Cook jerking of in the living room or watching porn and you threatening him with the taser or throwing things at him and screaming how discusting he is jdkdnendk
You’re so funny Heretic. Don’t go bald.
The lock turns.
Cook freezes.
And you walk in, unaware of the scene happening.
Well, until you look up and see him.
You drop your bags, it falls to the ground, items cluttering at your feet. Your mouth is dropped open, eyebrows raised all the way to your hairline.
And Cook, the shameful fucker who you choose (against your will) to room with is sitting on the couch, pants hanging at his ankles, hands wrapped around his cock— mid stroke mind you— and the tv turned high with what you can only assume is porn playing.
There’s moans and grunts, a women pleading and begging for more. Slapping sounds that’s wet and harsh— dear God, someone end it all.
“I-I can explain.” He stutters.
He doesn’t move, his hand is still wrapped around his cock, his bare ass is pasted on the brand new couch you just bought last week because he broke the other one by jumping on it like it was a fucking trampoline.
“Explain…what?” You grit, finding it insanely impossible not to call the cops and let them know that there will be a murder in this exact apartment in approximately 6 minutes. “You’re jerking it in the living room. What more can you explain?”
“Well,” he starts. Of course he starts. Because somehow this needed an explanation.
“My tv is broken and we have a perfect good one—“
“Cook,” you clutch your jaw, grinding your teeth together. “You have 30 seconds to get your ass off of my couch and fuck off to porn town somewhere else.”
“But—“
“25 seconds.”
He shoots up from the couch, struggling to pull his pants up while waddling to his room like a penguin.
The bad thing about this?
You’re going to have to bleach the couch 100 times.
The good thing about this?
You got to see his ass.