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camillelespanayesbtch · 8 months ago

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Seven Devils All Around Me (18+)

Summary: It isn't your fault you like the feeling of power, the sensation was addictive, and although it never worked out well for those around you, it certainly worked well for you. You weren't to blame that people seldom survived attacking you, it was their fault after all. But you can only run for so long before your misdeeds catch up to you, and where will you be left after? It's dangerous to walk certain paths alone as a young witch.

Content: Eventual smut, graphic depictions of murder and violence, character death, power imbalance, manipulation, addiction, grief, discussion of sexual violence (r receiving) (I will add more as I think of them)

Word Count: 4690

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

I will block minors and ageless bios

Chapter One

You hum to yourself as you follow the marks you carved into the trees, a hidden path you had created that left those who follow you believing you were the perfect victim, blissfully unaware of the danger that followed you. You could hear the boys talking among themselves, their gleeful snickering as they think about all the things they could do to you now that they had you alone and unaware. Like most evenings, the forest was a cacophony of sound, there wasn’t an inch of space where there was silence, every crevasse had sound, even the ants clicked to one another to inform the other of the crumbs of bread that were left abandoned on the floor of the community hall that hosted giants. The leaves crunch underfoot, small twigs snapping as you step on them, continuing to hum the tune until you come to a clearing in the forest.

There was a space where no leaves were, a perfect circle that had been made over years of the same trick, black as the night sky is dark. “Look boys,” Douglas says with a grin, “She’s made a spot for fucking, just for us.” He moves closer to you, the others surrounding you as well, all of them giving each other encouraging looks. They didn’t believe the stories about boys going missing because every coven had tales like that, even the girls were told tales about their powers being taken when lured to walk the witch’s road, but everyone believed that it was just the danger of the road and not one of their own doing it. “I wonder if her tits are as big as her top makes them look,” Douglas says, advancing on you quickly, his hands twitching by his side as he thinks about tearing your shirt from your body.

“I’ve seen them through her window when she changes,” Clint says, “They’re small, no bigger than a handful, but at least they’re perky.” He cracks his knuckles, his eyes glinting dangerously. This wasn’t his first time taking what he wanted, and it wouldn’t be his last, just like the other boys he was with- if he sees something he wants, he takes it. His mother did raise him to be respectful towards women, especially those in the coven, but she always spoke about you as being the exception. You were the freak of the group, the one people whispered about, warned the kids to stay away from least you corrupt them. So, really, what he and his friends were about to do wasn’t a bad thing, it was deserved. “We should take pictures and add them to the wall.”

“We should take pictures and add them to the wall,” you mimic, turning to face them. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to keep trophies? Or was that too much for your tiny little boy-brains to comprehend?” You run your fingers through your hair, letting out a sigh as you shake a few knots loose. You were hungry, and these boys would be enough to last you a few weeks. Sure, they weren’t as powerful as the elders, too jumped up on the testosterone coursing through their bodies to focus on mastering the craft, instead relying on brute force to get things done. “Didn’t mommy teach you better? Or even your fathers? No, I suppose not. No, daddy left you boys behind, didn’t he? Went off to go fuck some young maiden the next town over,” you make a vulgar gesture, thrusting your hips before laughing when you see the group clench their fists in anger. “Oh no, did I hurt your feelings? What’re you gonna do? Blast me?”

It would only take one. It only ever takes one, but they didn’t know that. Of course they didn’t know that they barely knew how to groom themselves let alone see the signs of a trap, to even see that sometimes there is truth in the tales they have been told since childhood. You mightn’t have believed the ones about the Purple Witch, but you wouldn’t deny that there is something alluring about her. The ability to take someone’s powers? You wondered what it felt like, if it was as addictive as watching people burn, using their own powers to cause their deaths. “Lucas and Clint, hold her down,” Douglas orders, his eyes burning into yours.

The two boys he orders raise their hands, their magic shooting from their hands and wrapping around your wrists. They both were smirking until they see the lopsided grin on your face, a darkness settling into your eyes. You breathe in deep through your nose, tilting your head back up to the sky as your eyes drift shut, feeling the warmth starting to spread through your body and bloom out from your palms, “Oh boys,” you exhale. “Silly, stupid, little boys.” Your head rolls forward and you open your eyes to look at them, a fire burning in your eyes that makes them take a step back. “Didn’t you hear the stories? Didn’t your mother tell you not to go into the woods at night?”

“She’s just- She’s just bluffing,” Douglas stutters, “She’s just trying to scare us.” He puffs his chest out in false bravado before moving closer to you, his hands coming up to tear the front of your blouse open, but he hisses in pain, pulling his hands back. Your body had grown hot to the touch, as though he had just put his hands over the hot embers of a campfire, “What trickery is this?”

“You haven’t figured it out, have you?” You yank your hands free of Clint and Lucas’ magic, grabbing a handful of Douglas’ shirt, and pulling him so his body was against yours, a feral grin spreading across your face. “Smell that?” You lean in, taking a deep breath as the scent of burning fabric starts to fill the air, “Maybe you can feel it. It’s getting hot, isn’t it? I wonder if I’ll see eyes explode this time like popcorn.” You stare at him intensely, your hands glowing like magma as you start to cook him from the inside out, feeling his energy seeping out of him and into you. You let out a content sigh a the sensation, watching as his eyes go wide, his skin turning a deep red before starting to melt from his muscles and bones. He cries out in agony, trying to get away from you, to put the fire out inside of him but it was of no use, and soon he falls to the ground, his body quickly going up in flames. “Now,” you smile and turn to look at the other boys who were looking on in horror, “Who’s next?”

“You’re a monster,” Clint says, clenching his fists, “He didn’t even do anything to you! We were just playing!” He was quick to attack you, seemingly forgetting what he had just witnessed you do to his friend. You eagerly drink his energy up, your body glowing like a reactor before his body turns into barbecue. He claws at his clothes, trying to remove the flaming fabric from his body as he writhes on the ground, his screams drowning out the music of songbirds. You wonder if the woods would muffle the sound so it didn’t carry to the houses that lived along the edge of it, that the neighbors wouldn’t have their windows open to let the warm spring breeze in. Then again, if you didn’t want them to hear, you simply shouldn’t be doing what you are, but you couldn’t help yourself, could you? You enjoy it too much. You enjoy luring men into the woods, using their own powers to burn them alive as some sort of penance for all the women burned before you because their power was seen as a threat.

You take a few breaths to calm yourself, looking at your hands, they were turning black, tendrils creeping up your forearm and tickling your inner-elbow. This happened every time, the only evidence of your crimes. They were easy to hide though, you wore long-sleeves, and had a pair of gloves that your mother gave you to protect you from the judgmental gaze of your coven. Your mother wasn’t consciously aware of what you were doing, thinking you were just going into the woods to practice your craft, but she couldn’t deny it was suspicious that boys kept going missing whenever you did.

The remaining boys fall quickly, you wave your hands, letting out a hot blast of fire that turns their remains to ash. You knew the rain would disperse the ashes, returning them to the earth and helping to keep the forest alive, although your circle never grew back- the grass has remained dead and black for years. You were in your twenties now, and you had been doing this since you were sixteen. You do the buttons back up on your blouse then pull your sleeves down, doing the cuff buttons up so the sleeves wouldn’t go out of place. You flick your hair from your face, a smile settling on your features as you start to head back, humming to yourself once more.

As you walk, you stop occasionally to pick some flowers for your mom, making a bouquet for her. Your father wasn’t around to do this for her, not that he had done such thoughtful things when he was alive, that had always been your thing. You loved making your mom smile because it meant she wasn’t worrying about anything which had become her normal. If she wasn’t worrying about you getting in trouble, she was worrying about the coven being run out of town, and if she wasn’t worrying about that, she was worrying about taxes which only seemed to go up every year. It’s not that you couldn’t afford the taxes, she had been around for centuries, she had more than enough money to cover them, but it was still an unnecessary stress in her life that she simply did not need. If you could get away with it, you would burn the tax collector alive, maybe even roast him over a fire like you would toast a marshmallow.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” A familiar voice asks, disappointment evident in her tone. “I tell them- I tell them every meeting that it isn’t you, that my daughter would never bring harm to her coven, and every time you go out and prove me wrong.”

You look up from the flowers you were examining, your features falling, “Mama… I- They attacked me,” you explain. “I was just coming here to practice, like you always want me to. And they followed me, taunting me, telling me all the horrible things they were going to do to me.” You turn your head slightly, just enough to see the open area out the corner of your eye that was a few hundred feet away by now before looking back at your mom. You try to smile, holding the sad looking bouquet out for her, “I picked you flowers. Your favorites. I know you like having fresh flowers in the house because you like when the bees-“

“Enough,” she cuts you off, “Enough,” she repeats, softer this time. She walks closer to you, a sadness on her face as she gently takes your free hand in hers- your skin was like charcoal, and still hot to the touch like the furnace in winter. Her heart aches painfully in her chest, why was her only child like this? Had she done something wrong? Those questions hurt her; how could she think so poorly of you? She loves you dearly, she would do anything for you, absolutely anything for you, why couldn’t you do this one thing for her? Her touch was soft, cooling your burning skin as she runs her fingers over it, your skin slowly turning back to your normal shade. She turns your hand over so your palm was facing her, running her finger in a circle on your palm, a small smile tugging on her lips, “Round and round the garden,” she whispers, “Went the teddy bear, one step,” she walks her finger up your forearm, healing as she goes, “two step,” another step onto your bicep, “Tickle you under there,” she says and gently tickles your underarm, a soft giggle escaping her. “You used to squeal whenever I did that to you as a toddler.”

You can’t help the quiet giggle you let out, unaware of the tears spilling from your eyes, “Mama,” you whisper back, “I’m not a little kid anymore.” She gives your arm a squeeze at that, looking pained by the reminder. You rest your hand over hers, looking remorseful immediately, “I know- I know I’m still your little girl. You still make my boo boo’s better.” You look down at your hands, they were no longer black as tar, and you could see the blue and purple of your veins on the backs of them instead of a deep red that glowed against the black. You felt a knot form in your stomach, “They’re gonna kill me, aren’t they, mama?” You ask her quietly, a waver in your voice. “For what I’ve done- They’re gonna burn me.”

Your mom blinks back tears but it was futile, the salty liquid running down her cheeks, “When they find out,” she replies softly, “Yes. They will.” She raises her hand to tenderly stroke your cheek, and as always, you lean into her touch. Her thumb brushes against your rosy skin, wiping away any tear that dared to fall. She didn’t know how long you would both have together, whether she could wash your hair and braid flowers into it, or whether now was the only time you two would get. “Why couldn’t you stop?”

“I can’t help it, mama, you know that,” you answer, your eyes closing as you relax into her touch. Her hands never caused the same pain and suffering that yours have, they have always healed and protected. There was never a moment where she didn’t help someone, where she turned them away when they showed up to the door pleading for her to make their sick child better. There was always a spare bed for the child or adult to recover, your mother watching over them during the night to ensure their condition didn’t worsen. You. You had always been the one to hurt, to harm, to inflict suffering and pain. Your mother, try as she might to get you to do things for the betterment of the coven such as burning the fields to return the nutrients to the earth, or helping start the bonfires for when there was a community barbecue, even trying to get you to take out the wolves that threatened the farm animals, but it never satiated you.

It wasn’t until you turned sixteen did it become a problem, but she brushed it off because you had been terribly bullied, she kept brushing it off when the first group of boys went missing. She had moved you both after that, found another coven. Six months of peace before it happened again. Every time, you would come home with blackened skin and a bouquet of flowers. She never had to worry about running out of dried flowers for her potions, the basement was full of them, your peace offerings to her. You always were so sincere in your apologies, and she believed you every time, why wouldn’t she? “They deserved it,” you add, “They were going to hurt me.”

“Not every single boy was out to hurt you, surely, sweetheart. What about Tommy? He was always so kind to you, he tutored you. You were friends.”

Tommy had been your friend two moves ago, you two had bonded over being excluded from most of the college class you were enrolled in, even the lecturer refused to acknowledge you in class. You both were good students, handing your assignments in on time and not once even asking for an extension. You thought you were just friends, you told him you only liked women, and he told you he was okay with it. You had gone over to his house one afternoon to study for an upcoming exam, the two of you were in his room on his bed reading notes when he had asked you if you’d ever kissed anyone before. The question made your skin crawl, “No,” you had answered, “I haven’t.” He got this look in his eyes at that answer, his hand had come up to turn your head to face him before he leaned in to kiss you, his tongue forced its way into your mouth, pocking and prodding your throat. You had frozen; your eyes wide as he assaulted you. It wasn’t until he had pulled back did the anger kick in. You don’t really remember much of what happened, only running out of the house as the fire department showed up to extinguish the flames, two of the firefighters checking over you for injuries. You had told your mother what happened, what he did, and she had brushed it off, saying it was just how it was done- nobody needed to ask for permission to kiss, it was spontaneous. You had cried in your room that night, you didn’t understand why your mom didn’t see why it was wrong of him to do that to you. She knew you liked women, why on earth would you ever want some man to kiss you?

“We- You know what he did to me, mama. He hurt me. He hurt me,” you tell her, more tears falling onto your cheeks, “He knew I didn’t like him like that. Every single one of them deserved it.” That wasn’t true, there had been a couple of groups you took out because you enjoyed the thrill of it, the screams, the feeling of power that filled your system. Even thinking about it now made you giddy, your pupils dilating as though a drug was coursing its way through your system. “You have to believe me, mama, please.”

Her hand falls from your face, “We should head back. You need a shower, and I’d like to braid your hair.” Her voice was cold, the older woman turning her back on you, not even taking the flowers from your hand. She usually hummed with you, the same song she sang to you as a child, but tonight the only sound was the owls hooting in the forest. You wipe your eyes on your sleeve, holding the flowers close to you as you follow along behind her. You hum quietly to yourself, looking up into the trees to see the glowing eyes of birds watching you. There was something comforting about them being so attentive, like they were looking out for the inhabitants that called the woods their home, even as they swoop on the mice that scamper across the leafy floor. It was the balance of things, and even as they eat the mice, they too would return to the earth and continue the cycle anew.

When you get home, your mother sits on a chair and has you sit on the floor between her legs as she starts to braid your hair, her fingers working deftly. She carefully takes the dried flowers and works them into your hair, willing the protection to keep you safe when the leaders come knocking. Only now does she hum, the strands of gold that hold the flowers in place starting to glow. She new deep down this day would come, that moving towns, cities, states would only get you so far because the tales that were told about a witch of destruction would catch up to you, that one coven was going to be smart enough to figure things out and realize it is one of their own. “You’ve always had such beautiful hair,” she murmurs, adding another flower to the braid and tying it into place, “Ever since you left my body, you had a mop of hair on your head. Whenever you woke in the morning, your hair was all over the place, and it would take so much water to tame it.”

“I’ve seen the photos,” you reply with a giggle, your eyes closed as you relax, enjoying the calming sensation of your mom braiding your hair. There had been times she had yelled at you for not brushing your hair, threatening to cut it all off if you didn’t want to take care of it. She had always apologized afterwards though, blaming her anger on something that had been said in a coven meeting as she carefully brushed the knots and tangles from your hair. “How long do we have?”

Your mother doesn’t look up from your hair, the wards she had set around the house were starting to crumble, only meant to slow them down, “Not long, my dear,” she picks the hairtie up and ties the braid off, securing a crystal in with it. “There,” she says, running her hand lightly over her work before you turn to look at her, your eyes holding the light of a thousand flames, “My beautiful girl. If you survive, you know you must never return.” Her hand caresses your cheek, her eyes held the river of life which you always loved looking into because you could feel the cool refreshing water wash over you, keeping you calm.

“I can’t leave you behind, mama. I can’t- I promised you that I would look after you,” you rest your hand over hers, they were the perfect balance. It always made you laugh how whenever her hands were cold, yours were burning hot, and on the rare occasion hers were warm, yours were colder than the glacier high in the mountains. You didn’t want to leave her behind, she would be an outcast unless she participated in your execution which she was unlikely to do because despite everything you have put her through, she still loves you and you knew there was nothing stronger than a mother’s love. “I can’t go without you.”

“You have to, sweetheart. You must find your own path, in a coven that will understand you,” she pulls back from you when the front door flies open, standing up she calls out to them. “She’s in here!” She looks at you, pain visible in her eyes, “She killed them! I saw it with my own eyes. No daughter of mine shall harm our coven.”

You felt your spirit break, unable to realize she was doing this for a reason, to keep herself safe, to keep you safe from seeing her harmed. “Mama-“ You start, struggling against the witches as they bind you with their magic, “Mama, please,” you beg, “Please don’t let them do this to me. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to do it, mama.” The women haul you to your feet, the magic tightening around your wrists behind your back, cutting off the circulation to your hands.

“I saw the look in your eyes, Yn. You enjoyed it.” She follows the other women out of the house, the path to the stake lined with other members of the coven holding burning torches. “I’ll bind her to the stake,” your mother tells the women, “To make up for what I have done. I have let this coven down too many times before, I won’t let it happen again.” Her magic felt different this time as it wraps itself around you, your hands pulled taut behind the stake, the cold no longer soothing, instead it felt icy, the frost burning your skin. She couldn’t look you in the eyes, she didn’t want you to see how much this was hurting her, and she didn’t want to see how betrayed you looked as she prepared to watch her daughter burn.

“I never thought I’d see the day, Theodora,” the elder-witch comments, “Preparing to burn your own flesh and blood after so long of defending her. Had this evening turned out differently, you would be on that stake along with her, there is no doubt about that.” She gestures for the others to surround you, a group of six women all part of the higher counsel, and every single one of them deeming you guilty. There was no room in their coven for someone like you, someone so dangerous, someone without remorse. Were they unbiased in their judgement? Four of them were not, all having lost a son to you. The other two had daughters, but even they feared that one day your hatred would spread to women. Although whenever their daughters had caught a glimpse of you, their cheeks turned as red as a rose, and a carefree giggle escaped them which they thought was arguably worse. “Get into position, Theodora. It’s time.”

“Mama please,” you beg, “Please. I didn’t mean to. I can’t control it. Please.” You look at her, desperate for her to believe you one last time, “Please, mama. Tell them. Tell them that I didn’t know what I was doing. That I didn’t mean to. That they hurt me too.”

Your mother wanted to stroke your cheek one last time, to wipe your tears away but she couldn’t do that, not anymore. She breathes you in, inhaling the floral scent of the shampoo you used before stepping down from the platform and joining the other women encircling you. “I should have let you burn the first time,” is all she says.

The elder-witch gives a nod, everyone raising their hands in preparation, “Begin!” She commands, their powers shooting out of their hands and hitting you full force, a pained scream tearing itself from your throat. It felt like your insides were being roasted, your skin prickling from the heat. It was agony, you had never felt anything like this before and you wanted it to stop.

“Please!” You scream, your head falling back against the stake, “Stop! I can’t-“ You could feel that familiar sensation starting to build in your stomach, and it wouldn’t be long until it broke free. “Mama- Mama run!” Your face was wet with tears, your head tipping forward, your eyes making contact with your mom’s. She couldn’t run, you both knew this, but you hoped this last time she would break the rules for you. The binding around your wrist starts falter, the women behind you noticing it.

“Elder- Her bindings! She’s going to break free!” One of them exclaims yet she does not stop her attack on you, none of them do because they hoped that if they continued, you would finally burn.

The elder-witch encourages them to push through it, “She is glowing! We are close! Keep going!” Your mother knew what was about to happen, finally she meets your eyes, mouthing an apology to you before the blast happens, all the women letting out agonizing screams as the fall to the ground ablaze. You slump somewhat against the wooden stake, your hair blowing in the draft created from the fires, your skin flush a deep red and your hands glowing brighter than the sun. You didn’t want to hurt them. You didn’t mean to, you begged for them not to do this. You warned them you couldn’t control it. You were going to wallow in that feeling until you remembered your mother. You look around frantically, counting the bodies: seven. Your mother-

“Mama-“ You jump down from the pedestal and rush over to where she had last been, sinking to your knees as you desperately try and put out the flames. She was unrecognizable, her skin blackened and burned. “Mama, I’m sorry,” you sob, cradling her burnt body close to you. She was the only person to look out for you, the only one to have stood by your side, and you had repaid her by killing her. Your tears drip from your chin and onto her corpse, the tears evaporating before they even touch her skin. You look down at her, “I’m sorry.”

#Agatha Harkness #Agatha Harkness x reader #Kathryn Hahn #Kathryn Hahn x reader #Agatha All Along #Agatha Harkness imagine #Kathryn Hahn imagine

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ambrosialdesire · 1 year ago

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hedonic

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: laios x fem!monster reader word count: 5k warnings + tags: general yandere and/or dark themes, kinda gory descriptions, cannibalistic ideas/thoughts/temptations, probably ooc laios, delusional ideas, monster reader w/ large breasts (i mean, it comes with the kind of monster she is tbh but this is the only physical descriptor of the reader), brief bodily mutilation + removal mention, breast milk consumption, accidental peeping (?), breast fixation, blood kink kinda, biting mention, all characters are 18+ synopsis: he's always been the type with an insatiable appetite when it comes to any monsters, but he promised to never ever eat any demi-humans when it comes down to it. the temptation when it comes to you has became irresistible to try and ignore. a/n: in request of 🌷 anon and my fueled want for laios, i have made my first dungeon meshi/delicious in dungeon yan fic! i decided to do it in laios pov cause i feel it'll make for an interesting perspective. not really nsfw this time around lol since i'm still new and keeping up with the anime and learning about the characters SO IM ONLY CAUGHT UP ANIME-WISE OK LOL AND THE MONSTER I'M USING FOR THE READER ARE CONSCIOUS BEASTS THAT CAN COMMUNICATE AND SHIT LIKE THAT CAUSE IT'S SO VAGUE ON THE WIKI 😭😭 also i'm making shit up as i go okay so anything food related is like entirely made-up 💀 AND YEAH I MADE IT ABOUT BREAST MILK OKAY LMFAOOO tbh i've always wanted to try a dnd-related game but literally have no where to start (ik there's baldur's gate but i am a broke full-time student lol) hope y'all enjoy and hope i can make some more of laios cause he's so 🏃‍♀️💨💨 note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

Laios made a promise to never consume a demi-human, no matter the circumstances. It made sense, they were on the cusp of something that was human but not. They could have similar features like the races they respectively belonged to, could bleed red and have had a beating heart, yet in the end, they were still a monster inside and out. Morally or ethically — whichever which belonged to which — according to Chilchuck, it was still wrong to try and consume them.

He understood that completely once it got explained and stuck into his head, but then you came into question.

When you came into Laios's party during the search for his sister, you were almost attacked from how you meekly approached the small group in one of the dungeon’s levels. They were right to be cautious of course, many human-like monsters had previously attacked them when their guard was down, but once they realized you genuinely meant no harm, they let you join in. Marcille was overjoyed that another girl had joined the party, though both Laios and Chilchuck had their valid doubts about you. Senshi didn't really mind, long as you could pull your own weight and never tried to attack them.

Were you trying to play the long game? Did it make them taste better when you waited to strike? Were you eyeing your pick in the group? Senshi and him both have a lot of meat on their person, Chilchuck was definitely the least desirable since he was so small and had less meat on his body; to be honest, Marcille was in a similar boat as him too.

Food-wise, you ate whatever Senshi made with a happy smile, not even being deterred once from having to eat something that was considered to be closely related to you. He wondered if it was something you were used to, something that you had to be doing in order to survive down here. Then, if it came to other parties that came before them and being forced to defend yourself, did you ever had to... consume them?

Laios hoped it never had to occur, but he couldn't blame you if you had no other choice. He could imagine you being trapped for days before your kind could get to you, maybe one or two bodies from an adventuring party were with you from a previous scuffle and the pangs of hunger were getting to you. The thought of the remaining party members finding the torn apart limbs and strewn, chewed on bones surrounding a bloody starving monster made his stomach flip and a shiver go down his spine. Maybe it's because that's how he last remembered Falin right before she teleported them out of the dungeon, her midst of her body trapped in the toothy maw of that Red Dragon.

Because of this now since your alliance with them combined with the many questions in his head about your diet, there was one that he can't quite get rid of, no matter how much he tried.

What did a human taste like to a monster?

It's been a few weeks since they've ventured in the dungeon and Laios still had some doubts with your intentions for joining. A monster is a monster and cannot be trusted no matter what, but you didn't cause trouble or held them back from their search so he let you be... for now at least. He'd be a hypocrite for not letting you stay since he's been keeping Kensuke around, but it's only temporary and it can't really harm him without the other parts of the Living Armor. You're a moving... person? Half of one. Actually more a third-fourth of one? He doesn't quite know but still rather fascinated by your existence.

You were similar to them in conscious thought and speech, as well as appearance-wise. Well, appearance-wise, you definitely weren't human. Small, bilateral curved horns made their home on the sides of your head, floppy brown ears swung around with every step you took, a long bovine tail whipped around the bottom of your legs, and finally, your legs were curved into two thick cow-like stumps with hooves at the end as a replacement of feet. Minotaur, or that's what you said what you were, though you were smaller than those massive farm animal adjacent beasts, about a few inches taller than Marcille.

And not to sound like a perv or anything remotely similar to that, but you didn't really have udders either, unless your more than well-endowed breasts compensated for the lack thereof.

"Ow! Laios!" He snapped out of his thoughts, looking down at his metal shoe and seeing the fluffy end of your tail on the bottom of it.

"Oh, sorry." Slowly, he lifted his foot off of it, the appendage whipping around and twitching. It wrapped around your waist, almost completely hidden as a fuzzy brown and white belt.

"It's bad to get distracted here, are you hungry? Thirsty? I have some bread and milk in the pack if you want to snack on it." As you walked on forwards, you pulled the bag off of your shoulders and began to rummage through it with one hand. You finally found what you were looking for, handing it over to him without hesitation, slinging your bag back where it belonged. He stared at the milk as he chewed on the bread, the texture soft and light with each bite.

Did... did this come from you? You mentioned to them before in the beginning stages of joining that they can drink your milk if they needed to, but the horrified looks of both the elven mage and the Half-foot locksmith prevented you from trying any further. Both him and Senshi was of course curious, Minotaur milk was both difficult to come across and retrieve, but the two told the dwarf that they absolutely refused to eat anything that he cooked if it came from your body.

"Gross, don't tell me that came from you Y/N." Chilchuck grimaced as he walked on by and you shook your head.

"No! Of course not. I know you people humans are a little weird but I wouldn't give something that came from me without telling you. It's just cow milk, er... not from me." Laios felt a little disappointed as he opened the top of the bottle, wondering if it tasted different from normal cow's milk. According to the Dungeon Gourmet Guide, Minotaur milk was thicker and sweeter compared to the average cattle's; then again, this precious book of his wasn't really that accurate unfortunately.

What about your flesh?

He came to a sudden standstill, almost causing Marcille to bump into him.

"If you're gonna stop out of nowhere, at least move to the side Laios!" She grumbled, moving past him as he stood there in confusion. What was he thinking? Why would he even go so far as to think that? He started moving again, carefully watching you click on forwards. His mind began to wander at the thought again, which parts of you would be edible?

Your legs definitely, there's so much muscle built upon you there. He'd seen you strike down stone pillars and enemies in a single blow without even flinching. Maybe even your thin tail, could be tough and stringy though. Your ears would take a while to feast upon, cartilaginous but still a good source of protein. Horns are a no-go, too small and were most likely hollower than meaty. Cow hooves are a delicacy in some parts of the world, so it was possible that yours were consumable too.

Would the "human" parts of you count? You hadn't revealed if you were full or half-monster, maybe even if you were cursed, so it was hard to truly determine what you were. If you were a full monster, that meant that every bit and piece of you was edible meat.

Meat.

"Laios, you’re drooling! I can hear your stomach rumbling too," Your giggling voice rang clearly in his mind, his gaze snapping downwards as he wiped his mouth quickly. "I have more bread if you want."

"No, no. It's better if we stop now and make something more nutritionally beneficial to continue forwards," Senshi stopped with the two of you, turning his head around to find a suitable room for cooking. "Think I still have some of those Harpy eggs and Kelpie flesh, would you two be so kind to try and find some more ingredients on this floor? Any vegetation would do this meal some good."

And here the two of you were, walking around the floor's grounds to spot for anything of use. It was almost completely quiet minus the shifting of his armor and the clicks of your hooves echoing throughout the stone hallway, reducing that awkward silence just a little. Your weapon, a sharpened scythe, swung around on your back as if you were a cow grim reaper; the thought of a cow dressed up in a black robe with a menacing skull mask made him chuckle in his head a little.

"Oh! Up ahead, I see something leafy." The hoof-clicking went faster as you picked up your pace, ducking your head from the fallen wooden structures that were in the way. Compared to the average Minotaur, you moved and reacted quicker, most likely because of your smaller stature and having a little less muscle in your body to heave around. That could make you vulnerable on the other hand, having less muscle everywhere else minus your legs meant diminished strength and being unable to defeat enemies in a more timely manner. Interesting.

"Laios, do you think this enough for all five of us?" You shuffled out of the crevice in a huff with bundles of thick purple, triangular leaves in your arms and he took a pinch from one of the leaves, inspecting it before placing it in his mouth. He winced, his face contorting to a pucker as you laughed at his expression. Dungeon oxalis, edible but strongly tasted similarly to citrus.

"We could work with it, could make up for lemons since they're pretty sour. Here, place it in your bag and we can search for other things." You nodded after wiping your eyes from your boisterous laughter, following his instructions and getting back up from the ground.

You dusted yourself off before picking the bag back up, smiling at him as the two of you began to move deeper into the dungeon. "I hope we find some Night Lucernes but I think since we're already so low underground, it's getting more unlikely they can grow here."

"Oh we can't eat those, they make us sluggish and gives us stomach cramps for weeks."

Blinking at him, you tilted your head in confusion. He never noticed how long your eyelashes were, is that common in your kind? "Really? They're like vitamins for me or was it something about the blood—"

"Why are you not like the other Minotaurs?"

"Huh?" The question was out of the blue, interrupting her talking as the two of you had stopped in the middle of the hallway, eyes locked with one another.

"Why are you not like the other Minotaurs?" Laios repeated, not skipping a beat and leaning down closer to you. "You're not massively built, you don't have a cow's head, you don't have large horns. You don't strictly eat vegetation, is it even good for you to eat monster meat so often? There's so very few things that are Minotaur-like on you, are you really one of their kind?"

Your eyelids fluttered in shock, each question wrapping around your brain before you leaned away from him, scratching the back of your neck. "Well... I-I don't really know why myself."

"...What?"

"Uh yeah. One day, when I was still young, I woke up in this dungeon alone without a single memory in my mind. I don't even remember who named me either, but I vaguely remember being told that I'm a Minotaur. Maybe it's the Mad Mage's fault but I'm sorry Laios, I really can't explain why I'm not more like them."

Did that even satisfy his question on whether you were edible as a Minotaur or not?

"I do know is that I am a monster," You put a hand over where your heart is, clenching it tightly into a fist. "I ain't like you people humans and I'm sure not like those other animal humans you coexist with, so I am nothing but a monster. I may look a little different from my kind but inside and out, I have the Minotaur’s blood in me. And the strictly herbivore thing isn't really true, I can eat meat if I have no other choice to, it's not all that bad though. Doesn't really freak me out and I'm always grateful to have the opportunity to eat a good meal."

"So have you eaten other adventurers before meeting us? I won't judge, I'm genuinely curious and I won't tell the others if you have."

You froze, eyes casting downwards suddenly as your fists gripped onto the coat you wore. "I... I don't really want to talk about it Laios, sorry. I'll answer your other questions but some things are better left off unsaid, okay? Please respect that."

His lips were pulled into a thin line, the nagging voice in his head still ever curious on whether you've eaten human before, but you really did seem uncomfortable talking about the topic. "Sorry."

He then put a hand under his chin, thinking about what you've said previously slowly. Inside and out... Does that mean you are edible? I mean, you basically said it yourself, despite you being more on the human-appearance spectrum of monsters. Then again, they met more human-like monsters like the Harpies and the Dryads, and they've eaten them before! (Well... sorta.) The mermen were edible too (despite Chilchuck stopping him from taking more of the parts), so that means—

"Can I drink your milk then?"

"Wha— H-huh?!" The apples of your cheeks glowed a dark shade of red, but his gaze remained determined, sparkling in excitement even.

"You offered it before, didn't you? Chilchuck and Marcille aren't here so they won't judge us and I've been curious since my book said that it's different from normal cow's milk." You looked around, even peeking behind him, before sighing and bashfully pouting.

"I did! I know I did! But, I have to make it fresh since I threw out the ones I had on hand a week ago and I don't have any on my person right now so..."

"It's okay, I can wait." He bluntly replied, oblivious to your wording. Laios just wanted a little taste, nothing more and nothing less.

You mumbled something under your breath, his ears catching a few words of him being 'too eager' and 'quick to answer'. Was he? He was just answering your question honestly, and he’s been ever so curious about it ever since you’ve offered it before.

"Let me find a room, just wait outside for a bit."

You were flushed, clicking away to find a place to hide out so you could produce what he wanted. Of course he followed shortly after you left, staying outside just like you told him to and it would serve as extra security. If Minotaur milk tasted as good as they say, he might just keep asking you for it when some certain party members aren't nearby. Hell, he might even be able to sneak some to Senshi since he's been curious about it too! It's only right to share a magnificent discovery to the best monster chef. Actually, he might be the only monster chef he knew but he was still the best by default.

He waited.

And waited.

And waited…

Laios started to sit down next to the door due to how long you were taking to produce a small bottle. Was it difficult to get milk out of the body by yourself? He had to ask about that too since he’s only seen male Minotaurs depicted in his book; there was nothing but a small and vague paragraph that explained about the female Minotaurs, but it was mostly about their milk.

He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the stone wall. You really were a strange individual, someone that he can’t quite understand. Your very being makes his mouth salivate whenever he thinks about you as a next meal, even if it shouldn’t. Was it because all they’ve been eating has been monster-related? His strange fixation on trying them was slowly being satiated with every step down the dungeon, so he chalked it up to just being morbidly curious.

It has to be that reason, it must be, because what kind of sick individual constantly thinks about consuming his friend?

Opening back his eyes, he took another quick glance at the wooden door. Laios was extremely curious on how the whole process worked, if you really had extra udders or if the hidden parts of your body were furry or skin. Plus, you really were taking a long time, one of the three were bound to come over soon and he wouldn't be able to try the milk! Actually... you know what? What if you had gotten attacked in there by a whole group of Mimics?! Or any other monster group, like the ghosts! You were strong but you can’t take all of them at once, and monsters aren't able to revive here. Wait...

Monsters don’t revive here.

He scrambled up on his feet at the realization, quickly knocking on the door, the sound of stumbling and thuds causing him to immediately panic and start pushing it open.

"Are you oka—" Laios froze, his eyes widening.

Your eyes were wide open as well, mouth partially parted open in dumbfounded shock. At least you looked okay and it seemed there wasn't any harmful enemies around, just some old furniture that had fallen over. It's weird though. There you sat on the ground in the midst of the mess, one arm covering your bare chest while the other was holding a partially filled glass. He stood there in puzzlement as your face grew redder by the second, placing the glass down slowly before reaching for your weapon that was right next to you.

Oh.

Oh...

OH!

"LAIOS!!!"

"I'M SO SORRY!!!" He slammed the door back shut as the scythe made its way towards his head, the sharp blade slicing through the old wood, the tip just barely missing his nose. His heart pounded against the metal chest plate like a beating drum, his lungs completely drained of all air. He began to kneel on the ground for some support since his legs started to give out from the revelation. His body was burning up, like he just got lit on fire from the Red Dragon or was a little too close to one of Marcille's explosion spells.

He just saw you naked. Not completely, but still, he just saw your breasts. He was used to and never cared about seeing others nude or topless, whether they be male or female — monster or not — it's just parts but seeing you?

Despite being here for most of your life, the skin from what he saw was quite smooth and rather mostly unblemished. It's like scars weren't able to attach onto the surface, as if they weren't allowed to. And the curvature of your heavy breasts, the noticeable suppleness of both when you moved and inadvertently squeezed them with your arm. They weren't udders at all either like he thought they were, they were undeniably humanlike, no fur included. He imagined biting into them, wondering if it'll be easy to sink his teeth into the squishy fat while he sucked on both the spilling blood and milk, thinking about the mix of sweetness and tangy that'll occur if he did. He'd be especially lucky to leave any mark on your pristine skin during the process, his body tingling at the idea of being the only one — the only human — to permanently leave something behind.

Laios couldn't stop salivating, a hand over his mouth to prevent him from drooling all over himself. He's shaking, why was he shaking? Was it from the fear of these unstoppable thoughts of his? Because of the leaf he ate not a moment ago? No. It's because of these recent developments and the answers he was getting from them, he was becoming... excited.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

The door finally creaked open, a small glass bottle being pushed towards him from the barely ajar entrance. He looked up to where your head would be, your eyes nervously staring down to the side. You started to apologize in a soft mumble as you slowly revealed yourself, now completely dressed.

"Sorry for throwing my weapon at you earlier, but this is all I can give right now. If I had eaten Night Lucernes prior, it would've been better quality. Um... enjoy I guess?"

"Thank you for the drink." Laios smiled and took the bottle in his hands, staring at the liquid. It was warm, which was expected since it just came out of your body, and it wasn't fully white like he thought it would be, the color just had the faintest tinge of yellow that could be missed if he wasn't looking close enough. He took the glass's edge to his lips and finally, he took a small swig of it.

Sweet, precisely as he thought it would be, but not as overtly strong to make him sick or give him an immediate cavity. The book was right to say that it was thick, almost similar to a honey-like consistency but still light enough to not choke at the heavy feeling of it go down his throat. He didn't realize that he quickly drank all of it at once, his tongue running across his lips to catch any remaining liquid left. You said that this wasn't the best quality, but he couldn't imagine it being any better than what he just drank.

"That was..." Laios paused, smacking his lips to try and remember the taste once more. Your face slightly fell, eyebrows worriedly scrunching together. "Amazing!"

"R-really?" The slightly-afraid look melted off in relief, your eyes glowing in happiness. "No one ever said that it tasted amazing before... Actually, no one actually tried it before except you Laios."

He... he was the first one that tried your milk? The fleeting thoughts he had prior ran through his mind again, his cheeks flushing a slight pink. If he really was the first one that drank something of yours... then it's only right that it would be specially reserved for him right? It's really selfish of him to keep this amazing beverage from his dear party, but something like this should be cherished by the one that adores you the most.

He quickly grabbed your hands, holding them up as he squeezed them tightly in excitement. "Can I have more later? I won't tell our party, it'll be our little secret exchange between the two of us."

Laios watched your expression turned from complete shock to shy awe, your tail twitching around and thumping against your legs. You were silent for a bit before looking up at him, a determined glint in your eyes. "W-what's in it for me? I can't just be the only one giving you something.

Shit. That was fair of you to bring up but him as a normal Tall-man, there was very little he could give you in return for your breast milk. "What would you want from me anyway?"

His mind immediately went into the gutter: you wanted to eat something off of him. It could be considered a fair exchange, consumable body part for consumable bodily fluid. Maybe you were getting tired of eating monsters, needing your actual nutrition from people. He started to get nervous, what would he be able to give you from his body? Would a finger satiate you or would you need something larger? Laios can't really give up his arms or legs, he'd need them in order to get through the dungeon and save Falin. Tongue was completely out of the question, he can't imagine not being able to taste food in both normal and monster dishes.

The idea of giving you his dick to consume suddenly popped up in his mind, the thought of trying to cut it off caused him to pale. He didn't use it much compared to his other body parts, only needing it to use to take a leak; he wasn't really the sexually active type either, being able to count the partners he previously had on only one hand. Technically and hesitantly, that would be the only large body part that he can give up for you.

Briefly, he imagined how'd you eat it. You weren't an messy eater when it came to Senshi's food — despite having to learn how to use utensils but still preferring to make use of your hands — so you'd probably be as neat as possible with it. You'd eat it raw, as soon as he managed to slice it off his person, warm crimson slipping down your fingers as you bite down through the layers of skin and muscle.

Or there was the possibility that you wanted to take it off yourself, kneeling right down in-between his legs, hands slowly sliding up his thighs to his hips as you approached his lower half. He'd be forced to watch you take his soft cock into your mouth, probably struggling if he accidentally got hard during the process. The last thing that Laios would feel would be your mouth's warmth wrapping around it before chomping down.

A shiver went down his spine, though it didn't feel as horrid as it was supposed to be.

With your big lashed eyes, you slowly blinked once more as a small smile grew on your lips. "Knowledge. I want to learn about the outside world. I've never left the dungeon before, all the adventurers that came before your party prevented me from ever trying."

Oh... That's actually not a bad exchange request, simple in nature. At least he gets to keep his junk, despite his heart still pounding from what his fucked-up mind just mustered up.

"Okay deal. I'll teach you about my world in exchange for milk." He put out his hand, letting you reach out and shake it. Your eyes relaxed as you smiled warmly up at him, finally letting him go. Laios then went over and patted your head, rubbing the top gently. You stiffened lightly at the gesture, his fingers brushing over the horns. They were smooth with faint ring-like indentations, almost an ivory-creamy color. Truly a fascinating feeling.

"There you guys are! You've been gone for so long that we were starting to get worried." Marcille. You batted his hand off of your head quickly, turned around with a tautly-pulled grin towards the elven girl.

"Must've lost track of time finding what Senshi wanted, sorry about the wait. You guys must be starving by now." The two of you started to chat walking back to the temporary camp, Laios watching and following from behind. You pulled out the oxalis in your bag to show her, a proud expression beaming off your face as you brought up his face when he first tried it. His stomach twisted, his hand resting on the top of his armor-covered abdomen.

There were very few monsters he found cute, most being out-of-this-world frightening to gaze upon, but you truly were one of the cuter ones around. He felt hungry again as your hips swayed from side to side, tail flicking around. He brushed the fingers that he touched your horns with against his lips, reminiscing on the texture. How sensitive were they? You did go rigid when he brushed against them, but it could be just from the shock.

Saliva was building up in his mouth again, and he could only harshly swallow back the feeling.

Deplorable he was with this appetite, the desire to consume you piece by piece. Would you accept that as one of your final fates? Rather than being killed and left behind with little to no chance of being revived, he'd pick up every raw part of you and eat it, savoring each bite in respect for what you've sacrificed to help him find his sister. Laios would try to bring the inedible bits of you with him — bones, teeth, horns, nails, hooves, hair — for the rest of this dungeon's journey and back into his world. Your wish would be granted, despite not being able to fully witness it yourself; you might even thank him for that bit of kindness too.

This thing the two of you had was special, unbeknownst to the others. A friendship that couldn't be understood by the other members of the party, but was completely comprehensible to only you and him. Symbiotic, just almost mutualistic. A love of one's flesh in exchange for the love of another's world.

Love.

Though Laios has expressed his heavy interest and passion in monsters, he never had said he loved them. Most were mindlessly dangerous, no matter how small or large they were, acting on base instinct. Yet, you were different. In fact, he could say that you were the opposite of him. Instead of being grouped together with your fellow monster-kind, you were more interested in being around outsiders. Different sides of the same golden coin.

A realization hit him, his eyes widening. The strange feelings in his body, the perverse, obsessive fantasies he's been having about you... It could only mean that he—

"Jeez Laios, you've been spacing out all day. Are you okay?"

He snapped out of it, staring at the concerned looks of both you and Marcille. Laios only smiled, his golden eyes focused completely on your form. Both your ear and tail tip was twitching, flicking in the air as if a fly was nearby.

"I'm just hungry, that's all."

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 8 months ago

Text

HE COMES AT NIGHT (Zoro x Black!F!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Vampire!Zoro Roronoa x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You suddenly find out why the people in the village you recently moved to become so strange at night when you discover that the legend Zoro Roronoa, the bloodthirsty Swordsman, is real. And he’s got his sights set on those who wander the streets after sundown and don’t believe in him…that being you.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Period Piece AU; Porn w/ Plot; Stalking; Horror/Fantasy; Supernatural; Dubcon/R*pe; Knife Play; Stripping; Forced Deepthroat; Cunnilingus; Mating Press; Breeding Kink; Dom!Zoro + sub!Reader; Cum Play; Biting; Blood Play; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Three one shots in one day. There’s something wrong with me. Take my laptop AWAY. Enjoy!! -Jazz 🖤🖤

Japanese Term Wordbank:

Minka — A traditional Japanese house; translates to “house of the people”

Kimono — Traditional Japanese garment & national dress of Japan

Sake — A alcoholic beverage from Japan; can be served hot, cold or room temp; often enjoyed with Asian cuisine & appetizers

**********

The new village you’ve recently moved to is….strange.

Or rather, the villagers are. And you feel awful and terribly guilty for thinking this way. They are an extremely kind, humble, generous, and helpful group of individuals. Living in a small village means community to them, such as watching children when their parents aren’t home; carrying groceries for senior citizens; delivering gifts to homes for birthdays and housewarmings…

And warning those to be inside by nightfall.

You were lucky enough to fall victim to the villagers’ kindness and hospitality when you moved to the quaint little village of rolling hills, forests, small businesses, and hanoks just a month ago. You were freshly out of your parents’ home to pursue a career in the medical field and were accepted into a medical program to become a nurse just five months ago.

Your parents were originally apprehensive about the idea, but after seeing how small and low in crime the village is, and how close your new home would be to your class location, they allowed you to move. Immediately, your neighbors delivered cakes, bottles of sake, and good wishes to you. It made you feel at home.

You are now aware of how sweet and humble these people are, but you’re also aware of how superstitious they are too. It’s not as simple as your mother leaving a candle in her dark house to ward off spirits when you were young or not walking under a ladder.

You started noticing it while walking home from your classes with your friend from school in the evening time. Your classes, which begin in the afternoon at 11 AM sharp, end every evening at 5 PM just as the last of the autumn sun glints over the horizon and the small village before nightfall.

And every evening, like clockwork, small businesses close their doors for the night. Parents urge their children in the house after playing all afternoon. You had thought it was nothing at first, but then you started noticing more strange things: curtains being drawn; lanterns and candles being snuffed so the entire village is dark as night; homeowners putting candles and expensive sake on their doorsteps.

One day while walking to dinner in your flowery kimono and carrying your medical book for studying and wicker basket for your lunch, you decide to ask your friend about it. She’s been living in the village since birth and you bonded over your shared love for cooking and cute men.

”Hey, hold on a second,” you call to her from up the trail. You decided since it’s Friday and you were dismissed early to go for dinner at a ramen place she knows about just up the road from your school…with the intention of coming home before dark, of course.

She stops, turning to you in her own pretty kimono and slippers. “What’s wrong?” She asks, concerned before grinning at you. “Those spicy rice balls making you nervous now? You seemed so confident earlier.”

You roll your eyes at her teasing. “No, it’s not about the food. It’s about that food.” You point at the offering sitting on the steps of a Minka. Perfectly sculpted rice balls, a bowl of fresh fruit, and a bottle of sake with a cup sit there surrounded by vibrant red flowers.

“What’s this for?” you curiously ask your friend. “I see people leaving food out all of the time. Is it an offering or…”

Your question trails off when you catch your friend’s expression. She looks absolutely terrified, her eyes wide and her body stiff. “You mean…you don’t know?” She softly asks, like someone will hear her. “No one told you?”

You scowl at her, confused. Is she joking with you? “Told me what?” you demand. “What do you mean by that?” Your friend looks around to make sure no one is listening. You find that odd too. “C’mon,” she whispers, waving you along. “I’ll explain at dinner.” You tentatively follow, your hairs standing up on end for some reason.

Your friend keeps her promise. While at dinner, over a plate of spicy rice balls, two small bowls of miso ramen, and a bottle of Kamikokoro Peach Sake, she starts explaining the ways of her people. She leans in like she’s telling a scary story, eyes narrowed and her hands planted firmly on the table.

“Long ago, hundreds of years before us, a swordsman once lived here. He was known throughout the land and beyond for his great craft of fighting with his swords. He is said to have carried three—two in his hands and one in his mouth between his teeth. He went by the name Zoro Roronoa.”

You are already giggling, sipping more of the sweet sake as you listen to the obviously-made-up story. Who the fuck carries a sword in their mouth?

“His name still puts fear in the hearts of those who know it, so much so that it’s only whispered. One day, the swordsman died. It’s still unclear how it happened—some say it was illness; others say he was brutally murdered by an enemy…but he didn’t die. Not in the way all humans do.”

You quirk a brow at her, playing along in her game as the sake makes you feel fuzzy and warm. “His body was discovered, but he wasn’t buried. When a casket was bought and a grave was dug for him, his body suddenly vanished without a trace.”

Now you really laugh. There is no way she can believe this is real! “As time went on, villagers started disappearing in the dead of night. If they were lucky, their bodies would be found the next morning completely slashed, sliced, and diced.”

She takes a sip of her sake, calm and cool. “Almost as if a sword had gotten them,” she adds. You feel a sudden chill and wrap your kimono tighter around yourself.

“It became a pattern in the village: people who were foolish enough to walk at night would fall victim to Zoro the Swordsman. If they were completely spirited away and not found, their bodies would come up completely unrecognizable.”

“But why?” you find yourself asking. “Just because people are out at night, he goes and kills them?”

Your friend’s eyes widen and she shakes her head. “Oh, Y/N, no. People who know of him aren’t out past sundown. The people who are are disbelievers. Those are the people Zoro goes after.”

You scowl at her, confused and becoming irritated with this supernatural BS story. “He thrives off of belief,” she explains. “It fuels him and makes him more powerful…it also keeps him away. But if you happen to be one of those unlucky souls that come across him at night, you’ll be responsible for fueling his bloodlust. Zoro is said to be a merciful being.”

“And this was a real person?” you smirkingly ask. “Not just some urban legend or spooky story to keep bad kids inside at night?”

Your friend sighs and shakes her head like you’re deluded. “He’s not just either one of those things. He’s considered so much more here—a God to some, a demon to others, but he is worshiped and his rules are closely followed…unless you have a death wish.”

She pauses to slurp down her ramen and so do you, the food suddenly tasting like paste. “Have you seen him before?” You curiously ask.

Your friend looks like you just admitted to murder. “Are you insane?! No way! I’m always in the house before sundown. I’m not trying to get killed!”

You cock your head at her. “Then how do you know he’s even real, hm? How does anyone know this supernatural swordsman even exists?”

Once again, your friend shakes her head at you. “Just because you don’t see him doesn’t mean he’s fake. The bodies that have popped up around here are proof of that. But you keep acting like he’s a bullshit bedtime story.”

She reaches across to play with a loose strand of your hair. “He likes pretty little things like you…pretty, careless little things that don’t believe and refuse to believe.” You swat her away and you both laugh, but her words make something in your stomach roil.

The rest of dinner is normal and filled with laughs. You polish off the rest of your sake with ease along with your supper, feeling full and drunk once you finish. Your friend asks if she can walk you home, but you decline. “I’m a big girl,” you drunkenly giggle. “I’m only a two-minute walk away.”

Your friend looks worried, but hugs you nonetheless. “Just get home safe and be very careful. It’s already nightfall.” She looks around the dark, semi-empty streets with concern and alert, but you don’t. The alcohol makes you feel fuzzy, giddy, and a false sense of security.

But once you wave farewell to your friend and depart, heading off in the opposite direction, that security fades. You suddenly become hyper-aware of how…empty the streets are. They are completely deserted except for an animal here and there-a stray dog; a hooting owl; a fox scurrying into a bush).

There is no sign of a human anywhere.

Swallowing roughly, you keep a hand on the small knife your father forced you to take with you and keep your footsteps brisk yet careful. Your walk is short. All you have to do is keep walking. You don’t think about turning around to run back to your friend or to the restaurant (it’s probably closed, anyway).

You don’t think about how dark and quiet it is. You only think about your bed and how good it’s going to feel once you’re in it.

Yes, your fluffy, warm bed. Your cozy, warm home. Nothing bad happens there. Nothing can hurt you there. Nothing can—

“Stop.”

The voice comes out of nowhere. It is unfamiliar and deep, but also soft and quiet. It blends with the wind, but it is so distinctly manly that you know that it’s not the wind at all. And what do you do? You stop, out of shock. Turning around, you grip your knife harder as you peer down the cobbled road and row of dark, quiet homes.

“Hello?” you call.

You see nothing. You hear nothing. No voices, anyway. Figuring it’s just your paranoia, you turn and keep walking a little faster this time. “I said stop,” the voice, again, demands. He—whoever he is—sounds irritated this time. There is an angry rasp in his tone that sends shivers up your spine.

You turn around again and this time, you do see something…or someone. All you see is a shadowy figure…a big, bulky, shadowy figure with broad shoulders and towers over you despite it being feet away. You squint at it in the darkness, perplexed and afraid. “W-Who are you?” You shakily ask. “Why are you following me?”

The man, or what you think is a man, doesn’t respond. He just stands there. Menacingly.

“Sir?” you call. “Can I help you with something? If not, I need you to stop following me or—“

”You didn’t listen,” he says. His voice is deep and raspy echoing across the empty courtyard. It shocks you to your core and immediately, your intuition kicks in. You feel your stomach drop and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Suddenly, his hand moves to the long handle jutting out of his side. A sword. “What?” You gasp, finding your voice again.

“I said. You didn’t listen.”

He slides the sword out of the sheathe at his side. The metal glints in the moonlight, stealing your breath away.

“You didn’t listen to your friend, so now you’re mine.”

Slowly, he lifts the sword to his mouth and licks it, his pink, pierced tongue sliding down the silver blade. A smirk appears on his lips along with a menacing glint in his eye that sends shivers down your spine.

He’s real. Zoro the Swordsman is real. “O-Oh, my God,” you whisper. You back away, your body shivering, but he only steps forward. “Don’t run from me,” he growls. “It’ll do you good to stay exactly where you are. I’ll catch you.”

You don’t listen. Fear has taken over, kicking your fight or flight switch on. You choose the latter. “Stay away!” you scream. “Stay away from me!”

Quickly, you turn around and begin to blindly run away, your shoes furiously clicking across the cobblestones. You think you hear the swordsman behind you, but you don’t turn around to look. You’re too scared.

You run and run and run, pumping your legs even as they burn. Tears begin to spring into your eyes as your desperation and terror increase, pumping more adrenaline in your body. You can’t die out here. You can’t. Not like this. So you continue to run, dodging between buildings and dark corners to hide yourself even as the moon glows above.

Then you finally see your neighborhood and run faster, puffs of air leaving your lips. When you finally, thankfully, make it to your front door, you look back to see if he’s still there. All you see are swaying trees and dark houses. He is nowhere in sight. You’ve lost him.

You laugh in relief, almost hysterical. You’ve never been so happy to see your front door before. Quickly, you dig into your bag for your keys and fumble a bit with them, not quite able to get your door key together because of your shaky hands. “Come on, come on,” you whimper, your nerves frazzled.

This lapse in judgment and calmness would be enough for any predator to sneak up and take advantage of you…and it is. Suddenly, you’re being pushed against your door by a big, muscular frame and your keys are tumbling to the ground. You let out a scream, but it’s quickly muffled by Zoro’s big hand and thick, ring-covered fingers.

“You’re a cute little thing,” he growls, “but you’re also very stupid. I told you not to run. I told I’d catch you. And you still ran.” You feel him press harder against you, his knee wedging between your thighs. “But I also like stubbornness. Makes it a lot more fun.”

His chuckle sends shivers down your spine. “Pwease!” you say behind his hand. He moves it away to let you speak freely, still trapping you against him.

“Please,” you sob. “Please don’t hurt me. I-I’ll give you whatever money you want, just don’t—!”

“Shut up,” he demands, sounding enraged by the idea. You quickly button your lip despite the soft sobs spilling from you. “Don’t disrespect me like that. I don’t want your fucking money.” Confused, you turn your head slightly to look at him. He is truly a handsome man with emerald, green hair cropped short, crimson eyes, and three gold earrings dangling from his right ear.

“T-Then what do you want?” you whimper.

Zoro reaches a hand over you to grasp the doorknob, magically unlocking the door. “Open the door slowly,” he whispers. “Don’t turn on the light.” He gets off of you, but the sharp tip of his sword stops you from celebrating too much.

With a sob, you turn the knob, open your door, and walk into your small, quiet, dark living area. The floral scent wafting through the air does nothing to relax you as it would after an exhausting day. You hear the door shut behind you and begin to cower, your knees nearly buckling on yourself. Here you are. Alone. In the dark. With a murderous urban legend.

Your mind tries to desperately grasp from straws. For any kind of logic. How is this happening? Are you really that drunk? Did you pass out somewhere and you’re dreaming? Is he just a nightmare? A ghost, maybe?

“Look at me,” Zoro raspily demands. “Take a look at the legend himself.”

Slowly, you turn to him and there he is standing in the moonlight pouring in through your draped window. He is big and tall, towering over you at around six feet. He is built like a tank, sinewy with muscle. Broad shoulders. Big arms. Big pectorals. Big legs. Big everything. In other circumstances, you’d be climbing him like a tree.

The swordsman stands before you, staring you down, his face illuminated by the silver glow of the moon. “You didn’t believe in me. You didn’t heed your friend’s warnings. Now you face the consequences.”

His pink lips curl into a smirk. “Me.” He grips his sword at his side.

Your knees buckle and you press your hands together in a prayer. The effects of the alcohol have begun to fade, leaving you horribly sober. ”Please!” you beg, crying hysterically. “Don’t hurt me! I-I’m new here and I didn’t know! I’m so sorry I disrespected you!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, the most human thing he’s done in the time you’ve known him. ”Too late for that,” he scoffs.

But then he pauses, thinking on it for a moment. “But I suppose I could teach you a lesson without this.” He slides his sword into his sheathe and stupid hope blooms inside of you.

“I think I have another special sword for this punishment.” His smirk turns into a twisted smile that you don’t like at all. ”W-What do you mean?” you whisper.

You think you know, but you’re hoping to God almighty that you’re just being paranoid. Unfortunately, your intuition is right as Zoro takes a step towards you, his smile fading. “Take off your robe,” he demands. His voice is low and not up for the games.

But even so, your dumb, sluggish mind still struggles to “W-What?” you softly gasp. Zoro makes a face, absolutely dumbfounded by your stupidity. “You can’t be this dumb. I said take off your robe.” His hand goes for his sword again. “Or do I have to do it for you?”

He stares you down, silently daring you to disobey him. With a sob of defeat, you lower your basket and begin to disrobe, your fingers trembling and slipping from the knot holding your kimono together.

“Hurry up,” Zoro growls, impatient but also growing harder as he watches you. You can tell from the bulge in his pants that pushes against his black slacks. You go as quickly as possible and finally reveal yourself to him.

Zoro hums in appreciation at the sight of your body. You, however, just shiver and quake in humiliation and fear at being exposed in front of this…this monster. Your nipples are hard from the chill, the fear, and…maybe even arousal? Even now, you can feel a warm tingle between your thighs where, luckily, your lace panties are. How can this be?

The swordsman strides towards you and unsheathes one of his swords. “Please,” you whisper, your skin both hot and cold.

Ignoring you, he takes the tip of the sword and gently drags it down your midsection, keeping the pressure light and slow. You only feel the slight point glide against your skin, causing goose pimples to explode across your body.

Snip.

You gasp, realizing that Zoro has cut through your panties at the speed of light without you even knowing. He then grabs you with his free hand, gripping your arm. You begin to push away from him, struggling against his chest. “No!” you shout. “Don’t! Just leave me be!”

”Silence!” he barks, loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood and scare the moon away.

His voice then dips low, turning soft as he sheaths his sword. “I just want to touch you.” He uses the back of his hand to stroke your cheek. You cringe at his touch. ”So soft,” he sighs. “So pretty…”

His eyes, the color of blood, soften at the sight of you. He looks at you and touches you as if you’re a lover. Not a victim. He suddenly leans in, bending his knees slightly to reach you.

“Please,” you whisper again, but your words are swallowed up by a kiss. His lips are pillowy, soft, and sweet, and they taste like wine. They are unlike any lips you’ve kissed before.

Your body tenses up before finally melting into his own, falling victim to his magical kiss. It sweeps you up in a warm embrace, just as his arm does when he hooks it around your waist to pull your naked body flush against his.

You moan into the kiss, your hands stuck gripping his chest…his warm, hard-like-granite chest. Goddammit all! Even in such a nightmarish situation, you can’t deny how attractive he is.

Zoro suddenly pulls away and swoops down to suck on your supple nipples. He does so in a way that makes you believe that it’s been a long time since he’s touched a woman. His hands roam your back and ass, squeezing, molding, and gripping your flesh. You moan as his tongue slurps on both of your nipples, sensitive from the chill in the air and his hot, wet, pierced tongue.

You moan and writhe against his ministrations, your body betraying you. You can feel your pussy tingling and the knot in your stomach tightening the more he sucks, licks, and grips you. “Ah!” you cry out, flinching at the slight bite of pain as he nipples one of your nipples. His teeth are sharp, almost like knives.

Zoro chuckles, humored by this. “Do you want more, little girl?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your nipple. You don’t know whether to say yes or no.

Without waiting for an answer, the swordsman suddenly tosses you over one of his broad shoulders. You squeak, suddenly staring at the floor. “W-What are you doing?” you demand, gripping the back of his shirt.

“You’ll see,” he laughingly says, giving your bare ass a smack for good measure.

He then begins to walk through your house, somehow knowing exactly where the bedroom is. He ventures into the dark room with you in his possession as if you’re a prized sack of jewels that he just won. Carefully, he lowers you down onto the floor where your sleeping cot is.

Then he’s on top of you, swallowing you up with his big body. “Feel me,” he growls, grinding his hips down against yours. There, you feel his big, hard cock pressing into you. This somehow drills the undeniable, inevitable truth into your head: this is real. This isn’t a dream.

The swordsman begins to kiss down your naked body, his lips leaving trails of fire in their wake. When he finally makes it to your legs, he spreads them apart and gazes at the sight in front of him. You quiver in his hands, your tears drying on your cheeks.

“So wet for me,” he coos, his cool breath fanning over your pussy lips. “From the way you screamed and ran from me earlier, I would’ve thought you ain’t like me much.”

You whimper as his finger ghosts over your slit, collecting your juices onto his digit. “I-I don’t,” you softly, your hands grasping the sheets below you. “I don’t like this.” But not even you truly believe it.

Zoro quirks a brow at you, a wicked smirk on his face. “Then why is she sobbing so much for me?” he asks, referring to your perfect, puffy, wet cunt. “Seems to me like she needs something she hasn’t been getting very much of.”

He smiles at you, his pearly whites glinting in the moonlight that shines through your bedroom window. “Allow me to do that for you.”

Then you finally see it: fangs. Four of them, two on each row of teeth where his canines should be. You don’t have to scream or cry or try to escape. Not when he’s ducking between your legs to eat you out like he hasn’t eaten in days. “Oh!” you moan, your head leaning back against the pillow. You’ve never felt immense pleasure like this before.

Zoro eats you out like he’s starving, moaning into your pussy as he sloppily slurps and gulps away at your juices. His fangs don’t even get in the way of scraping you as he licks and sucks at your clit, his soft lips cushioning the sensitive bud. You feel the urge to grind your hips against his talented mouth, you feel a hand press against your stomach.

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ move,” he grows into your cunt. “If you, I won’t make you cum at all.” He keeps pressing down as he eats you out, giving you the sensation of wanting to pee but not being able to.

“Oh, f-fuck!” you whine, tossing an arm over your eyes. “Please, please, please!”

“Please what, baby?” He asks, giving you a long, teasing lick from your clit down to your ass. “Please make you cum?” You frantically nod, needing it yet not wanting it. “Then you’d better fuckin’ look at me while I do this or you won’t like what happens,” he growls.

Defeatedly, you take your arm off of your eyes and stare into his as he slips one finger inside of you. You gasp, doing your best to not arch your back as he curls his finger up, fucking you as he sucks on your clit.

“Cum for me,” he demands. “I want you to cum.”

You can feel it building, about to burst. Suddenly, as you’re staring into the swordsman’s eyes, they begin to glow, the vibrant red almost pulsing. You blink once and feel your whole body instantly melt. It feels as if your body and mind are not your own anymore. They are someone else’s.

“Cum,” he says again, a growl in his tone. “Cum.”

You can hear his voice and the word echoing in your mind as he keeps his gaze locked on you, his tongue slashing away in time with his finger-fucking.

“Oh, fuck!” you moan, finally coming apart and cumming all over his fat tongue. Your moans and wails of pleasure are music to his ears, urging him to keep slurping and licking on. “Yes, baby,” he groans. “Keep cumming. Give me everything.”

You have no choice. He continues to press down on your pelvis, making the orgasm way more intense. It leaves you squirming and gasping, your vision blurred with unshed tears. The pleasure is almost painful. It sends you soaring up, up, and up, and then crashing back down to Earth again.

Zoro slowly pulls away from you, sliding his finger out of your hole. You moan at the loss, watching as he sucks your cum off of his finger. A fire suddenly appears in his eyes and he silently stands before you in the moonlight. You have no choice but to watch as he disrobes, first sliding his black bandana off to reveal his short-cropped, emerald hair.

Then off his shirt goes. Then his belt holding his swords. Then his pants, underwear, boots, and socks. Soon, he is completely naked, staring down at you with his glowing eyes. Your eyes drink in his pink, pierced nipples; his tan skin stretching across big biceps, forearms, and thighs; his washboard abs and happy trail leading down to his very hard, very big, very thick, throbbing cock.

“Get on your knees,” he demands. “I need my cock wet. You can’t be the only one receiving.” Despite you telling yourself no, you still sit up and position yourself on your knees in front of him. You look up at him and his beautiful, dripping cock in obedience, almost as if you’re his slave now.

You may as well be. You have no other thoughts except for him and him alone. Your body does as he demands, pulled on strings like a puppet. What has he done to you? He wraps a hand around his cock and slowly pumps his fist up and down on his shaft. “Show me that you believe in me,” he murmurs.

Somehow, you’re already salivating for his cock. Still on your knees, you rise up and take his cock into your smaller hand. He gives you time to get to know him, pushing his hips forward to sink his cock further into the hole you form with your hand. “That’s a good girl,” he purrs. “Get to know me. You’ll be gettin’ to know me a lot more soon.”

You watch, hypnotized, as your hand slides around his shaft. He is so thick that you can barely fit your fingers around the base. And his balls! They’re so big and heavy-looking, probably loaded with cum. His soft groans of encouragement egg you on to stroke him more, getting him harder and harder. Your pussy tingles at the sounds he makes and the feeling of his cock in your hand, so hard and heavy.

Finally, Zoro stops you, taking your hand off of him. “Enough,” he growls. “Take me into your mouth.” He takes his cock and rubs the head against your lips, applying his own personal lipgloss to them. He pushes deeper, prying your mouth open. “Taste me.”

You let out a muffled grunt of surprise as his cock slides into your mouth and settles onto your tongue, drawing a low moan out of him. He pushes deeper, giving you his full length. Your throat flexes and gags around his thick length, your tongue sliding down the pulsing vein trailing from his tip to his heavy balls.

“Yeah?” He chuckles. “You love the taste of me, don’t you?” You gurgle in response, trying to get used to the appendage in your throat. You have to hollow your cheeks and open your throat as if to yawn to accommodate him and his size. Especially when he begins to thrust. You feel his pubic hairs brush against your nose as he does, his pelvis rubbing against your top lip. “Take me deeper, baby. Just like a good whore should.”

He is warm and pulses in your mouth like a live thing, his hips pistoning front and back without abandon like your mouth is a fleshlight. A toy for his pleasure only. Saliva begins to drip from your mouth down your chin, making it easier for him to push a little deeper until that button at the back of your throat gets triggered, urging you to vomit.

“Mmm-ph!” you moan around his cock, pushing him back an inch by his thighs.

You manage to get him somewhat farther away from the back of your throat, allowing you a millisecond of relief. But Zoro grips the back of your hair, keeping you firmly latched onto his cock. “Uh-uh, don’t push me away,” he growls. “Guess I was too lenient with you.”

He pauses for a moment to tilt your chin up, his glowing eyes meeting yours. Once again, your brain feels foggy and you can't concentrate on anything. “Look into my eyes,” he demands, his voice soft and seductive. “Relax for me. Relax for my cock.”

And just like that, your body is relaxed and so is your throat. You go almost slack, all of your muscles loosening as you fall deeper and deeper under his spell. His cock slides perfectly down your throat, loosening it up the more he thrusts along your tongue and strokes the inside of your cheeks.

“Thaaat’s it,” Zoro praises, staring down at you through hooded eyes. “That’s a good. Fuckin’. Girl.”

Each word is punctuated by a rough thrust that nearly has you coughing. He tilts your face up with his fingers on your chin, making you look at him as you throat his dick. “Doesn’t it feel so good to give in? To let yourself submit to me?”

‘Yes,’ you think, but the thought is not yours…or is it? You don’t know anymore. You can’t think of anything but the salty taste of his pre on your tongue and how hard he is in your mouth.

Suddenly, your throat becomes scratchy and an unbearable pain explodes in your lungs. Zoro snorts, humored by your struggle. “You need to breathe, darlin’?” he chuckles. “Fine, but only because you’re doing so well.”

Finally, he pulls out of your wet, sloppy mouth, groaning as he does. You drink in the air and cough, finally able to breathe. Your mouth is beyond wet, coated in cum and saliva, while your eyes are wet with tears.

“Fuck, you look too cute,” he groans as if pained by your appearance. He looms over you, the moonlight cutting across his toned, muscular form. “I can’t wait any longer. Get on your back.”

You don’t protest. You don’t put up a fight. You just do as he wants, getting on your back and spreading your legs like a good girl. A good slut. He hovers over you, his big frame completely covering yours and blocking out the moon. All you see and smell and taste and know is him.

The moon glints in his crimson eyes as he taps his cock against your clit, making you twitch and moan. He presses his mouth against yours, your tongues dancing together.

“Let me in,” he murmurs against your lips. “Let me inside of you, baby.” He hikes your legs over his shoulders and wraps a hand around himself, lining himself up with your entrance.

A small breath of clarity fills you and for a moment, you come back to reality. “W-Wait!” you gasp, but your words cease to exist when he slides inside of you. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls agape as his length stretches you open, filling your walls inch by inch.

“Finally,” he groans, shuddering as he sinks into you. “Finally.”

The sounds you make are strangled and hoarse from the throat-fucking as he fills you up, taking you inch by inch, vertebrae by vertebrae. You’ve never been this full in your life. You grip his arms for dear life, feeling as if you’ll break if you don’t. Zoro hums in approval, gripping your hips as he begins to rock his hips against yours, sliding in and out, in and out.

“Oh, oh, oh!” you moan from underneath him, singing your own chorus. You can’t explain the feelings and emotions swimming inside of you right now. You feel so dirty and wrong for finding pleasure in being taken by the monster above you, but you know that if you don’t, he could damn well kill you.

“Look at me,” he orders. Your eyes have closed, forced shut by the pleasure. “Don’t look away. Let me see that face as I fuck you.” He begins to piston his hips, stroking that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. “So beautiful,” he grunts. “Why the fuck did you run from me?”

He fucks you harder, faster, drilling into your sex like it belongs to him. His handsome face grows red with the force of his fucking, sweat glinting off of his forehead. You claw at his back, the pleasure exploding inside of you, starting in your core.

“O-Oh, fuck, please!” you cry out. “N-Need you!” Tears once again prick at your eyes, threatening to fall down your cheeks. You’ve never cried during sex before.

Zoro smiles, his fangs glinting at you. You don’t even feel fear anymore. “I need you too,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your ankle near his ear. “I need all of you and you need all of me. It’s okay to admit it.”

You do. You need every inch of him despite the fact that all of him is inside of you, stroking your insides, bullying your pussy into taking him. Your walls squeeze and grip him, pulling him deeper inside of you and squelching with every thrust. Zoro laughs—laughs—as you moan and sob below him, your pretty body on display. “That’s a good girl. My good girl.”

He drops your legs from his shoulders, hoists you against him, and proceeds to rut into you without abandon. You gasp with each forceful, rough thrust. It takes your breath away and makes intense pleasure crackle inside of you like fire. It almost hurts. “W-Wait, Zoro!” you gasp, gripping him for dear life. “You’re going too fast! I-I can’t—“

“You can,” he insists, growling into your ear. “Sorry, sweetness, but I have to fuck you faster. I need to fucking cum and I can tell you do too.”

You do. You can’t help it. The more his cock stimulates your G-spot and the more his pelvis brushes against your clit, the more that knot in your core begins to tighten, threatening to snap. You feel like a balloon that is expanding with too much air and is about to pop.

Zoro fucks you hard and rough, using your body as his own personal toy. He takes you along for the ride until you both can’t take much more. You whine in his ear, “Oh, God, please! Please make me cum!”

Zoro’s big hand wraps around your hair and pulls you back to face him. “Not yet, you little vixen,” he growls, his red eyes drilling into yours. “Give me what I want first.” He leans in, nose nearly touching yours. “Tell me you’re mine. Tell me you believe in me. Acknowledge me.”

You don’t know what to say or how to form words. You can’t even breathe. His rough thrusts are enough to make you come apart at the seams. “I…I…” The swordsman wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing. “Say it!” he roars. “Tell me!”

Finally, your mind has a break just as it breaks. “I-I’m yours!” you sob. “I believe in you! I promise, I do! I’m all yours!” You know exactly what this means and so does Zoro because he grins, looking overjoyed at this breakthrough.

This isn’t just sex talk. You’re talking to an urban legend after all. And not just that…but a vampire. “Good girl,” he praises. “Now cum for me. Cum on my cock, baby.”

His cock drives into you faster and harder, triggering that spot over and over again, practically abusing it until you have no choice but to cum. Your body is forced to. “Cumming!” you warn, digging your nails into Zoro’s muscular back. “I-I-I’m cumming!”

The orgasmic, euphoric feeling washes over you, almost as if God has bestowed the feeling of being in heaven onto you. You fall into a sea of bliss, moaning out your release as you gush all over Zoro’s cock.

“Me too,” he grunts, still pistoning away at your sloppy, gushing cunt. “Gonna fill you up. Give you all of my kids.”

Kids?

You don’t have it in you to stop him. You just let him dig his fingers into your ass, hard enough to leave bruises, as he frantically chases his orgasm in your pussy. Finally, with a loud grunt of release, he pumps his cum deep inside of you, filling you with warmth. You gasp at the feeling, all of your senses coming to life. It somehow triggers another agonizing orgasm that has you spasming and whining in pleasure.

As you do, Zoro wrenches your hair back to expose your warm, soft, pulsing neck. “It’s time,” he growls. “Give me your neck, little human.” His eyes flash an inhuman red, his pupils turning to slits.

Before you even realize what’s happening, his teeth are sinking into the tender flesh of your skin. You open your mouth to let out a scream, but all that escapes you is a strangled, weak moan as his fangs pierce your skin. It’s a confusing mixture of a stinging pain and pleasure, creating a cocktail of strange emotions. Your eyes squeeze shut, the darkness behind them flashing with colors and shapes.

Zoro continues to suck your blood, gulping down each ounce of the red substance of your life force. You can feel your energy draining from you with each gulp, making you feel fatigued and dizzy.

Your vision blurs and your hands twitch, unable to push him away. He continues to feed, moaning in desperation at the taste of you. You can feel your own blood drip down your neck to your breast in two steady, red streams.

Finally, the swordsman pulls away. His lips and teeth are stained red. Red from you. You want to scream. You want to fight. You want to get away from this monster…but you’re just too goddamn tired.

Zoro doesn’t say anything for a while. He just takes you and lies you down on your cot on your side. You don’t fight it. Your body is too heavy and your mind is too foggy to do anything but comply. Your thighs are soaked with his cum, staining every part of your cunt.

“Now you’re mine forever,” he whispers. “You’ve given yourself to me. Now we’re bonded for eternity.”

You let out a weak moan in response, one single tear falling from your eye. Zoro lays his big body next to you, his hand stroking down your body. “Sleep now, my little human,” he coos. “And remember me. Always remember me.”

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and it is all you remember as sleep takes you.

When you awaken, it is morning. The bright autumn sun pours through your window. Zoro is gone. Your cot is cool and empty as if he wasn’t there the night before.

But you know better. You know that the other night is as real as the sun in the sky, and you don’t need to see the two bloody, puncture holes in your neck to believe it.

Now? You come home before sunset.

THE END.

#zoro aka my husband #zoro x black reader #black fanfic writer #smutty smut #one piece smut #happy halloweeeeeeen #black coded reader #zoro x female reader #daddy zoro #my works #my one shots

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madqueenalanna · 1 year ago

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so i'm almost done with my "terror" (show) rewatch and just finished reading "terror" (book) yesterday so let me ramble lowkey about the differences

i do love of course the little character details of the book that couldn't possibly make it into the show. sir john's devotion to his "gentleman" status to the point that he stays dead silent during sex, for one, crozier getting jacked off in a pond for another. the book's meandering pace gave us lots of ship descriptions (agonizing) but also lots of time with even minor characters (peglar for one)

and so because of their respective mediums, i like each ending/portrayal of tuunbaq in its own way. in the book, it's a spirit created by a goddess, forced to wander the frozen north and feast. silna and people like her are psychic, marry other psychics to create their own tribe, their own people. this is not to control tuunbaq but simply to communicate; they leave it offerings, it doesn't kill them. the white men have no way to understand this, and so they trespass and are murdered. crozier leaves his identity behind to join these people, loses his tongue, has children by silna, and feels the honor in this choice. tuunbaq's appearance is ephemeral, difficult to explain, almost incorporeal. it isn't a monster, it's a part of the land in the same way winter is. very spiritual

in the show of course it's much more straightforward. it's a beast that can be injured, can eventually be killed, needs to be bound to a shaman that can control it. silna cuts out her own tongue to follow in her father's footsteps, instead of having lost her tongue as a child in this psychic group. it dies, agonizingly, like so many of the polar bears it resembles, yet another victim of british colonialism. silna is ostracized by her people for its death under her watch. crozier joins the netsilik without her, assimilating culturally if not on this secondary spiritual plane. obviously this makes much more sense to see on screen

the other big change is of course the health of the men. sure they SAY in the show the men are failing, and we see some of them, but the book, agonizingly (good), details every mile they haul sledges, every symptom of scurvy, a few violent deaths from botulism, blanky losing first part of his foot, then half his leg, then several wooden legs break and he calls its quits when the stump is gangrenous. the book is so clear that this takes MONTHS, it feels like months, hickey's mutiny is almost a minor footnote because they were all already almost dead by the time it occurs. the cannibalism is such a last resort that they're all half-dead by that point. it's slow, it's painful, so it all makes more... sense, almost. you FEEL their pain, this slow horrific death, the STARVATION

that said i love the death of fitzjames in the show. he's got scurvy and dies of botulism in the book, but i think it's just scurvy in the show. we see his battle scars, obtained in a colonial venture to asia, re-open and suppurate. in a very real, literal way, his past has come to haunt him, to poison him. he dies on another colonial mission, weakened by his former expeditions eating him alive, destroyed by this land that wants them dead

and from researching this show/book i got linked by some very helpful redditors to some very long articles detailing inuit descriptions of finding hms terror before it sank, so i'm excited to dip into those

#The Terror

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minerwarfare-suzuya · 6 months ago

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😪🥱😴

I'm caught up with what's going on lol. Just been busy yesterday and barely had time to respond hours ago.

I was told that Red's video had received a report for a privacy complaint which was posted about that morning.

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Following up to this is a comment made by Cagney on the video saying she made the report for Kevonica which has been posted onto the community tab of his channel.

Though this isn't the first of Cagney reaching out yesterday. Prior to this I had received messages that I didn't get to look at until making this post yesterday. Cagney made an alternative account under the same name but with an "s" included. This is the message she had left for me to read.

1. You know I would be totally fine with the fact that her socials were to be censored when criticized over minor flaws but given all things considered. She accused Red of Sexual Harassment for things that happened years ago while completely disregarding the fact she still was reaching out to him to only excuse it in her video that she forgot about his past behavior, made him and I out to be pedophiles, kept forcing her own perspective upon our own work with twisted thoughts and above all that she still proceeded to post a response video two days afterwards which totally defeats the purpose of having to remain private/unknown online especially given how she shared that video by linking it in her tweet on Twitter.

Top it off, she still has the decency to still lurk onto Red's profiles. So, she is far from moving on lol.

2. Ah yes! "I want my socials censored for privacy purposes" *proceeds to post a response video and tweets about it publicly days later*-

Yeah, how contradictory...

As for the reasons why Kev wanted her original username and current one censored. I kept it private considering how personal they were but after those two days passed and I saw how things unfolded, you can totally look past that and see it could've been done to take advantage of the situation to her convenience. Like she still made a video response and tweeted about it, it doesn't matter how she edits the video to prevent her old username being shown. She's still making herself have public attention over it for just about anyone to find her no matter the following being big or small.

Honestly, the funny thing about this is when someone in particular asked for their socials to be censored they were rejected of it. Doesn't feel nice when the shoe is on the other foot because now it’s a whole ass problem.

3. Bringing up when I showed Blurry and Zombify screenshots of what went down in the community because of how much y'all talk shit behind people's backs is wild especially given how Zombify did take offense to Victor's own remarks about them when Zombify didn't agree with Kev's attempts to give Blurry negative attention on biased opinions of his own different takes for characters he drew in his own depiction along with other things. Besides that I can see that leaking screenshots of what went on during discussion did fuck up on someone's day over a group practically doxxing Victor and attempting to harass them. Yet you guys attempted to stalk Zombify's account daily when they sided with Blurry and over speculated on their Twitter activities to harass them which you are doing the same with Red and I activities online.

Now of course, Cageny made a post on her blog to follow up with everything.

Most of the things that are said go over the mention of stuff that I just went over.

Kevonica's desire to have her name censored when Cageny reached out to me for a request on Red's video to have changes for Kev's online safety concerns from what's shown in our conversation. As previously mentioned, there are numerous contradictions regarding this issue. For instance, she uploaded a video two days after our last discussion, which, despite any editing she may have done to mitigate risks, remains a public response accessible to anyone, including Red's video. Furthermore, her Twitter post promoting her video prior to making her account private effectively draws attention to herself and her art that is publicly available for viewing which looks no different to her old work from 2017. Having a game on steam that she promotes publicly with the same art style presented in her sprites which features the same art style in her sprites, linking back to both her current and past accounts. Like if you search up the name "TheNutcrackerus" on Google, her old Instagram pops up and all her work that she's made is relevantly still on there that can link back to her current account.

https://www.instagram.com/thenutcrackeruss?igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

Search up "TheNutcrackerus" on Twitter, her "Kevonica" account can instantly be found from people responding to her account. It's not like Kevonica wants to hide from the public when there is more than a clear indication that she wants her brand name known even if she abandons the previous one. Her making the claims of wanting her social media accounts private on a video presenting criticism against her is quite contradictory.

Following up with this post is that Cagney says Red is milking the situation when it's advertisement that is no different to Kev doing the same on Twitter and Cagney admittedly says that she made the Privacy report complaints for Kevonica in her comment that I have previously shown. Red and I both looked at the timestamps and literally nothing on those time-stamps breaks YouTube guidelines for a privacy complaint.

3:00-3:50 - Literally just Kev's old profile picture from the Thenutcrackerus account transitioning to her current one.

7:07-7:14 - Kev's conversation with Mobox87 on Discord.

24:48-24:53 - A beginning of Kev and Red's conversation reuniting communication.

33:30-36:05 - The same issue as 3:00-3:50 but in reverse. Kev's current profile picture is shown and transitions to her old one from TheNutcrackerus account.

This is honestly just shutting us up at this point. No matter what context you put in. This is shutting people up from their own criticism against Kev by abusing the YouTube report system to your own convenience.

Now of course, above all that she decides to add in an unrelated topic to make a similarity out of it. That being my gaming channel being terminated and showing off tweets from Red and I made to get an appeal.

Okay first off, this should be irrelevant to the argument given how this is just you over speculating on the smallest thing to complain about and to justify an argument in your response. Two, Red made a minor error when posting that tweet without realizing to edit the screenshot of a complaint in support of trying to bring back an old gaming channel so that YouTube's automated system doesn't address that email is being shown. Three, Why the FUCK would I be worried over my email being censored or not when it's the same email anyone can see publicly from the document I've posted about Kevonica? You can literally press the three dots on my document and see my email including Red's along with the activity log of when it was opened and edited. The same shit can apply to Kev's document including the Mobox87's archive evidence folder which shows her old email that is clearly still being used to this day!

Then of course, they mentioned my NSFW being censored. Uh duh, it breaks YouTube guidelines to show NSFW plus in my document I linked Kev's document and in our folders about Kev we have her documents from when she first uploaded it and when she updated it.

Plus, the only person in "history" who reports Red for Privacy Violation is Arion (Blue's Journey) which has been stated on my pinned thread on my Twitter account, My document and both videos that Red and I made about Arion, Cagney. FUCKEN Dumbass.

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Anyways, I find this situation quite amusing due to the extent to which this new argument contradicts all previous assertions presented to us. The hypocrisy is particularly evident when compared to the topics they have addressed in the past.

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somebodytolove31 · 2 years ago

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Midsommar is not a "good for her" movie, but it's understandable that people think that

Content warnings for: cult stuff, discussions of heavy topics such as rape, suicide and grooming, a lot of gaslighting

So I watched Midsommar recently, it's good, it has it's flaws (which I will talk about in a later post probably) but it's a solid 8/10 for me

One of the first things I do when I watch a movie is see what the internet thinks about it. I enjoy seeing the reviews of other people and funny memes and whatever else I can find. So imagine my surprise when I found out that people think Midsommar is a "good for her" movie

And like, no???

For those who aren't aware, a "good for her" movie is, as the term implies, a movie with a woman protagonist that makes you go "good for her" when it finishes, think for example of Knives Out, usually movies like these involve the protagonist in question cheating the system to get what they want, even if it's done on a morally (or legally) gray way. People classify Midsommar as a "good for her" movie because of the ending, in which the main character burns down her shitty boyfriend inside a bear

If you haven't watched the movie you may probably think "oh wow, well that's a good ending right?", and out of context, yes, in context however? this action is the representation of her leaving her life behind and joining a murder cult

From that fact you now may think "well how the fuck do people think that's a good ending?", but here's the thing, Midsommar does a great job at deceiving the audience into thinking the cult is not that bad, and the main way of doing this is through the main character we talked about, Dani.

At the start of the movie, Dani is in one of the lowest points of her life, her family has just died because of her sister’s suicide, she is in a shitty relationship, and it is implied that she has mental health issues of her own. Through the course of the movie however, she is helped by the cult, they offer her a “peaceful” place to be in while she grieves, she is often complimented, and they even burn down her abusive boyfriend by the end. From her perspective, this place has done nothing but help her, even if it’s done in non-traditional ways.

Except they don’t. Everything they do is simply a way to brainwash her into becoming a part of their community and use her. The cult still murdered 5 innocent people, they still forced Dani’s boyfriend to "mate" with a minor, they still make people kill themselves when they turn 72, they still inbreed, they still drug you without consent.

If this movie was played out through the point of view of anyone else, it would be seen as a horrifying tale of a death cult tricking a friend into becoming one of them, but it’s because of the emotional position Dani is in that we see them as saviors.

Even I was brainwashed by them in one scene, the one where Dani sees her boyfriend "cheating" on her and has a panic attack (a link for those who haven't seen the movie and are curious). Panic attacks are something I suffer from often, it’s gotten better with therapy, but it’s still horrible when I experience it, so when I saw the women of the cult gather around Dani, caressing her and screaming with her, my first thought was “wow, I wish I had a group like that, people that would scream with me when I’m feeling horrible”, it wasn’t until I really thought about the scene later on that I realized, wait, that scene wasn’t good! they are not helping her, they are just acting as if they know her pain, they are simply shifting Dani’s hopelessness to anger even though they're the ones that caused the hopelessness in the first place

This is a tactic not only used by cults, but by many people who want to indoctrinate you, as a simple example, think of all of those alpha male channels that play into the insecurities of men to tell them that women are the problem.

This is why people think the ending is a happy ending, their fear is shifted to anger, and they feel relieved when Chris is burned, just as the cult did with Dani

TL,DR: no one is immune to propaganda, so be on the look out for ways people might want to indoctrinate you

#midsommar #media analysis #movie analysis #you're not immune to propaganda #good for her #good for her movie

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oxtoxtoxto · 2 years ago

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i think i had an epiphany about pokemon black and white.

i think it was released about 5 or 6 years too early. what do i mean by that? BW came out in 2010, around a decade ago, and im going to assume it probably started full development not that long after HGSS finished up development, which would have been somewhere in 2009.

2009 was definitely a complex time, especially in Japan, but it was a *very different* time to now.

See, I think team plasma would have had a much more smooth narrative if they had incorporated the idea of *misappropriating progressive language*, and otherwise misusing certain terminology to the point of rendering it completely meaningless in its prior context.

we know the language bigots use to talk about minority groups nowadays, right? how there's pieces of language that used to serve a *very specific purpose* to refer to a *very specific kind of act* (such as grooming, a term which is now just thrown at the LGBT community whenever a bigot feels they need to drum up hate) which have now been sandblasted down into just another sneer to spit at people they hate?

and how by doing this they've tainted the usefulness *of those terms* to the point where it's genuinely impacting people's ability to report on certain things?

this was not as close of a topical issue in 2010 as it is today, where language is increasingly being weaponized due to the availability and reliance on social media our society has increasingly found itself with. this is why i think in a better world, pokemon bw would have come out in 2015, maybe even *later*, when this shit not only really began to develop into the cancerous issue it is now, but also when people began to actively speak out about it in a way that was wide-reaching.

think about a reframing here. at its core, team plasma is a pokemon welfare organization being used as a front as an elaborate way to dismantle any potential threats ghetsis might have to succeeding in a coup. ideally, this means trainers are pressured into releasing their pokemon and the ones who aren't have theirs *taken by force*, causing immense trauma to both pokemon *and* person, thereby necessarily weakening them in the process.

so, lets approach it as it might be done today. the first thing you do is you start widening the meaning of *abuse* and applying it in situations where it absolutely isn't the case, just to *force* people to legitimize a conversation that, say, owning a house pet might qualify as pokemon abuse.

you muddy the meaning of abuse until you have caused schisms in local culture. you rely on what examples of abuse you can find--neglect, power-hungry trainers who do view their pokemon mostly as instruments to increment ever-higher in ranking, but you do not turn you ire, *specifically*, on them. you turn that blame on your real targets: everyone else.

and all the while, what *abuse* or *neglect* or *mistreatment* even means when it comes to pokemon is muddled. people start reporting people for what they perceive *as* abuse even when it's not, and wasting the time of the organizations designed to look after this kind of thing, while also making anyone who reported things and got a "this wasnt abuse" feel validated that, yes, *everyone is in on it*.

with of course the occasional group of aggro anti-trainers reporting in such large numbers that the legal bodies involved have to investigate and maybe even separate pokemon and human because, well--look at all of these reports. there might be something going on.

and this snowballs. those who dont immediately bend to the pressure are targeted. they get picketed, they get people screaming at them. they have their organization decried as "abuse enablers" and with the way social media flattens nuance and these people already making sure to leave out all of the important details, many of these figures become hated by people who have been caught up in a cultural hate furor towards someone who has really been the one looking after these issues. people who are good, but are now demonized by a very vocal and aggressive group.

and then, you twist the knife, because with the eradication of all meaning to terms like *abuse*, you also make it a lot easier for abusive trainers to get away with what they're doing so long as they just pay the correct kind of lip service. just look at ghetsis: he has a hydreigon that genuinely seems to fucking hate him, judging by its frustration. abuse doesnt actually *get reduced*, because the words have been muddled so much the kind of clues and hints that might help a pokemon abuser get caught and put away are lost in the endless froth of vitriol.

abusers dont get hurt by this so long as they know how to phrase it.

and when you add in that the people who would actually be handling cases of abuse and mistreatment being either demonized, bent to the will of an angry mob, or too terrified to speak out, real abuse goes untouched.

people, *figureheads* of the movement, become untouchable because they crusade for the campaign with the right combination of words that *surely* they're not using this as a smoke screen to cover for their own goals.

this, this right here? i think people have always been aware of how language can be shaped like this, but genuinely the last 5 to 8 years have been the absolute worst of it, and most obviously criticized. if BW came out during this period, and used this as a touchstone rather than the absolute stance it does, it could have been a much more nuanced and compelling narrative.

the point is, though, Pokemon BW could have come out in the late 2010s and probably had a much stronger real-life example to build on and work with. The conversations we are having today are eminently relatable to Team Plasma's goal, it's just *too early* to have that connection.

It also would have permitted some nuance within the narrative. As it stands right now, the Pokemon universe simply rejects the idea that mistreatment of Pokemon is a realistic idea in the first place. Even among some of the darkest, and arguably the most likely teams to abuse their Pokemon (Galactic and Rocket) mainly view their Pokemon as integral sources of power that they must nourish and improve for their own benefit. It's not a purely benevolent reason, no, but Cyrus has a Crowbat (only evolves with high friendship) and while some of it is anime apocrypha, virtually *nothing* implies that Giovanni mistreated his Pokemon, and that Team Rocket mainly mistreated Pokemon via stealing them in the first place or by attempting get rich quick schemes (slowpoke tails).

In other words, the only group that has been shown to actively and aggressively *abuse pokemon* is team plasma itself, where in one of their first appearances two grunts, claiming to want to protect Pokemon, repeatedly kick a fucking Munna not ten feet away from you.

These would be the leaders, the problems, the actual criminals stringing the others along who have been caught up in the momentum of finally having someone to just *hate*.

This would let the story also progress as you work your way up from the grunts (who may fall anywhere on the scale between shitheel or ideological warrior consumed by the movement) to the admins (who are all eerily powerful, well-connected, and giving away hints that their Pokemon are mistreated, its just that they have the language and reputation to avoid scrutiny) and finally to Ghetsis, who is the embodiment of these leaders in the worst way possible. Part of the story, then, would be figuring out where N falls, if what he's saying is just lip service or the truth, and it would make his struggle to reconcile the world Ghetsis has painted for him (one of casual Pokemon cruelty and Pokemon forced into subservient roles to do as humans wish) against the one he faces (one where Pokemon and humans work together--not always perfectly, but with a lot of care) and the slowly dawning realization that everything he's been told is a projection of how Ghetsis and his admins actually feel about Pokemon a lot more meaningful.

You could even include hints. Admins putting their Pokemon away whenever N is around, almost in a panic because if N got a single chance to speak to any of their Pokemon, the entire plot would go up in smoke.

N not knowing about certain operations or being intentionally redirected to you to keep him occupied as Ghetsis and his admins are finally allowed to throw their weight around.

By making it much more reflective of trends we know about today, you could get a fair bit more intense narrative about deceit and the real fucked up consequences of this kind of thing.

#pokemon #pokemon black and white #ramble #this is almost wholesale copy-pasted from a discord conversation #just wanted to preserve it for posterity #oxto ramble

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fate-magical-girls · 1 year ago

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I usually don't make highly personal opinionated rambles about comics, but seeing some of the Krakoa retrospectives on my timeline made me want to say this.

Krakoa was a highly creative direction for the X-men. It removed them from the superhero genre and set them off on a morally ambiguous, and as some would say corrupt and fundamentally flawed journey toward nation-building. The Krakoan era was extremely messy and Krakoa was neither complete utopia nor complete dystopia. It was empowering, it was horrifying. The X-men were finally allowed to enjoy their lives; the X-men committed atrocities. In this way, it was an extremely realistic way of examining how nations are founded and managed.

Everyone is, of course, entitled to their own opinions. However, just from my personal perceptions, I think only someone who's both extremely secure in their national identity, as well as someone who is part of the majority while also being dissatisfied by how their own group holds all the power, can say Fall of X and the abandonment of Krakoa is a good thing. Basically, they criticize Krakoa because they have the privilege of criticizing the concept of nation-states, having never lacked for a community. For everyone who has struggled with their identity and looked for a group, even if they aren't part of a community with collective trauma, Krakoa is extremely empowering. For the first time Marvel's biggest minority allegory had an identity, a community, and also took pride in it to the point of being movers and shakers on the global stage. So how is it not a tragedy that they've now lost their nation? It might appeal to the classic superhero fans, but it also feels like Marvel is offering only one model for how to be a minority. That is, minorities will be judged by the oppression forced on them, not the richness of their culture or what they can achieve.

I say this as an Asian-American, the child of immigrant parents. I say this as a history major. I say this as just one fan trying to summarize my perception of my favorite comics.

#x men #krakoa

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remove-the-veil · 7 months ago

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The State-Sanctioned Persecution of Baha'is in Iran

Or, why Iran was not some kind of human rights paradise even before the Revolution

Recently, I encountered some discussion regarding images of Iranian women prior to the Revolution that are commonly shown in feminist circles to demonstrate how easily women's rights can be taken away by oppressive governments. The post was mainly about how showing images of 'liberated' women in pre-Revolution Iran (dressed either in miniskirts or western-style business suits) was not neccessarily an accurate representation of the majority of women in Iran at that time, and that it also carries different connotations for Iranians due to representing the Westernisation that accompanied US/UK interventionism in Iran during that era. A comment was made that before 1953, Iran had a democratically elected leader, and if there hadn't been a US- backed coup, the subsequent reactionary 1979 Revolution might not have happened, which is certainly a pertinent point.

That being said, as someone from an Iranian Baha'i background, I feel the need to comment on the Western/American assumption that pre-Revolution Iran was ever some kind of paradise for women and other minority groups in the first place. The interventionism certainly did not help and sometimes made things even worse, but it is absolutely not the sole cause or origin of oppression, discrimination, and human rights abuses in Iranian society. And just because Iran was an democracy at one point doesn't mean that everything was perfect and that everyone within that society was safe and protected:

The Iranian constitution that was drafted during the Iranian Constitutional Revolution in 1906 set the groundwork for the institutionalized persecution of Baháʼís. While the constitution was modelled on Belgium's 1831 constitution, the provisions guaranteeing freedom of worship were omitted. Subsequent legislation provided some recognition to Zoroastrians, Jews and Christians as equal citizens under state law, but it did not guarantee freedom of religion and "gave unprecedented institutional powers to the clerical establishment."

After all, the religious leaders still held great sway and were keen to exert their power whenever possible. And yes, Iranian people still followed them. 'Not all Iranians' of course, but enough. Honour killings still happened. People suspected of homosexuality could still be stoned to death in towns and villages. Mob violence could still be instigated at turns by the government and/or by the Islamic clerics against the religious minority group that has been their favourite scapegoat since the Qajar Dynasty...aka, the Baha'is. (Back in the Qajar era, at least 20,000 were killed by the Shah.) Baha'i women in particular faced (and still face) persecution on two fronts: religious persecution for being Baha'is, and of course, oppression as women. During the 1950s, there was a state-sanctioned campaign to terrorise the Baha'i community:

[The] approved and coordinated the anti-Baháʼí campaign to incite public passion against the Baháʼís started in 1955 and included the spreading of anti-Baháʼí propaganda in national radio stations and official newspapers.

During the month of Ramadan in 1955, Sheikh Mohammad Taqi Falsafi, a populist preacher, started one of the highest-profile anti-Baháʼí propaganda schemes. After receiving permission from the Shah to state anti-Baháʼí rhetoric in his sermons, he encouraged other clergy to discuss the Baháʼí issue in their sermons. These sermons caused mob violence against Baháʼís; Baháʼí properties were destroyed, Baháʼí centres were looted, Baháʼí cemeteries desecrated, Baháʼís were killed, some hacked to pieces, Baháʼí women were abducted and forced to marry Muslims, and Baháʼís were expelled and dismissed from schools and employment.

[As a personal sidenote, my father was a child at this time and has many terrifying stories of his family having to move from town to escape mob violence. He once had to save his little brother from being beaten to death by a mob of fellow children in their village who had been incited to hate Baha'is and to kill them on sight.]

All of this is not to deny that persecution of Baha'is intensified and became much worse after the Revolution. It absolutely did. Over 200 Baha'is were killed in the aftermath, and many more were driven out of Iran, either physically forced to flee or forced to the fringes of society due to severen and relentless persecution. (Persecution which is still happening to this day.) I just personally find it difficult to see retroactive Western romanticisation of Iranian government or society during the pre-Revolution era, due to my own personal background and family history. I grew up with stories of the brutality of the Shahs and Mullahs dating back to the mid-1800s, and personally knowing many people who fled Iran, both before and after the Revolution....my family members included. There is no 'golden era' to go back to, from my perspective. Only the faintest glimmers of hope for a possible future in which all Iranians can live free from state-sanctioned religious oppression and persecution.

For further background on this subject, see below:

From the wiki article on Baháʼí Faith in Iran

Since its inception the Baháʼí Faith has promoted democratically elected councils; the promotion of modern education as a priority within families (with emphasis on female education) and specific encouragement of women's equality with men. Iranian Baháʼís have created schools, agricultural cooperatives, and medical clinics across the country for themselves and others. Iran is also where the greatest persecution of Baháʼís has taken place—including the denial of education, arbitrary arrest, and killing. Iran's long history of state-sponsored persecution against Bábís and Baháʼís is well documented. The website "Archives of Baháʼí Persecution in Iran" has compiled thousands of documents, reports, testimonials, photos, and videos revealing proof of efforts to suppress and eliminate Baháʼís, particularly since the Iranian revolution of 1979.

From the wiki article on Persecution of Baháʼís

The Baháʼí Faith was established in 1863 by Baháʼu'lláh in Qajar Persia. Eighty-nine percent of Iranians adhere to the Twelver branch of Shiʻa Islam, which holds as a core doctrine the expected advent of a messianic figure known as the Qa'im or as the Imam Mahdi. The Báb claimed he was the Imam Mahdi and thus he had equal status to Muhammad with the power, which he exercised, to abrogate the final provisions of Islamic law. Baháʼu'lláh, a Bábí who claimed to be the one foretold by the Báb, claimed a similar station for himself in 1863 as a Manifestation of God and as the promised figure foretold in the sacred scriptures of the major religious traditions of the past and founded what later came to be known as the Baháʼí Faith. Concerning the historical context of the persecutions, Friedrich W. Affolter in "War Crimes, Genocide, & Crimes against Humanity" writes:

"Baháʼu'lláh's writings deal with a variety of themes that challenge long-cherished doctrines of Shí'i Islam. In addition to making the 'heretic'[sic] claim of being a 'Manifestation of God,' he suggested that school curricula should include 'Western Sciences,' that the nation states (Muslim and non-Muslim) should establish a world federal government, and that men and women were equal. Baháʼu'lláh also wrote that in this time and age, priests were no longer necessary for religious guidance. Humanity, he argued, had reached an age of maturity where it was incumbent upon every individual to search for God and truth independently. These principles did not only call into question the need for a priesthood, but also the entire Shí'i ecclesiastical structure and the vast system of endowments, benefices and fees that sustained it. No surprise then that in the following decades until the overthrow of the Qájár dynasty in 1925, it was the mullas who instigated attacks against the Baháʼís in cities or villages where the clerical establishment was particularly influential."

From the wiki article on Táhirih, THE great 'Remover of Veils' herself. An influential poet, women's rights activist and theologian of the Bábí faith (precursor to the Baha'i Faith) in Iran:

Táhirih was probably best remembered for unveiling herself in an assemblage of men during the Conference of Badasht. The unveiling caused much controversy, but Báha'u'lláh named her Tahirih "the Pure One" at that same Conference. After the historic Conference of Badasht, a number of those who attended were so amazed at the fearlessness and outspoken language of that heroine, that they felt it their duty to acquaint the Báb with the character of her startling and unprecedented behaviour. They strove to tarnish the purity of her name. To their accusations the Bab replied: "What am I to say regarding her whom the Tongue of Power and Glory has named Tahirih [the Pure One]?" These words proved sufficient to silence those who had endeavoured to undermine her position. From that time onwards she was designated by the believers as Tahirih. The Báb continued to highly praise Táhirih and in one of his later writings equates Táhirih's station as equal to that of the seventeen other male 'Letters of the Living' combined. She was soon arrested and placed under house arrest in Tehran. In mid-1852 she was executed in secret on account of her Bábí faith and her unveiling. Before her death she declared: "You can kill me as soon as you like, but you cannot stop the emancipation of women." Since her death, Bábí and Baháʼí literature venerated her to the level of martyr, being described as "the first woman suffrage martyr". As a prominent Bábí (she was the seventeenth disciple or "Letter of the Living" of the Báb) she is highly regarded by followers of the Baháʼí Faith and Azalis and often mentioned in Baháʼí literature as an example of courage in the struggle for women's rights.