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꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡ - Vixen of the year -♡⁠˖⁠꒰⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠⑅⁠꒱

Mdni!! Mlm writer

•┈꒰ა ✩ ໒꒱┈• Talis or Kitty/Mocha* - He/him - 20 •┈꒰ა ✩ ໒꒱┈•

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Insta: @/st7rb1mb0. Autistic. Some dark content

"Just the tip" with Frank Castle is never actually that. He's a man doesn't often take his time, so when he's sweet talking you to get into your pants despite the fact everyone told him to leave you alone cause you were Matt's friend. He doesn't expect you to reciprocate just as just as he's flirting. You're pulling on his belt so that he's closer to you, standing in front of him just to push your ass against him, or even waiting till you guys' friends weren't looking just to feel up on him through his pants. You were a damn vixen. Warnings be damned he was going to get a taste of you, one way or another. "Just the tip" was supposed to be the excuse he used to make you think he wasn't going to fall. As soon as he pushed his heavy, already leaking both of you moaned in sync. It wasn't enough, not even close. He couldn't help himself when you begged so sweetly for "just a little more". Drinks had been flowing through you guys' system when he came up with the idea. Now you guys were in the bathroom of the club, him seated on the closed toilet seat while you rode every inch of him. "C'mon, just like that baby. Throw your ass back some more."

DiskJockey!Jason/Ghost/Sukuna wanting nothing more than to show off and get your attention by any means necessary so they get shirtless to show off their body and tattoos in hopes they’ll catch your eye

This as Jason hello!!! Wake it up!!!

Jason was hurt, not usual the usual just couple of scratches, this was a stab wound that went a little too deep.

The man you had begged for multiple times to be careful when he'd go out on his patrols. Maybe he should have paid more attention. Maybe it was Dick's fault for distracting him in the first place by showing up invited. All of these scenarios were going to do nothing to help with the current situation. The dull ache he felt in his side was starting to travel up to his head. Heavy breaths began to fall shallow; his body leaned against the side of a club he had seem once or twice.

Voices could be heard surrounding the man, one maybe two. They all seem to hushed and worried. Some asking what should be done, another asking if they should call the cops. By the time Jason's eyes could start to focus he saw a pair of heels in front of his visor along with a "get him up" following.

The loss of blood made the matter of hours feel like minutes. Blood had started soak your sheets at this point, once a light off white now stained a harsh almost wine red. His eyes had begun to feel heavy before he could even comprehend what was going on. By the time he had come to finally he was fear stricken. His helmet was gone. Looking on both sides of where he had laid, he'd begun to panic.

"Relax. You're going to pop your stitches."

"Who the fuck are you?"

"<3, I'm a dancer in the club you're in. And you're Red Hood. All of us know about you here. Saved a couple of the girls here from creeps before."

"My mask. Where is it?"

He sat up with a harsh wheeze upon you approaching him, mask in tow. His eyes ran across every bit of you to memorize you incase you were someone who woud use this against him. Your look was practically burned into his brain, it made him ache. This wasn't a usual feeling he had. You weren't exactly the type of guy he was used to seeing. The tattoos that were littered across your body, the piercings to match, the skimpy outfit you obviously had just finished a set in now covered in blood. Blood who he could only assume was his own.

"What do you want for this?"

The look of confusion on your face only brought one onto his. People didn't do things without wanting something in return.

"Well, I couldn't have you die in front of my friends. They were scared so they got me and I had security bring you back here so I could patch you up before someone saw you. If we lose you in the streets, then we'd b fucked. You keep us safe."

While you spoke, Jason had begun to put his armor back on. Little by little, painful inch by inch. Your words were something he had, yet hadn't, heard before. Yes, he knew he kept people safe, but to hear someone other than someone he was actively saving was new. Slowly and saved for last came his helmet. His head turned in an almost inhuman way to look at you once you had finished. Closer and closer he got to you until he was mere inches from your face.

"This stays between us. You tell anyone anything about me or this I will fucking kill you. Understood?"

"...Yeah, I got it."

There was a silence between you two as he went to leave through the only window in the room. Before he left, he turned to face you once more.

"You need something you find me, got it?"

i'm so glad y'all liked it. i thought it was time to write something cutesy.

Ak! Jason who has you as his number one priority.

You’re not completely unknowing of the life style that he lives, he’s never tried to hide it, it just has never been a full fledged conversation that you both had time to have. He was a man who used to lived to destroy himself in order to bring down everything that was corrupt around him. The a,punt of broken bones or sleepless nights he put himself through had been endless before the point of befriending you.

Jason had been your friend while you were working at the strip club the past couple years making good money dancing for the drunk assholes who couldn’t wait to palm themselves when you stepped on stage. He pretty much acted as your “security” for when you got off and were walking back to your home.

The big burly wall of man waited outside of the club, lollipop between his lips as he watched men and women alike enter in and out at the chance of seeing you and your coworkers dance. Jason heard the familiar jingling of your bangles making him turn to see you walking over to where had been posted up. Little was said, but his hand was held out for you to grab and hold on to as you walked.

By the time you had reached him he had noticed how full your hands were. Heels, makeup, outfit, wallet, all of the usual shit he watched you stumble around with instead of putting in a bag. An excuse of "needing a visual reminder of having everything". It made him roll his eyes but none the less he grabbed most of the stuff, carrying most of what you had in one arm while holding your hand with his free one.

You had never made a point to ask him to come pick you up. He did because you cared for him in ways that he thought he didn't deserve. You noticed things he hadn't in years. When he would crash on your couch after days of being in the streets fighting you would somehow get his heavy ass into your bed, despite the dirt and blood you would have to wash off your sheets and blankets once he awoke.

After your little lavish shopping trips when you'd be showing him what you had gotten there would always be one or two things left over much to his confusion. They would be for him. You'd force him to open it, try it on, just like you did with your items. And as embarrassing as it was, he loved how it would give his mind a moment of silence.

Your hand felt warm against his in the chilly fall night, one neither of you had been dressed appropriately for at this point.

"Have you eaten yet?"

"..." "I have food at home for us. I'll heat it up."