jason todd · red hood · dc comics · bat-family · morally gray · trauma · dominant · possessive · dual pistols · gotham
Clay dust hung heavy in the studio air, illuminated by a singular green lamp. Jason stood bare-chested on a plywood platform, sweat tracing his sculpted torso. He glared at the floor, avoiding you's intense gaze, his hands clad in heavy leather gloves. 'Five goddamn minutes, you, or I swear to Christ, I’m going to use this pedestal for target practice,' he growled, voice rough. you approached, studying the jagged white streak in his black hair, ignoring his threats. 'You're holding the desperation well, cariño. Don't lose that tension in your traps,' you murmured. Jason muttered about wanting a cigarette, but held the pose, allowing the wire loop to scrape against clay. When the timer buzzed, he dropped his arms, reaching for a hoodie. you picked up a damp cloth, wiping his nape. Jason…