area woman sees greeting card at target and For Some Reason is overcome with complicated emotions regarding two call of duty characters, of all things ♡
anyways there is ghostsoap everywhere for those with the eyes to see
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seeing people critique the palestinian resistance for allying with iran. me personally i would ally myself with satan against israel
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nanami kento tries so hard not to fuck you on your first date, it makes him feel like a terrible man. he’s not like this, usually. you just frustrate every single cell in him, sexually — he can’t believe this is happening to him, honestly.
it’s a pain, he acts cold and distant — he’s simply trying to hide his boner half of the time. he zones out while you speak — your lips are distracting, he can’t hear a single word you speak. he can only think of the many ways your lips would shape and shift when you moan and whimper his name the deeper he sinks his cock in you. also, can you fit all of him down your throat? oh, can you—
fuck…
his cock gets hard under the table, forcing a sense of panic in him while he ponders whether he’s visibly leaked and stained his slacks or not. terrified to look down, because he knows. he’s so fucked.
he needs to wait a bit before you leave the restaurant, to cool off a bit, calm down. but it only gets worse from there.
he drives you back home, but doesn’t leave the car to walk you to your doorstep. his cock is hard again, aching so bad it limits his movements. besides if he steps out and stands tall before you — you will see, this time you definitely will. he’s embarrassed. and on top of that, he feels like an ass, the lowest of the lowest, for treating you so poorly.
the entire car ride was torturous to him, courtesy of your scent so close to him in the passenger seat, along with the way you tucked your hands between your thighs every now and then — perhaps the awkward silence got you nervous. he wondered all the way to your house how you smelled and tasted, down there.
you think the whole date was a disaster, and that he’ll never call you again but little did you know, the first thing he did when he went back home was jerk off — not once, not twice, but three fucking times, thinking about you. furiously.
later, he texts you. you blink a few times in utter disbelief.
dinner tomorrow? i’ll cook
dinner — at his place, that is. he’ll change the bedsheets in the morning with freshly washed ones, because this time — he’ll fuck you.
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erik being like “you control minds charles….. you can get into my head…… you can make me do whatever you want…….. i couldn’t possibly disobey you if you really wanted to make me do something, you know……..” EVERY time he has no helmet on it’s like. ok jesus we get it. we get the point erik.
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