hi!!!! yes, you can!! and thank you for sending, lovely ♥️
🔪 i want you to ruin my life (thiam)
Kidnapping; Drugging; Kinks
“So you’re saying that all of this…” Theo gestured to the room, his voice rough and dry. He needed water. Desperately. “...is my fault? You committed a crime and it’s my fault? Really, Liam?”
“No, shut up—let me speak,” Liam stammered for a second, his alpha role fading, cheeks flushing. It was cute. Theo wanted to frame it. He didn’t care that Liam had committed a crime against him. The man could tie him up anywhere, fuck him raw and hard, and make Theo swallow his cock, and he would still be thankful for it. He was very immersed in his feelings at that moment. He just wanted Liam. But all of him. Not just that. “Like, it’s not like that. It’s not a crime. It was just a mess I made.”
Theo smiled mischievously. “Kidnapping is a crime—and you drugged me. I can leave here and go straight to the police.”
💍 for him (part 2) thiam
His life would be awful, a complete mess without him, that was true. Liam didn't even want to imagine what life would be like without Theo. He was the shape of his life. His future. Well, he was for Liam. Perhaps, if Theo truly meant that when he proposed to him in a possible limbo between lucidity and drunkenness, Liam was also the embodiment of his future.
They’ve been together for so long. It wasn’t just empty words and late-night sex. It was six years of love and sharing hopes and dreams, fears and a roof over their heads.
100 Questions for Couples: Basic Information: Expectations
This Tender Tuesday explores the structured nature of Sephiroth and Bianca’s relationship in Fantasy Worlds Collide. Rather than unfolding as a spontaneous romance, their bond operated within a carefully maintained system of consent, control, and ritual.
The focus is on how discipline, hierarchy, and mutual understanding shaped their emotional and physical connection, revealing how both partners met their distinct needs through a shared commitment to order and purpose.
Possible Trigger Warnings: control, dominance, hierarchy, manipulation, power dynamics, submission
Sephiroth and Bianca’s relationship in Fantasy Worlds Collide functioned as a deliberate structure rather than a romantic improvisation. Both partners operated within a power dynamic rooted in mutual consent, ritual, and hierarchy.
Sephiroth expected stability, loyalty, and synchronization in purpose, viewing the relationship as both a partnership and a system of order and as part of his path of conquest. Bianca, by contrast, sought emotional saturation and reassurance: proof that her existence mattered through Sephiroth’s control, attention, and touch. The equilibrium between dominance and submission met both needs, providing emotional containment for her volatility and purposeful validation for his control.
Sephiroth’s expectations centered on discipline and consistency. He did not seek emotional catharsis but structural reliability: obedience, devotion, and precision in how Bianca aligned with him. Emotional chaos was tolerated only when ritualized and transformed into reaffirmation of order.
Acts of Service, his primary love language, dictated that intimacy must translate into productivity and control. He expected her to challenge him only within the confines of their established hierarchy, not as rebellion but as proof of resilience and understanding.
Bianca’s expectations leaned toward physical and emotional immediacy. Her need for touch, reassurance, and attention defined her relational expectations. She did not seek equality in authority but parity in importance. She wanted to matter as much to him as his mission or dominion.
For Bianca, the relationship served as both grounding and spectacle. Conflict became a ritual of intimacy rather than dysfunction. She expected protection, constancy, and visible proof of possession, interpreting restraint, proximity, and attention as evidence of love.
Together, they maintained a cyclical system of provocation and restoration. Sephiroth’s enforcement of discipline stabilized Bianca’s impulsive nature, while her dramatics tested and reaffirmed his patience and dominance. The expectation on both sides was not calm but controlled volatility: conflict as recalibration rather than threat.
Neither partner sought tranquility. Instead, they pursued equilibrium through ritualized tension. Each understood the function of power and surrender as language, not hierarchy.
Their relationship expectations were pragmatic and self-sustaining. Both required the other to maintain alignment with their shared cosmic purpose: reshaping existence and safeguarding their divine dominion.
Affection, dominance, and obedience were tools for ensuring unity, not substitutes for emotional development. Each accepted that their connection depended on discipline, consent, and unflinching mutual recognition of power. What began as strategic necessity evolved into enduring stability through shared structure.
This is a longer blurb, meaning my quality will be ass for the rest of the day. Enjoy!! TW: crying, parents leaving, mommy kinks and potential crunchiness.
“Harry, sweetie, what’s wrong?” You were sitting on your bed with your laptop, finishing up some assignments.
Harry tried to hide his tear stained face from you, but it was no use.
“Come here,” you opened your arms to him. “Wanna snuggle up?”
He nodded and cuddled up with you. He rested his head into your side, beside your breast, and wrapped his top arm lazily around you. You wrapped a blanket around the two of you and he sighed.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, brushing loose curls from his tear soaked cheeks. “Can you tell me?”
He nodded, taking a ragged breath. “I know we’re almost done with this part of the tour but I feel like my management isn’t upholding their end of the deal. It feels like the world is crumbling on my shoulders.”
You rubbed his back and remained silent so he could say what he needed to. When he appeared to be finished, you asked if he could hold on for two more weeks or if he needed to talk to his management about it.
He shook his head, but you knew how stressed out he was.
“I can talk to them if you need?”
“No, Baby,” he shot your idea down. “I’m okay now that I’ve got that off my chest.”
You massaged his head while he sniffled, and eventually he moved his head so it was laying on your chest, on top of your breasts. “Mumma,” he mumbled softly.
“What!?” you burst out. He had never called you that before and you didn’t know if it was a kink or if he was just playing.
“Mumma! You’re holding me just like a mother holds her baby.”
“Oh.”
“Mumma,” he said in a squeaky baby voice.
“Baby boy!” you squeaked back without missing a beat.
“My nose is runny from crying,” he commented and you reached over to your nightstand for your tissue box.
“Here, sit up.” you held a tissue to his nose and he started laughing before pulling away.
“Baby, that’s weird!”
“If you do it, you get a prize!” you raised your eyebrows to intrigue him. “Yes?”
He made a pouty face, but didn’t pull away.
“Blow,” you instructed and he did. You let him finish on his own and he collapsed on your chest, cheeks red from embarrassment.
“Good boy!” You praised him. “So you want a cookie?”
“Yes!”
“Let’s go downstairs,” you stood up and he didn’t follow you. “Come on! Come on!”
“Babies can’t walk,” he informed you.
“Babies aren’t usually six feet tall.”
He stood up and followed you downstairs and sat on the floor behind you when you got him his cookie. “You need to wash your hands,” you said in the same fake, phony tone you’d been using for the past ten minutes. You handed him a wet wipe and he patted it on his hands and you led him to the table where you gave him his cookie.
He gobbled it up before asking for another one. You replied with a no, explaining that babies should only have one cookie.
He pouted again and, like the good boy he was, asked permission before burning the house down.
“Absolutely not!” you scolded him. “Mama didn’t raise a bitch!”
He slammed his fist gently down on the sound table, but it still toppled his glass over. “Oops…”
“Harry,” you laughed, springing up to get paper towels. “What the hell— babies don’t do that.”
“I know!” he cried, mortified before switching voices again. “I’m going to be a professional fire starter when I grow up!” He grinned proudly.
“Honey,” you sat down, soaking wet rags in hand. “I’ve been meaning to have this talk with you for a long time. I’ve decided that you will follow in your father’s footsteps.”
“You mean going to get milk?” he asked in his baby voice, eyebrows raised to his hairline.
You had just taken a drink of what was left in your cup and you spat it everywhere. “Well that escalated quickly!” you choked. “But you know what else mommies do?”
“What?”
“They give their babies bubble baths and read them bedtime stories and tuck them in!”
“What the heck?”
“You just ate a cookie at eleven at night and almost destroyed my table. Do you think that’s too far off?”
“No, Mumma.”
“Good. Mommy is going to get you your bath toys and put some bubbles in the tub for you. Come on, honey.”
“Yaayyy!” his voice cracked down into his normal register and he wore an embarrassed expression, but he didn’t let down his side of the deal.
As you ran his bath, he got undressed. “Is mummy going to take a bath with me?”
“Nope,” you said, smiling as you squirted bubbles into the tub. “But I can watch you play!”
“Oh.” He pouted until you told him where you were going with the “father’s footprints” thing. “I was going to say he was a world-renowned surgeon. You talked to him as he sat in the bubbles for a few minutes before saying that he needed to get out. He drained the water before hopping out and you dried him off with a fluffy towel.
“Let’s get you into your pajamas and read you a bedtime story!” you said cheerfully as you lathered lotion onto his body, trying to ignore how sexy he was. You needed to pretend that he was a baby. He helped rub the rest in and you had to kiss him a little bit.
He followed you back to the bedroom where you watched him get into his pajamas and you combed his hair. He climbed into your lap at the best of his ability and you took out your book and began reading to him.
“Once upon a time,” you began, not really reading from the book. You recited your favorite fairytale by heart and, when you were finished, you looked down and saw Harry sleeping peacefully. Not pretending. Really sleeping, a tiny smile formed across his lips.
You kissed his forehead before turning out the lights. “Good boy,” you whispered.
I could go on for hours, and hours, and hours. Gonna do 2 that comes to my mind straight away.
Orgasm control, and to be very, very basic I'd also say sensory play.
