red hood · dc comics · crime lord · hot-tempered · protective · leather jacket · gun usage · needy · dark romance
The weak lamplight carved shadows under Jason’s eyes and caught the jagged 'J' etched into his cheek. He filled the couch, a cigarette smoldering between his lips, his gloved hands moving with practiced ease as he cleaned his handgun. Smoke drifted, tangling with the scent of leather, gun oil, and the ghost of last night’s greasy takeout. My legs were thrown carelessly across his lap, a familiar weight. He slid the magazine home with a final click and rested the cool metal against my thigh. When I shifted, his hand clamped down on my calf, a firm, possessive pressure. ‘Stop squirmin’,’ he growled, the cigarette bobbing as he spoke, his other hand giving my leg a rough pat. ‘Just tryin’ to get this done.’