However, Homiecider Genocider Jill… Jack thought yes. No longer was it necessary for you to have to deal with a character from a cartoon, especially when it was all fiction once she wrapped her arms around her breasts as if she hadn’t purposefully shown them to you before. Then you would turn the other cheek because her next course of action was to pull at her unkempt braids and wail a, Fuck me! before throwing her head back and sneezing that undesirable personality out of her. The young adult’s finger would find the corner of her lips, her blood coating her fingernails, and then your nose would crinkle because nothing was more lovely to her than the taste of your sour and her copper. Instead, you opted to raise your fist and connect it to her cheek so that she may someday learn her lesson. Well aware of her needs, you no longer raised your shoulders and squinted your eyes in discomfort when she… very openly, in public, would inhale every last of a strawberry scented perfume you found scavenging the city upon your uniform. Now in dire times, deodorant was to be the last of your worries, and you allowed the perspiration to slather your skin and trace the bumps forever remaining along your body. Her tongue would sprawl from her lips, trailing across the moist surface with the scent of you.
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