#sweetbitterbitten

[thememoryofadream]

New year, new Jake video. It's a sickness, I can't help it.

Song: Figure You Out - Voilà

*some gifs from the most excellent @doloresgifs page.

[fiendishfinesse]

(estella staggers into whatever room raphael is in and throws a drugged peach at his head that she’s already taken a large bite out of) ((a sort of hellish Snow White/labyrinth fruit trick he played on her))

Nothing says 'healthy marriage' quite like chemical subjugation <3 raph x arranged wifey estella

Thwack. A peach hit him in the head. A vein pulsed visibly in his forehead. A nose scrunched. With a painful grunt, he grabbed the fruit to look at the generous bite she’d made in the flesh.

“Such violent affections” he scorned “and here I thought we were working on your table manners.”

The devil brought the peach to his nose. Sickly sweet, barely masking the chemical tang he had injected into its fibres. As she swayed in the doorway, toxins rendering her limbs numb but not robbing her of consciousness (much), Raphael looked up at her with endless, insufferable amusement.

“I see you found my little offering.” He stood, setting the fruit aflame with a spell, making it vanish in a burst of hellfire.

But oh, the delight of gravity’s inevitable grasp. . .

He moved with uncanny timing, as if he could distinguish precisely which phase of the stupor she entered. Raphael caught her just before she hit the rug, scooping her up into his arms.

“There we are” A domesticated wildcat (as his dear wife was) wouldn’t bite. His tail twitched side to side gleefully. “Into my arms, my dear. Where you belong.”

The oil he’d laced the fruit with was a particular favourite of his. It didn’t just steal strength; it whispered to the mind. It made the sound of his voice feel like a warm hearth in winter

He walked her back to the dressing room. A snap of his fingers, and the wardrobe opens to reveal the midnight-blue gown she had so harshly rejected earlier.

“If you decline to assume the role of my wife for the dinner, I will be compelled to dress you myself.”

All the fuss because she thought his taste was ‘horrid, disgraceful, disgusting, just like his very being’ or something. He spent days selecting that gown. Days. If she doesn’t wear it, he’ll likely sulk for a decade.

“Do you realize how close you are to joining that peach in the fire, my dear? I would pluck the skin from your bones and hang you from the rafters if I were not obligated to participate in this absurd union by my father’s will.” He complains, setting Estella down hard on an ottoman.

[liz19forever]

[hywelimawr]

Kink - being scolded

Send in Kinks & My muse will Rate Them | 𝔞𝔠𝔠𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤

Definitely not | No | Not Really | Its Okay | Kinda | Yes | Fuck yes |There goes my pants |

Bonus: Giving | Receiving | Both

[niratias]

@sweetbitterbitten || Mimzy's got a very annoying tiger in her way

"C'mon." Mox presses his spine against the doorframe, one leg kicked out, refusing her exit from the dressing room. It's the opposite of sultry. He wriggles against the frame like he's practicing for a role in The Jungle Book.

"C'monnnn," he whines again, giving her his best puppydog eyes. "Please?"

[heedingcalls]

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual) for kitty, striker

nsfw alphabet

Striker is really quite about what his kinks are and, honestly, a lot of them are chill. He likes bondage, which is no surprise to anyone because he has a large amount of rope at his disposal. He likes knife play and blood play on the right occasion, with the right person. He likes thigh fucking, quite a bit. There's just something about it that really works for him, especially because I headcanon him as being larger than his canon depiction. He likes having a partner in his lap in that capacity.

In another surprise to NOBODY, Kitty has a large affinity for size differences. Frankly.... She wants to be like this.

[godresembled]

@sweetbitterbitten asked ❝ slap or kiss ❞

"you're much more slappable than kissable."

[threecardtrick]

“speak true - do you want love or an audience?” - clara oswin oswald (she’s essentially a time traveler/dream walker/scary mary poppins with wide eyes that see everything so - have fun with that!)

"neither," he answers, truthfully, tongue twisting compulsively like a snake. what is love — when it only dies? when he can only seem to kill it? and what use is a spotlight, when the sun exposes you to all of your enemies? no, he chooses solitude & shadows. "and what do you choose, my lady?"