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moonstruckme · 1 month ago

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hey lovely girl!!! i am formally requesting a james x depressed reader with lots of comfort if you’d like to write it!!! maybe reader is just like super overwhelmed by how sad and teary she feels and maybe a bit worried that james won’t get it but he’s so understanding and patient and kind and lots of comfort ensue, i feel like he’d be soo tender and gentle and when she’s crying just give the best hugs which i know we’ve discussed at length privately but it needs to be shared with the world

lots and lots of smooches,

rosa xxxx

Hi Rosa my love!! Thanks sm for your request, there's a bit of reader feeling guilty which I know we hadn't discussed but I hope doesn't hamper the experience for you

cw: talk of depression, self-loathing

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 780 words

You don’t know precisely how long ago you told James you were going to get ready for bed, but eventually he comes looking for you. He finds you drooped over the bathroom sink, a slow dribble of tears dripping from your nose.

His arms are warm and solid as they come around your middle, squeezing just enough to let you know he’s there as he turns his head to kiss your face.

“It’s okay,” James shushes you gently, warm nose to your warmer cheek. “You’re okay, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t sound surprised to have found you like this. He knows you’ve been hurting lately, though sometimes you hate that he does. You’re steeped in gloom, sad and guilty and at times scared that it’s never going away. Sometimes it all converges on you, like now, becomes something that feels too dense to carry. James wasn’t made to deal with your melancholy. His caring makes you feel worse.

You punish yourself in small ways. Not allowing yourself chapstick even when your lips crack and bleed. Staying away from any foods you really want. Forcing yourself to sit in feelings of guilt and worthlessness long past when they become unbearable. You’re not sure to what extent James is aware of it, but he makes up for it as best he can. He’s doing it now, soft kisses mushed into your jaw, climbing up to your hairline.

“I’m sorry,” you croak out.

An especially gentle press of his lips to your temple. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m okay.”

“It’s okay if you’re not right now,” he says. “I didn’t mean…I just want you to know that you’ll be okay, you know? It’s going to be. Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

You think he means to sleep, but when you get on the bed James works his arms around you, drawing you in close, holding you tight. You worry sometimes that he thinks you’re crazy or overreacting, but it’s hard to hold onto that belief when he touches you like this, like he knows all the contours of your soul even when it aches. He fits himself to them perfectly.

You press your face to his shoulder to feel the warmth of his skin on your cheek. Tears slip past your lashes, and James encourages you with soft sounds and kisses to the side of your neck and murmurs of I’ve got you.

He’s receptive to your needs. When your crying wanes, he stops squeezing you quite so fiercely and starts sweeping his hand over your back in broad strokes. The press of his palm has a tranquilizing effect, and you melt against his front, exhausted.

You don’t know what to say. Thank you feels too small, and sorry isn’t allowed, but James doesn’t seem to have any expectations from you. He keeps rubbing your back until you bring your hands to his shoulders, ready to sit up, and then he brushes the tears from your face with his thumbs.

“It’s going to be okay,” he tells you. James has a sincere face. He means everything he says, and it’s easy to believe him when he looks at you like this, brimming with earnest conviction.

You know he doesn’t mean it as a platitude, or that he’s going to somehow muscle his way through your feelings until you’re alright again, only as a simple reminder: You’ve done this before, and it’s hard, and it’s awful, but you’ve always come out of it. It’s never been forever.

“Yeah,” you say. Your agreement sounds emptier than his promise did, but you know that when it comes to certainty James is more than willing to pick up your slack. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

James lets out an exasperated puff of air, though his kiss to your nose lets you know he’s not truly upset with you. “What did we say about sorry?”

“It just slipped out.”

He hums happily at the edge of humor in your dry tone. Encourages you back into his arms and lays down so you’re on top of his chest. “I’m tired, too. Do you think if we both think really hard about the same stuff, we’ll show up in each other’s dreams?”

You ponder this, the ache in your chest ebbed for the moment. “Depends on what you believe about dreams.”

“I think it’s worth a try.”

James talks you all the way to sleep, his hand moving over the curve of your spine until you’re heavy atop him, deep breaths whistling in and out of you. In the morning, he’ll put your chapstick on for you in the bathroom and flirt with you until you tell him what you really want for breakfast.

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sugurouge · 2 months ago

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— taste of the divine : getō suguru x f!reader

content warnings! DARK CONTENT, forced marriage, kidnapping, mind break, heavy manipulation, dubcon, breeding/pregnancy talk, misogynistic topics, torture (isolation & darkness), conditioning, pet names (love, little dove, good girl), depression, stockholm syndrome

summary: Set out on the honourable task of finding the right wife for their leader, Getō's followers have abducted a special sorceress to bear him children that will carry on his will and legacy. Unfortunately, unlike your rather promising lineage, your temper and beliefs are anything but befitting for his wife. But not to worry, there are many ways to reshape a person. You will learn. Of that, Getō is sure.

❝ la sensualité de ton regard, la fragilité de ton corps. je brise ta pureté. deux âmes s'emmelent pour l'éternité. ❞

wordcount: 3.5k | my kinktober masterlist

by clicking read more you are agreeing to consume dark content. don't interact if you cannot differentiate fiction from reality.

Never have you felt as objectified as you do in this very moment: the lustful, piercing stares of Geto’s countless followers bore through your clothing as you are thrown before him—a man you know all too well from hushed whispers and dark stares within the Jujutsu Society. He is the enemy, a lost man.

The white robe they forced upon you, a mockery of a bridal attire, does you no favours. They made sure to leave nothing to Geto’s imagination: he should easily see how thoroughly they searched for a perfect fit when they took you.

And yet, somehow, he doesn’t even acknowledge your presence—not once does he seem to look at you, unlike everyone else in the room.

That is the first blow to your pride.

Then, there’s the way they speak about you as if you are not even there. Coming from a prestigious, ancient sorcerer family, your bloodline offers Geto everything he could possibly desire, all he could ever need from his perfect breeding vessel to bring forth some sort of prince to revolutionise the world. Indeed, they say, you are perfect.

“That monster will not lay a hand on me!” Your fighting spirit is adorable. But nothing could have prepared you for the sudden, heavy impact landing on your cheek. Geto can’t hide his chuckle at your shocked reaction. Did you truly expect to insult him in a room full of his most loyal men? They would never hesitate to put you in your place before continuing their praises of their great Geto-sama.

Strike number two followed so quickly, it made your mask crumble. The frustration becomes a thrilling decor on your face as you continue to hold your bruised cheek. There is so much hatred in your eyes—Geto looks forward to replacing it with fear. You will learn your new place, he is sure of that. You will love to obey him, to bear him children that will carry out his will and create a society of the promised.

Yet, Geto appears to hold not the slightest bit of interest for you, no desire found in those deep purple hues you nearly drown in.

He knows he needs to play this game wisely. He can’t have a woman at his side who despises him, can’t risk the danger of a mother who would rather kill her children than let the riders of his apocalypse trample the grounds of this world. You need to fall for him, have to desire him. For that, your strong-willed mind has to be broken, to turn you into the most ethereal sacrificial lamb the Jujutsu Society has ever known.

With a softly spoken command to "leave us," the room empties. His followers depart swiftly, their obedience causing you to frown. How can they submit to a demon like him?

A demon—that’s what he is to you. Dangerous, devious, twisted—yet alarmingly beautiful. As he approaches, the air seems to catch in your throat, and, of course, Geto notices the heavy swallow you're forced to take.

Is this the moment he’s going to claim you? Right here, in this dreadfully cold room, surrounded by an atmosphere of adoration for his sick schemes? Your body instinctively leans back, shrinking away beneath his stare. You already appear so submissive. He doesn’t trust it.

Standing tall with feet planted firmly on the ground, Geto looms above your kneeling figure. You didn’t expect the shiver that crawls over your skin as your eyes meet his. It’s as though he has flipped a coin and donned a different personality: one of intimidation and something darker, something sick. He might kill you on the spot if you speak now.

Hence why your lips part, yet no words escape before you shut them once more. The nervousness clouds your mind, paralysing your thoughts as you waver between holding his gaze or looking away. You're already caught in his web.

"Learn to love your new home," he says—the only words he speaks before leaving you alone.

The man you expected to force himself upon you, to bruise you, to scar your body and mind—he never touches you. He never seeks you out, never again meets your gaze. Your first night welcomed you to a life of isolation. You can only cling to the sticky feeling of fear that attaches itself to your new daily existence around Geto’s presence.

𓍯𓂃

Every day, you are expected to be part of his reception, dressed in fine clothing, your hair styled in ways befitting your title. Yet, despite this, you are forced to kneel, your forehead touching the ground, just like all his followers. You have reluctantly accepted this role after spending your first weeks locked away in a tiny room, with barely any light or kindness to sustain you.

During those weeks, you never once met your 'husband'. He refused to be bothered by your disobedience, unconcerned with the punishment his most trusted men inflicted upon you.

It all played perfectly into his hands, as you began to believe these men to be far worse monsters than Geto could ever be. After all, he never laid a hand on you, never tortured you, never dragged you into the dark dungeons until you began seeing things.

After months of this twisted game of escape within his temple, with only his henchmen for company, he finally deemed you broken in. No one had ever lasted this long under his torture before. He might have even said he was impressed by your willpower. But that strong-willed part of you was gone the moment Geto finally decided to free you from the darkness.

He may never forget the state he found you in: the hatred in your eyes shifting to relief upon seeing his face, your body worn down and weak from exhaustion, your fighting spirit crushed by the horrors your mind encountered in that cell.

You wanted to be saved by him.

Deprived of human contact, kindness, touch, affection, you crave to be cradled in his arms. You want nothing more than to feel a hand pat your back, to be held tightly while you finally allow yourself to cry until you pass out. But the torture continued. Geto assumed it wouldn’t take much more to get you to eat out of his hand. So, for now, he shall continue this farce. He shall refuse to touch you since you aren’t fully ready to accept his love just yet.

That much was clear since he could still catch you stealing glances towards the nearest escape route, no matter which room you were in. Until eventually, even with the doors unlocked, you no longer dared to look. You were too aware of what they would do to you if they caught you again. You couldn’t bear to be plunged back into the darkness, where the monsters you carried out of that room still haunted your sleep.

So, you learned to listen, to bend in an attempt not to break, while your mind slowly began to fade. Geto loves this version of you. How you bow to him each time he passes, how your body stiffens at the mere sound of his footsteps, how your eyes search for him. What are you looking for? Have your resources finally run dry? Do you need him now? Need him to fill you with his love, his affection, and his seed? Geto can only admit to himself the joy he feels upon comparing this new you to the feisty thing you once were. It makes his desire almost unbearable, his cock heavy with the urge to pump into you until you give out, until you bless him with the perfect children.

You should really stop clinging to your dignity and surrender yourself to him.

Instead, you isolate yourself further. You behave, yes. You don’t act out, you don’t try to escape. You are now a perfect rule follower, much like a robot, little like a wife. But what else could he do but leave you space. He swore to contain himself. He’s not some monster that would hurt another great jujutsu sorcerer. Plus, he adores you too much.

But he does start to worry. Worry for the plans that will fail if you succumb to your depression and fail to cling to him for support, for purpose.

𓍯𓂃

Imagine the surprise Suguru tries to hide upon learning about the person standing in front of his most private chambers, seeking an audience at such a late hour. A defiant shadow of the woman you once were enters his haven—your hair loose and unstyled, a soft and tired expression gracing your beautiful features, and that delicate robe you chose to wear for him. Your guard is finally gone.

After another slumber filled with dark monsters and fears, you find yourself desperately searching for comfort and found yourself in front of these doors.

Suguru moves closer, tearing through the final walls you've erected around yourself. He didn’t expect you to break down merely from his acknowledgement of your presence. Was he too hard on you? He wonders, as gentle hues of purple try to solve the riddle in front of his eyes. The kind words of “You are so beautiful,” make your shoulders sag, they add a tremble to your bottom lip—a reaction Suguru hadn’t anticipated. His sudden gentleness feeds your depraved ego. Careful not to turn into a glutton.

The smell of incense and sandalwood might just become your new favourite. The creamy sweetness blended with earthy undertones seems to be a comfort you didn’t expect once Suguru stands in front of you. The warmth of his palm, another trait you wouldn’t have granted him—you always expected him to be cold to the touch. Yet, as a hand lightly rests against your neck, you feel yourself melt.

To Suguru’s astonishment, you lean into his touch and let your eyes fall shut. This serene moment allows your mind to finally slow down thanks to the much needed human contact. For some reason, you feel safe, protected.

You are so docile now.

Your eyes meet as Suguru tilts your chin upwards, leaning in until his forehead rests against yours, his fingertips tracing the contours of your neck and collarbones. “You’re empty,” he breaks the silence with a gentle voice. “Let me change that…” The tip of his nose nudges yours, soft lips graze your skin before trailing kisses along your jawline. “I can make you forget about your past struggle and give you a new purpose…” Your hand fists the fabric of his attire as an attempt to ground yourself, his affections have you hum in sugary content. “A purpose greater than you ever anticipated.” Suguru’s free arm finds rest around your waist, to stabilise your tired form against his chest while his mouth attaches to your neck, leaving kisses in its wake.

“Give yourself to me, be mine forever,” his husky voice reaches your core, hits exactly where he wants to influence your body most as he whispers the words into your ear. Then he pulls back, to cradle your cheek while commanding you. “Look into my eyes, little dove.” He tilts his head, challenging you to focus on him, to finally speak, surrender.

He needs to taint you, to finally shatter the perfect image you’ve been trying to uphold. “Let me save you.”

You can barely offer more than your pliant body, seemingly overwhelmed by his greed for you. “Save me, please,” the whispered words threaten to burn themselves into Suguru’s memory.

His fingers run over your shoulder, down to your chest and above your stomach. You feel hot beneath his touch, needy to be filled with life and love again.

The alluring touch reaches beneath your robe, between your soft thighs, allowing him to tease you through the fabric of your panties. The tip of his finger grazes the delicate area, soft moans escaping your lips as your hips push into his touch.

The moment lures you forward, to close the distance and have your shaky lips meet his in a searing first kiss. Who would have thought you were that starved? Naughty girl. But he happily leans into your guidance, kissing you without restraint, teeth tugging at your lower lip before his tongue pushes into your mouth, leaving you breathless and needy.

As you break away, your face finds refuge in the curve of his neck, sighing your pleas for “more…” against his warm skin. “Patience, love,” Suguru breathes, eliciting goosebumps to decorate your skin and a flood of pleas to cloud your mind. One of his fingers hooks under the silky fabric, tugging at it teasingly to let the cool air hit your pulsing heat before a single fingertip begins to tease your clit, then enters your clenching little hole.

Your moan is unholy, a sound so exquisite Suguru couldn't prepare himself for it. He won’t let you hide them. A finger redirects your face to force you to look at him and allow him to drown in your glazed eyes. The irregular huffs from your lungs warm his skin, as he loses himself in your irises. You’d kiss him again if not for the firm grip on your chin.

“I’ll make you feel good every night, as often as you need me,” the once-dangerous man promises, before showing you his mercy. His hands release you to finally tug at the overflowing fabric of your robe, exposing your heavenly form to his eyes. And yet, you don’t feel exposed, don’t feel shame anymore as you watch Suguru admire you. You’ve never felt so good.

“Undress me,” Suguru’s firm voice commands, though he seems so pliant, so soft. Let your rush of confidence guide you to close the distance again, let your fingers untie his robes and slip beneath the heavy layers. His eyes close upon your touch, almost as if he’s allowing you control. Leaning in, his temple rests against yours and strands of dark hair drape over your shoulder area while the fingertips that trace along your waistline already feel like home.

As you push the fabrics off his shoulders, you can’t help but explore Suguru’s built figure. The contrast between his skin and the richness of his hair, illuminated by the moonlight, makes him look almost innocent. You swear you feel him shiver as your fingertips thread through his hair, his shaky exhale dampening your skin. “So pretty,” you murmur subconsciously, upon which his eyes open, a newfound desire now pools in them.

You don’t mind the blunt nails that dig into the plush of your ass, don’t mind being pushed back until your calves bump against his bed frame. Yet, he keeps drawing in, to fully push your figure up against him while cupping your face to kiss you again. Suguru’s hardness meets your stomach, tainting your skin with his pre-cum while seeking such teasing pressure. The thought of being inside you any moment now has turned him needy. He kisses you more erratically, lips crashing against yours until they nearly turn numb.

He guides your body to find comfortable rest on his mattress as he leans above you. There is a moment of pure adoration as your hands cradle his cheeks gently, before curious fingertips explore the flexing of muscles beneath the required force to hold himself up. His hand roams over your heaving chest, appreciating the form of your tits before trailing along your waistline and hip to take a firm hold of your inner thigh—parting your legs with ease to prod the head of his cock against your achingly ready hole.

Your eyes shoot up to him as he guides his length to run along your puffy lips, coating himself in your arousal and relishing the way your hips push against him. It’s too tempting not to push into you, especially when you roll yourself against the head of his cock, stretching your entrance around him ever so slightly and forcing a moan from Suguru’s lips. Your hands rest in the long strands of his hair and at the soft skin of his nape. Every fibre of your being lures him forward, pleading for him to make you feel complete.

He succumbs, leaning down to swallow your moans as he whispers, “Forgive me for my sins,” just a second before he sheathes himself deep inside you. You never expected to experience pleasure this intense upon your surrender; the stretch of Suguru’s cock a wicked reward that steals the last drops of sanity from your mind. Your lustful moans echo in the shared space between your bodies, and the chilly temperatures of the season make your panted breaths seem feasible.

“Finally,” you think you hear his breathless murmurs before he leans in again, lips latching onto your perky nipple while Suguru palms your right breast, gently squeezing your soft mound and rolling the nipple between his fingers. His teeth spoil—or rather, overstimulate—your left side, nibbling on the sensitive area until you whine and writhe beneath him, your hips pressing against his cock perfectly. How could he resist putting a little torture on you?

“You feel so good,” his words drip like honey into your ear. The tips of his hair and the trained muscles of his upper body brush against your figure, tickling and teasing your awareness as he sinks deeper to finally bottom out.

The addictive moan that escapes you leaves him no choice but to refuse to kiss you further; he doesn’t want you to cover up the sounds of pleasure he’s bringing forth. Instead, he redirects his mouth to nibble along your exposed skin, planting one love bite after another along your neck until he reaches your collarbone.

His world stops spinning when you moan his name—so shamelessly, so heavenly—that he could ascend right in this moment. “S-Suguru!” you plea, so smoothly, he can’t help but thrust harder into you. Your fingers drag over the duvet while he pulls his heavy cock out of your fluttering walls only to push back in. You cry in pleasure, praises to his name spilling from your lips as his hips roll against you. His hands securely grip your shaking form, holding you perfectly in place for his own selfish desires.

Your soft moans mix with his rich ones, creating the most beautiful harmony as your bodies share the deepest connection possible. Warm palms glide over your figure to take a firm hold of the back of your thighs and press them flush into your chest. His entire weight squishes you further into the mattress and allows for a reach that appears incomprehensible. The sudden intensity seems too much to bear; it makes you painfully aware of just how deep he is inside you. His thighs slap against your hips at a rapid pace, each thrust jolting your body against the mattress as his cock repeatedly hits your cervix.

By surprise, you hear him suck in a sharp breath as he witnesses the state he’s left you in: fat tears staining your cheeks as the mix of pain and pleasure leaves you unable to form coherent thoughts. You’re so perfect, perfectly submissive and ruined for him to rebuild.

Now, you feel his love, the adoration pooling in his dark eyes as he can’t seem to look away. Eager to witness every second of your pleasure. “So perfect, such a good girl for me,” he praises, his lips caressing your forehead to calm you down, while he continues thrusting into you with the same strength, speed, and desire. “Let go for me, give into pleasure,” he encourages, the clamping of your walls a telltale of what impedes.

You barely manage to nod in agreement, moans and hiccups making it impossible to form coherent thoughts while Suguru knocks the air from your lungs. You whimper against his sweaty skin, your breath tickling his neck while your nails claw into his back. “‘S too much,” is your final warning before your walls tighten perfectly around him, and the coil in your stomach finally snaps.

With all this newfound love, he can’t resist breaking his little rule. Suguru seeks out your lips, hurriedly placing his own over yours—surely not to drown yours, most likely to cover his own—as he almost immediately follows your orgasm with his own. He thrusts all the way in, coming deep inside your fluttering walls, which practically milk him dry.

His hand slides from your thigh to gently press against your stomach, accentuating where exactly his length resides and his cum lands, praying that your womb savours every drop of his seed to hopefully turn fruitful.

Your bodies are close enough for your heartbeats to thump against each other’s skin, pants and whimpers stifled by the shared kiss as you both come down from your highs. “Don’t ever dare to leave me.” The words are nothing but a whisper as his lips return to spoil your body with kisses, but the intensity behind them makes your heart stumble. The loneliness he must have repressed since his days at Jujutsu Tech have ended something you never once considered before.

But now you are here. Here to stay with him, to be his family, his weakness and strength all at once and forever. He broke you just to hold you. Now let him make it up, forever.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

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