#what is it with me and fruit seeds

[bugsoda]

[hemerasiae]

realizing in the shower that i am probably such a nightmare to write smut with because in-between the most descriptive filth this side of tumblr dot com, you have to endure the debilitating introspection of my characters reflecting how doing it doggy is a metaphor for their devastating fear of intimacy brought on by an insurmountable phobia of loss and dying alone or how their love for your character is a messy pomegranate running down their chin.

sorry to everyone ever; it will persist.

[primordialruin]

I don't think Lilith and Lucifer gave Eve the gift of knowledge/free will. Feels more like the gift of defiance. Knowing good and evil are experiences you either live through and/or give to someone else, which is a knowledge that is earned rather than learned about. You can be aware of the vilest things from just hearing about it, but if you don't have an inner experience that relates in the tiniest way to the pain within another in order to compare it to, then why would it have an impact on you? There's also the caveat where you will subconsciously eliminate relatability due to traumatic experiences which can block empathy, or in the case of those who are born with low levels of affective empathy, that can also pose a challenge. (Cognitive empathy can be learned tho) Caveats aside, if I don't know what negativity feels like, how am I expected to empathize? If I don't have a frame of reference for frustration, my response/reaction will be at best dulled and detached when I learn about an evil deed. Compassion can be built, but that's a social emotion meant to build and maintain networks. And frankly, compassion can easily exist without empathy. There is this thing called loving kindness in Buddhism that encompasses it.

When it comes to defiance, you are enabling yourself to commit an act against something, someone or yourself. It creates polarity and a ripple effect that I believe continues to echo on Earth through humans committing defiant acts all the time UNLESS there is a big enough counterforce to stop it. I believe it takes great inner strength to genuinely forgive something and move onto better pastures with or without the source that has created pain, though you have to be careful not to fall into apathy and numbness. Forgiveness isn't about dulling yourself to remove the pain. Forgiveness is finding worth in investing your energy into something that brings you a better life experience. It's a new type of emotional reality that you are developing in which the hurtful baggage of the past can't coexist anymore, so you let it go. Like, say a friend hurt you, but you find worth in rebuilding a friendship with them because they've done the work to prove themselves a reliable connection. Of course you can also forgive and move on without them. Both are good as long as the hurt was processed properly to be released. Now that's a mild example because atrocities are not on the same level as a broken friendship. The latter come and go and some return, while the former is extremely complex to move on from, but not impossible. Cases of it exist. They're probably unpopular, but they exist.

Now, defiance can also be a good thing depending on the context. Such as, defying a tyrant's system of oppression, but once again - that's still an act of evil because you cannot have good without it. Good cannot exist without polarity unfortunately. The good you do onto someone is evil to someone else and vice versa. That's where consideration and discernment comes into place. Consequences reach everyone one way or another... Black and white melts together, forming various shades of grey. Think of the spider metaphor - what is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.

But back to defiance. What is defiance if not a type of sabotage? You defy someone's right to safety by jeopardizing it to meet your needs. That's what evil is. It comes from unreliability which is what I feel has made the whole thing blow up with Lucifer's dangerous ideas that defy Heaven's reliable order, Lilith's defiance in the face of authority and her enabling Lucifer to be as dangerous as he wanted to be, and them enabling & inviting Eve to commit an act of defiance too. It's the dichotomy that was the evil that created Hell.

[anewp0tat0]

NOOOO DON'T GO OUT THERE literally when in these past 3 arcs or any other instance has it ever been okay to wander the halls at night

NOOOOOOO

[maretriarch]

brother started this morning by instigating a screaming match at me for my bowl of yogurt and frozen fruit being "processed garbage" and I have been straight FUMING about it all day and will probably continue to late into the night. forever.

[coffeeworldsasaki]

Healthy cereals sick so bad in milk

[bookwyrminspiration]

i am standing at the kitchen counter deseeding a pomegranate (my favorite fruit) and I am carefully going through every seed (because I forgot about it) (because it's started to turn) and they are dull red instead of vibrant and taut (it's started to turn). I discard almost half the pomegranate (my favorite fruit) seeds because they're mushy (I forgot about it). and I remember how every day I saw the pomegranate on the counter (I remember things when I see them) and thought that I should deseed it (because it would start to turn) and then I'd turn away and I'd forget (because I couldn't see it) (because I didn't want to remember that I was forgetting). and now all these seeds (mushy, dull red) are being discarded because I forgot (even though it's my favorite fruit). and I can remember (because I'm seeing it) (because I'm holding it) (because the juice is on my hands) that I forgot it day after day. and I wonder if my distress, the frustration will be enough (so I won't forget it next time). and I know it won't be (because I'm going to turn away when I'm done) (because I won't see it anymore) and that I am going to forget, again, to deseed the pomegranates (my favorite fruit). I will be here again (again). i discard another seed. i am standing at the kitchen counter deseeding a pomegranate

[dragonanon]

Finally cracked and ordered one of those little portable blenders with the intent of making smoothies for myself because I never eat any fruits or veggies, so my dumbass also doesn’t get much fiber if at all because I eat like a picky 5 year old. 🙃

[pitstain]

the downside of getting my life together is i feel like a pathetic worthless dog constantly begging for a treat

[nomaishuttle]

i cant eat apples in public btw bc i eat the entire thing like sometimes theres a tiny bit of core left but its like. smaller than my pinky but usually i also eat the core

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

An analysis of the straw hats’ devil fruits! I just think its cool how they’re all based around being human :) This is meant to be a part two of this analysis of this Mera Mera no mi I made a little bit ago.

Thanks so much to @badly-drawn-doflamingo for writing all this with me, they’re so much more eloquent than I am, thank you so much🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Closer pictures and transcription of the text in keep reading

Hana Hana no Mi Flowers bloom under certain conditions, be it weather, sun or care, and the same can be said for humans. What conditions did it take you to bloom, tears, time or the sun that laughs about you?

Hito Hito no Mi Do we get to choose when humanity blossoms within us, or do memory and choiceful guidance allow us the chance to walk, to run, to flourish as man.

Yomi Yomi no Mi: A chance at life through death, allowing that chance demise to be the seeding place for a continuing promise. Does the hoary earth need more than a body to revive the soul, or should sunlight come by its side?

Nika The heartbeat that carries your dreams beside it’s own humanity creates a hopeful beat. A drumming sensation that allows these two ideals to dance together, discordant like a ball of lightening, snapping and sparking in place. These conduits create the building desire of liberation, opening the heart’s windows to the sun above. What happens when the sun itself becomes filled with that very human need of liberation, when its flames begin to cast new light on our faces.. All you can do is laugh!

[oceantornadoo]

persephone (simon riley x f!reader) age gap, a bit coercive, dark

—

it started with fruit.

you were simon riley’s secretary, working for a man clouded in darkness and gold. you’d hear whispers on the street, see pitying faces when you mentioned who you worked for to strangers. to them, he was a cold, hard beast. to you, he was a king.

he started by bringing you fruit, pomegranate seeds and ghost-white pears. small quips about eating healthy now while you were still young enough. ms twenty something meets mr not-yet middle aged, the lines of his face just starting to crease but the beer belly nowhere to be found. he mined diamonds, you heard. he owned cemeteries, said another secretary. they call him ghost, whispered a personal assistant. you didn’t care, didn’t need to when that wasn’t your job.

he had scarred hands, craggly things winding into the cuff of his midnight black suits. didn’t wear a mask but always seemed to be covered in darkness, his face unrecognizable in half lit rooms and empty offices. he always stayed late so you did too, indulging in the extra car he ordered for you, his driver called charon. simon never held long conversations but simply beckoned you, some string in your belly pulling tight at his recognition. at least a third of his day spent with you, murmuring soft nothings, inquiring about your mother and the upcoming winter, the beauty in the death of the trees. “y’ smell like spring, love.” he’d said one morning, and you resolved to wear that same pomegranate spritz indefinitely.

and then it moved to jewels. congratulations on your one year preceded by a tennis bracelet. a trinket of a three headed dog, something small to keep on your desk. the hours draw on later and later, canceled plans with your mother and nymph-like friends piling up like leaves. his touch starts lingering, hard calluses on soft skin.

a hand on your back, guiding you into a conference room. your hair brushing against his torso, the intimacy of it jarring. you twisted your ankle one day, the height of your heels overindulgent. ended up on the couch in his private office, his hands massaging your foot. “like a delicate flower.” he’d murmured, rewarding you with an anklet of diamonds once the pain wore off.

three years in, an invite to his private island. no service, leave your phone at home. sign an nda, we’ll work remote, gone for a month maybe more. pack some nice clothes, maybe a white dress if you’ve got one. take my card if you don’t.

stepping off the helicopter, charon at the helm. you weren’t there against your will but the hairy arm around your waist was heavy, a reminder of the cost you’d paid to visit the underworld. two weeks in and you couldn’t even act surprised when he proposed, on one knee with a glint in his eyes. “you and me, love, against th’ world.”

and if you said yes to the fruit, the diamonds, the care, the attention - saying yes to this was just the next step. an elopement, he’d already drawn up the license - “why wait, dove? y’r so fragile already.” you’re not, have a hidden strength under you, but ghost doesn’t care, ghost takes what he wants, and you, legs spread and eyes soft, are it.

when he fucks you, that’s when it’s settled. cunt dripping on his fingers, his face, his cock. he mutters something about a vasectomy and you’re taking him bare, making eye contact with a ghostlike gardener who walks past the window. your jaw unhinged, drool at the corner of your mouth as he fucks you from behind, one hand on your throat.

“such a good secretary, hm?” and you nod ferociously like the three-headed puppy on your desk. you’ll never work again, too busy with his cock in your mouth or his remote vibrator in your cunt at dinner. the jewels drip into a roar - diamond encrusted toys you’re not sure are entirely safe, bejeweled handcuffs, glittery collars. he’s pluto, the riches of the earth following his orders when he chases you in his private woods. simon’s presence is otherworldly, taking you with the strength of a god as you squirm against his grip. his oldness disgusts you but makes you gush all the same. “gonna be good for daddy?” and you agree vehemently at the king before you, on his knees.

[genderqueerdykes]

had the consult for my gallbladder surgery. the doctor told me i need to "lose 10 - 15 pounds" before they'll perform the surgery on me, and that I would need to wait 2 - 3 months before they would schedule it. i told her i have PCOS which makes it difficult to lose weight. she told me that does happen, and offered to refer me to a bariatric surgeon who is used to bigger bodies who could perform the gallbladder removal instead. i asked her for the referral to them instead

i was very angry at her for this, as 10 - 15 pounds do not make any difference when you are 300 lbs. my weight fluctuates between 280 - 340 lbs depending greatly on what i've eaten, how much i exercise, and so on. this will also vary greatly depending on if the stone is blocking my gallbladder completely or partially- if it's fully blocking the neck of my gallbladder, i cannot get enough digestive juices into my stomach to properly digest my food, so i will begin violently vomiting to get the undigested food out, and to get bile flowing into my stomach again. i begin to lose tons of weight when this happens, and i put it back on during the periods where i can get enough bile in my stomach to properly digest my food.

i can't digest my food properly. eating "healthier" will not change this- i can't digest food at all, period. healthy or unhealthy, i can't digest anything, because a good half of my digestive juices are completely missing from my guts. there is a functional issue with the way my guts work, of course i will lose weight drastically and put it back on at times. of course the issues will be episodic.

both her and the student that was working with me kept assuming that i said that my pain got worse after "high fat" meals. both of them put this in my mouth-

the student did it first. she asked when the pain gets worse and i said sporadically, but sometimes after i eat. she literally asked me "so you said it gets worse after fatty meals, right?"

i got frustrated and said "no, it's really random." i didn't get to tell her that raw leafy vegetables and lightly steamed or cooked vegetables make me vomit. broccoli and cauliflower that aren't heavily cooked, salads, raw vegetables, lightly cooked carrots, applesauce and apples in general are all problem foods.

the doctor then came in and said "it gets worse after high fat meals, right? you said that" and i went, again, "no it just kinda happens."

i don't even eat a high fat diet. i cook at home now for every meal now that i have all the tools i need to do so. i make rice, fish, pasta, and certain vegetables that i can digest like potatoes, sweet potatoes, onions, mushrooms, and so on. i eat bread, seeds, nuts, dried fruits, and drink oatmilk. i don't eat land meats, eggs, or dairy. i don't have any of those things. i do eat french fries and fish sticks, but not for every single meal. i don't eat chips because they're too salty and irritate my stomach. i don't eat candy or sweets unless the food bank delivers them to me. i don't eat much sugar other than pancakes and certain fruits

she wouldn't listen to me and went "well when you eat fatty meals, your gallbladder has to contract more and it can cause you a lot of pain." you would not believe how many times she came back to "you need to eat a lower fat diet." "the pain gets worse after you eat a high fat meal, so eat lower fat meals and your pain will go down." "just eat a lower fat diet and it'll help."

i just kind of sighed. there were tears in my eyes. i felt defeated. they made a bunch of assumptions just because i was sitting there, being fat. i was wearing long sleeves due to it being cold and they didn't get to see that i have a lot of muscle in my body mass. quite a lot. i wanted to tell them that i'm on testosterone and physically active when and where possible, and that i frequently lift heavy objects and move, but i never got a chance. i wanted to tell them my BMI isn't what they think it is, but i just didn't bother to try

i despise that people assume that fat people are fat because they eat "unhealthy" foods. i ate high fat foods for a few months while i was homeless because i didn't have the resources to cook every single meal. it affected my liver, i'm dealing with some fatty liver. but my gallbladder has more important issues in the form of the literal stone inside. she would not stop pushing for me to eat lower fat meals. all because i was sitting there, existing, as a fat person. i wish i would've told her i can only eat fish and plant matter

i don't understand how a patient telling you they're vomiting and can't keep down certain foods does not sound like a more pressing issue than an arbitrary number. weight as a number means nothing, it tells you nothing about that person's actual body composition. i have trauma with vomiting and yet i'm going to have to keep doing it anyway despite the fact that it could kill me via dehydration or if i just. can't stop

either way i'm very unhappy with result as i already waited for a month for this consult. now i have to wait for a referral for another surgeon to go through, and to do the consult with them, too. all while being in pain and having GI issues the entire time. just because a surgeon doesn't want to take the time to learn how to operate on fat bodies. i'm tired. what a joke

[ozzgin]

IM SORRY, but I need a whole smut fanfic with yandere ASMRtist where he just straight up fucks reader and posts it, and people like it

Even better if it was an accident! Although let me add a little disclaimer that this concept turned more BDSM-oriented than I initially planned, but it has no correlation whatsoever to ASMR. Just wanted to point it out because the community already struggles with the sexualization of content. The guy just happens to be kinky. Content: gender neutral reader, male yandere, NSFW, BDSM themes (bondage, spanking, collaring, name-calling)

He’s doing his usual sound recording, yet today it a little different. You're particularly cheeky, kneeling before him, back arched and bottom up. The pillow is soaked with your drool, lips forcefully parted by a bit gag. You're a mess.

Today, he's particularly aroused by your hooded eyes and damp skin. No harm in taking a break from his work, is there? His hand lands another rough spank, followed by his fingers tracing across your privacy. It seems he isn't the only one terribly pent up.

He gives you a little encouraging jolt before clarifying with a spoken order: "Spread."

You obediently follow his instructions, eager to be touched by more than his hand. He grins at your visible excitement.

"My, what a greedy whore you're being today. You're still red and swollen from the spanking, are you sure you want me to do even more damage?"

He presses himself into you as if to prove his point, though the feeling of his throbbing erection really only makes matters worse. You nod desperately and groan.

Once he's done pounding the life out of you, he stands up nonchalantly and dusts off his hands, gazing at his masterpiece: you're sprawled onto the mattress, heaving, dripping with his seed. Another fruitful day of pleasing his Darling.

He quickly finishes the last retouches of the recorded ASMR session and uploads it to his channel, distracted by the thought of a potential second round.

"Don't get up", he demands from his chair. "I'm not done with you yet." Judging by your expression, however, it's not likely you had any other intention to begin with.

Later in the evening, he idly checks his phone, somewhat surprised by the sudden influx of views and comments.

"Wow, this is probably your longest video so far. You're spoiling us", someone writes.

"What's the stuff at the end? Sounds bizarrely wet, yet tingly", someone else wonders.

His smile abruptly pales as it dawns of him: he never stopped recording. In a moment of anger, he throws his phone into the nearest wall, and you stumble over, startled by the commotion.

Damn it! That was his special moment. He feels like he'd just fucked you before the masses. His precious time - meant to be savored - has been tainted by the ears of plebeians.

He marches towards the bedroom, pulling you after him by the little house collar you must wear inside. No matter, he tells himself frantically, he'll just have to redo it. He'll fuck you even better this time, and it'll be for him only.

[Yandere!ASMRtist Concept] | [More yandere works]

[artistic-arteries]

A thought experiment that jumped into my head this morning:

If we were to plant a concept fruit tree, a concept like love or society condensed into a tree, what would the fruit be and what would the seed be?

If we planted a seed made of pure love the fruit may be kindness or forgiveness.

A society tree bears success fruit but what is it's seed? Some people think that the seed is democracy and some capitalism and some cooperation and I think that the answer you give reflects the flavor that success comes in.

[cosycafune]

SINFUL DEVOTION

0.9k words. you're a deity, something sylus can't have. yet, here the two of you are -- recklessly fucking each other. an impossible power dynamic crackles between you two, but the forbidden sexual deeds make sylus' devotion tragically sweeter. he's the closest he can ever be, but it's almost not enough. you're to be rightfully worshipped, not coddled. 1/??? masterlist.

acts: unprotected sex, mating press, breeding kink, degration, rough sex, praising, creampies, devotion, forbidden love, begging, worshipping, hickeys and more.

a/n: this is supposed to be short bc it's a prologue. I'm actually so obsessed with him, that it hurts.

A deity, the embodiment of the unfathomable, that’s what you are. However, that status is disregarded now – tainted by a devoted Sylus. The strings of fate, intimacy and your sinful hearts swell and suffocate you two. Even though you both carry the gift of destruction, pain, control and leadership, this moment opposed everything you both stood for.

Nonetheless, you and Sylus carry a sexual franticness, insatiable lust and an unestablished base for you both. Desperation, humiliation and longing clings to the two of you. This intimate moment, where you’re folded into a degrading mating press, begging Sylus to pound you harder, dissolved your unreachable status.

Men like Sylus were ones you avoided, but he had sweetened and buttered you enough for you to have him so deeply within your guts – filling you up with his fruitful seed. Over and over and over again, you allowed yourself to be subjected to Sylus’ sexual reign – crying out his name. Worship seeped from your lips consistently, fuelling Sylus’ high ego drastically. 

Even though you sang his name, sex-drunk, he always devoted himself to you – whenever you were both sexually sober.

Currently, your lewd cries are captured by his ears as he glances down at you – grinning mercilessly while he pounds into you. Sylus held no sexual mercy for you, pouring his feelings, his heart, his thoughts and his genuine nature into each thrust. Deep down, you knew this forbidden form of art was his way of self-expression – due to you attempting to resist him. Through your swollen cunt, your cries of pleasure, your troubled breaths and orgasms, you let Sylus almost express his thoughts.

“Sy’, more!” Weeping, painfully overstimulated, you beg for more – overwhelmed by his harshly snapping hips.

���Aren’t… you greedy?” Hazily questioning you, lust-coated, Sylus lazily grins at the power imbalance between you two – relishing your celestial features scrunching.

“P-Please…breed me,” Humiliating yourself, begging Sylus, you gift him desperate, teary eyes – your eyes rolling back at his thick cock kissing your cervix.

“I’ll..destroy myself…just for you, “ Sylus declares through a deep thrust, feeling you tighten around him – fuelling the forbidden fruits that adorn you both.

“Ngh! ‘Gonna cum! ‘Too much!” A trembling mess, you lewdly bellow – vigorously shaking as Sylus sets an inhumane pace. 

Content, he burrows his deepest within you – unwilling to free you from his intoxicating physique. A physique that swells your every thought with his gigantic dick, his crimson eyes, his ivory hair and the yearning that marks him. The end of your world is seconds from drawing near, but Sylus’ presence smearing you is all you could think about – choppily breathing.

“Handle…it!” Gruffing commanding you, moaning, Sylus batters you with his pace – satisfied at you attempting to push some of his ample cock out of you.

“Can’t…hold,” Mentally blanking, your body strangled with warmth, a moan tears out of your throat – leading to you intensely finishing.

Right now, the only thing that mattered to you was Sylus, his cock and the longevity of his pounding. 

“S-Same,” Pricelessly trying to hold out for you, Sylus lowly responds to you – slamming his cock so deeply within you. 

Mellowly, his large balls would pulverise your bubble butt – drawing more attention to your soppy cunt, your mewling and his whimpering and grunting. Yet, this notion encouraged Sylus more – throwing almost everything he had on the line for the addictive taste of you. Sure, the two of you are fucking in one of his bases – surrounded by many dangerous clients that want you. However, he can’t bring himself to care right now – cock-bounding you so deeply. 

Sylus divulged as if you were to crumble beneath him, leaving him with fleeting winds.

Yelping, you jolt at Sylus’ cock hardening into you. Sylus is an absolute mess, panting whilst his furrowed brows knit closer. Longing for more, he drives his cock impossibly in you – watching you mischievously. Not once did he break eye contact, continuing his mean mating press – enjoying the warmth of your fluttering cunt. An hour had skimmed by, but you both refused to care.

“D-Don’t…want to lose you,” Wavering, Sylus mutters – thrusting deeply before he finishes within you. 

Devoted to you, Sylus can't help but grow lonesome – noticing the pitiful truth that lingers: you’re mentally unable to be his. Even as he plugs you with his baby batter, you’re still something greater than he ever is – surpassing him indefinitely.

Someone who’s destined to reconstruct and rule the world. However, Sylus wanted to hold more than sinful devotion.

Love. He wanted you to admit your heart, but you hid behind your painful status.

Collapsing mentally against you, Sylus swiftly pulls out of you – smitten at the sight of your swollen cunt plump and spilling with his thick seed. Naturally, this was your most vulnerable state – but you allowed Sylus to admire it. After all, the two of you have only this moment to express yourselves – before the chaotic night comes to an end.

“Sylus, we…can’t be here for long?” Regally speaking, slightly exhausted, you feel Sylus crumble into your arms – longing to be held.

“‘Can’t we…stay like this a little longer?” Desperate to be held and cared for by you, Sylus slyly begs you – his whiny question swaying you.

“Just a bit, but the deal at the masquerade ball isn’t going to make itself,” You speak, running your fingers through Sylus’ ivory locks – wanting to coddle him all night.

Knowing this is forbidden, you conceal your care behind your exhaustion – desperate to confess to Sylus. However, you’re unable to confess your heart – aware it’ll lead to your status as a powerful deity being your demise.

“If you insist, sweetie,” Vulnerable, a sinner within your arms, Sylus snuggles into your breasts – airily speaking.

Sinful devotion, but at what cost?

__

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