Hi

hi<3 tysm for 250 followers, that's wild!! i'm so happy that others are enjoying the output of my horniness for appreciation of our fav 2d men

~a little about me!~ • somehow new to tumblr in the year of our lord 2024 though i've been tumblr-adjacent for much longer • 25, married, work a 9-5 by day & write by night • current hyperfixations include Spike Spiegel Cowboy Bebop, Nanami and Higuruma JJK, and Nicholas D. Wolfwood Trigun (basically exhausted men in suits)

• outside of fandom I love to play video games, make music, crochet, take photos, and explore new places!

• was briefly an archaeologist and am still v much into academia as a hobby

• happy to chat and make new friends!! feel free to dm 💫

I’m just a kid (and life is a nightmare)

dad!Nanami & kid!Yuji

commissioned this amazing piece from @yuutaguro for chapter two of my teen papamin au in which Nanami reluctantly adopts Yuji right after graduating from Jujutsu High and leaving the sorcerer world! [chapters 1-3 on ao3]

Everything had been going so well. Nanami would begin his office job on Monday, the same day that Yuji’s school year started. He had just taken Yuji to buy his uniform, and a shiny new backpack. It wasn’t until he was going back over the supply list and dress code that the trouble started.

“Yuji, you have to cut your hair! It’s not me, it’s the school’s stupid rule.”

Yuji stuck out his tongue and ran around the table, avoiding Nanami’s grasp. “Don’t wanna!” He shouted back.

“I know! But you have to anyway!” Nanami chased him back around the other side. “It’s not up for debate!”

“DON’T WANNA!”

Nanami stopped running and covered his face with his hands, taking deep breaths. The kid was driving him crazy. Hell, he agreed with him. He probably would’ve been just as pissed about cutting his hair at that age, but damn if it wasn’t frustrating on the other side. “Look, I’m sorry the dress code is annoying. I am! But you’re gonna get in trouble if we don’t tame that pink mop on your head!” God, I sound like my dad, Nanami thought glumly.

Yuji flung himself around the corner and peeked out. “But I don’t wanna , Nanaminnn!!”

“I know.” He gave a long sigh. “Can you tell me why?”

“I wanna look like you!”

“You- what?” Nanami was thrown for a loop. Yuji could barely see through his hair at this point, it looked nothing like… oh no. Nanami skidded into the bathroom and stared in the mirror. Yuji came hurtling behind him, just barely able to peek over the countertop on his tiptoes.

“See, Nanamin? We’re the same!”

The kid had a point. Nanami stared at his face, noticing for the first time that he had let his hair get quite long. It just didn’t seem like a priority, not after…well. He shook his head, tossing the long shock of blonde hair out of his eyes. Yuji peered up at him, looking annoyingly smug.

“See, you see?”

“Yeah, I see, Yuji.” Maybe it was time that he matured his look. At least a little. “I guess I have a mop up there too, huh?” He couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Yuji imitated his nod. “I have an idea for how we can fix this.”

Everyone in the barbershop couldn’t help but smile at the strange pair that walked in, the serious, blonde teenager and his hyper, pink-haired companion.

“Awww, is this your little brother?” The receptionist cooed.

“Uh, no, this is my…Yuji.” Nanami cringed at himself, but the kid holding his hand beamed.

“Yeah, I’m his Yuji!!”

The two boys politely requested the same haircut, and Nanami went first to reassure Yuji. “See? Doesn’t hurt at all, okay? Bet you’re gonna look cooler than me.”

Nanami watched himself in the mirror as the barber went to work. It wasn’t like he was attached to his look or anything, at least he told himself so. But change was weird. By the end of it, he could see more of his forehead than he had in years. He looked older, like a salaryman.

“What do you think, kid?” Yuji looked at him thoughtfully.

“You look like a grown-up, Nanamin!”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” He laughed. “Your turn, Yuji. Think you can be brave?”

“Yeahh! Brave like you!” Yuji slid into the seat and reached out a hand, which Nanami held tight.

By the end of it, Nanami’s hair was slicked into a deep side part, with a few stubborn strands escaping into his eyes. Yuji’s hair still spung up at all angles. It suited him, though. And more importantly, fit the school dress code.

Nanami took Yuji out to their favorite bakery on the way home as a reward. The boy eagerly gobbled down a pink-frosted doughnut with extra sprinkles while Nanami sipped coffee with a slice of lemon cake. “We did well today, huh kid?”

Yuji nodded proudly with a faceful of frosting. “Yeah, we did great! And we still look the same as each other!”

Nanami squinted at him, but couldn’t bring himself to burst the kid’s bubble. “We sure do. Maybe we could switch places, and you could go into work for me!”

Yuji doubled over with laughter. “No way Nanamin!”

“You sure? I could go to school for you, do all your homework…” he teased.

Yuji appeared to be considering the offer, then shook his head, still giggling. “Nuh-uh!”

“Ah, well.” Nanami pretended to sigh. “Worth a try.”

thank you for writing this 🥹🥹

content warning: fluff, hurt and lots of comfort, written in mixed style (head canon + fic), non-explicit smut, post Shibuya scarred Nanami. Loosely inspired by the song “gilded lily”.

Nanami Kento, who opened his eyes while on a hospital bed, barely feeling the left side of his body after Shoko tended to him, just to find you by his bedside finishing wrapping him up with bandages as a hurricane of emotions took over your face — fear, panic, anger, sadness, eagerness... 

Relief.

Nanami Kento, who reached towards your forearm with his unburnt hand, completely ignoring the bandages covering a good portion of his own face, glad to know that the last time he saw you wasn’t, in fact, the last. He had lived a proper life without regrets, or so he thought, up until those fateful moments in which he believed he was about to die without ever telling you how he truly felt.

Nanami Kento, who for the next few days, while bedridden and feeling useless after Gojo’s sealing in the prison realm, had the time to contemplate the life he’d been living so far, and wondered with an untapped honesty if the death of a pawn soldier — what he had been reduced to after such an influx of special grades — would really be relevant in this war. Would he be missed?

Nanami Kento, who had many visitors throughout the following days, such as Yuuji, Ino, Ijichi and Megumi, and shared the quiet comfort from your companionship every time you weren’t elbow-deep assisting Shoko with the wounded. He’d ask you to read for him. He said it was only needed while he got used to seeing with one eye, but the truth of the matter was Nanami just enjoyed listening to your voice. You knew and you didn’t mind. In fact, you actually enjoyed reading aloud by his bedside as you both ventured through Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms.

Nanami Kento who, for some reason, woke up on the wrong side of the bed the morning he was to remove his bandages, and cringed as he saw the scarred, burnt skin that was hidden underneath. Not because of any aesthetic discomfort, — he’d grown accustomed to seeing far worse on the daily — but because now he’d forever be engraved with the violence and viciousness of the life he chose. A constant reminder, literally in the flesh, of everything he almost lost. Every future, chance or opportunity that would’ve been thrown away on a whim during that night in Shibuya. 

Nanami Kento, whose jaw unclenched and shoulders untensed when you wrapped your fingers around his burnt hand, and who turned to regard you with his bandaged head and eye. Who genuinely and warmly smiled when you gave him the small eye patch in yellow splattered fabric you had sewn using one of his ties, apologizing in advance for rummaging through his things without talking to him first. You explained about asking for Ino’s help to fetch one of those. With this eye patch, you told Nanami, he would “have an all matching attire.”

Nanami Kento, who made a half-hearted remark about chastising Ino for using his copy of Nanami’s apartment key to go behind his back, but spared no time in actually removing his final bandages — while turning away from you — and covering the gaping hole where his eye should be with the accessory.

Nanami Kento, who one day before getting officially discharged, felt he was once again letting the opportunity of telling you how he felt slip through his fingers. The fear and the urgency from before were gone, life was once again moving in its own settled way, and you both would surely go back to tiptoeing quietly around the unsaid.

You both knew what it meant, and neither could muster up the courage to say it out loud, even with him having just survived certain death. Not even then.

Nanami Kento, who on that very evening wrapped his fingers softly around your wrist as you got up to leave for the night. Who, after you asked him if he needed anything, absentmindedly answered “you,” making your heart skip a beat.

Nanami Kento, who instantly regretted it, and wondered what could’ve possessed him to say that, but as he began apologizing, his words got muffled by the pressing of your lips against his. Who didn’t think twice before pulling you closer, having you almost fall on top of  his supine body.

Nanami Kento, who was too tired. Exhausted, even. Exhausted of waiting, of pretending, of denying himself the comfort of a less grueling existence in the comfort of your embrace, of your kisses, of you. 

Nanami Kento, who gasped into your mouth the moment you straddled over him, so gently that the bed barely moved, and drew his hands up your back, leaving a trail of heat wherever they traveled. Who hesitated for a moment when your fingers motioned to remove the eye patch you gave him, but obliged after you asked him “please, let me see you,” melting into the soft pecks you laid all over his scarred cheek, imprinting your affection on him one kiss at a time.

Nanami Kento, who was genuinely surprised to see that you, too, had a good portion of your body covered in scars from previous missions after you propped yourself up and took off your shirt. He gently descended the tips of his fingers in between your breasts, where the deepest of the marks laid gravely over your sternum. “I never knew,” he whispered, to which you replied “It comes with the job, I guess. None of us survives this truly unscathed.” 

Nanami Kento, whose dexterous hands kneaded around your body, committing every inch to memory, as all of your garments slid down onto the floor, like all the other things that didn’t matter at that moment — the losses, the fear, the past, the duty.

Nanami Kento, who had you with urgent kindness, as you both gave yourselves entirely to each other. He felt your body wave and flow on top of him, just like the soothing, fresh waves from the beach he thought he’d never get to see.

Nanami Kento, who for the first time ever since waking up from a sure death, felt a warmth capable of pushing away the cold grip of death around his throat, your warmth. 

Nanami Kento, who had survived. Who was glad that you did too, and loved you with no apologies through each second of it all, all touch, and kiss, and tongue, and smell, and taste, and breath, and promise.

Nanami Kento, whose arms wrapped around your body as he whispered against your lips, soft pleas none of you could put into words, but both knowing what they meant. He held you tightly as you unraveled for him, muffling your cries of his name with his mouth.

Nanami Kento, who was enthralled by the sound of his name in your voice, your need, your pleas, your smell, your flesh, your desire, and it was all too much, as he filled you whole while sinking his palms over your thighs, pushing himself as deep as he could.

Nanami Kento, who kept you in his embrace while your ear rested right over his chest, and you could hear each and every heartbeat echoing through him. Who asked you to stay the night, and you knew, right then and there, that you would.

You, who knew that no matter what happened, you’d never leave Nanami’s side from that day on.

End notes: I always wanted to write a post-Shibuya Nanami piece, and the inspiration finally hit! A huge thank you to @redlikerozez and @rahuratna for beta reading this.💜

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

UHHHHM

cockwarming Hiromi Higuruma at work

you’re kneeling under his desk, straining to hold his throbbing length in your mouth as he reads through case files

you’re long past caring about the drool that drips from your stretched lips to your aching knees, your mind overwhelmed with the salt-tang taste of his skin, the weight of one big hand absently stroking your hair

he’s humming softly to himself as he scrawls notes and plots his defense, lost in his own world while you breathe hard through your nose, fighting to stifle your gag reflex

he shifts ever so slightly, his chair nudging forward, pinning your head against the back of the wooden desk

the movement forces his thick cock an inch further down your throat and you choke, eyes rolling back to the sound of hiromi’s muffled groan

the feeling of your throat spasming around him rips the lawyer back to reality, and he rocks his sharp hips against you, before shoving his chair back and pulling out

he leans forward to peer down at you, his sharp nose crinkling as he smiles, somehow looking both smug and sheepish as his spit-soaked cock twitches against his abs

you glare up at him through watery eyes, one hand clutching your wrecked throat as you gasp and retch

“Sorry, my love. I was a bit lost in thought.”

you open your mouth to complain, or maybe to forgive him, but you don’t get the chance before he’s shoving himself back down your throat with mumbled apologies, thick fingers tangling in your hair to hold your lips against him

“Mmm that’s it, you feel so- hah s’good love, just a little longer, need your pretty mouth to keep my thoughts straight…need to figure out how to conclude this…”

his praises trail off as you hear his pen start scratching again, and you settle back on your knees, closing your eyes as you let yourself turn back into a cock warmer for him

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

an: i’m working on a long-form office romance with Higuruma but have hit a wall, hope you enjoy the filthy result of my writer’s block