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I met him on Overwatch—random match, random night, but somehow we kept playing together. He was hilarious online, quick with jokes, easy to talk to. After weeks of late-night games and long conversations, meeting up felt harmless.
At first, it was. We sat in a crowded café, talking like old friends. But then he leaned in. Too close. His hand brushed my arm… then slid down, lingering in a way that made my whole body tense.
I pulled back. He didn’t.
His hand crept toward my leg again, slow and deliberate, like he thought I wouldn’t notice—or wouldn’t stop him.
My heart started pounding, loud and sharp. I told him no. Clear. Firm. The table suddenly felt too small, the café too quiet, his stare too heavy.
For a second he just sat there, stunned, like my boundaries were some kind of plot twist he hadn’t expected.
I stood up and i started to walk away but he grabbed me so i turned around and 200 pumped him in the head and said nice try bucko. -rep

how is your fentreactor ?

oil urself ill be there in 5

+ infinite social credits

pro player, jego motto to SZACUNEK oraz BHO Bóg Honor Ojczyzna
ps. powiedz paskalowi, ze pisze wlasnie na fb do jego matki :)
swoja droga fajne imie xd jak dla psa xdddd