#yandere kenjaku x reader

[ataraxiaspainting]

Old Friend.

Yan Kenjaku x F Reader x Yan Geto.

Synopsis: The stranger looks all too familiar, aside from three peculiar mannerisms. How his fingers creep along the table’s edge. How his voice is too soft, too kind, and not at all cruel. How there are black stitches on his forehead.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, misogyny, use of the word monkey, and descriptions of past physical/mental abuse.

Word Count: 900.

*~*~*~*

Flattery comes out from Suguru’s mouth one sentence at a time, the words themselves soothing but the tone not so. After being dressed in clothes you picked out, after being presented with food you loved before captivity, you feel as though you were just revived��� reborn. This feeling is foreign and isn’t let into your heart all at once, but little bit by little bit, because you know that Suguru’s gifts are often never superficial, but you also know how fast Suguru’s temper can spew once he has had enough of your antics.

On your knees, that demand is always accompanied by Suguru’s pointer finger facing down to the floor, monkey.

Somehow that collar consistently finds its way into Suguru’s right hand, even without one of his servants giving it to him.

But yet, here and now, you don’t feel the same ominous aura. It’s something darker. Something that for once isn’t directed at you, but the servants Suguru always treated well. So, would that make his aura lighter? You’re not sure. Similar to when it comes to Suguru’s moods and false smiles and truthful lies, you don’t know what to think.

“Master Geto?” You ask, looking past him to the balcony exit behind him. With all the candles put on the table, his face looks nearly fully illuminated, but the shadow covering his eyes is still there regardless. 

“Yes, pet?” Suguru responds, his hands cupping his face as he looks at you. 

“I…” You start, your thumbs caressing one another underneath the long white tablecloth. “Just wanted to thank you… that’s all.”

Suguru chuckles at that. No. Not a chuckle per se. Some sound unknown to you, or perhaps the identity of such was forgotten by you after so many years of being here kneeling at his feet on the floor like a trained mutt. 

Speak.

I’m sorry, Master Geto.

Make it more desperate so I know you won’t make false vows unbefitting of my precious varmint. I’ll even help you. What happens when a dog attempts to hurt its owner?

“Don’t worry about it, [First] dear. You deserve a dinner such as this, for you deserve to celebrate too.” He has never said your name other than when he is displeased with you, so him doing such makes you wince. Suguru takes another sip of his sake, not paying much mind to your innate actions.

They get hit back, Master Geto.

Then what will happen to them next time, if they do it again?

Something will break.

“You look quite divine tonight,” He says, using his knife to split his remaining steak into quarters. He stabs one of the pieces with his fork and chews on it without making much noise.

“Uh…”

“Everything about you is quite beautiful… I can see you becoming my wife one day after all of this is over. That is, if you continue to be so cute and defenseless, it’s your place after all.”

What kind of thing? Speak up.

Anything. A bone… Something they like… Their spirit…

Correct… and what is that thing covering your hand?

“You’re not really eating, dearest… Is something the matter?” He asks. You find yourself questioning if Suguru's concern is genuine. After all, he has faked empathy towards you before, so this wouldn't be the first time.

“No, no… It’s good.” In order to avoid his anger, you proceed to fill your mouth with sake and sesame rice. This amuses him. Does he find your desperation endearing? That would be in character for him, now that you think about it.

A cast, Master Geto.

And what did you do to earn such a thing?

You… broke my hand, after I tried to use the pieces of that broken bedroom window to stab you.

“I’m happy you’re enjoying it.” He grins, leaning in closer. “I have an offer for you. How about we go outside for a walk after this? It has been quite some time since you have seen the full moon, hasn’t it?”

Finally, you can envision a vast expanse of twinkling stars right before your eyes. In the realm of dreams, they reside so near, immune to fading or descending. But you ponder if reality holds the same allure. It has been an eternity since you were last allowed to venture outdoors. Oh, how you yearn for a glimpse of the sky once more.

Tell me, do you think you earned such a thing?

…Yes.

Good. It seems you’re learning.

But the temptation stopped as fast as it came. Dread replaces it in an instant. 

This man isn’t Suguru. You know that much for certain. With every hell he has put you through, you have come to know him and his mannerisms. Those mannerisms are nothing like this man. The thought scares you. Is this man a curse, the same kind Suguru uses against you after every escape attempt? Or is he just a normal man who is acting like him as a placeholder of some sort?

Where… is Suguru?

“...Why are there stitches on your forehead?”

[lilacxquartz]

lilac’s bite sized jjk yandere nightmares masterlist

about: exploring darker yandere with short stories/8 chapters max fics—updated every monday with sometimes a break if a chapter/story needs more time.

tw: some of these works will be very intense, the generalised tag is dead dove, but the specific warnings will be listed in the work or chapter as it gets updated. links lead to ao3 as well as tumblr.

ao3 • main masterlist

blessed with blue • tumblr link

angel satoru gojo x mortal reader

to save a broken soul • tumblr link

suguru geto x cursed spirit reader

pretty little trinket • tumblr link

harpy shoko x human reader

beyond hellfire

true form sukuna x reader

haunted memories

kenjaku x vessel reader

limited edition doll

mahito x reader

frozen in time

mad scientist uraume x reader

symbiosis

(turning) zombie choso kamo x reader

entombed

yuki tsukumo x reader

damsel in distress

king kento nanami x peasant reader

in my web

monster utahime x adventurer reader

passenger princess

shiu kong x reader

the lies we tell

higuruma hiromi x reader

never let you go

ghoul naoya x widowed reader

too pretty to die

takuma ino x reader

[xjulixred45x]

If Child reader of Platonic Yandere Kenjaku meets Gojo...

Before anything, this is NOT a continuation of THIS one, that is more a scenerio of "What if", this is what i call the Route to the "True Ending" for Say something. NOW lest continue.

Also, this idea was kind of given by @kiracrzy-blog (thanks for that one Sweetie! Hope You enjoy!)

Satoru probably knew about (Child reader) even before the whole disaster, he would know that Geto had a child, but he didn't have much else, Suguru was very careful with them and their mother to prevent them from going after them (Even more if the child have inherited his cursed technique), but Satoru was definitely very curious about the child.

That's why he wouldn't know how he would interact with them if he ever met them, I mean, he LITERALLY killed their father and couldn't stop them from killing their mother, why would they want to see HIM of all people? He also had time to think about it in the containing prison.

A part of him wanted to meet them, see what they were like, were they more like Suguru or more like their mother? Were they extroverted or introverted? What was Suguru like as a father? And their mother? Did they suffer a lot when they died? Did they know that THAT THING was controlling their father's body?

Many of those answers were resolved as soon as he was released.

NOW, Gojo is much calmer and more mature than one would expect in the situation, he can see that (Child reader) has already been through a lot and he doesn't want them to be more afraid of him than they probably already are. He wants them to also get answers to their questions, so he sets up some small outings, nothing too complicated, just going to eat something somewhere safe and Satoru lets them ask them questions in exchange for the same.

Satoru was happy to hear that Suguru was a good father, that (child reader)'s mother was a good mother, that they lived a happy life...until Suguru died and Kenjaku arrived in his place.

Satoru is surprised that they (Child reader) don't resent him, but then he says something he wouldn't have expected at this point.

-"You may have killed my dad...but you were my father's only best friend...we can let things be...get over it...you mean a LOT to My father even...after all..."-

...that was so...wow, (Child reader) has power, they made the strongest sorcerer of today almost cry. He didn't think he needed to hear that SO MUCH...

although of course, not everything is so positive, Satoru has to retain all the anger he feels when hearing how Kenjaku came to treat (Child reader) using the body of their OWN FATHER and he may even have to console them, because well, it's HORRIBLE that distort the image of a person you love like this.

Satoru promises, SWEARS to (child reader) that after winning against Sukuna, he will go directly against Kenjaku and when he kills him, both will give him a dignified burial with the twins, and if the changes are in their favor, the WHOLE family of Geto. and (Child reader) feel light for the first time in God knows how long, they being with Gojo Kenjaku won't be after them. They are safe, they are not alone.

I think that in general, during the entire month of preparation that Gojo does before the battle against Sukuna, he takes advantage of every gap in his schedule to spend time with (child reader) and be a kind of "fun uncle" for them (he may even try to start a conversation with the twins, but it doesn't always work). He shares sweet things with them, tells them stories from when he and their father were young, he may even teach them a couple of useful techniques for hiding and so on.

Gojo carrying (child reader) on his shoulders while they go somewhere fun or while Gojo uses his infinity to float 🥺it would be so healthy..

Meanwhile Kenjaku is pulling his hair and biting his nails because GODDAMED! He can't get (child reader) back if they are not alone!if he get even a little close to Satoru he will kill him! And now (child reader) and Gojo are TOGHETER ALMOST EVERY DAY!! and at the same time he is soooo jealous that (child reader) is having such a good time with Gojo. He's their DAMN FATHER (in his crazy head at least)! And (child reader) acts more as if his enemy is more worthy of their affection than HIM):< (HE IS, but he will never admit it).

The good thing is that neither Sukuna nor Uraume are interested in helping Kenjaku in this, they already dislike him, but now that he spends his time complaining about a human child and since he wants them back, it is strangely tolerable, they are not going to ruin all returning them to Kenjaku. Part of them are just happy that Kenjaku is suffering for the first time in thousands of years.

Returning to the topic, I also imagine that (Child reader) shares everything that Satoru gives them with Choso and the twins, shows them their new clothes, saves candy for them, tells them excitedly about their day with Gojo, etc. .

Choso is so happy to see (Child reader) FINALLY be a child their age, get excited about these kinds of things and I think he would thank Satoru directly for everything he does for them even if he knows what happened in the past ( by not fully understanding humans and partly also because of all the positive feelings that have happened to Child reader)

Mimiko and Nanako are happy for (child reader), very happy, of course, they can't completely forgive Satoru, but damn, this could be the first step to HEALING (child reader), of returning to normal once everything is over , to be a family together again... who knows... maybe Gojo can be part of it... being so important to Geto...

Gojo is fine with just being a friend to (Child reader) in the future or being part of their family, as long as he is PART OF THAT FUTURE, and that future is HAPPY AND SAFE, he is fine with that, even if they don't want to see him more.

a better world is the least they owe to being Geto's child... a world where they should not have gone through all the pain and trauma they had, where he didn't have to kill their father... he wants that ( child reader) TO BE A CHILD.

So when he loses the battle against Sukuna and sees Geto on the other side, he doesn't know what to say, how to ask for forgiveness from him.

He couldn't do it, he couldn't beat him, he couldn't keep his oath, he couldn't bury Suguru with (Child reader), he couldn't see what will happen to them...HE FAILED THEM. NOT ONLY THEM, BUT ALSO SUGURU.

He left his child at the mercy of the world (with that PSYCHO still alive!!). hell, a child that Geto himself should have been able to raise if he had had different circumstances, if Geto had been there, supporting him, along with his child, both happy, safe, alive...

well, (child reader) is.

Suguru would try to console him, it's not his fault he died after all, he gave everything he had, Sukuna plays dirty......Suguru (and his wife) are grateful that at least Satoru spent the time he did with their child, trying to make a better world for them. They are grateful to him.

and (Child reader) will not be alone. Satoru KNOWS that, he can be at Peace, al least a little knowing that.

______

(Child reader) only sees on the screens (while Choso and Nanako try to cover their eyes) the result of the battle, Sukuna has won, Satoru lost.

Kenjaku is still alive.

but nothing stay still too long. then everyone is going to fight, those from Culling Game, the students, special grades, Yuji...

Choso puts a hand on (Child reader's) head, Mimiko and Nanako prepare to fight, they know what it means, they don't know how they feel about it(they already had a LOT of emotions to deal with), but they know what they have in mind.

Kenjaku is going to die. whether he like it or not.

[i-cant-sing]

What happens to Teen Fushiguro in the Shibuya Arc after Kenjaku & Mahito kidnap her?

Ah yes, I forgot about this one. Okay, so I imagine that they take you underground or wherever their lair is and like idk... cast spells on you to keep you from using your powers against them. You continue to threaten them, hurl insults at them and they find it amusing because 1. You're a child 2. You don't even know how easily they could kill you. 3. You're a child, why are you trying to fight the boss fights??💀

Anyways, you grow on them and they do end up becoming yanderes for you too. I mean, Kenjaku is like grandfather/guardian figure to you, and if like Getou is still alive/concious inside him, then he's like an uncle/godfather figure to you. They're bothe very protective, Getou more than Kenjaku, while Kenjaku is more like those veteran granddads who want you to become the best version of yourself and be independent, so they don't help you unless they absolutely do need to step in, but nevertheless love you. And once you do learn whatever skill/lesson he wanted you to, or actually become independent, he does not want you to use those new skills or become independent and stop relying on him for "protection" (even if u don't want it in the first place) or leave him/try to replace him. Nuh uh.

Same goes for Getou too, only he's far more gentle with you. Of course he wants you to be stronger and independent too, but he's far more likely too jump in to help you way before any true harm befalls you. He's softer in his lessons, always has that gentle smile on his face as he dodges whatever attack you launch on him. Encouraging words as he pats your head while you're on the ground trying to catch your breath.

As for Mahito, he's much more like an annoying older brother who bullies you for shits and giggles but God forbid if anyone else hurts you. I mean he'd still make fun of you for getting hurt, but rest assured whoever harmed you is now obliterated.

Your time with them is spent with Kenjaku provoking you and finding whatever it is that makes you tick and then having you spar with curses or with Mahito (who takes great joy in being a jerk). And sure, compared to all of their other victims, you're in "paradise," but in reality, your mental is taking a plunge very fast. Because Kenjaku and Mahito have realised your trigger point-

Abandonment issues.

So they use that against you. Everyday, they tell you that your father left you, that Megumi never fought hard enough for you because he didn't like you, that Gojo knew Megumi had a sister but he didn't take you in with him, and that the Zenin clan did consider you a nuisance which is why they let Gojo take you to Jujutsu High, just so that Gojo can use you as a weapon.

And sure, you'd argue that none of it is true but when a lie is told enough times, it starts to feel like the truth. So with the constant feed of negative words and being cut off from the outside world, reader couldn't help but believe all those lies, and that's how her self esteem and mental health took a turn for worse. She becomes more isolated, more quiet, more... dead. She lacks the energy to fight off those curses, not even fazed as they come a little too close to actually killing you (obv Kenjaku or Mahito step in before they can). And this is the point where they think that now that they have broken you down, they can start building you up again... and have you join their side of the battle. Of course, you're still against that, just not putting any actual effort into reacting to them, but then... they bring Megumi.

Or well, Sukuna occupying Megumi's body.

You instantly recognised them both- recognised the shift in the energy, recognised the monster who was disguised as your brother and you broke down. Fell to your knees, sobbed hard enough for your body to shake until Sukuna gathered you in his arms and moved to a private space, away from prying eyes.

You cried and cried, and Sukuna didn't need you to actually say anything for him to understand. You were mourning for your brother, who you knew has a target on his back now that he was Sukuna's vessel, who wouldnt be leaving him so easily. He just patted your back and assured you that everything will be alright if you just listen to him, made you remember how he promised that he'd always be there for you, made you promise to stick by his side and nothing bad will ever happen to you.

"Sukuna?" Your teary voice croaked, the curse king hummed in response. "Promise you won't hurt Megumi? Won't let anyone else hurt Megumi?"

Despite everything, you still cared for your brother. You didn't really need him, but the way you begged... Sukuna didn't have the heart to say no.

"Okay. Only if you listen to me." You nodded, sniffling as you rested your head against his shoulder.

From there on, I think that Kenjaku will continue to help you weild your powers to become the perfect vessel for Sukuna (who has actually no intention of using you as a vessel, no he just wants you by his side for eternity, all for him to spoil and pamper). You follow Sukuna's rules, stay indoors and only come out when he let's you accompany him, sometimes he'd let you enter his domain expansion so that you could meet Megumi, who tries to convince you run for your life and don't worry about him.

Now, I like to think that a point comes when Gojo is finally free from the prison realm and is now ready to beat everyone's asses, and that's when Sukuna mentions how he has been having a good time with you, which only provokes Gojo to fucking murder him and even Megumi, before he finally decides to just beat his ass and look for you (probably when you stop Gojo from killing Megumi) and that's how Gojo ends up snatching you away as you scream for Sukuna to not kill Megumi, beg Gojo to let you go because Sukuna would kill Megumi if you're not there. And all of this sounds like Stockholm syndrome to Gojo and the gang, who again, keep you under lock and key.

[molvve]

As long as I live, you will hear that I am mad about Sukuna.

[mullermilkshake]

Pseudo Suguru Geto

SPOILERS

Appearances aren't always what they seem.

“Prison realm. Gate open.”

The giant square of skinless muscle opened, its singular eye wide open, showing you your fate. It glared at you, staring straight into your soul. It convulsed, vibrating like a quivering leaf.

“What- what is this?” You took a step backwards, unable to avoid its gaze, still and unnerving.

“It took so long to find you. You've been quite a nuisance.”

You recognised the voice, but it was laced with uncertainty. Would you dare to turn? Could you entertain the idea of any other eyes than the giant, ominous pupil sat in front of you?

You turned. “W-wait. No way. This can’t be-”

Suguru Geto. 

You saw him die, watching on from the sidelines, his wrist going limp and drawing last breath. There was no way he could have been standing in front of you now.

But he was.

“Long time no see.” Suguru smiled, his hand moved in a gentle wave.

Geto’s eyes were there, but then, they weren’t. They didn’t have the same love they usually had. He looked the same as he did when you last met, but the line of stitches on his forehead said otherwise. 

“It can’t be you.” You said, stepping back a fraction. “I saw you die I- Satoru killed-”

“Satoru isn’t the best at commitment is he?”

Suguru took a step getting much closer now, he was in arms reach. You could touch his cheek if you wanted. But this time wasn’t like those other times. 

“Who are you?”

“You know who I am.”

“No. Even up to Suguru’s death, he never gave me the unease you’re giving me now.”

He chuckled, fiddling with his forehead. “ You were always so clever, weren’t you?”

You gasped, putting your hand to your mouth to stop the sickness. The top of his head came away, clean and precise. His maniacal smile never faltered. 

“That’s exactly what Satoru Gojo said too. It seems I can’t fool everyone.”

A brain. His brain smiled with him, transparent goo dripped down his cheeks like it was being preserved artificially. It looked painful. You heaved and your hand clenched at your stomach in hopes to stop the chain-reaction. 

Everything was fucked. This thing was parading a dead man around you, a carcass of someone you loved. Your retching turned to sobs, you pushed him away but he stayed where he was.

“Where is he, where is Satoru? What have you done with him?!” 

“He’s in a safe place.” He paused, his smile still remained. “Now it’s just a matter of where to put you.”

Read more on my Ao3! <3

Minors DNI —-

[horizondemise]

Kenjaku in Unexpected Places: The Train

You don’t know when the train car emptied. It feels like just seconds ago, you were being crushed by the crowd and now it’s just you and one other person. A man with long black hair, wearing robes you’d normally see in a temple.

With your head lowered and a book open in your hands, it shouldn’t be obvious that you’re stealing glances at him. Though you can’t get a good look at his face from this distance, you have this odd feeling. A tickling on the surface of your brain, a sort of itch as if you’ve seen him before, but you can’t remember.

You try to shrug it off, try to focus on your book as the train keeps moving. The creak of the only other occupied seat makes you tense up and grip your book tighter. It’s followed by the tap of footsteps approaching from down the car.

Without a word, the man settles into the seat directly across from you. Your eyes lift for just a second and you can see a line of stitches across his forehead. You see the man’s handsome features; dark eyes, a masculine face. A smile is settled on his lips that…sends a shiver down your spine. You don’t recognize his face, but there’s something naggingly familiar about his smile.

He leans forward in his seat, his elbows resting on his knees as he takes you in. The last time Kenjaku saw you, he was in a different vessel. He can remember how easy you were to charm, how eagerly you doted on him and tried to please him. After being forced to abandon you in the past, he thought he may never see you again, but here you are.

Oh, are you…trembling? Gripping that book so tightly in those hands that used to explore one of his past vessels. Those lips that used to please him are set in a tight line. You may not recognize him in this body, but he’ll make sure you remember him soon enough. After all, you’re the last two people in this train car and you’re rapidly approaching the last stop of the night.

[undermine-the-instinct]

Stop looking at me with those eyes!! JJK Pt l | Pt ll | Pt lll

Characters: Sukuna, Mahito, Kenjaku, Choso.

Warnings: YANDERE. Minors DNI. Due to the nature of said characters I will classify this as yandere/ darkfic. Soft(?) Gore mentions.

(A.N:I don't know what you did to get these men's attention, but good fucking luck, lol)

Love is what they this, this lesser thing beings pursue for some semblance of worth, importance. A liability, and a weakness that {Sukuna} doesn't have. But he supposes that is love by human standards. Curses fare no better. He will not debate whether curses can love or not, he does not exist to either, and he will hold himself to no standards but his own.

You are soft and sweet in his arms, and he enjoys that. Your sounds please him, whether in pleasure or pain. He savors the taste of your blood on his tongue. He wants to rip you to shreds, but he holds himself back. It will be too troublesome to find someone good enough to replace you.

So he supposes that he loves you, in his own way. The only way that matters.

He admits that he greatly enjoys the way you look at him. Your eyes shine, and while mortal means of wealth never enticed him, these are the only jewels he wants to hold in his hands.

"Stop looking at me with those eyes."

You're held up against his side, cradled in one pair of arms, bloody and tired and limp. He is not quite sated after his latest binge, and so he holds you; the remains are scattered around you both, twitching and shivering in the open air. Much like you are, you have to stop that–Predator instincts demand he sinks his teeth into you. Your flesh is a delicacy that he knows well.

But your sweet eyes– so wide and tinged with horror, are alive and bright, like lanterns cutting through the dark mist of night. So pretty. What would he do without them?

"Stop looking at me like that pet, or I'll pluck your eyes out again, like the pretty jewels they are." They were soft and veiny in his mouth, popping like gushers. Reverse cursed technique keeps you in one piece.

As if to taunt him, your eyes gleam brighter with your tears, and his hands twitch around you.

He must always catch himself. Sometimes he doesn't. He wants to keep going, keep going further and further till you're nothing more than viscera, blood in his mouth. Until the pain turns you into a curse, held above them all, just like he is. It would be better for you. It would be better for him.

But, no, not yet. He enjoys your human softness. He deserves it.

"Oh dearest." Your tears fall out unbidden, and he sighs, brings you up to his face, and licks the tracks they run down your face. Sweet, just like the rest of you.

You will stay here forevermore. You will never belong to anyone else, much less yourself.

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

{Mahito} is a creature born from every nasty thing humanity has ever felt or thought or done. A maelstrom, a calamity. Not a catastrophy. He is still happening after all.

Love is twisted for him, it's a thing of malcontent for him. In fact, it's one of the main things that made him up. A lover's anger at a cheating partner, vicious joy at their pain, the satisfaction of a lover's vengeance. The soft vindictiveness that comes after, when you pick up the pieces and put them back together again. It twists and quivers up in the light, and Mahito offers it all to you with a smile and horrid gleam in his dual colored eyes.

"Stop….stop looking at me with those eyes." You can barely whisper. There is a weight in your chest. Mahito quirks his head, a mockery of innocence, and doesn't even pout to make light of the situation, like he usually does.

Maybe its because he's never gone this far before. His pupils are blown out, leaving hardly any color, and they don't leave you. It scares you. He is smiling, he has been smiling this entire time, and you hate that smile. It has never been a good thing.

"Do I scare you?"

You keep quiet. Because you can't think, and you know better to blurt out the first thing in your head.

Yes, yes, you do. You know you do. And I know you like that.

"Your soul is finally trembling back into place." He hums, trailing his hands along your prone form, and you can't help the little whimper that slips past your clenched teeth. You can't handle it again. But Mahito grins, and squeezes, hard. Like a child with a fresh new toy. You're sure he's leaving bruises. The kindest touch he's given you so far.

"I worried for a moment that I'd have to mish-mash you back together, but you're fine. We're fine."

You are not fine. You are absolutely not fine.

"I tried to be gentle, like you asked me to. I tried to be considerate. But, just, look at you." The shaky exhale of his breath sends your heart racing, and your hands rush over to clamp over his wrists. He lets you.

Your skin is broken and bruised and bleeding. Your head is fuzzy, but panic keeps you alert. Your heart lugs in your chest, heavy and thumping and you feel the blood pound in your ears, it makes you want to tear yourself out open in order to stop the sick rhythm. You are sore, and you can't tell what exactly is broken, or bent out of place, but you're not dead, not this time.

You don't know how many next times you have.

Mahito softly shakes his head, looks down at all your broken and bloody bits. A breathless smile spreads across his face, while his brows furrow in question.

"How am I ever going to replace you?"

You whimper.

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

{Kenjaku} has means of helping you 'reincarnate'. He says helping, but really, you don't have a choice in the matter.

He has done this dozens of times, every time he obtains a new body. You are always the first thing he attends to after, your resurrection is priority. He wants your opinion, he says, and your attention, he doesn't. Your love. You're the only one worthy, and interesting, enough of standing by his side. You will remain there.

He smiles at you in this new meat suit, long black hair and smooth skin, a monks ensemble. He sits cross-legged, chin in hand.

"Stop looking at me with those eyes dearest."

"Or what? You'll pluck them out again?" You join him at the low table, if only to glare at him closer. He smiles, almost blissful.

"Not this time, I think this form suits you more than the last. I'd hate to blind you once more."

"I'll kill you one day, Kenjaku." He nods, mockingly.

"They say love is the greatest curse."

"You don't love me." You don't hiss, you don't growl or grit the words out through clenched teeth. Your hatred and malice is a dark, cold thing, settled in the pits of your belly like sediment at the bottom of the deepest ocean. It slips from your lips like the oldest poison.

"We've done this song and dance for centuries. Your morbid curiosity and lust for power is what keeps me here. I'm a pet."

"No love," he reaches over and boops your nose. He has gotten more playful in this body, and it makes you see red. It makes you afraid.

"You're an experiment."

"Like your cursed wombs?"

"No, something more personal." You roll your eyes, and move to serve your own tea. Fuck him.

"And what experiment am I an unwilling participant in, hm? How long it takes to break me?"

"How long it takes for you to love me," he corrects. The lines of the body's scar are shiny pink in the light. You want to tear it bloody.

"Which is one and the same, I suppose."

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

{Choso} exists for his brothers, and that is all. That is all he wants and all he feels he was truly made for, and there is no room for anything else.

Anyone else.

Much less you.

"Stop looking at me with…those eyes." He doesn't understand adoration, only duty, and he is unused to the soft rapture in your eyes. It is wasted on a being like him, anyways.

"What eyes?" You droll out, still clearly lost wherever your mind went. He tries not to think where.

"You know what eyes you're making. Stop it." He hates how the softness leaves you, brow tugging down.

"Oh, sorry. I don't want to make you uncomfortable with all the, um, staring."

"It's not the staring. It's the reason behind it. Your feelings are wasted on me. Place them elsewhere." You don't flinch but your shoulders hunch, and he does not take back his words. They are true and they need to be said. Your feelings are wasted on him.

He just wishes he didn't return them.

"...I can't help the fact that I love you."

"You don't." You can't. You can't.

"Even if you did, it doesn't matter."

"Don't say that. Of course it matters."

"If love ever mattered my brothers and I wouldn't exist. You would understand the situation, and what this means for all of us. Your love is shallow, because you only see that which is in front of you." He sighs, and does not meet your gaze. He doesn't know what you see.

"There is no future for us." And no future that he can secure you.

His…father created him and his brothers on a vicious whim. He will not let you be dragged into that same cruelty.

There's no need to weep. He lets you leave to compose yourself, and doesn't let you take his heart with you.

A half curse, half human thing such as he– half wretched and half tainted blood, all sharp edges and harsh things.

He was not made for love. He was not made for soft things. He was born for tragedy and he will end that way too, and he will comply with his duties as an older brother.

He can not offer you soft things. Even if he dreams of your smiles.

So, please. Stop…looking at him with those eyes.

[gojo-mochi]

Yandere men who are so charming around everyone else… they don’t even have to hide the blood stains on their hands. Laughing it off saying they were clumsy or it’s paint. And of course everyone believes them. Why would they not? They’re so sweet and kind, especially to you, their precious darling, oh how they pepper you with soft kisses and spoil you with treats…

No one believes you when you say that they’re actually insane… playing off as a joke between the two of you when you try to get away from them. His grip on your shoulder tight as he laugh with the neighbor, saying how you were talking about some silly stuff. Guiding you back home safely. His eyes never leaving your body, his hand on your back, his presence all over you…

Kissing your forehead while you cry as he apologizes for not cleaning up his mess in the kitchen. The body still laying there cold on the floor. He makes you sit on the counter and watch as he chop it up, getting even more blood on him and you.. his bloodstain hands on your thighs parting them sweetly. You just looked so delicious and cute watching him work, and he was working so hard… just for you, you know? That delivery guy shouldn’t had touched your hand for that long, he should had known better.. but it’s ok.. he knows you love him when you don’t say a word as he takes off your panties right there in the kitchen. Right in front of chopped up corpse. Letting him slide his dirty red fingers in you, his tongue enjoying how the blood and your own slick taste on his tongue

[bluevelvetthing]

This has probably been said before, but I think Mahito definitely gets cute aggression which works out because he gives me cute aggression so we can both just nuzzle and squish and shake and bite each other while screaming/squealing incoherently

[cyllres]

Control | JJK x Makima! Reader Alternate Universe 

“𝔄𝔫𝔶 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔢𝔵𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢? ℑ'𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔶 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔩𝔩. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔩𝔦𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔡, 𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔞 𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔉𝔲𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔲𝔯𝔬, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔨𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔱𝔬𝔬. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔪𝔲𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔟𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡. 𝔖𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔫𝔬 𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞 𝔫𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔩 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢, 𝔡𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶?”

01

[lilacxquartz]

CHASING HUMANITY • kenjaku x fem!reader

ao3 • masterlist • << previous chapter • next chapter >>

summary: after witnessing a murder, you try to avoid becoming the next victim.

a/n: i’m doing a thing where each chapter is their own pov and the story progresses that way, hopefully this gives a good insight into both of their characters :)

trigger warning: referenced abuse

Chapter 2. Second Chances

You often took walks late at night.

Usually it was to escape from your personal life and at other times, it was because you simply wanted to be alone.

Your small town was a rather quaint one and it was uneventful enough that you were never that worried about your safety, even if you were out a little too late at night.

That was until you saw something that you shouldn’t have.

You had been walking for about an hour by that point, weaving through both the streets and the trees alike guided by the light of your phone at times. It didn’t take too long for you to reach the underpass just outside of town; a place that you sometimes liked to go.

At first, your mind didn’t fully register it.

You saw something happening, yes, but you didn’t fully comprehend it at first. A looming figure that was defined by nothing more but a sharp silhouette against low lighting and what appeared to be a person suspended over the bridge, tied up, limp and quite possibly dead.

No, not quite possibly…

…They were very much dead.

Your eyes focused on the scene as you watched from the sidelines of the forest, your cover still hidden. You were close enough to see that the tied up corpse was still dripping blood out of their body, recognising the faint smell of copper wafting in the cool air.

It didn’t take you too long to figure it all out.

On your walk, you had managed to witness a murder.

Pausing in your tracks, you attempted to take a step back to evade the same fate but it was all far too late as your presence didn’t seem to go unnoticed. Whether it was your heavy breathing that gave it away or the rolling crunch of the gravel that scratched the road; you were in trouble.

Quickly concealed by the surrounding shrubbery, you attempted to hide yourself which to your worry—had also failed you—as the approaching presumed murderer was now walking right towards you.

Without a second thought, you broke off into a frenzied sprint towards the forest hoping that the darkness would help conceal you, pushing yourself through the scattered trees. You weaved through the woods; grazing your arms on protruding branches that caught onto your arms as you ran, your breathing coming out in short bursts of shuddering, ragged gasps.

Your heartbeat drummed loudly in your ears and the wind felt harsh against your face, roaring whooshing static past your ears. The chase seemed to be inevitably closing in on you however, as the rapid footsteps of the perpetrator soon matched your frantic pace. Twigs and rustling leaves alike kept giving away your position—the sound of your own escape betraying you—your chest feeling sore as your ribs casted painful stitches and yet, you couldn’t take a break at all.

The reality was harsh and clear:

You were being hunted.

You swivelled your neck ever so briefly for just a split moment to see what was going on behind you, but you couldn’t even make sense of what you were looking for. The person behind you blurred into the background, the shadows concealing them quite well but also, at the same time, you could feel their breath on your neck.

(They were so close to catching up—so close, too damn close—!)

And then, without even anticipating it, your ankle twisted from the slightest incline over the uneven terrain, causing you to propel yourself forward in a stumbling fall. You grunted as your stomach tanked the hit; your body bristling against the crunching foliage.

You couldn’t stop now though, at least not yet.

Not when this could have potentially meant that you could join a similar fate.

You tried again and again to get up, to claw your way forward, kicking your knees in attempt to shoot yourself upright once again and yet—just as you were about to zoom away—a hand grasped tight around your wrist and reeled you in close against the clutches of death itself.

It was too late.

You were finally caught.

The person held you tight in their grasp, capturing your body on a struggling embrace with strong arms coiling around your torso, as though enjoying the sensation of you squirming around in their reach.

A male voice then spoke up with a playful yet dangerous tone, “Spying on me, were you?”

You shook your head, denying anything of the sort. “N-not at all, I was just passing by, I haven’t seen anyth—“

However he promptly cut you off, “—oh? I think that you’ve seen plenty.”

His touch became soothing as if he sought to calm you, to lull you into a false sense of comfort. Your breathing soon settled but your gut instinct played a warning in your mind, telling you to be wary of anything that could have possibly awaited you.

Unsure of where to go from here, you remained silent for the time being and so did he—and after a moment of nothing being said—he took it upon himself to walk you back towards the warming glow of the streetlights, the next destination unclear.

(Even if you had a clue.)

(Likely six feet under. Maybe even less.)

Albeit reluctantly, you walked towards the direction he pushed you while you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly you had accidentally caught yourself up in. You knew that screaming, kicking and crying would mean a faster death in order to quickly silence you. As a result, you were forced to face your upcoming appointment with the end, painfully aware of what awaited you.

Fighting back wasn’t an option either (at least not with the strength this man demonstrated).

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” you asked, unsure as to why you entertained asking such a thing. Hearing the confirmation wasn’t going to be easy and you knew it.

“My, aren’t you a smart one,” he praised tauntingly.

You nodded quietly in response, trying to accept that fact as you processed his words but you couldn’t quite do it. Something in your mind flipped a switch, though. Suddenly, you couldn’t help but find this situation… amusing?

Such horrid luck you had.

Your options weren’t looking good whether you lived or died; to either go back to an abusive partner or to die at the hands of a murderer wanting to keep things quiet.

Suddenly, you weren’t afraid anymore.

(It felt funny, in fact. You couldn’t help but humourlessly laugh in your head. What a cruel joke this whole thing was…!)

This did leave you bitterly wondering if he was just speeding up the inevitable for you instead—and as you trekked through the terrain—you couldn’t help but wonder something else, too. It all seemed too coincidental, too perfectly set up, especially with the artistic display left behind at the underpass.

“Are you… that guy from the news?” you asked.

“Be more specific?” he returned the question, sounding almost a bit smug about it.

“That… travelling killer?” you elaborated as he led you towards a car, leaning forward as he slipped a manual key into the boot of what appeared to be an older model.

He hummed, seeming amused, “Why? Want my autograph?”

Flipping the trunk open, he pushed some tools back as he sat you down, finding you strangely compliant throughout the whole process. He reached towards the side to fetch a loose ball of rope before tightly binding both of your wrists together and then doing the same to your ankles.

“I don’t have evidence,” you blurted out, making him pause in the process of shutting the lid.

(What were you doing?)

“Correct—“ he nodded, interrupted by you cutting him off.

“—so I can’t talk, can I?”

“…because,” he ignored your attempt to persuade him, continuing with where he left off, “you’ll be dead.”

“Okay, but what if the police couldn’t believe me, no matter what I’d tell them?” you said, attempting to explain your circumstances.

(Did you really want to live that much?)

Pausing, he narrowed his gaze at you as he allowed his curiosity to get the better of him, unable to ignore such a claim, “…Why wouldn’t they?”

“I’m…” you began, trying to explain summarise your situation, “in a relationship with an officer and they never believe me because he’s good at…” you paused, sighing, “he’s good at… hiding his bullshit, I guess? So why would they believe me for anything else?”

(Oh. So that’s where all this persistence was taking you. You wanted out. You wanted revenge, even, at least eventually.)

The man silently nodded as he studied your face for any hint of a lie. Your features seemed to indicate that this confession was genuine.

“Still, they’ll probably investigate a claim of murder,” he dismissed, “you’re still a local and it’s your word against the strange shaman who’s new in town.”

“I wouldn’t go to the police at all,” you promised, “I-I hate them and…”

As you trailed off, he considered an idea in mind. Studying your features, his sights settled on a subtle bruise towards the side of your head, just barely concealing a bruise around your ear. It could have been the remnants of a smack, perhaps a day or two old.

“Oh?” he considered, his lips flicking briefly into a smile, “But how does this benefit me exactly?”

As you considered your next words, he gently leaned you towards your side to fit you better into the trunk. Maybe, at least right now, he wasn’t going to kill you just yet. You seemed like an interesting enough ‘case study’, after all.

It wasn’t everyday that he held a conversation that he didn’t hate or got bored of quickly with a victim either.

“I d-dunno,” you stammered, “I could be your cover? Your alibi? S-something like that? …I could help you?”

“But why would you do such a thing?” he asked, daring you to explain. You were just a regular civilian, so why were you showing interest in being his accomplice? If it was just a way out of getting killed, then that would make you unreliable.

“I want out,” you admitted with a firm tone, “I don’t want to live here anymore and I can’t leave my relationship, but you can change that for me, can’t you?”

“So you were out here because of a bad situation at home?” he asked, although the way he did so sounded more like a statement.

You nodded in response against the rough surface of the trunk, seeming hopeful but he didn’t seem to comment beyond that. Instead, he tucked your limbs further into the boot of the car and slammed the lid shut, leaving you to fester alone in the dark with all sorts of thoughts invading your mind.

You listened in as he walked himself over to the front of the car, sitting himself down at the driver’s side before securing the key into ignition. You wondered where you were going next, but weren’t too hopeful about your chances due to his seemingly linear way of thinking, likely taking you towards your early death, marked by a shallow grave.

This sort of dance did feel odd to you though, because why didn’t he just kill you on the spot and then dump your body somewhere else later?

Why did he need to drive you somewhere else while you were still alive?

Your mind deluded itself into thinking that it had a chance, prompting you to accept the fact that if you kept talking, if you kept trying to keep up with him, that you would live. No matter what it took.

The trip itself lasted a good hour or so before he slowed the car to park. With the twisted ground that the car rippled through, you understood it to be in the midst of a forest or somewhere rural enough and with the flash of a torch pointed right into your eyes, you squinted as he opened up the lid, taking one good long look at you.

“So…” you began, sounding annoyingly hopeful, “you’re definitely letting me live, right?”

The man couldn’t help but wearily sigh at your persistence. You were in the uttermost bleak sort of situation and yet you wouldn’t stop talking in such a way that implied that you were an exception from the looming danger just over the horizon. He slowly reached for a shovel next to you, keeping his eyes locked on yours while hinting at his true intentions while studying your reaction.

He then next crouched slightly, hoisting you over his body with his other arm before carrying you off into the woods.

He planted you into the ground and that’s when your hope began to slightly falter, your eyes squinting as you could hear the shovel dig into the dirt, seeing him move around just barely in the dim moonlight.

“So… no letting me live?” you asked.

“Too risky,” he continued to deny, grunting as the shovel scooped up dirt, “you’ve seen too much.”

“Do I look like the type of person to run my mouth?” you asked.

He paused and blinked at you before digging even faster without giving you a sure response. Somewhere mid dig, he paused his efforts and squeezed his eyes shut, as though trying to stifle a headache.

He then glanced at you while you laid there perfectly happy with an irritatingly hopeful smile on your face, unable to deny that he was at least a little curious.

What an odd victim you were.

Maybe too odd to let go to waste.

“You’re very strange,” he commented with a resigned sigh, dragging you over to the shallow grave and looking down right at you.

“Thank you,” you replied.

“Not exactly a compliment,” he murmured, kicking some dirt over you to gauge whether or not your reaction would be any different if he at least buried you somewhat alive.

“So… how about it?” you asked again, your tone of voice sounding still hopeful even if you didn’t feel the slightest bit similar.

His gaze slowly became contemplative as though he wasn’t he wasn’t entirely sure about you. You did seem inconspicuous enough to build his cover on, so perhaps you could benefit him as an ally indeed. Plus, you seemed to have some sort of personal tiff with the authorities, so that could work into his favour as well. It was very likely that you had just as much to lose as he did should you both be caught.

“I’ll let you live,” he crouched down, loosening the knots but just barely, “on one condition.”

“A way out with a catch?” you attempted to joke. “No way.”

“Are you hearing me out or not?” he sassed, flicking more dirt over you.

“Right, right, sorry,” you piped down, spitting the mud out.

He rolled his eyes as you backed off. “You’ll do as I say and give me cover as I need it. I’ll give you a role and you’ll be my co-star.”

You wowed at his words, “Fancy.”

(That was it for you. You didn’t care anymore. You were ready to stop living in fear of your partner turning your life into a living hell for you. You were ready to escape, to become someone new completely. You weren’t sure what did it exactly, but you sure as hell weren’t going to back away now.)

He nodded once more, finally loosening the knot and helping you up, finding it slightly amusing with how you crawled out of the grave with some struggle. “You’ll be wise to keep this sort of thing up if you want to keep your life.”

“Of course,” you said while trying to secure your grounding, the uneven terrain making your balance wobble a little.

“And now,” he announced as he took a hold of your wrist, leading you back, “you’ll join me on the road. Do as I say and you’ll have a chance, slip up and I’ll snap that pretty neck of yours on the spot.”

“We’re going on a road trip?” you asked, seeming excited to get out of this whole area.

He stared at you, his left eye twitching. “Sort of.”

You shrugged as you then got into the car, happily sliding into the passenger seat without a care in the world as if you weren’t almost buried alive from a killer on the run. He in turn, almost hesitantly got into the car with you, turning the keys and taking a deep breath as though to calm himself down.

In truth, he wasn’t sure if you should be more scared of him.

Or if he should be the one more scared of you.

[xjulixred45x]

I was watching Coraline and out of nowhere this idea came to me...

Platonic yandere! Kenjaku for Geto's child.

like, Geto had a child with Reader (anyone) and everything was happiness in a certain way, Geto and Reader loved and cared a lot about their baby, and the family loved them, they taught them the "proper" way of seeing the world, everything was fine until the events of the JJK0 Movie. Geto dies, Reader may even suffer the same fate.

and poor (child's name) is devastated, but they is taken care of by Mimiko and Nanako (their dear older sisters) and everything goes WELL, not great, but good.

but then Kenjaku possesses Geto's body. Consequently, he finds out about the existence of (child name), and since the child could inherit Geto's cursed ritual, he decides to see if this is the case to see if it is worth it.

What he didn't expect was to start to care in some way about the child, maybe it was because of Geto's body, but he definitely started to have some interest in the child apart from their possible usefulness.

stalking them became a normal ritual for him, in a way taking note of certain "important aspects" that he said would help him if the child came under his wing (which was really just making sure the child ate well or if they was physically healthy), things they were allergic to, he even searched Geto's memory for things they liked and didn't like, all to have a profile of the child.

So, when Mimiko and Nanako appear to him, he KNOWS that (child's name) is nearby, and decides to take the chance. He disappears in front of them and they quickly realize what he was trying to do and go to look for (child's name). but when they find them, they are running straight to their ""father"" and Kenjaku says goodbye to the twins with his shit-eating smile.

The girls yell at (child's name) something, but they're is so happy and glad that somehow their father is alive after a year of anguish, but then they realizes something, the way he hugs them, how he refers to them, and when they look at him and see THAT scar...they realize that they made a big mistake.

that THING is not their father....

Kenjaku is still smiling, but he is in "character" and asks them if they are not happy, but they turn away (or try to) and say the OBVIOUS...he is not their father.

Now, what does this have to do with Coraline? well, precisely the scene in which the other mother transforms for the first time.

Something similar would happen with (child's name) and Kenjaku, who continues to treat them as if they were father and child, introduces them as such to Mahito, Jogo, Hanami and Choso, talks to them like Geto used to do, makes them participate in the games he has with his colleagues, etc.

and (child's name) IS FED UP. Fed up with this man-thing holding them against their will, using the body of their ACTUAL FATHER, ripping them away from the twins and the Family that REALLY loved them, and they feels this is a twisted game for Kenjaku.

So he goes and tells him exactly that, that they are FED UP OF HIM, that they want HIM TO LET THEM LET GO, THAT THEY WANT TO RETURN TO THE TWINS AND THEIR REAL FAMILY.

Now, even after everything, they were never "mean" to Kenjaku, mostly out of fear and uncertainty of the situation, so Kenjaku is a little shocked by this change of attitude, but he's definitely a little irritated that make HIM look like the bad guy when it was THEY who ran into his arms (manipulation there, eh, manipulation).

So he gets more serious, and tells (child's name) that "That's no way to talk to your FATHER."

And (child's name) is like "YOU'RE. NOT...MY. FATHER"

(Mahito, Jogo and Hanami look like a surprised pikachu)

AND KENJAKU "APOLOGIZE....AT ONCE...(Child's name)"

"NO"

Kenjaku is losing his patience, and although he loves (child's name) very much (something like that) he stops, stands in front of them and gives them one LAST CHANCE to apologize for their lack of respect.

"I'm going to give you up to the count of THREE"

"ONE..."

"...TWO..."

"....THREE-"

and using his Curse Manipulation, he throws (Child name) a bunch of small curses that while "harmless" are definitely terrifying. The poor child is screaming and crying in horror and Kenjaku leaves them like that for a while so that they can "learn to be a good child"

and when he decides they have had enough, he destroys the curses that tormented them and returns to his normal patient self. When (child's name) goes to him, all scartched, they lets out an almost inaudible "I'm sorry" and Kenjaku just gives them a Headpat and tells them that "we all tend to have bad mood days" and gives them a cookie.

(bastard).

(I also imagine he uses gravity manipulation to make (child's name) go directly to him, or force them to come and give him a hug.)

I imagine that Mimiko and Nanako are constantly not only trying to kill Kenjaku, but also to find out where he is holding (child's name) captive and save them (let's pretend they don't die, please) along with the family.

I think they would only have a chance in the Shibuya arc, when the twins go to claim him for Geto's body, they also claim him for (Child's name), but obviously Kenjaku doesn't comply with either of them.

but fortunately since Dagon is killed, (Child's name) manages to get out to the outside world, asking for help from whoever, that is, Nanami, Maki and Naobito... until Jogo roasts them and tries to grab them.

(Child's name) runs away, but Jogo is hot on their heels, fortunately they manages to run into the twins and SUKUNA (they is not so lucky, the Twins survive! With horrible scars that Sukuna left, but survive).

While Jogo and Sukuna fight, the Twins take (Child's name) away, happy to see them safe and sound again.

although of course, when Kenjaku realizes it, he won't be happy at all.....

(^his live reaction when he found out that (Child's name) run away)

NEXT PART

[molvve]

I absolutely love Uraume's design! And the character themself fascinates me. I spent a long time working on this art, but unfortunately, I'm not satisfied with the result 😭🫠 I don't have many ideas for drawing, so I'm always open to suggestions and experiments.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

*pulls the 45 cents I have to my name out of my pocket and drops them on your table*

I can't believe my name will be forever attached to this but one (1) Kenjaku solo session with Heianera!YN portrait, please

❝ life and death will always lead to love and regret (but you have the answers, and I have the key) ❞

Kenjaku x Heain Era!ftm!reader [one-sided] | Heian Era!ftm!reader x Sukuna Ryomen | r! is a curse-user & sukuna ryomen's concubine, NSFW | sub. bottom. reader (AFAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 4.1K

warnings: creepy/stalker behaviour, Kenjaku is a 'passive'-yandere (in the sense that Sukuna would and will kill him if he tried anything), manipulative behaviour, gore (detailed), Kenjaku jerking off in front of a portrait of r!, very unrequited

authors note: don't be ashamed, Gabriel. I got way too excited writing this and I think that speaks volumes on how I need to get checked, LMAO. On another note - yes, my YN's will always have a harem of men in the JJK-verse because that's what YN (and you, my dear reader) deserve!

I wrote this partially on my phone so bear with me guys...

*song on repeat: Bernadette by IAMX & Rule #34 by Fish in a Birdcage. * YN is described as having long hair because of the heian beauty standard (hair colour and texture not mentioned).

People often compared the years they lived as sand. The hourglass holding it is comparable to the human body. He often thought that metaphor was weak. People — humans — were not hourglasses and their years were not sand. No, no. That’s far too neat for humans.

Humans are messy. They are loud, and chaotic, they defy nature's rules and destroy her for the sake of progress. They had no balance, their compass broke when the synapses in their brains sparked conscious thought.

In that chaos, humans made curses. Or, well, you could argue it who came first but without humans and their silly consciousness — cursed spirits wouldn’t thrive.

People are flesh left under the sun. With their blood drying out, flies and maggots eagerly feast on what they can while the meat greys and rots. That’s a much more appropriate metaphor for a human life. If anything, the hourglass comparison should be used for himself. Constantly turning it over to keep going; uncaring of what kept the sands in confinement so long as it could continue its path.

Down, almost empty, flip, repeat.

Kenjaku had perfected his cursed techniques. He had earned this, he had earned his right to let his curiosities run rampant. He had earned the right to be in the presence of Sukuna Ryomen and you.

“Yuuji, you still owe me for eating my yoghurt from the fridge. It was expensive and it took so long for me to find it!” Nobara huffed. “You might as well just buy some for yourself. I’m labelling my food now.”

Megumi glanced over his shoulder at the lack of reply from the pink-haired boy. Nobara stopping next to him with her brows furrowed, sighing as she looks around for him.

“...I was just talking to myself? Seriously?” she grumbled. Megumi adjusts his grip on the bags. The grocery trips were a good team-building exercise according to Yuuji, a way to get to know each other better. Megumi and Nobara agreed after a particularly harsh mission that aimed directly at their novice team fighting experience.

So far, the results that were yielded from it were found that Nobara had an aversion to pineapples, Megumi had expensive tastes, and Yuuji was very good at budgeting money.

“No, he was right beside you a few minutes ago,” Megumi reached for his phone. Nobara placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she continued to scan the crowd.

A gaggle of businessmen came out from the underground train station and between the crowd of slicked-back hair, desperate combovers, and sweaty bald heads, she spotted him.

Tugging on Megumi’s sleeve, she pointed to him. Yuuji was standing and staring up at some sort of vertical banner. As they both approached, they shared a glance.

“Oi, Itadori,” Nobara placed a hand on his shoulder. Smacked it really. He didn’t budge. There was a dullness to his eyes that unnerved her enough to remove her hand. Megumi tightened his grip on his phone as he called out to him again. She took a look at the banner and her brows furrowed.

It was promoting an opening of someone’s private gallery. Some rich kid’s great-great-grandfather’s collection. The painting they used was of a true beauty. A man with long hair, dressed in the finest robes with a serene barely-there smile. It looked to be more European in nature, the art reminding her of the portraits of giant frilly dresses and puffy shoulder sleeves despite the obviously Japanese clothing, accessory, and manner in which the subject was regaled in the painting.

The banner must have costed a pretty penny considering how much detail they could see. Megumi could practically feel the raised textures the artist had used to mimic the pattern of the traditional robe the man wore. The flow of his hair, the texture and pattern it had; and his lashes were surely not that long in reality.

Megumi tore his gaze to Yuuji.

It was like he was in a trance. His mouth was slightly ajar, his brows furrowed and his hands shaking as his knuckles turned white.

“Itadori?”

Yuuji had long forgotten this. This ache in his chest that he sometimes woke up with. When he reaches for the empty space next to him and finds no one. Those moments in the basement when he watches a historical movie and his chest tightens as the nobles courted one another.

“Do you know the painter or something?” Nobara asks.

No, he wants to say. Not the painter. If he knew who it was that did this portrait, he’d tear their heads off their body. But the man? He knew him.

That hellish grin, that perfect face and most importantly those nightmarish eyes.

You’ve seen dolls, right? Those porcelain ones specifically. The craftsmen who make them, the expensive ones with real human hair. To be left on shelves instead of being played with. They would draw these white dots on the eyes, varnish them even, so their eyes would reflect back. A mimicry of humans, that’s what dolls are. But even then, their eyes still twinkled. Not this man. No. It was devoid of light. Pools of (eye colour) and nothing more. These eyes would swallow up any trace of light and diminish the stars from the sky with just a glance.

Yuuji knew him. His soul knew him. His hand clutches over his heart and his friends watch this with trepidation.

It’s been 2,000 years. Sukuna was no longer human and therefore his memory was not as fickle. He still remembers those moments before dawn; the sight of your bare torso breathing softly as you rested next to him. The sun filtering through the windows and making you appear even more ethereal and deadly. How your brows would pinch seconds before you woke. Those soulless eyes that shot through his very soul.

Sukuna could recognize you even if he was blind. He’d be able to hear you just by feeling your chest rumble. If he had to eat one thing for the rest of his life, your body and flesh would sustain him.

In his Malovent Shrine, whilst he sat on his throne, he’d summon his flames in his palm. There he’d watch as your figure danced across his hand. You’d twirl between his digits, a smile across your face as he watches the imitation of you.

It used to be enough. Lately, the action brings him more contempt then fondness. The flames never quite catch your shape anymore. Constantly shifting. That coyness is gone, mini-you petulantly staying hidden behind his fingers. So he snuffs you out in his fists.

He hates you for making him miss you. A King should not be missing anyone or anything. Yet, as his vessel stands here, Sukuna teeters on the edge of breaking the Unbreakable Vow he’d made with the brat just to gaze upon you.

The painter got your resemblance and it was agony for him.

How could he continue to be without you when he’s seen you again? Days ago, he wanted to kill you for making him delirious and now he wants you back in his arms.

“Itadori.” Megumi’s tone is firmer. Nobara smacks his shoulder again and Yuuji jolts forward, nearly falling until his rigid legs quickly come back to life.

“Huh?”

“Are you alright?” Megumi asks, his thumb hovering over the DIAL button of Gojo Satoru’s number. Yuuji glances at his wrinkled shirt and releases it, confusion painted across his face at the fading pain across his chest.

“I...yeah, yeah. I'm okay. I have no idea what that was....”

Rich bodies made life significantly easier.

What was that saying humans used?

Money can’t buy happiness?

Kenjaku chuckles at the thought. Foolish and vain — typical of humans. Clinging onto whatever they can to convince their egos they’re better than most when they’ll all meet the same fate. Kenjaku forgets the exact point where he stopped seeing himself as one of them, but he’s sure anyone would if you’ve lived as long as him. Apathy. Most call it a disease of selfishness. Kenjaku simply thinks they’re lying to themselves.

“Mr Geto?” the gallery was a lucrative endeavour. A piece in his grand scheme that required little effort but great rewards. More personal gain on his end.

“Mr Hajimoto mentioned you specifically in his will. The private room is all yours. Thank you so much for your donation to this fine institution of arts.” Kenjaku offers the man a polite smile and nod. The awkward silence prompts them to open the large doors and Kenjaku is greeted by you.

(Y/N) (L/N). In all your glory. In his favourite colours and his favourite kanza. The bespoke lighting on your portrait makes his hands fall limply to his side. You were a brushstroke away from taking a breath. The colours used to recreate that undertone your skin had, the delicate curves of your lashes and the plumpness of your lip.

The two guards in the corner of the room are a nuisance. But with a simple twirl of his right hand, the Slit-Mouthed Woman makes quick work of them. This curse technique was truly convenient, the mess she made cleaned up by a different curse who laps at the blood with vigor. The noises are all muffled as he admires those vicious eyes.

Just saying your name makes warmth travel down between his legs.

“I’ve almost forgotten how you look like.”

Silence ticks by for a minute.

Then Kenjaku bursts into laughter. Clutching his stomach and covering his mouth as he does. He can still smell your blood. Even if Suguru’s body had never had the pleasure of touching you — Kenjaku remembers it.

The way it flowed out of you like silk ribbons. Warm and wet and virile.

“You are an unusual sorcerer,” those were the first words you said to him. He knows you meant that in a derisive fashion — the curl of your nose was a clear indicator. But that was the day a feverish need was planted inside of his very soul.

You. You. You.

The shape of your face.

The cadence of your voice.

The way the wind carried your scent to his nose.

The sound of your cat-like foot-steps.

The effortless way you carried yourself despite the heavy robes that a revered concubine of your rank would wear, along with the golden hair accessories that would probably break a lesser man's neck.

It didn't stop there either.

Your brain, the wickedness that ran through your very veins and that fire that burns within you. Kenjaku wanted to be inside of you in every he could fathom. To sit within that perfectly shaped skull, to thread his fingers between the locks of your hair and take a scalpel to that skin he so craves to taste. Or perhaps inside in the traditional sense, between your legs, embraced by your warm insides and your deadly arms.

Kenjaku ponders on the time he has. He decides that he should indulge in you. He undoes the robes this body wore and sighs as it reveals the torso. Bodies were all the same but he does appreciate the care Geto Suguru took into his temple — there was no need for shame when he's already desecrated this corpse so viscerally already. His hands travel down his torso and that pronounce v-line and past the patch of wiry pubic hair.

You make him feel young again. Reckless and stubborn. Your eyes watch him as he leisurely spits into his palm and strokes it over the tip.

Evil is such a lame word. So primitive in its nature, another one of human's attempts at letting go of responsibility. If something or someone were evil, they were inherently irredeemable. Humans used to call snakes evil simply for doing what a snake would do when hungry, instead of realising they shouldn't have left the door to their huts opened and their sleeping brat asleep.

Was something evil when it simply did what it was meant to do?

They were simply following natures course.

This act Kenjaku is doing now, is not perverted or evil, he is simply being. Simply living, existing, relishing.

If anything, you were the undoing. The evil. You've made, and continue to make, him lose crave and hunger. You were so cruel, so ethereal — so evil.

Kenjaku groaned your name, walking backwards and dropping onto the low seat the gallery provided. His legs spread and he hung his head down but his eyes remained affixed to your painting.

"He sounds beautiful, Mr Hajimoto," the blonde painter had told him once or twice or thrice. Young but talented, the way he used his brushes on canvas was so impressive and Kenjaku missed you so much (Y/N). He simply had to spread the wickedness of your beauty, immortalize it forever within canvases and lesser non-sorcerers minds.

"Did you know him?" his accent was clunky, the Japanese language tumbling on its delicate legs following the rhythm of the painters voice. Still, he — Mr Hajimoto, Kenjaku — gave him a gentle grin.

"Very well. He was my lover."

The small notebook the painter had written your features down in, it was displayed in this very room as well. In a glass casing, handled with gloves to ensure pesky skin oils wouldn't deteriorate his inked strokes.

Speaking of strokes, Kenjaku's was beginning to pick up it's pace. His smile now looser, like an animal that caught the scent of blood, his tongue curled over his teeth as he imagined the disgust on your face. You'd probably cover your nose with the sleeve of your robe and the thought makes his cock jump; you were wearing his favourite colours and it made him moan.

The notebook was filled with sketches of you. Kenjaku recalls correcting the human, correcting him when he disrupted the harmony of your anatomy. You were the humans muse for years, (Y/N). Even as he neared his death bed, the blonde artist kept drawing you. Sketches lose, your shape less tangible, but hauntingly beautiful. Like your dark flames flowing in the wind. Even as his memories of his life escapes him, the artist remembered you. What a blessing. Kenjaku had visited him before he died and whispered your name into the old man's ear.

Sorcerer Society keeps your name hidden. It's their way of control. Making Sukuna Ryomen more monstrous by telling others he ruled coldly and cruelly alone; death was not as harsh as being erased. They say Sukuna needed 20 of his fingers and his mummified heart to be revived. That's what those poems talked about after all.

A misunderstanding.

The heart was Sukuna's, yes.

But it wouldn't revive him.

"You were so angry," he chuckled out, "so defiant even when I was inside of you."

The sky was blood red, the black smoke making the colour more saturated as it seemed intent on blotting out the sun. Uraume had felt a sudden chill, you did too, and they swiftly rose as the scent of deceit was so thick in the air.

“Uraume,” your voice remained nonchalant. But there was a tenseness in your throat that even they could decipher through the layers of regality. They turned, mouth pressed into a thin line as they went on their knees.

You continued to stare, impassively looking down at the patterned swirl of their snow-white hair. The red and black sky turning the colour of your eyes a pleasantly mournful shade; the golden kanza in your hair that your Lord Sukuna himself had commissioned for you glimmered righteously. The teeth of a beast, the curling of centipede legs, and the melded wings of a raven. It was beautiful just as much as it was unusual.

“You leave your Lord’s prized possession to fend for himself?”

Uraume lips reveal a modest amount of teeth. Their face like a porcelain doll as they raise their head. It makes your heart flutter and squeeze.

“You are stronger than these worms, they wouldn’t dare attack you.”

This is true. A fact. You were strong. 100 sorcerers or 1, 000 sorcerers — it made no difference to you. They’d turn into dust and wither right before you. But it shocks Uraume when you place your palm against their jaw, thumb stroking over their cheekbone as you gaze down at them.

“How horrid it is, making me defend myself.”

They see your eyes soften. It was no wonder you were Lord Sukuna’s concubine. Just being touched by you, looked down upon by you; it makes their spine melt.

“I should have your head for your insolence.”

Uraume apologizes, lips stilling when your thumb presses down on them.

“Return to me. Whole. My Lord Husband and I will not be pleased if you do not. We don’t want weaklings to stand behind us.”

Uraume bows, their lips kissing your knuckles as they do before they raise and disappear from your sight. The screams of terror that are heard outside at the sight of them make you slip your eyes close.

Kenjaku appeared before you what felt like hours later. He looks at the scene with a raise of his brow. Your feet were soaked in blood as bodies were strewn across the wide room. The floor was shimmering, looking as though it was breathing as it creaked from his weight. The clothes the bodies wore painted a clear enough picture — they were your servants. Loyalties were swayed as the fight prolonged. These little ants thought they could save themselves from punishment if they showed these righteous sorcerers your head.

He couldn’t smell smoke and there were no signs of charring. The bodies were mangled beyond belief, guts spilling out, eyes gouged, arms bent unnaturally.

Yet, in the gore and horror, you stood across from him with only your feet stained by traitorous blood.

You were a vision. Delicately wiping away blood from the tiger claw kanza with the sleeve of a dead servant. Then, he watches as you carefully put it back in place atop your hair.

“Kenjaku.”

He bows his head, bending at his waist, then lifts himself up again.

“The Kamo clan, your clan, joined this rebellion. I feel that should be a good enough reason to kill you.” The fire in your eyes makes his heart race. He moves forward, casually stepping over a torn torso.

“That would be unwise,” he gives you a grin. This body of his is new. The stitches are still fresh and red. Most likely a desperate attempt of his to hide away while they destroyed his old body. The corpse is younger, and more plain-looking. Despite it’s Curse Technique being a mystery, you’ll take your chances at strangling him.

“I’ve come at the behest of your Lord Husband. To ensure your longevity.”

Your brows pinch. Kenjaku delights at the creases it creates, tucking away this sight into his memories for lonely nights. Then, you scowl.

“You lie.”

His giddiness is palpable. The wide grin on the corpse’s face is clearly not his own; cheeks lifted too high and smile too large and unnatural. Kenjaku must’ve been a truly ugly man with a truly ugly grin. The body struggles to adjust to this display of amusement.

“I’m not.”

He takes a step forward and you lift your hand. The standstill would’ve lasted longer if it weren’t for the yells and thunderous footsteps clambering up to your room.

“You lie!”

Dark flames roared out from the windows. The heat so smoldering it causes a burst of hot air to knock back the men on the stairs, burning their skin and face. The blood on the floor boils, the iron scent now more acidic as the once fleshy bodies now crumble into dust.

You feel his breathe against the nape of your neck. As you turn, he wrings his arms around you like a snake. One across your stomach, the other around your shoulder. That horrible smile is pressed against your skin.

“Kenjaku,” you growl through gritted teeth.

“That’s right. Say my name.”

Fighting feels a lot like sex.

Kenjaku can feel your passion behind every strike, the bruises you leave behind on his skin are akin to hickeys. When you yell out and scream, cheeks so hot he can feel the rush of blood to your face just from looking — the rapid pulse you have and the way your face is contorted.

Kenjaku pins you down. Your legs are thrown over his own while you gnash your teeth at him and spit insults his way. Your hair was so beautiful, thrown back around your head like a lion’s mane. He slides your wrists above your head and holds them with one hand while the other undoes the meticulous array of folds your kimono had.

Sweat drips down his nose. It’s all your fault. Using your Curse Technique in this room, charring the wood and setting it all aflame. Still, he could work in this conditions.

“Ah,” he moans at the sight of your bare skin. Watching the rise and fall of your chest, licking his lips as he places a hand over your heart.

When you kick at his stomach, he acts like he cannot feel it. When you kick again, this time hard enough for a loud crack to be heard, he looks at you.

“If you kill me, you will break the Binding Vow you and Ryomen had made with me.”

He feels your feet dig into his rib, the spiderwebs of cracks spreading further. He allows this with a pleased hum. Your ragged breathing all at once calms and with a blink, your eyes lose that unbridled fury.

“You dare say my Lord’s name so casually?”

Kenjaku laughs. As he leans down, he presses his forehead to yours. Your nose curls in disgust but you keep your lips pursed. The feeling of his sweat sliding down the sides of your forehead and dipping to travel the side of your nose; threatening to get into your eyes as it slips just beneath it.

“Forgive me, venerable concubine.” Kenjaku does not mean this. When he presses his fingers together and imbues his hand with Curse Energy. He enjoys it.

Slicing through your skin at a pace that made the cut more ghastly then it would be if it was done quickly. You remained stone-faced while Kenjaku chewed on his lower lip, every twitch or squint just fueling his hunger.

He is past your skin and now he sees the yellow, when he twists his wrist you grunt as he slices through the threads of muscles. He spreads his fingers and your teeth part as you let out a strained yell.

"You can be louder if you want," his lips brush against your cheek every time he speaks.

"When I return, I'll take pleasure in ripping your head off your body."

"Threatening me?"

He reaches bone. His finger scratching against it before he peels away and settles between your legs. Your hands aren't pinned but you do nothing but curl your fingers into fists as he shoves another hand into your chest. The squelching and pulsing of your flesh, the bursts of blood from your throbbing veins and pumping heart. The wetness and warmth of your insides. He can feel your body clenching around him, and he convinces himself its because you truly enjoy this depravity just as he does.

The size of his hands in your chest is unbearably uncomfortable. Invading you, filling you when you want nothing more than to burn him, as he moves his digits and wrists within you.

He grasps onto your bones and breaks it under the pressure of his wrist. Your blood is spraying him, staining his clothes.

"Your blood looks like ribbons," he whispers to you, "even your insides are like works of art."

You want this to be over with already.

Your arms move down, eyes still set in a glare. You slip your fingers under the soaked clothing and spread it apart further to reveal more of your skin. Shimmying your shoulders so your torso is now bare of any clothing.

The tent between his legs pressed into your crotch. It's hard to ignore, but you push through and grasp onto his elbow and force him to go in deeper.

"Promising you."

Kenjaku's elbow straightens sharply and he moans as he feels your heart beating in his palm. He pulls it out of your body, panting as your eyes slip close and your heart slows. Beating slowly...slowly...slowly...

Kenjaku moans at the memory of your heart in his hands. Your warm blood coating his skin, drying under his nails and crackling in the creases of his joints.

"I wanted to keep you on me forever," he grunts out as his pace gets faster. "The smell of you, of your flesh."

"I didn't need your body, but it was too beautiful not to be admired."

Kenjaku throws his head back, placing his palm across his nose and lips as he sifts through his memories so he can conjure it all over again.

The painting watches on impassively. The croons and purrs of Geto Suguru's cursed spirits echo faintly in Kenjaku's ears while his hips thrusts into his own fist. It's desperate. He usually isn't like this. Even when he was creating the Death Womb Paintings — even when his plans are so close to coming into fruition.

You make him like this. Make him lose control, every thought poisoned with you even when you're nothing more than a mummified heart hidden so desperately away by Sorcerer Society.

"I've gotten a lead," Uraume had informed him just a few days ago. "They've hidden him in the ocean in an underwater research facility."

"Underwater, hah, they think it'll keep your flames contained. Keep your loyal servant away as if the depths of the ocean is enough to scare them, us — Oh, (Y/N)."

His fist stops and Kenjaku stands, removing his clothing fully as he places a hand against the wall of the gallery. The textured wall, the grooves, give way to his nails as he digs them in. He stares into your eyes, imagining the crease of your furrowed brow and Kenjaku groans out your name as he cums all over the wall.

"...Oh, I can't wait to see you again, venerable concubine."

[horizondemise]

Kenjaku and Mahito in Unexpected Places: Outside of the Box (horror)

(Quick claustrophobia/scopophobia warning!)

Stirring awake from a deep sleep, your pulse rapidly accelerates at the sight before you. The shiny, nearly transparent surface feels smooth beneath your hands when you lift them. Pressing your fingertips against it, you desperately try to push at the glass, but it's no use. You can feel it on your left and right, just close enough to brush against your elbows.

There are holes in the glass, just big enough to let in air, but your breath is shallow despite this. Quick little pants as panic sets in and you bang your fists against the glass. It runs down the length of your body and if you could draw a leg up to kick, it would slam against the sole of your foot. The glass box full encases you, like you're a butterfly on display. You soon see them approaching and your fear grows tenfold.

You've heard other sorcerers talk about the stitched curse with the long grayish-blue hair, but you've never seen him for yourself. As he approaches the box with his companion, you press your back tighter against the cushions beneath you in the glass box. The hammering of your pulse in your ears overlaps their words as the two draw closer. There's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from their prying eyes.

The curse crouches down, a grin spreading across his face when he peers down at you. One blue eye, one gray eye. Stitches decorate his face and arms, like a twisted form of body modification or tattoos. When he presses a hand against the glass, you jolt and a childish sort of laugh escapes him.

"I trust that you approve of my choice?" The question comes from the curse's companion. The man with long black hair and dark, narrowed eyes. The man with stitches running across his forehead. The man that was supposed to have died.

"Getou..." You speak his name without meaning to and your blood runs cold when he tilts his head. The curse's eyes slide from you to the human standing on the other side of the box. Closing your eyes, you bite the inside of your cheek and your hands curl into tight fists at your sides.

"You know me?" Getou's tone is soft, but borders on mocking. "Well, it doesn't matter." Crouching down, he taps the glass to urge you to open your eyes again. There's a taunting smile drawing at his lips as he brings his face closer. "We'll become reacquainted soon enough."

"I want to tell her the plan," the curse finally speaks up. A sort of pouting frown settles on his features as he drums his fingers against the glass.

"Fine. I won't spoil your fun, Mahito." Getou's eyes are locked with yours, even as he leans back. When his gaze begins to lower, you can't help but squirm beneath the glass. His eyes wander over your trapped figure, your body hidden only by the thin pajamas you were wearing when he must have taken you.

Mahito sees you looking at Getou and knocks a fist against the side of the box to drag your attention back to him. As soon as your eyes meet, he grins. "You're going to help us with a little experiment, okay? I want to see if I can turn a sorcerer into a curse. And if you survive, you'll get to join us. You should really consider yourself lucky."

Leaning closer, there's almost a fondness in the way he looks at you. "I've wanted to try this for a while. I'm happy that Getou picked you for my first try." Mahito's face hovers just above yours, separated only by that layer of glass. "I really wanted to get a closer look at you, since the first time I saw you. And now I have you in a display case. I get to look at you as much as I want!"

"She's only going to be in there until the time comes," Getou reminds him. Stroking the glass with his fingertips, he smirks. "Although, it wouldn't be a terrible idea to take her out for a while. I think we both want to have a chance to play with her before she changes."