Nel @star-light30 - Tumblr Blog

Nov 5, 2025

vamparchve-deactivated20260212

PROVE IT

( summary ) when a rant about her disappointing date turned into a challenge, jason realized just how thin the line between best friends and something far messier really was. she asked him to prove it—and jason never did anything halfway.

( genre ) smut with feelings.

( pairing ) jason todd x best friend!reader

( warnings ) 5.3k words. mature themes. rough makeouts. fingering. dry humping / rutting. pussy eating (very detailed). dirty talk. praise kink. rough language. friends-to-lovers tension. slight size kink. cum in pants. overstimulation. messy eater jason. thigh-gripping. hair-pulling. read responsibly.

⤷ ゛eli's thought thoughts ˎˊ˗ last few fics before kinktober :p also my friend proofread this and she's dyslexic so sorry if there’s errors or if it doesn’t make sense 😀 REMEMBER THIS WHEN READING OKAY 😔

Long after patrol had chewed him up and spit him out, Jason found himself standing at the familiar door of Y/n’s apartment. Not Roy’s place—hell no. Roy had some girl over, and the absolute last thing Jason wanted was to sit there pretending he couldn’t hear it through the walls. Y/n’s apartment was different. Safe. Predictable in all the ways he didn’t know he needed. She’d opened the door with that soft smile of hers, pulled him into a hug that lingered, wrinkled her nose at the way he smelled like sweat, smoke, and Gotham’s garbage, then ordered him into the shower like she owned the damn place(well she did). And, because it was her, he’d listened without protest. Afterward, she’d shoved a plate of food into his hands like she was personally responsible for keeping him alive.

Not that he’d ever say it aloud, but he liked the way she fussed over him. Jason Todd, six-foot-whatever, ex-Robin turned Red Hood, could snap a man’s spine in an alley without blinking—but when it came to Y/n scolding him, pushing at his chest, and reminding him to eat like she was his pint-sized general, he let her. There was something addictive about it. Something grounding. She was a whole head shorter and a couple (lot) pounds lighter, yet somehow she managed to boss him around like it was second nature. He liked it more than he should.

Now, sprawled out on her bed, Jason wore the soft cotton pajama shorts she’d bought him after realizing he crashed here more than his own place, paired with the hoodie he’d left behind months ago. It was his in name only—these days, it smelled faintly of her shampoo and whatever perfume clung to her skin. She wore it more than he did, and he pretended not to notice, but the truth was he liked knowing it wrapped around her when he wasn’t here.

She sat cross-legged across from him, balancing a steaming bowl of pasta in her lap. He had his own bowl, but unlike her, who was too busy unloading her disastrous night, Jason was actually eating. Every bite reminded him how freakishly good her cooking always turned out, like she’d cracked some secret recipe to comfort. She kept talking though, oblivious to the way he was hanging on every word, not because of the story, but because it was her voice filling the silence.

“It was terrible. Like, genuinely terrible. I don’t even know what I was thinking, Jay. Sure, he was handsome, but that’s where it ended. He has the personality of a wet rock. No hobbies. Barely a job. It’s like he’s just… existing, floating wherever the world shoves him. And then—oh my god—you’re not going to believe this—when we started talking about sex, which he brought up mind you, he asked what I liked. So I told him. I said I like when guys put my pleasure first. I mean, it’s not crazy, right? Just nice to feel taken care of. And you know what this absolute idiot said?” She set her fork down, eyes widening as though she still couldn’t believe it. “‘Oh, do you mean like eating a girl out? That’s unhygienic, I’d never do that.’” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Are you kidding me?”

Jason snorted around a mouthful of pasta. “Can I have yours?” he asked, already eyeing her bowl after finishing his.

She shoved it at him without hesitation, still too wrapped up in her rant to care, while Jason made quick work of it.

“Unhygienic?” she continued, her voice rising with disbelief. “I’m supposed to just shut up and take his dirty dick—which, let’s be honest, probably hasn’t seen real soap in weeks—in my mouth without complaint, but the second it’s his turn, suddenly it’s unsanitary? What the actual hell?”

Jason couldn’t help it; a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He loved her like this—animated, riled up, utterly unfiltered. He found himself watching the way her lips curved when she swore, the way her hands carved sharp shapes in the air.

“Where’d you find this guy? Sounds like a nut job,” he said, voice muffled around another bite.

She leveled him with a look. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” And then, without missing a beat, she leaned in, thumb swiping at the smear of sauce on the corner of his lips. Before he could even process it, she brought her thumb to her mouth and licked it off, as casual as if she’d done it a hundred times before.

Jason froze, a forkful of pasta halfway to his mouth. She just breezed past it, twirling noodles from the bowl now balanced on his lap, continuing her story like nothing had happened. But Jason’s chest felt tight, his thoughts spiraling in dangerous directions. He wanted, with a sudden urgency that scared him, to pull her closer and shut her up with his mouth, to show her exactly how “unhygienic” he could get if she gave him half the chance.

Instead, he swallowed hard, pretending his appetite hadn’t just shifted entirely from pasta to something far riskier.

“Honestly, men just find new ways to be disappointing every damn day,” she muttered, tossing her fork onto the nightstand before standing. The silk nightgown she wore caught the dim light from her bedside lamp, swishing against her thighs as she stretched. “You want a drink?”

Jason leaned back against the headboard, watching her with the kind of lazy scrutiny he hoped looked casual. “I’ll just have water,” he answered, his voice low, gravel still lingering from the smoke and city air he’d been inhaling all night. She nodded, padding barefoot across the room toward the kitchen. His eyes betrayed him, dropping without hesitation. The nightgown moved with her hips, smooth and fluid, clinging in places it had no business clinging. Jason squeezed his eyes shut the second she disappeared from sight, dragging a hand down his face like he could physically wipe the thoughts away.

Jesus Christ, Todd. Get a grip. This was Y/n. His best friend. The one person who put up with his crap without flinching, who ordered him into showers and fed him like he was something worth saving. She wasn’t supposed to be someone he looked at like that—wasn’t supposed to be the reason he lost focus, the reason his chest got tight and restless heat coiled in his stomach. He owed her better than that. He knew it. And yet, the image of her walking away lingered behind his eyelids, dangerous and tempting.

By the time she came back, Jason had schooled his expression into something neutral, forcing his shoulders to loosen like he hadn’t just been fighting himself in silence. She carried a tall glass of water in one hand and a small juice box in the other. He blinked at the sight, lips twitching despite his mood.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, nodding toward the juice box.

She plopped back onto the bed with a sigh, tucking her legs beneath her. “I got them for when Dami stays over, but then he looked at me like I’d insulted his ancestors and said he doesn’t drink apple juice. So now I’m stuck with a fridge full of these things.” She stabbed the straw through the foil with exaggerated irritation before taking a sip.

Jason shook his head, huffing out a laugh that was rough but real. “You and your strays,” he muttered, gathering both their empty bowls and setting them neatly on the nightstand. His body eased just a fraction, that familiar comfort sliding back in as he took the glass from her hand. The water was crisp and cold, a relief on his dry throat, and he downed it in two long gulps before realizing he’d emptied the entire thing. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, sighing like a man who’d just tasted heaven.

When he turned back, she was staring at him. Not just staring—judging. One brow arched, lips twitching like she was holding back a comment.

“What?” Jason grumbled, defensive out of habit, though the smirk tugging at her mouth already told him he’d walked right into whatever she was about to throw at him.

“You just drank that entire glass in, like, two seconds flat,” she said, incredulous.

Jason shrugged, leaning back against her pillows, stretching out like a cat that owned the place. “I was thirsty.”

“Jeez,” she muttered, shaking her head before taking another lazy sip of her juice. Then her eyes flicked to him again, “How big is your mouth?”

The comment hung there for a beat too long. Jason raised one eyebrow slowly, the corner of his mouth curving upward with deliberate suggestion. He didn’t even have to say anything—the look alone carried all the weight of the gutter his brain had already fallen into.

Her eyes widened a fraction before she groaned, rolling them dramatically. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Todd.” She laughed, smacking his knee lightly with the back of her hand, but the sound carried that edge of nervous energy, like maybe she realized too late how it sounded.

Jason didn’t push it, not out loud. But the thought stuck, looping in his head with an intensity that made his pulse jump. He forced himself to keep his face relaxed, only the faintest smirk betraying him, while inside his thoughts spiraled. Because yeah—his mouth was "big". And if she ever let him, he’d prove it in ways her useless date couldn’t even imagine.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked suddenly, tilting her head toward him with that deceptively sweet smile she always used when she was about to stir trouble.

Jason didn’t look up right away, still lazily running his tongue over his teeth, but when he did, his grin came quick and crooked. “You just did.”

She rolled her eyes so hard he thought she might strain something. “Can I ask another one? And if you say ‘you just did,’ I swear I will actually kick you in the crotch.”

That earned a quiet laugh from him, low and warm, curling at the edges like smoke. “Yeah, fine, okay. Shoot.” He turned his head fully now, meeting her eyes with that expectant glint that always made her feel like he was two steps ahead of her.

She hesitated—just a flicker—but then asked, “Do you find it unhygienic?”

Jason blinked. “What?”

“You know…” She shifted a little under his stare, pulling the juice box straw between her lips for courage before repeating herself. “Eating… that.”

Jason’s grin widened, wolfish and unbothered. “Eating pussy?”

Her nose wrinkled. “You’re so vulgar. But yes, Jason.”

He didn’t even flinch. “No. I don’t. I think that’s the one thing as a guy you’re supposed to overachieve in.” His tone was casual, almost offhanded, but his eyes never left hers.

She laughed, a little too high-pitched, trying to make it light. “Is that your philosophy?”

Jason rolled onto his back, shifting against her pillows, one arm bent behind his head as though he was the picture of ease. Casual on the outside, sure, but inside his pulse was hammering like he’d just sprinted across rooftops. He could feel it in his throat, in his chest, in the way his hand twitched against the sheets like it wanted to move of its own accord.

“Not a philosophy,” he said after a beat, voice softer now, weighted with something he didn’t let out often. “It’s a rule. If you give a damn about someone, you don’t half-ass it. Not in bed, not in life. If you’re in, you’re all in.” His mouth curved, not with his usual cocky smirk, but something darker, steadier—like the words weren’t a joke but a truth carved into him.

Her laugh came again, but this time it was thinner, hesitant. “God, you make it sound like a science project.”

Jason turned his head toward her slowly, eyes narrowing in the low light. That stare of his had weight to it, sharp as a blade and just as dangerous. “Maybe that’s because you’ve only been wasting your time with men who don’t give a shit about women beyond getting themselves off.” His voice wasn’t raised, wasn’t sharp—it was too calm, deliberate, like every word was placed with surgical precision. “That guy you told me about earlier? Calling it unhygienic? That’s not just disappointing. That’s pathetic.”

She opened her mouth, then stopped. The words stalled in her throat under the heat of his gaze. It wasn’t the usual sharp blue she was used to—it was heavier, darker, burning with something unsaid. For a second, it felt like the air between them shifted, humming with a charge she wasn’t sure she wanted to name.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, forcing a wry smile. “You sound awfully passionate about this. Like you’re giving a TED Talk on cunnilingus.”

Jason’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk surfacing, but it wasn’t playful. It was hungry, edged with something dangerous. “Nah,” he murmured, eyes dipping for just a heartbeat to her mouth before climbing back up. “I don’t do lectures.” His voice dropped lower, almost a growl, intimate in the way it settled between them. “I’m more of a hands-on learner.”

The words hung there, heavy, sparking something she couldn’t laugh away this time. Her fingers tightened around the juice box, the crinkle of the carton loud in the silence. Jason didn’t move, didn’t push—but his eyes told another story entirely. He looked at her like he was daring her to call his bluff.

“So what you’re saying is… you’re the best at it?” she teased, though her voice wavered just enough that Jason caught the slip.

The corner of his mouth lifted, not quite a grin, more like a challenge. He gave a lazy shrug, like the answer meant nothing to him. “Never had any complaints.”

Silence followed, but it wasn’t the easy kind they usually fell into. This one crackled. It was alive, buzzing in the narrow space between them, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. The lamp light carved shadows across her face, highlighting the slight tremor in her fingers as they worried the edge of the juice box. Jason’s eyes, sharp and unrelenting, caught the way her throat bobbed when she swallowed. She looked like she was holding on to something, steadying herself against the gravity pulling between them.

Slowly, deliberately, she set the carton aside on the nightstand. When she turned back to him, her expression was different—no playful smile, no easy grin. Just something quiet, charged, and searching. Her gaze locked onto his, unwavering for a long beat, before she whispered so softly it was almost a confession: “Prove it.”

Jason froze. For once, words didn’t come fast, and that alone was telling. “What?” His voice was low, rougher than he meant, like the word had been dragged out of his chest.

Her eyes flickered down, traitorous, lingering on his mouth for a fraction of a second before darting back up. “Prove it,” she repeated, firmer now, though the whisper still clung to her voice like it cost her something to say it aloud. “I want you to prove it.”

Jason’s pulse spiked, slamming through him with the force of a gunshot. For a second, he wondered if he’d misheard her, if his exhaustion and hunger and the thousand unspoken things between them had finally twisted into some cruel trick. But no—her face told the truth. She meant it. And that was dangerous.

He sat up a little straighter, the mattress shifting beneath his weight. “Careful,” he said quietly, his tone stripped of humor, stripped of everything except warning. His eyes, darker now under the low light, burned into her. “You don’t ask me shit like that unless you’re serious. You get that, right? You say ‘prove it,’ and I will. No, half-assing a damn thing. Not with you.”

Her breath hitched, barely audible, but Jason caught it. He caught everything—the way her knees pressed together, the way her hands clenched in her lap, the way her eyes didn’t flinch away from his no matter how intense his stare got.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t mean it,” she whispered, and there it was—the final push, the spark dropped into the gasoline that had been pooling between them for years.

Jason let out a sharp breath through his nose, shaking his head once like he was trying to clear it. His heart pounded hard enough he swore it echoed in the room. For years, he’d kept this shit buried, stuffed down under banter and late-night pasta and the safety of her fussing over him. She was his anchor. His escape. His best damn friend. And now here she was, asking him to cross a line he’d spent months convincing himself he couldn’t afford to cross.

But when his eyes dragged down to her lips again, when he caught the faint tremor of anticipation in her breath, Jason knew he was already lost.

She barely had time to take a breath before Jason’s mouth was on hers. It wasn’t cautious, wasn’t testing—it was a collision, sudden and consuming, like he’d been holding back for years and finally snapped. The sound that escaped her throat was half-gasp, half-moan, startled but eager, and almost instantly her arms were winding around his neck, clutching him close like she’d been waiting just as long.

The kiss was everything at once: rough enough to bruise, messy enough to taste desperation, but threaded with a sweetness that belonged only to him. Jason kissed like he fought—relentless, unyielding, throwing his whole weight into it—but there was something else too, something tender buried beneath the grit, like he couldn’t stop himself from caring even when it hurt.

He shifted, one hand braced against the mattress, the other curling into her hip as he maneuvered her back onto the pillows. She yielded easily, sinking into the sheets as though she belonged there, her lips never leaving his. Jason kissed her like a starving man, like he’d gone too long without and now couldn’t get enough. His mouth left hers only to drag along the curve of her jaw, the rough scrape of his stubble trailing fire over her skin. He pressed open-mouthed kisses against her throat, tasting her pulse as it thundered beneath his lips, before crashing back to her mouth like he couldn’t decide where he needed her most.

Her legs shifted restlessly, parting beneath him until he fit perfectly in the space she made for him. Jason’s body settled there without hesitation, the weight of him pressing her deeper into the bed. Her thighs curled instinctively around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back, and when her hips tilted up to meet him, Jason groaned low against her mouth. The sound rumbled through his chest, raw and guttural, betraying just how close to the edge she had him already.

“Christ,” he muttered against her lips, voice rough and breathless, his forehead pressing to hers for half a second like he needed the anchor. His hips shifted again, grinding into her just enough to feel the heat of her through the thin barrier of clothes, and the answering roll of her body nearly undid him.

He kissed her harder, hand sliding from her hip to the small of her back, pulling her tighter against him. Every brush of her body against his was gasoline on an open flame, and Jason Todd had never been the type to back away from fire.

Her hands slid down the hard plane of his chest, greedy now, fingertips tracing over the ridges of muscle and the faint map of scars like she was memorizing every mark. Her nails scratched lightly over his ribs before curling beneath the hem of his hoodie. She broke the kiss only long enough to murmur against his lips, “Take this off.”

Jason didn’t hesitate. He sat back on his knees, eyes still locked on hers, and stripped the hoodie over his head in one fluid motion. The black fabric hit the floor somewhere behind him, forgotten. His chest rose and fell, bare under the low light, broad shoulders gleaming faintly with the sheen of heat. He looked like temptation sculpted in flesh—solid muscle tempered by battle scars, every mark a story she wanted to learn.

Her hands were on him immediately, exploring the new terrain, palms skimming over his collarbones, sliding down to the solid muscle of his abdomen. Her touch was reverent, almost disbelieving, and Jason felt himself shudder under it. For a man who carried himself like nothing could touch him, her hands on his skin made him feel raw, breakable.

He bent back down, reclaiming her mouth with his, kissing her until she gasped against him. His hands found the hem of her silk nightgown, pushing it up slowly, deliberately, fingers grazing her thighs as he dragged it higher. When she sat up to help, Jason tugged the silk over her head and tossed it aside.

What was left, unraveled him.

She lay back against the pillows in nothing but a white lace bra and panties, delicate against her skin, a sharp contrast to the heat in her eyes. Jason paused, kneeling above her, his breath catching as he took her in. His gaze swept over every curve, every inch of bare skin revealed to him, and something unholy settled in his chest.

“So fucking pretty,” he whispered, almost to himself, the words reverent and rough in the same breath. His hand smoothed over the flat of her stomach, the warmth of her skin soft under his calloused palm.

When his fingers found the waistband of her panties, he paused, eyes flicking up to hers for silent permission. She didn’t hesitate—just gave the smallest nod, lifting her hips in invitation. That was all he needed. Jason hooked his fingers into the lace, dragging them down over her thighs, slow enough to make her squirm. He balled them up in one hand before shoving them into the pocket of his shorts with a smirk.

Her incredulous laugh broke the heavy silence. “Seriously?”

“Shh,” Jason murmured, eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned closer, his voice dropping low, dark, intimate. “Souvenir.”

Before she could quip back, his mouth was on her again—this time not her lips, but the soft skin of her stomach. He kissed her there, lips warm and lingering, before trailing lower. Each kiss burned hotter than the last as he made his way down, worshipping every inch of skin with a kind of hunger that left her trembling.

Jason shifted, positioning himself between her thighs with the kind of confidence that made her breath hitch. He coaxed her legs apart, guiding them up until they draped easily over his broad shoulders. From here, the view was his and his alone. Her heat glistened in the low light, and Jason’s breath stuttered at the sight, his grip on her thighs tightening unconsciously.

“Fuck,” he rasped, half to himself, half to her. His eyes drank her in like she was the most perfect thing he’d ever laid eyes on. “Look at you. Perfect.”

And then, with a steadying breath, Jason lowered his head and pressed his mouth to her, giving her no chance to prepare for the way he devoured.

Jason didn’t ease her in—he buried himself between her thighs like a man starved, his tongue dragging through her folds with slow, deliberate precision before sealing his mouth over her clit. The gasp that ripped from her chest went straight to his cock, punching the air from his lungs. He groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her, and then he was lost.

One of his hands gripped her thigh, thumb pressing hard enough to leave a mark, while the other flattened over her stomach to keep her pinned to the bed when her hips tried to buck up. He licked, sucked, teased like he had nothing else in the world to do, like his sole purpose in life was unraveling her.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he growled against her, his voice muffled but raw. He pulled back just enough to drag his tongue slowly up her slit, leaving her shaking. “Knew you would. Sweet as fuck.”

Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging hard when his tongue circled her clit again, and Jason groaned low in his throat, rutting his hips against the mattress. He didn’t even realize he was doing it at first—grinding down into the bed for friction, the thick ache in his cock unbearable. The sheets beneath him grew damp with precum as he rolled his hips, desperate, every thrust fueled by the way she gasped his name above him.

The more he rutted, the harder he worked her—tongue flicking, lips sucking, the sloppy wet sounds filling the room as he lost himself in it. Every time her thighs clenched around his head, his cock throbbed harder, pressing into the bed like he could fuck his release out just from eating her.

“Jason—” she gasped, breathless, hips arching off the mattress only to be shoved back down by his hand.

“Stay still, baby,” he rasped, voice dark and commanding against her cunt. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, gaze blown wide with hunger, hair messy from her grip. “You wanted me to prove it, yeah? Let me. Let me prove it.”

And then he dove back in, sucking her clit so hard her back bowed off the pillows. His hips rutted harder into the bed now, his breath coming ragged as he fucked against the sheets, lost in the rhythm of tasting her, of needing her, of claiming every inch of her until she broke apart in his mouth.

Her thighs trembled against his shoulders, toes curling as she tried to twist away from the overwhelming pace of his tongue. Jason wasn’t having it. His hand flattened harder against her stomach, pinning her down like she was going nowhere. Every time she tried to wriggle, he followed, dragging her right back into his mouth.

“Uh-uh,” he muttered against her, tongue flicking mercilessly. “Don’t you dare. You asked for this, sweetheart. You’re gonna take every second of it.”

Her head fell back into the pillow, fingers clutching his hair so tightly it made his scalp sting, but Jason only moaned at the pain. The sound rolled through her, deep and guttural, vibrating against her clit until she cried out.

He was rutting into the mattress harder now, every grind of his hips sloppy, desperate, his cock aching against the friction. The bed creaked beneath him with the force of it, the sheets damp under his shorts where he’d been leaking like a damn teenager. He didn’t care. All he cared about was the taste of her, the way her body writhed for him, the way she gasped his name like it meant something.

“Jesus fuck, you’re dripping,” he growled, pulling back just enough to drag two fingers through her folds before pushing them into his mouth. His eyes rolled back at the taste. “Goddamn, I could live here.”

“J-Jason, I—” Her voice cracked, high and pleading, and he knew she was close. He felt it in the way her thighs tightened around his head, the way her stomach trembled under his palm.

He grinned against her, feral, before sucking her clit back into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it in quick, ruthless strokes. His hips bucked into the bed in time with every flick, chasing his own edge, lost in the rhythm of her falling apart.

“Cum for me,” he demanded, his voice rough and wrecked between licks. “C’mon, baby, let me taste it.”

Her cry broke free, sharp and breathless, as her whole body arched off the bed. The orgasm hit her like a wave, thighs clamping around his head, hips grinding desperately into his mouth. Jason groaned loud and shameless, rutting into the sheets with abandon as he drank her down, tongue lapping up everything she gave him.

The sound of her breaking apart under him pushed him over the edge too. He ground his cock hard against the mattress, panting into her cunt as the wet heat spread through his shorts, spilling for her like he had no control left to give. He stayed there, mouth locked on her, coaxing every last shudder from her body while grinding through his own high like a man possessed.

When she finally went limp against the pillows, trembling and breathless, Jason dragged his mouth off her slowly, his lips and chin glistening. He kissed the inside of her thigh, then her hip, then crawled back up over her body, bracing himself on shaking arms. His breath came ragged, his hair a wild mess, his shorts soaked.

He pressed his forehead to hers, lips brushing against hers as he murmured, low and rough, “Still think I need to prove it?”

She let out a small, breathless laugh, the kind that shook through her chest even as she was still trembling from the aftershocks. Her arms curled tight around his neck, dragging him closer until his weight pressed fully into her. Jason let it happen, lowering himself slowly, then tilting his head just enough to capture her lips again.

This kiss was different. Softer. Careful in a way Jason never was when it came to anything else in his life. No urgency, no sharp edge—just warmth and the steady press of his mouth against hers, like he was reminding her that for all his roughness, he could give her this too. She kissed him back without hesitation, not caring about the faint taste of herself on his lips, if anything pulling him deeper into it.

Minutes bled together, the rhythm of their mouths slow and sweet, before they finally pulled apart, foreheads resting together as they caught their breath. Jason’s tongue darted out to swipe across his bottom lip, chasing the last trace of her, and he let out a quiet hum like he was savoring it.

Her grin spread slowly, mischievous and warm all at once, as she brought her hands up to cup his scarred face. Her thumbs stroked the rough stubble along his jaw, grounding him even as she teased. “You didn’t get anything,” she whispered, voice low and knowing.

Jason’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile, wasn’t quite a smirk—something heavier, like the weight of her words pressed deeper than she realized. “Well,” he murmured, his voice a gravelly rasp, before flicking his eyes downward.

She followed his gaze. That’s when she saw it: the dark grey patch spread across the front of his shorts, stark against the fabric, undeniable in what it meant.

Her lips parted in a small “oh,” the sound half-giggle, half-shock.

Jason shot her a look, sharp but flushed at the edges, his usual composure cracked just enough to betray him. “We aren’t going to talk about that,” he said flatly, the words half-threat, half-plea, before he ducked his head and buried his face into the curve of her neck.

She couldn’t help it—the laughter bubbled out of her anyway, muffled against his shoulder as her fingers threaded into his messy hair. He groaned into her skin, his voice vibrating against her throat, “I’m serious, y/n. Not. A. Word.”

Her grin only widened, even as she stroked the back of his head gently. “Sure, sure,” she teased, still chuckling softly. “Your secret’s safe with me, tough guy.”

Jason exhaled, a huff against her collarbone, but the arms wrapping tighter around her betrayed him. For all his embarrassment, for all his gruff denials, he wasn’t pulling away. If anything, he was holding on harder, anchoring himself in her warmth.

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