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Avril Lavigne for Rolling Stone in 2002dļ¾ļ¾ļ½„ļ½”ā
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@cherryfused asked: ć WHISPER ć : for sender to whisper something suggestive in receivers ear / šļø
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Vox gives a performative grimace as he hears the hushed words coming into his audio input, his best attempt to appear merely annoyed by Cherry's actions instead of completely engrossed in the fantasy entailed by what she's describing. He knows he's not getting any of what's promised either way, and so he refuses to give her the satisfaction. Or at least, he tries.
"You've... been spending too much time around Angel." The way that he's started digging his claws into the surface of his desk and the loud sound of the fans desperately trying to keep him cool, it seems like that time's certainly paid off.
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This is Cherry whenever there's two Voxes [ or more ] at any given time:
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Absolute icons !!
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There's no need for words. Velvette thinks she makes her opinion of Cherry's outfit pretty clear as she struts up to the girl, grips the low collar of her top, and rips it clean down the middle. "Oops." Cheap fucking fabric. ( from @devilvette )
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¤āWELL THAT WAS A LITTLE RUDE,ā CHERRY PURRS,ć
¤not startled; rather, the complete opposite: delighted. Rubine lips curl around the word like itās the stem of a cherry sheās not done sucking on; the sound is lazy, too pleased to be mad, even as fabric peels down her torso in two dramatic halves. Threads hang like ribbons around her waist, & her expression flickers between mock-offense & perhaps something a little hungrier, āYa always greet employees by trying to cop a feel, or am I just your type?ā She tosses whatās left of her shirt over one shoulder like a silk scarf & steps forward, toe-to-toe with the chaos sprite in platform heels & bad intentions. Her tone dips [ low, syrupy-slow ] as she adds, āIf you wanted me undressed, all you had to do was buy me a drink first,ā [ admittedly, her colleague Vox did a lot less, & Cherry has no problem fucking him⦠for the time being, that is ] Thereās glitter on her collarbones & the faint shimmer of old burn scars beneath it; she wears the damage like stage makeup, meant to dazzle, not hide. Her posture leans into Velvetteās orbit, but itās unclear whether sheās sizing her up for a fight, a flirt, or something worseā¦
The air between them feels staged in a way; full of velvet curtain tension & backstage dare. Cherry doesnāt pull back; if anything, she closes the distance, a cherrybomb idly spinning in her palm, [ tick tick, bitch ] āGuess I owe ya now, huh?ā she muses, lone eye dragging from the slash in her top to the fingers that caused it, āBut if I let you start dressing me, youād better be ready to finish the job; ya gonna get to the rest... or do you want me to do it?ā Her grin is all teeth, lipstick smeared just enough to hint sheās been kissing trouble already tonight; still standing close enough to taste her perfume & impulse. Cherryās not sure if this is a power move or foreplay, but either way, sheās not about to be the first to blink. She shifts her weight just ever so, allowing her hip brush Velvetteās with just enough friction to leave a question mark hanging in the airā¦
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¤āYOU CALL THIS SHIT A MEET & GREET?āć
¤Cherry laughs; bright, edged with bite [ unmoved even as security drifts closer, every note of it daring them to try ] Eye doesnāt even flick to the guard, barely acknowledges him actually; all her attentionās on the star of the hour. Her fingers keep spinning that cherrybomb, [ slow & deliberate, ] a dare wrapped in glitter, āThen Iām real glad I missed it, sweetheart,ā she hums, stepping fully into the threshold [ uncowed & unhurried, ] āI donāt do lines⦠or crowds⦠or waiting my turn, really,ā Thereās something practiced about the way she leans in [ equal parts fangirl, critic, & chaos engine ] but her gaze is sharp beneath her black lipstick & teasing, āBesides,ā she adds, gesturing vaguely toward the stage, āthey might be dying to see you, sure. But I donāt think any of āem walked through fire to get a closer look,ā Grin widens, but otherwise doesnāt soften; sheās not drunk on the atmosphere the way others might be. Sheās hungry; watching & reading the demoness across from her the same way she reads a lit fuse,
The bass still thrums through the walls, but Cherry filters it out; her mind is focused, which is dangerous. Sheās not here for a selfie or a signature; sheās here for the person underneath all the glitter & glamor, curious about the kind of woman who survives being worshipped like that every night, āYou look good up there,ā she adds, voice lower now, perhaps more honest than maybe intended, āLike you were born in the spotlight; betcha they forget youāre even real.ā She doesnāt sound like sheās flirting anymore, [ though, the warmth in her tone says she still could, if she wanted to, ] She tucks the cherrybomb away at last [ the faintest hint of restraint ] as her shoulders ease, gaze locked on Verosikaās face, āYou always that cool with strangers in your dressing room?ā she asks, cocking a brow, āOr am I gonna get dragged out mid-compliment?ā Cherry wants to see whatāll crack first: the stage mask or the woman behind it; thereās no threat in her posture, no pitch in her presence, [ just a rather peculiar combination of softness & spark that clings to girls who once wore halos & havenāt quite shaken the habit of giving a damn⦠]
Skin holds the heat of performanceāsweat mingling with highlighter that catches the light a little too eagerly, then settles on camera like liquid crystal. A quick touch-up leaves behind the faint scent of hairspray and setting powder, paired with a new outfit that signals the next show is close. The crowdās voices fade into a low hum and when Cherry steps in, she moves like a note folding seamlessly into the musicāpresent, but unobtrusive.Ā
ā The meet and greet is over, babe. ā Verosikaās reply slides into autopilot; too much noise clutters the space between the stage and her mind. With a subtle gesture, she signals the guard, who steps in to guide drifting fans away. But not before Verosika pivots, casting a curious glance toward the stranger.
ā You really should get here early! There are people out there DYING to see me! ā Nothing Cherry says takes holdānot from indifference, but from a measured distance. Verosika drinks steadily from her flask, her focus sharp and unyieldingāthe only thing that carries her through show after show.
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¤āāFINEā HE SAYS; ALL COVERED IN SOOT,ć
¤bleeding through dollar-store gauze, & smelling like a trash fire married a liquor store,ā Cherry scoffs without real heat, corner of her mouth twitching up as she peels another snack cake from the cellophane with her teeth, fingers too sticky from blood & antiseptic to manage grace. The motel TV flickers like a dying bug zapper, casting Husk in glitchy blues & soft static shadows, & she allows her gaze to linger long enough to read the little tells he probably doesnāt know heās giving off; she sees the way his hand slows around the bandage, how his brow furrows from focus. Thereās an ease to it now, an almost domestic silence between their bickering; she doesn't press or thank him, nor does she ask why he still hasnāt kicked her out. Instead, she grabs a half-melted bottle of cheap gin from the nightstand, swishes it like mouthwash & raises it halfway toward him. āTo surviving the gate-truck debacle,ā she toasts with a grin, ā...Again. & to me, for doing all the damn legwork while you played getaway driver-slash-scenic navigator; pfft.ā She lets the words hang in the air, bold & stupid & loud [ just like her ] Thereās glitter in her eyelashes, dried blood in the crease of her elbow, & bruises blooming across her ribs, but she leans back like itās the most comfortable bed in all of Hell, arms spread out like she owns the room,
Husk doesnāt say much [ he never does, truly ] but Cherry knows him well enough now to catch the meaning in the grunt he gives her toast, the way his ears flick without twitching away. Itās not approval exactly, but it isnāt annoyance either, is it? [ Humans are so weird, ] She stretches, foot nudging the side of his chair with a light kick, āYou ever think itās weird weāre both still alive?ā Cherry doesnāt say it, but the last job was closer than sheāll admit; closer than he knows. She still hears the blast when she closes her eye; still smells his blood under her nails. That was hours ago, & she hasnāt left the room since, āMaybe Hellās just short on warm bodies lately,ā she muses aloud, half to herself; her voice is quieter now, worn thin at the edges, but her smirk returns quick enough. āOr maybe you just really like having me around...ā it's not a real question, not one she expects answered; but itās there anyway, like smoke trailing from a sparkā¦
learningĀ toĀ trustĀ cherryĀ wasĀ likeĀ dyingĀ aĀ secondĀ timeĀ :Ā anĀ uncomfortableĀ inconvenienceĀ .Ā heĀ sitsĀ tooĀ closeĀ toĀ theĀ televisionĀ inĀ aĀ chairĀ thatĀ willĀ foreverĀ feelĀ dampĀ andĀ sticky,Ā feetĀ proppedĀ onĀ theĀ tvĀ cabinetĀ .Ā hisĀ singedĀ furĀ isĀ coatedĀ blueĀ andĀ whiteĀ fromĀ theĀ screen'sĀ snowyĀ glowĀ ,Ā andĀ heĀ nursesĀ hisĀ cigaretteĀ likeĀ aĀ pacifierĀ ;Ā keepingĀ hisĀ foulĀ languageĀ lockedĀ upĀ insideĀ ,Ā ratherĀ thanĀ spewedĀ atĀ cherryĀ .Ā oh,Ā he'dĀ loveĀ toĀ correctĀ herĀ :Ā thatĀ upĀ untilĀ fiveĀ minutesĀ fromĀ detonationĀ ,Ā theĀ truckĀ andĀ theĀ gateĀ wereĀ atĀ theĀ sameĀ fuckingĀ placeĀ ,Ā andĀ whoĀ hadĀ theĀ brilliantĀ ideaĀ toĀ moveĀ theĀ damnĀ truckĀ inĀ theĀ firstĀ placeĀ withoutĀ tellingĀ himĀ .Ā .Ā .Ā butĀ that'sĀ aĀ losingĀ gameĀ ifĀ he'dĀ everĀ playedĀ oneĀ .
learningĀ toĀ trustĀ cherryĀ .Ā heĀ supposesĀ heĀ stillĀ isĀ ,Ā inĀ aĀ wayĀ .Ā she'dĀ spentĀ aĀ fewĀ nightsĀ sleepingĀ roughĀ inĀ hisĀ livingĀ roomĀ ,Ā andĀ he'dĀ spentĀ thoseĀ nightsĀ wideĀ awakeĀ withĀ aĀ loadedĀ pistolĀ .Ā she'dĀ keptĀ comingĀ backĀ ,Ā bummingĀ suppliesĀ andĀ snacksĀ andĀ liquorĀ fromĀ hisĀ cabinetĀ ,Ā makingĀ aĀ homeĀ outĀ ofĀ theĀ threadbareĀ couchĀ heĀ mostlyĀ usedĀ forĀ decorationĀ ,Ā andĀ eventuallyĀ (Ā withoutĀ reallyĀ realizingĀ itĀ )Ā he'dĀ learnedĀ toĀ sleepĀ withĀ herĀ presenceĀ hauntingĀ hisĀ houseĀ .
theseĀ daysĀ ,Ā heĀ doesn'tĀ knowĀ ifĀ heĀ canĀ sleepĀ withoutĀ herĀ .
theĀ bandageĀ slapsĀ againstĀ hisĀ chestĀ solidlyĀ ,Ā andĀ heĀ grumblesĀ againĀ .Ā slowlyĀ ,Ā heĀ snakesĀ itĀ aroundĀ hisĀ forearmĀ ,Ā earsĀ andĀ noseĀ twitchingĀ atĀ theĀ stingĀ .Ā āĀ I'mĀ justĀ madĀ .Ā āĀ heĀ respondsĀ listlesslyĀ ,Ā concentrationĀ devotedĀ toĀ keepingĀ theĀ circulationĀ inĀ hisĀ armĀ (Ā notĀ tooĀ tightĀ ,Ā notĀ tooĀ looseĀ )Ā .Ā .Ā .Ā butĀ heĀ doesĀ eventuallyĀ lookĀ upĀ .Ā likeĀ throwingĀ aĀ boneĀ toĀ aĀ houndĀ ,Ā heĀ raisesĀ hisĀ eyebrowsĀ atĀ herĀ -Ā hisĀ universalĀ signĀ ofĀ appeasementĀ .Ā āĀ don'tĀ worryĀ yourĀ prettyĀ headĀ noneĀ .Ā it'sĀ fineĀ .Ā
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¤āEXPLOSIONS TEND TO LEAVE TRAILS, BABE āć
¤I just follow the smoke,ā Cherryās voice is steady, seemingly disinterested on the surface, but her hands betray the truth: precise, practiced & much too careful to be casual. The thread bites through the torn edge of scaled flesh with a snap, grip stead; thereās soot under her nails, gunpowder ghosts along her wrists, but her touch is delicate all the same. She leans in close enough to smell the residue in his coat, close enough to feel the heat that still lingers in his ribs, āYou really oughta label your prototypes better, yāknow,ā comes the murmur; lips curve, faint & sly, as she tugs the stitch tighter, ignoring the way he hisses [ itās almost fond; intimate, even ] Cherry has long since grown used to patching herself, so itās not new by any means; but doing it for someone else always felt strange, sacred even, in a world this cruel. Shifting to brace her weight more comfortably, the tip of her boot nudges a scorched wrench out of the way, āAnyway,ā she adds, quieter now, āyouāre lucky I was already nearby. Wouldnāt want the wrong person seeing you all cracked open like this; you wouldnāt believe the sickos out there, coming up with all sorts of ways to take advantage of you like this,ā she smirks,
Eye flicks up, finally catching his, āBesides,ā she brushes a curl from her cheek with the back of her wrist, āyouāre cute when youāre bleeding out & still trying to lecture me.ā Cherry isnāt built for stillness or softness or moments like this, but theyāve found her anyway, curling between the stitches & the burn marks like moss through sidewalk cracks; she could say sheās doing this because someone has to [ heās her arch nemesis, after all; gotta protect your own & all that ] or because heād do the same for her [ he wouldnāt, & she knows that ], or because it keeps her distracted from worse things. But the truth is simpler: she likes him. āSo,ā she adds, tying the thread with a knot thatāll scar neat & proud, āif you ever decide to blow yourself up again, mind giving me a heads-up? Iāll bring snacks next time,ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā NEW Ā EXPERIMENTS Ā CAME Ā WITH Ā THE Ā TENDENCY Ā TO Ā BACK Ā FIRE. Ā ESPECIALLY Ā the Ā testing Ā models. Ā He Ā should Ā have Ā known Ā better. Ā However, Ā he Ā was Ā far Ā too Ā into Ā his Ā work Ā to Ā care. Ā That Ā spark Ā of Ā curiosity, Ā the Ā fire Ā lit Ā in Ā his Ā gut Ā pushed Ā him Ā forward. Ā It Ā led Ā to Ā him Ā on Ā the Ā floor, Ā a Ā few Ā feet Ā away Ā from Ā where Ā the Ā new Ā weapon Ā exploded. Ā Pain Ā surged Ā through Ā his Ā core, Ā but Ā he Ā ignored Ā it Ā to Ā take Ā in Ā the Ā damage Ā that Ā had Ā been Ā done. Ā All Ā things Ā considered, Ā he Ā didnāt Ā have Ā to Ā start Ā from Ā scratch. Ā The Ā idea Ā filled Ā him Ā with Ā absolute Ā joy Ā until Ā the Ā corner Ā of Ā his Ā eyes Ā started Ā to Ā darken. Ā Sir Ā Pentious Ā finally Ā listened Ā to Ā his Ā body, Ā and Ā took Ā a Ā seat Ā for Ā a Ā rest. Ā When Ā he Ā saw Ā the Ā crimson Ā soaking Ā his Ā clothing Ā he Ā realized Ā just Ā how Ā deep Ā the Ā wound Ā in Ā his Ā side Ā was.Ā Ā Ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā THIS Ā FIRECRACKER Ā OF Ā A Ā WOMAN Ā SEEMED Ā DRAWN Ā TO Ā EXPLOSIONS. Ā SHE Ā had Ā made Ā him Ā jump Ā when Ā she Ā first Ā spoke, Ā already Ā at Ā his Ā side Ā to Ā look Ā at Ā the Ā wound Ā he Ā gave Ā himself. Ā Sir Ā Pentious Ā waved Ā her Ā away Ā at Ā first, Ā but Ā he Ā knew Ā the Ā pain Ā of Ā cleaning Ā and Ā stitching Ā his Ā own Ā wounds. Ā It Ā was Ā preferable Ā to Ā have Ā it Ā done Ā by Ā someone Ā elseās Ā hand⦠ a Ā hand Ā he Ā trusted. Ā Did Ā he Ā trust Ā @cherryfused? Ā She Ā had Ā been Ā the Ā only Ā one Ā to Ā come Ā to Ā his Ā aidā Ā really Ā the Ā only Ā person Ā there Ā when Ā he Ā turned Ā his Ā head, Ā and Ā the Ā only Ā one Ā genuinely Ā interested Ā in Ā his Ā work.Ā It Ā made Ā his Ā ribcage Ā tight, Ā and Ā his Ā whole Ā body Ā warm. Ā What Ā was Ā that Ā feeling Ā exactly? Ā It Ā would Ā be Ā something Ā to Ā look Ā into Ā at Ā a Ā certain Ā point Ā in Ā time.Ā Ā Ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā ā just a few more stitches and youāll be as good as new. ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā HER Ā VOICE Ā PULLED Ā HIM Ā FROM Ā THE Ā DEEP Ā RECESSES Ā OF Ā HIS Ā mind. Ā Crimson Ā eyes Ā glanced Ā at Ā her Ā as Ā she Ā worked Ā carefully Ā yet Ā effortlessly. Ā A Ā gentle Ā hiss Ā rumbled Ā through Ā his Ā entire Ā body Ā before Ā it Ā turned Ā venomous Ā at Ā the Ā tug Ā of Ā a Ā stitch, Ā ā Ā If Ā you Ā donāt Ā kill Ā me Ā firssst, Ā that Ā isss, Ā ā Ā he Ā was Ā half Ā serious. Ā He Ā hoped Ā it Ā would Ā make Ā her Ā smile Ā and Ā why Ā did Ā he Ā want Ā that? Ā ā Ā I Ā am Ā curious, Ā Missss Ā Cherry, Ā how Ā are Ā you Ā so Ā quick Ā to Ā appear Ā in Ā sssituations Ā such Ā as Ā thisss? Ā ā
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"Here! It's pasta salad. My own recipe." There's a warm, if not also nervous, smile on Melissa's face as she offers up the tupperware to the other. "I make it sometimes for the guys, and I had some extra sooo... I hope you like it." ( from melissa, idk why but i decided she likes to meal prep lol )
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¤āOOOOH, PASTA SALAD, HUH?ā CHERRY RAISES A BROW,ć
¤eyeing the tupperware almost like it might bite; sheās naturally suspicious of anything homemade & handed to her with a smile [ though, it doesnāt mean itās not appreciated! ] ā Cherry takes it, fingers curling around the container, āThis a bribe? You tryinā to butter me up before I blow somethinā up again?ā Her grin tugs wide, though thereās no real bite behind it; just that usual Cherry Bomb spark, a little razzle-dazzle to keep everyone on their toes. Popping the lid open, she sniffs exaggeratedly [ purely for comedic flair, ] āSmells... surprisingly not poisoned,ā Cue a wink, a shrug, & she digs in with whatever plastic fork sheās pilfered from someoneās desk drawer, taking a bite⦠āpause, [ chew, then a blink⦠] āOkay, wait. Hold up. This is actually⦠pretty fucking good?ā A genuine declaration, which is already rare; this alone earns Melissa a side glance just shy of impressed, āYou didnāt tell me you could cook. I assumed you were one of those āburn cerealā types.ā [ & yet, she was still willing to eat her concoction; but letās not dwell on that! ] There's the smallest glint of curiosity in her tone now; just maybe, sheās willing to admit this small act of kindness feels... weirdly nice,
She leans back against the counter, tupperware still in hand, twirling the fork like itās a detonator sheās debating whether to press, āYāknow,ā she says, mouth half-full, āthis is kinda the first thing someoneās given me in a while that didnāt come with strings or sarcasm.ā The words slip out with the same lazy charm she applies to everything else, but this time she covers it with a smirk, rolling her eye, āDonāt let it go to your head though; one good pasta salad & Iām not suddenly a reformed soul.ā The fork flicks upward, a silver jest in her hand; more laughter than warning, āStill,ā she adds after a beat, popping another bite between her teeth, ā...if this is what the guys are eating, maybe I oughta crash lunch more often. Or better yet; maybe you oughta open a place. Call it āBoom & Bites.ā Iāll handle the explosions, you handle the carbs,ā She grins [ wide & wicked ] but thereās something warmer beneath it now; a wordless thank youā¦
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SOFTĀ DETAILSĀ FOR SMUTĀ &Ā INTIMATEĀ MOMENTSĀ
[ TRUST ]Ā sender gently telling the receiver ājust let goā as they get them to finish.Ā Ā
[ TRUSTED ]Ā receiver gently telling senderĀ ājust let goā as they get them to finish.Ā
[ GRATIFY ]Ā Ā sender askingĀ āis that better?ā after finally penetrating receiver after teasing them.Ā
[ GRATIFYING ]Ā receiver askingĀ āis that better?ā after finally penetrating sender after teasing them.Ā
[ CONTROL ]Ā sender stops stimulating receiver and tells them they have to be still if they want to continue.Ā
[ CONTROLLED ]Ā receiver stops stimulating sender and tells them the have to be still if they want to continue.Ā Ā
[ GAZE ]Ā sender taking receiverās jaw and saying ālook at meā during sex or foreplay.
[ GAZING ]Ā receiver taking senderās jaw and sayingĀ ālook at meā during sex or foreplay.
[ HOLD ]Ā sender holding receiver close during an especially intense moment and whisperingĀ āiāve got you.āĀ
[ HELD ]Ā receiver holding sender close during an especially intense moment and whisperingĀ āiāve got youāĀ
[ CLOSE ]Ā sender wrapping their arms around receiver who is on top after theyāve finished,Ā holding them close against their chest with their face hidden in their neck while they recover.Ā
[ CLOSER ]Ā receiver wrapping their arms around sender who is on top after theyāve finished,Ā holding them close against their chest with their face hidden in their neck while they recover.Ā
[ JOY ]Ā sender getting louder than usual which makes receiver start laughing affectionately,Ā taking the opportunity to check in.Ā
[ JOYFUL ]Ā receiver getting louder than usual which makes sender start laughing affectionately,Ā taking the opportunity to check in.Ā
[ TIMID ]Ā the submissive partner getting self conscious and covering their face,Ā laughing softly at the intensity.Ā Ā
[ COAX ]Ā the dominant partner gently moving the shy or overwhelmed submissiveās hands from covering their face so they can kiss them,Ā breathing praises against their skin.Ā
[ ADORE ]Ā sender whisperingĀ āyouāre perfectā to receiver after undressing them.Ā
[ ADORED ]Ā receiver whisperingĀ āyouāre perfectā to sender after undressing them.Ā
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instagram @smutty_secrets
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If Diza [ Cherry ] is ever around your muse in her true / previous / Heavenly form, they are absolutely welcome to make fun of her Heavenly garb. It was full-on princess fairy meets choir girl; soft pastels, translucent layers, glowing lace, glittering embellishments & fluttery sleeves. It was all part of the image; sweet, mild, obedient; definitely not her. So yeah, if your muse laughs? Sheās right lowkey there with them; eye-roll & all,
#ā§ [ out of ] mod commentary#[ i mean there's the fact that her 'head' is a flaming eyeball ( i've yet to decide ) but idc what Cherry thinks she was a pretty princess#[ she didn't particularly /hate/ it ( evident by her current outfits; it's still girly just punk ) but it just wasn't /her/ - still-#-fuckable though! š ]
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ššššš / from @cherryfused [ she's taking all of them, deal with it /jk ]
The first 5 Asks to sendĀ š get a kiss (3/5)
It's the quickest way to shut this insufferable brat up, and he's going to take it. Slamming one hand down on his desk, he hefts her up with his other arm wrapped around her waist, glaring at the cyclops. He pauses only long enough to let out a growl of disapproval, a spark jumping between his antennae, before he pulls her in for the kiss. There's no hesitation to use tongue, letting bloody saliva dribble between their mouths. With a sweeping motion, the overlord uses their free hand to clear the surface of his desk - a simple task, considering Cherry had already knocked half of what was on there over.
He'd probably have to cancel that three thirty meeting.
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