Tumgik
#Meat Shortage
if-you-fan-a-fire · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
“Horsemeat Is Not Likely To Appear on Windsor Market,” Windsor Star. November 19, 1942. Page 5. ---- No danger of Windsor stores being forced to emulate those in Los Angeles in the selling of horsemeat for human consumption exists at present, meat distributors told The Star today. 
All local wholesalers report, that they have good supplies of beef, the recent shortage having come to an end. 
Some dealers have lamb and veal as well, and mast of them have pork, although one dealer reports having none. 
One company branch, with headquarters in London, has been forced to close its Windsor branch, because of the shortage of pork, in which it dealt primarily. The branch closed about two months ago, and no arrangements for re-opening it will be made until after the war. 
Appalled at the thought of selling horsemeat. a spokesman for one of the companies said. "Oh. gosh. no!" when asked if they were selling any or proposed to sell any. "We hope it never comes to that. We have plenty of all kinds of good meat now." 
Most of the bacon supplies are being shipped overseas, with the result that local supplies are very small. 
One company, which receives all supplies from a western packing plant, reported that it was not allowed to deal in horsemeat, as government regulation prevents the slaughtering of horses in the same plant as other animals.
0 notes
Photo
Tumblr media
#Ranchers in the Southwest are selling their #livestock at an unprecedented rate. The drought could lead to a #meat shortage soon. Stock up now! https://www.rethinkingthedollar.com/stock-up-now/
0 notes
misforgotten2 · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
She went from Mommy Issues to Mommy Tissues.
Parents Magazine December 1944
22 notes · View notes
macbeth-s · 1 year
Text
rosalie craig [miss wilson] saw a group of europeans and decided “bangers and mash” was the best representation of british culture and for that alone i have no choice but to stan 
Tumblr media Tumblr media
76 notes · View notes
sapphixxx · 2 years
Text
a couple years ago I was dismayed to realize that I had a piss poor competency at recognizing and understanding metaphor, and started working on trying to improve that. Jump to the present where now I am sitting in white knuckled furious frustration because now I am picking up on metaphor pretty well but have only become more aware that almost nobody else is, no matter how blunt they are.
28 notes · View notes
thehobbutts · 1 year
Text
im off my Adderall til the pharmacy fills it tomorrow, hope that explains the absolute unhinged speed at which I am posting today
9 notes · View notes
karinyosa · 9 days
Text
btw a bottle of hot sauce that said real guyana hot pepper just showed up on our doorstep addressed to us, neither of us w any memory of ordering it or the brand name. it's really good
1 note · View note
kcrossvine-art · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
G'morning all! Its nice to get back things,. Theres been some roadblocks with med shortages and life, and also with the material for these recipes. So far we've covered a lot of pastries, not because theyre mentioned more often in the series, but because being mentioned lends them more specificity in flavor than things like gravy, peas, or various meats. The latter can be prepped, seasoned, and served in so many different ways that it feels harder to make them 'faithfully' because a packet of instant potato mash is just as faithful as a pot of buttered potato mash. Baked goods tend towards 1, maybe 2, 'base' recipes that get altered and added to. 
 Today, we'll be making Beorn's Honey Cakes! A dish from one of my partners favorite characters- a delectable little treat befitting the… warm personality of the character.
(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)
MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS
SO, “what goes in to Beorn's Honey Cakes?” YOU MIGHT ASKSimple stuff! Simple sweet stuff!
All-purpose flour
Baking powder
Salt
Ground nutmeg
Unsalted butter
Whole milk
2 eggs
Honey
Vanilla extract
The veins of honey cakes ancestry can be traced back to any moment where people began baking bread. Honey is a natural preservative, and sweeter still on its lonesome.
AND, “what does Beorn's Honey Cakes taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKLike your aching muscles repairing themselves
Tastes like a honey graham cracker
But the texture is softer, wetter- somewhat like banana bread
Oh, and this will make your house smell So So Good
If you can resist the temptation of eating them immediately, they taste even richer the day after baking
Would pair well with milk green tea
Would also pair well with fresh orange slices (or those chocolate 'orange slices' candy)
Genuinely don't forget to flip them upside down when they go to bake the second time, not sure what it is but i was curious and did a test where i flipped half of the batch upside down and kept the other half of the batch right-side up like they cooked in the muffin tin. The ones i flipped upside down universally had a more consistent texture and the honey was able to permeate further.
.where honey called for, used clover honey
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From start to finish this recipe takes about an hour of work, give or take some negligible time for prep.
The batter is perhaps the babybird of all cake batters. The gloopy, protruding crumbs of butter, not unlike a squabs beady pupils visibly dark under its skin, break up the mass of sickly smooth and reassuringly sweet-smelling oak-colored liquid. You can feel the confusion of bees outside your home, wondering if this your attempt at making royal jelly.
Just like a babybird, it becomes more than the sum of its parts. Layer on that honey drizzle, layer it on thick, theres no risk of drowning subtle flavors. Its crisp edges will keep its form, springy and warm, inviting you as if you're not the one who crafted it (food you didn't cook always tastes better). The bees are sooooooooooooooo jealous of your opposable thumbs and muscular strength.
If you dont have eggs you could try substituting with apple mash. I can't vouch for it in this recipe but replacing eggs with mashed up apples for pancakes gives it adds a nice fruity flavor without changing the texture, and in theory should work here as well.
I give this recipe a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) 
🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁
Ingredients:
270 grams all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp freshly ground nutmeg
1 stick unsalted butter
160 grams milk
2 eggs
110 grams your favorite honey
1 tsp vanilla extract
Muffin tray and parchment paper
Method:
Preheat oven to 350f
In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, and nutmeg.
 Add the butter and rub it into the flour with your fingers until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. 
In a small bowl beat the eggs until just combined. Pour in milk and then vanilla extract while stirring.  Keep stirring vigorously while slowly pouring in honey.
Stir until the mixture is consistent in color.
Pour the liquids over the dry mixture and stir until just combined.
Pour the batter into a greased muffin tray, don't use any muffin paper/lining/cups.
Bake for 16 minutes, or until they reach their full height.
Carefully remove from the muffin pan and place the muffins upside down on a parchment lined tray.
Using a silicone pastry brush, generously cover the tops of the cakes with honey. Allow to sit for about 5 minutes to let the honey soak into the cakes.
Bake for an additional 8-10 minutes, or until the cakes are golden brown.
Remove from the oven and allow to cool.
2K notes · View notes
museumofferedophelia · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
This is actually hilarious because:
Wasps are not bees. They are both members of the Hymenoptera order, which also includes ants. You wouldn't say that an ant is a bee just because they're both members of the same order, so why would you argue that a wasp is a bee? Would you argue that a camel and a giraffe are the same species because they also share the same order (Artiodactyla)?
Out of the some 20,000 species of wasp, NONE produce honey. There is a genus called "Brachygasta" including 17 species that keep stores of nectar and honeydew in case of food shortages, but none produce honey. And certainly not from meat.
So yet again, you have a TRA blatantly lying in order to turn something into what it's not. "The wasp is right, and the bee relies on untrue myths to explain itself," is such bullshit.
Sadly, this post got something like 2,000 notes. People will blindly believe what a TRA says, especially if it's a lie constructed to undo a radfem point. So many logical fallacies.
Wasps are not bees. Men are not women.
1K notes · View notes
fem-lit · 24 days
Text
In the current epidemic of rich Western women who cannot “choose” to eat, we see the continuation of an older, poorer tradition of women’s relation to food. Modern Western female dieting descends from a long history. Women have always had to eat differently from men: less and worse. In Hellenistic Rome, reports classicist Sarah B. Pomeroy, boys were rationed sixteen measures of meal to twelve measures allotted to girls. In medieval France, according to historian John Boswell, women received two thirds of the grain allocated to men. Throughout history, when there is only so much to eat, women get little, or none: A common explanation among anthropologists for female infanticide is that food shortage provokes it. According to UN publications, where hunger goes, women meet it first: In Bangladesh and Botswana, female infants die more frequently than male, and girls are more often malnourished, because they are given smaller portions. In Turkey, India, Pakistan, North Africa, and the Middle East, men get the lion’s share of what food there is, regardless of women’s caloric needs. “It is not the caloric value of work which is represented in the patterns of food consumption” of men in relation to women in North Africa, “nor is it a question of physiological needs…. Rather these patterns tend to guarantee priority rights to the ‘important’ members of society, that is, adult men.” In Morocco, if women are guests, “they will swear they have eaten already” or that they are not hungry. “Small girls soon learn to offer their share to visitors, to refuse meat and deny hunger.” A North African woman described by anthropologist Vanessa Mahler assured her fellow diners that “she preferred bones to meat.” Men, however, Mahler reports, “are supposed to be exempt from facing scarcity which is shared out among women and children.”
“Third World countries provide examples of undernourished female and well-nourished male children, where what food there is goes to the boys of the family,” a UN report testifies. Two thirds of women in Asia, half of all women in Africa, and a sixth of Latin American women are anemic—through lack of food. Fifty percent more Nepali women than men go blind from lack of food. Cross-culturally, men receive hot meals, more protein, and the first helpings of a dish, while women eat the cooling leftovers, often having to use deceit and cunning to get enough to eat. “Moreover, what food they do receive is consistently less nutritious.”
This pattern is not restricted to the Third World: Most Western women alive today can recall versions of it at their mothers’ or grandmothers’ table: British miners’ wives eating the grease-soaked bread left over after their husbands had eaten the meat; Italian and Jewish wives taking the part of the bird no one else would want.
These patterns of behavior are standard in the affluent West today, perpetuated by the culture of female caloric self-deprivation. A generation ago, the justification for this traditional apportioning shifted: Women still went without, ate leftovers, hoarded food, used deceit to get it—but blamed themselves. Our mothers still exiled themselves from the family circle that was eating cake with silver cutlery off Wedgwood china, and we would come upon them in the kitchen, furtively devouring the remains. The traditional pattern was cloaked in modern shame, but otherwise changed little. Weight control became its rationale once natural inferiority went out of fashion.
— Naomi Wolf (1990) The Beauty Myth
573 notes · View notes
if-you-fan-a-fire · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
"Packers' Help Problem Solved," Winnipeg Tribune. October 28, 1943. Page 13. ---- PACKING plants in the province which 10 days ago required between 700 and 800 new workers today had all their requirements filled excepting for a few experienced butchers which they would employ if they could get them. Within the next week the Farm Help Service said these probably would be available.
With their labor quotas supplied the plants were now in a position to avoid a pile-up in stock shipments at their yards such as occurred 10 days ago. Many of their new workers have to be trained for a short time to reach. the required standard of efficiency.
Most of the new help came from farms in Manitoba and Saskatchewan, a direct result of the intensive canvass by the Farm Help Service during the last three weeks. About 200 came from Saskatchewan.
Help is still being solicited for other essential industries, such as lumber camps, pulpwood mills, fuel wood camps and the base metal mines. Volunteers are still coming in and allocated to where they are most needed by the selective service board.
The full time requirements for these industries, it was stated to- day, may not be filled because there are not enough men. Selective service officials today said there were hopes they could come reasonably near it but in the meantime the only course was to place the workers where it was considered their services were most needed.
0 notes
Text
Why has going out to eat lately, become a disappointing experience?
0 notes
rinhaler · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
NOTSCAREDNOTSCAREDNOTSCARED!
✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ frat boy!oliver aiku x f!reader
Genre: college!au (mostly shameless smut tbh) Notes: first fic on my new blog and it's absolutely disgusting, enjoy. Warnings: 18+, noncon, somnophilia, drugging, virgin killer!oliver, implied virgin reader, tit sucking, pussy eating, biting, fingering, marking, love bites ♡, creampie, spit, alcohol consumption, lmk if I missed any!! Words: 5.3k
Tumblr media
What a naïve little thing you are.
That’s the first thing Oliver thinks when he sets his sights on you. A shy, sweet girl wearing the one and only cocktail dress you probably own. It’s so simple but makes a loud statement. You don’t look like the other girls here. You aren’t wearing designer clothes that fit you like a glove, no. The ill-fitting garment you’ve chosen to wear speaks volumes to your innocent nature and your lack of confidence. You don’t have friends, do you? You’re here, alone, in the sleaziest and most prolific fraternity on campus. Of course, it’s a party, and anyone is welcome to attend. But the fact that you decided to come here, alone, makes him think you might be a little stupid.
But that suits him just fine.
He doesn’t approach immediately, for fear of giving the game away too soon. He bides his time and observes your behaviours and mannerisms as you wade through the crowds. His eyes have followed your longing gaze a few times and noticed how you keep looking towards the kitchen. It’s the busiest room in the house right now, he assumes. That’s where the keg and all of the alcohol is.
But almost as soon as you look that way, you avert your eyes and look elsewhere in search of a place to belong. You’ve tried starting a few conversations with the girls, but Oliver knows how catty and mean they can be. Poor thing, fresh meat like you doesn’t stand a chance.
You’re lonely, aren’t you? You’ll feel better with a little company, yeah?
He carefully walks by you in a way that will cause you to spill the drink from your grasp. And with that, this sinful game can begin. The one in which he tells you how sorry he is for causing an accident and ruining your dress. He’s so apologetic that you just can’t help but forgive him right away. And his attractiveness doesn’t go amiss. The kindest person you’ve met thus far just so happens to be so deliciously handsome.
“Let me get you a refill, it’s only fair.” he winks. And you hate yourself because your stomach flits at the casual gesture. It’s probably a line that he uses on all of the girls he meets at parties like this. It’s plain to see that he’s confident. You’re sure there won’t be a shortage of girls throwing themselves at him after a gesture like that.
But you aren’t stupid enough to be the same.
He seems older, by at least two years. He seems comfortable enough here to get you a drink so maybe this is his party. He could have a girlfriend for all you know that is in another room and completely oblivious. You don’t want to make waves before you even experience your first day of class.
People seem friendlier towards you when they notice you with him. Is it genuine? Or could they be laughing at you? His hand resides in the small of your back as he guides you far into the kitchen; until you’re standing between an island counter and the fridge. Your body is warming, and, fuck, he can feel it. You’re so shy. He hasn’t seen a girl like you in a long time. The slightest bit of attention and touching and you’re putty in his hand. What a good girl you are, he’s going to have so much fun with you.
You watch him, carefully, as he rummages through the fridge and grabs a can of beer.
You’re a little deflated as he cracks it for himself and begins to chug.
“I didn’t catch your name.” he states as his unmistakable eyes watch you intently. He has eyes you’ve never seen before, and you’ll have a hard time forgetting. Mismatched purple and green. They’re dull, but not uninteresting by any means. They’re the eyes of a man who always gets what he wants. Those eyes beautiful eyes… they’re bored because they are a prestigious, all access key to gain whatever his heart desires. You hum, hesitating for a moment until you decide you’re too awkward and uncomfortable to hide your name from him. “Oh, that’s a real pretty name. I’m Oliver.” he introduces himself.
“Hey… Oliver.” you smile, unsure of how to respond. You’re so on edge. His peculiar eyes are examining each and every movement you make like you’re being graded. And your heart is pounding… you can’t help yourself. Nobody here has extended so much as a pitying smile. You want to pass his test, he’s the only person being remotely nice to you. But still, there’s a gnawing feeling eating away and corroding your insides and it makes you feel like a criminal, like you’re doing something wrong.
Like you absolutely should not be talking to him right now.
“You’re pretty too.” he smiles, brazenly. His voice is so deep and charming, a sonorous lull as he knows all he needs to do is utter these three simple words to get a girl like you to be completely and utterly captivated. It’s such a pathetic, insipid sentence and you can’t stand that it’s working on you.
You get a full view of his wide, toothy grin and you sense that he’s trying to extend a gesture of trust to you. And you’re encapsulated by it. Pristine pearls almost blinding you and short circuiting your brain as you arrive at the realisation that he might be perfect. His features nothing short of perfection and accentuate his beguiling persona that you can’t get enough of. You haven’t even noticed the way your chest is heaving as you devour a mind-altering cocktail with him as the main ingredient.
And he can’t help but chuckle when he notices how flustered you’ve become from his words, you adorable thing. Three little words are making you squeeze your thighs together and fold your arms over your chest. And don’t think he hasn’t noticed the quickened breaths you’re taking and the dampening forehead you’re suddenly trying to wipe away. He’s noticing everything about you and making mental notes in his mind he will use later.
Do you know how vulnerable you’re being?
You should know better than to be so visibly rattled by him. He may be handsome but he’s hardly screaming upstanding citizen at you. It’s the facial hair. It’s so grotesque and sleazy and wholly unpleasant. And still, the only thought swirling around your tiny, tipsy mind is how it would feel against your skin as you kiss. How would the scruff feel between your inner thighs as he devoured your petalled flesh. You shouldn’t be thinking like this, you aren’t sure what’s wrong with you.
You don’t know how to act, do you?
“Don’t be so nervous, sweetheart.” he tells you, getting closer. The smell of his cologne invading your senses. It’s familiar, it smells expensive and suits him just fine. The type of fragrance you’d save for a special occasion to make an impact and impress people you’re around. Your nostrils flare as you inhale more. More of it. More of him. You need more.
He angles his head as he monitors your response to his proximity. He grins when he notes that you aren’t sure where to put your hands. Moving them a few times before you decide to grip the overhang of the counter behind you until the skin covering your knuckles are taut, turning white. You want to feel his chest, don’t you? It’s so broad and muscular and peaking under his shirt, he doesn’t blame you. You probably haven’t had much experience with a guy like him.
He's more than happy to show you.
You’re starting to think your heart is packing up its belongings and preparing to flee from your own chest as you feel it beating rapidly against your ribs. He’s so intoxicating, you feel lightheaded and overwhelmed by the mere presence of him. His body is trapping yours against the counter. He’s so damn tall, taller than you could have possibly imagined now that he’s pressed against you like this. Your cheeks fill with heat, and you think you might actually faint against him if he doesn’t move away. “There are bad guys at places like this, y’know? Dangerous place to be so pretty.” he warns you, whispering gently in your ear. The tone rushing through your veins and forcing you to shiver. His eyes meet yours after he speaks, his stare willing you to understand what he’s saying.
“T-Thank you…” you mumble.
“Hey, don’t worry so much. I’m the house president, I’ll keep an eye on you.” he assures you, moving away ever so slightly while keeping a lingering hand on your shoulder. A commanding touch to make your body and your mind focus on him. His hand is cold to the touch and you realise it’s from holding the metal can, cold from the refrigerator. The cooling caress of his fingers is polar opposite to the warm smile he’s offering you. You aren’t sure what to do or say, but you need not worry about yourself anymore. He had intended on doing all of your thinking for you tonight, anyway. “Oh, shit, you wanted a drink, right? Let me get one for you.” he speaks, his body moving to act before you can even answer.
“U-Um…” you hesitate, seeing him grab a bottle of rum and a mixer. You hate spirits because they always get you embarrassingly wasted. There are four prominent occasions in the forefront of your mind as you reminisce on the states you’ve found yourself in after drinking spirits. The smell alone is enough to make you gag, but you do all you can to ignore it. You don’t want to make a fool of yourself, you don’t want to do something humiliating that will be talked about for years to come.
You aren’t a prude; you aren’t opposed to getting drunk. You just don’t think it’s a good way to introduce yourself.
He’s moving so fast, and his back is to you as he pours your drink, the red solo cup obscured from your vision as he fills it to the brim for you.
You dumb little thing.
Isn’t this something you’ve been warned about? Not letting your drinks out of your sight at any point, ever. Of course you have, it’s rule number one of going to parties or nightclubs or anywhere that your drink can be tampered with.
You just aren’t thinking straight.
And why would you?
You’re so out of place in this big, intimidating environment. You’re hardly going to suspect the first person to show you a bit of kindness is actually the shadiest guy at the party. But deep down, you know you should consider everyone a suspect after hearing what he had to say. If the guys here are so shady, why does he stick with them? If he’s the president, why doesn’t he tell them to do better?
These few fleeting thoughts have been nothing but. Passing ideas that you thought of and discarded as quickly as they arrived. You can’t live your life in fear or you’ll never make any friends here. And he’s going to all of this trouble for you. You’re nobody to him, and he’s still finding it in his heart to extend a benevolent demeanour to you and making sure you have a drink and a friendly face to keep you company for the night.
So you aren’t going to think twice that he’s slipped something in your drink, you can’t see what he’s doing, but for some reason, you trust him. Would you trust him, still, if he wasn’t so good looking? Would you trust him less if he hadn’t announced he is the fraternity president? He knows you’d never have trusted receiving a drink from him if he just offered it to you out of nowhere.
He’s happy he didn’t have to work too hard, you aren’t completely stupid, but you’re still dumb enough to accept a drink from him like this. You barely even think about it as he flashes you a beaming smile and hands it to you. Hell, it might even loosen you up. You knock half of it back in three seconds and you giggle after the fact.
He’s laughing too.
But it’s at your expense, you poor, sweet thing. You’re going to be seeing so many stars tonight, a sight reserved for Oliver’s favourite angels.
“You’re crazy, huh? You like to party a lot, baby?” he wonders, taking another swig of his drink as he rests against the fridge beside him.
“No, never! This is my first big party.” you confess, and he doesn’t miss the way you slightly cringe at yourself for saying something you must think is a little embarrassing. “I mean, I’ve been to parties… this one is just—”
“You’ll get used to it.” he tells you. “The first one is always memorable, though.”
“Really? How come?” you ask, curiously.
God you’re so cute, it’s killing him. Even he can’t hide the smirk forming on his face as he tries to conceal it with his beer. He decides to not answer. Instead, he admires the way you look disappointed at the prospect of him losing interest in you. He thinks he could bathe in the watery sheen glossing over your eyes as you worry that you’ve said something so stupid that he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.
He's such a disgustingly vile man. All he can think to do is refuse to put you out of your misery. Instead, he revels in the way you knock back the rest of your drink. The way your eyes widen paints a perfect picture in telling him it was too strong for you. Stronger than anything you’ve ever drank in your life. And that’s without the added ingredient he decided to slip in.
“I— do you have a girlfriend?” your question is abrupt as you wipe the excess liquid from your plump lips. Your watery eyes watching him keenly as you do your best to decipher his intentions.
“No.”
You scoff and shake your head. “I don’t even know why I asked you that, as if you’d tell the truth.” you mumble to yourself, but it’s loud enough for him to hear. And just as you’re about to walk away, he responds.
“I don’t care if you know whether I have a girlfriend or not. I would only care if I was trying to fuck you.” the sentence rolls off his tongue with ease. Like he knew exactly what you were going to say before you even thought of it. And you feel a wave of humiliation crash throughout your body; you feel a current trying to drag you under and suffocate you under the foaming sea.
“Y-You aren’t?” you need to stop talking. You need to stop embarrassing yourself like this. For his benefit. For the other people in the kitchen with you. It feels like everyone is staring at you and laughing at your expense. Maybe you’re just drunk and being paranoid. You should go, you should sprint out of here with whatever small scraps of dignity you have left.
He shakes his head, his hand reaching out to yours to pull you closer to him. It trails, up your side and to your chin as your eyes fixate on his. His thumb smooths over your chin, encouraging you to open your mouth for him. He tilts his can of beer onto your lower lip. The golden, yeasty liquid spills from the metal container and onto your tongue. Your eyes don’t leave his as all you can do is stand there and take it. Your little throat expanding with each glug of the disgustingly bitter drink.
Your body is once again pressed against the counter. He snickers when he feels your body jolt against his as you hear the sound of the beer can he was holding clattering against the tiled floor. And he takes great delight in the way your body melts against his touch as he places a hand on your hip. The other, smoothing the shell of your ear before he levels his mouth with it.
“I don’t need to try, I’m going to fuck you.” he whispers, he kisses against your ear a few times and the sound rushes straight to your clit. You squeeze your thighs together again hoping to alleviate the brewing tension. You pray you were discreet enough for him to not notice.
You weren’t.
And it’s worse as he kisses your neck so openly in front of everyone. He sucks and sucks and sucks until his name is signed in blue and purple blooms against your skin. You bite your lip, internally cursing him for forcing you to have to wear a scarf for the coming weeks until it fades away.
“S-Stop it.” your legs buckle and there is something wrong with your eyes. The room won’t stop spinning. You didn’t drink that much, did you?
“Woah!” Oliver exclaims as you fall into his hold. “You don’t know how to handle your drink, hm? I think you need to sleep it off.”
“T-Tax—”
“No, no. I’d be a terrible host if I made you get a taxi all by yourself. C’mon.” he lifts you with ease, your entire body limp in his arms. And he just can’t believe how lucky he is. How blessed he is to be born so genetically gifted. Because he knows there is no way in hell he’d be getting away with this if he wasn’t attractive. Girls looking at him like he’s some kind of hero coming to your rescue. Him, a hero. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.
There’s no way you’re forgetting your first frat party.
He’ll make sure of that.
As he passes a few of his brothers on the stairs, they all share a knowing look. Like this isn’t the first time Oliver has been in this predicament. And it surely won’t be the last. He winks at them as he walks by, and he puts you down as he reaches his door, your body dropping like a stone as he lets you fall with no care.
You can do nothing but groan as he drags you by your underarms and into his room. God you want to go home. Not to your student accommodation. Home. You want to be with your parents and under your own roof, sleeping in your own bed. It’s hard to even tell where you are. Are you still in the kitchen? No, there’s no way.
All you can think about is how tired you are.
Suddenly, you’re in the air, being flung onto a nearby bed. You feel like your body doesn’t belong to you. You’re no longer in control and you can’t move your limbs how you want to. You want to use your legs and walk right on out of here and into a taxi.
But you’re lucky, really.
Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. It’s all his. His to do whatever he wants with. You can’t move, and yet Oliver is going to be kind enough to move you however he likes. Maybe you don’t feel so lucky about it. But you’re just confused right now. Oliver knows you wanted this. Wanted him. The pill in your drink was just a little insurance policy to make sure everyone got what they want.
He prefers girls like this anyway.
Nice ‘n pliant.
“Said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he smiles, lecherous hands feeling each and every inch of your body. A curious hand reaching up to touch the fat flesh of one of your tits as he massages it over your tiny little dress. “Think you can wear something like this and expect me not to fuck you?” he whispers.
“Mmmpf…” you hum, there’s still a little defiance in you. At this point, he wouldn’t mind if you were on the cusp of sleep. There’s something so special to him about extracting salacious moans from unconscious bodies.
“’m just getting you out of this little thing… gonna find a comfy t-shirt for you to wear to sleep.” he assures you. He wonders if you believe him. He almost believes himself. But as he pulls down the strapless bust of your dress and your supple flesh is revealed to him, the thought of covering it again dies an instant death in his mind. “Fuuuuuck, gorgeous fuckin’ tits.” he moans, his bulge straining against his jeans as envisions himself sucking them until they’re puckered and raw.
He climbs over you, your tiny frame beneath his domineering one. He’s sure you hadn’t neglected to notice how muscular he is before you passed out, even beneath his clothes. He must be some kind of athlete. He’s too beefy not to be. And boy, does he use his weight and size to his advantage when he’s dealing with delicate things like you.
His head practically falls from his shoulder as he decides to let his fantasy come to life. He licks and laves over your tits individually until he gets a little rougher. Softly nibbling the tender buds until they are aching and so sore. His teeth bruise your flesh as he marks them. An assortment of canines and molars as well as decorative love bites.
Any chance you had of forgetting this party are gone.
You’ll know what happened to you.
You might even remember who did it.
But there’s no way a sweet, timid freshman like you is going to have the courage to tell such an unbelievable tale. You might think there are steps in place to protect innocent things like you. You’re a victim, after all. You need protecting. But once again, that would just be so telling as to how naïve you truly are. Drugging pretty girls at college parties is never going to end. The staff, the students, even the police are never going to side with you.
And why would they? These false statements issued by the board, talks of ‘standing with victims’ and offering a listening ear are nothing but lip service. The institution you have found yourself in will say anything to seem like a worthwhile choice. The right and most beneficial choice to you and your future.
But the harrowing truth is that they don’t have time to protect girls like you when they are too busy covering up the messes of men like him.
He pushes your dress up to your midsection, exposing a pair of white lace panties.
“Awe, for me? You knew you were gonna get lucky tonight, didn’t you?” he asks. But of course, you’re unresponsive. His finger prods at the thin material, an involuntary laugh leaving his lungs as he is greeted with the feeling of your soaked underwear on the pad of his digit. “Too dumb t’speak right now… good job your cunt is telling me how much you want me.”
His thumb circles your clit over the material. And even he’s a little dumbfounded at the way your body betrays you. You squirm and your brows furrow as you try to stave off the pleasurable feeling. But for all he knows, you could be trying to fight him off.
He doesn’t care, though, your pussy already gave your true feelings away.
Even he can’t ignore the way his cock is leaking at the sight of your tight heat becoming exposed as he peels away your panties. A slick string connecting your sex to the material.
You must be a virgin, he thinks. Virgins get wet so easily. He suspected it from the moment he saw you. You’re so awkward and uncomfortable around people, but especially guys. You fumble over your words, and you can’t flirt to save your fucking life. But he didn’t care. The thought of your first time being with him was enough to make him want you. And even if you have fucked before. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t need to know. The very thought is enough.
He pins your knees to your chest, and he begins to feast on your dripping cunt. You shudder as your body feels the tension building with each suckle and slurp against your clit. It’s unrelenting, he can’t get enough of you. He’s fucking addicted to the taste of your slick and he doesn’t know how he’s gone so long without it. Your left leg ragdolls as he lets go, opting to slip a finger into your unprepared hole without stopping his assault on your swollen clit.
And without hesitation, he’s adding another. He takes his time scissoring you open, and by now he’s convinced you’re a virgin. You’re so fucking tight. There’s no way you’ve had a dick inside of you. Or if you have, it must have been small.
You won’t have to worry about that with him.
Even unconscious, he’s sure you’ll feel how he’s gonna stretch you.
Your lazy groans are like a cheer to him. Your body is telling him what a great job he’s doing. How close you are. How badly you want to cum in his mouth and douse his thick, calloused fingers in your syrupy sheen.
The tip of his tongue lashes over the throbbing button at the apex of your thighs. He doesn’t particularly care if you take him well or not. You’re going to take him regardless. But he isn’t so heartless he won’t try and make it a little less painful for you. He’s urging you to cum for him, his free hand pressing down on your abdomen in a bid to enhance your pleasure. With each whip of his tongue against your clit and every press of your spongy insides with his fingers, he’s trying to drag you over the edge.
Your lifeless body surprises him once more.
He pulls away and observes the way your pussy pulses and your walls tighten around his fingers as you begin to cum for him. Your spent little cunt drooling around his thick digits and coating them in your slick. You even moaned for him. Not loudly, of course. A few tell-tale grunts to let him know you were happy with his work.
His eyes ogle your tits once again, admiring the way your chest rises and falls as he sucks his fingers clean. You’re so fucking cute. You must be heaven sent, the way you stepped into the frat may as well have been a gift with a garish bow from Santa Claus himself.
He unbuckles his belt with one hand whilst squeezing and pinching your nipples once again. They’re so pretty, the prettiest pair of tits he’s ever seen. He’s rock hard in his jeans, leaking like crazy and desperate to be buried to the hilt in your sweet little snatch.
And his heavy cock springs free, the tip leaving evidence of just how desperate he is on his v-neck shirt. Pearly pre shimmering against the black material that is soon to dry and harden and meld with the cotton fibres. But he can’t find it in himself to care. He pulls it over his head and throws it into the corner of his room, he’ll deal with it another time. There’s something much more entertaining lying atop his sheets right now.
“Mmm… think this is gonna hurt sweetheart. But you’re gonna be good ‘n take it f’me, yeah?” he lines himself up with your entrance and gives your still body one final look before breaching your insides with his thick cockhead. “Fuckin’ hell you’re tight. You’re so fucking tight, might cum just from this.” he speaks.
He knows you can’t understand him, but he can’t stop himself from communicating with you anyway. He needs you to know how special you are. That out of all of the girls at the party, he chose you. Don’t you feel special? He’s sure you will when you’re stuffed full of his cum. It’ll all dawn on you tomorrow and you’ll feel so honoured that the one and only Oliver Aiku fucked you open and covered you in so many pretty patterns and was even kind enough to pump you full of his cum.
You have no idea how much restraint he’s showing by not instantly splitting you open on his thick, heavy cock. He can’t help but feel that slowly plunging into your virgin walls is a better display of claiming your body. It’s almost torture for him, easing in inch at a time at an agonising pace.
And when he’s fully sheathed inside your suffocating walls, the pleasure is almost too much, he could shed a tear at the feeling. But, of course, he won’t. He’s prioritising the task at hand.
He holds under your knee and pushes it further into your chest and begins to slowly roll his hips. It’s hypnotising, the way even out of consciousness your eyes can still roll back into your skull. He takes note of how he’s moving when your eyelids begin to flutter.
“Oh baby… right there? Like it when I fuck you there?” he wonders, experimenting with his movement and speeding up ever so slightly. His cockhead is nudging your g-spot so perfectly. It’s so deliciously soft, and those saccharine expressions you’re donning are about to drag him to an early demise.
His grip on your thigh is harsh. Another galaxy of purple bruises forming under his fingers on your doughy skin. He hasn’t noticed. It’s second nature to him to be a little rougher than intended. But it’s part of the fun, right? More little discoveries for you to find in days to come.
He’s entranced by the way his cock vanishes inside of your cute cunt. He’s being swallowed whole by your sticky lips. The sound reverberates throughout the room. The suctioning sounds of you pulling him inside and the tackiness of your pussy and his cock meeting again and again and again.
Your eyes squint as he yanks down your jaw until he sees your tongue. He’s so abhorrent and even at this point he knows this to be the truth himself. He just can’t fucking help it. He wants to do anything and everything to you. He wants to humiliate you because you’re just that special to him. With a cartoonish ‘ptuh’ sound, a glob of spit has landed on your tongue and is slowly sliding down your throat.
With a few more presses of his tip against your sweet spot, you’re spasming around him again. Maybe you liked it after all. You wouldn’t cum if you didn’t. Do you like being taken advantage of by reprehensible scum like Oliver Aiku? Do you like being unconscious while getting your insides pummelled? This might warp your tiny little mind. Maybe you’ll think this is love and this is what you’re meant for. It is, as far as Oliver is concerned. He doesn’t let up humping into your tiny hole. He spits in your mouth again, and it’s the final straw to pull him into his oncoming bliss right along with you.
“Little slut,” he pants, his hips faltering as he feels himself reaching the precipice. “Mine. My little slut. My fuckin’ cunt. H-Hear me? Mine.” he practically growls as he shoots load after load into your unprotected womb. “Ah— fuck. Fuuuuuck—” he finishes, fucking his viscous seed back into you.
He pulls out immediately after, admiring the way his sperm drips and squelches out of your spent cunt. You’re clenching around nothing, poor thing. You must miss him.
But you don’t have to worry. You won’t have to miss him for long. You’re not done, after all. He just needs some time to recharge. He wasn’t just going to fuck you once and be done with you. Not a perfect little pussy like that, no. Those drugs will be in your system for a few hours.
He’s far from done with you yet.
Tumblr media
© 2023 rinitxshi
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
cathkaesque · 6 months
Text
Statement on Israel’s Use of Starvation as a Weapon of War in Gaza by the Union of Agricultural Work Committees, Palestine
For five days, Israel has attacked Gaza with the aim of total destruction, and the situation is at an unprecedented level of urgency. Israel’s actions have amounted to a humanitarian catastrophe of unfathomable proportions. At the time of publication, the Palestinian Ministry of Health reports 1,055 martyrs and approximately 5,184 injured.
Israel has declared a total warfare stance on Gaza, imposing a ruthless blockade that denies over two million Palestinian residents of Gaza access to electricity, water, food, fuel, medical supplies, and any humanitarian aid. Israeli Defense Minister Yoav Gallant explicitly stated this strategy on 9 October 2023, saying: “We are imposing a complete siege on [Gaza]. No electricity, no food, no water, no fuel – everything is closed. We are fighting human animals, and we act accordingly.”
Israel’s deliberate use of starvation as a weapon of war demands the international community immediately respond with unwavering urgency and resolve.
Israel is indiscriminately decimating hospitals, schools, mosques, markets, and entire neighborhoods. Further, Israel threatened Egypt that it would bomb humanitarian aid deliveries to Gaza, prompting Egypt to withdraw its aid convoys. The Rafah Crossing into Egypt, the sole international exit from Gaza, has been bombed by Israel three times in a 24-hour period. This calculated assault severs Gazans’ only means of escape from ceaseless bombings or access to essential humanitarian aid. With Israel cutting off Gaza’s source of electricity, the only source of power was the Gaza Power Plant, which has just run out of fuel. In the case that it receives more fuel, Israel has threatened to attack the plant.
Israel’s assault is deliberately destroying any infrastructure that allows Gazans to support themselves. Vital agricultural and fishing infrastructure, crucial for food production, have been mercilessly attacked. Fisher folk cannot access the sea, into which sewage is spilling. The seaport is damaged, and tools are obliterated. Farming areas, often near the fence, have become vulnerable targets in Israeli airstrikes, and farmers whose land has not been destroyed cannot access it for daily agricultural practices. The Ministry of Agriculture reports that the bombing has done immense damage to agricultural areas and poultry farms, but the conditions make it impossible to precisely assess the situation in the field. There is a catastrophic decrease in food stocks, with shops across Gaza reporting severe shortages. The land and sea will face unimaginable environmental damages following these attacks, further preventing efforts to rebuild livelihoods.
Israel’s strategy aims to ensure that those who survive the bombs are condemned to a future without sustenance.
OCHA reports that the assaults have disrupted the UNRWA food operation, impacting at least 112,759 families. The poultry and livestock sectors are on the brink of collapse due to the severe shortage of fodder, endangering the livelihoods of more than 1,000 herders and affecting over 10,000 producers. This jeopardizes the provision of animal protein and the availability of meat and fresh sources of protein for Gaza’s entire population. Transportation of poultry to markets has virtually halted, and dairy cattle milk cannot be refrigerated nor marketed to factories, resulting in an expected daily spoilage of 35,000 liters of milk. More than 4,000 fisheries are at risk due to the closure of the sea. Gaza’s agriculture, poultry, cattle, fish, and other products are suffering from a lack of refrigeration, irrigation, incubation, and other machinery due to electricity cuts, causing spoilage.
Israel’s use of these tactics is not new by any means. Before Saturday, around 65% of the Gazan population was food insecure. More than 46% of the agricultural land in Gaza was inaccessible, and the fishing industry was severely struggling since fishing off the coast of Gaza has been restricted by Israel to 3 to 6 nautical miles.
Food insecurity is a human-made crisis, and Israel is manufacturing a mass starvation of the Gazan people.
It is the moral and legal obligation of the international community to intervene and end this crisis immediately. Food, as a basic necessity, must be allowed to reach the people of Gaza, and the deliberate targeting of civilian infrastructure must cease without delay.
We call upon the international community to take immediate action to stop Israel’s massacre of the Gazan population, demand the lifting of the siege, and establish humanitarian corridors for entry of aid.
292 notes · View notes
thus-spoke-lo · 10 months
Text
Compliments to the Chef // slimeball linecook!Sanji x f!reader // NSFW/18+ [feat. special guest appearances by fuckboy fwb!Ace and taxi driver!Zoro]
Written for @bastardblvd's Slimeball Collab
Tumblr media
Summary: A few nights pass after the sordid events of A Ride for a Ride, and you're working another late night shift at Franky's Flapjack Shack with Sanji, that damned pervert cook. Sanji manages to piss off your only remaining customer for the night, leaving the two of you alone in the restaurant. Soon, things start to heat up in the kitchen--and not just because that one oven door won't close all the way. CW: afab!reader [no pronouns used to address reader]; dubcon elements; slight praise kink/body worship; vaginal fingering; oral sex [f receiving]; brief degradation. WC: 3.7k
Tumblr media
“Goddamit Sanji!”
Sanji glances up from his sink full of dishes to see you in the doorway to the kitchen, one hand pressed firmly into your hip, the other gripping a plate. “You called, ma chérie?”
“Oh would you cut it with the ‘ma chérie’ shit, you’re not even French.”
“Hey, I am too!”
“I know you’re from Canada, asshole. And anyway, you got another plate of eggs back.” You toss the dish of half-eaten breakfast across the counter towards him, as a piece of bacon flops to the floor and bits of hashbrown scatter.
“So?” he scoffs, raising one curly eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips.
“So, he said they tasted like cigarette ash.” You cross your arms over your chest and stare at him unflinchingly. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
He shrugs as he reaches in his pocket and pulls out his pack of cigarettes. “He wanted his eggs over hard. That’s disrespectful to the ingredients…so I may have added some extra seasoning.”
“Sanji!”
“Fine, fine, I’ll make him another plate,” he mumbles as he lights the cigarette that dangles precariously between his moving lips. “On one condition.”
“And what’s that?” You’re not sure why you even bothered to ask—you know the answer will be some degree of unsavory.
“Just give me a little kiss.” He moves towards you, snaking a hand around your waist as he blows a ring of smoke in the air. “Just one.”
“I’ll tell him we’re out of eggs,” you grumble as you slap his hand away and huff back into the dining room to explain your unexpected dairy shortage.
*****
“Thanks a lot, asshole!” you shout as you swing the kitchen door open a while later, finding Sanji standing just inside with his phone in his hand, looking guilty as he hastily shoves it in his pocket. “Dude left without paying. So now we gotta explain why we’re short—again—and I don’t even get a tip.”
Sanji opens his mouth to speak, but is quickly shushed as you press your index finger to his lips.
“And I do not want to hear any ‘tip’ comments, you pervert.”
“Oh come on,” he grumbles as he tries to kiss your hand, “do you really think so little of me, my sweet?”
“…Yes.”
“Look, my dear, as someone who went to culinary school, I just can’t allow an injustice to be committed against food that way.”
You sigh and your head lolls back of its own accord as you stare up at the ceiling, counting the missing tiles. “Sanji, do we have to do this?”
“Ma chérie, I trained under the finest Michelin-starred chefs.” He takes a long drag off his cigarette and closes his eyes, becoming instantly lost in the vast expanse of his own bullshit. “When I worked in the kitchen of Chef Zeff, now that was where I learned to appreciate the simplicity of an omelet, none of this fried-egg-and-cheap-meat nonsense that we do here.”
He’s talking.
And he’s still talking.
And he’s still fucking talking, his words sounding more and more like the annoying hum of a florescent lightbulb. As you stand there and watch his lips move, his cigarette bobbing up and down, you start to wonder if maybe kissing him wouldn’t be such a bad idea as long as it would shut him up for a little while. He is a pervert, and a creep, and a bit of an egomaniac, but he’s also easy on the eyes, all sparkling blue eyes and soft blonde hair that was always falling in his face. And those hands of his—those long, slender fingers that you knew had to be capable of more than cracking eggs and gripping the hilt of a chef’s knife. Maybe he just needs to get laid to calm down and stop acting like he’s the greatest gift to the cooking world—although it would probably would be best to silence him if he has his mouth on your—
A sudden vibration in your pocket thankfully distracts you from your meanderings. You lean against the counter and take it out, chewing your lip as you see the notification on the screen:
BAD IDEA sent a photo
You already know what you’re going to find but you swipe it open anyway, and to no surprise, you see a text bubble that simply reads “wyd?” followed by a picture of himself—your forever-friends-with-benefits Ace is freshly out of the shower, strands of his black hair clinging to his chiseled jaw, rivulets of water dripping down his muscled body. A towel is hanging precariously from his lean hips, low enough that you can see the delicious v-shape carved into his lower torso, the one that practically leads you like a treasure map down to the long, thick column of a cock that you know hides just under that towel. 
I’m at work, you furiously text back, a warmth beginning to pool between your legs.
[BAD IDEA]: when u off?
[YOU]: couple more hours
[BAD IDEA]: k, text when ur on ur way. i’ll be up.
[YOU]: I bet you will be.
[BAD IDEA]: wanna see?
Before you can even place your thumbs on the keyboard to respond, a perfectly-lit photo of his rock-hard cock appears on your screen, his large hand gripping it at the base. You inhale sharply at the sight, already counting the minutes until the end of your shift.
“So whose dick is that?” a jealousy-laden voice suddenly utters in your ear, whispers of smoke drifting up your nostrils.
“Fuck!” Your phone flies across the room and lands face-down on the wet, tiled floor. “None of your goddamned business!”
“Let me guess,” he says as he walks around in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours for even a moment, “some fuck buddy of yours?”
“Sanji, let it go.”
“Why? No need to be embarrassed, my sweet. Someone as gorgeous and utterly desirable as you deserves to have all their needs met.” He pauses to take a drag and cocks his head, a slight smirk settling in the corner of his mouth. “And he does meet your needs…right?”
You glance down at your shoes as a montage of encounters runs through your mind, typically ending with Ace rolling off you and falling immediately to sleep. “Usually.”
“Usually?”
“Well, I mean, sometimes,” you say, swaying your head a little as you try to count the orgasms he’s given you on purpose. “Like, it’s just not a big deal, you know?”
“My darling.” Sanji bends down to stub his cigarette out on the tile floor and walks towards you, leaning his body into yours as he places one hand behind you on the counter. “Don’t you think you deserve better than that?”
“Well sure…” you trail off as his body comes closer and closer to yours and you can feel the fire of longing radiating off him, almost creating its own atmosphere around the two of you.
He bites his lower lip, dragging it through his teeth, as his gaze flits between your eyes and your mouth. He leans in slowly, his lips almost brushing yours, and you don’t stop him—you don’t even so much as turn your head and you wait for the faint beginnings of a kiss, when he veers away just before making contact, instead letting his cheek graze yours as he moves to whisper in your ear.
“Your pleasure should always come first, you know,” he murmurs as one leg slowly slots between your knees, pushing them apart slightly. “You shouldn’t accept anything less than that.”
“Let me guess. Next you’ll tell me you’re the kind of man who would make sure I’m always taken care of, right? Is that where this is going?”
“Why don’t you tell me where it’s going, ma chérie.”
“A-alright, stop being a fuckin’ perv, Sanji.” You place your hands on his surprisingly firm chest and push him away, feeling at once annoyed and deeply, unsettlingly aroused.
He makes no attempts to stop you, just snorts a quiet laugh as he watches you storm out of the kitchen and into the dining area, and you roll your eyes at the fact he’s probably getting off on your tempestuousness. You stand behind the counter, hoping and wishing that someone would wander in, freshly drunk from the bar a few blocks down, begging for a hot coffee so at least you’d have something to occupy your body and mind for a while. Instead, the room remains empty and cold, accentuated by the low mechanical whirring of the ice maker behind you and the tinny rhythm of the royalty-free music playing softly over the one good speaker at the cash register. 
As the ice maker roars to life and noisily drops perfect little cubes into the bin, you sense a warm presence behind you, and a hand settles on your shoulder, gripping you gently. Long fingers reach up to brush your jaw, soft fingertips moving up to caress the apple of your cheek. 
“We’re all alone, huh?” Sanji’s voice lacks its usual repulsive air of desperation, replaced by a honeyed sweetness and a whiskey-smooth confidence you only heard when he talked about his cooking.
Without thinking too much about it, you reach up and place your hand on his, stroking the tops of his fingers, surprised by the silkiness of his pale skin. “But Sanji, we’re open.”
“I don’t think anyone would mind if we closed up to take a break. Do you?” He leans forward, brushing your hair away from your neck, and warm lips meet your chilled skin, sending a shiver through your core. The tip of his tongue traces along the delicate flesh of your neck, and he leaves a trail of gentle kisses back down the path he made.
“We are—ah—entitled to a meal break, I suppose.”
“I certainly know I’m hungry,” he groans into your shoulder as he nips at you through your shirt. “Why don’t you go wait in the kitchen for me, beautiful, and I’ll lock up?”
You nod, unable to readily conjure up any affirmative response and force it out of your mouth as you find yourself suddenly set adrift in a sea of passion. You meander into the kitchen and lean back against a metal worktable, gripping it tightly, wondering what in the hell is wrong with you—how it is that this curly-browed cook, in all his usual shamelessness, was suddenly able to enchant you, place you under some wicked spell of sexual depravity that has your heart racing and your core pulsing as you anxiously wait for him to return.
You glance out the small window in the kitchen door and see the lights in the restaurant dim slightly. The door swings open a moment later and Sanji’s gaze immediately settles on you, never leaving once as he crosses the kitchen to where you stand nervously against the counter. His hands settle at your waist as though they’ve always been meant to be there. “Shall we pick up where we left off, lovely?”
“Sanji, wait I—I need to be clear,” you stammer as you gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, feeling a little wave of pleasure roll through you as you notice how sinewy he feels under his stiff button-up shirt. “If we—if we do this…it doesn’t mean anything, okay? Not a damned thing.”
He leaves a soft, patronizing kiss on your forehead. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, darling.”
Without any further exchange, Sanji claims your mouth with a fierce urgency, feeding from the sweetness of your lips as though he was trying to absorb your very essence into his cells. His tongue gently pushes past your lips and dances and curls with yours, lingering flavors of nicotine and black tea filling your mouth, as his hands move up from your waist and push under your shirt, his palms exploring the soft expanse of your form.
“You’re so warm,” he moans into your mouth, “so perfect. I could do this forever.”
He intoxicates you with more long, drugging kisses before finally pulling away, a frenzied look of desire glimmering in his icy eyes. There is something in his gaze, in his touch, in his in effortlessly sensual kisses that has you ready to let him defile you right here in the worn-down kitchen, to bend over and let him take you right in the walk-in freezer, to have him utterly ruin you among the containers of pre-made spaghetti sauce and expired salmon.
He lowers his hands back down your body and tugs at the waistband of your khakis. “Take these off for me, my sweet?”
“Yeah, sure, of course,” you mumble through your delirium as you quickly unbutton and unzip, struggling with unsteady hands as you find yourself unable pull them off over your shoes.
“Here, let me help you, darling.” Sanji lowers himself to the floor and strips the cheap trousers off your body, a quiet gasp leaving his lips as his gaze scans the length of your exposed legs. “Fuck, you’re more beautiful than I ever dreamed.”
His hands settle on your thighs and slowly slide up, moving outwards to grip the plush curves of your hips. He carefully slips a finger under the waistband of your panties on either side and unhurriedly slides them down—he seems to know he doesn’t require your permission anymore, as you silently urge him to finish undressing you. You’re far too hazy already, starting to lose yourself to the debauched atmosphere in the warm, quiet kitchen, to notice him quickly slip your underwear into his pants pocket.
He stands and helps you up on the metal prep table, and you feel it move slightly under your weight as he settles you. He plies you with more sweet kisses, more meditations on your exquisite beauty, as his hand slides between your legs. Sanji lets out a whimper of pleasure as he glides his fingers along your slit, and you become shamefully aware of just how soaked you’ve become from your little tryst.
“Oh my darling, my beautiful, incredible darling,” he whispers as he gently begins to press against your entrance. “You feel like silk—like the softest flower petals.”
His long fingers slide inside you, and a sigh leaves your lips; his name drifts in the air between little gasps and moans. It feels so perfectly wrong to let him fuck you with those slender fingers, to use him for the pleasure you were so often denied, but the look of absolute euphoria on his face tells you he is more than willing to provide you whatever it was that your desired.
“You’re so wet for me, it’s incredible,” he groans as he slowly pumps in and out of you, watching you with a sordid fascination, enjoying every furrow of your brow and every heave of your chest as you begin to breathe in short, sharp gasps. He moves his wrist a little faster, crooking his fingers up to stroke that bundle of nerves inside you. “Does that feel nice, my sweet? Is this what you needed?”
“S-so good, Sanji,” you stutter as little waves of pleasure drift through your lower half, your muscles twitching with every thrust of his arm, and a warm tension begins to build deep within. “S’perfect.”
“Mm, I think I can do better, though,” he grins as he kisses you again, his teeth dragging against your lower lip. “May I taste you, my darling?”
“Please?” The word comes out in a whimper, and you don’t even mind how pathetic you must sound—you just need his mouth on you this instant.
“With great pleasure, beautiful.” Sanji languidly pumps his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt a little longer before he finally withdraws. He fishes a cigarette out of his pocket, touching his slick-coated fingertips to the end of it before placing it his mouth, getting the taste of you on his lips for the first time. He sighs as he lights it, taking a long, slow drag from the cigarette before carefully handing it to you. “Here, my sweet—hold this for me.”
“Sanji, I’m—I’m not thinking straight,” you shakily respond, carefully taking the cigarette from him and grasping it between trembling fingers. “I don’t wanna end up burning myself.”
“Don’t worry, darling,” he assures you as drops to his knees in front of you, “you’re going to cum on my tongue long before that’s out.”
He kisses up your leg, starting at your knee and moving up the plush inside of your thigh, until he reaches his paradise. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, a guttural groan rumbling in his ribcage as he fills his lungs with your scent.
“You smell even better up close like this,” he murmurs against your cunt as he kisses and sucks at your swollen lips. “This is like heaven, darling, and I never want to leave.”
His soft fingertips part you, and he licks one long, low stripe up your cunt before fucking you with his tongue, moaning as he darts it in and out of your pulsing hole, collecting your slick on it and greedily swallowing. “I want to drink every last drop of you, darling, you taste sweeter than honey.”
Your eyes flutter shut as he moves up to your aching, needy clit, and he laps and sucks at it, the tip of his tongue swirling over you, as he revels in every little moan and gasp, your noises of delight only spurring him on further to devour your pussy with the hunger of a starving man. Every flick of his tongue sends little bolts of lightning down your thighs, and you feel yourself slowly but surely losing control of yourself to this perverted menace of a man, who showers you with a kind of reverence that you’ve never felt before. You grip a handful of his blonde hair between the fingers of your free hand and press yourself into his mouth as your climax takes you by surprise, a feeling of heated bliss hitting you hard and fast, your body tensing and coiling, then releasing with a shuddering explosion. You cry out as he continues to bury his face in your pulsing cunt, his tongue never ceasing its movements over your throbbing clit as wave after wave of pleasure engulfs you, and your keens and wails of ecstasy are so loud, so powerful, that you don’t even notice the squeak of the kitchen door swinging open.
“Hey! Anyone back here?”
“What the fuck?” you stammer as you see a familiar man appear before you, and you hurriedly stub out Sanji’s still-lit cigarette that you hold between your shaking fingers. The local cab driver, Zoro, is standing in the kitchen, hands on his hips, bulging biceps threatening to pop the stitching on his shirtsleeves, his mouth slightly agape at the sight before him.
“How did you get in here?” Sanji shouts as he stands up from between your thighs, and quickly tries to cover your exposed cunt with a soggy dishtowel. “We’re closed right now!”
“Says ‘24 hours’ on the sign. By the way, I think your door’s messed up, had a helluva time gettin’ it open.” He pauses as his eye settles on you and he studies your face; after a moment, a lecherous grin begins to make its way across his lips. “Hey…I know you.”
“How the hell do you know my precious flower, moss-head?” Sanji takes a step towards him, his chin still glistening with your juices and his saliva.
“Uh, how do you guys know each other, exactly…?” you ask quietly, though your question is promptly ignored.
“Your ‘precious flower’ got a ride home from me the other night.” Zoro licks his lips and winks his good eye at you, as his gaze drifts towards your mostly-exposed lower half. “Gave me a helluva ride, too.”
“Zoro, shut up!” you hiss.
“Is that true?” Sanji wipes his mouth on his sleeve as he turns to you, a horrorstruck expression on his face, and he takes a step towards the table. “Did you—did you fuck this creep?”
“Sure did,” Zoro answers for you, moving in front of you to block Sanji from reaching you. “We had a little exchange of goods and services in the back of my cab, if you know what I mean.”
“In his cab?” His voice is nearly a screech now, his whole body shaking as he stares at you incredulously. “Really? His fucking cab?”
“Sanji, it’s none of your damned business!” you shout around Zoro’s side. “You’re not my boyfriend!”
“Yeah,” Zoro nods, “you heard the slut, stay out of it.”
“Zoro!”
“How dare you speak to my sweet darling that way,” Sanji seethes through gritted teeth as he moves closer to the cabbie. “I’m gonna beat the shit out of you!”
Zoro steps forward, pressing his forehead against Sanji’s, grinning wildly. “I’d like to see you try, curly-browed idiot. I can speak to that little whore however I want.”
“Out back,” Sanji spits as he sinks his index finger into Zoro’s chest. “Right now.”
“Fine!”
“Hey—try not to get lost on the way out.”
“I’m gonna kick your fuckin’ ass, cook!”
Zoro stomps after Sanji as the heavy door to the alley slams open, the handle leaving a deep dent in the drywall behind it, and you watch, dumbfounded, as it slowly drifts shut behind them and their curse-filled tirades begin to fade into the cold night.
“Holy fuckin’ shit,” you mutter as you hop down from the counter. You nearly topple over as you pull your pants back on, simultaneously scrambling for your phone, frantically fumbling for the video call button while you zip up your khakis.
“Mmm, hey. What’s up, baby?” Ace answers in darkness after a few rings, and a light clicks on beside him as he situates his camera on his chiseled face—even in the middle of the night, he looks devastatingly handsome. “It’s late, ain’t it?”
“Hey Ace, you got a minute?”
“Oh shit, you comin’ over?” He lazily pans his phone down his body, past his washboard abs, stopping once you have a view of his half-hard cock that lays against his steely thigh. “I can be ready whenever you are.”
“I’ll be by in a little bit,” you huff as you jog towards the back door, already hearing the subdued sounds of shouting and scuffling in the alley. “You gotta see this shit first.”
479 notes · View notes
somanyratsinthewalls · 6 months
Text
Kinktober Special Part 4
Tumblr media
Mo’s Kinktober Special 
The Crew’s Whore (Part 4) (+18)
Summary: You are the former owner of the Grand Line’s most popular brothel. Your power fighting abilities got the attention of the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates. He had asked you to join their crew but what would you bring to the team? Your battle skills were hardly comparable to many of the other Straw Hats… but you actually had a great skill. Your years working as a high end escort had prepared you to become the private plaything for this pirate crew. You joined the Straw Hats as their personal sex toy.
Pairing: Usopp x afab!reader
WC: 3200 ehehehe
TW's: Alcohol consumption, cowgirl, face sitting, oral sex m receiving, blowjob, a little exhibitionism, virginity loss, virgin usopp :( , oral sex f receiving, pet names, begging, submissive usopp :(
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
Chapter 4: The Liar
——
Earlier in the Day…
Zoro, Sanji and Usopp sat side by side on the railing of the deck watching their fishing poles in the water. The stores of meat were getting a little on the low side, and the whole crew knew what a nightmare their captain would be if there was a shortage of food, so it was all hands on deck for fishing duty. 
“So I had y/n in the bathroom the other day, it was insane.” Zoro starts after several long minutes of silence and no bites on the hooks.
“Yeah, I KNOW.” Usopp snaps back at the mention of what he walked in on a few days ago. 
“Haha oh yeah, I forgot about that.” Zoro chuckled and leaned back on his arm. “Sorry I’m not sorry, you were bound to see it some time. I don’t know why you don’t just have her for yourself for once, you’d understand it then. Oh wait, you’re too chicken shit.” 
“Chicken shit? Oh sorry I RESPECT women, and whatever configuration you had her in was NOT respectful.” Usopp shot back at the swordsman. 
“Oh yeah? Then why was she cummin’ all over the floor? Seemed pretty respectful to me.” Zoro smirked.
“He has a point, moss head. You obviously have no idea how to truly, romantically, pleasure a woman.” Sanji didn’t even turn his head to insult Zoro. 
“At least I’m not in there whimpering and begging! You think you’re quiet? It’s gross, shitcook, be a real man.”
Sanji stood up, abandoning his fishing pole, his right ankle beginning to flame. 
“Oh you want to fucking go, asshole?”
Zoro stands up to unsheathe a single sword. 
“Anytime, curly fuckface.”
“You guys really suck, man, I hope y’all know that.” Usopp sighed and grabbed his fishing pole to move it to the opposite side of the ship. He plants his pole against the railing as he lets Sanji and Zoro’s yelling fade into the background.
“HEY BROS? I SPECIFICALLY SAID NO DIABLÉ ON THE SHIP! CUT IT OUT!” Franky’s booming voice came from the top deck as he interrupted the idiots’ argument. 
Usopp thought about what Zoro said… he wasn’t chicken shit…
— —-
That Same Day, Much Later
This evening aboard the Thousand Sunny, the weather was warm and quite breezy. As per usual there was a large spread for dinner that Sanji had expertly prepared, and the alcohol was certainly flowing. You sat in between Luffy and Usopp, your ear drums basically exploded from the decibel of their laughing and story telling. 
“-And if I wasn’t there, that old lady AND her cat would have DIED!” Usopp was regaling the crew with some ridiculous story about a walnut tree that had been set on fire back in Syrup Village. Was it true? Absolutely not. Was he adorable? Of course. 
Luffy was laughing his ass off, believing every word. 
“Wow Usopp! You’re a real hero! I bet Mr. Snuggles owes you his life!” Luffy said between bouts of laughter. 
You giggled before you leaned in and poked the tip of Usopp’s nose, teasingly.
“You’re so cute, you know that?” You chuckled at him. 
“I.. uh…” Usopp stuttered out before quieting down, his cheeks flushed a dark red. Luffy, oblivious, picked the conversation up again, telling a story about a cat he accidentally tried to eat during his childhood with the bandits. 
After everyone had their fill of food and drink, the crew each returned to their own respective tasks and business. You hung in the galley for awhile, drinking another glass of wine and drying dishes for Sanji. He was always such a good boy for you, why not help him out?
One finishing your task, you gave Sanji a peck on the cheek, to which he fussed and fawned over you briefly, and you grabbed another glass of wine before heading down the stairs towards your room. With airy steps and chardonnay in your hand, you treaded down the hall towards the bedrooms. Before you turned the corner you heard something. A beautiful melody was being played somewhere nearby and it caught your ear. You decided to follow the enchanting sound to the door of the lounge and you pushed it open. 
Inside, Brook was playing a gorgeous tune on the piano alone. You smiled seeing him so happy and in his element. You sauntered over to the piano bench and sat down next to the large skeletal man. He notices you next to him and slows his playing to a softer volume. 
“Oh beautiful y/n! How nice of you to join me! Any requests?” 
“No, this is great. What you’re playing is lovely, please continue.” You sip your wine and close your eyes, enjoying the soft notes from the piano keys. Brook finishes his song and you clap your other hand to the wine glass gently to mimic applause. 
“Bravo, Bone Daddy.” You smile. You continue, “You know… I am sorry that you can’t… you know…” 
“Oh, don’t worry sweet y/n. It’s quite alright, it’s the thought that counts, right? Yohoohoho!”
“Hmm… I guess you’re right… Here.” You stand up from the piano bench and slide out. You hike your thumbs underneath your short, black pleated skirt. You grab the edge of your pink lace panties and pull them down to your ankles and step out of them. You grab your panties and fold them up nicely. You grab one of Brook’s skeletal hands and place the panties in them and close it up. “Keep em. My treat.”  You wink and you turn to walk out of the lounge. As you leave you hear unintelligible thanks spill from Brook’s bony mouth, saying he would cherish them as long as he lived (too bad he was already dead). 
You chuckled to yourself as you closed the door to the lounge behind you. You realize your glass was once again empty, so you returned to the galley to fill it. You poured another full glass of wine before heading out to the deck again. It was quiet, but you notice Usopp sitting on the deck fiddling with his slingshot and some sort of supplies from his bag. 
“Well hey there,” You holler at him from across the deck and begin to saunter towards him. 
“Oh, hey y/n. What are you doing out here?” Usopp doesn’t look up from his project. 
“Just hanging out. Though I’d enjoy this nice weather.” You walk towards the railing of the ship and lean forward on it. 
“Yeah it is nice out, hey if you go back in for another drink could you grab me a-“ Usopp looks up towards you facing outwards towards the sea. You were leaned over the railing and the wind was blowing your skirt up over your ass. Having taken off your panties, your bare cunt and cheeks were on full display for him. 
Usopp instinctively jumped up and moved his body behind yours to cover you. Although there was no one else on the deck, he thought to immediately shelter your most intimate bits from any prying eyes.  You felt him behind you and shot up. 
“Usopp…” You ask as you turn yourself around to face him, chests almost touching. 
“Y/n! What the hell are you doing? You…” He whispers and looks around, “you don’t have any panties on!” He very quietly but very harshly breaths out at you. 
You giggle. 
“Oh, that? Yeah. Does it bother you, Usopp? You don’t like seeing my pussy on the deck like this?” You tease him as you step closer to him, bringing your breasts to press against his torso. 
“No I mean I never said- I mean no! Wait yes I mean yes! Hold on, no, no I don’t dislike it I just-…” His brain was fried as if he just stuck his finger in an electrical socket. He could feel your nipples through your tight crop top. 
“Ohhh… so you DO like it?” You purr at him.
“YES obviously, yes it’s great I mean-“ He stutters as you wrap your hands around his neck. You pull him closer to you and you gently press your lips against his to shut up him. He freezes. It took at least a full 30 seconds for him to start kissing you back. Usopp finally gathers the courage to place his hands on your waist as you kiss him deeply. You pull back, holding the side of his face with one hand, looking into his nervous eyes. 
“Would you like to take me back to your room, Usopp?” You seductively ask. He blinks blankly at you. He wasn't chicken shit. He grabs your hand and pulls you quickly through the ship to his room. 
Closing the door behind you, you wrap your arms around him again, consuming him in another heavy make out session. You could feel his hands on your body shaking. 
“Nervous, sweetheart?” You pull back and coo at him. 
“Ha, nervous? Nah, no never. I do this all the time! You know I used to have a girlfriend back in Syrup Village, she was basically a princess and she and I-“ You press your finger to his lips. 
“We both know that’s bullshit.” You smirk at him. You trace your finger along his lips. “You’ve never touched a woman in your life. Never felt the hot, wet mouth of a woman on your cock. You’ve never tasted the sweet release of a pretty girl on your tongue. You’ve never felt the tight squeeze of a cunt while you’re deep inside of it.” 
Usopp whimpers at your filthy words. You snake your left hand in between your bodies to palm him over his overalls. 
“Shit- okay fine. You got me. I have no idea what I’m doing. I want to make you feel good but I.. I don’t know how…” 
“Then let me show you…” You push his body back towards the bed making him flop onto it. You slunk in between his knees  and removed his clothes. You slipped out of your shirt over your head and your skirts down your legs, not needing to remove your panties since you had already gifted them to your Bone Daddy earlier. His cock was so painfully hard already, it bobbed angrily in front of your face as you pulled down his coveralls. 
“Are you gonna… what are you gonna do?” Usopp asks you anxiously. “well… nothing you don’t want, okay sweetheart? I was going to take you in my mouth… if that’s alright my sweet boy?” You settle yourself between his thighs and start to stroke his cock slowly. 
“Yes… I-I want to be in your mouth please…” He stares intently down at you, hypnotized by your beauty and eagerness. 
“Hmm…” You hum as you slowly lave your tongue over the hot mushroom tip of his cock. 
“Holy shit y/n-!” 
You felt your cunt grow wet at the desperate sounds of pleasure that came from his mouth. You wanted to ruin him so bad. A loud whine escaped Usopp’s mouth as you took his full length down your throat. You brought your right hand up to cup his tight, heavy balls in your palm. 
Usopp’s thighs and abs tense as you continue to work him in your mouth and your hands. Nothing but moans and heavy breaths left his lips. He had never felt anything like this before, cursing himself for being too… well chicken shit, to ask for your services before now. 
“Y/n wait stop I’m going to-“
You used your left hand to grab his hip and press his body further into you as you took his cock in your mouth so far that your nose met him pelvis. Usopp whined as he released his heavy load down your throat. After several more ropes shot into your mouth, you pulled off Usopp’s dick as he flopped down back on the bed. 
“Woah… I kinda get what Sanji’s been talking about now…” Usopp uttered as he stared at the ceiling. You chuckled as you snaked your body up his chest to give him a peck on the nose. 
“What can I say? I’m a professional.” You cupped his face in your hand and winked at him. His expression changed. 
“Wait… What about you?” Usopp looked up at you with concerned eyes. “Oh sweetie don’t you worry about that!.” You stroked his cheek. 
“No… I said I wanted to make you feel good… can you… can you help me? Show me?” He desperately grabbed at your hips, grinding you down onto his cock that was already starting to harden again. 
“Hm… If you insist…” You smiled devilishly and sat up on your knees and moved to hover over Usopp’s face, leaving your sopping cunt mere inches above his drooling lips. His eyes bugged wide out of his head, the sight of your gorgeous bare pussy so close to his face was too much for him to handle. 
“Do you want to taste it, Usopp?” You teased at him, being barely out of his reach, not sitting down fully just yet. 
“Mmm Yes! Yes just sit! Mmm please just sit down I’ll do whatever you  want, just use me, please!” His speech was almost slurred due to him trying to reach his tongue out of his mouth to taste you already. You gave into his pleas and fully lowered your body onto his face. A breathy sigh of pleasure escaped your lips as his tongue prodded your weeping hole. 
“Mmmprhh so-mrrph good!” Usopp whined out against your sex. He bucked his hips up shamelessly, already fully erect again. You leaned forward to grind your clit against the base of his nose while his tongue fucked your hole. You threw your head back in pleasure and moaned loudly. 
“Ohhh, sweetie that’s so good! You’re so perfect for letting me use your pretty face like this. Such a good boy for eating me so well!” You praised him as you continued to ride his face, bringing yourself to orgasm. 
“I’m going to cum on your face now, Usopp. You’re going to lay there and take it, right sweetheart?”
“Mhmm! Mhmm” He nodded his head as you finally pushed over the edge. Your slick juices sprayed his face and neck as you cried out. Usopp moaned underneath you as his tongue darted out of your hole to lap up any remaining release from your folds. 
You collected yourself and slid your body back down his chest, your pussy dragged a wet trail down his torso as you moved. You hovered over his weeping cock, leaking a puddle of precum onto his toned abdomen. 
“Would you like to fuck me now, Usopp?” You looked him square in the eye. He was so drunk on your body and pleasure. 
“Yes! Yes, Please, I’d like to fuck you now! Please let me inside of you!” Once again he was begging beneath you. You could definitely get used to his. “Ok sweetheart, you can fuck me now. You’ve done so good.” You coo at him as you line his cock up with your soaked entrance and slide down. He wasn’t as long as Sanji or Zoro, but it was thick and hit your spot just right as you took him to the base inside yourself. 
“Fuck-!” Usopp cries out as his hands fly to your hips to ground himself, so lost in the pleasure of your tight cunt. 
“Sweetie you fill me up so nice, doing such a good job-“ You moaned out dreamily as you began to grind yourself back and forth on Usopp’s cock. 
“Fuck y/n… I can’t… I just gotta…” 
All of a sudden Usopp plants his feet and slams his hips up into yours making you almost jolt off his dick in the process. He hit you so deep. 
“Usopp!” You cry out in both surprise and pleasure. You shudder forward and lose your balance, hands landing on his firm chest to hold yourself up. Usopp continues to piston his length inside of you at an animalistic pace as you felt that familiar tightness in your belly begin to form again. 
“Shit, Usopp I- I think I’m gonna- AH!” He was bouncing you so forcefully on his cock, the soft, shy Usopp you knew was long gone as soon as he sunk balls deep into your filthy cunt. Your body was being tossed in the air with every thrust, your full breasts bouncing lewdly in his face.  “Gotta feel you cum again… Fucking do it… Cum on me again…” Usopp growled out at you as he took your right nipple in his teeth. You cried out in pain and pleasure as his grip tightened on your hips, holding you so hard you knew you’d be left with black and blue marks where his fingers were now. You screamed out his name as you let your orgasm wash over your body and you released all over his lower half. 
“Y/n, fuck, where should I-?” Usopp gasps out. 
“Inside… Need… inside…” You choke out between gasps, your body still recovering from your orgasm.
Usopp groaned loudly as he pulled your hips down so far into his that you felt his cock kiss your cervix harshly. You whined as he shuddered and came deep inside of your still spasming pussy. 
His body went limp. You leaned forward while he was still seated within you to place a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. You tried to as gently as possible remove yourself from his overly sensitive cock. He still groaned as you pulled yourself off of him, feeling his cum drip out of you onto his hip bone in the process. You laid down next to him and wrapped him in your arms. You pulled his down comforter over both of your naked bodies. You scratched his scalp as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around your lower back. 
“SooOOOooo… What’dya think?” You giggled as you asked him how his first time was, already knowing the answer. 
“Y/n it was-“
“GLAD YOU FINALLY GET IT, LOSER!” You both heard Zoro’s drunk, booming voice from outside Usopp’s bedroom door. 
“FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!” Usopp shouted, briefly rising from his resting place in the crook of your neck. 
You both laughed. You pecked him on the lips. “Goodnight, Usopp.”
“Goodnight, y/n.” 
You both quickly fell asleep in each others arms. 
224 notes · View notes