psilocybae
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Hollyberry had to admit -- it was nice seeing Mystic Flour like this. Face red from the drinks they’d shared over dinner -- now forgotten, the dining table pushed back so slightly to give the two of them some room -- her usual serene expression agitated into something more like need -- her lips parted slightly as she hovered over Hollyberry’s lap, thighs trembling ever so slightly from the effort it took to hold herself there.