kayla0911

[kayla0911]

“Starlight and Strawberries”

Featuring Satoru Gojo (fluffy, sweet, boyfriend vibes)

⸻

It was one of those warm June evenings where the breeze smelled faintly of flowers and fresh fruit. You had just finished dinner, the dishes stacked neatly in the sink, when Gojo tugged you outside with that childlike grin he always wore when he was up to something.

“Where are we going?” you laughed, barefoot as he led you across the soft grass behind the house.

“You’ll see,” he said, tone playful and mysterious. “Trust the man with the strongest taste in romantic surprises.”

You rolled your eyes but let yourself be pulled along. With Gojo, plans were rarely predictable—but they were always memorable.

He finally stopped at a little blanket he had set up under the stars. It was littered with soft pillows and a little basket of snacks: chocolate-covered strawberries, your favorite juice in glass bottles, and a Bluetooth speaker quietly playing some lo-fi love songs.

“Gojo…” you blinked. “You did all this?”

He dropped dramatically onto the blanket and patted the spot beside him. “Who else, babe? I’m full of surprises. Also,” he smirked, “I may or may not have stolen these strawberries from Nanami’s fridge.”

You gasped. “You what?!”

Gojo just laughed, head tilted back. “Relax. I left him a note. It says: ‘Don’t worry, your fruit is being used for love.’”

You doubled over, laughing. That was Gojo—ridiculous and reckless, but weirdly sweet about it. You leaned into him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, his other hand feeding you a strawberry with exaggerated flair.

“Romantic, right?” he asked.

“Very,” you smiled, snuggling into his side.

He fell quiet for a moment, his usual loud energy softening as he looked up at the sky. “You know… Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky. All the chaos, the danger—I don’t deserve this. You.”

You turned your head toward him. “Hey,” you whispered. “You do.”

He met your eyes then, the night air suddenly quiet around you. In the starlight, his white lashes seemed to shimmer.

“Even if the world gets ugly again,” he said, voice low and certain, “I’ll always make space for nights like this. For you.”

You kissed him gently, and he smiled into it.

Then—

“Also, I made sure to bring bug spray because I do draw the line at ants ruining the mood.”

You laughed again, this time harder. And he beamed, like making you laugh was the whole reason he existed.

⸻

[kayla0911]

✨Hey everyone! I’m glad that you are enjoying the one shots and such! I take requests so please feel free to ask me to write something for you guys! ✨

[kayla0911]

Title: “Distraction”

Nanami Kento x Reader (NSFW, soft dom/sub dynamics, office clothes kink, aftercare, established relationship)

Based on this post I saw!

⸻

You leaned against the doorway, watching him.

Kento hadn’t noticed you yet, too focused on the deliberate rhythm of his body moving up and down. The fabric of his royal blue shirt clung to his broad back, a patch of sweat spreading between his shoulder blades. His leopard-print tie dangled toward the floor, grazing it with every descent, like it was exhausted too.

You bit your lip.

He looked good like this—too good. Tense arms flexing with each push-up, sleeves rolled up just enough to tease you. His wristwatch glinted in the low light, and that damn tie…

You stepped forward, slow and deliberate.

“I didn’t know you worked out in your dress shirt,” you said softly.

He froze mid-push-up—only for a second—then resumed, his voice a low rumble. “Didn’t want to waste time changing.”

“You didn’t want to waste time…” You knelt down beside him. “Or you wanted me to walk in on this?”

That earned you a glance. Just a flick of his golden-brown eyes. But it was hungry.

“You’re distracting,” he muttered, jaw tight.

You reached down, fingertips brushing his tie, lifting it off the floor. “You could’ve taken this off,” you whispered, pulling it slowly through your hand. “But you didn’t.”

The next push-up he did was slower—intentional. His breath hitched just slightly.

You climbed over him, knees on either side of his hips, straddling him mid-push-up. “Keep going,” you whispered, voice velvet-sweet. “Don’t stop on my account.”

He grunted, arms visibly trembling—not from exertion, but from restraint.

Two more push-ups, and his chest barely brushed against your inner thighs. His breath was hot, shallow now. The next time he came down, you leaned forward and kissed him—quick and dirty—right on the corner of his mouth.

He lost it.

The next second, he surged up, grabbing your hips and flipping you beneath him with effortless strength. You landed with a gasp, wrists pinned above your head.

“Now look what you’ve done,” he murmured against your neck, voice rough, unraveled.

Your thighs spread instinctively, your body already arching into him. “Don’t blame me. You’re the one who—”

You gasped again as his tie slipped from his collar and he used it to bind your wrists together, the silk warm from his skin.

“Quiet,” he breathed, eyes dark and tender all at once. “I’m not done working out.”

⸻

Your clothes came off slowly. His didn’t.

Nanami liked control. He liked order. So when he fucked you—still in that damn shirt, the top few buttons undone, sweat clinging to his skin, muscles working beneath fabric—you felt owned in the most delicious way.

He took you slow and deep, one hand cradling your tied wrists above your head, the other on your thigh, guiding you open. The friction of his slacks between your bodies drove you wild.

“You feel that?” he whispered against your ear. “That’s what you do to me. Just from watching.”

You whimpered, hips rising to meet his every thrust, the tie biting into your wrists as you tugged against it.

Nanami didn’t rush. He edged you—kissed you, praised you, ruined you—until you came with a cry, legs shaking around his waist. Only then did he let himself fall apart inside you, muffling his moan in the crook of your neck.

⸻

Later, he untied your wrists with a kiss to each. You were tangled together on the floor, the carpet warm beneath your bare skin, his tie still loosely draped around your hands.

“You’re insufferable,” he murmured, brushing your hair back.

“But motivated,” you whispered, breathless. “Very… focused.”

He chuckled softly, pulling you to his chest. “Tomorrow, I’m locking the door.”

“Liar.”

“…Maybe.”

[kayla0911]

⸻

“After Hours – Part Two ”

Nanami Kento x Reader – Slow-Burn, Mature, Dominant

You’d never seen Nanami like this before — stripped of his usual restraint, sleeves rolled, tie loose, mouth set in a line that promised more than words ever could. He looked at you like a man who had waited too long.

And now that he had you, he wasn’t going to waste a second.

His mouth was at your neck again, lips hot and insistent, tongue dragging over the sensitive spot just below your ear. You gasped, and his hand tightened at your waist, pressing your hips back against the breakroom couch.

“You don’t know,” he murmured against your skin, “how long I’ve imagined having you like this.”

His voice was dark and low — not rushed, but intense. Like he needed to feel every inch of you under his hands. Like control was something he wanted to break slowly, piece by piece.

“Then stop imagining,” you said, breathless. “Take me.”

The growl that left his throat was pure heat.

His hands were firm as they slid beneath your shirt, lifting it over your head and tossing it aside. He didn’t just look — he took in the sight of you, pupils darkened, chest rising slightly faster.

“Lie back.”

You obeyed, the command in his tone making your whole body tighten in anticipation.

Nanami’s fingers traced your bra strap, then slowly, methodically, undid the clasp. You arched into the sensation, but he placed one hand firmly on your sternum to keep you in place.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “I said I’d take my time.”

He leaned down and kissed along your chest, lips open and wet, tongue circling one nipple until you whimpered. Then the other. He took his time lavishing attention on you — not hurried, not impatient. Controlled. Dominant. Deliciously thorough.

“Already shaking,” he whispered, smirking against your skin. “And I haven’t even touched you where you really want me to.”

You bit your lip.

“Say it,” he demanded softly. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want your mouth,” you said. “I want you to touch me there. I want your fingers. I want—”

He was already sliding your pants down, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach as he did. Your underwear followed, and when he finally looked at you fully bare beneath him, his voice dropped to something almost reverent.

“You’re perfect,” he said.

Then he sank to his knees and pulled your legs apart, spreading you open with strong hands and a gaze that burned with possession. His mouth descended slowly, lips pressing hot kisses to your inner thighs before his tongue finally tasted you.

You moaned — loudly — and his grip on your hips tightened, pinning you down.

“You’ll keep still for me,” he said between licks. “I’ll tell you when you can move.”

Your head dropped back as he worked — slow, methodical, devastating. Nanami licked and sucked until you were shaking, his fingers eventually joining the rhythm, curling exactly where you needed them. He read your body like a map, knowing the turns, the pace, the moment your body started to climb.

But he stopped.

Just before you could fall over the edge.

You cried out, thighs trembling. “Why did you—?”

“Because,” he said, pulling himself up, undoing his belt with one hand while the other pinned your wrists above your head, “I told you: I take my time.”

He leaned over you, eyes blazing. “And you’ll come when I say.”

You moaned at the sound of leather sliding free, his pants falling to the floor.

He didn’t tease then. Not anymore.

He thrust into you in one deep stroke, burying himself completely as you gasped his name. He groaned at the feeling — at the heat, the tightness, the way you clung to him.

“This is mine now,” he said, voice rough and possessive.

You wrapped your legs around him instinctively, trying to pull him closer, but Nanami grabbed your thighs and pushed them wide apart, holding you open for him.

“Take it,” he growled, hips snapping into yours with precision and power. “Take every inch like a good girl.”

You couldn’t hold back the sounds that left you — each thrust filled you to the core, his weight above you grounding you, his control pushing you toward bliss in slow, devastating waves.

He kissed you hard — deep and commanding — as he rolled his hips just right, the drag of him inside you sending sparks up your spine.

“Say it,” he whispered. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you cried, clinging to him. “Nanami, please—”

Only then did he let you fall.

His hand slipped between you, rubbing tight circles just where you needed, and you shattered beneath him, crying out his name like a prayer. He groaned as you clenched around him, following you with a deep thrust and a low, broken moan of his own as he spilled into you.

Silence followed, thick with sweat and breathlessness. He stayed above you for a long moment, forehead against yours, eyes closed as he came down from the high.

Then, with rare tenderness, he pulled you into his arms and kissed your temple.

“I’ve wanted that for too long,” he said quietly. “And I’m not letting it go.”

You smiled, utterly spent, and whispered, “Good. Because neither am I.”

⸻

[kayla0911]

I’ve been sitting on these stories for a long time! And I finally want to start posting! Here is my first story and please let me know if I should keep posting!

“After Hours”

A Nanami Kento x Reader Short Story

The clock on the office wall ticked quietly, echoing in the silence. The rest of the building had long since emptied, leaving only the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the tapping of keys as you worked late — again.

You’d always told yourself it was the workload, the endless missions, the ever-mounting paperwork of working within Jujutsu High’s Tokyo branch. But deep down, you knew exactly why you stayed behind so often.

Nanami Kento.

Ever composed. Impeccably dressed. Irritatingly efficient — and infuriatingly attractive. There was something about the way his tie always seemed just a little too tight, the way he took off his jacket before working as though preparing for battle. Even the way he held a pen, steady and decisive, left you breathless more than once.

You’d been dancing around each other for months — silent glances across meetings, subtle tension when you passed one another in the hallway. He always addressed you formally, voice calm and precise, but his eyes… his eyes said everything his mouth did not.

So when you caught the sound of his footsteps approaching behind you in the empty hallway — low, confident, unhurried — your breath caught.

“Still here?” he asked, voice like velvet over glass.

You didn’t turn around. “Same as you.”

“I’m not surprised.” A pause. “You always overwork yourself.”

You arched a brow, eyes still focused on the screen. “Says the man who clocks in before the sun and doesn’t leave until well after everyone else.”

He stepped closer. You could feel him at your back, the heat of his presence bleeding into your skin like a storm about to break.

“I’m efficient,” he murmured. “You? You stay for other reasons.”

You finally turned to look at him.

He was standing close. Too close.

His jacket was off, sleeves rolled up, and his tie hung loose against the open collar of his shirt. For once, the perfect image of control seemed… unraveled. On purpose.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, but your voice betrayed you — softer, breathier than you’d meant.

Nanami stepped in, bracing a hand against the desk beside you, his body angled just enough to crowd yours, to make your heart race.

“You do,” he said. “You’ve known for a while.”

You swallowed hard, fingers tightening on the edge of your desk. “Then say it.”

He looked at you — truly looked — and something shifted behind his eyes. The restraint he wore like armor cracked, just a little.

“I want you,” he said. “I’ve wanted you for months. And I’m tired of pretending professionalism is more important than honesty.”

Your breath hitched.

“And what if I’ve been waiting for you to say that?” you whispered.

Nanami’s gaze dropped to your lips. “Then I’d say you’ve waited long enough.”

He leaned in, slow and deliberate, giving you every second to pull away — but you didn’t. You met him halfway.

The kiss was everything you’d imagined: firm, commanding, full of a tightly coiled need finally unraveling. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he deepened the kiss. You moaned softly against his mouth, and he growled — low and barely restrained.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“You’re mine now,” he said, his voice rough with control. “If you’ll have me.”

Your answer came in the form of another kiss — fierce and unshaken.

“I already do.”

[kayla0911]

WOOF 🐶

WONWOO for ARENA HOMME+ KOREA, august 2024.

[kayla0911]

Call me out why don’t you…

seungcheol is for the girlies who never put themselves first, who always go for the smallest portions of foods just so others can have the bigger ones, who always listen to their mother even if it hurts, who don't have a good relationship with their father, who barely wants to open up, who are ambitious, who are hesitant of buying something for themselves, who have always been the therapist friend, who are fierce, who always blames themselves, who are afraid of no storms but seeing their family members struggling, who are overprotective about their siblings, who thinks there is no one in this world to save them, who never loved their hair, who is the eldest daughter of the family.

[kayla0911]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐕 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐎

Eren Yeager:

✋😧🤚

“Shoot my fault”

Onyankopon:

👴🏾🕶️🤏🏾

“Gah Dayumm”

Gojo Satoru:

✋🥺

“Stop! this isnt you queen”

Nobara Kugisaki

👩🏾🤏🏻

“That’s why you about to get snatched out your frontal”

Roronoa Zoro:

😐👎

“Stfu+nobody cares”

Portgas d Ace:

👉😝👈

“LALALALALALALALALALA”

Guys it’s one Am and I can’t sleep lol

[kayla0911]

I LOVE THIS MAN SO MUCH!! 🥹🥹☺️🥹

🤍 HAPPY WONWOO DAY 💙 #원우만의_속도로_행복한_생일이길 #KeepSmilingForWonwooDay