cuntboyofficial

[cuntboyofficial]

imagine spiderman!gojo pinning you against the wall, you can tell his smirk is sharp behind that mask. you're already breathless, but he takes his time, teasingly twirling a strand of his webbing between his fingers before snapping it into place.

"gotcha," he murmurs, voice smooth and dripping with amusement as he binds your wrists above your head with one hand while the other lifts up his mask to hang on his nose, the silk clings, snug but soft, leaving you just enough room to squirm.

"you're awfully quiet for someone who begged me to come save them," he taunts, leaning in close, his breath hot against your ear. the sticky threads trail lower, securing your thighs in place, keeping you perfectly still for him.

his gloved fingers ghost over the bare skin of your neck, trailing down your chest, testing just how much he can make you squirm while you're completely at his mercy. “don’t worry, sweetheart. i’ll make sure you’re taken care of. heroes always do, right?”

[cuntboyofficial]

no thoughts just hugging mammon with everything you have and crying into the nape of his neck while he hugs you just as tight, just as hard, just as desperately, but also so gently because he’s afraid he’ll break you with how delicate you are right now.

no thoughts just slumping against him after crying out everything left in you and falling asleep while he still holds onto you and kisses the crown of your head because he knows you won’t notice.

no thoughts just his heart breaking because if he had his way he would take your pain onto himself in a heartbeat but he can’t and that’s what hurts the most.

no thoughts just mammon staying with you like that the whole night and checking your pulse occasionally and feeling relieved at it’s presence because it means you’re still here with him.

no thoughts just falling asleep with your first man and having him treat you like you’re the most precious thing in all of the three realms.

no thoughts; just mammon being your rock like he always is.

[cuntboyofficial]

One nightmare abt lumeria later

[cuntboyofficial]

your usual text convos with gojo satoru

a/n; second time making an smau kinda nervous

[cuntboyofficial]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎damien, eighteen, he/him

writing blog. nsfw account. fandom based. side blog. main @naviiq. reblog blog @cuntboyofficial. mutuals. inbox open for requests + chatting!! taglist. jjk masterlist.

taken emoji anons; 🪱, 🍮, 🕸️, 🗣️,🎙️,💣, 🐶, 🐺,🩸, 🪼, 📓, 🍓, taken name anons; day, 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, fixxy,

[cuntboyofficial]

𖦏    /brief:   true form boyfriend! sukuna. female reader. crack & fluff. established relationship. sentient stomach-mouth. jealous/bratty sukuna.

sukuna’s glare sharpens like a blade the moment you slink over.

the living room has long since gone quiet — tension thick in the air, silence punctuated only by the occasional flex of his claws or the tap of your finger on your phone screen as you pretended to ignore each other. he'd shifted sideways on the couch, one set of arms crossed, the other resting casually over the armrest like he hadn’t been watching you sulk from across the room for the last half hour. the glow of his cursed energy still hums faintly around his form, his mood unmistakably stormy.

when you finally get up, his head tilts, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes, like a predator thinking its prey is finally crawling back.

“so,” he murmurs, voice cool and graveled, “you’ve come to your sens—”

but you don’t look at him.

instead, you drop onto the cushions beside him, your body pressed languidly against his side — not quite in apology, not quite in affection either. you angle yourself just enough to lean forward, lowering your voice conspiratorially and resting your chin lightly atop the ridged skin of his abdomen. 

then, with slow and exaggerated sweetness, you whisper, “you’re the only one who understands me, huh?”

the mouth — that damn traitorous thing embedded in his stomach — cracks open in a wet little grin, a pleased, glottal rumble spilling out like a purr. it flexes with grotesque delight under your touch, lips curling back as if preening from the attention. you reach out and gently boop the corner of its lip with your finger. 

“he never listens, you know,” you sigh, all mock despair. “but you… you always have so much to say.”

the mouth gurgles softly, pleased, one of its tendrils curling lazily along your wrist in something almost like a hug. sukuna’s eyes narrow. one brow twitches. 

“you are speaking,” he begins slowly, “to my torso.”

“mmhmm,” you hum, petting it again.

“my torso,” he repeats, coldly. 

“and yet he’s still more expressive than you,” you mutter just loud enough for him to hear.

there’s a pause. a deep silence. then — pop — another smug gurgle from the stomach mouth as it seems to giggle in agreement. sukuna’s jaw tightens. “i could sew it shut.”

“you wouldn’t,” you croon at the mouth, ignoring him entirely, stroking around the lips like it’s a pampered housecat. “he’s just jealous, isn’t he?”

the mouth gives a rumble of agreement, nuzzling its wrinkled lips against your palm.

“jealous?” sukuna echoes, venomously. “of what, exactly?”

you only smile faintly and keep cooing nonsense to the flesh-lipped abomination like it’s your new favorite pet. and it loves the attention — shuddering under each word, giving him the occasional sidelong twitch that reads as smugness far more than it should. sukuna glares at his own stomach like it’s betrayed the empire.

which, technically, it has.

“you know,” you muse with a grin, now poking gently at a fang between its gums, “i bet if he had arms, he’d hug me first. right, baby?”

the sound that mouth makes is somewhere between a burble and a snort — happy, if such a thing can be applied to a gut maw. the room fills with a faint cursed pressure as sukuna’s patience drains in real time. “this is beneath me,” sukuna mutters, the deep growl of his tone almost offended now, jaw set with regal disdain as he stares straight ahead.

“yeah?” you say idly, tracing a circle into his skin, still not sparing him a glance. “funny, you’re the one being ignored.”

he growls. the mouth burbles as you snuggle in closer. and for once, sukuna is left speechless — not by defiance or fear, but by the sheer absurdity of being one-upped by his own cursed flesh.

the final straw isn’t loud. it doesn’t come with fire or fury or flying furniture.

no, it comes softly — devastatingly — when you shift in just a little closer, curling your arm around sukuna’s lower torso like you’re cradling it. and not just holding him absentmindedly, no. your palm strokes his bottom abs with the kind of care usually reserved for a lover’s cheek, your thumb brushing along the skin beneath the mouth like it’s sacred.

and that thing responds by letting its long, grotesque tongue loll out, wet and wagging like a fucking golden retriever.

there’s a moment of silence. then—

“enough.”

sukuna’s voice cracks across the room like thunder. you freeze for a second, but it’s not out of fear. it’s the sheer satisfaction of hearing that tone, the one that means he’s seconds away from either obliterating a small village or throwing in the towel.and today, for whatever ungodly reason, it’s the latter.

“i apologize,” he snaps, tone stiff and almost… embarrassed. “you were…right.”

a beat passes. your brows rise slowly, lips twitching as you glance up — but not to him. you lower your gaze to the stomach mouth again, eyes wide with mock wonder. 

“did you hear that?” you whisper dramatically to it, like it’s your co-conspirator. “he apologized.”

the mouth grumbles out a satisfied little bleat, still panting ever so slightly. it flutters its lips in what can only be described as the unholy cousin of a smug giggle. you hum in approval, tilting your head in faux consideration. “hmm… what do you think? can we forgive him?”

it lets out a throaty gurgle that sounds suspiciously like agreement.

you sit up a little straighter, shift your weight, and finally — finally — look at your boyfriend. your actual, cursed king of a boyfriend, sitting there with every muscle taut like he’s suppressing the urge to either strangle something or melt into the shadows in shame. he won’t meet your eyes at first.

but oh, bless him. there’s the faintest, faintest pull at the corners of his mouth. not a full grin, no, nothing so lowly. but a twitch, a flicker — one human might call a smirk, and it’s trying to stay hidden behind all that pride. you huff a small laugh, then lean in and finally cradle his face the same way you did his stomach. thumb dragging lightly along his jaw, your expression all too tender.

“you’re such a brat,” you murmur, forehead brushing his.

he exhales like he’s been holding his breath since the dawn of time. “and you,” he mutters, hands finally coming up to rest on your hips, “are a menace.”

but he lets you do it. lets you cradle him, coo at him. and he pretends he’s unaffected, but the stomach mouth isn’t the only one betraying him tonight.

[cuntboyofficial]

you pretend to be mad & they offer themselves as a peace offering. you win.

features; gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna

a/n; first time making smaus kinda nervous

[cuntboyofficial]

Coming back to the house after a long mission, he steps right into the bedroom. It's been 3 weeks since he's been away from his wife. God how dearly he missed you. Satoru you on the bed in nothing but one of his shirts you always wear and shorts, reading some book.

When your gaze lands on him, you eyes immediately soften, and the corner of your lips tip up. You close the book and keep it on your side-table, the only sound in the room being the bag in satoru's hand thumping on the ground before settling into silence again.

He walks over to the bed and lay down on top of you to bury his face in your chest, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly, holding on like you might vanish anytime. You feel him sigh contentedly when your fingers stroke through his hair. You take off his blindfold and keep it on the side-table, gazing down at him affectionately.

If anyone else saw this scene right now, they'd be stunned. You were never the sweet kind. Satoru was never the quiet and needy kind.

Rather, you were the short tempered, sarcasm filled, teasing and taunting- but playfully- kind of woman. The woman who was sometimes the mom of the group and sometimes the crackhead. Everyone knew you as the person who was said to be impossible to make feel emotions other than... well irritation and sarcasm.

Satoru was the arrogant, cocky, 'never need no one', annoying kind of guy. But above all that. He was "The Strongest". He was always thought of as the independent person. For most people, he was Gojo Satoru.

But for you? He was nothing more than a mere man in love. He was your lovesick husband. He was whatever you wanted him to be.

You were-are-the only safe space he knows and craves, and he wouldn't have it any other way. When he's tired of being 'The Strongest', as 'Six eyes amd limitless', as 'Gojo', he runs back into your arms to be nothing but your Satoru. Your man. Yours.

He gazes up at you, eyes filled with nothing but raw emotions, and unfiltered, pure love. "Missed you so much..." He mumbles.

Cupping his face with both your hands, you meet his eyes overwhelmed with emotion. "Oh my sweet boy, I know you did." You lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, watching him savour your affection and lean into your touch like a puppy.

Guys first actual fic? don't hate me please😭🙏🏼 anyways i might xtend it later on too lazy rn-

[cuntboyofficial]

a/n; indian reader with gojo for @satoruspillow idk if this is like right because i'm not indian myself but i was researching!! i was trying!! i'm sorry if it's bad ☹‼

you’re sitting cross legged on the floor, wearing one of your oversized kurtas—the comfy, peachy pink one that fades into coral - the one you always reach for when you're home and relaxed. it’s late, the soft yellow lights in your apartment glowing like melted ghee, warm and easy. a bollywood movie plays faintly in the background, the scene showing a man playing with a violin but you’re not even watching it anymore, though. gojo’s lying on your lap, his snowy hair a mess against your thighs, his long lashes brushing his cheeks as he blinks up at you like a cat who knows he’s spoiled.

“you smell like cardamom,” gojo says suddenly.

you blink, pausing in your motions—your fingers had been threading through his hair absentmindedly. “it’s probably the chai i made earlier,” you murmured.

“you do smell like cardamom..” he smiles lazily, eyes half lidded. “you’re like a puja in a person.”

you laugh softly, flicking his forehead. “what does that even mean?”

“it means you make everything feel great. even the boring stuff. even me.” gojo catches your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles, his lips cool and soft. “especially me.”

your cheeks heated up, but you obviously don’t pull away. instead, you let your hand rest on his cheek, thumb brushing the curve of his jaw. he leans into your touch like he’s starving for it.

gojo reaches up and fiddles with your bangles, letting them clink together. “teach me how to say something romantic in hindi.”

you arched a brow. “romantic? why?”

“because you always say the sweetest stuff in your language and i want to make you smile too.”

you roll your eyes, but your heart stutters. “okay. say.. tum meri jaan ho.”

gojo tries. fails. tries again. says something completely different that sounds more like jam than jaan. you giggle into laughter and he grins shamelessly.

“you’re soo hopeless,” you tease.

“hopelessly in love,” he counters, tugging you down into his arms, toppling you both into a heap of laughter and limbs.

[cuntboyofficial]

mess with my woman? mess with me—headcanon

synopsis. you were invited to an event and you brought your boyfriend with you. entrusting your boyfriend's social skills, you branched off to catch up with your best friend, tara. this motion, however, ended up going against your favor.

pairing. multi (seperate) x reader

words. 4.7k

warning. objectification, sexism, some mentions of body parts (ass and boobs) but it is never super specific, threat of violence, mentions of weapons, suggestive (xavier and caleb), use of evol (zayne and caleb), psychological torture, public humiliation, creatively uncreative insults towards a male colleague, implied death, open ending, slight ooc, not proofread**

requested. anon

a/n. my first request (˶ˆᗜˆ˵) i hope i did it justice, and did as told !!! i kinda went overboard, with some having a dark ending, but regardless hope you enjoy it.

minors do not interact. re-read the warnings before reading, as after clicking “keep reading”, i am not responsible for the media you consume.

You and your boyfriend step out of the vehicle as you arrive at the annual ceremony that is held by the Hunters’ Association. It is a highly prestigious and acclaimed event, and you two were dressed to the nines with your elegant long dress and his sharp suit, armored with accessories and hidden weapons, and arms wrapped around each other’s midriff to signify the status of your relationship. 

You were both greeted with a welcoming champagne, which you two gleefully took, and casual salutations from guests who knew you specifically. The ball was extravagant, with high-contrast elegance emanating in the room. You hear chattering, pompous chuckles, and rumblings of clinking glasses—a mere opposite environment of that of your workplace. 

You flaunted your boyfriend like he was a human version of a one-of-a-kind vintage car—you would feel bad for the objectification, if only for the fact that girls and some guys tend to flock to them to get to know this mysterious man in your arms. Luckily for you, but unfortunately for them, he only has eyes for you, and he pays no mind to others who don’t carry your essence. 

After the slight cordial exchange with acquaintances, you spotted Tara from afar, her youthful smile brightened as she jauntily waved her arms signaling for your arrival. You smiled back and nodded at her before you turned your attention towards your boyfriend and your male colleague, whom you happened to stumble upon. 

“Hey, babe, Tara’s calling out for me, you don’t mind if I step away?” Your request was a rhetorical one, as you knew he trusted you with his life. He gave his affirmative answer and nodded before you planted a chaste kiss on his cheek and parted ways. 

His eyes were on you as you walked up to Tara, ecstatically greeting each other. The male colleague in question looks at your boyfriend with a scoffing expression. The endearing and caring eyes shifted into a scowling confusion as he looked back at the man next to him. 

“Is there a problem?” He asked pointedly. The man held your boyfriend’s shoulder as he began chuckling. 

“Oh, no, my good man, there is none at all,” The man babbled before he chugged the remainder of his drink. The drunken state is very prevalent, if not in expression, then in his wording. “I’m just wondering how a distinguished gentleman like yourself bagged her? I know you can’t handle all of that juicy ass…”

Rafayel.

Rafayel choked on his drink after he heard the astonishing yet abhorrent language your male colleague had uttered. 

“Excuse me?!” Rafayel exclaimed after coughing up the last drink, looking at him with distaste, but clearly, the man still hadn’t gotten the memo. 

“Oh, please, we both know you got with her because of how hot she is!“

“Stop! Stop!” Rafayel roared while lifting his hand at the man’s face to signal him to stop talking. He cannot believe the words he is hearing, a male colleague, someone whom you work with, speaking about you—his muse, his future wife, his future mother of his children—in this shallow fashion. 

“What gives you the right to speak about her right to my, her boyfriend, may I add, face?!” Rafayel inquired avertingly, eyes reddened in fury. The usually smiley and soft artist has turned into a protective lion ready to attack at any moment. 

“Look, I presume you’re fresh meat right now and you don’t deal with her on the daily, but I’ll have you know that if it weren’t for that 10 out of 10 face and ass, you wouldn’t bat an eyelash at her.” This man has gotten himself a death sentence. Rafayel slammed his glass onto the table, causing a domino of heads turning towards him and the human scum in front of him jolted in his place.

“You motherfucker—”

“Hey, Rafy!” You barged in between, almost in cue, before his outbursts took over. The tension rose, and it was evident by your colleague’s petrified yet defensive stance that your usually calm and collected boyfriend snapped. 

“Is everything alright?” you asked, concern laced in your tone, paying mind only to your boyfriend. Rafayel could only do a languid yet short breathing exercise before smiling at you, anger still written in his face. 

“Yeah, fabulous, I was just getting to know your colleague,” his smile looking painful and petrifying. He wanted to escort you and not witness his wrath, however, his conscious was gnawing at him. He refuses to allow this brain-eating amoeba to roam around this prestigious hall contentedly, without paying his dues.  

“Hey, my absolute goddess, and anyone willing to weigh in on the gossip, preferably a boss or higher-up,” Rafayel dramatically announced while wrapping his arm around your waist. You looked at him, brows scrunched in confusion at Rafayel’s sudden behavior. What on earth is this man doing? 

“Do you know what this scum has been saying behind your back?” Rafayel pointed at the man who cowardly shrank himself, “You will not believe the absolute filth he has uttered in the short second I’ve dealt with him…”

And there, Rafayel turned the affluent event into a one-sided roast session, your jaw dropped, both in awe and disgust, whilst everyone let out a string of appalled gasps and whispers. Rafayel ripped him a new one while the man tried his best to defend himself. 

“It was a joke! I-I didn’t mean to!” The colleague stammered before looking at you in sheer patheticness to save face, not an ounce of remorse, “Please, Ms. (l/n), you know I was only—”

The gasp from the audience got louder as his deplorable voice was replaced by a slap from you. Rafayel could only scowl and hold you closer as you both watched the pathetic man stumble from the hit. 

You tugged on Rafayel’s arms and pointed at the door, “Let’s go, Rafy.”

“Let’s go, cutie,” He said, his sweet voice directed to your ears contrasted with the threatening eyes directed towards your male colleague, potentially ex, before turning around and departing from the party. 

The rest of the night spent with the two of you laughing at the entirety of the situation, poking fun at the man and your boyfriend’s love for the theatrics. Rafayel assured you that the claims that the man has stated were utter bullshit and that his love and enamor towards you goes beyond looks and bed skills, meanwhile you assured him that you were never close to that specific colleague. 

It was a fun time, and Rafayel could not wait for the updates to come when you return to work.

Xavier

Xavier’s polite smile has never dropped so quickly until now. 

He has been aware of this specific colleague since he also encounters him every now and then, and has seen you interact with him. He doesn’t like how he tries to get close to you, however, you always told Xavier to tone down his jealousy in the work field as the relationship is strictly business, and that your eyes are reserved towards him and him only. He believes you one hundred percent, yet he wishes he had done things to get that colleague away from you. 

“I beg your pardon?” Xavier’s words were as sharp as a knife, as his eyes painted a displeasing anger that was hidden beneath the surface. The drunken man in front of him paid no mind and began rambling. 

“C’mon, you can be honest with me,” The man slurred as he leaned in and whispered with a devious smirk, “She had a tight one and was a good fuck, am I right?”

The vulgar words sent shockwaves to Xavier, resulting in him pushing the man in front of him, causing the brain-eating amoeba of a man to stumble back into the table nearby, making everyone gasp and look at the commotion. You turned away from Tara and ran up to Xavier as you spotted him wielding his sword. 

“Xavier!” You called out as your boyfriend walked up to the cowardly man below him, threateningly. You stood between the two men, but you fully faced Xavier as you placed your hands on his arms to prevent him from hurting himself, the man, and possibly others. 

“Apologize to her,” Xavier said, pointedly and terrifyingly calm. You glanced at the man before looking back at your lover, “What are you talking about?” 

The man stood up as he lifted his hand, defensively before opening his mouth, “I just told him how it is, but your man is a pussy.”

Xavier clenched his fists, ready to charge, yet you stopped him by simply glancing at him. You had that power with him; he could have all the weapons and defenses, but nothing’s more potent than your expressions and glances. You squinted your eyes in suspicion before crossing your arms. 

“And what is it that you’ve said that got him like this?!” You coldly said, knowing your boyfriend has his moments of irrationality, but he’s not one to always resort to violence—he doesn’t act this way unless his and/or your life has been threatened. Xavier stood behind you as he held your hip, silently reminding you that he had your back, even if you don’t need it. 

��That he was with you for a good fuck,” He said in a “matter-of-fact” manner. 

The entire audience was flabbergasted by the confession, how callous he seemed, as if he had just uttered a common fact. Xavier was embarrassed on your behalf; he was ready to charge at him, and he couldn’t stand how you were stopping him. However, you showed him something that is possibly more brutal than Xavier’s sword covered with that scum’s blood.

You wheezed. 

You let out a hysterical laugh, leaving everyone, including your boyfriend and the colleague, confused. The colleague scowled at your laughing outburst. 

“Why are you laughing?!” He exclaimed angrily, fist clenched at the sudden reaction. You proceeded to laugh before you wiped your tears as you attempted to catch your breath.

“Is that what it is?” You spoke, the smile you’re showing on your face was that of menace, “you’re mad that he’s with me for a good fuck and not you?” 

Your voice heightened like you were baby talking, which caught everyone off guard, “are you mad that I get to fuck your coworker and have me call out his name instead of yours? Mad that you aren’t in his position?”

Xavier turned red, unexpecting your bold moves, but you kept going with your speech.

“Mad that he gets to see me at my full glory while you’re only limited to my uniform? Mad that he gets to use his hands to make me feel good while you can only use one hand for yourself?” You carried on taunting while the colleague began seething as you kept going, a smirk still exhibited on your face.

“That’s it!” He exclaimed before attempting to lunge at you. Xavier stood up straight on defense almost immediately, yet you fearlessly caught the man on time and proceeded to kick him in the balls. The dirtbag let out a painful groan and crouched down before falling while everyone, minus you and Xavier, in the hall let out their winced “oohs”. 

You and your lover looked down at the pained man with a mirrored, cold glower, your glares threatening him to stay away from the two of you. Xavier absent-mindedly held your hand, dragging you away from the commotion as you held him even closer to you.

You two left the hall, going down the steps of the building hand-in-hand. Xavier took notice of your sudden quiet demeanor, making his eyebrows knit in wonder.

“You’re quiet…” Xavier softly spoke as you two walked up the parking lot, “How ironic, after the stunt you’ve done, I wouldn’t guess that this would be the aftermath.”

You sighed, “I’m sorry for airing out our private life in front of our entire coworkers—”

Your apologetic speech was interrupted by Xavier pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss was filled with fervent reassurance as his arm was tightly wrapped around your midriff while he slightly nipped at your bottom lip. He pulled away, his body still close to yours as his hand caressed your cheek, his soft features created an oxymoron with the devious smirk. 

“Don’t apologize, now everyone knows not to mess with you…” He pulls away as he walks to the car.

You were sure you were going to give him the best night of his life to salvage the disastrous night.

Zayne

He simply blinked at him with an expressionless face. His eyebrows knitted in utter bemusement, his neutral expression juxtaposed with his agitated inner psyche.

 Zayne prayed that what he had just heard was a figment of his imagination and it’s that his possessive side deluded him into thinking that your male colleague said the most objectifying statement he has ever heard about his lover, and he was a young doctor whose no stranger with people from patients to receptionists to even interns and medical students attempting to seduce him for their own greater good, so he knows a thing or two about this subject matter—which is nothing and slightly less worrying than your case.

“I see you’re a man of a few words, don’t worry, I can see your intentions right through you,” the man confidently—wrongly as well—gloated, “Now, I know (y/n) for some time and lemme tell ya, her hunting skills may not be all that, but those cherries of her’s make it all up” 

Zayne wished he were deluding himself right now, and the words the man was saying weren’t real. He maintained with the stoic stance, disgust started to crack behind the mask, as the man proceeded to say the most awful thing any human being has ever uttered. 

“I mean, you’re one lucky bastard for bagging her, because having a girl with tits like that? Phew, got me acting up…” 

For someone who can’t handle alcohol, Zayne cursed himself for not being able to get drunk and forget this abhorrent exchange. While he remained motionless, his hand started to shake in fury as he brought his drink to his lips. The douchebag still proceeds in his demeaning and depersonalizing speech, while your boyfriend averted his eyes away from him. He was getting annoyed, and he thought that enough was enough. 

Mid-speech, the pig disguised human began shivering all of a sudden. He started to rub himself to keep himself warm, while Zayne was unbothered by his reaction. 

“Phew, is it cold in here? I didn’t think it’d get this cold,” Energy sucker of a human shuddered with his words as he looks at the towering doctor, almost looking for any struggle. He simply shrugged and swirled his remaining drink.

“I don’t think it’s cold.” Zayne finally spoke up for the first time, letting his ominously calming voice be heard. It is unknown if it was the temperature of the room or his voice, but the man next to Zayne started feeling severely shivery. 

“H-hey, i-it’s g-getting s-sup-per c-c-cold now,” the shiver in his body and voice turned into a rapid quiver as the man attempts to warm himself by rubbing his arm up, fails miserably. Zayne once again shrugged and paid no mind. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t feel cold.”

Zayne smirked as he sensed the man’s body begin to whiten from the cold. The mole rat began groaning as icy surfaces began to protrude out of his neck as he knelt in agony, while the ice evol holder could only look down with him, apathy drawn in his face. If he weren’t in a public area, he’d have icicles penetrating his skin, but he knows that won’t be appropriate. 

However, the show must go on, as everyone took notice of the man’s aching state, so the empathetic doctor was brought back. As Zayne kneeled and pretended to tend to him, you ran over to the two individuals on the ground, and you noticed your boyfriend’s antics. To a stranger’s eyes, they simply think it’s just an off-duty doctor tending to a struggling victim, but to you, you see Zayne’s purposeful languid motions and his icy gaze that mirrored his evol, which was evidently in use as he tortured the man in front of him. You walked through the crowd up to them and crouched down to their level.

“What happened?” You asked, shocked written in your face. Zayne gave you a small knowing smile, “Nothing, just an injured drunkard, get in the car, we’ll go home after this.”

Straight to the point, yet vague. You knew he was lying, and you knew that he wouldn’t say anything in front of everyone, so you obliged and left. ‘He better have a good explanation for this,’ you thought to yourself. 

As soon as your figure was gone and the crowd scattered, Zayne roughly held the struggling man by the collar as he huskily whispered in his ears.

“Listen here, because I won’t repeat this. If you so ever talk about my girlfriend, or any girl at that, in this fashion, I promise you, your visit to hell will be sooner than expected, are we clear?” His calm tone sent shivers down the scum’s spine in fear as Zayne’s threats were sounding more like promise than a threat. 

Zayne pulled away, his glacial gaze waiting for a response. The man beneath him vigorously and cowardly nodded before Zayne let go of his collar and dusted himself off.

“You seem to have a mild hypothermia, based on your lower than normal body temperature, I suggest you go home, having something warm and rest with a heater on, so you’ll rejuvinate yourself… for future events” Zayne announced the diagnosis like he didn’t just threatened his life… as if his diagnosis isn’t any less menacing.

Needless to say, you have to thank Zayne for expelling bugs from your job.

Sylus

His brows raised in astonishment. Is this the work environment that you dare to gloat over him for? A man who can just objectify and reduce women to sex objects? Sylus was not a man of high morality and ethics, but even he knows his limits and disdain towards certain ideologies, and it’s the poor excuses of humans like him that will always leave a bad taste in Sylus’s mouth. 

“Hm,” Sylus mutters as his face sours while cocking his head to the side. Despite the disinterest shown in the towering white-haired man, the blobfish proceeded in his objectifying tirade. 

“I mean, what does a man of high status like yours need a girl like (y/n)? She is nothing but a pretty face and body, I would know, I work along with her,” The man obnoxiously laughed and hit Sylus’s side, making the red-eyed man grimace even further. 

This man has a certain death wish, and Sylus is not afraid to fulfill it, but, infuriatingly, patience is the best tool to execute this, and he knows this all too well. He can’t be too rash with his decision, especially when he’s Skye right now, a man who runs a family business selling fruits, not Onichynus, the leader of the N109 Zone and the most feared man. 

It’s a good thing that you’ve convinced him that Mephisto should be within your radar, because as soon as he gives the signal to the mechanical crow to bring in Luke and Kiean, it's go time and brings out his love for art and theatrics. 

“Oh, is that what you think?” His face shifted instantly, a smirk crossing his arms. The man was too excited to affirm his statement with how quickly he nodded, which seethed Sylus, but he could never showcase it right now. As the man carried on ranting, Sylus nodded before tapping on his ear as a form of discreet scratching.

That maneuver triggered the hidden earpiece you and Sylus had, and there you can hear Sylus’s torturous and abhorrent conversation with your colleague, whom you have foolishly praised. You have aided him in multiple missions and provided resources for him to better himself in the field, and now this is thanks you get? If you’re a nagging bitch, then you’ll show him what a nagging bitch would do.

Tara was absentmindedly ranting, before you interrupted her and gave her an excuse that “Skye” needed to go back home urgently. Tara said her farewells, and you two exchanged hugs before you said goodbye to the rest of the group. 

You already knew what Sylus was going to do, he didn't have to tell you his plan. you already had him memorized like a book of incantation, just as he is to you, and with the way he intentionally turned on his earpiece to make you listen to the horseshit your so-called “trusted colleague,” you knew he was done for. 

“Hey, Skye,” You gleefully returned as you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend’s midriff, resulting in his automatic hold on you while his gaze falls on you with wonder in his eyes—this was not an act, the action of having you physically close to him can make him falter into his knees for his adoration is bigger than what the universe can carry, hence the impromptu mission at hand.  

“Oh, hey, sweetie, such perfect timing, we were having such a riveting and intellectually stimulating conversation, isn’t that right?” Sylus said with his iconic smirk, discreetly sarcastic. He had placed the man in front of you in an uncomfortable position, with his tight-lipped smile and slight nod. Oh, how funny sexist pigs can be. 

“Oh, is that so? What were you talking about?” You feigned innocence and curiosity as you looked at the two men.

The man stiffened as he nervously stammered, “oh, there’s no need to know, it’s, y’know… men stuff.”

You nodded with a squint as you held Sylus closer, silently signifying to him that it’s done and the cue to be leaving, but you weren’t going to leave in silence.

“Yeah, I’m sure talking about me being a nagging bitch is peak masculinity.” You sneered before you turned your back, dragging Sylus, and you two departed. The pig’s colors melting away from his face was priceless, which both of you fought hard not to laugh and ruin the image you two tried to maintain until both of you’re out of sight.

“You’re not a bad actress, Miss Hunter,” Sylus left a teasing yet genuine comment as you two walked on the sidewalk. Sylus purposely parked his car away for anonymity and safety, so it is a bit of a walk. 

You chuckled, “You’re not so bad yourself, I was almost convinced that you agreed with everything he said with how you kept egging him on,” you teased back, making Sylus visibly cringe at the thought. 

“Please, it was more torturous listening to his voice, let alone pretending to hear him out,” He spat while rolling his eyes, making you chuckle before you wrapped your arms around his muscular biceps. Despite everything, the lengths that Sylus takes to keep you safe and protected make you fall for him, and after knowing what he’ll do to that guy after he takes you home, it’s safe to say that Sylus is the only man you’ll put your 100% trust in.

Caleb 

He could’ve sworn he heard a record scratch being played because of what he just heard. No, no, that was the chip acting up, there are side effects with the chip, he could’ve possibly misheard—

“Yeah, and I bet that pussy is tight,” Your colleague paused to sigh, “How does it feel to bag a baddies and manage to nuzzle yourself in that?”

Oh, he has chosen death, for sure. Caleb felt his eye twitch as he noticed the man eyeing you like a predator would a prey. This has to be some cruel prank made by you; THIS poor excuse of a human is your trusted colleague? The one you once mentioned that you trust him with your drinks after him? This scum was almost placed at a same level as him—your devoted, loving boyfriend. Caleb doesn’t know if he should get offended that you’ve placed this nobody at the same level as him, or direct his entire anger at him. 

He figured the forth should be dealt with later and handle the latter firsthand.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Caleb switched off his charismatic and sociable persona and placed his cold colonel side up to the surface with the bluntness of his tone. The cuntleague jolted in his place, noticing the unsatisfactory reaction coming from the colonel.

“C’mon, Caleb was? You know I was fucking aro—”

“It’s Colonel Caleb to you,” He sternly spoke, “And I don’t want you jeering around, talking about my girlfriend this way.”

The man in front of him didn’t take him seriously, laughing straight at Caleb’s unrelenting stance. Oh, he’s sealed his deal; he better not, god forbid, have any loved ones. 

“Alright, Colonel Caleb, whatever you say, buddy—” The heckler wanted to give your boyfriend a pat on the shoulder, only for it to levitate above the broad shoulder. The man notices the odd phenomenon, trying to pull away but to no avail, he struggles as he tries to get his hand back to its natural position. Caleb could only scornfully look at him as blue and red rays emanated around him like an aura, his lips curled in disgust.  

The man began pleading with the colonel to let go of his hand, anticipating his mercy of his hand. Caleb waited as he stared down, before elevating his hand away just slightly, only for the man’s hand to remain static in front of his face. 

“Hey, what are you doing—” His mouth shut due to the pressure of his jaw shutting him, thanks to Caleb’s evol, and then dragged him far away from the crowd. What occurs next makes the man regret what he uttered; the psychological and physical torment that Caleb inflicted on him was beyond cruel. But can he be blamed? He has heard your fantasy in the eradication of incels, and this colleague of yours is no less than that—it’s just you didn’t know that. Now, this man is paying his dues, hoping he never talked to Caleb, or disrespected him, or talked about you in a vulgar manner. 

You’ve noticed that Caleb was nowhere in sight, you were getting tired and wanted to call him to let him know of your state, only for him to appear behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist. You jumped in surprise before turning to him, making you laugh. 

“Oh, my god, Caleb, you scared me,” you spoke through chuckles before wrapping your arms around his neck, “where have you been? I went to talk to Tara real quick, only for you to disappear.”

Caleb pouted before leaning to kiss your cheek, “I’m sorry, pipsqueak, I went to the bathroom, I didn’t make you worry about me, did I?” He cooed, eyes glimmering in puppy-like state. You caressed his cheek while shaking your head.

“No, no, I just wanted to tell you that I want to go home now,” You said.

“Yeah, I think so too, I want to go home too,” Caleb hushes before he leans in to paint your skin with kisses and love bites, while his hands begin roaming down your body, ignoring that you were in public. You gasped at his sudden yet bold public display of affection as you gripped his arm when he began attacking your neck. 

“Caleb!” You whined through your shocked chuckles, “What has gotten into you? There are people around, you can’t have missed me this much.”

Caleb still left trails of kisses before pulling away with a devious smirk, revealing to you a flushed face, “You have no idea… let’s get out of here…” Caleb huskily spoke before he carried you bridal style, making you yelp with astonished, widened eyes. 

Caleb proceeds to drag you away from his sins and crimes, but is it criminal for wanting to take care of an uncomfortable situation his way? Is it a crime if the crime has disappeared into thin air? Caleb took you on a ride that opposes the idea of what your male colleague has gone through. You were rolling in the fields of pleasure and bliss, meanwhile your colleague held uncertainty and mystery. He was last seen at the event, never to be seen again.

Caleb just wanted to protect you from evil, and he can expel it if you tell him so.

ⓒ 2025 all works done by H109zone do not repost, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work.

[cuntboyofficial]

i was possessed by a demon to draw caleb in this pose <3

[cuntboyofficial]

First meeting (Young Odypen)

I honestly don't know what to caption lol

[cuntboyofficial]

a/n; to the happy birthday girl that WE all love. happy birthday @takumasimp 💗

you wake up to the smell of cinnamon. that much is clear.

it’s your day! and your sweetheart is already gone, but the kitchen smells warm, sweet, and inviting. you shuffle out of bed, eyes half lidded and hair a mess, and there’s a little folded note sitting on the counter beside your coffee.

don’t lift the lid on your present until i say so. no peeking! i love you!!! ＾◡＾

your lips curl into a slow smile. you already know he’s planning something stupid and sweet. he’s always like this. big gestures, big feelings with no shame.

you sip your coffee and he walks in, all golden arms and sleepy eyes and boxers hanging low on his hips like he knows you’re going to look. like he wants you to. he's holding something behind his back.

“happy birthday, baby,” ino says, voice warm from his genuine excitement. “you look hot.”

“i just woke up.”

“exactly. perfect.” he leans in and kisses you softly with his sweet lips, thumb brushing over your cheek. “get ready, i wanna give you your present.”

he sets the mystery box in your lap. it’s wrapped in glossy paper with a silky dark red bow, too fancy for whatever dorky thing is probably inside. you open it and there’s a smaller box.. and then another.. and another.. he laughs as you groan, unraveling layer after layer, until finally, at the bottom—!

he’s kneeling on the carpet, arms open, 'ta da', and absolutely nothing else in the box.

“where’s my gift?” you laugh, cheeks feeling warm.

“me,” ino says. “duh.”

you should’ve expected it. because he’s already shirtless now. and smug. and kneeling between your legs, pushing your thighs apart like he knows he belongs there. he kisses your knee. then your inner thigh. then higher. and higher.

“oh. well come here,” you murmur, tugging at his hair. “i wanna unwrap you.”

ino grins, boyish and giddy, and lets you push him onto the floor. lets you climb over him, straddling his hips, pulling his boxers down slow. he’s already half hard, twitching in your hand when you brush your fingers along the base.

“i really hope you like your present,” he mumbles, breath catching.

you smile down at him, warm and glowing.

“i do,” you say, kissing down his chest, “but i think i’m gonna love it.”

and then you take ino's cock in your mouth.

inch by inch, slow and filthy, warm tongue dragging up the underside as he groans and fists the blanket under him. he’s so sensitive in the morning—in general, he's always been so soft and twitchy. just so desperate. you bob your head, easing down until you feel him hit the back of your throat, and when you swallow, his hips buck up.

“fuck—! baby—” he moans, trying so hard to stay still. “you’re gonna—oh my god.”

you pull back just enough to breathe, saliva glistening on your lips as you stroke him with one hand and suck the tip. he’s panting. sweating - already shaking

“feels good?” you ask, teasing, sweet.

ino nods frantically, eyes blown wide. “you’re so—shit—i can't f-finish that.. that fast- oh!”

you flatten your tongue again, taking him deeper, throat flexing around him as he whimpers louder. he tastes like sugar and pre cum- and well, you. your eyes flutter shut as you let him hit the back of your throat, again and again, nose buried against his stomach, spit dripping down your chin.

and when ino soon cums, it’s with a sharp gasp and your name on his lips. you swallow everything. lick him clean. kiss the inside of his thigh to feel him more. he looks wrecked. and happy.

you crawl back up to kiss his face, soft and slow, and he cups your cheek with a shaky hand.

“you’re fucking perfect,” ino whispers. “you really are.”

you giggle against his lips. “you always get so sappy after head. stop.”=which means not to stop and keep going!

“yeah, well.” he sits up, reaching behind the couch because that bastard hid something there!

“you’re not done?” you ask, blinking. “i thought that was the gift..”

“what- no- did you seriously think head was the whole thing- babe! i'm hurt." he then holds out a tiny box with trembling hands. a little smaller than the one you opened earlier. it was a beautiful velvet.

your breath catches.

“wait—”

ino flips the lid open with his thumb with no no hesitation.

the ring is stunning. platinum band, slim and smooth, with a center stone that catches every ounce of light in the room. it's clear, brilliant, but not so flashy. the diamond’s set low, hugged tight by sharp, modern prongs, and on either side, two tiny sapphires sit tucked in—deep blue, nearly black. it’s elegant without being so fussy. it's definitely the kind of thing you’d never wanna stop looking at. the kind of thing he really paid attention to when picking out. it’s perfect. it’s so.. you.

“will you marry me?”

your heart almost jumps out of your chest. your eyes go wide, and suddenly they’re burning with tears you’re not trying to stop.

did he really just say that??? did he really?

without thinking, you throw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “yes!” you whisper, voice shaky. “yes. yes, i will.”

ino kisses the top of your head, fingers threading through your pretty hair, the ring box still lying on the floor between you. and you just can’t believe this is happening.

later, you’ll put it on. later, he’ll fuck you sensual and deep, murmuring my wife over and over into your neck.

so impatient already.

[cuntboyofficial]

you are SO cool 🏃i'm reading all your toji works and holy cow your writing is godly

-> @cuntphoric

OHHHH??? IVE READ SOME OF YOUR WORKS AND THEY’RE SO YUMMY. THANKKK YOUU SO MUCHH AHHHH WTH

[cuntboyofficial]

you’ve been skipping class, flunking labs, and now you’re in his office with a bad throbbing ache between your legs and an even badder grade

you don’t even bother knocking when you walk into his office, because he’s the one who told you to “come in after hours if you want to fix this."

he’s lounging behind his desk like he always is, legs spread wide, shirt unbuttoned just enough to show a sliver of his chest. those ridiculous black sunglasses are perched low on his nose, and when he sees you he smiles.

“look who finally showed up,” he sighed, gesturing lazily to the stack of unfinished lab reports on his desk. “thought you’d given up.”

you shift awkwardly, heart pounding that you swore that felt like . “i just.. didn’t know what to say.”

“good thing you’re not here to talk, then,” he murmurs, pushing his glasses back up. “you’ve been slacking all semester. skipping lectures, half assing labs.. think i wouldn’t notice?”

you try to look apologetic, but it’s hard to think when he stands up and walks toward you, all tall, slow, and hot as hell. he stops when he’s just behind you, so close you can feel the heat of him against your back.

he stops just behind you. doesn’t touch. doesn’t even breathe too loud. but he’s there. close enough to set your skin on fire.

“so,” he says, voice lower now, almost lazy. “what are you gonna do to make up for it?”

you swallow hard. it’s too quiet in the room, and his words feel like a trap you’re already tangled in. “i don’t know,” you mumble, not trusting yourself to meet his eyes. “whatever you think is fair..”

he lets that hang for a second. then laughs softly. “you’re asking me to decide what’s fair?” his breath brushes your neck now, and you feel it—finally, his fingers ghosting over your hip like he’s testing how far you’ll let him go. “baby, that’s dangerous.”

you say nothing. can’t. your pulse is screaming under your skin.

he leans closer, like he’s about to bite out something cruel, but he doesn’t. just murmurs, “you walk in here after weeks of disappearing and tell me whatever i think is fair? you sure you wanna give me that kind of control?”

“i’m here, aren’t i?” you whisper.

his hand finally settles on your waist, grounding, a little too firm. “yeah,” he says. “you are.”

but he doesn’t move. doesn’t do anything, not yet. just lets the tension stretch and snap in the silence, dragging it out because he wants you to squirm.

“bend over the desk,” he says quieter now, “just so we can talk.”

you hesitate this time. you know what he’s capable of when you’re like this - open, stupid with need, desperate for something rough to erase the guilt of failing repeatedly pooling in your chest. but still, you lean forward, hands braced, chest against the desk’s cold edge.

he stands behind you but doesn’t touch. just talks.

“do you even know what you want?” he asks, tone unreadable. “or are you just hoping i’ll figure it out for you?”

your mouth is dry. “i want to fix it.”

he hums. “no, you want to get fucked and pretend that fixes it.”

your breath catches.

“you think showing up wet and pathetic is the same as putting in work?” he presses a hand between your shoulder blades, not to hold you down, but just feel you. “you think that’s gonna cut it?” he sighs.

can this man just do something—

oh. and then—then—you hear the belt.

you don’t hesitate. your hands brace against the cool wood as you feel him behind you, tugging at your waistband, baring you like you’re some toy he gets to play with when the lab’s closed.

and then you hear it. the soft click of his belt.

“count for me,” he says.

the first strike is loud and hot and sharp, making your hips jerk forward and your breath catch in your throat.

“one,” you gasp.

“you can take more than that, right?” he murmurs, and god, he sounds pleased.

he spanks you again, then again, harsh and slow, pausing just enough to let the sting settle before the next. by the seventh you’re trembling, thighs pressed tight, skin burning.

by the twelfth you’re dripping, trying not to grind against the desk to get some- any kind of friction. he leans forward, pressing a kiss just under your ear, voice thick.

“look at you,” he breathes. “all shaky already. i haven’t even fucked you yet.”

when he finally pulls his cock out, he drags the tip along your slit just to pull a reaction out of you and then he pushes in, all at once, no warning, making your body jolt forward as he buries himself deep.

he fucks you like he’s trying to drill the periodic table into your spine—slow at first, grinding deep, then picking up pace until the desk creaks under you. one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your hip, dragging you back onto him like he owns you.

“gonna fix that grade right here,” he pants. “maybe if i fuck you dumb enough, you’ll stop skipping class.”

you’re crying out now, clenching around him, brain static.

“f-fuck—professor—”

he groans, hips stuttering as he slams into you harder, until your legs give and your moans turn into needy whines. and when he comes, it’s with a low growl and a handful of your hair in his fist, cock buried so deep it feels like he’s made a mark inside.

you stay there, folded over the desk, skin warm and used, every nerve fried and twitching. the world’s gone fuzzy around the edges, and your thighs are trembling, stuck between the aftershock and the hot cum inside.

he slides out antagonizing slow. his hands stay on your hips a second longer than they need to, thumbs brushing over the marks he left. then he leans in, and you feel the scratch of his stubble as he kisses the base of your spine—soft and mocking.

his voice is a low purr when he speaks.

“look at you,” he murmurs. “can’t even stand up straight.”

you groan, forehead still pressed to the desk, too gone to argue.

he pulls your panties back up with a tenderness that doesn’t match anything that just happened, then palms your ass one last time that felt too smug.

“extra credit approved,” he says, and when you glance back, he’s buttoning his shirt as if he didn’t just rearrange your guts.

the belt’s still hanging loose around his hips. his smile’s a little crooked. and he’s already reaching for a red pen.

[cuntboyofficial]

woops!