#kento aesthetic

[endlesslywe]

imagination have more twist than reality

𓄹 ⊹ ᳝ ࣪. ⠀ 🍃 🍶 🍵 ˖* . ⊹ 𓄼

[daydreamvalley]

Nanami owning a “husband of the year” mug is all that’s been eating away at my brain.

part 1 of the fic

[ultravioletrayz]

kento nanami moodboard

"The accumulation of those little despairs is what makes a person an adult."

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

💬 reddit

← ⬤  r/relationship_advice • 16 hr. ago       

      1mjust-agirl02

I found out my (22F) sneaky link (25M) is a cult leader. Am I enabling him if we keep hooking up?

First-time poster here. I’ll try to keep this brief. A few months ago, I was going through a rough patch. I’d just moved to the city from a tiny countryside town—a major life change. Sure, it came with perks: a good job, a decent apartment, and better nightlife. But I felt… disconnected. No matter what I did, I couldn’t shake the gnawing loneliness. The more I tried to adapt, the more isolated I felt.

I’ve always been a model citizen—quiet, diligent, never stepping out of line. But in the city, my days dragged, my nights felt darker, and I was slipping into depression. I couldn’t pinpoint why, but everything around me seemed coated in this heavy, negative energy.

That’s when I started frequenting a local bar. It was small, dimly lit, and blissfully cheap. The kind of place where people drank alone to nurse their sorrows. I guess I fit right in.

The bartender knew my order. The regulars were predictable: the middle-aged lady with crimped hair, the clean-cut businessman with tired eyes. I even started to find comfort in the routine. Until he walked in.

It was a random Wednesday at 5 PM. He was tall, with long black hair tied back neatly except for two loose strands framing his sharp, bronze-toned face. Dressed in a plain black sweatsuit, he looked effortlessly suave, even with a grim expression. Our eyes met, for a moment, his stern demeanor softened, replaced by something that felt like intrigue. Without hesitation, he made his way over, settling beside me like it had been his plan all along. He ordered whiskey—straight—and downed it in one smooth gulp.

“You didn’t even flinch,” I blurted, unable to stop myself. “Impressive—or concerning.”

He smirked, devilish and confident. “You don’t even know.”

That was the start. We chatted. Or rather, we danced around anything personal, just sharing vague feelings and flirting between drinks. He had this magnetic sorrow about him, like we were kindred spirits.

The night carried on, the drinks kept coming, and somehow, he kept getting closer. Our knees bumped beneath the booth. He was attractive in that quiet, alluring way—charming. That distant look in his eyes, as though he’d seen too much too soon, only added to his appeal.

I think we both needed a distraction. I laughed at his teasing, swatting playfully at his chest. His dark eyes lingered, and when I fumbled with my glass, he reached over, swiping his thumb across my lips.

What came next was a blur: heated kisses stolen in a dingy bar bathroom, his coarse hands gripping my waist and sliding to the back of my neck. The kiss was messy, whiskey burning on his tongue as it slid against mine. We stumbled back to my apartment in a haze, barely making it inside.

The second the door swung shut, he had me off my feet. My lock hung unlatched as he threw me onto the bed, the impact knocking my head lightly against the headboard. His hands were everywhere—rough and deliberate. My blouse fell open, my slacks tangled around my ankles as he pushed me face-down on the mattress. I heard the shuffle of his sweats coming off, the warmth of his spit trailing down my skin.

He’s big. I struggled to take him, fluttering and gasping as he pressed inside. His hand yanked my head back, forcing me to look. Between the bunched fabric of his sweatshirt held in his teeth and the tense, toned muscles of his abdomen, the sight was utterly debauched. The sounds—slick, lewd—filled the room. By the end, my sheets were damp, my chest marked with his teeth and hands, and I had my first noise complaint from my neighbors.

I thought that would be it. A one-time thing.

But then, the next Wednesday, he was at the bar again.

Now sober, I finally got a good look at him—and somehow, he was even more devastatingly handsome. His sharp features softened by the loose claw clip holding back his hair.

Our dynamic stayed the same: casual conversation, teasing touches, and nights that left me trembling. He was addictive. Every time, his grip was firm, possessive—his habit of squeezing my throat just as my climax approached pushed me to the edge. It had me teetering between bliss and unconsciousness, choking out strangled moans as he drove into me, relentless. It felt like a punishment. It felt like everything I hadn’t realized I’d been missing.

If I were to indulge myself, I’d admit I liked him best when sobriety started creeping back into him. He had this way of reading my body like a map, tracing every nerve and exploiting it until I was trembling, breathless, undone. Sometimes, as he finished—his hair spilling over my face like a curtain—I’d let the lines blur. I’d tell him how good he was, how deeply I felt him, how pretty he looked. And for a fleeting moment, he’d soften, his rhythm slowing, kissing me with an almost tender deliberation.

Weeks later, I got a text and an address:

“Want to see you. Be here at 11. Side door, past the gate.”

Curiosity got the better of me, and I showed up. His house was bigger than I’d expected—too luxurious for someone his age. On the way to his room, I passed a door slightly ajar. Inside, I glimpsed pink walls and a boy band poster. My stomach dropped. Was he married? Did he have kids?

I confronted him immediately. Sitting nervously on his bed, sandwiched between his toned thighs, I listened as he explained. He’d been raising his two orphaned cousins for years. His voice softened as he talked about them—their favorite shows, their quirks, their hobbies. I’d never seen him like this before. The care and pride he showed for them stood in stark contrast to the man I knew intimately.

That night was different. When I came, hard and breathless, his lips brushed mine, our eyes locked, fingers intertwined beside my head. For the first time, I thought I was starting to understand him.

But everything changed soon after.

At work, I passed a bulletin board I usually ignored. For some reason, that day I stopped. A flyer caught my eye—his face stared back at me.

In the photo, he was dressed in a golden kasaya draped over black yukata robes, his serene smile paired with an outstretched arm in a regal, inviting pose. The caption called him a “Buddhist priest” and a “divine leader” of some obscure spiritual group.

Confused, I Googled it. Turns out, it wasn’t just a spiritual group. It was a full-blown cult. The photos showed worshippers kneeling before him, their faces aglow with reverence, calling him a godlike figure.

I couldn’t resist. That evening, I went to the event listed on the flyer, held at a local temple. I slipped into a seat in the back, close to the door. Watching him lead the ritual felt surreal. There he was—calm, composed, draped in robes—like he hadn’t had me screaming into my pillow just days ago.

Then, I saw him lay his hands on a sobbing woman kneeling at his feet. Her cries turned into praises as she clung to him, trembling. It was… chilling.

I barely had a chance to settle in before I felt the need to leave. I thought about ending things right then and there—but I hesitated. Now I’m torn. On one hand, he’s the best I’ve ever had—dominant, attentive, and downright divine in bed. On the other hand… he’s a cult leader.

If I keep seeing him, am I complicit in whatever shady things his group does? Or am I overthinking it—can I keep pretending I know nothing?

Advice is welcome. Don’t hold back.

( ↑  734  ↓ ) ( 🗨️ 1K ) ( ୨୧ ) ( ↳ Share )

⬤ toge-talks-shit  MOD  • 14h ago • 

This is the wildest shit I've read all day. My prayers go out to you, OP—but your hookup might be answering them LOL. Fr though, the cult stuff sounds creepy. Not worth it. ↑  1.5K  ↓ 🗨️ Reply ∘∘∘

⬤ blue-eyes-savelives  • 11h ago • 

OP, message me privately. Did he ever mention old regrets, breakups, or friends? Plz answer. T-T ↑  425  ↓ 🗨️ Reply ∘∘∘

⬤ k-nam_mister73  • 9h ago • 

Delete his number. You should’ve ceased all contact a long time ago. ↑  344  ↓ 🗨️ Reply ∘∘∘

⬤ nobarabara_yaps  • 2h ago • 

He sounds hot. See it through. Gatekeep, Gaslight, Girlboss. ↑  109  ↓ 🗨️ Reply ∘∘∘

[sincerelyyuu]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ dating nanami kento "you are part of my existence, part of myself. you have been in every line i have ever read."

[moodmagicgirl]

Resting in Kuantan, Malaysian 🌊

[chosomindslave]

You’re PREGNANT??

Summary: The adults find/found out you’re pregnant!! Congratulations

Genre: its just a bit on the dark humor side lol

[sammou0]

⭐💜紫世界💜⭐

[slippyteas]

༉*.ﾟ𝙆𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙊 𝙉𝘼𝙉𝘼𝙈𝙄

♫ “𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦”

[wifenanami]

👄 🫦

[animeglitch]

[daydreamvalley]

Winter with Nanami

[haenxn]

ⵓ𓈒 ৡ⃪꫶͜ᩘ◍ -𔒛⠀ ⠀ ▬̸⃨▬⩇. ིུ

⠀ㅇㅇ︶𓈒ི♡̵̼͓̥͒̾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ݄݃ ͏࿙ྀི⃜࿚⃜࿚⃜ ✱݄݃

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

Tiktok Influencer!Gojo Satoru—“She’s a 10 but…” [nxt]

@ sexygojosatoru has made a new post:

“she’s a 10 but…” challenge w/ my students :D (ft. nanamin) #fyp

00:03 =⬤--------------------------- 04:14 ⇆ㅤ ◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷ㅤ ↻

[The video opens with a hand pulling back from the camera to reveal Gojo in the frame. He’s lounging in a cream cable-knit sweater, his signature black circular glasses perched low on his nose. His sky-blue eyes gleam mischievously as he leans closer to the lens, a playful grin stretching across his face. His snowy hair, slightly tousled, flops over his forehead until he sweeps it back with a flick of his pale fingers.]

Gojo: (whispering) “Gojo here! So, today, I’m doing the ‘She’s a 10 but…’ challenge with my adorable students. I plan to stir the pot and, maybe, start a little drama. You know, the usual. Let’s go!”

[The camera cuts abruptly to Yuji’s dorm room. Yuji sits at his desk in front of his PC, wearing a baggy white tee and a chunky blue headset with cat ears. He swivels to face the camera, his expression a mix of curiosity and confusion. Nobara and Megumi’s voices chatter faintly in the background.]

Gojo: “Yuji, my sweet boy, ‘She’s a 10 but… she has a flat ass.’”

Yuji: “Sensei—wha—wait, what?”

[Cut to Yuji again, this time with his headset slung around his neck and his gamer chair spun fully toward the camera.]

Gojo: “—et it?”

Yuji: (grinning, earnest) “Got it! Hi, guys! If she’s a 10 and she’s got a small butt, she’s still a 10. Personality matters more!”

[He throws up an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Gojo groans exaggeratedly.]

Gojo: “Let’s try this again. ‘He’s a 10 but… he hates the Human Earthworm series’.”

[Yuji pauses, scratching his chin as he furrows his brows, clearly torn.]

Yuji: “Hmm… then he’s, like, an 8? I’d be lowkey hurt, but hey, people have different tastes, so I guess I can’t get too mad about it.”

Gojo: “Boooring! Yuji, you’re too pure. This is terrible content. NEXT!”

[The camera swings over to Nobara, who’s striking a pose with one hand on her hip. She’s wearing a plum long-sleeved shirt and flashes a peace sign with a sly grin.]

Gojo: “Nobara! Save me from Yuji’s snoozefest. ‘She’s a 10 but… she’s domineering.’”

Nobara: “Domineering? Like bossy? Assertive?”

Gojo: “Exactly! Dominatrix vibes—minus the leather and whips.”

[Nobara raises an eyebrow, her cheeks faintly pink.]

Nobara: “Still a 10. No shame in a strong woman.”

Gojo: “veery interesting. Okay, ‘He’s a 10 but he’s a hardcore tsundere.’”

[Nobara’s playful grin melts into a grimace.]

Nobara: “Ugh, no. That type of trope is so annoying. Just say you like me already and stop wasting my time. That’s a 4.”

[The camera zooms dramatically to Megumi, lounging on Yuji’s bed with his phone. He glances up, unimpressed, then back at the screen. Gojo lets out a snicker before turning the camera back to Nobara.]

Gojo: “‘He’s a 10 but he’s an eater.””

[Nobara’s face scrunches.]

Nobara: “Oh, Gojo, that's not—CUT!”

[The camera cuts back to Nobara, laughing uncontrollably.]

Gojo: “‘—uck. I meant, ‘He’s a 10 but he ingests questionable things—like he’ll put just about anything in his mouth.””

Nobara:“Wait—like, eats anything? Oh, ew! Yuji vibes. That’s a 1.”

Yuji: (off-screen) “HEY!”

Gojo: “In Yuji’s defense, he has a reason! It’s not like he’s on My Strange Addiction munching on soap.”

Nobara: (deadpan) “Sensei, that’s rich coming from someone whose best friend swallowed ba—”

[The camera cuts abruptly to Megumi, now glaring daggers at Gojo.]

Gojo: “MOVING ON! Say hi to the fans, Megumi. They keep asking if you’re single.”

Megumi: (dry) “Pay me for these features.”

Gojo: “There’s that tsundere charm! ‘She’s a 10 but she interrupts you constantly.’”

Megumi: (flatly) “4. Maybe a 6 if she knows when to stop.”

[The camera swings back to Nobara.]

Gojo (sing-song): “Nobara’s a 4~!”

[Nobara lunges at Gojo, snatching the camera to turn it on him.]

Nobara: ”‘He’s a 10 but he’s like 30 years old, lives off sweets, and takes mirror selfies daily.’”

Yuji: (off-screen) “DRAG HIM!”

Megumi: (smirking) “1.”

[Gojo gasps theatrically and grabs the camera back.]

Gojo: “Betrayed by my own students! No soba for dinner!”

Yuji and Nobara: (wailing) “NOOO!”

Megumi: (shrugging) “It’s not like I said 0, could’ve been worse Gojo-Sensei.”

[The camera sweeps across the room: Nobara stands with her fingers clasped in a dramatic pleading gesture, while Yuji has collapsed to his knees, wailing theatrically. Megumi stands nearby with arms crossed, raising an eyebrow as if to question everyone’s sanity. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, the faint creak of a door interrupts the chaos.]

Nanami: (off-screen) “What’s going on in here?”

[The camera turns to reveal Nanami standing in the doorway, tie slightly loosened.]

Gojo: (grinning ear to ear) “Perfect timing, Nanamin! We’re doing the ‘She’s a 10 but…’ challenge. Your turn!”

Nanami: (deadpan) “If I play along, will you stop asking me to hang out this weekend?”

Gojo: (mock serious) “Deal.”

[Text appears on-screen: “I lied LOL had my toes crossed XD”]

Gojo: (gleefully) “Alright, Nanamin, first question: ‘She’s a 10 but she corrects your grammar.’”

Nanami: (calmly) “A 10. Grammar is important.”

Gojo: “Ugh, buzzkill. Okay, ‘She’s a 10 but she won’t go down on you.’”

Nanami: (stone-faced) “Still a 10. Boundaries matter.”

[Gojo spins the camera toward himself, pouting dramatically.]

Gojo: (to the camera) “This video is flopping! Okay, last one, Grandpa: ‘He’s a 10 but he’s taller and stronger than you.’”

Nanami: (without hesitation) “Still a 10. I’m secure enough in myself to not feel threatened by someone else’s physical attributes.”

Gojo: (waving the camera back to himself) “You guys heard it here first! Nanamin’s totally into me.”

[He smirks, wiggling his eyebrows and delivering a cheesy wink at the lens.]

Gojo: (teasing) “I mean, who can resist my—”

[A collective groan erupts from the students off-screen. The camera shakes, suggesting a struggle, before cutting abruptly to black.]

04:14 =================⬤ 04:14 ⇆ㅤ ◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷ㅤ ↻

[fruitgravies]

following the scent

ig - twt

[moodmagicgirl]

Details of Nanami Kento 🗞️👓