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lilacxoz · 2 years ago

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Boyfriend’s Daddy - Toji

F!reader

Cheating!reader, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, choking, oral(Toji receiving), slapping, dacryphilia, sadism, use of “daddy”, cheating Toji, you cheat on Megumi basically.

I am not responsible for people under 18 who read this. minors or ageless bloggers please dni!

You loved Megumi, you really did. But you always knew something was different, that you needed something more. You had always thought it was just the sex, he was never good at making things exciting due to his shyness. You understood that, but plain vanilla sex gets boring.

Then it was the poor aftercare, always falling asleep with his head in your neck. Never asking if you were okay and always waking up the next morning as if nothing happened the night before.

Next was his lack of emotion. You found it hard to read him despite being his girlfriend of two years. He’d always hide his emotions and you hated that, especially during really deep conversations. And it wasn’t that his lack of emotion meant lack of commitment, but sometimes that’s what it felt like.

You don’t know when you fell out of love with him, but you knew you hated yourself for it.

But now you were here, sitting next to Megumi while his mother and father sat on the other side of the dinner table. Megumi had his hand on your thigh like always, but it didn’t have that warm comfort anymore; It just made you uncomfortable.

“What are your plans tonight?” His mother asks, her voice sweet like honey while his father just held that scowl. There was something about his father that you liked, you just couldn’t quite place it though.

“Nothing really,” you reply with a soft smile, “probably sleep.” She gave a sullen smile, as if she knew how the love in your relationship has diminished.

“Your anniversary is coming up, anything planned? You both could use the beach house?” Megumi just huffed, shrugging his shoulders. “You know, we’re not getting any younger, a grandchild-“

“Stop! We’re not ready and never will be for that.” Your heart cracked a little at his words because you did want a child with Megumi, but it seemed he already made his mind up. You felt the shift in the air, taking Megumi’s hand off your thigh.

He was about to say something of your action, but his phone rang. He excused himself as you collected the plates to wash. “I can get those,” his mother protested.

“Let me,” you challenged, “please.” She didn’t protest, giving you a smile before she and her Husband settled on the couch. Their distant chatter and the sound of the sink is the only thing that helped muffle your thoughts. You felt a hand on your lower back as you felt Megumi’s breath fan your neck.

“Gojo…I won’t be home until tomorrow night. Love you,” he informed, kissing your temple. He took your face in his hand, planting his soft lips to yours. But those butterflies weren’t as strong as they used to be. “Talk when I get home?” You nodded, it seemed that’s all you did with him.

He then walked out, explaining his dismissal to his parents before leaving. You assumed it’s because Gojo came to pick him up like he always did. It was five minutes and you were halfway through the dishes before Toji came into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out a small bottle of sake. You expected him to leave after that, but he leaned against the counter next to you. You watched him open the bottle and take a sip, as if contemplating what to say.

“I uh, ‘m sorry about my boy. Something’s up, clear as day.”

“You don’t have to apologize on the behalf of his relationship downfall,” you say almost barely a whisper. Toji’s lips purse shut, he wasn’t apologizing for his son. He was apologizing for you. He watched as a tear fell down your cheek, trying to hide it as you faced away from him.

“I don’t appreciate pretty girls crying over my stinkgumi son.” You let out a soft laugh, hands washing a dirty porcelain china plate. He offered you some of his drink, cleaning your hands off before accepting the bottle. You took a big chug, impressing Toji by a change in your “good girl” persona. “Didn’t know a good girl like you could drink like a man.”

You softly chuckled, crossing your arms as you looked up at him. “Seems like to me your more of a girl yourself with how mysterious you act,” you tease. He let out a soft chuckle, your heart catching in your throat at the sound. It was a beautiful laugh, one that made your stomach go crazy.

“You’re a strange one,” he thinks aloud, making you shrug as you go back to the dishes.

“Guess I’m strange and pretty,” you say, repeating his words. He tried to hide the smirk on his face, liking the way you think and act. He started to see what his son saw in you, and he liked you a lot better than he did before.

He left you alone after that, meeting his wife on the couch. Ten minutes go by before you realized Megumi took the car. You stood outside, staring at the empty parking spot in shock. Then you felt a presence behind you, Toji tossing his keys up and catching them. “I’ll drive ya,” he said, walking over to his sleek black Nissan Skyline. You gulped, following him to his car.

You sat in the passenger as he turned the car on, roaring the engine to life. It smelt like him inside, along with being surprisingly clean. A bass heavy Petey Pablo song started playing, a very sexual song that made your face heat up.

“Didn’t know a late forty year old man listened to this kind of music,” you teased. He chuckled, his thumbs tapping on the steering wheel.

“I’m thirty-seven, and I grew up on this shit,” he said through a chuckle before a smirk. Your placed your hands under your thighs, listening to the erotic lyrics. You only felt nervous because this was a song you had sex too, and it may not have been good sex but it still roused some of the familiar emotions. You felt a second heartbeat between your legs and your breaths grow shallow. You hated it, hated how Toji was only heightening your arousal. He wore a plain black tee and grey sweats, exposing his defined and veiny arms.

It was a very painful ten minutes to your home, and a little awkward. There was tension, and it was painfully obvious what kind. “Look kid, I know exactly what your thinkin’, and it’s wrong,” Toji calls you out, making your face burn and body to curl in on itself. You nodded as you bit your bottom lip. You then stepped out of the car, not bothering to say goodbye with how embarrassed you were. Of course it was wrong to get turned on from your boyfriend’s father; but it had been almost a year since you were fucked and missed the rough sex. Now? All Megumi wants is soft sex.

You closed the front door behind you, leaning against it as you let out a pent up breath. You were aroused more than you ever were with Megumi, and you felt embarrassed. You spent a good two minutes self loathing, thighs pressed as you tried to get Toji out of your mind.

You heard a knock on the door behind you, a little surprised because it was close to midnight. When you opened, you were met with a six foot three figure looking down on you. The next moments happened in a flash, his hands on your waist as he pushes you into the house, his lips on yours in a flash. His lips were rough, and you loved it.

He shut the door behind him with his foot, slamming you against the wall next to the front door in the foyer. You let out a yelp, his lips devouring yours as his hands moved to your ass. “This dress has been driving me fucking nuts, and since Stinkgumi didn’t fuck you in it yet then I will.” You moaned at his words, his lips moving down to devour your neck and jaw next. You let your hands move on their own, on his chest and palming him through his pants. You knew he was tall and muscular, but you didn’t think that would make his dick that big. Not even fitting in your small hand.

You felt his hips move with your hand, his own hand rubbing your pussy from behind. You moaned as he slipped your g-string to the side, one you wore for Megumi. You gasped as he slipped a thick finger inside your pussy, teeth biting your lip. “Fuck Toji!” You moaned, his finger curling inside you. You felt like your skin was on fire, your pussy clenching against his finger. He added another finger, your body hitching against his body.

You slid your hand inside his sweatpants, fisting his thick and twitching cock. He grunted at the action, hips bucking up into your hand. “This is so wrong,” he whispered in your ear, “but I bet you like that; fucking your boyfriend’s daddy.” When you didn’t reply, he brought a free hand up to your face, slapping it hard. His wife didn’t like his sadist pleasures, but the sultry smile on your face said you loved it. He slapped you again, your pussy fluttering around his fingers as they thrusted into you.

He then slipped his fingers out, forcing them into your mouth. Your tongue lapped at his fingers, eyes never breaking from his green ones. A smirk adorned his scarred lips, watching you take his fingers. “Why don’t you suck my dick just as good?” He asked, taking his fingers out your mouth and slapping your face again. The side of your cheek was red and stinging, but you loved it.

You lowered yourself to your knees, eyes never breaking from his as you let him take your dress off as you lowered. You were now in nothing but your red g-string, hands slipping off his sweats to reveal his thick and long cock. You licked a line down his slit dripping with precum, relishing in his defined chest and black line of hair from his stomach down to his pubic bone. He looked like a sculpture from the gods, knowing this as a shit eating grin forms on his face. “Suck,” he commands.

You take him in your mouth, his cock filling your mouth completely. He had a hand reach down to the back of your head, fisting your hair as he helps you suck him off right. He knew he was big, his wife refusing to even try to suck him off because of it. Five years it’s been since he last got sucked off, and he didn’t realize how much he missed the sight. As if he could cum on the spot.

You sucked and licked his cock, getting it glistening with your spit. He loved it, along with the mascara that was forming around your eyes from tears. The sight was one his son clearly didn’t take advantage of if you were so unsatisfied. Toji’s head fell back as he bucked his hips up into your mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

With each thrust of his hips made you gag on his cock, tears falling down the apples of your cheeks. But you loved how he used your mouth how he liked, your pussy missing his fingers with how much you wanted him to use your pussy like that instead.

He let out a deep groan before pulling you up by your hair, pushing your lips to his. His tongue dived into your mouth, exploring every part of you. He pulled away, leaving you breathless as you stared at him with glassy eyes.

“Go get a condom,” he says, but you just smile.

“I haven’t had sex in two months, you think we have condoms?” His eyes subtly widened at your words, there was no way it was that long for you.

“So you want me to fuck you raw? You dirty girl,” he purred. You just smiled with lidded eyes and a sultry smile, leading him to the couch just in the other room. He pushed you over the armrest, your ass on full display for him. He took his shirt off as his hand caressed the plush skin before him.

He loved the nice piece of ass you offered, not even caring it was already claimed by his son. If Toji wants something, his son isn’t going to stop him from getting it. His old girlfriends’ used to be scared of Toji, but you were the first one to poke the bear without fear. He liked that about you. He liked it a lot.

“I want you to tell me exactly what you want,” he affirmed, wrapping your hair around his fist and pulling you up so he could see your face-his other hand aligning his tip to your wet pussy.

“I want you to fuck me,” you moan out, hands holding your tits as you try to meet your hips with his. He just darkly chuckles, bringing his mouth to your ear.

“And my name is? I won’t give you what you want until you use the proper name for me.” He wanted to hear you call him daddy, wanted to see the redness form on your face as your needy cunt begged him to slam his dick inside.

“D-daddy- please give it to me rough daddy,” you cry out, gasping when he slammed his hips against yours. His cock plunged so deep that your legs almost gave out, your thighs shaking as your moans grew to quiet whimpers. It hurt, yet all you wanted was more. He began slow, watching your face contort from feeling full with pain, to feeling full with pleasure. He was eliciting noises from you that you didn’t know you could make, and it was pretty obvious. Toji just couldn’t believe his son didn’t know how pretty his girlfriend sang when she got what she wanted. No- what she needed.

His thrusts grew more pronounced and fast, your tits and ass bouncing with each thrust. You wanted more, wanted him to treat you like the cheating whore you were. And he was willing to treat just as such. His hand wrapped around your neck as he helped position one knee on the armrest to get a deeper angle. And with each moan, his hand squeezed your throat tight. He loved the sound of you choking, along with the flutter of your pussy when you did.

You were too much for him, giving him everything he ever wanted with sex. You were such a bratty girl with witty remarks, a girl who wasn’t afraid to back down. The girl of his dreams.

He pulled out of you, flipping you around so you sat on the armrest, legs wrapped around his waist as his hands gripped your ass. “You want to finish? Tell me what do I get from this exchange?”

You just moaned out as you offered your pussy to him. Yet, that wasn’t enough. Toji wasn’t one to want women, even shocking himself that he was married with a lovely step-daughter who he treated like his own. But he wanted your everything.

“Just your pussy isn’t enough,” he grunted, hair in his emerald eyes as he stared you down.

“Everything!” You blurted, completely drunk on lust and him. “You can have my everything. How you want it daddy.” Your answer pleased him, thrusting his cock back into you with inhumane force. The house filled with your moans and his grunts, the both of you nearing the end.

You came first, his mouth swallowing every cry as you came around him. He followed soon after, grunting and groaning as he came inside you. But the one noise he made shocked you, and it was a whimper. It was a noise you knew he didn’t make often from the subtle pink adorning his cheeks.

When he pulled out you pushed him onto the couch, straddling his hips. “I wanna hear you make that noise again daddy,” you pouted, teasing his tip with your finger.

“You’re gonna keep me up all night, aren’t ya?”

#jjk x reader #jjk toji #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk x y/n #toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji smut #toji zenin #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen toji #daddy toji #dilf toji #toji fushiguro smut

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p-redux · 6 months ago

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Follow up to my last post regarding Sam Heughan allegedly going camping last weekend with a mystery woman...

So, it came to my attention that another blogger connected the dots between Sam Heughan posting on Instagram from the Scottish countryside and a woman posting she was camping in what looks like the same exact spot. The other blogger went on to say something along the lines of not liking Sam's behavior due to who this woman is. And that she wouldn't post the woman's name as a result. This understandably created a lot of chatter and curiosity. People bombarded me with Anons and DMs about it. Certain people on my Team had a suspicion of WHO the woman is. The other blogger loves to claim that she's neutral and simply posts info. But the reality is she is very judgmental of Sam, and more importantly, she surrounds herself with CONFIRMED Sam haters, disgruntled ex-shippers, and Purv aka me haters. That's a FACT and theres no denying it. All anyone has to do is look at the bloggers who leave comments and likes on her posts--all KNOWN Sam haters, disgruntled ex-shippers, and long time haters of moi. The narrative this blogger perpetuates is that Sam is a man whore, and in this instance, a pervert for being with this woman. (She's young. Legal, but young.)

I, on the other hand, believe ALL dating is good, as long as it's between CONSENTING ADULTS. Sam is SINGLE. He can date whoever he wants and as many or as little women as he wants. And like I said in my previous post, Sam isn't deceiving anyone. Unless these women just landed on the planet, they all have social media and know how to use Google Search. They can SEE and READ about who he's dated or dating. I don't know about you, but every woman I know, the second they're interested in a guy, the first thing they do is conduct an extensive Internet search on him. Women are more efficient than the F B I when they want to find out info on a man. 🧐 Facts. And, on my blog, I don't use initials, for the most part, I write out full names, so any woman Googling Sam's dating history has LOTS to read about. 😉

I don't think Sam is doing anything wrong: he's dating multiple women, it's all consensual, and they are all of legal age. WHAT IS THE PROBLEM? Nothing, dammit, absolutely nothing.

So, if you want a blog that supports Sam and is glad he has an active love life, this is it. For the love of God, he's so fucking hot, who would turn down that golden delicious Scottishness? Not I, lasses, not I. Amirite? 🤗 If you want to be a prude with your panties in a bunch over consensual dating between a hot actor and the women who clearly can't resist his charms, the Sam hater blogs are waiting with open arms to brainwash you. Go there.

Okay, so onto what the other blogger posted. I was sent these screencaps. Sam posted this a few days ago. 👇

Closer shot of the mountains and sky. 👇

The mystery woman in question posted this. 👇

Here it is lightened up by me. 👇

Seems like the same place. The other blogger said she was sent screenshots of the mystery woman posting from the same place. And the caption in the top right stating she was camping. The other blogger cropped out most of the pic, except the top of the back of the woman's head. 👇

I lightened up the pic. It looks like she has blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. 👇

Someone on my Team obtained some info that led her to the account of a young female Scottish athlete. It seems that the other blogger is outraged with Sam's "behavior" simply because the woman is 19 years old. Yes, that's young, but again, she is a legal adult. And Sam is famous, there's ton of info online about him. I'm sure the woman Googled him before she got in a tent or camper with him. JS. She and Sam mutually follow each other. 👇

It was also pointed out to me that the only set of pics of his that she liked on Instagram is the one he posted when they allegedly went camping together. 👇 What a coinky dink. 🤔😊

She's an accomplished athlete, college student, blonde, Scottish. What's not to like? Again, two single, CONSENTING ADULTS. If that's a problem for anyone, then that's literally YOUR problem. Sam seems verra happy with his life. And any woman who spends little or lots of time with him, I'm sure is happy as well. Again, what is the problem? None that I can see. But, hey, I love sex, and camping, and Scottish lads who look like this. 👇🤷‍♀️

PS. I'm not going to post her name FOR NOW because there is no concrete confirmation it was her. It's all circumstantial evidence at the moment. If I get something more concrete, then I'll post her name. In addition, I've gotten other DMs wondering if the outrage is because the woman isn't this athlete, but is one of the new cast of Blood Of My Blood. But, outrage over two actors on parallel shows dating would be weird since it happens all the time. Who knows...

That's what I have for now. If it's not the athlete in question, it doesn't really matter, the point is Sam is dating around, enjoying life. Sounds good to me. If you figure out who she is, please, don't be an asshole, and go harass her. Thanks.

As for the haters already frothing in my Anon Asks, keep 'em coming. I LOVE to laugh and laugh and laugh at your idiocy. Go ahead, make my day. 😘

#sam heughan #mystery woman #n.p.#scotland #young but legal #camping

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heartofbusan · 2 months ago

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"This story reveals a new playbook for waging a far-reaching and largely undetectable smear campaign in the digital age." Megan Twohey, NYT investagative reporting.

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/12/21/business/media/blake-lively-justin-baldoni-it-ends-with-us.html?unlocked_article_code=1.jE4.sYdZ.Ah3sVs-lnJ9z&smid=url-share

Being uninterested in current US celebrity gossip means that this story kind of whizzed past me this summer. I didn't sit up to take notice. Neither of these people is Jimin, so I tuned it out. Yesterday's court filing, however, finally caught my attention. That's revealed is fascinating if not outrightly horrifying.

The media has fully invested in our attention. It's become their biggest commodity and tool. Propaganda at its finest. We've seen cases like this before where two parties start up a smear campaign to tarnish someone's good reputation to sway public opinion. Oftentimes, these cases are a battle between a man and a woman. Think of Brad Pitt vs. Angelina Jolie, Johnny Depp vs. Amber Heard or, more recently, Trumpelstiltskin vs. Ms. Harris. Can we even go as far as to include MHJ and Hybe/Bang in this category? Or, the people vs. anyone they want to tarnish?

Public opinion is such a fickle thing. It's entirely malleable in the hands of the 'right' people. Anyone willing and unscrupulous enough to go the extra mile.

Park Jimin was just as recently as last week been the target of online hate campaigns. Helloo Min Yoongi? Kim Namjoon?!?! Basically, every Tannie has been wrung through the wringer like this to serve a voracious narrative. In their case, it was other fandoms fanning the flames of hate for the media to serve, but it's all meant to destroy a person's reputation.

I bring this article up because it's a good reminder of how much influence PR firms have when they want to change a narrative in order to suit their highest bidder. It makes me wonder how much of the bad press we hear (chatter online) is fully fabricated, maybe partly based on the public's incentive to dislike a certain person, and how important it is to read between the lines. To stay critical in your online interactions and in your dissemina of reports. Keep thinking for yourself. Your opinion can't become cement, in either direction.

Isn't it funny how PR playbooks have been exposed this year? Remember MHJ and her text exchanges about how best to go on the attack? Her confidence when talking to her co-conspirator as opposed to her demeanor during her presser? We are the ones being catered to! Our dumb minds are unwilling or unable to parse through to the truth. It's not surprising seeing as it's often very hard to figure out who's lying about whom.

I know some people love certainty, look at the nonsense questions most jikook bloggers get asked about, but it's better to stay flexible in how secure you feel about anything so as not to be surprised or dissapointed in the long run. Trust your gut when it comes to forming an opinion on someone or something and ask yourself, 'Why?' Why am I being asked to hate or voice my dislike on a celebrity whom I know nothing about? Why am I being driven towards a conclusion that serves but ONE narrative?

Come on, people, this happens to 'us' in this K-pop/ARMY fandom community as well..if not worse.

#celebrity gossip #public opinion #jikook #media manipulation #at its worst

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winxanity-ii · 1 year ago

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BITE ME

ship: omega!midoriya x fem!alpha!reader warnings: non-explicit (idk y'all i made it kinda angsty 😩) word count: 4.6k a/n: Y'all forgive me, I wanted to be mean to deku🫣 also, inspired by one of my fav bloggers @yanderenightmare AMAZING Alpha!Katsuki x Omega!Reader oneshot here. Plz check it out, y'all it's so well written i wanna snort it like coke 😩❤️❤️

★·.·´🇲‌🇾‌ 🇭‌🇪‌🇷‌🇴‌ 🇦‌🇨‌🇦‌🇩‌🇪‌🇲‌🇮‌🇦‌/🇧‌🇳‌🇭‌🇦‌/🇲‌🇭‌🇦‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·��

You've always known you were destined for greatness, coming from a long line of superhero alphas whose feats were the stuff of legend.

From the moment you could understand the world around you, your ears were filled with tales of valor and strength, stories of how your ancestors used their formidable quirks to save lives and maintain peace.

It was no surprise, then, that on your 5th birthday, amidst the excitement and anticipation, your own quirk manifested, revealing an ability to manipulate plants, control their growth at will, and harness their natural forces.

This power was not just an extension of your being; it was a testament to the lineage you hailed from, a legacy you were born to continue.

With each passing year, your pride swelled. It became not just a part of you but defined you.

By the time you presented as an alpha on your 15th birthday, you were fully entrenched in the belief system that had been passed down through generations.

The world, as you saw it, was divided among Alphas, Betas, and Omegas, with Alphas reigning supreme. To you, it was the natural order of things, a hierarchy that had always been and would always be.

High school became your kingdom, the sprawling hallways your dominion. You moved through the throngs of students like a predator, your Beta lackeys trailing behind, hanging onto your every word as if it were law.

They craved your approval, your attention, and you thrived on it—each detention, each act of rebellion, a badge of honor that solidified your place at the top.

Today was no different. You were walking down the crowded corridor, the noise of chattering students filling the air, when you spotted her: Uraraka Ochaco, the timid omega who somehow always managed to catch your eye in the most irritating way.

She was clutching her books to her chest like a lifeline, her head down as she tried to navigate the packed hallway, avoiding everyone's gaze.

A wicked smirk twisted your lips.

She looked like a deer caught in headlights, so utterly out of place among the alphas and betas that dominated the school.

It was almost too easy.

You cut through the crowd with a predatory grace, your lackeys snickering behind you as you made a beeline for her.

"Hey, Ochaco," you hissed, her name rolling off your tongue with a predatory sneer. The way her head snapped up, eyes wide and frightened, was almost laughable.

As you backed her into a corner, the crowd seeming to instinctively part around you as if sensing the brewing confrontation.

She tried to shrink away, her shoulders hunched as her back pressed against the wall, eyes darting around for an escape. "H-Hi, L/N-san," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper, like she was afraid even to speak.

"Oh, come on, you don't need to be so formal with me, Ochaco," you drawled mockingly, your voice dripping with false sweetness. You leaned in closer, your hand darting out to knock the books from her grip. They hit the ground with a dull thud, scattering papers everywhere. "We're just friends, right?"

The hallway was slowly emptying out as students hurried to lunch, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. Your smirk widened as you took in her panicked expression.

It was just the two of you now, your lackeys standing a little way off, watching with cruel interest. And the sight of her, so vulnerable and afraid, only spurred you on.

"Oops, my bad~" you sung insincerely, leaning down to pick up one of her books only to toss it further down the hallway, your eyes never leaving her face. "You know, Ochaco, you're always so clumsy. It's almost like you don't belong here." The casual malice in your voice made her flinch, her hands trembling as she tried to gather her scattered belongings.

You stepped closer, invading her personal space, towering over her as you tapped her forehead lightly with your index finger. "You're an Omega, Ochaco. Do you know what that means?" you asked, your voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "It means you're nothing. Worthless. A waste of space among us Alphas."

Your lackeys laughed at your words, one of them chiming in, "And useless—don't forget how dumb they are without us! She couldn't even answer a simple question in class."

"Yeah, how embarrassing," you added with a cruel smile, your canines flashing in a display of undisputed dominance. The predatory glint in your eyes mirrored the sharpness of your words, each syllable aimed to wound. "Almost like your tiny Omega brain can't keep up with us, huh?"

She winced, her eyes welling up with unshed tears, but she bit her lip, trying to keep them from falling. You clicked your tongue in mock sympathy, reaching out to flick her cheek lightly, as if scolding a child. "There, there, there. No need to cry. It's just reality. You're here for nothing but our will and pleasure, and that's okay."

The sharp intake of her breath was satisfying, and you couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. "Always stumbling over your own feet, aren't you, Ochaco? It's like watching a toddler try to walk." You reached out again, this time brushing a stray tear from her cheek with the back of your hand. "Remember last time? When you actually tried to stand up for yourself? That was cute. Hilarious, but cute."

"Y-You're so mean to m-me, ____-chan," she hiccuped, her voice quivering like a delicate leaf in the wind, pressing herself further into the wall as if it could shield her from your words.

You could see the tears brimming in her wide brown eyes now, her lower lip trembling as she struggled to hold back the sobs threatening to escape.

The sight only made you feel more powerful, more in control. "Ah, will you ever get it? You're pathetic," you sneered, your voice low and harsh. "All you're good for is—"

"Hey!"

The sudden, sharp voice cut through the air like a whip, and you turned your head, irritation flashing in your eyes. Aizawa Shota stood there, arms crossed over his chest, his usually tired eyes narrowed in disapproval.

Your lackeys, ever the cowards, took a step back, their earlier bravado evaporating under the teacher's stern gaze. They exchanged nervous glances before slinking away, leaving you standing alone. "Tch, pussies," you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes as they scurried off.

With a heavy sigh, you recognized the end of your entertainment and pushed yourself away from the tearful omega. "Here we go," you muttered with a scowl, bracing yourself for the inevitable lecture, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

Aizawa was an omega, yet despite this, there was an undeniable aura of authority around him, a quiet strength that demanded attention and obedience.

As he walked over, his eyes shifted to Ochaco, his expression softening slightly as he took in her tear-streaked face. "Uraraka-chan, are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle in contrast to the harshness he had directed at you.

She nodded shakily, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, still trembling. "Y-Yes, Aizawa-sensei."

"Good. Get to lunch." He waited until she had gathered her things and fled down the hall before turning his attention back to you.

"And you," he said, his voice hard again, eyes boring into yours with a quiet fury that had your pride roaring in your chest. "Detention," he stated firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Letting out a string of curses under your breath, you storm out of the detention room, the heavy wooden door slamming shut behind you with a thud.

The school corridors were mostly deserted now, bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun that filtered through the tall windows.

The detention shtick from Aizawa for bullying didn't faze you in the slightest.

What pissed you off was the inconvenience of missing your scheduled car pick-up, which meant now having to explain to your mother why you were late.

As you texted your driver that you were coming right out, you couldn't help but wonder how Aizawa had managed to catch you in the act.

It was usually an alpha or beta teacher patrolling the halls, and they always let you off with a mere slap on the wrist, dismissing your behavior as "growing hormones" or some other bullshit. But this time was different.

This time, Aizawa had seen through you, giving you a proper chewing out.

He'd gone on a long lecture about how unfair it was to use your secondary gender against Ochaco, spouting things like "respect" and "fair treatment" like you gave a damn about his bleeding-heart ideals.

You couldn't help but wonder if someone had tipped him off.

You rounded a corner, still simmering with anger, when a familiar, timid voice caught your attention. "T-Thank you for alerting the staff, once again."

You paused, curiosity piqued, as a deeper, unfamiliar voice replied, "It was no issue, but you need to understand I'm not going to always be around. You have to start standing up for yourself."

Peeking around the corner, you spotted Ochaco standing with a stranger. From your vantage point, you could only see his back and the unmistakable mess of fluffy green hair.

Ochaco stuttered out another thank you, giving him a short bow before hurrying away, her footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway.

Hidden from view, your gaze narrowed as the figure turned back to his locker to pack up for the day. The sight of his side profile—soft jawline, focused expression, and completely unaware of your presence—only fueled your anger further.

How dare he interfere and get you in trouble? Who did he think he was?

Seething in silence as you watched him leave, you made a silent vow to remember his face—to exact revenge when the opportunity presented itself.

No one challenged your authority without facing the consequences.

The encounter with the nameless savior did more than just bruise your ego; it sparked a fiery obsession within you. His unassuming demeanor and fluffy green hair, coupled with his audacity to challenge your dominance, marked him as your next target.

In the weeks that followed your initial encounter, every moment not spent in class or detention was dedicated to gathering information on him.

You observed him from a distance, noting his routines, his interactions, and the way he seemed to drift through the school, almost invisible to everyone but you.

It was during lunch one day, as you sat in the crowded cafeteria with your lackeys, that you spotted him again. He was at the other end of the room, sitting alone, his lunch tray untouched in front of him as he pored over a notebook, completely engrossed in whatever he was writing.

The sight of him, isolated yet content in his solitude, piqued your interest even further.

In a moment of passing curiosity, you leaned over to a Beta—Kaminari Denki—sitting next to you, one of the many who sought to curry favor with you. You asked nonchalantly, "Who's that?" nodding subtly in the direction of the green-haired Omega, not wanting to draw too much attention.

Denki's eyes lit up at the opportunity to provide information, eager to gain your approval. He darted his eyes towards the mentioned male, then back to you, a frown forming on his lips just looking at him alone left a bad taste in his mouth. "That's Midoriya Izuku," he said, his voice laced with a hint of disdain. "He's an Omega, but thinks he's something special. Always going on about being a hero, as if he could ever stand a chance."

Interest piqued, you continued to watch Izuku, your curiosity deepening with the Beta's every word. "He's a target for bullies, especially Bakugo Katsuki. But it's his own fault, always trying to play the hero, sticking his nose where it doesn't belong," Denki added, his frown deepening.

The mention of Katsuki, an alpha known for his volatile temperament, intrigued you further. "Bakugo, huh?" you mused more to yourself than to the Beta beside you.

"Yeah, and Midoriya just takes it. Never fights back. Thinks he’s being noble or something," Denki scoffed, shaking his head in disapproval. "It's pathetic, really. He's delusional; he thinks he can actually challenge an Alpha and make a difference."

This newfound information provided by the Beta painted a complex picture of Izuku that was both intriguing and slightly infuriating. Here was an Omega who dared to dream beyond his societal station, exhibiting a resilience and determination that was, in its own way, admirable.

Yet, according to the Beta, his actions were seen as foolish, a futile attempt at heroism.

As you turned your attention back to your meal, your thoughts churned.

Your gaze lingered on Izuku for a few moments longer before you turned back to your meal, your thoughts racing. The more you mulled over the Beta's words, the more your initial intrigue twisted into disdain.

Knowing Izuku was an Omega, the very notion that he dared to challenge the societal hierarchy—and by extension, you—ignited a deeper sense of animosity within you.

How dare he dream beyond his station, and more audaciously, act in ways that subtly defied the unspoken rules that governed your world?

The very idea that Izuku, with his quiet demeanor and lofty aspirations, could consider standing up to the likes of you or even imagine himself as a hero was almost laughable. It was a direct affront to the natural order, to the superiority you had been taught from birth was your birthright as an Alpha.

As lunch continued, you found yourself stealing glances at Izuku, each look fueling your growing resentment. His mere presence, the way he carried himself with a quiet confidence, unaware of or perhaps indifferent to the social turmoil around him, grated on you.

In your world, Omegas were subservient, not silently rebellious or aspirational beyond the roles prescribed to them. Izuku's defiance, however passive, was a blemish on the natural hierarchy you upheld.

You resolved then, with a cold certainty, to put Izuku Midoriya in his place. It wasn't just about reasserting your dominance anymore; it was about reinforcing the very principles that you believed made the world turn.

If Izuku represented a challenge to those principles, then it was your duty, as an Alpha and as a defender of the status quo, to quash that challenge.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch and pulling you from your reverie. As you stood up, tossing your trash into the bin, your mind was already weaving plans.

Midoriya Izuku, you're gonna learn your place...one way or another.

Finally, you found the right time to confront him.

It was a regular day, the sun sinking below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink as clubs dispersed for the evening.

You had meticulously positioned yourself near Izuku's locker, blending in with the dwindling crowd, waiting like a predator lying in wait for its prey.

Your eyes never left the spot where you knew he would appear, each passing minute only heightening your anticipation.

The hallway began to empty, the once-bustling corridors now quieting to a low murmur as students made their way home.

That's when you saw him moving with an almost cautious gait, his steps quiet and measured. He didn't notice you at first, too absorbed in gathering his things.

Perfect.

You watched him for a moment longer, letting the tension build, savoring the sense of control that came from knowing he was oblivious to the storm about to descend upon him. As he turned to leave, you chose that moment to step out from around the corner, your presence like a shadow creeping into his awareness.

"Izuku, was it?" you called out, your voice slicing through the lingering chatter of departing students. You took slow, deliberate steps toward him, each one echoing ominously in the almost empty corridor.

The sound made several remaining students glance your way, but seeing who you were, they quickly averted their gazes and hurried along, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

Izuku froze mid-step, his body tensing as he recognized your voice. His head turned, eyes wide and wary as he took in your approaching form.

For a split second, he looked almost hopeful that you might walk past him, that this confrontation could be avoided. But when your predatory smile widened, that hope faded, replaced by a resigned resolve that only served to fuel your desire to break him down.

Immediately, you sought to intimidate him, a tactic you knew all too well.

You wasted no time, your hand shooting out to knock his belongings from his grasp. The books and papers scattered across the floor, some of them sliding under the lockers with a harsh scraping sound. Izuku barely had time to react before you were upon him, using your smaller frame to back him up against the cold metal of his locker, effectively cornering him.

Despite the fact he was taller than you, he hunched his shoulders, his gaze flicking to the floor as if he could somehow make himself smaller, less noticeable, less of a target. But there was something in his eyes, a flicker of something that wasn't quite fear—was it defiance? Courage? Or merely resignation to yet another confrontation?

Your eyes narrowed as you studied him, your lips curling into a sneer. "It's come to my attention that a little Omega like you've been playing hero," you began, your tone dripping with mockery, each word laced with venom. You let the word "hero" hang in the air, your voice inflecting it with such disdain that it twisted the concept into something ugly and laughable.

"Standing up for those who can't stand up for themselves?" you continued, stepping closer, invading his space until there was barely a breath between you. "Is that it, Midoriya? Is that what you think you are? A hero?" You drawled the word out slowly, your lips pulling back in a cruel smile as you leaned in, eager to see his reaction to the bait you were laying out before him.

Izuku's jaw tightened, his eyes darting to the scattered papers on the floor, and then back to you. He straightened slightly, a flash of that defiance surfacing as he met your gaze head-on. "I'm just doing what's right..." he said quietly, his voice steady despite the slight tremor in his hands. "...helping those who need it."

You scoffed, your hand darting out to grip his chin, forcing him to look at you. "Helping?" you echoed, your voice a harsh whisper. "You really think you're some kind of hero, don't you? How dare you even think of being a hero and saving others when you can't even save yourself from a simple bully?"

You shoved his chin away roughly, satisfaction sparking in your chest as his head hit the locker with a soft thud. He winced but didn't back down, his green eyes glaring at you with a stubbornness that was both infuriating and oddly intriguing.

"Bakugo Katsuki, if I'm not mistaken, yeah?" you sneered, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilted your head to the side, your eyes gleaming with malice. "Isn't he the one who's always putting you in your place? Always reminding you of what you really are?"

Mentioning Katsuki was a low blow, an attempt to remind Izuku of his vulnerabilities and failures. You watched him closely, searching for any sign that your words had found their mark—a flicker of hurt, a moment of hesitation, something that would show he was affected.

His reaction was immediate. His usually slouched frame straightened, and he turned to face you fully, his expression unreadable, a blank mask that gave nothing away.

"Everyone deserves someone to stand up for them, no matter their status," Izuku replied, his voice steady and firm, a stark contrast to the mocking tone you had used.

Bingo.

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound sharp and echoing off the walls of the nearly empty hallway. "And what about you, Midoriya?" you taunted, taking a step closer, deliberately invading his personal space, your eyes gleaming with malicious amusement. "Who's gonna stand up for you?" You let the words hang in the air for a moment, watching as his gaze narrowed slightly, his fists clenching at his sides.

"Seems to me like you could use someone to protect you from, well... people like me," you sneered, your voice dripping with false sympathy. You leaned in, your breath brushing against his cheek as you whispered, "So tell me, how does it feel knowing no one's coming to save you?"

There was a slight narrowing of Izuku's eyes. However, his stance remained unchanged, unwavering in the face of your provocation. "I don't need saving. Not from you or anyone else," his voice carried a quiet confidence that seemed to fill the space between you, a confidence that made your stomach twist with irritation.

The boldness of his statement was grating, coming from someone you perceived to be just another Omega, someone who, by all accounts, should have been easy to dominate and intimidate.

Yet here he was, standing his ground, challenging the very foundations of the hierarchy you had been taught to uphold.

The audacity of his response fueled your anger further. With a swift movement, you shoved him into the locker, the metal clanging loudly as you gripped the front of his uniform, your face inches from his. "Careful, Omega," you growled, your voice a low, dangerous rumble, your nose flaring with barely restrained rage. "You might wanna watch your tone. Because from where I'm standing, you look like you need saving."

You expected him to cower under your grip, to look away, to show the fear you craved to see in his eyes. But instead, he did something that made your breath catch in your throat.

In a flash, the roles reversed.

Izuku's quick movement caught you off guard, and before you knew it, you were the one pressed against the lockers, his forearm pinning you there with surprising strength. The sudden shift left you momentarily stunned as you tried to comprehend what had just happened.

"I'm tired of people like you," he began, his voice calm, but there was a sharpness to it that cut through you like a blade, "thinking they're so much better than everyone else because of their second gender. Power isn't determined by your status. It's how you choose to wield it." There was a fire in his eyes, a smoldering intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You think you can intimidate and bully others just because you're an Alpha?" he continued, his voice rising slightly, a passionate edge creeping into his tone. "That's not strength. That's weakness."

Your inner Alpha bristled at the accusation, a growl building in your throat as you prepared to push him off, to reclaim your position, to put him back in his place. But then, Izuku did something completely unexpected, something that no amount of physical strength could have prepared you for.

He leaned in closer, his body pressing against yours, his presence overwhelming in a way that was almost confrontational, yet, it wasn't his proximity that disarmed you—it was the sudden wave of his Omega pheromones that enveloped you.

The scent hit you like a tidal wave, immediate and overwhelming, strikingly fresh and minty with an undeniably "green" essence to it. It was like standing in the heart of a rainforest just after a heavy downpour, surrounded by the lush, vibrant life of countless plants and trees, their leaves heavy with dew.

The smell of early morning grass, wet and alive, filled your nostrils, inexplicably drawing you in, making your mouth water and your gums tingle with a tender sensation as your canines instinctively elongated, reacting to the potent biological cues Izuku's pheromones were sending.

As the scent enveloped you, a warmth unfurled in your lower stomach—a sensation both foreign and intoxicating. It was as if Izuku's pheromones were reaching out, threading through your psyche for the dormant feral instincts.

Your legs wobbled slightly, a haze settling over your mind as the primal part of you responded to the Omega standing before you, challenging the very notion of Alpha superiority with nothing but his natural Omega essence.

His smirk, slight and knowing, seemed to say he was fully aware of the effect he was having on you, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something darker. "You know…" he began, his voice now carrying a weight that demanded attention, "I've been watching you for some time. Your arrogance, your belief in your own superiority… it's quite extreme. Maybe even stronger than Kacchan's."

He took a step closer, his presence enveloping you in a way that felt both intrusive and enlightening. "I've never understood why Alphas like you are so haughty, acting as if they're the epitome of strength and power." His words were calm, almost contemplative, as if he were merely stating a fact, his fingers lightly tracing the line of your jaw, the touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You found yourself unable to move, not just because of the physical barrier he had placed between you and freedom moments ago, but because of the invisible hold his presence now commanded.

Your instincts screamed at you to fight back, to reclaim control, but your body refused to obey, your mind clouded by the overwhelming scent that seemed to seep into every fiber of your being.

Izuku leaned in slightly, his voice a whisper yet loud enough to echo in the now silent hallway, carrying a mix of amusement and a hint of something more profound. "The truth is… Alphas like you bend to the will of Omegas like… me."

Before you could process his words fully, Izuku reached out, his fingers deftly catching a curl of your hair, twirling it gently between his fingers. The proximity allowed him to lean in close, his nose just inches from the side of your neck, where your scent gland pulsed with a mix of emotions.

"You're no longer in control here," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Izuku's eyes bore into yours, his gaze unwavering, a quiet determination burning in their depths. "Not anymore."

The intimacy of the gesture, the way he invaded your personal space, left you frozen, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment. His eyes, sharp and clear, met yours as he pulled back, leaving behind a confusing mix of emotions and an unexpected desire to hear more of what he had to say.

"Since you want control so badly," Izuku said, his voice lowering, a clear challenge in his tone, "then I'll show you how it feels to lose it." His eyes flashed with a distinctive Omega yellow, a bold sign of his defiance.

Instinctively, your eyes flashed red in response, a primal reaction to the challenge in front of you.

But despite your anger and the instinctual urge to assert your dominance, Izuku's pheromones had done their work. They wrapped around you, clouding your senses, leaving you momentarily incapacitated, unable to act on your aggression.

Izuku leaned closer, his eyes half-lidded, a wicked smirk spreading across his lips. "What's wrong? Not feeling so tough now, huh?" he teased, his voice a mocking whisper as he ran his nose along the sensitive spot of your scent glands causing you to hold back a shiver.

His mocking tone cut through the haze of pheromones, the humiliation of being outmaneuvered by an Omega sharp and bitter. The proximity, his scent mingling with yours, the heat of his breath against your skin—it all served to disorient and dominate, making it clear who held the power in this moment.

The irony wasn't lost on you.

Here you were, the Alpha, supposed to be in control, and yet Izuku, the so-called weak Omega, had turned the tables, leaving you completely at his mercy.

His actions were unlike anything you had ever experienced, challenging everything you thought you knew about Alphas and Omegas. Izuku was rewriting the rules, showing you that true power didn't come from brute strength or titles, but from the ability to turn the situation in your favor, no matter what.

He pulled back slightly, his lips curved into a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement at the effect he'd had on you. "I kind of like you like this—quiet, easy to handle," he murmured, his gaze sweeping over you, taking in your disheveled appearance, your shallow breaths.

You hadn't expected Izuku's pheromones to hit you so hard. It was as if your body was caught between two instincts: the need to dominate, to regain control, and a strange willingness to submit, to follow his lead.

The battle raging inside you was almost painful.

Izuku hummed softly to himself, muttering as if deliberating his next move. After a few moments, his eyes snapped back to you, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Hm, since you were so worried about my safety against Kacchan, how about you be a good Alpha and protect me, yeah?" he asked sarcastically, tilting his head.

Before you could react, Izuku forced your mouth open and tilted your head back, exposing your elongated canines. It took you a moment to realize what he was doing, but by then it was too late. He yanked you closer, pressing his neck to your mouth, forcing you to mark him.

The sensation was electric, overwhelming every sense you had. Your body moved on its own, instinct taking over as your canines sank into his skin. As your teeth pierced his skin, a bond formed between you two, something ancient and undeniable. It was a connection that went beyond the physical, reaching down to the very core of your being.

The moment was brief, yet it felt like it stretched on forever, marking him in the most primal way an Alpha could claim an Omega.

The rush of sensations was like nothing you'd ever felt before. Heat surged through your veins, filling you with a warmth that was both comforting and electrifying. It was as if every part of you was alive, buzzing with an energy that pulled you closer to him, connecting you in a way that was beyond words.

Your protective instincts, which had lain dormant, now surged to the forefront of your mind, chanting a relentless mantra of 'mine, mine, mine, mine.'

It was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, as if you could somehow merge with him completely. You bit down harder, not out of anger, but to solidify this bond, to make it known to both of you that this connection was unbreakable.

It was a declaration, a promise that he was yours, and you were his, in a way that neither of you could deny...

As soon as the act was done, Izuku stepped back, a hand gently touching the spot you marked, his eyes gleaming with that Omega yellow. "See, not so good being on the other end, is it?" His voice was laced with a victorious tone, yet there was an undercurrent of something else—something that didn't match the triumphant look in his eyes.

You stood there, shocked, your own eyes still flashing red, a mix of anger and confusion swirling within you.

The implications of what just happened began to dawn on you slowly, the reality that you just marked an Omega—a clear sign of claiming him as yours.

What were you going to do now? The school's dynamics would shift undoubtedly once word got out. Typically, the marking of an Omega by an Alpha was a significant event, often announced and accompanied by a period of courtship, a public declaration of mutual respect and intention.

But this? This was entirely different.

An Alpha marking an Omega out of the blue, especially under such unconventional and unexpected circumstances, was unheard of.

And not just any Omega, but Midoriya Izuku, the one Omega who had stood up to you, challenged you in a way no one else dared.

Your interactions with Izuku had been minimal at best, characterized more by conflict than any form of camaraderie or courtship. The school would be buzzing with rumors and speculation, none of which would likely be favorable or understanding of the situation's complexity.

Izuku adjusted his uniform, the wicked smile never leaving his face. "Well, I guess this changes things, doesn't it? I'm curious to see how you'll handle this." With that, he picked up his things, leaving you alone in the corridor, your mind racing with thoughts.

You were so used to being in control, to having others bend to your will. Yet here you were, outmaneuvered by an Omega who not only challenged you but also forced you into a situation that you never imagined possible.

As you watched Izuku walk away, a part of you knew this was only the beginning. You had to figure out what this meant for you, for him, and for whatever strange, twisted relationship you now found yourselves in.

The school, your friends, your family—they would all have opinions on this, but for now, all you could do was stand there, trying to process the whirlwind of events that just unfolded.

This was not how you expected your day to end, marked by an Omega, your pride wounded, yet a part of you couldn't help but feel intrigued by what Izuku said.

What did this mean for you? And more importantly, how were you going to face him tomorrow?

A/N: omg y'all, i got it bad for izuku, but let me know if you'd like a part 2 👀

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velvetporcelain · 3 months ago

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to whom it will concern

—- hello empty, infinite space and time— it’s me, a speck inside an endless feed.

i am really getting tired of cleaning and cooking and cleaning— but usually i feel a bit better when i remember that i can go and come as i please.

it’s almost Halloween. —- i wonder what you are going to be— if you’re going out to waste your divine masculinity meaninglessly.

i have been in hiding. Saving my energy for various things — i really don’t have much but a small desire to see what is trending- but you really don’t have to worry about me. i am still trying to forget you, erase you from my memory— some days i become impatient, some days i let them stay, some days i let them move me— some days i think i am keeping your alive purposely— to feel something maybe.

the guy at the gym asked me if i wanted to talk about life — and i said no— he just wants to suck on my divine feminine energy— and i need it more than anything.

— the last day of a summer like fall— and I thank October for a beautiful entrance into the hibernation hole— I don’t want to think about how long we have until we meet again— so I don’t. seasonal depression doesn’t really effect me negatively- it just pushes me deeper so I can reach the darker parts of me.

life is good and i am happy. i miss you, and i hope you miss me.

-x

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lightwing-s · 2 years ago

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alfred meeting food blogger reader for the first time during weekly visit when he off to new york visiting jason (which he gives Alfie reader's home address since reader wants to meat his grandpa) but encounter them in the farmer market when he and the reader both reach for a fresh batch of apple at same time in the same stall, also, jason and alfred both pretend not to know each other when reader introduce her new friend to her boyfriend as jason hugs himself around reader🍎❤🍎

It was a nice saturday morning, the early sun rays warming his face and contrasting with the still cold air hanging around. Jason had lost you sometime ago, but he didn’t worry. There was no need for it, in fact.

Y/n was always excited to go to the farmer’s market. And by excited he meant very, eager, exhilarated, psyched. You loved it. All kinds of fresh delicious food. All kinds of unique and different products. Everything a food lover, kind-of-a-chef, and content creator would love.

So he didn’t worry when he suddenly missed your hands in his, and your constant chattering about any and every product you found mildly interesting. He knew you were safe and that you would come back. And that’s a feeling being in Gotham never really granted him.

“Jason! Babe!” he heard you calling, quickly turning around in the direction your voice was coming from. “I found the most beautiful strawberries I’ve ever seen” you told him once he arrived beside you, eyes sparkling at your excitement.

They were truly beautiful. Big, bright red and without a flaw in sight. “My new friend, Alfred, and I were just chatting about how difficult it’s been to find such good strawberries these days, isn’t it?”

Turning to face your new friend, Jason followed your movements to land eyes in one of his most beloved and well recognized features. Alfred, now clad in a jacket and something else other than a suit, but still as posh, smiled at his foster son, extending his hands for Jason to shake. “Nice to finally see you again, Master Jason.”

The look on your face, of complete shock and surprise, must have been entertaining, because your boyfriend blurted out laughing at you, while you remained not understanding a thing. And then it clicked.

“He’s your Alfred?” you questioned, looking frantically between the two men. “Oh my gosh, you are his Alfrend, aren’t you? I’m so excited to finally meet you!” you embraced the older man, a bit surprised he let you do so without knowing you that much.

“And I’m happy to finally meet you too. Master Jason has talked a lot about you, miss.” Alfred threw a knowing glance at Jason, and you could’ve sworn his cheeks turned pink.

“And he has told me a lot about you too. In fact, you’re the only family member mister grumpy tells me about.”

While the two engaged in a long conversation, going from you excitedly asking Alfred to tell you about Jason’s childhood, to different kinds of food and recipes and cooking tips you could remember, Jason smiled happily at you two. Two of the most important people in his life getting along so well and so quickly.

He felt a strange sensation on his chest. A good sensation. One that made the small box hidden in his drawer seem ideal.

“Hey, Alfie” he interrupted, laying his arms around both yours and Alfred’s shoulders. “How about we get some breakfast back at our place?”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd blurb #jason todd #jason todd fluff #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x yn #red hood fluff #food vlogger reader

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ftmcollective · 5 months ago

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a little introduction to the ftm collective

hi! this blog is a place for transmasculine people (and those interested in transmasculine literature) to share, discuss and understand the various transmasculine experiences

i created this blog in an attempt to read, document, and share as much transmasculine and ftm literature as possible, both published and self-written; if anyone has any recommendations for books/essays/poetry/etc, or would like to share their own ideas or experiences, my ask box and submissions are always open

additionally im always interested in reading or participating in any journals, zines, essay collections, projects, etc, so please let me know if any are going

an extra little disclaimer, hate towards any group wont be posted to this blog, though all questions will be answered assuming theyre asked in good faith

a little bit more about me (the blogger), and a little about my tag system below

hi! im a trans man with an interest in ftm and transmasculine literature, im stealth/low disclosure in my personal life, so this is a place to discuss trans experiences openly! im a philosophy student and have a vested interest in what it means to be trans from a more abstract philosophical perspective, as well as historically, socially, and personally, so i hope to cover a range of experiences and perspectives through this blog.

whilst this blog will focus on transmasculinity, i am also interested in and may post about:

transfeminine, transneutral, multigender and xenogender literature and theory

sexuality, and in particular how being trans and sexuality can overlap

disability theory and activism

tags:

library - any full books or essays i post or reblog

recommended reading - anything books or essays i personally enjoyed and can recommend

ftmcollective - any essays posted or written by me

any quotes or segments from books, journals or articles are tagged with the name of the text and the writer

theory - any theory i reblog that isnt a book or essay

chatter - just me saying things

#ftm #transmasc #intro post

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rullakebu · 5 months ago

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Fetish Con Fur Queen (F/M, tickling, fur)

Zack stepped inside the Center, the fading rays of the sunset bathed the entrance in a warm, golden glow. The stark contrast of black banners caught his eye immediately. They hung ominously from the walls, their dark fabric absorbing the light. Each banner bore the same bold, blood-red text: "New Helsing Fetish Con", the lettering dripping down the fabric like fresh wounds.

The 20-year-old dark haired blogger had a thing for tickle torture. Seeing people tickling, women being the ticklers in specific, awakened something inside him, an indomitable desire that couldn’t be squelched. Zack had always dreamed of being on the receiving end of a tickle torturing by a ruthless tickler lady; he had never booked a session or landed a play date, however. His fascination with tickle torture was something he had kept largely to himself and it was an obsession that had lingered in the shadows of his mind for years.

He had spent countless hours online, reading stories, watching videos, and imagining himself in those scenarios. The thought of being tied down, unable to escape the agonizing pleasure of skilled fingers exploring every sensitive spot on his body, filled him with a mix of fear and excitement. A couple years ago Zack had decided to start a blog, where he published his thoughts regarding tickling and everything related to it, along with re-sharing the content he had found during his online adventures.

Zack had come across the ad for the New Helsing Fetish Con while scrolling through a local forum. The bold, crimson lettering had immediately caught his attention, igniting a spark of curiosity that quickly grew into an undeniable urge. It was a chance to finally step out of the shadows and immerse himself in a world he had only ever observed from a distance. The idea of attending a fetish convention had always seemed daunting, but something about this one felt like the right opportunity to take the first plunge into his deepest desires.

As the days passed, Zack found himself thinking about the convention more and more. The thought of being surrounded by people who shared his interests was both comforting and exciting. For so long, his obsession with tickling had been a private affair, confined to the pages of his blog and the recesses of his mind. But now, there was a chance to connect with others who understood the thrill and complexity of his fetish.

With this in mind, Zack made the decision to attend. As he prepared himself for the night, he reminded himself that this was just the beginning. Whether or not he experienced the tickling he fantasized about, this was his first real step into the world he had long dreamed of. The convention offered a chance to explore his desires in a new way, and Zack was ready to embrace whatever the evening had in store for him.

Zack took a deep breath and stepped inside through the glass doors, as if stepping through a portal to a different realm. The faint murmur of distant chatter from the main hall reached his ears, a reminder of the world he was about to enter. For a moment, he paused in the dimly lit foyer, the heavy silence around him contrasting with the vibrant energy he knew lay just beyond.

He closed his eyes, drawing in another deep breath, the air tinged with a mix of incense and something unidentifiable, yet tantalizing. His heart pounded in his chest, a rhythm that seemed to echo the mantra running through his mind: “You can do this. Just get in there. Just go.” The words were both a command and a reassurance, a way to steady his nerves against the wave of apprehension threatening to overwhelm him.

Zack could feel the weight of this moment, the significance of the step he was about to take. It wasn’t just about crossing a physical threshold; it was about crossing into a new chapter of his life, one where his fantasies and reality might finally converge. With one final, steadying breath, he opened his eyes and straightened his posture. The door to the main hall beckoned, and Zack knew that it was time to face whatever awaited him inside.

Just go. He repeated to himself as he took the first step forward, the sound of his footsteps merging with the distant hum of anticipation that filled the air. The main hall was at the bottom of a wide, grand staircase. Each step he took echoed in the stillness, the sound magnifying the thudding of his heart, which seemed to quicken with every downward movement.

Zack’s heartbeat pulsed in his ears, pounding in sync with his footsteps, like a drumbeat leading him into the unknown. The closer he got to the bottom, the more the distant chatter from the main hall grew clearer, transforming from an indistinct murmur into the lively buzz of a crowd. The atmosphere thickened with anticipation, and Zack could almost feel the energy seeping up through the floor, vibrating through his bones.

He reached the bottom of the staircase and paused, his breath catching as he stood before the entrance to the main hall. The doors were slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of warm, flickering light to spill out, beckoning him forward. He could hear the hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, and occasional bursts of laughter—sounds of a world that had, until now, only existed in his imagination.

He looked around the hall, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him. The space was vast, filled with an array of stalls constructed from sleek steel pillars. Each stall had a sturdy black wooden board perched on top, like a signpost marking the way into a different world. Written on these boards, in bold, blood-red lettering, were the names of the specific fetishes each stall catered to. There were representatives holding a presentation at each fetish.

Zack took a big step forward, feeling as if he were plunging into the depths of a world he had only ever imagined. The air seemed to hum with energy, a mix of excitement and anticipation that was almost palpable. As he looked around, his eyes were met with a dizzying array of stalls, each one more intriguing than the last. There were stalls dedicated to every imaginable kink and fetish, each with its own unique setup and atmosphere. Zack reached into his bag and pulled out a notepad, writing down the descriptions of different stalls he saw:

"Stall 1: Bondage Paradise—Leather straps, cuffs, and ropes displayed with precision. A dominant figure demonstrating intricate knotwork on a willing participant. The air thick with the scent of leather and anticipation."

"Stall 2: Smoking—A dimly lit glass booth. Inside, participants are smoking, as to keep the aromas and plumes of smoke restricted to their own section. It was basically similar to a separate smoke room you could find in a bar."

"Stall 3: Roleplay Theater—Costumes and props arranged like a stage set. Visitors don masks, transforming into characters as they step into different scenarios. A couple in the corner, dressed as a Victorian lord and lady, acting out a scene with remarkable authenticity."

Zack then saw a stall—the stall, his stall. The one that had been the focal point of his thoughts since he first set foot inside the convention. His heart skipped a beat as his gaze locked onto it. The sign above the stall stood out against the dimly lit backdrop, the blood-red letters stark and commanding: "Tickle Torture."

He scanned the sign slowly, his eyes tracing each letter as if committing them to memory. The words seemed to pulse with life, reflecting the deep-seated desire that had drawn him here. Zack could feel his throat tighten as he gulped, the reality of the moment sinking in. This was it—the culmination of years of curiosity, countless hours spent imagining and writing about this very scenario.

The stall itself was simple but undeniably effective in its setup. A padded bondage chair stood at the center, inviting yet foreboding. The top of the chair was like a cross with boards extending to the sides. At their ends were straps, designed to keep the victims arms in a T-position. The leg rests spread apart from the bottom, with stocks designed to keep ankles in place. There were toe ties attached to each stock. Around the chair, a box with various tools of tickle torment were arranged: feathers of different lengths and textures, soft brushes, baby oil, hairbrushes, Wartenberg wheels and other implements designed to coax laughter and helplessness from anyone who dared submit to their touch.

With sweaty palms, Zack wrote the description of the scene in his notepad, trying to capture every detail of the setup that had both intrigued and excited him. His handwriting was hurried and somewhat shaky, a reflection of his nervous anticipation.

As he lifted his gaze back towards the stall, he noticed a tall blonde woman standing behind the setup. Her straight, long hair cascaded down her back, and the glasses perched on her nose gave her an air of authority. She was dressed in a black leather corset, styled like a dominatrix's, accentuating her commanding presence. Her outfit was both elegant and intimidating, a perfect match for the atmosphere of the stall.

Zack’s attention was drawn to the various scenes unfolding around the padded chair. A woman in a sleek, satin dress was currently seated in the chair, her arms secured by the leather straps and her legs held fast in the stocks. Her face was a mix of anticipation and delight as a man, who Zack presumed was her partner, worked meticulously on her. He was using his fingers to gently tickle her armpits, coaxing soft giggles that floated through the air. The man seemed completely engrossed in his task, but making sure not to torture her too much.

Zack’s eyes moved to yet another participant, this time a man who had taken a turn in the chair. His expression was one of apprehension mixed with excitement as the tall blonde woman meticulously applied baby oil to his feet before using a soft brush to tickle him. His reaction was a blend of laughter and pleas, his toes curling against the stocks as the sensation washed over him. Zack felt a tent quickly pitching in his jeans, seeing the lady tease and torment the poor man’s sensitive feet.

As the man was finally released and stood up, a look of relief mingled with lingering amusement on his face, the tall blonde woman's gaze shifted sharply. It was as if her eyes locked onto Zack with a piercing intensity, cutting through the ambient noise and activity of the convention hall. Her gaze was unwavering, direct and commanding.

“Young man,” she said, her voice clear and authoritative yet inviting, “would you like to try?”

Zack’s bottom lip trembled as he stared at her in shock, his mind racing. The weight of the moment seemed to crash down on him, and a surge of uncertainty swept over him. The thrill he had felt moments ago turned into a wave of hesitation, and he struggled to reconcile the fantasy he had dreamed about with the very real and daunting opportunity before him.

He opened his mouth, but the words that came out were not what he had anticipated. “N-n-no thank you, I’m good,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes darted away from the chair, unable to meet the tall blonde woman's piercing gaze any longer.

In a swift movement, he turned and stepped back, his feet carrying him away from the tickling stall. His heart was pounding, and the surrounding sounds of the convention felt distant as he made his way to the stall directly opposite.

As he approached, the sign above the stall caught his eye. "Fur Fetish," it read in bold, inviting letters. Zack's pulse began to steady slightly as he looked at the new stall, the change in focus offering a momentary escape from his earlier apprehension.

The stall was a soft contrast to the one he had been at moments before. There was big fur rug on the floor and two plush chairs with fur rugs placed over them. There was a coat rack, with an assortment of different fur clothing: coats of different sizes and fur sorts and massive double-faced stoles. A small table was placed next to the rack, on it fur mittens and different hats. But the grandest installation was the massive bed, covered in massive fur coats and blankets.

There were only two people attending the stall, seated on the plush chairs. In front of them was a lady. She was dressed in a full-length Finn raccoon coat, its rich, luxurious fur cascading around her. The coat’s deep, natural brownish hues shimmered subtly under the soft lighting. Draped across her shoulders was a matching stole, its fur complementing the coat perfectly and adding an extra layer of opulence.

On her feet, she wore Finn raccoon boots, extending the theme of comfort from her coat to her footwear. The boots were stylish yet practical, their fur enhancing both their visual appeal and their tactile warmth.

Beneath the coat and stole, she wore a body bikini set made from the same luxurious fur. The set was both bold and elegant, showcasing the unique texture of the Finn raccoon fur in a more intimate and daring way. The fur’s natural patterns and colors created a striking visual effect, adding a sense of allure.

The woman’s appearance was further accentuated by her reddish bangs, which cascaded elegantly down her forehead, framing her face with a vibrant, eye-catching hue. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail at the back, its glossy sheen adding a polished touch to her sophisticated look.

Zack, feeling the need to escape the intensity of the tickling stall, stepped into the fur stall with a hurried, almost desperate energy. His movements were quick, driven by a mix of relief and lingering nerves from the earlier experience.

As he entered, the woman in front of him noticed his arrival. She glanced up and then down at his crotch, a knowing smile spreading across her face. Her expression shifted to one of amusement, as if she found something both intriguing and entertaining in his sudden, flustered appearance. There was a name tag on her chest and Zack read it quickly. “R. R.” it said.

She began her presentation, Zack immediately recognizing her slight accent as Dutch: "Welcome to the fur fetish stall," she began, her tone rich with enthusiasm. "Here, we celebrate the luxurious and soft sensations of fur in all its forms. Whether you're looking for the softest mittens, the warmest coats, or simply a plush environment to indulge in tactile pleasures, you’re in the right place."

She gestured gracefully to the various items on display, her movements emphasizing the elegance of her outfit. "Feel free to explore and experience the different textures. Our fur garments are crafted from the finest materials, designed to offer both visual beauty and sensory delight. You can try on any of the coats, stoles, or accessories and feel the exquisite softness for yourself."

The two other attendees, visibly intrigued by the offerings, began trying on different items. Zack, however, remained rooted in place, his initial sense of urgency now replaced by a lingering hesitance. He felt a sense of uncertainty, unsure of how to fully immerse himself in this new environment.

Ms. R. noticed Zack’s hesitation and gracefully walked over to him. Her presence was commanding yet soothing, and she approached with an air of practiced elegance. “Why are you not trying the furs, dear?” she asked, a slight hint of tease in her voice.

Zack couldn’t deny the alluring effect the fur had on him. The way the soft strands glistened under the ambient lighting, their sumptuous texture inviting to the touch, and how they draped so elegantly on Ms. R. were undeniably captivating. There was something inherently sexy about the luxurious material, its rich appearance and allure stirring a sense of desire.

“I-I-I don’t know,” Zack uttered, stunned in place. His voice wavered, betraying the internal conflict between his fascination with the fur and his lingering hesitation.

“Hm,” Ms. R. mused thoughtfully, her expression filled with curiosity. She grabbed a tail of her stole and spun it in the air as she slowly walked around Zack. “One of the main reasons people are sexually attracted to fur clothing is its sensuality. One of the main joys of this fetish is experiencing the distinctive sensations.” She stopped right behind Zack as she leaned next to his ear and brushed the tail of the stole along his jawline, whispering: “Kind of like tickling...”

The sensation of the soft fur brushing against his skin, combined with her intimate whisper, caused Zack’s neck hairs to stand up. Goosebumps spread across his arms and shoulders, the combination of tactile and auditory stimuli heightening his awareness and eliciting a visceral reaction.

“Attention attendees!” a voice suddenly announced, cutting through the ambient sounds of the stall. The voice was clear and authoritative, and the announcement commanded immediate attention. “The award show begins in 5 minutes. After the event, we’ll transfer to the after-party held separately.”

The remaining attendees in the hall quickly mobilized, their movements filled with urgency as they made their way toward the award show. The two other people who had been enjoying the fur items at the stall swiftly removed their garments. They carefully placed the fur coats, stoles, and accessories back on their respective racks, ensuring everything was arranged. Their movements were quick and practiced, an indication of their eagerness to attend the award show.

Zack turned away from Ms. R., intending to join the others heading to the award show. As he took his first step toward the exit, he felt a firm grip on his hand. He looked down to see Ms. R. holding him with a gentle yet unyielding grasp.

“Just a moment,” she said, her voice steady and commanding. Her eyes met his with a sultry gaze. “There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Y-y-yes?” Zack answered, still a bit shaken by her earlier teasy ministrations.

“I saw you watching the tickling display, when the lady tickled that guy’s feet with a brush. You watched it, intently. Your gaze never faltered.” She mentioned, walking in front of Zack. “You were captivated by it, never taking your eyes off of them. And once it was your turn, you walked away.” Ms. R. continued, circling behind Zack again. “Then you walked into my stall with a hard on…” She hugged Zack from behind, holding him in a fuzzy embrace. She whispered, “You wish to be tickled. You wish to laugh as a lady teases you with maddening ticklish touches. Yet you refused.”

Zack’s body trembled under Ms. R.’s embrace, the combination of her observations and the intimate contact overwhelming him. Her words pierced through his defenses, forcing him to confront the desires he had been both fascinated by and afraid to fully acknowledge.

“And when you came into my stall… I saw the look in your eye… the way you looked at me in my soft, luxurious, plush furs. You may not realize it but it was clear that you find fur arousing as well.” She let up the hug and stepped in front of Zack once again. “Sometimes,” Ms. R. continued, her voice enticing, “we need someone to help us confront our desires and fears.” She took notice of a twitching bulge in Zack’s jeans. She grabbed it gently as she leaned next to his left ear, brushing his right cheek with a sleeve of her coat, whispering. “So what do you say? If we have you tickled… right here, right now?”

“B-b-but the people…” Zack stammered, his mind racing with both excitement and apprehension. The thought of being exposed in such a personal way, even in a somewhat private setting, made him hesitant.

Ms. R. smiled reassuringly, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of confidence and understanding. “They’re too busy at the show to hear us,” she said, her voice soothing and persuasive. “And once it’s over, they won’t come back here. It’ll be just the two of us.”

Her words were accompanied by a gentle caress of her fingers against the soft fur of her stole, a gesture that both comforted and seduced. The idea of being alone with Ms. R. in the stall, having the opportunity to experience tickling in the exact manner he had always dreamed of, was incredibly enticing.

He nodded.

Ms. R. purred as her hands found the helm of Zack’s shirt as she lifted it up. He in turn took his shoes off and used his toes to discard his socks. Next she unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants, revealing a throbbing manhood to both of their eyes.

Ms. R.’s hands met Zack’s chest as she began to push him towards the stall opposite them. She made the young man sit and quickly strapped his wrists to the chair. She locked the stocks, but didn’t tie the toe ties just yet. She took a step back, taking in the sight before her: a helpless young man strapped to a bondage chair.

Ms. R. pulled a small roller stool over and sat down beside him, her posture relaxed but her eyes focused intently on her captive. The silence between them was heavy, filled with the sound of Zack’s heartbeat pounding in his ears like a relentless drumbeat. His anticipation grew with every passing second, the unknown of what was to come only intensifying his arousal and anxiety.

For a moment, Ms. R. simply observed him, letting the weight of his predicament settle in. The calmness of her demeanor contrasted sharply with the storm of emotions brewing inside Zack. Finally, she leaned in closer, her voice soft yet laced with authority. “This is your moment, Zack,” she murmured, her breath warm against his ear. “You’ve waited so long for this… to be tickled, teased…”

Zack's voice trembled as he voiced the lingering doubt that had been gnawing at the back of his mind. "W-w-w-what if I don’t laugh?" he stammered, the words barely escaping his lips.

“You will laugh,” Ms. R. assured, rising up from her chair to stand next to her captive. She lifted her right leg before taking a seat on Zack’s legs. Her finn raccoon coat spread over his lap, feeling like a warm fuzzy blanket. She leaned in closer, her face mere inches from Zack’s. “Because I will leave you no choice…”

Ms. R.'s fingers danced teasingly in the air, her nails gleaming as she wiggled them in front of Zack's widening eyes. His breathing grew winded and shallow, each inhale quick and rushed as he watched those perfectly manicured nails inching ever closer to his vulnerable, exposed armpits. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a mix of dread and excitement twisting in his gut.

And then, with the lightest touch, her fingers made contact. The sensation was almost electric. Her nails skittered over his armpits with feather-like precision. Zack's body jerked involuntarily, and a stifled laugh spread across his lips, the tickling sensation immediately spreading all over his nerves.

“Tickle, tickle~” Ms. R. mused, her teasing words burning through Zack’s psyche like a wildfire. “Laugh for me. Why resist? Let me hear those sweet giggles escape.”

Zack forced his eyes shut. The powerful tingling sensations vibrated through his nerves, spreading down his sides and arms as he felt Ms. R. 's nails lightly scrape against his open armpits. So this is what it felt like to be tickled. It had been so long, and it felt so good. The overwhelming tingling, the need to burst out into laughter felt so liberating and arousing.

Zack couldn’t hold it anymore and burst out into ticklish laughter, much to the pleasure of Ms. R. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OH MYHYHYHYHYHY GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAD!”

Ms. R. leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, "Told you... no choice but to laugh." She shifted her focus, beginning to slowly lower her flicking nails towards Zack’s quivering sides. “Now, tell me how much it tickles.”

Zack jolted forward when her nails met his sides, his eyelids blasting open as he met the knowing gaze of Ms. R. Her smile was warm and teasing, almost motherly. It was unlike any other, an expert tickler’s knowing smile. No words were needed. She knew exactly how much it tickled. Zack's desperate and ticklish laughter was indication enough.

Zack tried to buck in his restraints, but to no result as Ms. R.’s fur-clad figure kept him securely in place. Her tickling fingers spidered up and down his sides, eliciting helpless and uncontrollable laughter from him. The tails of Ms. R.’s fur stole brushed against his hips and the hem of her coat caressed his ankles as he tried to squirm away. He couldn’t help it.

Ms. R.'s fingers danced skillfully up Zack's sides, each touch sending jolts of ticklish agony through his body. As her nails ascended, they moved with deliberate slowness, prolonging the sensation, heightening his anticipation. Zack's laughter faltered as he braced for the next wave, his breath hitching when he realized her fingers weren't stopping at his armpits.

They kept climbing.

They climbed past his armpits and spread towards his wrists on each arm. Zack's laughter took on a new tone, a mix of desperation and helplessness, as Ms. R.'s fingers reached the sensitive skin beneath his arms. His head tossed back against the chair, his eyes squeezing shut as he struggled to cope with the intensity of the sensation.

After reaching his wrists, Ms. R. 's nails began their slow, deliberate descent, retracing their path down Zack's arms. The sensation was no less intense on the return journey; in fact, it seemed to grow even more maddening as her nails skimmed over the same sensitive spots they had just teased.

When she reached his armpits again, Zack assumed she would descend towards his sides again. But no, she kept tickling and spidering her nails in his armpits, taking him by surprise. His body reacted with a violent jolt, his laughter transforming into frantic, uncontrollable bursts as he thrashed desperately against the restraints.

Ms. R. giggled, amused by his helpless reactions. “Tickling 101: never let the person you’re tickling assume anything.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! ENOHOHOHOHOHOHUG! IT TICKLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHES SOHOHOHOHOHOHO MUHUHUHUHUHUHUCH! LET ME GOHOHOHOHOHO! PLEAHAHAHAHAHASE!”

“Aww…” Ms. R. cooed, leaning in close once again. She gave Zack’s cheek a quick kiss, her lipstick leaving a visible mark. She grabbed a tail of her stole, brushing it on Zack’s face and tracing the contours of his jawline, whispering. “It tickles, does it? But I can see how much you like it. I can feel your hard cock twitching beneath me with every touch. You love it when I tickle you, sweetheart. You can’t possibly get enough.”

Zack could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, his arousal becoming an undeniable, inescapable part of the experience. The combination of tickling and her intimate, taunting remarks stirred something deep within him, making his reactions even more intense. Despite his best efforts to control himself, the evidence of his desire was clear to both of them. Each ticklish touch seemed to only heighten his arousal, making his situation even more overwhelming.

Ms. R. stood up from Zack’s lap, revealing his throbbing red manhood from underneath. It was effectively begging for attention, its tip oozing with droplets of untamed desire. Ms. R. glanced at it and back at Zack, raising a teasing eyebrow. “You really seem to like being tickled,” she said, strolling over to the position between his legs and twirling her fur stole in the air with her hand.

Zack’s breath came in loud, uneven pants, each inhale and exhale filled with the lingering effects of the tickling. His chest rose and fell rapidly, the intensity of his recent laughter and the lingering ticklish sensations leaving him breathless and disoriented.

Ms. R. leaned in closer, her gaze fixed intently on Zack’s pleading eyes. Her expression was a mix of playful dominance and genuine curiosity, enjoying the sight of his vulnerability and heightened state. She lowered her hands, fingers poised with deliberate precision, and began to tickle Zack’s inner thighs.

Zack clenched his behind tightly, his muscles tensing as he instinctively tried to ward off Ms. R.’s relentless tickling nails. His legs shook with an erratic, involuntary rhythm, each movement a desperate attempt to escape the maddening sensations that were being inflicted upon him.

She continued her exploration, the tickling became a relentless, pleasurable torment, making it impossible for Zack to catch his breath or regain his composure. His eyes remained locked with hers, a mixture of surrender and excitement reflected in their depths.

The tingling sensation of tickle torture flowed throughout his legs and most importantly his pelvis. Zack’s cock twitched violently with each nail stroke, an indication of his overflowing lust for being tickled. The tickling was relentless, yet arousing. Zack felt himself nearing an intense ticklegasm with each passing moment.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle~” Ms. R. teased in a singsong voice, her tone dripping with playful cruelty. As she leaned forward, her face hovered just inches from Zack’s, and with each word, she shook her head side to side in a taunting rhythm. The movement of her head, combined with the mischievous glint in her eyes, only intensified the torment.

The unrelenting tickling and teasing words were enough to push Zack over the edge. With one final, breathless laugh, Zack felt the tension release, the edge he had been teetering on finally giving way. The overwhelming sensations flushed over him, as a streaks of cum shot out from his throbbing sex. Zack's yell pierced the air, echoing through the stall as he thrashed against his restraints. The intensity of the moment had reached a crescendo, every nerve in his body alight with electrifying sensations. It was as if his entire being had been wired to a high voltage cable.

Ms. R. watched with a satisfied smile, her eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and control. She had pushed Zack to his limits, and now she reveled in the sight of him completely unraveling after her touches. The power she held over him was palpable, and she savored every second of his surrender.

As Zack's frantic thrashing began to subside, his breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps. His body was trembling, every muscle tense as he tried to recover from the intense sensations that had just overwhelmed him. He slumped back into the chair, utterly spent, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

Ms. R. watched him with a teasing smile, her gaze never leaving his as she slowly stood up from her seat between his legs. "Oh, poor thing," she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "You look so tired... so vulnerable."

She strolled over to where he sat, her movements slow and deliberate, each step calculated to draw out the tension. With a sultry smirk, she lifted the fur stole from her shoulders, the soft, luxurious material sliding sensually through her fingers. Ms. R. gently but firmly wrapped the fur stole around his head, covering his eyes. The world went dark, the plush softness of the fur enveloping his vision, leaving him in a state of heightened anticipation. The sensation of the fur against his skin was intoxicating, the scent and feel of it only adding to the sensory overload he had been experiencing.

"We’re not done, sweetie. Let's see how you handle it when you can't see what's coming next," she whispered into his ear, her voice a tantalizing mix of menace and seduction. The world around him was reduced to darkness and the lingering touch of her hands, the sensation of the fur stole blinding him only heightening his vulnerability.

Zack couldn’t see a thing, but every other sense seemed heightened in the absence of sight. His hearing, in particular, became acutely sensitive, and he could pick up on every subtle sound in the room. The soft rustle of Ms. R.’s fur, the sound of her steps on the floor, and the faint swish of air as she moved.

Zack's tension was at its peak when he suddenly felt the lightest touch on the soles of his feet. It was a feather-light stroke, almost imperceptible at first, but enough to make him jerk instinctively in his restraints. Ms. R. had silently moved to the foot of the chair, and without warning, she began to tickle his feet. Her fingers danced skillfully over his soles, skittering along his vulnerable skin.

Zack's feet thrashed from side to side, desperately trying to evade Ms. R.'s relentless tickling fingers. But no matter how hard he tried to escape, the restraints held him firmly in place, and her flicking nails followed every twitch, never losing contact with his feet.

Zack’s desperate laughter was muffled by the fluffy stole tied over his face. The thick fur not only blocked his vision but also absorbed and dampened the sounds of his uncontrollable cackling. Each burst of laughter came out as a stifled, breathless sound, distorted by the softness of the fur accessory.

Ms. R. teased him mercilessly as she continued, her voice soft and mocking, “Such ticklish feet. You can’t help but laugh, can you? Come on. Sweetie. Tell mama how much it tickles…” Her words were delivered with a playful lilt, each syllable designed to provoke and tease. As her fingers danced mercilessly across the sensitive arches of Zack’s feet, the tickling sensations were made even more maddening by the way she spoke to him. “Tell me, darling,” Ms. R. continued, her voice a seductive tease, “how much does it tickle? I want to hear you say it…”

“IF TIFFFFFFFLLLLS! IF TIFFFFFLS SF MFFFFFFFCH!” he managed to cry out, his voice muffled by the plush stole and distorted by his uncontrollable laughter. The earlier ticklegasm had heightened his sensitivity, making each touch feel more intense than ever before.

Ms. R.’s voice was a teasing purr, filled with a mock-serious edge as she continued to enjoy Zack’s helpless state. “Oh, sweetie. I’m afraid that isn’t quite enough,” she said, her tone dripping with playful cruelty. “It has to tickle more.”

Ms. R. lifted her fingers from Zack’s feet, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she observed his reaction. The sudden cessation of the tickling left Zack gasping for breath, his body still trembling with residual laughter and sensitivity. She then pulled back the toe binds for each of Zack’s big toes, her movements swift and precise.

Zack tried scrunching his toes, desperately attempting to shield his sensitive feet from the impending ticklish torment. However, the toe bindings held his toes in place, rendering his efforts futile. His movements were restrained, leaving him completely at Ms. R.'s mercy.

With that, she reached for a tool from the nearby collection left by the earlier tickle mistress—a soft, fluffy brush with the most delicate bristles, promising a tickle like no other. She held it up with a grin, her eyes twinkling with anticipation. “Tickle tickle, darling…” she added, her tone both menacing and playful.

As the fluffy brush made contact with the exposed base of his toes on his right foot, Zack's efforts to resist only intensified the sensation. Each stroke of the bristles felt like an electrifying touch, the soft brush brushing against his skin in an exquisitely maddening rhythm. Zack banged his head back and forth, side to side, but it had no helping effect. Quite the contrary, as the fluffy stole tied over his face brushed and teased him with each bang, the hairs of fur tickling his face.

Ms. R. switched feet with a fluid, practiced motion, moving to Zack’s left foot. She adjusted the toe bindings and began to brush the base of his toes with the fluffy brush, maintaining the same maddening rhythm and pressure. As she administered her ticklish brushing to his left foot, Ms. R.’s gaze averted to Zack’s crotch once more. It twitched, rapidly growing in size. He was getting hard again.

Ms. R. giggled, opting to tease him once again. “Look at you, getting all excited again,” she teased, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “You love being my fluffy tickle toy, don’t you? You can’t get enough of being tickled by your fluffy tickle mistress.”

She continued the relentless brush strokes, her words amplifying the ticklish sensations and adding a new layer of torment. The brush moved methodically across Zack's left foot, targeting every sensitive spot with expert precision. Each stroke seemed to echo her taunts, heightening his helpless laughter and deepening his surrender to the experience.

Ms. R. leaned closer, her voice a sultry purr as she continued to brush Zack’s left foot. “How does the stole feel on your face? Isn’t it just delightful? The way the fur teases your face while I tickle your feet? You’re completely immersed in the experience, aren’t you?” she asked, her tone teasing and inquisitive.

Zack couldn’t deny that there was something inherently arousing about the fur stole. The sensation of its soft, warm fabric brushing against his face created a unique and intoxicating contrast to the tickling on his feet. The fur's plush texture felt luxurious and intimate, enhancing his overall sensory experience.

“Don’t worry, darling. Once I’m done with this tickle torture I’ll overwhelm you with the softest furs in the world. I can tell how the stole arouses you. How its brushing, its softness, its smell, its feel captivate you. You love fur, and you can’t hide it.” Ms. R. cooed.

Ms. R. lifted the fluffy brush from Zack’s toes with a slow motion, letting the brush’s bristles gently glide across his sensitive skin one last time. She set the brush aside and reached for a nearby bottle of baby oil, her movements smooth and practiced.

“But…”

She then approached Zack’s feet again, her touch deliberate and soothing as she began to massage the baby oil into his soles. The oil spread across his skin, creating a slick, slippery surface that heightened the sensations of tickling.

“I’m still going to torture you, darling…”

Without warning, she reached for a nearby hairbrush, its bristles soft but firm. She began to scrub the brush against Zack’s oiled feet with swift, rhythmic motions. The bristles glided effortlessly over the slick surface of his feet, each stroke sending waves of heightened, maddening sensations through his sensitive skin.

Ms. R.’s eyes sparkled with delight as Zack's muffled cries filled the room. Each "MMMMMMMMMFFFFFF!" and "MMMMMMMMFFFFFFF!" was music to her ears, a testament to the effectiveness of her tickle torture. The rhythmic scrubbing of the hairbrush on his oiled feet seemed to drive him wild, making his laughter almost incoherent as he squirmed and writhed in his restraints.

Zack's inability to scrunch his toes, coupled with his restrained position, left him utterly powerless. The hairbrush continued its relentless dance over his oiled feet, and every movement seemed to amplify the ticklish torment he was experiencing. Each time he tried to move, the sensations only seemed to increase, leaving him trapped in a cycle of helpless laughter.

Ms. R. teased, watching as Zack’s fur covered head thrashed from side to side, “Look at you, completely at my mercy. You can’t even move your toes, can you? All you can do is laugh and squirm while I tickle you, isn’t that right?”

She paused for a moment, allowing the tickling sensations to build up before continuing, “You know, you’re such a good ticklish toy. Every time I hear you laugh, it just makes me want to tickle you even more. You love it, don’t you? You love how helpless you are, how the tickling never stops.”

Ms. R.’s voice was a mix of playful cruelty and genuine enjoyment. “Just imagine how it feels. Being so utterly tickled that you can’t think of anything else, unable to do anything but laugh. You’re my ticklish little plaything, and I’m going to make sure you enjoy every moment of it.”

While Ms. R. had tickled and tortured him, Zack’s sex had grown to the size it had been before his first ticklegasm. It was throbbing once again, standing at full attention. It quivered in place, each twitch seeming to correspond to a rub of the hairbrush.

“I could tickle these feet of yours forever, and you’d still be begging for more. Wouldn’t you, darling? I mean look at your cock. I bet you’re just dying to tell me how much you love being tickled by your fur mistress.” Ms. R. teased, her words were a mix of taunting and affection, designed to keep Zack on the edge, both mentally and physically.

She resumed the tickling, her nails lightly brushing the sole of his foot she wasn’t brushing, adding a new layer of sensation to the ongoing torment. The combination of sensations drove Zack to new heights of ticklish agony, every nerve ending on fire with the intensity of her touch.

As she continued her merciless tickling, she added, “You’re my perfect little tickle toy. How does it feel to be so thoroughly and completely dominated by ticklish sensations? Just imagine how much more I could make you laugh if I really tried. I bet you didn’t expect this kind of treatment when you walked into the convention,” she teased. “But look at you now, helpless, laughing uncontrollably, teased by the fur stole on your face.”

Ms. R. lifted her hands, halting the relentless scrubbing and scribbling. Zack’s breaths came in ragged gasps, his body still trembling from the intensity of the tickling. She leaned back slightly, savoring the sight of his disheveled state, his face flushed and his eyes wide behind the fur stole.

She rose gracefully, her movements smooth as she walked back over to Zack. She dragged her chair along with her, the fur boots softly thumping against the floor with each step. The subtle sound seemed to echo in the quiet room, adding to the charged atmosphere. Once she reached him, she set the chair down with a deliberate motion, positioning it right next to where Zack was bound.

She reached over, her fingers deftly untangling the knot, and removed the stole from Zack’s face. The plush fur brushed lightly against his skin one last time before she pulled it away, revealing Zack’s flushed, panting face. Her gaze met his, a mischievous yet sympathetic smirk spreading on her lips as she took in his expression.

Ms. R. glanced at the stole, noticing it was damp from Zack’s sweat and the tears of laughter that had soaked into it. With a smirk, she casually discarded it, tossing it over her shoulder. "Looks like someone had quite the workout," she teased, her voice dripping with playful mockery. "But don’t worry, darling, I’ve got plenty more where that came from."

Ms. R. sauntered over to a nearby table, where a sleek, black toolbox sat. With a dramatic flourish, she opened it, revealing an array of tickling tools—feathers, brushes, vibrating tools, and other tickling instruments neatly arranged inside.

She dragged the toolbox over to Zack, positioning it within his view. "But now, darling," she purred, her tone both commanding and teasing, "since you've been such a good tickle toy, I’ll let you choose how you'd like to be tickled next. Which tool have you only dreamed about being tickled with? Go on, pick your poison."

Zack's breath came in heavy, ragged gasps, his mind reeling from the intensity of the tickling. As he tried to focus through the haze of his sensations, he recalled the many fantasies he had indulged in. Among them, one particular tool stood out. Something that had always intrigued and aroused him whenever he saw it used.

Finally, summoning all his remaining strength, he managed to stammer out, "A f-f-f-feather duster..."

Ms. R. smiled, clearly pleased with Zack's choice. "A feather duster, hmm? How delightful," she cooed, her voice dripping with anticipation. “Something like this?”

She reached into the toolbox and picked up a massive, elegant feather duster. Its head was adorned with an enormous bundle of the longest and softest ostrich feathers. Zack had never seen anything like it. It was like out of a dream… or a nightmare.

She swirled the duster in the air, letting the feathers billow and catch the light. “Isn’t it just exquisite?” she said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I can’t wait to see how this tickles.”

Ms. R. moved with an air of practiced grace as she lowered the feather duster toward Zack's quivering stomach. The feathers brushed against his skin with an exquisite lightness, teasing and tantalizing as they made contact. The tendrils dragged along his shivering flesh, eliciting electric tingling in their wake.

Each pass seemed to amplify the ticklish sensations, making his laughter bubble up. The tickling was both maddening yet arousing, the delicate feathers providing an intense contrast to the rougher tools he had experienced earlier. Zack’s aching manhood stood firm, pulsating with every ticklish swipe of the duster.

Ms. R. swiped the feather duster all over Zack's exposed torso, its soft, teasing strands skimming across his skin with an unrelenting, gentle drag. Her right hand worked the duster in broad, sweeping motions, spreading the ticklish sensations across his quivering body. Meanwhile, her left hand began to scribble her nails along his sides, the sharp, tickling contact contrasting sharply with the softness of the duster.

Ms. R. continued her tickle talk. “Coochie coochie coo, tickle boy,” she said with a mischievous lilt, her voice dripping with teasing affection. “This fluffy tickle monster’s gonna get ya.” Her words were accompanied by relentless swipes of the feather duster and rapid scribbles of her nails.

The feathers danced across Zack's skin like a fluffy tickle tsunami. They traced a path up his body, gliding along his right arm before crossing over his chest. She made sure to give his face a few playful tickles with the feather duster, the soft brush lightly grazing his cheeks and nose, before shifting it to his left arm. Each stroke and touch was designed to extort maximum laughter and arousal, intensifying the thrilling torment as she continued her playful assault.

Zack’s cock dripped with precum, as the duster fluttered back down Zack's left side, the soft feathers tickling his quivering form. Ms. R. paused her scribbling, her focus now entirely on the delicate, teasing movements of the duster. The feathers moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, sweeping down his side and occasionally flicking back up to repeat the tantalizing motion.

Ms. R. rose gracefully to stand, maintaining her focused, teasing demeanor. She maneuvered the feather duster with an elegant sweep, guiding it across Zack’s underbelly and along his waistline, the feathers brushing lightly but persistently over the sensitive areas above his hard display of arousal.

Ms. R. leaned in closer, her voice dripping with mock sweetness as she continued to maneuver the feather duster over Zack’s sensitive skin. “What do you think about the duster, darling?” she purred, her tone both teasing and seductive. “So big and fluffy and ticklish. Does it feel as good as you dreamed? Are you enjoying the way it tickles? The way the feathers caress you, covering you in their ticklish cloud?”

“It’s sohohohohoho bihihihig… It feels so gohohohohohohood…” Zack giggled, getting a break from the maddening laughter from before.

Ms. R. let out a soft, satisfied chuckle as she heard Zack’s response. “I’m glad you think so,” she teased, her voice laced with pleasure at his reaction. “The duster really knows how to get every last tickle spot, doesn’t it? I must say, you’re quite the delight as my tickle toy.”

“Pleahahahahase… Please let me cum again…” he pleaded, feeling his cock aching and begging for release moment by moment.

Ms. R. paused the dusting for a moment, her playful expression shifting to a more thoughtful one as she assessed Zack's reactions. She walked over to between his legs, her movements confident and purposeful with her fur-clad figure casting a shadow over his vulnerable position.

She let her eyes drift down to Zack’s bulging crotch, her expression both intrigued and amused. “Are you ready to see what this duster is really capable of?” she asked teasingly, her voice dripping with playful intent.

With that, she began lowering the feather duster, the massive plumes of ostrich feathers drifting ever closer to Zack’s most sensitive area. Ms. R. wiggled the duster as she inched closer, teasing him with the fluttering feathers, promising a sensational tickle. The anticipation was almost unbearable, each moment feeling drawn out as Zack’s heart pounded in his chest.

The soft tips of the feathers finally brushed against his privates, and the sensation was potent. Zack watched as his entire crotch was covered in a sea of fluttering ostrich feathers. His entire body tensed as the gentle, teasing touch sent waves of intense sensation coursing through him.

Ms. R. giggled, watching Zack’s reactions to her ticklish dusting. She found it amusing how Zack couldn’t decide whether to moan or laugh. It tickled but felt so pleasurable. Ms. R. found another opportunity to tease her sweet little tickle victim. “You know this duster is so big and unnecessarily fluffy. It’s so impractical for cleaning shelves and whatnot.” she analyzed. “I think it was made exactly for this, darling. To tease… To pleasure… To tickle…”

And tickle it did.

Zack couldn’t help but squirm in his binds as his entire lower body radiated with intense, pleasurable, ticklish tingles. Zack couldn’t see them, but his privates were somewhere in there–in the storm of fluttering ticklish feathers. All he knew was that they were being subjected to a thorough, intense, ticklish dusting.

Zack’s moans were punctuated by intermittent giggles, his body writhing with every brush of the feather duster against his sensitive crotch. The sensations were a potent blend of ticklish and arousing, causing him to squirm helplessly. He was nearing a second ticklegasm each second–every swipe of the feather duster made his cock quiver and pulsate.

Ms. R.’s voice was a soothing murmur as she continued to tease him. “There you go… tickle, tickle…” she cooed, her tone soft, barely above a whisper. The feathers fluttered over Zack’s sensitive skin, amplifying his moans and giggles. She maintained a steady, rhythmic motion, ensuring that every inch of his genitals was covered in the gentle, maddening touch of the duster. The duster was so big that its feathers even reached to tickle his inner thighs quite a bit.

“Cum for me…” Ms. R. urged, her voice a sultry whisper. “The duster, the feathers, the tickling… It feels so good…” She continued to gently stroke Zack with the feather duster, her words dripping with seductive encouragement. “Let go, darling… Let it tickle… Let the pleasure overwhelm you…”

Zack's body tensed, his breath hitching as he felt the overwhelming climax approach. His eyes rolled back, and with a shuddering release, he let go, the intense sensations of the duster and feathers pushing him over the edge.

Seeing this, Ms. R. quickly uncovered his cock from the feather ocean and quickly grabbed it, holding it in a firm grip. She pumped it up and down, helping Zack shoot loads of cum. She didn’t stop tickling, however. Her dusting focused on his testicles and taint, as she gave him mid-orgasm handjob.

Ms. R. continued to softly tease and coax, her voice a gentle, coaxing murmur. “That’s it, darling… Just like that… Tickle, tickle…” Her words were like a comforting caress, guiding Zack through the intense sensations and helping him to ride out the waves of his release.

Zack’s yell echoed through the room, a raw, primal sound that mixed with his intense release. His body convulsed as he experienced the full force of his climax, the feather duster's soft touch making the moment all the more intense.

Zack’s breath came in loud, ragged pants as he finished, his chest heaving with each breath. The intensity of the experience left him feeling both drained and exhilarated. His body trembled slightly, and the aftershocks of pleasure made his muscles quiver. He could feel the heat lingering in his cheeks and the sweat that had collected on his forehead.

Ms. R. strolled over to the stocks and carefully released Zack’s feet, her movements slow and gentle. She then moved to unfasten the straps securing his arms, her touch reassuring. As she freed him from the restraints, she offered a soft, satisfied smile, clearly pleased with the session and Zack's response.

“You did well, darling,” Ms. R. said softly, her voice filled with approval. She gently brushed a strand of hair from Zack’s face, her touch tender. “You were wonderful. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

“That was… intense…” Zack managed to say, his voice still slightly shaky. He looked at Ms. R. with a mixture of exhaustion and relief, trying to process the whirlwind of sensations and emotions he had just experienced.”

“I know,” she said softly, caressing his cheek. “But aren’t you glad I helped you face your fantasy?” Her gaze was warm and reassuring, offering a comforting presence after the intense experience.

“Yes…” he answered.

Ms. R. offered with a warm, inviting smile, "Would you like some aftercare in my furs? It might be a comforting way to wind down after everything." She gestured to the luxurious fur garments draped nearby, her tone soothing and considerate. “You find my furs arousing too, do you not?”

Zack nodded.

Ms. R. helped Zack to his feet, guiding him gently toward the plush fur bed in her stall. The surface was filled with luxurious fur, offering an inviting and comforting space. She discarded her finn raccoon coat, opting for her new ensemble—a massive golden island fox coat that shimmered with an elegant sheen. Over it, she draped a long fur stole made of the same sumptuous material.

With a playful push, she gently guided Zack onto the fur bed, letting him sink into the soft, opulent furs. She then settled beside him, enveloping him in the rich, soft fur, her touch soothing and affectionate as she helped him unwind from the intense experience.

As she carefully wrapped him in the furs, she continued to speak in a soothing tone. “There you go, darling. Just relax and let the softness of the furs soothe you. You did wonderfully, and now you deserve to be pampered. Take your time to unwind.”

Ms. R. reached over for a nearby double-sided silver fox wrap, its luxurious texture shimmering in the light. She handed it to Zack with a gentle smile. “Here, darling. Wrap yourself in this exquisite fur. Feel its incredible softness against your skin. Let it envelop you completely and caress you with its gentle touch.”

Zack took the silver fox wrap and wrapped it around himself, burying his face and body in its luxurious softness. He rubbed the fur all over, letting the silky texture glide over his skin. The warmth and comfort of the wrap provided a soothing contrast to the intense tickling he had just experienced.

Ms. R. purred softly as she scooted closer to Zack, her presence warm and intimate. She gently stroked the luxurious fur around him, her fingers gliding over the silver fox wrap. “You look so relaxed and content,” she said, her tone filled with warmth. Leaning right next to his ear, she grabbed the end of her fur stole and brushed it delicately against his jaw. Her breath was hot against his ear as she whispered, “Tell me… How does the fur feel?”

Zack let out a sigh of pleasure, his voice soft and relaxed. “It feels amazing… so soft and warm. It’s like being wrapped in a cloud. I’ve never felt anything like this before.” He snuggled closer into the fur, his body responding to the comforting embrace. The stole teasing his face gave him shivers, its fur gently tickling his jawline.

Ms. R. smiled warmly, pleased by Zack’s reaction. She continued to caress the fur around him, her touch gentle and reassuring. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying it,” she murmured. “The fur has a way of comforting and indulging all the senses, doesn’t it? Just relax and let it all sink in.”

Zack was enveloped in the plush warmth of the fur, every movement causing the luxurious fabric to shift and brush against his skin. The layers of fur on the bed felt like a soft, comforting embrace, cocooning him in a world of sensory delight. Each subtle movement stirred the fur, creating a soothing rustle that added to the overall sensation of being wrapped in comfort.

Zack let out a soft chuckle. “The fur kinda tickles…” he noted, his voice a mix of amusement and contentment. As he spoke, he continued to rub the silver fox wrap against his skin, his hands gliding over the plush surface. The sensation of the fur brushing against his body sent delightful shivers through him.

Ms. R. smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling with a mix of satisfaction and amusement. “It does, doesn’t it?” she said softly. “Fur has a way of both comforting and teasing the senses. It’s one of the reasons I love it so much.”

She leaned closer, brushing her fingers lightly along the fur on Zack. “Does it make you feel more relaxed, or does it add a bit of excitement?” she asked, her voice warm and inviting. “Does the fur arouse you? Does the softness and the warmth excite you?”

He nodded.

“Feel the fur, darling… Sink into it… Let it take over… I want you to feel every single hair brushing you, gliding on your skin, teasing you… I want you to feel the tickle of it, darling… Embrace the tickle…” Ms. R. urged, blowing into his ear.

Zack’s body responded instinctively to Ms. R.’s words and touch. He let out a soft, contented sigh as he felt the fur gliding across his skin, each movement amplifying the sensations. “I’m really feeling it,” he said softly, his voice filled with a mix of relaxation and excitement. “The fur… it’s so soft and warm, but the way it tickles is just… amazing.”

He buried himself deeper into the fur, allowing it to surround him completely. “I can feel every single hair… It’s like a gentle caress that keeps teasing and comforting me at the same time. It’s exactly what I needed.”

Ms. R. noticed Zack’s growing arousal as he lay in the sea of fur, and she let out a soft, knowing chuckle. “It seems the fur is having quite an effect on you,” she murmured, her tone playful yet soothing. “It’s not surprising, really. The way it tickles and teases, it’s only natural to feel this way.” She continued to stroke the fur around him, her touch light and reassuring. “Just let yourself enjoy the moment, darling. There’s no rush, no pressure. Just you and the fur, allowing yourself to fully experience the pleasure and relaxation.”

“C-c-c-could you?” Zack stammered.

“Could I what, darling?” she asked, her tone soothing and encouraging. “Tell me what you need. I’m here to make sure you’re comfortable and content.”

“T-t-the stole… Could you?” he added, his request still incoherent.

“The stole? This is golden island fox fur. It’s so soft… and it’s double sided.” Ms. R. purred as she stroked the stole up and down. “What about the stole, darling?”

Zack’s voice trembled with a mix of anticipation and shyness. “Could you… could you use the stole on me? You know…” he finally managed to articulate, his cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

Ms. R. understood Zack’s request and with a knowing smile, she gracefully rose up and straddled him. The golden island fox stole was draped over her shoulders, its luxurious tails brushing against Zack’s skin as she positioned herself carefully.

She leaned forward, her breath warm against Zack’s ear. “Do you want the ultimate fur tickle?” she asked, her voice a sultry whisper. Her hands continued their gentle caress, the golden island fox stole grazing tantalizingly over his skin as she moved.

“Please…”

Ms. R. backed up and positioned herself between Zack’s legs, her movements seductive and graceful. As she settled into place, she ensured that her body was close enough to provide a continuous, teasing contact. With a soft, teasing smile, she reached for the golden island fox stole around her shoulders and removed it. She gave it a teasing stroke before grabbing its end and brushing it up Zack’s taint, between his balls and along the shaft.

Zack's body tensed and shivered as the luxurious fur of the stole made contact with his sensitive skin. The softness of the golden island fox fur glided smoothly over his taint, brushing along the sensitive area between his balls and up the shaft. The gentle, teasing strokes of the fur felt exquisitely stimulating, causing his breath to catch and his hips to involuntarily twitch.

He felt Ms. R. wrapping the impossibly soft stole around his cock. The fur enveloped him in a cocoon of arousing softness, each movement of the stole against his sensitive skin sending waves of pleasure through his body. Every single fur follicle worked their magic on his sensitive flesh, teasing him in the most hellishly pleasurable way. Then…

Pump…

Ms. R.'s stole began its caress, wrapping around Zack's cock with a rhythmic, pleasurable motion. As she began to pump the stole up and down, the soft fur created a friction that was both incredibly arousing and soothing. Each stroke was accompanied by the whisper of the fur against his skin, amplifying his pleasure with every movement.

Zack moaned loudly, feeling the fur stole brushing up and down his throbbing manhood. The way it brushed… The way it tickled… The way it pleased… It created an almost overwhelming sensation of pleasure that left Zack feeling like he was floating in a state of pure, blissful ecstasy. He was in Heaven.

Ms. R. giggled softly, her voice a mix of satisfaction and amusement. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this, darling,” she purred, her tone dripping with playful satisfaction. “The stole feels just as amazing as you imagined, doesn’t it?” She continued to move the fur with a gentle rhythm, ensuring that each stroke provided the maximum pleasure and teasing.

Zack nodded vigorously, his eyes rolling back as waves of intense furry pleasure surged through him. Each touch of the fur stole sent shivers down his spine, the sensation almost overwhelming. He was lost in the sensation, completely consumed by the exquisite combination of softness and stimulation.

Ms. R. asked with a playful lilt, her voice soft and teasing. “Does it tickle, darling?” She continued to stroke the fur stole over Zack’s sensitive skin, her touch both teasing and comforting.

Nod.

Ms. R. maintained her teasing touch, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Does it feel as good as you hoped it would?” she asked, her voice dripping with seduction. “Are you enjoying every moment of this?”

Nod.

“Let it carry you away… the sensation… the pleasure… Let go totally, darling. Nothing else exists for you, except the heavenly, soft, ticklish, lovely, pleasurable fur stole on your cock.” Ms. R. urged, slowing her furjob down slightly. “Your entire existence is fur… fur… fur… You’re covered by it: its softness, its warmth, its touch… There’s nothing else–only soft pleasure.”

As Ms. R. continued her teasing, her strokes becoming more calculated and pleasing, Zack felt the pressure building intensely within him for the third time. The soft, tantalizing brush of the fur stole against his sensitive skin pushed him toward the edge. He could hardly contain the overwhelming sensations, his body trembling with the anticipation of his impending climax.

Ms. R. leaned closer, her voice a sultry purr as she continued her teasing pumps. “You’re so close, darling,” she purred, her breath warm against his skin. “I can feel how much you’re enjoying this. Just let go. Embrace it. Let the fur and the pleasure take over completely. Cum for me… Cum for your fur goddess…”

Zack’s body convulsed with pleasure as he let go for the third time that evening, his orgasm intense and overwhelming. Hot streams of cum erupted from his throbbing cock as Ms. R. delivered the final stroke of her soft, luxurious golden island fox fur stole. She smiled with satisfaction, watching him surrender completely to the blissful sensations she had so expertly created.

Zack twisted and squirmed beneath the immense layers of fur that draped over his body. The overwhelming softness brushing against his sensitive skin sent shivers through him, even after his release. Every movement made the furs caress him further, heightening his sensitivity as he tried to regain control over his trembling body.

As Zack lay there, utterly spent from the powerful furgasm, his body was still enveloped by the luxurious furs, their softness a gentle contrast to the intense sensations that had just coursed through him. His breathing was heavy, each inhale bringing with it the familiar warmth of the fur surrounding him. His body tingled with the lingering aftermath of pleasure, the softness of the fur still teasing his skin.

Ms. R. moved back over to straddle Zack and gently stroked his cheek, her touch tender. “You did so well, darling,” she whispered, her voice soothing. She moved a bunch of fur that covered Zack’s torso aside, letting him breathe.

“Thank you,” Zack murmured, his voice still heavy with exhaustion and contentment. “That was… incredible.”

Ms. R. smiled warmly, continuing to caress Zack's cheek. “You did so well, darling. I’m glad you enjoyed every moment.” As she spoke, her fingers trailed softly down his sides, brushing lightly against his ribs.

Her touch became more mischievous as she squinted her eyes and moved her hands towards his armpits, her fingers wiggling playfully. “But you know,” she said with a teasing grin, “there’s still a little bit of ticklish fun left to be had.”

She began to scribble her nails in his vulnerable armpits once again, making Zack’s ticklish laughter fill the hall once again.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

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