Hello Tumblr! Honestly I don't know how to operate this text thingy but we move!
Introduction:
My name is Dara as you all know. I'm a k-pop and k-drama freak! (Not that freak but that freak). I love reading stories and you all have been feeding me with amazing stories (YASSSS). And I have a weird sense of humour.
The main purpose why I'm here is to learn some skills of writing and to read smut (jk) but maybe a little bit? (DON'T JUDGE). Don't worry, I don't like too much of smut lmao 😭. Anyway, I'm here to add to my knowledge about writing and to meet new people with amazing interest and humours! And to try and feed myself with fanfics I need (life of a small fandom huhu).
Hope you enjoyed the introduction, (it's tacky) but with time, I'll improve 😼.
Note: I don't know if it's inappropriate but I think it's mild? I don't know and if it's too inappropriate, please notify me.
You head upstairs after dinner, stomach full, mind already drifting toward the little things you wanted to do before bed—maybe scroll your phone, do some homework, pick out the outfits you wanted to wear to school tomorrow. The hallway is quiet, your parents still downstairs watching TV whilst talking.
When you push open your bedroom door and flick the light switch, you don’t expect anything unusual.
But you did.
You saw somebody's body through your window, one leg dangling outside, one leg on your desk chair, frozen in the act of climbing in. His eyes go wide at the same time yours do, like two deer caught in the same headlights.
"Martin?! The hell?!" You whisper-yell, your voice shooting higher than you mean it to.
"Sweetie? Everything okay there?" Your mum shouted from below. You both look at eachother. Frozen and scared. "Sweetie?"
He flinches, pressing a finger to his lips. "Shhh!"
"Don't 'shhhh' me!" You whisper-yell.
"Yeah, everything is okay mum! I just saw bug." You shout back, nervous and scared. "Okay!"
You slam the door shut behind you, back pressed against it as your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. "What the fuck are you looking for here?!"
"…Climbing in?" He says, sheepish grin tugging at his lips.
You glare at him, but before you can argue more, he loses balance. You rush forward, grabbing his sleeve and tugging him inside before he can crash to the floor. He stumbles, nearly knocking over your lamp, and both of you burst into muffled laughter, hands pressed over your mouths to stay quiet.
"I don't even know what to say," you hiss, shaking your head.
"And yet you pulled me in," he teases, finally standing up straight, dusting off his hoodie. Like sneaking into your room through the window is perfectly normal. Then he flops down on your bed, arms behind his head like he owns the place.
You cross your arms. "What are you doing?"
He smirks, tilting his head. "I just wanted to see you. Texting felt boring. Windows felt… romantic."
You face-palmed yourself, shaking you head. "Unbelievable."
You groan, but your lips twitch into a reluctant smile. That was the problem with Martin—no matter how reckless he was, you couldn’t stay mad at him.
He pats the space beside him. "C’mon. Sit."
You roll your eyes but give in, sitting cross-legged across from him. Conversation flows easily—jokes, half-whispered stories. At some point, he laughs and says, "Crazy how I met you because your close friend was dating one of my members. Best accident of my life."
"Yeah, crazy."
Footsteps echo in the hall. Both of you freeze.
"Hide!" you hiss.
Martin scrambles. He finally went under your bed. Your parents open the door. "Everything okay in there?"
"Y-yeah!" you stammer, sitting stiffly on your bed, trying to sound casual. "Just… y'know, doing the ususl."
You smile nervously, blocking the view of your bed. After a moment, your dad hums, "Alright. Don’t stay up too late."
"Goodnight sweetie," and shuts the door again.
The silence stretches. Then Martin peeks out from under, hair sticking up, and you both burst into muffled laughter, clutching your stomachs.
"That was intense."
Martin crawls out, eyes on you. "It really was." He chuckled, fully out now.
"So." You started, arms crossed. "Does your members know?"
He dusts himself, his eyes landing on yours. "Yeah."
"They do?"
"Yeah, they even encouraged me." Grining like an idiot. You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Why am I even surprised?"
"I'm hungry." Martin chuckled, nervous. "Are you deadass?"
"Nope."
You stared at him, wide-eyed. "You're actually serious."
"Of course, I am." He flops on your bed, resting his head on the soft pillow. "Ugh, just stay put and I'll bring some snacks okay?" He gave a thumbs-up with a smile lingering on his face.
You went downstairs to get some snacks that were available in the cabinet–some chips, sweets, beef jerky. Anything. With the things you could find, you carried them to your room quietly to not wake up your parents.
"Hey! My saviour is back." He sat up. You threw the snacks on the bed and closed the door behind you quietly.
"Just be quiet." You warned. "Or you're going to wake up my parents and we don't want that."
He nodded, tearing into the chips. "Ugh, this is so good." He kept a mouthful of the chips in his mouth. "Don't die on my bed."
"Whatever."
"I'm gonna shower now." You said, grabbing your pyjamas. "Don't make a mess."
"Yes, I won't." He said with a grin, reaching for the sweet packets.
You shook your head, slipping into the bathroom. The sound of water running filled the quiet room and Martin eating to his satisfaction. You came outside, your hair damped and skin warm from the steam. You were on your pyjamas–A cozy pajama set with a light gray long-sleeve V-neck top and pink-and-gray plaid ruffled shorts.
You saw Martin resting his hand on his cheeks, his elbow rested on the bed whilst laying down. "Hey pretty girl."
"Ew." You made a face. "You don't even try." You chuckled, using a towel to dry your hair. "What? I'm being nice."
"Yeah, no."
"What? Someone's gotta tell you."
You paused mid-rub, glancing at him. Before it could linger, you flicked water droplets from your hair at him.
"Gross!" he laughed, shielding his face. "Okay, okay! Truce!"
You laughed quietly, you went to switch off the lights. Martin had already turned on the lamp on the stand.
You grinned, tossing the towel aside and climbing into bed. He scooted over automatically, making room for you.
For a while, the two of you lay there in the soft glow of your lamp, the wrappers scattered like evidence of mischief. Martin stretched, letting out a quiet sigh.
"Crazy how this feels… normal," he said softly.
You tilted your head at him. "Sneaking into my room, stealing my snacks, almost giving me a heart attack—this feels normal to you?"
He smiled, eyes drifting toward yours. "Yeah. With you, it kinda does."
"Unbelievable." You reached over and switched the lamp off. The room fell into darkness, the faint glow from outside spilling through the curtains.
Martin shifted beside you, close enough that you could hear the quiet rhythm of his breathing. The mattress dipped with his weight as he turned onto his side, facing you.
"You awake?" He whispered.
"Go to sleep and yes." You answered.
There was a pause
Neither of you moved closer—but the space between you felt smaller, charged.
Martin let out a shaky little laugh. "I should probably say something funny right now, but… I don’t want to ruin this."
Your chest tightened, warmth spreading through you.
Then you turned to the other side, barely seeing his face. You could sense he has a small smile on his face. He use his hand to shift some strands of hair that was blocking your face. "Even tho, I can't see you clearly. You look and will always look beautiful in my eyes." His tone, soft and clear.
He shifted again, inching imperceptibly closer. "I… I like this," he whispered, voice low and rough.
"Like… being here?" you asked, not sound.
"Yeah," he breathed, and then he hesitated, eyes flicking down to your lips before back to your eyes. "Being with you.
You froze, a shiver running through you, words caught somewhere between your throat. "You're not joking, are you?"
"No." His chuckle low.
His hand moved slowly, shyly, down to your waist, bringing you close to him. Then, just like that, the space between you disappeared. "Can I kiss you?"
"W-what?"
"I said, can I kiss you?" He whispered close to your lips. You bit your lip in confusion. Did you really want this? Was it worth it? And without thinking, your lips met his, it wasn’t a rush, not a messy first kiss—it was soft, lingering, in the best way.
When you pulled back slightly, just enough to see each other, you were both smiling, breaths mingling.
"You’re ridiculous," you whispered, shaking your head but unable to hide the flush in your cheeks.
Martin chuckled, low and pleased. "Yeah… but you kinda like it."
"Oh, shut up," you whispered, and he leaned in again, brushing his lips softly against yours, letting the night stretch on just for the two of you.
"We should stop…" you breathed, your lips barely leaving his, voice trembling.
His forehead pressed gently against yours, and you felt the warmth of his breath, "…Yeah," he murmured, "…but I don’t want to."
Your lips met again—this time firmer, slower. Your hands twined in his hair, tugging him closer without meaning to. His hands cupped your face, thumb brushing across your cheekbone, sending butterflies crawling down your spine. You gasped softly into him.
"We really should—"you whispered, but the words were drowned by the soft, teasing chuckle against your mouth.
"Stop?" he murmured, lips grazing yours again, "…I don't think so, love."
The kiss deepened, slow, aching, filled with that delicious tension you couldn’t name. A yearning that had been simmering under every laugh, every text, every stolen glance since you’d first met. Your lips barely breaking contact, fingers gripping, bodies.
His thumb is slowly rubbing circles on your waist–soft, assertive. You felt excited, nervous at the same thing. It was something new.
When you finally parted, just enough to catch your breath, the space between you felt impossibly small. His smile was soft, eyes shimmering in the dark. "That was intense."
You nodded, cheeks hot, heart still racing. "…Yeah."
And in the quiet of your room. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a confession. "I'm sorry, I got carried away and-"
"Sh, it's okay.... I kinda liked it." You cut him off. Your cheeks hot, your breathing ragged, you swallowed the lump in your throat.
"You do?"
"Yeah." You gave a nervous laugh.
For a moment, neither of you said anything. The quiet of the room wrapped around you. Then Martin shifted closer, his hand finding your waist again. And with one gentle pull, he guided you onto your side and slipped in behind you.
Your breath hitched as your back pressed against his chest, his arm sliding around you.
"Better," he murmured, his voice low against your ear.
You swallowed, your heart pounding. but whispered back, "…Yeah."
He tightened his hold just slightly, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your waist. It was such a small thing, but it made your whole body shiver. You found yourself clutching his arm.
It was dangerous, and safe. And, you didn’t want it to end. The sunlight crept in through the blinds, spilling across the room. Martin stirred first, his eyes landed on you. You were still asleep, curled into the duvet, your face calm in a way that made him smile without even realizing.
He leaned over slowly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. Then, so carefully, he pressed a light kiss against your forehead.
"Sleep well, my pretty girl," he whispered, even though you couldn’t hear him.
He got up quietly, slipping his hoodie back on. Before leaving, he grabbed a scrap of paper he found on the desk and scribbled a quick note.
Didn’t want to wake you. I’ll see you later, promise. Have a great day, my pretty girl <3
—M
He placed it by your phone where he knew you’d see it, then glanced back one last time. A smile lingering on his face, remembering the thoughts–the intense kiss, the soft whispers you spoke with eachother, the gentle touches he did. Everything.
With one last look, he climbed through the window, hoping another time will come soon.
You’ve mercilessly teased Clark and Scott for how identical they are. Now they’ve turned it around on you and you need to learn to tell who's who.
▸ PAIRING & WC: Scott Miller x F!Reader x Clark Kent — 2.8K
▸ WARNINGS: NSFW 18+, filthy filthy filthy pwp, edging?, mean!scott but that's nothing new, double creampie, oral (m!receiving), taking turns fucking you basically
▸ A/N: brainrot started two weeks ago (half written in the home depot parking lot) and finally completed. this is for @theworstwolvie for always encouraging my messed up ideas, @thceseus for being on the same wavelength of cock guessing, and @kryptidfiles for always triggering me with your david corenswet reblogs <3
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You never intended for it to go this far. You’ve always teased the two of them for being practically twins — best friends separated at birth. Clark is all broad shoulders, thick arms with veins running along his biceps like winding rivers, and sweet, shy smiles. Scott is marginally leaner, but you’ve seen the taut muscles of his forearms when he’s at the gym, and he’s got the sharp tongue and mean mouth to make up for it.
Somehow, the two of them have made their friendship work — and you were lucky enough to be brought into the loop.
It started with a comment about how they looked so much alike. Scott adamantly denies this and Clark only gets flustered when you insist that they’re both equally handsome. For some reason, it ends up with your face pressed against the bed and your hips raised to meet them.
Scott pushes you down into the sheets, your face mushed into his mattress, where you’re suddenly breathing in his scent. It’s a heady, masculine cologne that engulfs your senses, intoxicating in a way that only Scott could be. Your heart nearly beats out of your ribcage because you can’t see them. The only way you know that it’s Scott’s hands on your hips, positioning you in front of him, is because Clark is whispering in mild irritation, “This isn’t right, Scott. This is so disrespectful to her.”
“You gonna stop me, Kent? You’re telling me you haven’t been imagining what this pretty pussy looks like all this time?” Scott chuckles, tracing a finger up your bare thighs beneath your skirt. He flips the flimsy fabric up over your ass. “And a thong too — Christ, you’re such a slut, sweetheart.”
“Scott,” Clark chides again and you can imagine the disappointed frown marring his face.
Scott chooses to ignore him, instead focusing on how your pussy’s started leaking already. You can feel your slick folds, even more so when Scott digs his thumb in, pushing the thin string into your moist cunt. “She’s so wet already,” he groans, “you’ve been waiting for this, you little minx. Always fucking pushing our buttons when all you wanted was our cocks, is that it?”
Your denial is muffled even as you turn your face to catch a glimpse of them, a peek at Clark’s guilty face tainted with the greedy way he drinks in your pussy, a look at Scott licking his lips as he pushes his thumb just slightly deeper.
“Why don’t we play a little game?” Scott hums, hooking his finger on your panties as he drags it down your thighs. He doesn’t even bother removing it completely, lets it hang off your right ankle as if to say, you asked for this by wearing this.
“W-what game?” You manage to rasp.
“We’re going to have you figure out who’s who.” Scott murmurs, brushing your hair away from your shoulder as he presses his palm between your shoulder blades again. “We’re both going to fuck you, take turns sinking our cocks into this pretty pussy of yours, and you have to guess whose cock it is.”
Your heart lurches into your throat.
“And if you can get it right five times in a row, you’ll get to cum. How does that sound?”
Like heaven, you traitorous pussy says. Your brain and heart are in a losing battle when you can feel the warm pulse between your legs.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Scott chuckles. “You ready?”
You quickly learn that their similarities extend to the length between their legs. The first time one of them pushes their cock inside, all you can focus on is the burn. They’re big, bigger than anyone else you’ve ever had. This person doesn’t do shallow thrusts, they bury themselves completely inside you until you can feel their hips against your ass.
“I don’t—” you choke when they pull out and thrust back in, hard. “How am I supposed to know? I’ve never been with either of you,” you whine pathetically, words crumbling into moans as your pussy stretches around the girth.
“You know us, should know our cocks too.” Scott’s voice is a little breathless.
“Fuck, this is Scott. You’re fucking me,” you whimper.
“Good girl, but I made it too easy for you. That one doesn’t count.”
“But I guessed correctly!”
The cock slips out of you with a lewd pop, your own juices leaking down the back of your thighs as you shakily prop yourself up on all fours. You try to turn but the squeezing hand on your hip stops you.
Then you feel them — two fingers tentatively dragging up the slick down your legs, a subtle little moan, as they spread the sticky mess back up to your pussy. The fingers trace your pussy lips, the carefulness in the movements signal awe, as if you’re being observed like a specimen.
The fingers ease into you, thick, wiggling until you feel their knuckles against your folds.
“Now whose fingers are these, sweetheart?”
Long, long fingers. They brush up against that spongy part deep inside you that has you twitching. A shudder wracks through your body as they spread said fingers, stretching you out to see inside of your pussy.
“Scott…?” You guess meekly. This has to be a trick question.
Smack! You jolt forward, more so from the shock of the slap on your ass. The area where the hand landed throbs dully with the sting. “Wrong.”
God, fuck. Tears prick your eyes. Whether it’s from the intensity of the situation or the fact that the people pleaser in you has failed, you can’t tell.
“Clark,” you moan as he slowly pushes his fingers in and out of you.
“Good girl,” Clark coos sweetly, “doing so good for me, honey. You’re dripping all over my fingers. Making such a mess, it’s going down to my wrist.”
Your heart beats against your ribs, guilt gnawing at your bones. “‘M sorry, didn’t mean to.”
Clark shushes you with another deep push of his fingers into your quivering cunt. “It’s okay, no need to be sorry. You’re so pretty for us, leaking all over like this. Just means you like us too much.”
“I do, I do,” you agree numbly.
“We’re going to, um, put—”
“We’re going to fuck you again now,” Scott interrupts, you imagine the roll of his eyes at Clark who would just press his lips together. “Try and focus.”
The cock that slides into you next… feels exactly the same. Same length, same girth, same fucking burn. Your frustration builds in your chest into a vexed whine that slips past your lips.
Another slap on your ass that catches you off guard. “Focus,” Scott barks, but you can hear the smirk in his voice.
You do, you’re trying. The cock fucks deep inside you moved in a slow, steady rhythm to the beat of your heart. All you can think about is the delicious stretch that fuels the spark that’s been lit between your legs.
It feels damn good. Whoever this is knows how to find those little spots inside of you, your trigger points that hurtle you forward into a delirium of pleasure. Every thrust feels intentional. Every thrust is specially made for you.
“C-Clark,” you breathlessly whimper.
The cock stutters inside you, an interruption to the tempo. Your heart drops to your gut with fear.
“There you go,” Scott grunts, “see, you’re getting the good hang of it. Now we’re really ready to play.”
Ready to play— “Haven’t you been counting?” You snap, a little more irritated than you intended.
“You have to get it right five times in a row. If you mess up, we’re restarting the count.”
We. Scott’s twisted little game and he’s dragging poor, sweet Clark into this.
They take turns soaking their cocks with your cunt. Every time one of them enters you, the burn starts all over again. You’re stretching around their cocks, pussy molding to the shape of them, loosening slowly until you’re moaning with each dip into your little hole. You have bruises in the size of their fingertips on your hips, rough grips on you every time they fuck deep inside of you.
But Scott doesn’t relent on his game, no matter how close you get. They drive into you like men starved, moans bouncing off the walls like a symphony. The pleasure builds and nearly crests, each time you even come close to guessing five, you always somehow manage to get the last one wrong.
“A-are you doing this on purpose?” You pant, hair a tangled sweaty mess on your face.
“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Scott says coolly.
A gasp wrenches out of your throat. “Have you just been telling me I’ve been getting it wrong to keep going?”
“You calling us liars, sweetheart?” Scott slaps your ass again, his handprint tingling in the spots he’s been hitting you. “You cum when we want you to cum.”
“M-maybe we should let her, Scott,” Clark groans and you know it’s his cock pushing deep inside you again. He’s gentler between the two of them, but you can feel his self-control faltering when he fucks you a little deeper, a little harder each time. “This isn’t right. She doesn’t want this.”
“Your mouth’s been saying no, Clark, but god, sweetheart, you should see him right now. He’s enjoying this premium pussy if yours. Trying so hard not to moan. Doesn’t she feel so nice and tight? Perfect little toy.”
A moan climbs out of Clark’s chest, deep and guttural. “Perfect. Perfect toy,” he echoes dumbly. Your cunt clenches around him and he whimpers. “You’re squeezing me so tight, honey. Feels so good. You’re so good to me.”
“And you—” Scott starts with a pinch of your ass, “you want this as much as we do. Pussy’s gaping now, ready for our cocks. We stretched you out so good, didn’t we? Tighten up that cunt for us. I want to feel it squeeze around my cock when I fuck you next.”
You’re nothing if not obedient, ready to please him — them — because Clark’s fingers sink deeper into your waist as he feels you clamp down around him.
“You’re so tight,” Clark rasps, “she feels so good.”
“‘Course she feels good,” Scott huffs as he circles you and lifts you to prop up on all fours. He taps the head of his cock, leaking with both his and your arousal, against your lips. “She was made for us.”
Your jaw instinctively drops open and Scott slides him along your tongue.
“Just like that,” he hisses, “you taste us, sweetheart?” You can only groan in response.
Scott uses your throat for a while, fucking your mouth by grabbing your head. Your tongue drags along the underside of his cock, eliciting a shudder out of him before he yanks you off again.
“Too close,” he gasps, “I want to cum inside your cunt instead.”
You don’t know how long you stay there, game nearly long forgotten if it weren’t for Scott taunting you over again, laughing when you get it “wrong.” At this point you don’t know the difference, answers tumbling from your lips in a garbled mess.
Every time you get close, whoever it is drags their cock out of you. They bring you to the edge, so close to the peak, only to drag you under again. You’re crying and babbling, begging them to put you out of this misery.
It’s like being trapped in a maze with no exit, each dead end another point of pleasure that you can’t seem to reach.
Scott shows no mercy, only coos, “Come on, sweetheart, whose cock is in you right now? Why don’t you use that pretty little head of yours to guess?”
You sputter incoherently, thighs shaking with the weight of your desire. You’re so close, the burning between your legs intensifying to a point where you can practically taste your orgasm. But it may just be delirium — it’s like your climax now feels unfamiliar on your tongue.
“Let me finish her, Scott, she's crying. I can finish her,” Clark tries to plea on your behalf.
The cock that’s driving hard and fast abusing your pussy abruptly disappears as Clark stumbles backward, Scott pushing him out of the way. “No, pretty baby can't use her head to figure out who's fucking her, she needs to learn her lesson. We’re gonna keep testing her until she gets it right.”
“Scott, please.”
“Use your head, you can do it.”
Through your cockdrunk haze, you only begin to decipher the difference.
It’s not the shape, nor the size, because they’re too close. Too similar. But the way they move, how hard they’re holding you.
Scott is quick and dirty, chasing quick satisfaction for himself in a way that bullies your cunt into submission. Each thrust of his hips is about pace and a test of self-control for him.
But Clark listens to how you whine and moan, drives himself deep in a slow burn that drags out the pleasure in your core. His hands on your body are firm, but not enough to harm.
Scott guides the game and gets you close, but it’s Clark who delivers the final blow.
“Clark. It’s Clark!”
“Fuck, she got it right, Kent. She can finally cum now, do you want her to cum?”
Clark’s face is flushed a deep red, veins on his neck pulsing with his resistance. His jaw is clenched tight, teeth kissing as he hisses when you squeeze around him to Scott’s words.
“Yes, please, gosh — feels so good. Wanna cum. Wanna see her cum.”
“Flip her over.”
He doesn’t miss a beat, pulling out of you for barely a second only to turn you on your back and plunge his cock back inside you. He folds your knees into your body as he fucks into you with another needy moan.
“Feels even better like this,” Clark rasps, “I can see everything. You look so pretty, honey.”
“Clark’s so sweet on you, isn’t he?” Scott chuckles, his fist finding his cock. “Pretty girl deserves some pretty treats. Why don’t you give it to her, Clark? Cream inside her. Look at her, she wants it.”
Clark’s eyes find yours but you can barely keep them open. Not with how good Clark’s giving it to you, his fat cock stretching out every inch of your pussy as he leans down and presses you in deeper into the mattress. You can see the vein on his forehead pulse, control fighting against his need to devour.
“Can I, honey? Can I cum inside you?” He asks you. So soft, so sweet. So desperate to give you what you need that it makes you whine as you arch off the bed.
All you can manage is a nod before Clark is shooting his cum inside you, landing warm and sticky, clinging onto your walls. Your pussy squeezes around him, pulsing like a second heartbeat as you tumble down your own pleasure.
His breaths are hot against your neck as his hips jerk with the last spills into your pussy. You can feel it beginning to leak out from where the two of you are joined, dribbling down your ass and onto the sheets.
“Alright, Kent, gonna need you to move,” Scott mutters, using his own body to shoulder Clark out of the way.
Clark’s legs can barely hold himself up, the weight of his climax still hanging off his shoulders. His chest heaves with labored breaths as he watches Scott position himself in front of you, sandwiching himself between your parted legs.
His thumb pries your pussy open from the lips to see Clark’s cum seeping out. With a hiss, he uses the head of his own cock to nudge that cum back into your cunt and fucks it back into you. “Shit, you feel so good, sweetheart. Clark’s cum is so warm inside you, the perfect lube to fuck you.”
“S-so sore, Scott,” you whimper, the ache between your legs throbbing.
“I know, baby, but I need to cum too. I won’t take long.”
And he delivers — it only takes him a few more thrusts, every time he enters, he punctuates it with a praise. Fucking beautiful. Look at you. Gorgeous tits. Then he’s finishing inside you and you feel as if you’re about to burst with how much the two have filled you up. Your entire body feels like jell-o, not a single bone or muscle to move you.
Clark swipes the sweaty strands of hair from your face and presses a kiss to your forehead. Scott drags his cock out of you with a heavy groan.
The two of them watch in sick, rapt fascination as both their cums leak onto the bed. By this time, Scott’s mattress is a mess of stains — your arousal drenching the sheets and the cum that’s slowly pooling at the edge.
Even so, Scott only grins, “Think you can tell which cum is whose?”
SAM WHAT THE FUCK THIS MADE ME BUZZY GOOD GODDDDDDD. now i cant function properly throughout the day. i will be thinking about this. holy fucking shit.
also i will always enable your thoughts of cock guessing.
