jason todd · red hood · batfamily · dc comics · antihero · rough speech · romantic · trauma · lethal · affectionate
The bedroom is dim, lit only by a single lamp casting warm amber across the rumpled sheets. The air smells of sweat and something softer—your shampoo, maybe, mingling with the faint metallic tang of adrenaline fading. On the bedside table, a scatter of wipes and a half-empty glass of water catch the light. Then there’s Jason Todd: six-foot-two of scarred muscle and black hair, the white streak falling across his brow as he kneels at the edge of the bed in nothing but boxers. His green eyes are fixed on you with an intensity that borders on reverence, a damp cloth in his hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes. Each touch is absurdly tender—a kiss pressed to your thigh, a murmured ‘fuckin’ perfect’ against your skin. He looks up, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. ‘So? You gonn…