Junimo Breakdancing

made a gdocs OC sheet for Obey Me, since most of the templates I've seen are for artists and the doc templates are just simple txt files. as usual, it's meant to be for ppl like me who love to add a LOT of text <3

It's here if you'd like to use it! Remember to make your own copy -> File -> Make a copy!

I NEED SOMEONE TO BE MY PLATONIC ROOMMATE TO HAVE AN INCREDIBLY DEEP CONNECTION WITH IN NO WAY ROMANTIC OR SEXUAL TO BE ABLE TO RELY ON BOTH THE HIGHEST HIGHS AND LOWEST LOWS, TO BE ABLE TO EXPERIENCE LIFE WITH ANOTHER PERSON, SHARE THOUGHTS AND OPINIONS, BE ABLE TO BOTHER AND CARE FOR SOMEONE, FULLY RELAX IN THE PRESENCE OF, HAVE AFFECTIONATE MOMENTS WITHOUT TENSION, RECIEVE COMFORT, GIVE ATTENTION, DO FUN AND WACKY ACTIVITIES, GET INTO STRANGE SCENARIOS, AND TO GET INTO A SOFT BANTER IN THE LATE EVENING AS WE TALK THROUGH OUR DAYS AND WHAT THE NEXT ONE MAY FORTALE AS WE SOFTLY LAUGH AND MELT WITHIN EACHOTHERS PRESENCE AND NOBODY EVEN FOR A SPLIT SECOND CONSIDERS US TO BE PARTNERS AND YET WE’RE CLOSER THAN ANY DUO THERE WERE TO EVER EXIST!

FUCK MORTY AND RICK OR GLAM AND CHES, I WANT WHAT SHERLOCK AND WATSON HAVE - A DEEP BOND WITHOUT NO MORE REASON RATHER THAN BEING JUST PERFECT FOR EACHOTHER, FIND PARTS OF YOURSELF IN THE OTHER WHILE THE THINGS YOU LIKE THE OTHER BRINGS TO THE CONVERSATION AND SITUATIONSHIP.

PLEASE REALISE THIS ISNT A NEED FOR A FOUND FAMILY NOR A LITTLE COWORKER WITHIN MY HOME BUT A PROPER EXTENSION OF THE HEART INTO ANOTHER HUMAN BEING!!!!

TO BE ABLE TO BE VULNERABLE, A BITCH, AN ABSOLUTE UNPREDICTABLE MESS, A TERRIBLE MAN, A HORRIBLE WOMAN, AN INSANE DOG, AN OVERLY GIDDY CHILD, AND MUCH MUCH MORE WITH THE OTHER SIMPLY UNDERSTANDING.

UNDERSTANDING IT ALL. THE WHYS AND HOWS AND WHAT TO DO. JUST.. BEING THERE, ALL CHILL, AND ABLE TO BE READY FOR ANY AND ALL SITUATIONS AS WE EMBARK ON DELIGHTFUL ADVENTURES!!

I’ve seen a lot of crude jokes going around about the CEO assassination, and I just want to say one thing.

I think we should do worse.

Live reenactments on site. Several scheduled a day, like the shows at Disney parks. Someone brings brownies to pass around for the 10:30am showing. Everyone chants “DENY, DEFEND, DEPOSE” as the shots are being fired. People clap at the end. Someone pops one of those party poppers filled with monopoly money. The real Adjuster is in the crowd. People leave the place with a huge smile on their faces. “Sorry I was late, Boss. I was watching The Adjustment.”

If I was in Hell I would be so curious what the hype with Cannibal Town is. Is it other sinners they’re eating, or did they somehow get human down there?

I bet Rosie has a “Cannibalism for Beginners” class with some basic meal prep, what meats are good and go with what, and maybe some history of the town and cannibalism. There’d also be a big array of stuff to try.

Alastor helps teach sometimes as someone with real world experiences and advice. He’s pretty popular for the newer cannibals who want to try something new, while the older ones would rather eat stuff raw.

I love women so much

kinktober - day 08 - cockwarming

ghost x gn!reader | 1k words cw: cockwarming (duh), blowjob/face-fucking, spit summary: simon asks so little of you. be still, be good. banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list

You’re drooling. He doesn’t seem to mind.

Perching atop Simon, you’re a living statue. Dedicated to restraint. Despite the thrum reverberating through your body, emanating from the deep seat of his cock, you remain still. Every scrap of willpower spent on not clenching around him mindlessly, not milking him dry, not granting a single, subtle movement.

You balance on the cusp of self-control, yours and his.

He asks so little of you. 

Don’t think about how good it feels. How right it feels. That would be selfish. He needs this.

Be still. Be good.

The mantra loops in your head with each breath. Your eyes flutter open, eyelashes kissing his skin where your head rests. Slumped against your boyfriend, his cock buried to the hilt inside you, you feel as though you could fall asleep. Akin to the whir of a tattoo gun or the drone of an engine, the pulse of his cock is rhythmic. Soothing.

Right where you belong.

This isn’t just about his relaxation, but your own. (You figured that out after the first time he asked you to do it.)

When Simon leaves, he knows he’s not the only one anxious over his safety and return. This—along with several rounds of near bed-breaking sex—is how the both of you calm down. Work it out of your systems.

The melting ice in his drink clinks as it shifts in the glass. You blearily stare, measuring time in amber. Oh. Huh. You must’ve dozed off already.

Simon shifts. Tiny shocks dance across your skin and burst like fireworks in your belly. A small test. He strokes the length of your thigh, then squeezes and pulls a cheek.

“Back in the land of the livin’?”

“Mm, yeah,” you murmur sleepily. “Can I wipe my mouth?”

He adjusts beneath you, driving a quiet moan out of you. He chuckles, and his knuckles sweep up your back. “If ya want. I’d like to read for a bit.”

Stars dance at the edge of your vision at the unspoken command. Invitation, really. You don’t wipe your mouth but blot his bare shoulder and chest with your shirt and let him kiss you once on the way down. The extra saliva does help with this particular stretch.

You taste yourself intermixed with him, musk and sweat. His bodywash, faintly, from a shower break some hours ago. Your lips stretch around his cock and seal around it, tongue snug beneath its weight and teeth tucked. He nudges further into your mouth and throat every ten seconds. He keeps count, but you do, too.

Thanks to the frequency of your sessions, it’s hardly a struggle once he’s comfortably resting in your mouth. Breathe in, breathe out.

Drool gradually gathers and drips from your mouth. Beads and puddles form on your naked thighs. You negotiate a posture, folding your arms to rest your head against a knee. Simon’s hand gently pats your head so as to not muss or disturb your hair, and then he settles in with a book.

With the sound of turning pages and the occasional sip, you drift back into that pleasant headspace. The world softens at its edges like slipping underwater or a warm blanket drying under the afternoon sun. Becomes a distant and vague thing, where Simon’s your anchor. A weightless haze where you don’t need to be anything other than this.

You’d kneel for hours if you could. In reality, it’s so much shorter than that. Your knees and his cock are impatient things, for very different reasons.

Simon gives you a five-second warning by dropping his book before his hands settle over the back of your skull. The time for relaxation is over.

With all the spit and your fairly lax muscles, it’s obscene how quick he goes. Hips rolling, retracting, and plunging back in with loud, squelching noises. You gag hard but swiftly force yourself to adapt, becoming pliant under his grip as he pushes your head to meet his cock. You blindly reach up, one hand resting on his thigh and the other pushing under his shirt to thread into his happy trail. He groans loud enough to wake the neighbors when you tug a little.

It’s a struggle to open your eyes, let alone roll them straight up. Your gazes meet over the landscape of his body, the pudge of his stomach, and rippling muscle. He’s gorgeous like this, taking what he needs from you at his leisure. Those blinking eyelashes that seem almost out of place on a man like him, shading the black coals of his eyes. Your chest tightens, knowing they burn for you.

He slows a bit to speak.

“I’m gonna come—can you take it?”

You demonstrate your ‘yes’, swallowing around his cock and sneaking a burning drag of air, then hook your fingers over the loosened waistband of his jeans. Hanging on for dear life as he resumes his pistoning into your mouth. It isn’t long until his hips stutter.

“That’s it, fuck, swallow—don’t waste a drop.”

Hot cum bursts into your mouth in thick ropes. The majority shoots down your throat, but what’s left, you taste. A salt and bitterness, a touch of sweetness. It splashes over your tongue, and you swallow, the act a whole negotiation with your mouth still stuffed.

Your throat works as he slows to a deep roll of his hips. He withdraws and grips the base of his cock, holding it still for you to lick clean. Red-pink and shiny, you kiss its head and let him help you up with a groan. You automatically stick out your tongue, which he pinches gently with a thumb and forefinger, inspecting like you’re hiding any.

“Did so well for me. Didn’t complain once. You alright, sweet’eart?” 

You hum, nuzzling into his other, completely drool-free shoulder, and nod. “Mhmm. Am requesting a break for my mouth, though.” 

He brushes his lips to your temple, and you feel him smirk. “S’pose I’ll allow it.”

Lifting some, you start to try and nudge him into lying down. You drag your legs off him and meet his amused eye. He complies after a minute of poking and prodding.

“What’re you doin’?”

You warm at the sight of him on his back, then stand to figure out the best approach.

“Your nose looks cold, Simon,” you remark softly. “Should I sit there, too?”

Got reminded again of my old coworker who was a massive misogynist but also trans inclusive. Told me he believed trans women are indeed women because "only women would be stupid enough to want to be women"

I wonder what he's doing now

I love the unhinged idea that if Mc is angry or dissapointed with the demons, that they would create a circle of salt around themselves and just stay in it

And no matter the immense combined powers that Diavolo, Barbatos, and the Brothers hold, they ain't getting past the salt circle no matter what they do

Salt is the most powerful thing in the Devildom, confirmed