[insert current hyperfixation here]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DYd0Ey1gkGG/?igsh=MWkzYnJoanpxam5wcA==

OH FUCK YEAH!!!! That is so sick omg. I think I’ve seen this video before but I was amazed then and I’m loving it even more now thinking about a Demon Ringmaster.

That would be so sexy. Bc like why is that whole ringmaster outfit so hot?! I’ve been to the circus a few times and like damn there’s just something about them.

An elf maiden dances on feet of living wood sung into shape, planted in soil and watered when she takes them off. Every year she plants the old ones and sings a new pair. (Incidentally, the pair of peach saplings from three years ago have produced an excellent crop- She makes preserves from them, and despite the inevitable jokes about “toe-jam”, they are appreciated.)

A dwarf king has a metal fist, all tiny gears and fine wires, kept wound by a mischievous mine-spirit bound to the spring as punishment- the more it struggles, the tighter the spring. 

An orc chieftaness is regularly asked for the story of how she earned the name Wyrmthrottler- she boasts of how she strangled the dragon that ate her arm, and had her shaman make a new arm from its bones, with its fangs as the fingers.

A necromancer simply re-attached his old leg bones- Sacrificing a few mice each day keeps it going.

A pirate captain lost her arm to a shark attack: a passing selkie saved her, and gave her tattoos of kraken blood. Now she has an arm made of salt-water, that grows and wanes with the tides, and swings a cutlass as well as the original. (She doesn’t sail as far these days though: she doesn’t want her wife to worry.)

A wandering swordsman was broken at the waist- his ancestral armour allows him to walk again, as long as he keeps it polished, and burns incense to the ancestors regularly.

A high priestess has an eye made from a crystal ball- to predict the future, all she has to do is wink.

A bard was struck deaf by illness- he struck a deal with the god of music. Now he wears hearing-trumpets made from his old pipes, and dedicates his every song to the god of music- the better he plays, the better his hearing. (It is said his music could make statues weep, and he can hear a mouse fart at 60 paces.)

A princess has the arm of a golem, enchanted clay with mystic words carved in- her music tutor despairs of how her harp playing has become even worse, but her calligraphy tutor is ecstatic over her handwriting.

A goblin pickpocket has an arm made of whatever he steals- no-one feels his fingers, and even if they did, they couldn’t find their possessions amongst all the rest.  

A witch has eyes made from shadow and starlight, given to her in a game with a demon. Nobody dares to ask what she wagered- they aren’t even sure she won.

Chapter 12

Prologue | Previous | Next

AN: Honestly, nobody is more surprised than I that I'm finally posting this chapter. Not only did I have the shittiest year, hence the sudden hiatus, but I rewrote this chapter 6 times. Hopefully, this chapter will live up to your expectations. If anyone is still here. 😅

Warning(s): Brief mentions of death

୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧

The first time he calls you bird, it isn’t planned.

It slips out low and rough over comms, threaded between gunfire and static.

“Got eyes on the east stairwell—two hostiles,” you murmur, voice steady despite the chaos crackling through your headset. Your fingers move fast across the keyboard, pulling feeds from three separate cameras, stitching angles together in your mind like a map only you can see. “Third one lagging behind, limping. Might be wounded.”

A beat.

Then, in your ear—gravel and smoke and something almost amused.

“Christ… you see everything, don’t you, bird?”

The line goes quiet again, but the name sticks.

There was no time to see the sights or to, hell, meet your damn husband to-be. It didn’t help that no one would talk about him or tell you anything. Sure, he was a monster, but you needed to know… was he a beast? Would he be cruel or dismissive? Were there things he didn’t like or anything he loved?

The fact that no one was talking couldn’t bode well for your future. You weren’t sure if they were scared of him or just scared of you, all the servants sending you wary glances. As if you’re the one with claws and razor sharp teeth.

When the doors opened to the church and the fearful cries of your new subjects met your ears you started to understand. As you walked down the aisle their whispers of ‘a human queen, what a scandal’ met you in various forms and sentiments but you got the gist.

Yet your soon to be husband just stared at you with hearts in his eyes and a smug grin on his lips. Boldly declaring the words ‘I do’ for all to hear. As if daring his subjects to defy him, to speak out against the union.

When no one did you started to understand just how powerful he was and a fiery heat bloomed between your thighs as you noted how he used that power to stand up for you.

No one expects the marriage to last or even be properly consummated. You hear all their quiet complaints as the following reception wears on. A human and a monster could never work. He’ll end up destroying you, without a doubt. It simply wasn’t compatible. According to them anyway.

When the wedding night arrives and your cries, shrieks, and screams echo throughout the palace they surely think it has been done. Already they prepare to mourn you while secretly scheming on how to become the next Queen.

But the only thing your new husband is destroying is not you but your sloppy fat cunt. His fangs don’t sink into your flesh to draw blood but to claim you for everyone to see. Using his claws not to wound you but to mark you as they dig into your plush waist so that he can slam you back down his massive cock.

Making you bounce on it while driving his cock deep into your untouched fuck hole, over and over again, dragging his length along your silken walls and rearranging your guts. He hadn’t been gentle and told you as such, he wasn’t a gentle monster. But he promised a pleasure that has never previously been known to your realm, that pain or suffering would be an unknown sensation with him.

With every hard thrust he made good on his promise. His spongy engorged cockhead swiveling through your insides, catching dollops of your combined previous releases and using it to plow into you even deeper. Drawing harsher cries and mewls of ecstasy out from your already raw and aching throat. Wrecking you in the best possible way.

Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, using anything, trying desperately, to ground yourself in him. He’s simply too tempted to lure you higher and higher into undiscovered levels of pure bliss with every climax he squeezes out of your poor bruised and battered cunt. Taking you against every surface, piece of furniture, and angle that a human and monster could reach.

The drive of his hips as he pounds into you, the motion a rapid blur, grows sloppier the closer he gets to another release. Only allowing himself to slip as your silken walls flutter and throb against the veins of his shaft, shooting zaps of pleasure straight to his tightening twitching balls.

“Does my Queen wanna ‘nother load of their King’s cum? Y’know we must perform our duties,,, give the kingdom an heir,” he purrs, the sound rolling into a growl as his claw spans your around round belly. All filled up with his cum.

Surely this one will take. He can feel it as you both spasm with yet another orgasm. Your screams of his name have him coming even harder, ropes of hot semen spurting out of him with clear aim, the sheer amount of it gushes out his other loads before quickly replacing it with another.

Nothings gonna go to waste on his watch though as he fucks you through it, scooping up everything that spills out in order to fuck it back straight into your weeping slutty womb.

And months later when the Monster King is holding his heir in his arms like they’re the most precious thing to ever exist, after his darling Queen, none of your subjects can deny his love for the royal family.

When you went to the Angel Agency looking for work, the last thing you expected was to be assigned as a Cupid. At most you thought they’d out you in, I don’t know, customer service or something. Not whatever this was.

The Grumpy Cupid training you wasn’t having that much of a good time either. If his face said anything to say about it. Out of everything he was doing (ei: scowling and crossing his arms) the one thing he wasn’t doing was helping. He’s just standing there watching you struggle helplessly.

With another whine and a huff of frustration you drop your arms. They’re tried. And you look at him with that little pout of yours, silently asking for help. Of course he doesn’t take the bait, watching you blankly.

“Aren’t you gonna help me? Or at least answer me,” you grumble under your breath, attempting to look over your shoulder where the arrows sit so innocently. Yeah, right. Innocent your butt.

“Because it’s what you asked for. You wanted a job and you got one.”

You only got this stupid job was because you were so painfully bored. No one ever talks about how dull the afterlife is. Paradise is pretty subjective turns out.

“I didn’t know it was gonna be like this though! The movies back on earth never said cupids were supposed to be some master archers,” you ramble on, complaining without caring if he was listening.

Gosh, you missed earth. That’s the one thing about being a Cupid you suppose. Being able to go back to earth and help people find love. Grumpy Cupid disrupts your thoughts with a sharp sigh. Refusing to meet your eye he stomps over and nearly yanks you in the air with the force of him pulling an arrow from your sling.

“When has life ever been like the movies?”

“But this is the afterlife.”

“Don’t be smart,” he snaps, shoving the arrow into your chest, letting his hand linger there for a beat too long before jerking away as if he’s been burned.

Your pout returns with a vengeance as you scramble to hold the arrow before it falls. That touch didn’t feel too bad. You wouldn’t mind more of it— no! Don’t think that way. Focus.

Forcing your attention back on the arrow you fumble around, trying to notch it in place on the bow. Low grunts escape from you as you literally turn in circles trying to keep it in place. Frustration growing by the minute till you’re sure you’re about to explore.

A delighted gasp instantly cuts you off from your subtle complaining as you finally get the arrow in. Yes, you did it! One step down and a million more to go to become a professional Cupid. In order to properly celebrate your hand lifts in the air to cheer but the release causes your arrow to fly… right into your leg.

The silence is deafening as you refuse to meet Grumpy Cupid’s eye. It takes a moment to gather your courage so you’re not surprised that when you do look you see him staring at you with a knowing disappoint. Wanting to snap back at him your mouth opens to shoot out some clever retort when all words die on your tongue, a sweet scent gracing your senses instead.

Soon after the nerves in your body begin to hum with a burning warmth, spreading throughout your body and shooting straight toward your glistening cunt. More and more slick begins to gush out of you, making a mess of your thighs, preparing your body for what’s to come.

“S-something’s— hah!— wrong,” you stammer out, breath heavy, your pussy clenching around nothing and aching to be filled.

Grumpy Cupid’s eyes start to widen as they flicker over your frame, realizing that indeed something isn’t right. That’s when it finally clicks and he notices the color of the heart on the arrow. You let out a squeak when he curses under his breath, already making his way toward you.

“I must’ve accidentally picked up an aphrodisiac arrow— dammit!”

“Accidentally?” You ask, full of innocence. Not noticing the brief flash of uncertainty that moves across his face.

“C’mon, lemme take care of this for you. Consider it part of your training as a Cupid,” he all but purrs, the rasp in his deep voice causing the pressure at the bottom of your belly to tighten already.

Can someone make you cum just from their voice alone? If so you may be about to because it’s doing things to you that you didn’t even know were possible.

All it takes is your meek little ‘please’ and he’s pouncing on you quick for someone you thought hated you a moment ago.

Thats how you find yourself a few moment later, cheek smushed against the practice room floor, his steadying hand curled gently around your throat to feel your every moan. Your uniform was practically torn to shreds to make room for the pounding flesh of wet hips smacking against each other with a loud crack!, the brutal pace of his cock driving into your plush frame shakes you to your very core. Only making you burn that much hotter till a thick squelch meets your ear every time.

You try and release a soft mewl but his fist merely tightens around your throat, blocking off all air. Rolling your eyes back he fucks all of your thoughts right out of your head, leaving you deliciously wrecked and slobbering all over his cock, your essence dripping down between your bodies and creating a puddle beneath you.

No matter what you were doing or how many times he’s fucked you to completion, the burning needy sensation of the aphrodisiac refuses to leave your body. Not even a body anymore, you’re nothing but a mush of limbs to be used for his pleasure. And you want it that way, to be thrown around and manhandled while his throbbing tip make-outs with your poor bruised cervix.

“Thought you were pretty before. But like, mmph, like this you’re perfecttt,” he growls, watching the way your body presses into his touch as he caresses every shape of you.

Grinding his teeth from the force of holding back he slides one hand against your hips, dipping it into the small of your back, angling you down to take him even deeper. You cry out, body jerking forward as if to run away despite the desire ravaging through your system.

“W-where the— fuuuuuck, yes— d’you think you’re goin’? Ya asked for this ‘member?”

He doesn’t let you get far, using his hold on your back and your throat to bottom out inside you in one solid snap of his hips. You can’t even catch your breath as he rolls his cock deeper and harden inside your molten hot cunt, every swirl of his length mixing up the loads of cum sloshing around inside you.

If you could talk or do anything besides take what he’s giving you while you sob out your gratefulness, hiccups and sloppy blubbering pushing past your lips, you’d do it. If only to push back harder into every smooth slippery glide of his veins brushing so perfectly along your sloppy chubby pussy.

Truly, Grumpy Cupid had never seen a more beautiful creature than when he first saw you. And now he’s never felt anything like you either. He thought he knew what heaven felt like but he had no idea. This was so much better— true paradise.

For the both of you it felt like the beginning and the end, your entire worlds shifted on their axis as he slams his cock inside you like he wants to live there. Maybe he does, maybe he wants to live within the warmth of your cunt and never leave. Spend the rest of eternity filling up your greedy little fuckhole.

Your jaw drops as he starts driving his length right into that special spot inside you again and again, aiming to demolish you— mind, body, and soul. He simply laughs like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you and relishes in it. At least you’ve found something you’re good for.

“Look at you, you’re meant to be my pretty fuck doll, huh? Keep you stuffed with aphrodisiacs all day and leave you tied to my bed all day just waiting for me to give you the relief only I can provide,” he growls hotly in your ear and you shiver from head-to-toe, body curling into his in agreement.

It’s nearly impossible to speak through his grip on your neck that sends you soaring toward your peak. But you choke on every moan, whimper, and sob he brings out of you.

With one more steady pounding of his cock right where you need it most you’re thrown for a loop, drowning in pleasure as you cum. Every inch of you convulsing as it wracks through you and takes control, your essence painting his cock with even more of your precious cum. He’s not far behind you, burrowing as deep into your cervix as he can reach before flooding your tight silken channel with as much of his release as he can manage.

Finally it seems as with this last orgasm the heat that has been consuming you all afternoon pours out of you with your climax. Taking all the remaining crumbs of your energy left with it and you melt into the floor, landing in your own combined fluids with a wet plop.

“Lesson one: don’t mix up your arrows,” he whispers in your ear a moment later, chuckling darkly and pushing out you, giving your ass a small slap on the way out.

stop saying that "changbin looks better now" i am so fucking serious

I understand there is a lot of controversy going around about Changbins debauchery last night. I understand theres a lot of us who are losing our minds meanwhile a lot of us are upset given the way Changbin has been talking lately in regards to weightloss and 'getting in shape'. A lot of you feel like he was pressured into showing off his body by Stay, and a lot of you are angry that he "gave into the pressure" of "losing weight to please us" (wdyem??). But how do you know that's what made him do it?

Yes, he's always been proud of his bulking and the body structure he built since debut. Yes, he's talked about never wanting to show off his body and giving into the pressure set on him by society and by the fans. But those of you who are going off saying youre disappointed and angry at us for "making" him do it, do you even hear yourself?

Changbin is his own person. We didn't make him do shit. And people change. Yeah, predebut Changbin wanted to bulk up. He did that. But did you guys ever stop to think that maybe he's changed his mindset as he's grown older? Maybe his ideal body goal has changed in the last 7 years. Whose hasn't? As we grow, our self-imagine and our mindsets change, and its perfectly okay. Its normal.

Am I saying his did? No. But I'm also not saying his didn't.

Either way, we don't know. could Stay have played a big part in what he did and he felt pressured to do it? Yes. Could it all have been his own doing and he wanted to do it because he is becoming proud of the body he has? Also yes. The point is we don't know why he did it, so why the fuck are we assuming shit and fighting about it like children? The only person who knows why he did it is himself.

Call me insane, but I think we should be focusing more on the confidence and happiness hes found within himself lately, regardless of Stays opinion or not, and stop speculating what goes on in his mind and why he did what he did.

gfkjldghfd okay first of all I'm sorry for the confusion, if you're not finding anything on the phrase it's because I made it up and absolutely nobody but me ever uses it, but I haven't found a better way to express what I'm trying to say so I keep using it. but now you've given me an excuse to ramble on about some shit that is only relevant to me and my deeply inefficient way of talking and by god I'm going to take it.

SO. the way diegetic and non-diegetic are normally used is to talk about music and sound design in movies/tv shows. in case you aren't familiar with that concept, here's a rundown:

diegetic sound is sound that happens within the world of the movie/show and can be acknowledged by the characters, like a song playing on the stereo during a driving scene, or sung on stage in Phantom of the Opera. it's also most other sounds that happen in a movie, like the sounds of traffic in a city scene, or a thunderclap, or a marching band passing by. or one of the three stock horse sounds they use in every movie with a horse in it even though horses don't really vocalize much in real life, but that's beside the point, the horse is supposed to be actually making that noise within the movie's world and the characters can hear it whinnying.

non-diegetic sound is any sound that doesn't exist in the world of the movie/show and can't be perceived by the characters. this includes things like laugh tracks and most soundtrack music. when Duel of Fates plays in Star Wars during the lightsaber fight for dramatic effect, that's non-diegetic. it exists to the audience, but the characters don't know their fight is being backed by sick ass music and, sadly, can't hear it.

the lines can get blurry between the two, you've probably seen the film trope where the clearly non-diegetic music in the title sequence fades out to the same music, now diegetic and playing from the character's car stereo. and then there are things like Phantom of the Opera as mentioned above, where the soundtrack is also part of the plot, but Phantom of the Opera does also have segments of non-diegetic music: the Phantom probably does not have an entire orchestra and some guy with an electric guitar hiding down in his sewer just waiting for someone to break into song, but both of those show up in the songs they sing down there.

now, on to how I apply this to bdsm in fiction.

if I'm referring to diegetic bdsm what I mean is that the bdsm is acknowledged for what it is in-world. the characters themselves are roleplaying whatever scenarios their scenes involve and are operating with knowledge of real life rules/safety practices. if there's cnc depicted, it will be apparent at some point, usually right away, that both characters actually are fully consenting and it's all just a planned scene, and you'll often see on-screen negotiation and aftercare, and elements of the story may involve the kink community wherever the characters are. Love and Leashes is a great example of this, 50 Shades and Bonding are terrible examples of this, but they all feature characters that know they're doing bdsm and are intentional about it.

if I'm talking about non-diegetic bdsm, I'm referring to a story that portrays certain kinks without the direct acknowledgement that the characters are doing bdsm. this would be something like Captive Prince, or Phantom of the Opera again, or the vast majority of bodice ripper type stories where an innocent woman is kidnapped by a pirate king or something and totally doesn't want to be ravished but then it turns out he's so cool and sexy and good at ravishing that she decides she's into it and becomes his pirate consort or whatever it is that happens at the end of those books. the characters don't know they're playing out a cnc or D/s fantasy, and in-universe it's often straight up noncon or dubcon rather than cnc at all. the thing about entirely non-diegetic bdsm is that it's almost always Problematic™ in some way if you're not willing to meet the story where it's at, but as long as you're not judging it by the standards of diegetic bdsm, it's just providing the reader the same thing that a partner in a scene would: the illusion of whatever risk or taboo floats your boat, sometimes to extremes that can't be replicated in real life due to safety, practicality, physics, the law, vampires not being real, etc. it's consensual by default because it's already pretend; the characters are vehicles for the story and not actually people who can be hurt, and the reader chose to pick up the book and is aware that nothing in it is real, so it's all good.

this difference is where people tend to get hung up in the discourse, from what I've observed. which is why I started using this phrasing, because I think it's very crucial to be able to differentiate which one you're talking about if you try to have a conversation with someone about the portrayal of bdsm in media. it would also, frankly, be useful for tagging, because sometimes when you're in the mood for non-diegetic bodice ripper shit you'd call the police over in real life, it can get really annoying to read paragraphs of negotiation and check-ins that break the illusion of the scene and so on, and the opposite can be jarring too.

it's very possible to blur these together the same way Phantom of the Opera blurs its diegetic and non-diegetic music as well. this leaves you even more open to being misunderstood by people reading in bad faith, but it can also be really fun to play with. @not-poignant writes fantastic fanfic, novels, and original serials on ao3 that pull this off really well, if you're okay with some dark shit in your fiction I would highly recommend their work. some of it does get really fucking dark in places though, just like. be advised. read the tags and all that.