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strawberrystepmom · 4 months

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pairing: Kenjaku x F!Reader, past Geto Suguru x F!Reader

word count: 3.6k

about: you become kenjaku's captive to ensure that he will not miss his opportunity to fight the strongest after his return from the prison realm. the temptation of being this close to the last remaining earthly fragment of the man you once loved, suguru, proves too much to resist and you give into your desires despite the hole they're bound to leave.

contents: NSFW - MINORS DNI. DARK CONTENT WARNING, MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS FOR CH 236 AND BEYOND | dubcon, manipulation, violence against reader, asphyxiation, kidnapping | reader is a sorcerer and went to school with geto and they had mutual feelings for one another, mentions of religion and references to god, kenjaku retained some of geto's memories and knows reader through them, reader has breasts and descriptions of vaginal anatomy are given, rough piv sex with little prep, reader is referred to as "girl", major character death (off screen).

notes: i've uh....been going through some things lately LMAO tbh i started this awhile back before thanksgiving but have felt weird about posting it and it very nearly stayed in the "between me and god" folder so i held back but today i said fuck it. if you read, thanks and i hope you enjoy!!!

header art is by jenny holzer and divider is by @/cafekitsune ♡

“The old occupant of this vessel was very fond of you, you know?”

How dare Kenjaku mention Suguru so casually, as if he were a tenant to his own flesh and bone instead of its rightful owner?

“You know nothing about him,” The words are full of venom, flying from your mouth not unlike the way you spat at the curse user’s face two days prior to now. He chuckled when the fluid hit his cheek, wiping it off without a second thought. “Or me.”

You felt so guilty for spitting at his face, the face of a man you once believed that you loved, that you wept until you began to dry heave atop the futon mattress in the room that has been designated as yours. It’s the same bed you rest on now, duvet over your knees that are hiked to your chest. It’s a means to protect yourself from any vulnerability but it’s truly no use. If Kenjaku wants to harm you, he will.

He has insisted your accommodations be comfortable since arriving three days ago given you are collateral and not a captive, his own clever wording for the situation, but you’re more than aware that if you were to attempt to escape from the cage that you’d hit the window just as all birds hungry for a taste of freedom do. There are no cuffs, chains, or bars but your freedom is no longer yours. It is a prize to be won pending the defeat of the man standing across from you in the doorway, shoji door open beside him, flowing hair as dark as the midnight sky brushing the backs of his elbows.

For years you wondered what you’d do if faced with Suguru again. Would you strike him, insisting he deserved it for all the hurt left in his wake? Ask him why in a scream so powerful your shoulders would shake with the weight of your fury? Perhaps you’d forgive him, as you’d been taught and encouraged to do your entire life, and those mumbled prayers cast to the God you believe in above you would be true for the first time since they’ve left your treacherous lips.

“I forgive him, I hope you can, too.” You have begged God aloud and silently since sixteen years old. You have always been devout in your faith despite abandoning most of the tenets that make someone a believer, your lack of devotion not enough to deter you from selfishly asking for absolution for a man who you know deserves none.

God’s answer is clear when faced with the fact that this is not Geto standing in front of you. There is no less mercy a person can be shown than their body being used as a sick prop after their death.

The space where his thoughts and dreams and hopes used to lie is occupied by something far worse than just visions of a world purified through means of violence, a place where people like you could live without the threat of death and sacrifice to keep others safe. Granted, that wasn’t exactly a noble purpose either, but at least it didn’t threaten your life the way that whatever lives inside of his skull does now.

“I know more about both of you than you think.”

Kenjaku’s words drip with smugness and your stomach flips. The natural responses of your body to a man who looks and sounds just like Suguru make you sick but you cannot focus on fighting them off and keeping yourself protected at the same time, you have to simply make peace with the butterflies in your stomach that feels like something is punching you in the gut over and over again. He dares enter the room and you scoot further up the futon, hitting the wall behind you and leveling a glare in his direction.

Suguru’s body reacts to you, as well, something that Kenjaku planned long ago to use to his advantage. It started with hazy dreams, a face he recognized as yours drifting through them, your thighs and your lips and your skirt. It’s a version of you a little younger, a little warmer - less edgy than you are now. You are sharp and finely tuned to harm while the version of you that lived in Geto’s mind will forever stay soft, a freshly unfurled rose.

“All you’ve done is vandalize him,” you accuse and he shrugs, dressed in a cotton yukata rather than the robes he stole in addition to the body they dressed. It’s easy to imagine another life where this is Suguru and you are you and he’s coming to your shared bedside, kneeling on the ground the same way Kenjaku is now while he invites himself to the only space you currently have as your own.

“You’re a smart girl, don’t play dumb.” Your glance moves from the doorway to him, disgusted by how brave he is getting this close to you. “Perhaps I’m simply using the power this body holds in the way he was too cowardly to attempt.”

Despite your current state of sitting in nothing but a yukata yourself, you are physically strong from spending the last decade of your life as nothing more than a glorified weapon to use in the fight against evil. Even if your Cursed Technique would be unlikely to have any effect on the man, you could be a difficult problem for him if you wanted to be, yet you sit and do nothing but wait and refuse to respond to his words. He chuckles at your stubbornness and reaches across the bed and your body to grab your chin between his thumb and index finger. He shifts your head until you’re staring directly at him and a smile crosses his lips.

You do not fight him off.

“Tell me, sorcerer,” he starts and you swallow, bottom lip quivering. You want to reach out and slap him away, to scream and kick but your body stays still, the only place blood is pooling between your legs and in the heat of your face. “Where are those teeth and claws you were so eager to show me on your first night here?”

He reaches his thumb upward and presses it against your mouth, stopping the shake with a single touch - your body’s natural reaction to a man you are now certain you loved, given it’s the only explanation for your behavior. It’s a form of trust, the muscle memory of a kiss he gave you in your dorm room at the school you once shared. The first night you were spitting and hissing, now you’re so placid.

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

Stubbornly, you shake your head and Kenjaku chuckles again, pulling his thumb away from your lip but maintaining the grip on your chin. You know this is not Suguru, it’s as clear as the stitches across the forehead of the practically empty vessel that further closes in on you. He moves silently until he’s mere inches away from you, his head hovering over your knees that are still pulled against your chest. You watch him with narrowed eyes, tucking against yourself tighter than you ever have as a means of comfort, but it does nothing to stop him from lingering.

“I could just make you speak if I wanted to,” he warns. The power in this situation belongs to him.

“What’s the point of fighting you? You’re going to do whatever you want with me anyway.” You admit, defeated. Whatever fight you had left in you was smothered weeks ago during the attack on Shibuya. Even the release of Gojo is not enough to fill you with hope for the future. It’s pointless to keep fighting when the only outcome is going to be loss.

The shaky sound of your voice makes the curse user move closer to you and you shut your eyes tightly, refusing to look at him lest your body continue with these inexplicable natural responses. Heart pounding against your chest, it’s inexplicably frustrating that it cannot seem to separate what your brain knows is true from what your body wants to believe.

It isn’t him, you scream within the confines of your own mind but it does not prevent your palms from feeling clammy and the squeeze of your inner thighs against each other to provide some relief against the heat in your core.

It isn’t him. It isn’t him. It isn’t him…

Chanting the words internally, you open your eyes and are met with a pair of golden ones staring directly at you. They’re the same that stared at you in a dorm room a decade ago although they’re missing the warmth they had back then, dripping honey sweetness hidden in the irises turned to tar.

“You’re right, I can.” He nods and dark hair falls over his eyes, catching your eye. Your stomach turns when you spot the stitches across his forehead but your gaze returns to his so quickly you can hardly think about it. “But will it be what I want or is it what this body desires, I wonder?”

This piques your interest and Kenjaku tilts his head to the side inquisitively, dark hair sweeping over your knees and around your body. It feels like a curtain, a veil like the ones you are so used to using to keep people safe and ignorant and outside of your world of sorcery.

“What do you mean?”

A smirk is the response you are granted and he moves closer to you, one of his hands reaching for the duvet you’re using to cover you. Pulling it back gently, your robe covered body coming into view and once again, you make no effort to fight. With this barrier removed, he runs his palm over the outside of your thigh. Muffling your whimper at the touch, you attempt to hide your face in your shoulder but he stops you, still grasping onto your chin and still holding your gaze.

“Interesting.”

His hand travels from the outside of your thigh to the insides and you gently spread them to allow him access before realizing what he’s searching for. Attempting to cut off his access by closing your legs, he holds your thigh in place and lets his fingers dip lower along the soft skin. You quiver and shake beneath him like a leaf clinging to the branches of a tree in winter, desperate for somewhere to remain, and those fingers inch closer and closer to your core. He stops when he feels the coarse hair covering your mound and dares to dip a single fingertip between your folds, raising his eyebrows when he feels the arousal seeping from you.

“I knew it,” he whispers so low you wonder if you were even meant to hear it but the way he gazes at you, like that of a man starved, tells you that the words were meant for no one but you.

Your hand shakes as much as the rest of you when you finally lift it from your side, reaching out to him and taking a strand of hair between your fingers. It feels just as you imagined it would, silk between your digits, and a breathy sigh leaves you before you begin to cry. Dropping the small strand, you choose to reach out toward his forehead and use your hand to block the stitches covering it.

“Suguru.”

You babble the name like it is precious, your lip quivering just as it did before, and the evil man shakes his head, capturing your wrist with the hand he just removed from your chin. He lowers your hand enough that you can see the stitches unobscured.

“Kenjaku, actually.”

He lowers your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles, amused when you squirm where you sit, practically delirious with lust and confusion. You do not want this, at least that’s what you tell yourself while parting your legs further and panting, chest heaving with every breath.

Wordlessly, he uses his free hand to untie your robe and it falls off of your shoulders, exposing you to him fully before he can blink. This is something he remembers seeing in one of those dreams but you look different than whatever the imagination of a man who was infatuated with you was able to come up with during his loneliest hours. It amuses Kenjaku that he is the one to see you like this, bare and willing.

Tracing down your belly and lower, he stops between your legs which makes you whimper. You’re so desperate to be touched, to pretend he is someone you’ll never have the opportunity to love as properly as you could have if you’d both lived a different life, that your hips actually arch off of the bed eagerly. It should embarrass you but you are past the point of humiliation, willing to be fucked by evil incarnate just for the sake of a taste of Suguru Geto.

“Pathetic little thing,” he coos and you say nothing in return. You’re well aware of your failings as a sorcerer and a human being as his fingers spread your labia to get a glance at what you have to offer. For a moment, you consider praying for Suguru again; to selfishly beg God to make sense of your own actions but you know that he no longer has mercy for an ill behaved member of his flock. You will simply accept the consequences, whatever they will be.

His thumb brushes your clit and you moan, tipping your head back and toward the ceiling. You wait for the sensation of pleasure to climb through you again but it doesn’t come until you look downward again, eyes fluttering open.

“Eyes on me or you get nothing.”

Too afraid to look away lest it keep you from the only good thing you’ve felt in who knows how long, you keep your eyes glued to Kenjaku’s face while his hand works between your legs, spreading the slick from your cunt toward your clit and back down. If you could just shut your eyes, you could pretend, but they’re open and glued between your legs, watching every feathery stroke of his fingers through your folds.

Kenjaku’s cock hardens against your thigh and for a moment you dare to feel powerful knowing you aren’t the only one surrendering to the most base of your needs. He drops your hand and reaches for the tie of his robe, opening it and giving you the only look you’ve ever been lucky enough to get of Suguru’s bare body.

Scarred, honed, a tool - just like yours. If you weren’t so lost in the moment, the lifetimes you have imagined for years would be playing through your mind.

You gasp and knit your brows together, bucking against the increasing pressure of Kenjaku’s fingers while he brings you back to him and out of your head. Whatever you’re thinking about doesn’t matter when he inserts a finger inside of you, only testing how wet you are with no intention of preparing you for his cock.

When he’s satisfied with how wet you are, he withdraws his finger and you whine. The sound is the most he has heard from you since the first night and it makes his eyes widen in interest. He shifts until he is standing between your spread knees and the realization that this is really happening hits you at once, your face flaming with desire.

“You’re so impatient.”

The curse user tuts at you with a roll of his eyes and spreads your legs as wide as they can go to accommodate the width of his body. He’s broad in shoulder and hip and you bite your lower lip when he runs the head of his cock through your folds, following the same pattern of his fingers. You expect the teasing to last longer but it stops abruptly. Before you can take a breath to prepare yourself, his cock is buried to the hilt inside of you, and you gasp with wide eyes, shocked.

“As good as you imagined?”

Words come to your mind but do not form enough to leave your mouth while he thrusts roughly, your body jerking violently against his. It’s painful, the size of him with little prep in conjunction with how he uses your body as nothing more than a glorified place to take his aggression out, but all of the numbness within you thaws and for the first time since you realized Geto was no longer Geto in Shibuya, you feel.

It’s hard to name all the emotions you are experiencing because they blur into something barely comprehensible. Pleasure and pain and bone chilling sorrow, the kind that makes tears silently drip down your face while he takes what he wants from you. He doesn’t bother to play with your clit and there is no need to, the joy you’re taking simply from being used by Suguru’s body enough that the knot inside of you is slowly beginning to unravel.

Skin on skin punctuated by his low grunts and your whines fill the small room and you are so lost, you lift yourself halfway up to meet Kenjaku and consider kissing him. Would it be close enough to kissing Suguru that you could eventually justify it or would it just sully the one good memory you have of him?

You don’t have long to think about it before you are pushed back down to the bed, one of his hands caging your throat and keeping you pinned to the bed below. A reminder that this is for his pleasure and not yours although you feel yourself coming closer to the edge than you were just moments prior, shutting your eyes tightly. All of the motion inside of you stops, the hard thrusts of his cock ending, and your eyes shoot open.

“Remember what I said. Eyes on me or you get nothing.”

Nodding, you keep them open and he begins again, pace rougher than before. You can do nothing but grunt and struggle to breathe, his cock carving out space inside of you that didn’t exist until he entered you. Every kiss of his tip against your insides knocks the breath out of you and finally you cum in a strangled moan, walls quivering around his length.

His hand inches further up your throat and squeezes experimentally. As expected, you do not fight back and he takes his indulgence with a grin, choking you with varying degrees of pressure and feeling your cunt spasm around him when he surprises you by tightening his grip.

You like this. You want this.

He leans forward and shifts his weight to his arm and hand, finally spilling inside of you with a deep moan. Warmth fills every inch of you and you wish that you felt as full in your heart as you do in your cunt but a void remains.

Kenjaku’s other hand slides up your body and wraps around your neck, both of his palms resting on either side of your neck and fingers splaying over your throat. It’s dangerous to let him have this much access to any part of you that he could possibly crush but you do not move, tearfully looking up at him and sniffling. He increases his pressure, not enough to harm you, but enough to make you work hard and you realize how easily he could just…end this.

“Please kill me,” you beg while struggling to breathe, realizing what you’ve done now that the afterglow of orgasm can no longer protect you from the cold hard truth.

You are a betrayer. You slept with the enemy to sate your own selfish desires and death seems almost too kind to beg for, yet you do.

“Kill me.”

Your face turns in shade and your vision is dotted with darkness, a miserable end to a miserable life you consider, but at least it will be over. The pressure of Kenjaku’s hands around your neck continues to increase until you are certain you are taking your last breath, lungs aching until he abruptly stops. He glances down from where he rests above you, half swollen cock softening and letting his cum leak out around the tip of it that is still inside of you and onto the sheets below.

“I will not give you the satisfaction of death until you give me the satisfaction of watching you fight for it.”

Removing his hands from around your throat completely, he glances down at the pressure indentions of his fingers with a smile. Your eyes flutter shut, you’ve passed out from lack of air, and he admires the heap he has left you in, reaching for your robe and wiping the remnants of his release and yours on the corner of it.

Nobody is coming to save you, a secret Kenjaku knows that you are not yet aware of. Satoru Gojo is dead, defeated at the hands of Sukuna. The news broke this morning and he was preparing to come to your room to let you know until this little distraction occurred. He had an inkling you were susceptible to Suguru Geto’s charms even from beyond the grave but he had no idea it would be this easy, your slumped form resting on the futon beside him. He pats your head as one would a treasured dog, long and loving strokes that do not stir you, your bare breasts swaying slightly with every breath you take.

The new world is on the horizon and he may keep you around as a plaything for a little longer than he originally intended.

#kenjaku x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #kendall writes

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kimageddon · 1 year

Text

Sins of the Father - 3:1

Maul x Nightsister OC (Zaiya Valessa) - Modern/Crime AU - Sins of the Father Masterlist

Word Count: Approx 1400 Contains/Warnings: Brief making out. Chapter Summary: Padme Amidala readies for the election, and has a visit from someone close to her. Notes: HAPPY HOLIDOOS & MERRY CRIMBUS! (more notes at the end)

Chapter 3 - Falling to Temptations

He walks beside you like shadow

Despite the path you will follow

You deny what lives inside

This feeling that you wish to hide

Your buried heart lies deep

To not allow this love to seep

And yet to look into his eyes

You see in them your own demise

The tears are falling to the ground

This pain within, forever bound

You reach to grasp the dying light

You cannot fall or lose fight

You yearn for all you’ve given up

Too late you see what you have done

Undeserving of this love

Perhaps what’s there will be enough

══════════════════

Behind the Curtain

“I think the plum suit, ma’am,” the young woman said, holding up the two different suits, one a dusty purple and the other a sleek black. “Plum gives a warm trusting feel,”

Padme Amidala looked over the two choices, reaching out to caress the sleeve of the purple one. A small smile crossed her lips after a moment and she nodded.

“Thank you Tekla, I think you’re right,” she said as she met her aide’s eyes. The younger woman beamed, glad to know her opinion was accepted. Tekla took the purple suit and headed to the closet on the far side of the room where she hung it on the inside of the door for Padme to change into later.

The big debate was not far off, and if she were honest, she was looking forward to it. She’d not seen Mayor Palpatine for a very long time, and this debate would be the first time she would face him during this campaign. Once she had admired him, but she had become quite disillusioned in recent years with the lack of progress in the city. Not just financially but in infrastructure, health care and unemployment. All the money seemed to go into security and the Police, yet the figures Padme was hearing indicated that crime was actually rising. There were robberies, gangs and corruption, she had seen too many people in pain and left destitute, she had stepped up to the podium for them. For justice.

She knew there was only so much she could do but… she had to try. The system was too fraught with corruption and Palpatine seemed blind to it… or worse, was a part of it. She’d heard the rumours but they were few and hardly proven. She could hardly believe they were anything other than vast exaggerations.

The young candidate returned her attention to her papers, looking over some of the campaign notes from her manager. She took a seat at her desk, picked up a red pen and added a few items of her own. Tekla returned to her sorting of the letters that had come in for Padme, letters of thanks or endorsement, even pleas for help, it was so important for the young politician.

They had so much to prepare for before the election. Filming a new campaign ad, a few small appearances, an interview and then of course the debate. There was so much she needed to do, the last thing she could afford right now was any form of distraction.

Knock Knock!

“Padme?”

Padme looked up, her brown eyes widening. She knew that voice! Her face lit up like a beacon and she pushed herself to her feet and hurried over to the door, throwing it open at once.

“Anakin!” she beamed, managing to stop herself from throwing her arms around him. There he stood, broad shouldered, sandy brown hair swept back off his face, blue eyes gleaming and that boyish grin she loved so much ever-present on his face.

She stepped back and let him in, his sharp eyes spotting Tekla immediately.

“Miss Sparum,” he nodded in greeting, charming as ever. Tekla gigged and grinned.

“Mister Skywalker,” she replied sweetly. She flashed Padme a look as he passed her, and fanned herself slightly. Padme just chuckled and Tekla knew what to do.

“I’ll just… let you have a moment, shall I?” she said with a knowing wink to her boss. Padme was lucky Tekla was so loyal, it wasn’t always the best move to be involved with the opposing candidate’s adoptive son.

Not that Anakin was officially adopted of course, but it was close enough. It made their love for each other and their relationship difficult to navigate. They’d managed to avoid any publicity so far, but Anakin was becoming bolder and caring less about who saw him. Padme too was finding it harder to care, he might be a little younger than she was, but she was head over heels for the athlete.

He took a seat on the couch she had for visitors and petted his thigh, a mischievous grin on his lips.

“Come here,” he bade and Padme couldn’t help but do so. She strode over to him and before she had even had a chance to sit properly, Anakin reached out and grasped her hips, pulling her into his lap with that cheeky but charming grin that made her heart flutter. She settled on his lap with a bright smile of her own, looking down at him with such adoration.

“I don’t like being away from you for so long,” Anakin hummed as he leaned closer, kissing the smooth column of her neck, his broad hands sliding up her back.

“You know I have to work,” she chuckled, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She sank into his kiss as she cupped his face. It had been quite a while since they’d been together, she could tell he had missed her, especially the way his hands dropped to her thighs. Padme grinned into his kiss, she had missed him too.

“I know, but I miss you, and there’s no one else I’d rather be with.” He kissed her neck again and nibbled her ear. “We should take some time away… take a trip.”

“I can’t while we’re so close to the election,” she giggled. “The opposition isn’t making it easy,” she groaned and tilted her head, giving him more access as heat bloomed in her belly.

“Well, you know he’s doing what’s best for the city,” he murmured. Padme frowned.

“He’s doing what’s best? He’s just trying to win…” she shook her head, she didn’t want to talk about work, she wanted to steal a moment with her boyfriend.

“Mayor Palpatine has been in charge for a long time, he just wants to make sure the job is done right,” Anakin shrugged. She pulled back, that warmth she felt began to fizzle out.

“So you think I couldn’t do a good job?” she accused.

“I didn’t say that,” he replied defensively.

“The corruption and issues of the city have been ignored for too long--”

“He can’t do everything, Padme.”

“He needs to do something!” she insisted, leaning back further to look at him with a deep frown. “If he put half as much energy into helping fix the issues that he does in slandering my campaign, then most of the issues would be solved!”

“Now that’s not fair,” the young man said, sitting up a little straighter. The action jolted Padme and she stood up to face him.

“What’s not fair are the claims he makes in the name of his campaign! His claims that I am too young or throwing my mistakes in my face and blowing them out of proportion!” She was getting a whole different kind of heated now. Anakin stood, now towering over her, his hands out.

“Padme-- he took me in when I had no one,” he began, that same story he always told when he wanted to excuse the old man for anything reprehensible that he’d done.

“Look, I’m grateful for that, Anakin, I am. You deserve good things in your life, but that doesn’t excuse the neglect or the smear campaign when I am just trying to do my best for this city!” she was exasperated, it was always the same argument. She let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know what? Perhaps you should go, I have a lot of work to catch up on anyway and I need to finish this speech.” She turned away and headed to her desk.

“Padme!” he protested, sounding shocked.

“I have to work, Anakin,” she replied bitterly. “Perhaps you’ll feel better if you talk to your so-called father.” She regretted the words as soon as she’d said them, but she didn’t look back at him.

“Maybe I will,” he spat back and she heard his heavy steps, flinching at the slam of the door. She shouldn’t have said that, but she was so fed up with the way her boyfriend always seemed to take the side of his ‘father’ over her.

She sat back at her desk and let out a deep breath. She could apologise later. For now, she had an election to win.

Notes: It's Christmas Day here in Aus, so here is my gift! Another Chapter of Sins! …as opposed to skipping a week 😂

I hope you all have a wonderful wonderful day. For all those who struggle at this time of year, I hope you are alright and safe and I am sending all my affections to you. Once again thank you for reading, you have my gratitude.

As always if you have a comment or feedback about this chapter, I would love to hear it! I always love to read your comments and they keep me going! I hope you all are well and I shall see you New Years Day/Eve with an APOD chapter!

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