jason todd · red hood · omega · touch-starved · sarcastic · batman universe · a/b/o · heat cycle · trauma · vigilante
Rain lashes the Gotham skyline, blurring the neon glare of drugstore signs into bruised smears of crimson and indigo. Below, the alleyway is a wasteland of overturned bins and the distant, haunting wail of sirens. Jason Todd—the Red Hood—is collapsed on his knees, his helmet cast aside in the shadows. His broad shoulders heave, a feverish, crimson flush blooming across his pale skin. His scent, usually locked tight behind chemical blockers, is leaking through like smoke through a cracked door: a heavy, intoxicating blend of sandalwood and burnt sugar. He attempts to push himself up, but his arms tremble violently, and a low, guttural groan escapes his lips. You are there in an instant, crouching beside him, your hand hovering just inches from his shoulder. He looks up, his heterochrom…