o1. THIS BLOG RUNS ON MY TIME. most of what you see is queued, because i don't enjoy staring at this website twenty-four hours a day. i update things when i notice they need updating + replies aren't based on who sent something first, they're based on whether i've got the time and energy to answer. if we're close, chances are you'll hear from me sooner. don't mistake silence for disinterest.
o2. MULTIFANDOM. MULTIVERSE. crossovers are welcome if they make sense; i'm more interested in chemistry than forcing interactions that go nowhere. also this blog is strictly 20+, so if you're underage, this isn't the place for you. nothing personal, i'm just not interested in blurring that line.
o3. i don't manufacture ideas. i don't sit down and force myself to come up with a new verse because people expect one. if inspiration shows up, i'll write, if it doesn't, i'm not going to pretend otherwise. i'd rather post something i'm proud of than something rushed.
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o6. anything that needs a content warning will be tagged as 'trigger (cw)'. curate your own dashboard, i don't expect anyone to manage mine, so i won't ask you to.
oh i like this question. finally something worth answering.
but first things first; people keep slapping nightwing on chris like it’s a default setting, and i get it, surface level: charm, energy, that “sunshine” vibe, it’s an easy comparison... lazy, though.
people default to nightwing for Chris because it’s the easiest read: loud energy, charismatic, naturally pulls people in, but that comparison falls apart the second you stop looking at aesthetics and actually READ THE COMICS.
dick grayson isn’t just “sunshine older brother and first robin.” he’s one of DC’s biggest emotional punching bags imo: circus trauma, raised into vigilantism, A LOT OF ABUSE (he'd been s/ad a few times), the glue of the family, the one who holds it together while quietly getting wrecked. that role comes with layers of repression, responsibility, and a kind of emotional exhaustion that chris just… doesn’t embody and that matters, because when people say “he’s nightwing,” they’re usually only referencing the mask, the charm, the humor—not the weight behind it, and if you ignore the weight, the comparison is shallow.
now, if we’re being brutally honest? nick actually aligns more with that nightwing archetype than chris does; not a perfect match, but closer. there’s more control there, more awareness, more of that “i’ll handle it” energy AND EVEN THE GYMNASTICS, but still, i wouldn’t lock him into that label either, because again, none of them fully carry what dick represents.
let’s not forget he’s fucking impossible to embody. there’s no damn fancast that captures the essence of this character.
so yeah, my stance stays the same: none of the triplets are nightwing. forcing one of them into that role just because it’s popular is weak analysis.
now, placements with actual reasoning:
nick = tim drake
this one’s almost too easy. nick has that same sharpness; less about chaos, more about control and understanding the room (throwing a few jabs or funny quips every now and then). plus, tim is literally queer and I LIVE FOR IT.
matt = jason todd
reserved, emotionally layered, not as outwardly expressive (well, depends on his surroundings and the people he's with) but way more intense under the surface. matt gives that same closed-off, heavy energy.
chris = wally west
this is where the “sunshine” comparison actually fits without forcing it. wally’s expressive, impulsive, funny, emotionally transparent, and brings lightness without carrying that same burden dick does. his energy feels natural, not like something he has to maintain for everyone else.
oh i like this question. finally something worth answering.
but first things first; people keep slapping nightwing on chris like it’s a default setting, and i get it, surface level: charm, energy, that “sunshine” vibe, it’s an easy comparison... lazy, though.
people default to nightwing for Chris because it’s the easiest read: loud energy, charismatic, naturally pulls people in, but that comparison falls apart the second you stop looking at aesthetics and actually READ THE COMICS.
dick grayson isn’t just “sunshine older brother and first robin.” he’s one of DC’s biggest emotional punching bags imo: circus trauma, raised into vigilantism, A LOT OF ABUSE (he'd been s/ad a few times), the glue of the family, the one who holds it together while quietly getting wrecked. that role comes with layers of repression, responsibility, and a kind of emotional exhaustion that chris just… doesn’t embody and that matters, because when people say “he’s nightwing,” they’re usually only referencing the mask, the charm, the humor—not the weight behind it, and if you ignore the weight, the comparison is shallow.
now, if we’re being brutally honest? nick actually aligns more with that nightwing archetype than chris does; not a perfect match, but closer. there’s more control there, more awareness, more of that “i’ll handle it” energy AND EVEN THE GYMNASTICS, but still, i wouldn’t lock him into that label either, because again, none of them fully carry what dick represents.
let’s not forget he’s fucking impossible to embody. there’s no damn fancast that captures the essence of this character.
so yeah, my stance stays the same: none of the triplets are nightwing. forcing one of them into that role just because it’s popular is weak analysis.
now, placements with actual reasoning:
nick = tim drake
this one’s almost too easy. nick has that same sharpness; less about chaos, more about control and understanding the room (throwing a few jabs or funny quips every now and then). plus, tim is literally queer and I LIVE FOR IT.
matt = jason todd
reserved, emotionally layered, not as outwardly expressive (well, depends on his surroundings and the people he's with) but way more intense under the surface. matt gives that same closed-off, heavy energy.
chris = wally west
this is where the “sunshine” comparison actually fits without forcing it. wally’s expressive, impulsive, funny, emotionally transparent, and brings lightness without carrying that same burden dick does. his energy feels natural, not like something he has to maintain for everyone else.
it was supposed to be part of her personality, it just didn’t really get the chance to show since i ended up cutting the project halfway through, but my plan was for that “petty” trait (and other little habits she has) to come out more in future chapters, where we’d actually get to know her and her personal life better.
guys 😭 if 😭 you 😭 receive 😭 a 😭 file 😭 named 😭 chris 😭 sturniolo 😭 whimpering 😭 audio 😭 4K 😭 do 😭 NOT 😭 download 😭 it 😭 the 😭 file 😭 is 😭 a 😭 virus 😭 that 😭 adds 😭 crying 😭 emojis 😭 after 😭 every 😭 word 😭
even at 2300 hours, when most personnel were supposed to be in bunks or on minimal watch, the surveillance grid stayed awake. dozens of high-definition cameras; some fixed, some panning slowly on motorized mounts, but all of them blanketed every corridor, every common area, every inch of the training grounds.
red indicator lights blinked like distant stars in the dimness, recording 24/7 for “security and training review.” no blind spots. no privacy. the feeds routed straight to the central ops room, where a skeleton crew of two analysts rotated shifts, half-watching grainy screens while sipping lukewarm coffee. anyone could pull up any camera at any time. anyone could stumble across footage later.
matt knew this better than anyone. hell, he’d designed half the system himself, yet here he was, following y/n into the training grounds anyway, the heavy blast door sealing behind them with a pneumatic hiss that felt louder than usual.
the overhead lights had been dimmed to night mode—only every third fixture glowing amber, turning the vast space into a cavern of long shadows. the rubberized floor still held the day’s heat, faintly sticky underfoot. the air carried the ghost of gunpowder and sweat. somewhere high on the far wall, a camera lens glinted as it completed its slow sweep.
y/n stopped in the center of the open mat area, turned, and looked up at him. her own face was flushed from earlier adrenaline, lips parted, eyes bright with something dangerous.
“sit down.”
matt’s throat worked. he instinctively glanced towards the nearest camera, mounted high above the climbing wall, its tiny red light steady and unblinking. his stomach tightened, a flicker of real unease cutting through the haze of reluctant arousal.
“there are cameras,” he said, voice low, almost a warning to himself.
“i know.” y/n’s tone was calm. cruelly so. “that’s the point.”
his jaw flexed, humiliation already simmering beneath his skin, now laced with something sharper—risk. exposure, perhaps. the knowledge that if the night-shift analyst glanced at the right monitor at the wrong second, they’d see their cold, untouchable leader lowering himself to the floor on command.
he sat anyway.
cross-legged, the way she’d been forced to earlier. the position pulled his tactical pants tight across his thighs, making his posture feel smaller when his hands rested on his knees for a heartbeat before she spoke again.
“behind your back. clasp them.”
he obeyed: wrists crossed at the base of his spine, shoulders forced open and his chest rose faster now, each breath visible under the black compression shirt. sweat had started to bead again at his temples, dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead and his ears were already pink.
y/n stepped closer. slow. deliberate. the soft soles of her boots made almost no sound. she crouched in front of him, close enough that he could smell the faint citrus of her shampoo mixed with the day’s exertion. her eyes flicked up—deliberately—to the camera above them, then back to his face.
“they’re watching,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “or they could be. maybe some bored tech scrolling feeds, seeing you like this: on your knees soon. hard, begging. imagine the replay tomorrow. imagine someone recognizing your build, your posture, even with your face turned away.”
matt’s breath hitched audibly, his pupils blew wide and a visible shudder ran through his shoulders. the front of his pants was already tented—painfully obvious now that he was seated, legs parted just enough. pre-cum had started to darken the fabric in a small, humiliating patch.
“on your knees,” she said.
he rose slowly. awkwardly. the shift made his trapped erection rub against the seam of his pants, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stifle the sound that tried to escape. once on his knees, hands still locked behind him, he was forced to look up at her. the camera angle caught him perfectly—profile lit by the amber glow, face flushed deep red from hairline to collar, lips parted on shallow pants.
y/n circled behind him, her fingers trailing over the nape of his neck, teasing, enjoying the sight of those goosebumps erupting down his arms when she leaned down to whisper in his ear.
“you’re leaking already,” she couldn't help but giggle. “can feel it through the fabric, how pathetic! the great matt sturniolo, dripping like a teenager because someone finally made him crack.”
a low, broken groan slipped out before he could stop it. his hips jerked forward involuntarily, seeking friction that wasn’t there. the movement pulled his shoulders back harder; the strain in his arms made his biceps flex and tremble.
she moved in front of him again, one boot nudged his knee wider, then wider still. the view felt so obscene, and the way he was exposed to a camera that would capture every inch of it—the way his thighs shook, the obvious outline of his cock straining upward, the damp spot spreading... it was majestic.
she crouched and her hand drifted down, not touching yet, just hovering close enough that he could feel the heat of her palm through his pants.
“beg,” she said. “loud enough that the mic might pick it up.”
his eyes squeezed shut for a second. shame burned through him—hot, liquid, twisting low in his gut. when he opened them again, they were glassy.
“please,” he rasped. voice cracked. “touch me. please, y/n.”
“louder.”
“please—fuck—touch me. i need it. i’m—i’m fucking leaking for you. please.”
the words echoed faintly off the high ceiling. somewhere, a camera motor whirred as it adjusted focus.
y/n finally palmed him. firm. slow. dragging her hand up the full length through the fabric, thumb circling the wet head. matt’s head fell forward; a choked moan tore out of him. his hips bucked into her touch in desperate, helpless manner. sweat rolled down the side of his face, then dripped onto the mat.
she squeezed once. hard. his whole body jerked, a strangled “ah—” escaping before he clamped his mouth shut. tears—actual tears—gathered at the corners of his eyes from the overwhelming mix of humiliation, need, and fear of being seen.
“look at the camera,” she ordered softly.
he didn’t want to. his pride screamed no.
but his body obeyed before his mind could catch up. head tilting back, eyes lifting to the blinking red light high on the wall. the angle exposed the long line of his throat, the way his adam’s apple bobbed with every ragged swallow. his face was wrecked—cheeks scarlet, mouth slack, pupils so dilated the blue was nearly gone.
y/n kept stroking him. torturously slow. letting him feel every ridge of her fingers, every deliberate press. his cock throbbed under her hand, twitching with each pass. more pre-cum soaked through; she could feel the heat of it, the way the fabric clung wetly now.
“they’re seeing this,” she whispered. “they’re seeing their leader broken. on his knees. crying for it. dripping like a desperate slut.”
matt shuddered violently. a tear slipped free—tracked down his cheek, caught the light. his breathing turned ragged, almost sobs. “please—y/n—i can’t—i’m gonna—”
“no.” she released him completely.
his hips chased her hand. a pitiful, involuntary thrust into empty air. a low whine built in his throat.
she stepped back. “time’s up.”
matt stayed frozen on his knees. chest heaving. cock straining painfully against soaked fabric. face streaked with sweat and one tear track. eyes glassy, unfocused. the camera kept rolling when y/n walked to the door without looking back until her hand found the handle.
“if anyone asks why you’re limping tomorrow,” she said quietly, “tell them you pulled something in training.”
matt remained under the cold, unblinking eye of the lens, knowing the footage was already saved somewhere in the system; knowing it could surface at any moment. knowing he’d still report for duty at 0600, still bark orders, still pretend none of it had happened.
but it had, and the cameras had seen everything.
chat, i think i lowkey forgot how to write smut like a decent person without seeming robotic and dull, HELP.
⤷ in which . . . you and matt argue about which one of you is better in bed, going so far that one of you suggests putting it to the test.
⤷ warnings . . . very heavy smut, enemies to lovers trope, unprotected sex, making out, cunnilingus, dirty talk, use of pet names, degradation and praise mix, blowjob, handjob, switch!matt, (mostly dom) matt is reallyy cocky, multiple orgasms/rounds, overstimulation, humiliation kink, playful/sexual banter, riding, rough sex, light choking, teasing, missionary, neck kissing/sucking. *everything is done WITH CONSENT*
⤷ written by . . . @/delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)
*NOT PROOFREAD*
you really didn’t expect to end up in this position. if you were told 10 minutes ago that matthew sturniolo, the boy who you’re supposed to envy, is currently driving his cock into you so hard that it results in your body shaking and sinking into his sheets as he pounds into you mercilessly, along with a multitude of desperate moans escaping through your lips…you’d probably just laugh right in their face.
you wouldn’t have even thought that would become reality.
it started simple. nick had invited you over for a movie night, and you knew you’d have to see matt as well, but your plan tonight was just to ignore him, and focus on having fun and spending time with nick.
unfortunately for you, operation cold-shoulder went south faster than the speed of light, all because nick and chris left you and matt alone together in the house, after they left to go buy snacks for your movie night.
you and matt. alone. together. the perfect recipe for chaos.
you’re sitting on the couch, mindlessly scrolling on your phone, when suddenly you hear a familiar voice break the silence in the house.
“what’re you doing?” matt mutters, entering the living room. his eyes lock with yours, brunette hair swooping effortlessly over them, his hood slightly frizzing up the top. he plops down on the couch, just a few feet away from you, but still keeping his distance.
“nothing that concerns you.” you mumble almost incoherently back, not even daring to bat an eye at him. you can’t deny how attractive matt is, no matter how much you claim to hate his guts. you wish you could think otherwise—but it’s just not possible. you’d never admit any of this to his face, though.
matt lets out a quiet huff at your response, leaning back against the couch cushions like he’s settling in for something.“good to know you’re still as pleasant as ever,” he mutters.
you roll your eyes, finally glancing at him for half a second before looking back at your phone. “good to know you’re still as annoying as ever.”
“annoying?” he repeats, brows lifting slightly. “that’s the best insult you’ve got tonight?”
you sigh and put your phone down, finally glancing at him. “don’t you have anything better to do? i mean, it’s friday night.”
“what are you implying?” matt smirks, raising an eyebrow at you.
you lean back into the couch cushions, crossing your arms. “i’m implying that you’re usually out with some girl right now. isn’t that like…your weekly routine?”
his expression shifts into something amused, almost lazy. “wow. someone’s been keeping track.”
“please,” you scoff. “you make it hard not to notice. there’s a new girl practically every week.”
matt tilts his head slightly, studying you now instead of looking annoyed like you expected. “and that bothers you…why?”
“it doesn’t bother me,” you snap quickly.
“sounds like it does.”
you roll your eyes dramatically. “i just think it’s funny.”
“funny?”
“yeah,” you shrug. “the way you walk around acting like god’s gift to women.” a quiet laugh leaves his mouth. not offended. entertained.
“you think that’s what i do?”
“don’t you?” you shoot back. “you’re the one who goes out with a different girl every night.”
he leans forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees now, his gaze fixed on you. “and what exactly do you think happens on those nights?” he asks, voice calmer than before.
you shrug again, trying to look uninterested even though his attention suddenly feels a little too intense. “i don’t know,” you say. “i assume you’re doing what every other guy like you does.”
“a guy like me?” he repeats.
“yeah. cocky. full of himself. thinks he’s amazing in bed because a few girls told him he was.”
“a few?” he echoes.
you wave a hand dismissively. “whatever.”
for a moment he just stares at you, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re serious. then he lets out a quiet laugh and leans back again. “you’ve got a lot of opinions for someone who has no idea what she’s talking about.”
your eyes narrow immediately. “oh really?”
“really,” he says simply.
“so what, you’re actually good in bed?” you challenge.
“never said that.”
“you didn’t have to.”
he shrugs. “but if you’re curious, yeah. i’d say so.”
your stomach flips at the bluntness of it, but you refuse to let him see that. instead you scoff. “sure you are.”
his eyes flick back to yours instantly. “you don’t believe me?”
“not really,” you say flatly.
he leans forward again, slower this time.
“why not?”
“because guys like you always exaggerate,” you reply. “it’s basically a personality trait.”
his jaw tightens slightly. “guys like me.”
“yeah.”
there’s a beat of silence. then he speaks again, quieter now.“you don’t know anything about me, sweetheart.”
you laugh dryly. “i know enough.”
“do you?”
“yeah,” you say. “i know you think you’re amazing at everything.”
he tilts his head. “not everything.”
“oh please.”
“but i am pretty confident in that department,” he says calmly.
you roll your eyes again. “of course you are.” another pause settles between you, the air suddenly heavier than it was before. matt studies your face for a second longer before speaking. “you’re acting like you know better.”
“maybe i do.”
his brows lift slightly. “you do?”
“maybe,” you repeat.
he leans a little closer now, close enough that the teasing edge in his voice feels different. more serious. “so you think you’d be better?”
the question catches you off guard. “that’s not what i said.”
“sounds like it.” his lips press together like he’s trying not to smile.
“so then prove me wrong,” you challenge suddenly. the words come out before you can stop them. shit, you knew he wasn’t going to back down.
his eyes sharpen instantly. “prove you wrong.”
“yeah,” you say, trying to sound unfazed even though your heart just sped up.
“how exactly do you expect me to do that?”
you shrug, attempting to play it off. “i don’t know. seems like you’re the expert.” for a second he just stares at you. really stares. then he leans back against the couch again, slow and deliberate. a small smirk appears on his face.
“careful,” he says quietly. his eyes meet yours again. “you might end up regretting that challenge.”
you raise your chin slightly. “doubt it.”
the smirk widens just a little. the room suddenly feels smaller. your pulse pounds in your ears. still, you hold his gaze.
“alright then,” matt starts, shifting closer to you on the couch. oh my god, was the only thought repeating like a broken record in your head in that moment. “i’ll prove you wrong.” he murmurs, confidence creeping through his voice, and the determined glint in his eyes.
you’ve just entered yourself in a game you’ve never played before, a fire you can’t put out, a wave you’ve never surfed. and yet, you’re determined to remain unfazed. although, it doesn’t seem to last for long.
before you can react, matt’s hand moves to your waist and he pulls you up from the couch. the movement is sudden enough that you stumble slightly into him. “matt—”
“relax,” he mutters, already guiding you toward the hallway.
“where are we going?”
he glances back over his shoulder. “somewhere with less distractions.” your stomach flips when you realize where he’s leading you.
his room.
“what if nick and chris come back?” you ask, even though you don’t pull away.
“they won’t be back yet,” matt says simply.
you’re not sure how he knows that, but the calm certainty in his voice makes it hard to argue. he pushes the door open and steps inside, pulling you with him before shutting it behind you.
you don’t even have time to process his movements before his hands are on you again. they roam your body adventurously as his lips suddenly crash onto yours, moving with a passion you didn’t even know he had.
you gasp into his mouth as he backs you up against his bed, laying you down swiftly, his lips not once leaving yours. your tongues begin to clash, you feel his hand travel up to the side of your neck, a small groan leaving his mouth as he intensifies the kiss, tilting his head for more access.
he begins pecking light kisses down your neck, occasionally stopping in one spot to suck on your skin, making his mark. he lifts his head, hovering over you as you lay beneath him, completely at his mercy.
“last chance,” matt taunts. “last chance to back out, or just give up now.” he smirks, and gosh—his cockiness makes your stomach twist.
“i’m not backing out.” you huff, which only makes him snicker.
“yeah? y’scared i’m gonna be better?” he teases you once more, already beginning to slide his hoodie and undershirt off, leaving him completely shirtless above you.
“oh please matt, you’re not gonna make me feel shit,” you laugh, almost humorlessly. “i’m only doing this so you feel humbled.” you fire back at him.
although, you both know that’s far from the truth. you’re already doubting your own words, feeling the weight of the contradiction that’s about to occur.
“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” matt murmurs, kneeling in between your legs, as you lay your head on his pillow, looking up at him. “you’re confident, i like it,” he smiles, hands sliding to the hem of your pants, toying with it in a teasing manner. “but your body betrays you, love.” he whispers wickedly. you hate how soaked his words make you, how much he has you wrapped around his finger.
matt begins undressing you completely, throwing your clothes aside carelessly. he suddenly parts your legs, his head dipping down between them. “fuckin’ soaked, i knew it.” he chuckles, kissing your inner thighs.
and before you know it, his tongue delves straight into your soaked cunt, your body jolts in surprise. he finds your clit, sucking on it like there’s no tomorrow, getting lost in your wetness. you feel his stubble scratching lightly against your thighs as he works his mouth against your pussy, flicking his tongue with expertise, hitting the perfect spots.
you can’t keep your stubborn act on for much longer, your hand flies to your mouth to prevent your moans from slipping out. as much as you wanted this, you knew that he wouldn’t shut up about getting an authentic reaction from you.
but, you just can’t hold it in.
“oh—oh fuck—matt!” you whimper as his tongue moves faster. his thumb finds your clit, he begins circling it as his mouth continues to move against you. you feel him laugh quietly against your pussy, the vibrations of it adding to the pleasure.
he was just waiting for you to fall apart for him.
you gasp as your orgasm hits you harder than you expect, you release all over matt’s face, still buried in you. matt groans, licking and devouring every last drop of your release, before lifting his head, a cocky smirk planted on his face.
“still think i’m an amateur?” matt looks down at you, catching your breath.
“fuck you.” you breathe out, that only makes matt smile more.
you suddenly sit up, pushing matt down onto the same spot you were laying. he looks at you with anticipation, and even a bit of amusement.
“this’ll be fun to witness.” he says, laying on his back, waiting for you to make your move. you ignore his comment and undo his belt hastily, shoving his jeans down and pulling them off.
his bulge is visible through his boxers, it’s as tempting as ever. he catches you staring, and sits up on his elbows slightly. “like what you see?”
“just—shut up.” you roll your eyes, pushing him back down and slowly peeling his boxers back, pulling them down his ankles. his cock springs out, and you don’t hesitate to wrap your hand around his length, stroking his tip teasingly, before attaching your lips to it.
matt hisses and you continue stroking him, your tongue simultaneously stimulating his tip. “fuck,” he groans desperately, chest rising and falling quicker he’d ever care to admit.
you suddenly back away, removing your hands and mouth from him completely. “wha—“ matt starts, he’s quickly interrupted by you climbing onto his lap, suddenly sinking down onto him, his cock now buried deep inside you. you both moan and react to the stretch, your hips begin to move slightly.
“shit, sweetheart.” matt lets out a needy sound, one hand traveling to your hip, guiding your movement, the other going to your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. “suuuchh a fuckin’ good girl…makin’ me feel so good…” he praises breathlessly.
another desperate moan escapes your mouth, you throw your head back in pleasure and ride him faster, eager to reach your climax. his hand goes down to your throat as your head tilts back, your tits bounce as you move quicker against his cock.
it feels euphoric—his cock inside of you. those were words you never thought you’d even formulate in your mind.
“tired already?” matt chuckles as your movements slow down. you roll your eyes and huff at his taunting.
“matt!” you gasp as he grabs your hips and flips you over onto your back, positioning himself on top of you, and once again—driving his cock into you almost immediately. “oh—fuck—matt, right there!” you whimper out. matt’s hips move with precision, but his thrusts grow faster with every passing moment.
“shiitt—takin’ me so good baby,” matt whispers. you can tell he’s also getting close. “what happened to all that confidence before, hm? nothing to say now, huh?” he says, watching as he practically fucks you dumb.
not long after, he cums inside of you with a long groan, triggering your orgasm as well. he eases out of you after a few seconds, collapsing on the bed beside you.
“so,” he huffs, catching his breath. “who won?”
“i think…i think it’s a tie…” you wipe sweat from your forehead, turning in bed to face him. matt locks eyes with you once again.
“guess we’ll need a tiebreaker then, yeah?” he smirks. you roll your eyes playfully and let out a laugh.
