Can I request HCās for walking in on the ghosts and accidentally catching them masturbating?
Sorry for the late reply. I had imaging done and an appointment with my hematologist. 22 tubes of blood knocked me into a coma!
Let me know of you'd like me to tweak this ā¤ļøš§”ššššā¤ļøš§”ššššā¤ļøš§”ššššā¤ļø
Keeganās quiet. Serious. Calculated.
Which is why itās a shock when you peek through the cracked door of his quarters and see him on his knees in front of the bed, shirtless, flushed, rutting into his fist.
Your panties, your panties, are stuffed in his mouth just to get a taste of you. He knows it's sick and he shouldn't have taken your clothes from the hamper but godā¦ he lives the taste of you. Your panties are muffling his low grunts as his hips twitch.
He doesnāt notice you at first. Heās so focused, so lost in it.
But then he hears the faint creak of the floor.
He freezes. Then, stone-faced, not a word, he pulls the panties from his mouth, walks over, hands them to you, and shuts the door.
You donāt speak of it. But you definitely notice your underwear keeps disappearing after laundry.
Ajax is passionate, loud, and a total himbo, but once he finishes? Itās game over.
You walk into his room and find him completely naked, covered in cum, abs streaked, hand still loosely wrapped around his softening dickā¦
Snoring faintly, mouth slightly open.
His brows are furrowed like he was really into it, but the man nutted so hard he knocked himself unconscious.
You just stand there in stunned silence. Do you cover him? Leave him? Steal his blanket?
Either way, he has no idea you ever saw him. Unless you tease him about it later, and then he just goes, āWait WHAT? You saw that? ā¦Was I impressive at least?ā
Kick's in bed, lights low, headphones around his neck, phone screen still lit with something definitely not safe for work.
You come in without knocking, thinking he's just working late.
He looks up as you catch him mid-stroke, his cock thick in his hand.
No flinch. No panic. He just gives you a look.
Doesnāt flinch. Doesnāt stop.
Just blinks, smirks, and keeps stroking. Slow, deliberate, never breaking eye contact.
āDidnāt say you had to leave,ā he says, voice low and playful. āKinda like the way you look when youāre speechless.ā
He leans back a little further, giving you a full view, letting out a soft groan like heās performing just for you.
If you stay frozen, he tilts his head: āCome on, sweetheart. You already caught me, might as well enjoy the show.ā
You open Merrickās door to ask a question and freeze.
Heās lounging in bed, completely naked, cock in hand, chest heaving.
But he doesnāt even look surprised to see you.
āThere you are,ā he grins, voice deep and warm, āget in here.ā
Doesnāt ask. Doesnāt beg. Just opens his arms.
āCāmere, sweetheart. Help me out.ā
You stammer, but youāre already moving, because that voice, that confidence, it drags you under like a riptide.
He always wanted you to walk in on him.
Now that you have? Heās not wasting the opportunity.
Poor Logan. Sweet, broody Logan.
Heās under the blanket, flushed, breathing heavy, hips twitching just a little.
You catch the shape of his cock tenting the sheets, huge. Leaking.
His hand freezes the second he notices you.
āShitā¦! I didnātā¦fuck-ā he tries to cover himself, but the bulge only gets more obvious.
His face is crimson. He canāt meet your eyes.
You, on the other hand, canāt look away. Something about his helplessness makes your thighs press together.
You shut the door behind you and crawl onto the bed.
āLet me help you,ā you whisper, pulling the blanket down.
Logan gasps as you wrap your lips around his cock, his head falling back in disbelief, soft moans escaping before he can stop them.
You walk in on Hesh mid-moan, hips snapping up, jerking into his fist like heās fucking it, panting and sweating.
āFuckā¦your pussyā¦your tight fuckinā ~oh fuckā¦ā
His eyes open as you step in, and he doesnāt stop.
āPlease! fuck, just show me somethinā. Anything,ā he begs, voice cracking.
āLift your shirt! Take off your pants! please, fuck, Iām so close! been thinkinā about you all weekā
Heās desperate. A wreck.
You donāt even get the chance to leave. Heās begging.
And if you give in? If you show him just a sliver of skin?
He loses it, gasping, crying out your name like itās a prayer. Pathetic little pup he is.
