- MINORS DNI you will be blocked and if I suspect a minor is following me I'm nuking this blog
-Ageless bios WILL be blocked. I'm not taking any chances
- he/him pronouns but doll and fae are cool too
- if you recognize me from my main No You Don't
I'm Lizzie for @godsboytoy 's Endless Empires AU!
Cake talk: for my asks from other blogs
Cupcake: for my reblogs
Cake walk: for my originals
Cake slice: for asks
Frosting: for art
I'll find a way to tag characters and specific anons/users and I'll somehow make them cake related
I'll tag anything specific, just ask!
BOUNDARIES
- race play
It's easier to write what I won't write/don't like than what I will write/ like. So. Don't ask for these pretty please
- scat
- snuff/necro
-mtf detrans
- sounding but only because I don't. Understand it
- ageplay/deage/underage
Other than that, there's a lot up for grabs! If you recognize me from my anons, then you'll know what I like! Though you can't go wrong with bimbofication, ftm detrans, pet play, breeding, monster/mob fucking, that sorta stuff!
Also if I've ever sent an ask to your blog, can you tag it cake anon or 🍰 anon so I can rb it? Thanks yall!
Seen you were active and decided to climb out of the depths for Father’s Day to say I’m thinking about Jimmy and Tango celebrating Father’s Day but really it’s just Jimmy on his back crying and calling Tango daddy while he fucks him
~🫶🏻
Tango feels his knees buckle with every thrust, his back aches. He’s not made for rigorous activity like this anymore. But it’s so worth it. It’s worth it the way he sees Jim fall apart under him, panting rough and fingernails clawing at Tango’s back. It’s worth it because Jim is indulging him in one of his most shameful kinks.
As a dad you shouldn’t like being called ‘daddy’ during sex. Sure, maybe by your wife when she’s pregnant, or a girlfriend with whom you’re trying to start a family. Definitely not by your online friend-turned-crush who is almost twenty years younger than you. Young enough to be your kid. Tango’s stomach does backflips when he thinks about that.
But fuck, he loves the way Jimmy whimpers and squeals for him, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth and pleading for his daddy to fuck him harder, to make him feel good.
“Mmghf—-fuck daddy- daddy please-!” His eyes roll back into his skull and it takes everything in Tango to not cum on the spot. “Please daddy I’ve been—good mm- I wanna make you feel s’good daddy I’ve been a good—good boy- lem’me make you feel good daddy m—my present to you~” Jim’s words are slurred and Tango is pretty sure he’s unaware of what he’s saying. If that ruined look is anything to go by.
“Don’t worry pretty boy,” Tango’s hand wraps around Jim’s neck, “daddy’s got all he needs right here.” He says before folding Jim in half.
to me, jimmy is such a whore. i think he should be passed around by every lifer and every hermitcrafter.
he should fuck his way onto hermitcraft then become a public free use toy. honestly either c or cc because that guy is just a manwhore to me. he deserves to be banged by people who could be his father and be incredibly weird about it
anyways lmao, im normal
Heres a little thingy
Not a lot...maybe I'll write more one day. Long fics have never been my forte, as you can tell.
Warnings: Free use jimmy, Grian volunteered him to do so, but he doesn't mind, a lot of cum is in him, buttplug, also Doc is a creeper hybrid and has a massive dick
ok? ok.
He was just trying to work on his base, honest! He's really trying to make a good impression on the Hermits. He's familiar with a few of them already of course, through life series and other SMPs. Though there's a few Hermits that were hesitant to have him join at first - they knew who he was they just didn't really think his work fit in with their server and that's fine!
Grian, however, didn't think so. The man really wanted -no- needed Jimmy there with him. So he had an idea, and if Grian has one of those it usually means trouble.
Grian had volunteered Jim to be the server's free use plaything.
Now, Jimmy didn't exactly mind it, if anything, he got a raging boner off of it. Grian knew that would happen - what kind of friend would he be if he didn't know what turns his friends on, ey?
But it would be nice to get a heads up instead of:
"Hey Jim, the Hermits and I would love to welcome you to the Hermitcraft Server! Oh and also you're gonna be our free use toy."
So that's how he ended up here, blocks still scattered on the floor from him being dragged down by Doc's strong claws. "Needed this - for many seasons. Sure we mess around but I've never had the pleasure of having a toy like you, Solidarity." Jimmy whines, feeling sharp nails paw at the plug shoved deep inside of him.
"R-really man, you can call me Jimmy I-I don't mind. You're already gonna fuck me so...what's a little more informality?"
Doc all but grunts behind him, tugging the plug from his aching hole. "Jesus. How many came in you already, man?! I got it in my fur - ugh - it's gonna crust..." Doc wipes at his fur, rubbing away a drop of cum that seeped from Jim's ass.
"Uhh..." Jimmy scratches his stubble, "Well, Grian, of course...Uhh..Joel, Keralis. Not many. I just--I think Joel -ah- he cums a-a lot." He manages to mumble out all the while doc's fingers circle the ring of muscles that give entrance to his hole, now loose and fucked out.
It doesn't take long for dock to take himself out of his trousers and press his weeping tip to the mess that is Jimmy's ass. "Gonna feel so good for me."
Jim yelps - almost screams when he feels Doc's massive cock piercing him. So that's what creeper dick feels like.
They’re like growling fighting tearing at each other’s throats and Martyn is like this is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Can you do that to me next.
martyn baring his neck inconspicuously and both rens look at him like "oh yeah i guess we could stop fighting for you" and martyns like "NO. TO ME."
EEEEE preacher is a lot more willing to get his hands dirty and hurt martyn tho, and renhardt treats him like hes made of glass, so preacher is slapping him around almost throwing his thighs apart while renhardt is making out with him soooo gentle, one hand around martyns wrists so he feels all held and wanted and the other is massaging his tit and its such a contrast and martyn cant do anything about it <3333
Preacher ren and vsmp ren are like equal and opposite to me. Idk. Both need that blond thing desperately but have vastly different ways of coping. Both get called daddy.
and one of them takes his mouth and the other one takes his ass
ohhh kitty cellbo getting bent over cucurucho's desk and fucked..... kitty cellbo being cucurucho's personal toy..... cucurucho keeping kitty cellbo under its desk to suck its cock even when other fed workers come in to talk to it...... kitty cellbo mewling as curucucho breeds him......
i like to think that jizzie are the healthiest bdsm relationship in the life series. like they have frequent talks and negotiations on what they are and aren't comfortable with and they have a routine that works well for them regarding aftercare and post scene discussions and all that good stuff.
i also think they would both be disgusted and very confused about the rest of the servers severe lack of kink education.
i think jimmy will finally get to hit that (fuck joel) and would immediately go in guns blazing and ready to get down and dirty and joel is like woah woah woah, let's have a discussion first. and Jimmy is like oh yes of course! he'll tell me what hes not into and then we get to the fun stuff. and he's incredibly confused on when joel asks him for his boundaries too. joel is also confused, because he thought jimmy had done this before.
neither end up fucking that night and jimmy instead gets a long explanation on kink safety, proper aftercare, and power dynamics (because fuck does he need it.)
maybe he'll throw in a handjob if he takes notes idk
Okay this might only appeal to me and me only but I HAVE to expel these demons. If you would like to indulge me I will gladly explain
Empresses in the Palace/harem drama au
Emperor Xisuma
Empress Keralis
And the rest of the Hermits as concubines in the harem. Does ANYONE ELSE see my horny vision or am I putting one hyperfixation peg in a different hyperfixation shaped hole.
//spanking, belting, the evil mobile home au, bpdtyn, bdsm, aftercare, mentions of drugs/alcohol, offscreen negotiations, minor cnc ig?
//martyn/ren
In that damn ugly green recliner yet again. Martyn's been roaming the different houses, searching for Ren.
Just to avoid him, honestly. Figure out where he is so Martyn doesn't have to be around him, he promises.
"Martyn?" Ren asks.
And of course he's in their home, the one that False will crash in sometimes, or Doc, or some others but right now it's just the two of them. And Martyn's feeling that itch to cut his roots loose and get going, that everyone here wishes he'd just leave already.
He doesn't say anything, just slips right back outside.
When Martyn's halfway down the porch, the screen door opens behind him. "Martyn, are you mad at me?" Ren asks.
Casual. Casual. "Nah, just gotta–do my own thing. You know."
Ren's eyes are narrowed, his tail lowered, not in its usual wagging state. "You seem upset."
"I'm not!" Martyn hisses. Realizes, right afterwards, that wasn't quite the right thing to say. Not the right way to say it.
Above him, Ren's starting to morph from concerned to pissed off, too. "If there's an issue, Martyn, tell me."
Martyn tries to back down the rest of the steps, but Ren just follows. Fuck. "There's bloody <em>not</em>, you're ridiculous–"
A hand on the back of his neck. In the afternoon light, Ren's hair shines where it spills down his chest, curtains his face. "Come back inside with me."
"I don't want to, I've got other fucking shit to do."
"<em>Now</em>."
Martyn gets dragged back inside, manages to tear away, but he doesn't quite know where to go. Just stands in the living room, the bunched-up carpet under his feet from a shitty install job they still haven't fixed yet.
"You came in here looking for me, didn't you," Ren says.
"No, I wanted to see where you were so I could avoid you!"
There's a flash of something wounded on Ren's face, but it dissipates. "That... makes no sense. You could've just driven away. You didn't need to seek me out."
Martyn's going to kill him. He wants to kill him. He needs to. "Shut up!"
"Ah. Just one of your turns again, huh," Ren says. "That's fine. We've learned how to fix you right up, haven't we?"
Goddamnit. Ren's right. Martyn does have these–horrid moods, sometimes. And he can leave for a while and that will make the worst of the affliction leave, too, but–somehow–it's Ren hurting him, making him revel in agony, that does the trick fastest.
"Get on your knees," he commands.
Humiliating, bitingly so. Martyn does. His jeans are stiff from the clothes line, bite him at the joints, his ass.
"Tell me what you want."
There's no way Martyn can take this without a fight. "I want you to leave me alone."
"Mm. No. That's incorrect. Try again."
Martyn stares at the floor. It's like a medication of some kind, except Martyn hates medication. It took a joint effort for him to take all the stupid antibiotics from when he got his hand infected a while back, and he never takes painkillers, none of it. He should be able to take whatever's given to him. He should be able to deal with his own mind.
But he can't, not all the time. He has to dull it somehow, get ahold of something or another to make it happen, booze or pot. Acid, shrooms, LSD, a colorful few times that Martyn wound up not being fond of. Timothy Leary really doesn't know shit.
This is different from all that. Ren doesn't make his mind numb. He just sets it to rights, and Martyn doesn't know if he's ever deserved that.
It's quiet, just a box fan whirring in the window. It's getting to autumn, so the criminal lack of A/C isn't felt as bad as it was. One less thing to blame for Martyn's reoccuring spouts of madness, the answering insanity that is Ren sticking by his side.
"...God, please hurt me," Martyn finally begs, stares straight at the floor.
"How so? Go fetch it."
Now Martyn has to choose what Ren's going to use on him. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he hates this part. Something psychological about this, something torturous.
They were painting the spare bedroom, and Martyn knows they have paint stirrers in there. They sting like a bitch, but Ren will have to put in some serious effort to make it stay. Good.
He makes to get up, but–
"Crawl."
Everything that Ren makes him do, every little diminutive thing–it's counterintuitive. Martyn wonders for a second what the likes of Freud would think, if it's some sort of deep subconscious desire that makes him need this. Giving up control and having someone care enough to take him and keep him steady. Or maybe even that fucker would step back and wince and shrug.
He crawls to the room, over the cans of paint, nabs one that hasn't been used yet, brings it back.
Ren's back in his recliner, rocking, gentle. "How are we–" Martyn starts to ask.
"Over my lap. You're acting infantile, so we can do things like that this time."
Yup. Ren needs to fuck off and all that, but he's not wrong. Martyn crawls up, the wooden stirrer gets taken from him, and Ren pulls down his Levis and boxers and shows off his ass to the entire living room.
Gets rearranged, subtle, ass tilted up, thighs spread a tad. Less subtle, with a leather collar clicked around his neck, cuffs that force his elbows to bend behind his back and connect his wrists to his collar, where every tug pulls strange on Martyn's neck. Doesn't cut into his breathing, but it does into the artery, makes him dizzy if he doesn't relax. Ren's an asshole.
Ren's an asshole, and Martyn hates him– "Ow!" Martyn hisses, flinches at the first strike. "How many?"
"Until you're all settled down, baby," Ren murmurs. "So don't worry. I'm not allowing you to feel anything other than the pain, anymore, actually. Doesn't it feel good to let off?"
It's a bit like a drug, in that way. Ren starts bringing down just his palm, over and over, into the crest of Martyn's fat ass, making him have to dance with the pain quick, pant and cry at the continued tugs against the collar.
"Martyn. Cease," Ren commands.
"Stop telling me what to do, fuck you–"
Fingers in his hair yank him up. "Martyn. Apologize. Now." Ren's voice is quiet, deadly.
"Nah, I ain't doin' that–"
"That's it," Ren says, and, a second later, there's a rag shoved in Martyn's mouth, another one tied over the first, 'round the back of his head. "Ah. Perfect. We can leave you like that so you come to realize how much of a blessing speech is, and how privileged you are to be allowed to, and then we'll put you on speaking restrictions for the rest of the night. How's that, mm?"
A moan into the gag. Martyn's withering away into nothing.
"You're going to be a good boy, now? How lovely!"
Fuck off. He's doing his 'I'm deciding what you're thinking right now and responding to that' thing again. Seriously, what an asshole.
"Oh, I agree, I agree, this ass of yours needs to keep be punished more... you've been waiting for it too long, haven't you. We can graduate to the paint stirrer, now."
Ren lays into Martyn with the paint stirrer, too, each hit cracking with the impact, making Martyn jerk in Ren's lap. It's painful, deeply so, leaches down to the root of what Martyn is, mold spores that span his body, and Martyn looks to the side and barely remembers to breathe out his nose and something finally begins to settle inside him.
It's a few minutes of those rapid hard blows reddening up Martyn, and then–one really hard crack. A second later, the sound of wood hitting the carpet. "Oh. I–er. I broke it on your ass, Martyn," Ren murmurs, embarrassed.
Martyn can't help but to snort.
"Shush, I'm just going to finish things up with my belt, okay? I want your ass and thighs to be <em>bruised</em>. That'll be good for you."
He moans, weak, into the gag. He doesn't think the rag was clean, and the feeling of just having whatever's available used on him–oh, he feels kind of gross, kind of used. Very, very nice.
The sounds of leather getting drawn through his jeans, looped, rested against Martyn's ass. He's gotten used to this, of course. When Martyn misbehaves too much in public, gets too recalcitrant for Ren to stand, he'll take him to the back somewhere and make him lean against a wall and give him a decent few hits on the ass, and Martyn doesn't know how Ren doesn't realize that he does it on purpose, yet. Unless Ren just doesn't want to change a thing.
It's all of Ren's attention on him right now, all his focus, dedicated to putting Martyn through pain.
And that feels good, fuck.
He's gone and started crying into his gag partway through, body loosening up more and more. Ren forcing all the–the everything out of Martyn, the fight and all, making him almost subdued, except that's just a result of having nothing inside at all.
Ren finally puts the belt down, after a while, palms Martyn's ass, squeezes. That–that hurts. "That heat's just radiating off ya, isn't it, baby?" Ren says.
Martyn nods.
"Hurtin' good for me?"
Another nod.
"Very good. I'll let you up, now."
The gag comes undone, and so does the tie that connects his cuffs to his collar, but those don't actually come off. Martyn looks at him, mouth hanging open, but he doesn't need to talk anymore. Ren will decide that. In the fuzziness that's enveloped Martyn's brain, he doesn't need to do anything unless Ren dictates it for him.
"Feelin' good, baby? Or do you need some more. You may speak now."
"You don't need to 'sir' me. Glad to hear it, though. Go fetch a skirt and get out of those jeans, and we'll cuddle, okay?"
Martyn does, fetches a short one because that's what Ren wants for him, he already knows, settles back on his lap. Sitting aches, his ass burning, the worst of it throbbing; it makes Martyn hum all happy and settle on Ren's lap.
"Very, very good for me." An arm around Martyn, a hand in his hair. "Let's see what we might want to watch tonight, okay? Do you need anything? You may speak now."
"Water... maybe a snack..."
"Do you want to fetch that, or should I?"
Martyn leans to the side and nods at Ren.
"Alright, be back in a minute."
It really doesn't feel long before Ren's back, feeding Martyn with the blueberries they've picked off the bush, watering him. The TV gets turned on, the intro to a show playing, whistling. Ren whistles along with it, pets Martyn's hair with his other hand
And Martyn doesn't quite feel like peeling off again.
