Based off of this tiktok sound. I was watching a lot of analog horror and I heard this on tiktok and immediately thought of geto lolol. I'll definitely make this into a full fic once I have time! The reader def lives tho. Please comment and reblog! It helps to keep me motivated.
Geto (Kenjaku) x Gn Reader
Trigger warnings: grief, psychological horror, body horror, teeth imagery, derealization, unsettling audio distortion, corrupted reality, stalking, home invasion themes, manipulation, mentions of death, unreality, possession implications.
The kettle clicked off behind you.
You didn’t remember putting it on.
The house was quiet, in that awful way grief makes the walls hum like they’re too hollow. Every creak, every faint rattle of the pipes settled heavy in your chest. You poured tea with shaking hands, steam curling off the surface like thin, ghostly fingers.
It wasn’t supposed to be this quiet.
Your phone buzzed against the counter, a faint vibration like a heartbeat. You didn’t remember setting an alarm. You didn’t remember—
Sitting on your couch like he’d never left. Like his funeral hadn’t been six months ago. Like you hadn’t shoveled dirt into the earth and collapsed under the weight of losing him.
The ceramic mug slipped from your hands, shattering at your feet. Tea bled into the floorboards, creeping along the cracks like old blood.
You staggered backward, throat tightening.
His eyes glinted under the faint light of the living room, head tilting slightly. His smile stretched… off. Too wide. His lips peeling back a little too far, teeth glinting unnaturally white in the dim apartment glow.
There was something behind those teeth.
You blinked, heart pounding, vision blurring as the impossible image fractured logic right down the center of your ribs.
His grin didn’t falter. His teeth… shifted. A faint click, wet and rhythmic, like bones popping quietly into place behind his lips.
“Do I look like your boyfriend?”
It was his voice. Exactly.
But it dragged—half a second behind the motion of his mouth, glitching like corrupted audio from an old tape.
You clenched your fists. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think.
You shook your head, words falling out of your mouth without permission:
It didn’t make sense. You knew it didn’t. But your brain—your heart—refused to catch up. Denial pressed hot behind your eyes as the ache in your chest strangled reason.
His smile widened—too wide now, more teeth folding behind the front row like jagged glass crowding in endless spirals down his throat.
Your knees nearly buckled.
"I can’t believe it… you could be twins…”
His head tilted, skin around his mouth stretching at odd angles. The seams of his jaw cracked faintly, like old stitches pulling apart. The rows of teeth shifted again, multiplying—perfect, sharp, endless.
"Your face… your voice… just your hair… your clothes…”
Your pulse screamed in your ears. You backed into the counter, tea pooling around your feet, soaking your socks.
His smile rippled wider, jaw clicking open in tiny, grotesque increments.
“My name…” he breathed, voice layered, glitching like a corrupted broadcast,
The television buzzed to life behind you, screen flashing with static, words warping across the display:
> "IF THEY SMILE TOO WIDE—RUN."
> "IF THEY HAVE TOO MANY TEETH—RUN."
You turned toward the screen, hands trembling—
It showed your living room.
You standing frozen by the counter.
Kenjaku was right behind you.
Mouth splitting open unnaturally wide.
Teeth folding out, rows upon rows spiraling endlessly down into darkness.
But his voice—everywhere now, leaking through the walls, the static, the hum of dead appliances:
Your phone buzzed again—answering itself—your own voice whispered from the speaker:
The hallway stretched unnaturally long, doors multiplying like reflections fracturing in a funhouse mirror. The walls pulsed, breathing like living arteries beneath cracked paint.
Photos lined the hallway.
But as you passed, the smiles widened.
The doors warped at the edges, the frames bending, the hallway curling back in on itself like a snake swallowing its own tail.
Kenjaku’s voice leaked from every speaker, every vent, the cracks in the floorboards:
“You missed him so much…”
"You let me wear his face…”
The floor split beneath you, yawning wide, spiraling rows of teeth stretching up from the cracks, gnashing and grinding as you plunged into the darkness.
The last thing you saw before the void swallowed you:
Mouth unhinged, teeth folding outward like a blooming, flesh-colored flower.
His voice slicing into your skull:
"I don’t look like a ghost… do I?”
And as the teeth closed over you,
You just opened the door wide enough for something else to crawl in.
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