of his bones. Yet he felt paralyzed. The thought of this being likened to desecration kept him from reaching out towards you.
“How long are you planning to stare at me for?” you chuckled, taking his hand in yours and bringing it to your chest. Your flesh rested in the palm of his hand as he tentatively squeezed, his eyes instantly enlarging. Just from looking at you, he already knew how lovely and delicate you were, but not even his imagination could measure up to how soft everything was.
“I-I—” Kaneki tried to find the right words; it only felt appropriate to say something and not be completely silent. He settled on something simple, unable to quite find the words to perfectly express his thoughts. “You’re so... so pretty.”
This time, when you replied, you looked off to the side, almost seeming embarrassed. “Thank you,” you smiled, before returning the compliment. “So are you.”
The oxygen in his lungs was instantly depleted when you crawled back over his lap, a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, the other on his member, eliciting a needy whine from him.
“Is this really okay?” Kaneki couldn’t stop himself from asking one last time, just to ensure that you were certain about doing this. “Are you sure you want to do this?” With me, he thought.
But you already know her answer, his own mind scoffed. You just want to hear her say it. You just want her to lie to you, and tell you that you’re not a mon—
“I’m sure,” you replied, unknowingly having interrupted his internal monologue. “Do you want to?”
Of course, he thought, but what came out instead was something different. “Do I— Do I really deserve something like this? Do I really deserve to feel this good, this happy? A monster like me...”
“Kaneki,” Your voice was firm. “You’re not a monster, and even if you were, I’d still love you.”
He didn’t know how long exactly it was, but he knew that he spent a long time simply processing those words.
“Can—” It was as if his tongue had tied itself into knots upon knots. He could barely speak, too astonished by your words to formulate coherent words. “Can you say that one more time?”
“Kaneki,” you repeated his name. He knew he was being desperate, he was being pathetic and needy; he didn’t care. Not when he could audibly hear those words that he had always—despite knowing that he shouldn’t—hoped for. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he breathed, “and... I want this with you.”
Your eyes bore into his very being, and he maintained eye contact this time, affectionately holding your gaze. He could see the dusting of coral in your flushed cheeks, your slightly parted lips that he never wanted to stop kissing, the way your eyelashes framed your irises so gracefully, and your smile, brighter than any quasar.
It felt as if he, himself, had fallen into a galaxy’s glowing core when your body enveloped his own. He felt your walls wrapping around his cock as you slowly lowered yourself, ensheathing the entirety of his length in your warmth, your thighs once again resting on top of his.
His eyes snapped shut for a moment as he tried to steady himself, desperately drawing in breaths. The blazing warmth engulfed everything. Every point of contact between the two of you was a convergence of intense, sweltering heat and eternally detonating fireworks. The sensations were overwhelming. His senses were so heightened that the stimulation was far much more than he could handle; the signals that each miniscule movement sent demanded every last ounce of attention from his overloaded brain. His body practically recoiled at the slightest touch, as if it were a live wire waiting to be shocked.
When his eyes opened again, he saw you sheepishly grinning at him, one of your hands on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck.
“Okay?” you asked. Kaneki nodded.
You gently rocked your hips against his, every move causing a newborn wave of pleasure to wash over him. Strings of whimpers and whines left his lips as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in closer to him. Your chest was firmly pressed against his, his laboured breathing tickling the nape of your neck with each staggering exhale.
“Mm, Kaneki,” You stilled your hips momentarily as you spoke. He could feel your hands leave his upper body and tug at the sides of his shirt instead. “Take this off.”
He nodded quickly and briefly released his grip on you, hastily removing the last article of clothing that separated the two of you and throwing it aside. As soon as he did, he felt your hands on his back, just underneath his shoulder blades. He mirrored the action, the both of you pulling each other close until your bodies were flush against one another’s, skin touching skin.
Amidst his own sounds, he heard the melodic sounds of pleasure you made as you continued to move against him, your hips shifting back and forth. Each sway of your hips caused more parts of his brain to light up like a circuit board, and despite his mind resembling the brightly lit city of Tokyo with its blinding lights—he was at the same time seeing stars.
“Does this feel good?” you asked. You leaned in closer, your lips ghosting over his but not quite touching yet.
“It feels...” he whined as he spoke, “You feel amazing—”
You smiled before pressing your lips to his. He shut his eyes as he leaned into the kiss, the heat emanating from your mouth made his own melt. He was no longer sure if he was devouring you or the other way around, but that was of little significance as you hungrily kissed him back.
Kaneki’s hands slid down your back, coming to a halt near the bottom of your thighs, his fingers grasping at the soft curve that connected your hips to your legs.
“Is this okay?” he broke apart from the kiss momentarily to ask. His fingers were digging into the soft, delicate flesh of your backside.
“Yes,” you gasped, “it’s okay.” Your lips collided once more.
The starvation with which your lips danced together was nothing but pure, unadulterated desire. A coveting so strong that neither of you could resist submitting to it—something so powerful that it dominated even the dark recesses of his mind.
It’s okay, you had said. It’s okay. The usual noise occupying his mind finally quieted down, your words causing the constant onslaught of fear to subside. Your flesh fit nicely in his palms as he lifted you up slightly, grinding his hips into yours, his apprehensions at last dissipating. His movements were frantic, his hips desperately jerking up and against yours as he moved you alongside the length of his cock.
Maybe just for a second, Kaneki could allow himself to believe that this really was okay. That even if he didn’t deserve what he had, it was alright for him to accept it, nonetheless.
And maybe just for a second, he could stop thinking about any of that. None of it mattered then, because all he had to do was permit himself to be immersed in the present moment. All he had to do was immerse himself in the softness of your lips fused with his, the warmth of your hands affectionately held onto his skin, the rapid thump of your pulse pressed so tightly to his bare chest that he could feel your heartbeat, and the coalescence of your bodies intertwined—each passionate roll of his hips against yours sending shockwaves through his body.
When the final tides of fire licked their way through his bloodstream and his world became an incandescent brilliance, he was helpless to do anything but cry out your name. Somewhere in the background, he could hear you doing the same, his name exquisitely rolling off your tongue.
As the white, hot radiance slowly began to fade into the softer iridescence of a nebula, he could feel the moisture of the sweat glistening upon both your bodies and hear the sound of your ragged, panting breaths as he returned to mortality.
Kaneki’s body was unbearably warm, but despite the way your body heat almost painfully engulfed his flesh, he found the feverish state you both basked in to be oddly cathartic. Your heart was still forcefully pounding in your chest, as was his, the sound of flowing blood loudly ringing in his ears. Your body was slumped against his, entirely limp and fully resting on him. Despite his exhaustion, he wrapped his arms around your torso, holding you closely.
He could feel your lulling caress as you stroked his hair once again, gently smoothing it over as the two of you shared a moment of serenity, the only sounds audible being your breathing.
When you finally pulled away from him, pushing yourself up, you began to giggle. Just as he was about to ask you what was so funny, you spoke.
“What are you crying for, now?” You brushed your damp hair out of your eyes. Kaneki, too, laughed, shaking his head as he responded.
“I’m just really happy,” he smiled, another tear escaping the corner of his eye and dripping down his cheek.
“Right,” you chuckled, laying down on his bed and stretching your body out. “Come here. I’m tired.”
Kaneki nodded, moving to lay down beside you. He pulled the blankets up to cover your body, before crawling underneath the covers to nestle himself by your side.
His hand ghosted over the side of your cheek as he moved the stray hairs out of your face. He watched your eyes close as he ran his fingers through your locks, stroking your hair in the same tender manner that you did for him. The gentle petting of your hair continued while he watched any remaining tension beneath your eyelids dissolve with your slumber, only stopping the repeated movement when he was sure that you were sleeping soundly.
Kaneki took in your peaceful expression one last time prior to closing his eyes, etching the sight of your features into his mind as a permanent engraving. Just before he allowed the fatigue to take over, his thoughts came to one resolute finality.
He would protect you.
As much as he wanted to keep living in blissful ignorance, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the CCG would raid his apartment in search of him. Even though he loved you dearly and wanted to keep you by his side, he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to do so. And so, when the time eventually comes, it would be his turn to protect you—like you had protected him every single previous time—be it through taking other lives, or sacrificing his own.
Because even the primal fear of death pales in comparison to his fear of losing you.
He knew that it was entirely possible for this apartment to be raided in the dead of the night, with investigators coming to save you from the monster everyone besides you believed him to be. He was sure they would think of you as a victim; you hadn’t even been conscious when he brought you away.
As Kaneki fell asleep, he came to one final conclusion. Even though this rest may be his last, even though he may never wake up again, even though the darkest night may never end—he could accept that.
For as long as you exist, the sun will always rise again.
fandoms: tokyo ghoul, genshin impact, (more fandoms may be added later! :3)
all works are reader insert [character x fem reader]
author's note: dead dove: do not eat. the following works may contain dark, explicit content, including rape/non-con, dub-con, stockholm syndrome, ‘yandere’ tropes, abuse, death, violence, and similar themes.
please read at your own discretion.
if you wish to see more content, please consider commissioning me! ♡
