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#potion au
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Person A is a bounty hunter who gets tasked with going after Person B, a god who’s only kind to children, so Person A takes a potion to appear as a child and get close to Person B and trap them, but keeps getting thwarted by the oblivious but super overprotective and loving towards children Person B.
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auideas · 2 years
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So, I found you a while ago and thought you guys would never resurface
But I was proven wrong
So I got this story I'm trying to write, yeah? Fantasy magical dystopian, got any ideas you could shoot my way?
Hey, we live to defy expectations! We'd be more than happy to help.
Fantasy magical dystopian prompts is incredibly specific, but AMAZING. Let's get it started:
No one knows why some people lived while others died when the apocalypse came; they suddenly vanished, almost before their very eyes. With 95% of the population gone, the remaining survivors simply attempted to keep living and moving forward. Small communities were built in the ruin of their old world, later to be called “villages.” After some months of establishing the new world order, strange happenings began to take place: weird weather, objects moving on their own, and other such oddities. It’s only on that day when Character A looked up from their dry garden to the heavens, raised an arm, and pulled down with the intent of a god did rain fall from a cloudless sky. Seemingly impossible, the remaining survivors of the human race may have not been human at all, but something more.
The world was perfect. The complicated and seemingly impossible concept of utopia had been achieved. Waste had been reduced to near nothing, energy was renewable, the economy was saved from collapse -- the human race was thriving for the first time in centuries. As it always seems with perfect things, it was too good to be true. This new world isn’t without a massive, dark flaw: to create this utopia, influential humans have enslaved those with the gift of magic, using them to achieve their nefarious means. The concept of “utopia” had been completely bastardized for their own gain. Humans...they never change.
When you live in a dystopia, you learn to use what you can find. Scavenging wasn’t just a side gig now, but a way of life, and this wasn’t more true than for magical botanists and potion-makers. Because they lacked access to their previous supply chains (damn them for shutting down the internet and its associated conveniences), they had to find other creative ways to source materials. Defunct fabric stores, joke shops, herbalists in Chinatown -- you name it, they’d scavenged it. All seemed well and good until some of their spells had, well, unexpected effects due to poor quality substitutions.
History repeats itself, and the world heals in cycles...at least, that’s what they all said when the climate took a turn for the worse. Everything was thrown out of whack in a mere 20 years, and few people could discover the truth of what seemed to be happening. The new world felt almost apocalyptic, but it turns out the world wasn’t ending, but merging. Two planes of existence were slowing melding together: one our own and the other...horrendously fantastic. No one believed the ravings of Character A until the first dragon ripped the sky open and rained fire down from the heavens.
Being a part of a coven after the world all but ended was difficult enough, but having that life be all someone knows makes it just that much harder when they have to leave it. As a part of a coming of age ceremony, Characters A, B, and C are sent on a quest across the country to source materials from the old world: The Munich Manual. However, they were refused reasoning as to why the elders needed the ancient script, citing it as “none of their business” and that they “weren’t old enough to know the truth.” Well, Characters A, B, and C are officially adults now, right? Who’s to say they can’t just open the manual find out for themselves?
The “wall of fish” trending on TikTok some time ago seemed like it was too strange to be true; so many people ignored it and simply kept it in their back pocket as a fun fact to bring up at parties. After all, what’s a better ice breaker than “you heard about those floor fish??” No one expected anything to come of it, simply writing it off as another secret the sea kept hidden. It wasn’t until this wall of fish completely disappeared did anyone take notice, because what it left behind was ten times worse. In this world, sea creatures are connected by a hive mind, and this in combination with morphic fields allowed the creatures to simultaneously alter their body chemistry and release a strong, deadly acid that poisoned almost every water source on Earth, eating the land and leaving little behind. Within five years, the only humans remaining on planet earth are the mountain tribes, sustained through the magical manipulation of their own morphic fields.
Supplies are hard to come by when the world has gone to shit, and that couldn’t be any more true of the world without UPS. The sourcing of rare materials was left for only the most brave and capable. These requirements made Character A’s trips along the New Silk Road that much more bewildering, given their small stature. Perhaps it had to do with the materials they were carrying...it seemed like an awful lot of bottles filled with weird colors, bones, and insect wings for such a little thing.
Being a plain non-magical human in a group of tightly-knit survivors trying to live in the slums of a dystopian city isn’t exactly a cake walk, but if they thought Character A was also magical because they could somehow convince neighboring groups to accept impossibly unfair trades for their own gain, who was Character A to correct them on their mistake? After all, it’s not like Character A would willingly admit that they were just in debate club in high school, not a silver tongued sorcerer.
Not everyone is cut out for living in an apocalyptic situation. Jobs that fit your skills are hard to come by, especially for a mute academic (and a linguist at that). In an effort to pull their weight, Character A becomes an archivist and logs information as best they can from members of the community to document how the old world can inform the new. They decide to start with the elderly who speak a myriad of languages (most were ones Character A could also speak, thank god). As Character A records their stories and words, they fail to realize that what they’re recording aren’t just stories, but spells and incantations with the ability to release something much, much darker if spoken by the right person.
Everyone thought the creatures were destroying the world of their own accord. “It’s simply in their nature,” they’d say. “They can’t control themselves.” Well, that was a bit true in part: someone else was calling the shots, and they certainly didn’t have everyone’s best interest at heart. Who’s to say someone else can’t pull their strings, though?
These should give you a great start, but I’ll be honest in saying that I could have kept going forever! Maybe we’ll have more AUs along the same lines as these in the future~
- Admin M  x
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llondonfog · 8 months
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https://youtu.be/5qNk5RHJTJQ
This song made me think of the recent potions au ask, where Silver’s memories peak out despite his choice to forget them…
OHHHHH ANON, I ADORE THIS!!!!
i can totally see the vibe for that moment (i believe you're referring to this post), and of course this song gives me all the burdened royalty aesthetic that i need, especially relating to silver's circumstances. the entire song depicting silver's change into a person who his family can hardly approach, merely a puppet ruler for the lingering old guard of his decimated kingdom, the crumbling of his steadfast belief in his place among his family, the way that his entire world is now woven from lies that keep him trapped and cocooned far away from the knowledge that would only hurt him.... ahhhhh this is definitely going on my writing playlist
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daddiesdrarryy · 4 months
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Ron: What are you doing, Harry?
Harry: I’m trying to make Amortentia but I keep getting it wrong! I don’t know what I’m doing wrong but it keeps smelling like Malfoy
Ron: …what?
Harry: Yeah! Like hair gel, the kind he always uses. And his cologne, the new one, not the old one he used for the first three years in Hogwarts. And green apples, because it’s his favourite fruit. But it doesn’t matter! Because it’s wrong, it’s not supposed to smell like Malfoy, right?
Ron: Boy, do I have news for you, Harry
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kiisaes · 3 months
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kacchan, you have to drink this!
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the-travelling-witch · 10 months
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𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑
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summary: working in a coffee shop means you always meet a wide variety of personalities; but why, out of all options, did you have to go and take an interest in the mysterious guy with an attitude problem?
pairing: piercer! scara x gn barista! reader
warnings: uhh needles (obviously), cursing like once, reader has questionable nicknaming skills (they're worse than paimon's)
modern au series || genshin impact masterlist
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It was a typical Monday morning in the coffee shop you were working at, most customers seemingly dragging themselves in after rolling out of bed with the occasional energy ball as an exception. The aroma of roasted coffee beans filled your nose as you worked on several orders and people entered or left the store at a steady rate.
Once rush hour was pretty much over, the doorbell chimed again to reveal a guy with a dark and choppy bob cut you were sure not many people could pull off. The black clothes draped over his silhouette were deliberately torn at some places and a black mask covered the rest of his face except for striking indigo eyes and two gleaming dermal piercings peeking out from under the fabric on his right cheek. 
“Good morning, what would you like to order?” you greeted, the expected smile already on your lips.
Without so much as a greeting, he said in a monotone voice, “A large black coffee to go.”
Wow, quite the attitude but then again, it was Monday morning and you had seen worse. So, not thinking too much about it, you continued as normal. “May I ask for your name?”
“Huh?”
“To write on your cup, so we can call you when your order is ready to be picked up,” you patiently explained.
In a tone that suggested the guy was bored out of his mind, he merely drawled a “Just write whatever” and went back to scrolling on his phone.
It was a good thing you weren’t holding a cup yet or you might have crumbled it. So much for giving him the benefit of the doubt. Your eyes narrowed as your smile and voice took on an almost unnoticeable edge. “Sure thing,” you replied in a sweet tone before telling him his total. 
A few minutes passed after you gave the guy’s order to your coworker who sniggered as you handed them the receipt. While taking more orders, you were keenly aware of that indigo-eyed jerk’s presence lingering by one of the windows, back leaning against the wall and ringed fingers reflecting the morning sun. 
Setting a cup down on the counter, your coworker called out “A large black coffee to go for ‘Whatever’!” 
At the unusual call, a few other customers turned to see what was happening and the guy himself seemed taken aback for a short second before collecting himself. As he walked up to the counter, he threw you an unimpressed glare which you returned with an innocent shrug. 
Despite his grumpy attitude, the guy kept coming back for the next couple of weeks to the point where you could pinpoint the exact time he’d walk through that door, always ordering a large black coffee. He’d yet to give you his name, so when you went to prepare his coffee ahead of time, you continued to write ‘Whatever’ on it. 
It might have been your imagination, but you thought Bob-Cut seemed to mellow out more too as he kept coming back and you built somewhat of a routine. He’d actually use words like ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ which you didn’t think possible the first time you met him. And, much to your chagrin, you had to admit the nonchalant attitude paired with his style and accessories suited him really well and you sometimes had trouble tearing your gaze away from deep pools of lapis. Not that you’d ever make it known to his face though.
Slowly but surely, you started looking forward to seeing him everyday too. Remembering you’d get to see the mysterious - yet cute- guy walk in again made you positively giddy with excitement as you got ready in the morning. 
Yet this particular day your enthusiasm was stumped as the prepared cup of black coffee sat lonely behind the counter, waiting to be picked up. But he never came, no matter how often you expectantly looked up as the bell jingled. Your coworker patted you on the back encouragingly and you dragged yourself through your shift, a sunken feeling settling in your chest.
The next day, no coffee sat premade on the counter while you worked on orders. With your back turned to the door you almost didn’t notice it swing open. A gruff ‘Morning’ made your eyes light up before you composed yourself and turned to face the strongest resting bitch face ever.
“Good morning, what would you like to order?” You smiled, deciding to play coy although you already knew the answer.
And that was actually the look he gave you; eyes narrowed unimpressed and brow twitching upwards. “Seriously, I don’t come in for a day and you've already forgotten me. That’s a bit harsh, no?”
“Well you never know,” you shrugged playfully. “Maybe you had a change of heart as your coffee was all alone yesterday.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” he mumbled, averting his eyes. He had nothing to apologise for in your opinion but it was cute anyway. “A client cancelled their appointment on short notice and my coworkers had all the other clients handled, so I didn’t come to the studio in the morning.”
The guy must’ve caught on to the curiosity visible on your face because he followed it up with “I’m a piercer and tattoo artist.”
“Oh wow, really?” you said, remembering your own plans to get a new piercing somewhen soon. Since your last piercer had closed their shop, you had kind of pushed that thought to the back of your mind though. Suddenly you were very much aware again of the ink peeking over the neck of his shirt and the piercings gleaming in the shop light “Where do you work?”
“In the studio down the road. If you don’t believe me, you should drop by,” he challenged defensively, although you didn’t doubt him at all. Realising what he just said, his eyes widened in the first big show of emotion you’d seen from him and you thought you could see a faint rosy tint where his mask ended. “No, I mean– Forget I said anything!”
For the rest of the interaction, the guy kept his head down, bangs obscuring his eyes which never quite met yours. It was cute seeing someone who acted so aloof usually be all shy and bashful and you tugged the info about his workplace away for later. To be precise, for the coming weekend. 
On your day off, you found yourself in front of the glass door of a tattoo shop. The pleasant scent of flowers from the shop next to it filled the air as you took a deep breath before you pulled the handle towards you. You chastised yourself for being giddy and letting your hopes get the better of you; for all you know, he might not even work today. Or what if he really didn’t want you here?
Your nerves were forgotten when you entered the studio. Along the walls of the modern entrance area hung a variety of different sketches, distinct both in style and motif. From fine-line flowers to precise geometrics to calligraphy and Japanese style tattoos, you wondered just how many coworkers Bob-Cut had and which sketches were his as you studied the signatures.
“Hi there, how can I help you?” You spun around to face an auburn haired man who had appeared behind the counter, his olive eyes twinkling at your reaction. 
“Oh uhm, I wanted to get a new piercing. That’s fine without a scheduled appointment, right?” 
“Sure, thing. Just fill out these documents here and tell me what piercing you want and I’ll hook you up with someone who’s not working right now,” he smiled brightly, yet you had the strange sense that mischief was bubbling just underneath the surface.
“Actually,” you couldn’t believe you were about to say this out loud, “is there a piercer working here with an indigo bob cut and two piercings on his cheek?”
“Oh?” And there it was, that teasing lilt in his voice which raised the hairs in the back of your neck. “Yo, ‘mouchie, there’s a cutie here to see you!”
A mere few seconds after his shout reverberated down the short hallway behind the desk, steps could be heard as a familiar raspy voice answered. “If you call me that again, I’ll fucking ki– What are YOU doing here?!”
“Oh, so you really do know each other,” Olive-Eyes snickered.
Deciding to ignore him, you tilted your head at the accusatory finger still pointed in your direction. “You invited me, remember?”
“I told you to forget it!”
“Well, too bad you’re not my boss and I can do what I want,” you snipped. “Besides, I wanted a new piercing anyway, so I decided to come here. Where’s the problem with that?”
The sound of your bickering lured in two more onlookers, a guy with dark blue hair tied into two braids to frame his face and one guy with his teal hair tied into a messy ponytail, who was staring down at his phone as if it was way more interesting than his colleagues. 
“What am I hearing? Scara inviting someone over?” The braid-guy sing songed. He mimicked wiping a tear from his eye dramatically. “That I can still witness the day… They grow up so fast.”
“Go to hell, all of you,” ‘Scara’ seethed.
“Alright, see you there.” Teal-Bangs didn’t even look up from his phone, the quip rolling off his tongue as naturally as breathing.
“Wow, even Xiao is bullying you now,” Olive-Eyes chimed in.
Dual-Braids laughed, slinging an arm around Bob-Cut’s shoulders and you feared he might bite it off given the glare he was sending his coworker. “You should really stop hitting him with the newspaper, you know?”
“Uh, guys…?” you interjected before they could start squabbling again. “About that piercing…?”
“Oh right!” The auburn-haired man took the documents from you and gave you a wide smile. “As I said, a piercer who’s free will take care of that aaaaaand would you look at that! Scara happens to be free, so he’ll have the honour of giving you a cool new accessory!”
“Hey, I-” Your coffee shop acquaintance tried to protest but Heizou was already ushering you in his direction.
“Now, go have fun, you two,” he teased. “But not too much, okay? 
That was how you found yourself standing in a neat piercing room, bright white light illuminating the equipment stashed there. There was a sigh behind you and ‘Scara’ crossed the room. 
“They’re such nuisances,” he mumbled before he fixed his indigo eyes on you. Without his black mask on, you could see that besides the two dermal piercings on his right cheek he also had a nostril on the left side of his nose. As he spoke up again, a silver ball sitting on his tongue reflected the crisp light. “You’re okay with that? I mean, me being your piercer and all. Heizou didn’t give you much of a choice but just know that you can back out if you’re uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s fine by me, if you’re okay with it too,” you sincerely replied. “I mean you were pressured into it just as much.”
“I’m used to their antics though.” After a brief moment of gazing at each other, he cleared his throat and gestured for you to take a seat. “So, what kind of piercing do you want?”
You watched him pull on a pair of black latex gloves and only when he looked back at you did the question register in your brain. “A helix, here,” you said, pointing at your ear.
“Sure thing.” Rolling closer on a chair, he marked the spot you indicated and handed you a mirror. “Like that?”
When you gave your approval, he went back to the desk to prepare the necessary equipment and sterilised it. The silence prompted you to ask the question that has been burning on your tongue for a while now. “So your name is Scara?”
“Scaramouche is my artist name, I’m going by that,” he replied. “But Scara is fine.”
You didn’t have much time to wonder about the implications of using an artist name because a moment later, Scara appeared in front of you again. Needle in hand, his eyes came level with yours again. Up close, you could make out all the tiny specks of amethyst caught in the light and his scent invaded your senses.
“You ready?” he asked quietly, his low voice preserving the delicate atmosphere your proximity created. When you nodded, he gave you a small smirk, demeanour entirely changed from how you’d gotten to know him. “Alright, this is going to hurt a little but the pain will be brief. I need you to hold still through it, can you do that for me?”
Not trusting your voice, you nodded again as you swallowed. Latex met the side of your jaw in a ghost of a touch as Scara gently tilted your head the way he needed it. All nerve endings in your skin lit up as liquid fire spread from the tips of his fingers through your veins, the strange intimacy getting to you more than you could have prepared for.
You felt the Scara’s exhale brush your cheek as he positioned the needle and your warbled thoughts caught up with the situation the moment he pushed it through. But only when the jewellery followed did you flinch.
“There we go, the worst part is done,” he soothed. Giving the mirror back to you, he left you to admire his work as he got up. The calm call of your name pulled you from your own reflection as Scara held out a glass of water to you.
“Thanks,” you smiled before pausing. “Wait, did I even tell you my name?”
“Read it on your file,” he replied nonchalantly as you gave him an unimpressed glance.
“I’m sure that falls under poor etiquette,” you playfully chastised him.
“So? The outcome is the same, isn’t it?” he shrugged, yet you couldn’t help but find it endearing. “You good to go? C’mon, I’ll show you the way out.”
As you wrapped up the payment and Scara went over all the mandatory steps in taking care of your new piercing, you were well aware of the doors opening and the people peeping into your conversation. So much for privacy.
“Well then, that’s that.” The metal of his tongue piercing held your attention until Scara brushed some of his hair behind his ear, revealing a few piercings of his own. Among them was a helix which mirrored yours in placement. “Get home safe, yeah?”
“I will, thanks.” Your smile was filled with genuine gratitude. As you pushed through the glass door, you turned back to wave. “See you tomorrow!”
Maybe it was your imagination but as you left you thought there was an actual smile gracing his sharp features.
The next day, your spirits were high as they could be. Not only were you excited to show off your new accessory, you’d also been on cloud nine since leaving the piercing studio, butterflies stirring in your stomach every time you thought back to how he touched you. Perhaps what you were about to do was a little bold but you’d be damned if you didn’t shoot your shot.
As expected, Scara came in at the same time as every morning and you’d just finished brewing his coffee. He too seemed to be in a better mood than usual as he walked up to the counter. While you typed in his order, you made a bit of small talk over how your piercing was healing.
“It’s all good,” you laughed and showed the jewellery to him. “Almost like my piercer knew what he was doing.”
“You better believe that,” he countered. However, you didn’t miss the way his eyes seemingly lit up and crinkled at the edges, as they did when he smirked, when his gaze fell onto the piercing he put on you. His reaction gave you a boost of confidence for what you were about to do.
Handing him his cup, you wished him a great day and watched as he went to leave before stopping dead in his tracks. No doubt he discovered the little ‘If you ever feel like going for a coffee while I’m not working ♡ (and don’t whatever me!)’ you had scribbled onto the cup holder, followed by your phone number. You gave him a wink when he searched your eyes and watched him pull out his phone. A few seconds later your phone pinged.
Unknown number: whatever Unknown number: are you free this week?
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© the-travelling-witch 2023 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit
if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡
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ceruleancattail · 5 months
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A Drabble on discord that got out of control. Oops-
Negotiations
Nightfall Leona x diplomat reader
You’ve been sent to situations less tense then this.
It’s ironic, as someone who’s worked with the government before. Intertwining your fingers, your nails dug deep into the flesh of your palm. A deterrent from trembling. Shaking. A flaw in your composure.
You know. The moment they even smell a hint of weakness from you, the slightest bit of fear, and it’s over. They’ll surround you like a pack of scavengers, tearing into you like you’re their last meal.
”It’ll be an easy job! Just talk to them. It’s what you’re trained to do, after all!”
You could still hear the laughter from your boss echoing in your ears. The vague assurances of backup. The way his hand slammed against your back casually, telling you that you would be fine. There was nothing to fear, really.
Yet amid the cloying, choking stench of cigarette smoke and the mournful moans of the ocean’s waves, you’ve never felt more afraid.
Sighing, you lean against one of the harbour’s posts. Glancing around warily, gaze flickering from one end to the other. Waiting for some cars to roll up, or a suited figure to approach. Any signs of them. The Savanaclaw clan, known for their brutality. Crime scenes involving their members were known to be incredibly gory. Spilled guts torn out of their victims’s gut, blood splattered across the walls…
A living nightmare.
A click has your back snapping upright, tense. You would know that click anywhere, even in your sleep. That was the sound of the safety being clicked off a gun. A god damned gun.
The cool metal of the gun’s nuzzle jabbed into your spine. A silent threat. Move one step, and you’ll have lead blasted right through your body.
“This is a easy job!” Crowley said.
Cursing under your breath, you vowed to pluck that crow bald the next time you see him. If you even see him again.
The gun jutted into the curve of your spine, inciting a dull throbbing pain blaring through your skin. Slowly, you raised your hands. A symbol of surrender, meant to pacify.
“I mean no harm.”
You said, forcing your words to sound somewhat calm. Despite your sweaty palms. Despite the rapid pace of your heart, trashing against its cage of bone. Despite the mind-numbing all consuming fear gnawing at the back of your mind right now.
A deep drawl spoke from behind, voice the rich consistency of finely aged wine. It slipped into your ears smoothly, almost like a seductress’ sultry purr.
“‘Course you don’t. Lil’ herbivore coming here all alone…”
A weight pressed against your chest. A hand, fingers rough with callouses. Patting you down. His touch doesn’t linger any longer then necessary, at least. You’re thankful for that.
“Unarmed, at that.”
His hand rests on your waist, before he tightens his grip. Twisting you around with the mere strength of his one arm, forcing you to look at him.
Eyes of emerald, marred by a scar running jagged through one. Like a bolt of lightning, slicing through his skin. Carmel locks of hair fall from his shoulders, braided on one end. The mane of a lion. The leader, of a pack.
There was just something about his gaze that made you want to bow. You resisted the urge, opting instead to draw your lips back, a thin line.
“You’ll think by now that bird would learn to take better care of his things.” A finger slides down the curve of your chin, tilting your head up firmly.
“I am an envoy of the Night Raven Fraction.” You growled, unable to keep the malice out of your voice.
“Unhand me.”
“Tch, feisty little thing, aren’t you? Can’t say you don’t have spunk.
Why don’t you come to my side instead? Might be better then working with an idiot who doesn’t even arm their diplomat before wandering right into the lion’s den.”
You blinked, surprised. All of the ways you predicted this would go, recruitment wasn’t one of them.
“And if I refuse?”
A hearty chuckle, dripping with malice. Those emerald eyes narrow at you, gleaming with a cruel amusement of a cat with its new toy.
“Did I ever say I was asking?”
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Day 3 of Medival Artober "Alchemy"
Moon took to learning alchemy from Y/N since they started living together, mostly just hovering over their shoulder and asking as many questions as possible. First it was just another way of staying close to Y/N but he really starts to like alchemy after some time.
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undercoveravenger · 6 months
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Intoxication
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Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Male!Reader
Requested: Yes
Request: “love potion mix-up with Billy Hargrove??”
A/N: Happy Spooky Month everyone! Here's the first post for the 2023 Spooky Month event - the next post will be dropping on Tuesday, October 10th. Hope you enjoy!
-----
Things had been strange ever since the arrival of Billy Hargrove and his little sister, Max.
Well, things in Hawkins had been weird for a lot longer than that, especially since you and your best friend Steve had befriended the group of misfit kids that called themselves “the Party”. They’d introduced the two of you to a secret side of Hawkins, where magic and curses and strange creatures ran amok. One of the kids, a girl named Eleven, was able to control objects with her mind and see beyond what was there. Another, Will, was psychic and could connect to other planes of existence. Dustin had a way of knowing how things fit together before anyone else could even guess. Steve’s coworker from Scoops Ahoy, Robin, was a witch. And now, Max and her brother. Werewolves, if what Lucas had told you was to be believed.
But you really couldn’t bring yourself to care much about Billy Hargrove. Not when so much of his life seemed to be spent antagonizing your best friend and trying to disrupt your comfortable station within the school’s hierarchy, seemingly dead set on turning your life upside down. Even at stupid parties like this one, you could hear people chanting Billy’s name while he faced off against Steve in a match of beer pong somewhere deeper in the house while you try to coax the sticker-covered flask away from Robin in the kitchen.
“Robs, babe,” you murmur, sidling up beside her and leaning back against the kitchen island, “I think Vickie likes you already. I know it’s scary to risk rejection, but a love potion isn’t the solution here.”
Robin nods slowly to herself, but her fingers don’t loosen around the metal. “But what if I can’t do it?”
You cock your head, smiling as she meets your eyes. “But isn’t asking her and knowing better than using that and not knowing how she really feels?”
It takes a moment of consideration, but your friend nods, setting the flask on the chipped marble countertop. 
“It’s more of an enhancer than-” Robin starts and it’s clear that you’re about to get one of Robin’s infamous lectures on the science of magic when she is cut off by someone snatching the flask from its place in front of the two of you.
“Aww, so sweet of you to have my next drink ready for me,” Billy Hargrove leers at you, unscrewing the cap of the flask even as his usual infuriating smirk slips over his lips, pretty blue eyes fixed on yours in with that intense, holier-than-thou look he always had. Just because he was tall and handsome and had pretty eyes and hair that you kind of want to curl your fingers into and use to pull him closer to shut him up with a kiss, doesn’t mean he could do anything but irritate you by looking at you like he knew something he wasn’t willing to share.
Your heart lurches in your chest as he raises the flask, you know you have to at least try to stop him, especially since Robin seems so stunned you’re not entirely sure she could say anything at all.
“Probably don’t wanna drink that, Hargrove,” you say, reaching out just in time to catch his wrist. “Might end up with something worse than a hangover.”
Billy leans forward against the counter, using his other forearm to prop himself up, raising an eyebrow pointedly as he looks at your hand, holding tight around his wrist, before his eyes shift up to meet yours. “You threatenin’ me?”
A derisive snort escapes you, and you gesture subtly for Robin to make her escape. The last thing you’d want is for Billy to figure out she had anything to do with whatever happens if he’s stubborn enough to drink the potion and start targeting her once it wears off. She catches your hint and mumbles an excuse about finding Steve, disappearing quickly into the crowd. 
“Of course not,” you say, releasing him and holding your hands up placatingly. Sure, you didn’t really want to spend longer than necessary around Billy Hargrove, but you wanted to spend time with a pissed off Billy Hargrove even less. “Just think it probably wouldn’t be something you would like, so I was just hoping to get it back,” you reached for it as you spoke, leaning across the island yourself to try to make a grab for the flask. 
Billy snatches it away, taking a long gulp from the mouth of the flask, grinning at you all the while. He pulls a face, but doesn’t wince the way one might at the burn of alcohol, but you can see the moment the look in his eyes starts to shift and the realization hits you with all the weight of a semi-truck.
Billy Hargrove had just taken a love potion while looking right at you. Billy Hargrove was about to be convinced that you were the love of his life.
“Well,” you say, eyes flickering around to look anywhere but at Billy, “I should really be going.” You push back upright, swiftly turning to make your way out the back door of the house and starting off down the sidewalk in the direction of your own home before Billy could speak. You don’t make it far before you realize you’re being followed, the scuff of Billy’s worn leather boots giving him away as he trails behind you.
“You’re not as stealthy as you think you are,” you call back over your shoulder, pace remaining steady even as Billy speeds up to walk beside you.
“Wasn’t tryin’ to be,” he drawls, lips quirking up into something softer than his usual sneer. “Just walkin’.” 
You study him for a long moment. “Didn’t you drive to the party? Surprised you’d leave your precious Camaro behind.”
“I’ve been drinking,” he shrugs, clearly trying to appear nonchalant. “Drunk driving’s dangerous, y’know.” He’s quiet for a minute and you find yourself almost wondering what he’s thinking.
“You don’t have to walk me home if that’s what this is,” you say, shoving your hands in your pockets and focusing your eyes on the way the lights on the stoplight a few blocks down flicker. “Steve already made me promise to call him when I get home.”
Billy huffs and he almost seems to be pouting when you glance over at him. “Don’t see why you’re with that loser in the first place. ‘s not good enough for you anyway.”
His words shock you enough that your steps falter and you have to turn to face him to see if he’s joking or not. Billy looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him, steely blue eyes fixed firmly on you. 
You have to fumble for words for a minute, the first thing you’re able to force out being a weak protest. “Steve’s not a loser!” Then the rest of his words catch up to you, “And he’s just my best friend, anyways.”
Billy seems to brighten at that, a more genuine smile crossing his lips than you’d ever seen before. “So,” he says, moving toward you slowly. The dull orange glow of the streetlights makes his hair shine almost copper and his eyes flash that distinct werewolf silver as he stalks toward you, gently herding you backward until your back is pressed to the brick wall of some long-closed business and Billy’s in front of you, arms caging you in on either side. On any other day, you might’ve felt claustrophobic- trapped and threatened by someone determined to fuck up your life. But today- with that love drunk look in Billy's eyes and that fond grin on his face, you were hesitantly pleased with your position. "If you're not with Harrington," Billy starts, leaning just a bit closer, until you can almost feel the breath of his words against your lips, "Does that mean you're available to go out with me on Friday?"
Part of you is tempted to say yes- to give in to this sweet, intoxicating side of Billy and let this go as far as he wants to take it- but the rest of you knows that what's happening is wrong.
You press a hand to Billy’s chest, pushing him back enough to give yourself some breathing room. 
"I would, but this isn't real, Billy." You force yourself to say, "You drank a love potion tonight- this- you don't mean any of this."
Billy laughs then, full and unrestrained and the most genuine you've ever heard him be. "That shit doesn't work on werewolves. Metabolism’s too fast for it to really do much of anything," he says, grin unable to be helped even as his laughter subsides. "And even if it did, the stuff that your buddy whipped up just makes feelings that's already there easier to act on."
You blink, the pressure you'd been using to keep Billy at bay slacking as you think through what he'd said. If he hadn't been affected by Robin’s potion then- 
Billy nudges closer, slipping his arms around your middle and tucking his face against the side of your neck. "The reason I was always so shitty to Harrington is that I was jealous," he murmurs softly, and you can feel the way he grins just a little wider as you start to relax against him, "I wanted to have people look at me like they look at him. I wanted to have you look at me like I was him." 
You can’t help the way your hands come up to curl around him too, the way your fingers curl into his shirt, or the way you press just a bit closer to him. You can’t help the answering grin from carving its way across your cheeks at the thought of how pleased Billy seems to be at being the center of your attention, but you also can’t stop those few little questions from itching away inside your mind. 
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” The thought escapes you almost unbidden, before you can second-guess yourself, and you can’t help but keep talking. “Why didn’t you ask me out? Or- or just say hi? Something other than-” you gesture vaguely back in the direction of the party.
The tired sigh that escapes him makes it clear he knows you’re talking about his grudge against Steve and all the drama he’s stirred up for the two of you.
“It’s-” he has to pause and think over his words for a moment before he can continue. “My experience with love is… complicated. My mom died when I was little and my dad- he changed after that. Got mean. Angry.” He swallows hard, pulling away far enough to look at you, to really look at you. “He made it clear that he expected pretty specific behavior from me and anything that didn’t meet that wasn’t… good for me. Liking a guy- well, that was pretty far from what he’d expect.” His hands drop from your sides and he steps back a bit, arms crossing over his chest like he’s trying to distance himself from his thoughts. “So I was rude and sarcastic and I was mean to Harrington because at least that kept me in your peripheral.” He meets your eyes again, bright and open and honest in the orange glow of the streetlights, “But I don’t want to just be in your peripheral anymore.” 
With all of what he'd said playing through your mind, finding the right words is proving difficult. "If we’re gonna try this, you've gotta leave Steve alone," you start finally, heart squeezing with more fondness than you're ready to admit as you watch the realization of what you mean starts to sink in and a million-watt smile pulls at Billy’s lips. "And Robin and the kids, too.”
A giddy laugh escapes Billy and he takes your hand in his, tugging you back down the street in the direction the two of you had been walking. “That’s a deal I’d make a thousand times over,” he says, grinning brightly as he walked with you, fingers intertwined with yours, hands swinging easily between the two of you.
Conversation flows easily as the two of you walk and you’re more at peace with Billy now than you could ever remember being with any of your exes, he insists on walking you home no matter how many times you tell him he doesn’t need to. 
“Go out with me on Friday?” He says as the two of you stop at the foot of your driveway. “We could go for a picnic or to the drive-in if you want?”
When he’s looking at you like that, you can’t help but agree, quickly finding yourself more and more excited about your pending date. 
Billy kisses your hand before he lets go, stepping back as you turn away from him and head for your house. 
Billy smiles to himself as he watches you make your way up the driveway, keeping watch until you're safely inside, before turning and heading off in the direction of his own home. No, he knew he'd never have needed that love potion- not when it came to you. Billy Hargrove had been intoxicated by you since the first time he met you and he knows that isn't going to change any time soon.
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utbarista · 8 months
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(more old stuff from Twitter) Playfighting like ferocious kittens
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“Yeah, last time I tried to make that potion, mom banned me from using the family cauldron for a month.”
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auideas · 2 years
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Gleaning Mastery AU
It’s rare that Character A gets a break, but that’s exactly where they find themselves after quitting their job. Don’t worry, they had another one lined up, but the project itself wasn’t due to start for another couple months, meaning that Character A had a whole lot of nothing to do.
To fill their time and escape boredom, Character A looks online for free classes in anything and everything, from knitting, to video editing, to baking, to graphic design -- anything they had even a slight amount of interest in, they wanted to absorb as much knowledge as possible. Most of these weren’t live and involved watching pre-recorded lectures, but one of them was hosted on Zoom every Thursday at 3. 
Excited to interact with other passionate learners, Character A boots up their laptop and signs in for the class, but scrunches their eyebrows when they reread the pop-up: “Classes will be held at 3:00AM.” Crap, they’d already missed the first one. Bummed out but adamant about participating in this At-Home Apothecary class, they arrive exactly on time the next week, seeing others’ webcams on, cauldrons boiling, ingredients prepared, and...is that a real wand?
TL;DR -- Character A accidentally discovers and signs up for a free online class about at-home apothecaries, but to their surprise, the class involves real magic and this was a REAL potion making class. Can Character A hide their mortal identity until the class ends?
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strpw · 2 months
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Love me some magical gay men on a cute date 😍
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theellipelli · 2 years
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Benchtrio as witches (and a little baby titan Michael!!)
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helis97 · 10 months
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King is NOT taking any of Belos crap.
This is my Au were Belos mysteriously returns to the Boiling Isles years after his complete defeat. Offering a ritual to release the palismans he has consumed in exchange of asylum. And it’s just shenanigans from this point on.
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the-travelling-witch · 5 months
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𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
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summary: every artist knows, inspiration can be found anywhere; so why not in the sheets as well?
pairing: piercer & tattoo artist! scara (from my genshin modern au) x fem! reader
warnings: nsfw/ minors dni, somewhat mean! scara, name calling (slut), slight degradation mixed with praise, pet names (doll, pretty), mirror sex, oral (f! receiveing), unsafe sex (rings probably shouldn’t go there, take ‘em off before you get nasty), unprotected sex (just remember you could get pregnant and if the thoughts of children doesn’t scare you… then the thought of an std should), porn without plot (what’s plot), talk about piercings and tattoos, pierced/ tattooed! scara
this is a repost because i'm moving my nsfw works onto this blog!!
genshin impact masterlist || modern au masterlist
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You recalled stumbling into your boyfriend’s dark apartment, your feet catching the edges of various furniture as the two of you tugged on each other’s clothes, mouths not parting from each other on your way to the bedroom. It took all your strength to stay upright on wobbly knees, Scara’s tongue caressing your own and greedily swallowing all the noises that escaped you.
His iron grip on your waist and your arms slung around his neck kept you up as his tongue, pierced with a metal ball, grazed yours with every other motion, the difference in texture keeping you on your toes and making every kiss feel new and exciting.
The next moments were hazy but, soon thereafter, ringed hands travelled your body and slowly pulled your top off, exposing more and more skin to the indigo eyes studying every sliver of it. Lifting yourself from the mattress, you helped him get the article of clothing out of the way before sinking back into the soft pillows, stripped completely bare from the hips upwards, and Scara wasted no time getting to work.
Ever the artist, he dedicated the first few minutes to adding more reddish hues to the canvas that was your skin, already eager to run his fingers over the purplish bruises they’d leave around your shoulders and collarbones in the morning. You couldn’t help the shiver which overtook you as you felt him shift his weight lower on your body, his tongue travelling down your sternum, making goosebumps rise in the wake of the smooth metal on your heated skin.
Mischievous eyes drunk in how dishevelled you already looked, planning how to have you writhing in his sheets in no time. Before you could question the spark in his eyes, painted nails had already closed around one of your pebbled nipples, twisting the poor bud and pulling a surprised gasp from you which transitioned into a breathy moan as his lips wrapped around its twin. Watching for your reaction, he lightly pressed your nipple towards the roof of his mouth, rolling the sensitive skin between his lips and flicking his piercing against it.
“Ah-! Scara!” The sensation had you arching your back into his touch, your hands flying up to root your fingers in his midnight blue hair, as heat shot down to your core. You could feel his smirk against your body before he pulled off with a pop.
“Enjoying ourselves, are we?” He grinned, eyes darkened in the dimly lit room. Sitting up to straddle where your hips met your thighs, he pushed his flat palm down onto the valley of your breasts before slowly -teasingly- dragging it downwards, causing you to shiver at the temperature difference between his fingers and the rings littering them. “I wonder, is this all it takes to rile you up? I might as well check, right?”
After stopping his movements right at the waistband of your bottoms, he made a show of dipping his fingers under the material first before working them off completely with your help. When the garment landed in the pile forming on the floor next to the bed, he repositioned himself between your spread legs, calloused hands tantalisingly gliding up the plush of your thighs. A beat of silence passed in which you both drank in the sight of each other; you, undressed and with glazed over eyes spread out on his bed, and Scara, framed by the light highlighting the piercings on his cheek as he towered over your form.
“Let’s see then, shall we?” He whispered, not being able to resist the temptation of snapping the elastic of your underwear and making you jump at the slight sting. Trailing his fingers down at an excruciating, leisurely pace, his nails merely grazed the delicate skin around your core, just to hear you whine his name in frustration. Switching up his tune, he dragged the digit over the soaked material of your last remaining piece of clothing. An amused chuckle slipped past his lips, not hiding his glee even a little. “As I thought, you really are getting off on just this. When were you going to tell me I’m dating a little slut huh?”
“I’m not-” The sudden pressure on your clit combined with the mean nickname had you cutting yourself off with a high-pitched whine. Opening your eyes again, you found yourself staring up at your boyfriend’s expression curled into a smirk. “That’s not fair!”
“Oh but we both know you like it when I’m being unfair.” Leaning down next to your ear, you could feel his breath fanning its shell, his voice low as if he was sharing a secret. “You get off on being my little plaything, letting me do whatever I want with you. And the best part? You enjoy it. You enjoy it so much I can feel your thighs twitch just from talking to you like this, no doubt ruining those flimsy panties of yours even more when I haven’t even put my hands on you in earnest.”
The worst -or best– part was he was right and you were both well aware. Nothing wound you up faster than hearing the honey-dipped venom drip from his lips as he toyed with you and your release, cruelly denying it or giving you so much of it your senses were flooded with only him and the pleasure he brought upon you.
After continuing to dart his touch from one place to the other without ever staying in one place long enough to scratch that itch building in your core, he finally decided to show you some mercy and strip you completely bare. With all of you on display for him, Scara took the liberty of studying how your arousal shone in the bedroom light as your glistening cunt clenched around nothing from the anticipation.
“Stop staring and get on with it already!” Even to your own ears the plea sounded a little too desperate considering how little had happened thus far. And your boyfriend was quick to remind you, too.
“Listen to you, so eager to let me fuck you,” he laughed. “Fine, fine, guess I’ll give you what you want.”
That was all the warning you got before he thrust a finger inside to the last knuckle, embarrassingly little resistance stopping him. On the contrary, it was more as if your walls kept sucking him back in, clinging to skin and metal, when he pulled the digit back out. 
The difference in texture and temperature made for a combination that kept you on your toes, never quite able to anticipate how the next stroke would feel or which his jewellery would catch next. Adding a second finger, Scara distracted you from how he shifted his weight further down the bed and used one hand to push your legs further apart, slotting his shoulders between your thighs.
You squirmed in his hold as he lifted your legs over his shoulders, his mouth level with your core as he let his breath fan your slick-covered folds, which were still being abused by his cruel fingers. Tightening his hold on your thigh, he brought you closer to his kiss-swollen lips, only to stop when he was hovering right over your twitching clit. 
“Eyes on me, doll,” he breathed, mouth almost brushing against you with the ghost of a touch. When you looked down, piercing indigo eyes were already focused on you, half of your boyfriend’s face already obscured by your own body. Something about the intimacy of the position and the intensity of his attention on you made you heat up as you fought to hold the eye contact.
Satisfied, Scara lowered his mouth all the way down to close the small gap and now you were burning up. Feeling his lips close around your clit tore an obscene moan from you, especially when he flicked his tongue with the silver ball against it, much like he did earlier, with the sole intent of getting you to arch into his touch. Simultaneously, he curled his fingers upwards and curled them as if he beckoned you closer to him despite already enjoying the most intimate proximity, brushing the spot he knew you liked but purposely missing it, laughing at your whine.
When you were twisting and panting enough for his liking, clearly starting to unravel at the seams, he switched it up by increasing the pressure on the little bud and angling his fingers to hit that spot dead on. Tangling your fingers in his hair and the fabric of the sheets, you tried grounding yourself as your mind flew into overdrive and stars danced across your vision. It wasn’t the first time he’d eaten you out and that knowledge fuelled the fire in your belly, convinced he did it just as much for his pleasure as for yours. Something he proved with the groan escaping him as you clenched around the digits stroking your velvety walls. You couldn't help the involuntary jerk of your hips as you felt a sheen of sweat building all over.
“Hold still,” he mumbled, barely pulling far enough away to properly mouth the words. “I’m trying to work here.”
With that, he dove straight back in, tongue dragging over your clit, sucking it into his mouth as his fingers kept working you open. The sounds coming from between your legs were downright obscene, a lewd mixture of your obvious arousal and Scara’s enthusiastic movements, like it was the filthiest make-out session you’d ever seen (and heard). A certain degree of embarrassment climbed up your spine just to be drowned out by the pleasure of the prolonged stimulation you were experiencing. 
Subconsciously, you pulled on his roots, to which your boyfriend answered with a guttural groan sending vibrations right through you. With another high-pitched moan, your feet flexed against his back as your toes curled and your thighs clamped shut around his head, the metal of his nostril and dermal piercing cool against your heated skin. Desperate to snap the coil in your stomach, you swallowed the saliva pooling in your mouth and called out for your boyfriend, less to signal your building orgasm and more because it was the only thing you could think of.    
“I’m so close— Scara, please!” 
“Begging already? Go ahead, doll, and make a mess on my hand. I know you want to cum all over my fingers,” he purred against your burning up skin. His voice drifted off into a soft whisper, wafting through the fog of your orgasm to bring your attention back to the man between your legs. At this point you were barely coherent, only babbling moans intermixed with your boyfriend’s name.
“Keep saying my name, pretty,” he moaned against your folds. “Let me hear who’s making you cum like this.“
You complied with his request easy enough, not that you really needed the incentive. And then you let go, letting wave after wave of pleasure rush over you, giving in to the sensation spreading through your body. Meanwhile, Scara, who had slowly pulled his fingers out of you, was busy lapping up your release, guiding you back down from your high not letting a single drop go to waste. Only when he was sure there was nothing left did he carefully slip your legs from his shoulders, sitting up between them as your gaze remained stuck on him
And you were glad it did, because you didn’t want to miss the way Scara’s tongue flicked between his fingers to clean your essence off of them, his jewellery shinier than ever from your arousal clinging to it. The sight had you holding your breath rather than catching it. Cleaning his lips from the slick clinging to them, he leant down, so he could lean down and press a kiss to your temple. “That’s it, ‘did so well for me, pretty. How are you feeling? Doing good?”
“Mhm,” you replied, still a little drunk on the pleasure he just delivered to you. “Felt amazing.”
“Good,” he mused against your skin, unoccupied hands massaging your sore thighs, one of them smearing your release mixed with his spit onto the muscle. Pulling back to look into your eyes and check your reaction, he asked “Do you want to keep going?”
“Yeah, I want to,” you affirmed. Showing him a small smile and trailing your hand down his chest to the front of his pants, strained by a prominent bulge, you added, “Can’t make this all about me, can I? I want you to feel good too.”
“My, aren’t I lucky to have such a considerate partner?” While the statement came out sarcastic, you knew he actually meant it. If you had told him you were too exhausted to continue, you knew he would have respected that. But frankly, you needed him to fuck you stupid. “Or perhaps it’s less about me and you’re an insatiable little minx who wants to be stuffed even after already cumming? Well, not that I mind either way.” 
“A little bit of both maybe,” you chuckled, brushing some of his bangs out of his face. With some of your clarity returning to you, bantering came easy again. “I’d probably feel a lot more motivated if you lost some of your clothes as well.”
“So honest too,” your boyfriend laughed along, pressing another kiss to your forehead before granting your wish. Revealing his lean build and toned stomach by discarding his baggy shirt was always a sight to behold, especially with all the ink covering the skin and flexing alongside his muscles. But as much as you appreciated the view of your boyfriend shirtless, your heart leapt into your throat every time he undressed fully. You knew some of his friends made fun of Scara for his height but damn if they knew where all those inches went…
“Careful, you’re starting to drool,” he teased. Helping you up, he manoeuvred you to sit in his lap at the edge of the bed, your back pressed firmly against his chest. In this position you could clearly feel his hard dick against your backside, smearing precum along your skin and furthering his promise. “You know, if you wanted to get fucked dumb, you could’ve just said so. I’m more than happy to help you out.”
“Noted,” you said. But before you could add a quip of your own, you were cut off by your own strangled yelp when you felt him bite down at the base of your neck. Not hard enough to cause any serious irritation but enough to get your attention back on him.
“You know I love that smart mouth you have on you but right now all I want to hear you moan is my name and how good I’m filling you.” And with just this shift in his tone, you were already nodding along, clearly establishing who was holding the reins here. Lifting you by your hips, Scara aligned your pulsing core with the mushroom tip of his cock, groaning at the slick heat. “So pliant and obedient for me… Now be good and watch as you take me.”
For a second you were confused before your eyes met your own in the floor-length mirror across from you. The surprised arch of your brows only lasted for a second though before you felt Scara push the head past the muscles of your entrance, the initial sting eased by your previous release but still a delicious stretch. You shut your eyes and turned your head at witnessing the round ‘o’ shape your mouth parted into and, immediately, your boyfriend held you still, not allowing you to sink further down on his length.
“Didn’t I make myself clear?” He asked, one hand leaving your hips and grasping your jaw instead, angling your face to look forward again. “I told you to watch yourself. Don’t make me say it again. You wouldn’t want me to.”
Your weak ‘Y-Yes’ sounded pathetic even in your own ears but you craved nothing more than to stretch yourself further on his dick and you’d do whatever to get there. So you complied and cracked your eyes open again to take in the compromising position you were in, knees spread and hovering over your boyfriend's lap. 
“There you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He cooed right next to your ear, the low timbre of his voice grazing your ear as he rewarded you by inching you down his dick at an excruciatingly slow pace. As you stared into the mirror you had a first row ticket to seeing the coherent thoughts slip from your mind as Scara mouthed down your neck, pierced tongue flicking over particularly nasty marks he left. 
Despite all the previous preparations made, it was still a tight fit as you struggled to take all of him. So when you neared his base and your walls clamped down hard on him, one hand slid up to play with nipples some more as the other traced circles into your hip and provided something for you to hold on. Your second palm found the back of his head again as you arched your back and a string of moans intersected with curses spilt past your lips.
“You’re doing so well, almost there, pretty. See?” Pressing down on his length through your skin had you positively mewling from the stimulation as well as the image you saw in the mirror. Relief washed over you when you finally sank all the way down and could rest your strained thighs against his. As he pressed a fleeting kiss to your cheek, the two smooth piercings on his own traced the turn of his head. “I knew you could do it, you always do. You were basically made to take me. Nobody else could stuff you this well anyway.”
“Fuck! Only you, Scara,” you whined as you accommodated his length and waited for the pain to give way to pleasure. “Please fuck me, I need you so badly.”
“Since you asked so nicely…” On the first drag out, he made sure you could feel each and every vein against your sensitive walls before slamming back in with a single thrust. His deep strokes never failed to knock the air from your lungs and soon enough you were gasping at your own reflection, pleasure intensified by watching how his dick glistened from your arousal more every time he pulled back out before pushing in with a wet squelching sound.
When your gaze drifted towards an indigo one, you were hardly surprised to find your boyfriend already watching you. Whether it was the furrow of your brows, your parted lips, the sweat rolling down your neck or the bounce of your chest, to him it was all incredibly alluring, especially because he was the one who got you into this blissed out state in the first place. 
“You’re gorgeous like this,” he mused into the crook of your neck, voice betraying just a bit of the strain he must be feeling. “But I have some improvement ideas.”
“Ye-ah?” 
Catching your bouncing breasts in his palms, his fingers trapped the skin of your areolas and rolled it around, applying just the right amount of pleasure. “Don't get me wrong, these are cute as they are but I bet they’d look even hotter with piercings in them. What do you think, doll? Would you let me pierce those gorgeous nipples of yours?” 
There was no need to actually nod your head, the way you squeezed his cock at the imagination was a dead give away of how much you enjoyed the fantasy of letting your boyfriend do just that. Just envisioning the exciting sting when he’d pull on the delicate jewellery while in a position similar to this had your hips buck down of their own accord.
“Yeah? You like that?” You could hear the self-satisfied smirk in his voice without having to tear your eyes away from the fingers playing with your chest, thighs trembling as the second high of the night creeped up on you, further amplified by the idea of shiny jewellery decorating your body. “Getting close again? I can feel you clamping down on me, no need to deny it.”
By now, there was no thought running through your head aside from your boyfriend and how deep he was hitting every sensitive spot inside of you. You were giving it your all to follow his command of watching yourself but at one point it became too much and your head rolled back into his shoulder, baring your neck and throat to him completely. 
But you weren’t the only one nearing your orgasm. Although better at hiding it, there was no concealing the laboured groans next to your ear or the heated throbbing of Scara’s cock inside you, his hips snapping up into yours more erratically. Snaking one hand down your front once more, deft fingers drawing figure eights on your aching clit.
“Bet you’d even let me pierce you down here, yeah? Making this little thing even more reactive, just so I can rile you up more? You’re such a slut, I bet you’d even beg me to do it,” he panted breathlessly, pinching the area in question to underline his point.
“Scara, please—!”
“Fuck, yeah just like that.” His laugh came out stuttered. “Let me mark what’s mine, yeah? Make sure nobody gets any funny ideas—“
Both of your voices trailed off into whines and groans as you gripped him like a vice, having him doubling his effort to pull back out as you sucked him back in. Then, your thighs locked up and you let out the sweetest yet most sinful moan of the night, trembling through your high as you milked your boyfriend for all his worth. With stuttering hips, he slammed in one more time as deep as he could and bit down on your shoulder as thick, hot spurts of cum filled you up. 
Catching your breath, you slumped back bonelessly against his chest as he rode out his orgasm before you pushed the hand that was still meanly tracing your clit away with a weak whine. You felt his chuckle as much as you heard it while he pressed a kiss to the mark he left with his teeth. Despite his cock still plugging you up, you could feel some of his load dribbling from your spent hole.
Slowly, you loosened the death grip you had on his hair, flexing your fingers to regain some of the feeling in them. Finding your voice again, you inquired “So, about those piercings… Did you mean it?“
“Oh, definitely.” Eyeing the darkening skin of your shoulders and collarbones mischievously, he met your gaze through the mirror, bucking his hips up just enough to feel you clench around him again. “Perhaps you could give me some more inspiration for a new tattoo as well~”
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