cass ꩜

SWEET ON YOUR TONGUE ☆

[unmillion]

♡ ︵ 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝗲?ㅤ —‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲?

cass, she + her. xv. gemini. entp-t. zatanna's protege. ୧  🫖  .   requests are open

[unmillion]

heesung leaving enhypen really just sealed the deal on 2026 and we're only 3 months in...

[unmillion]

꩜ — nights like these

Leon Kennedy rarely sleeps well. He’s not a man who tosses or turns on nights when he feels your warmth; his eyes are only shut lightly as his system stays on guard whenever you’re vulnerable. His eyes flutter open whenever you move, fingertips only lightly touching your skin as he watches you— Leon tried to commit every freckle and curve of your body to memory. For cold nights spent in parts of the world he was convinced he wouldn’t make it out of. An escape back to the moments of peace his body still wouldn’t let him enjoy to the fullest. 

The nights he did fall into your bed were ones where you had to shake him out of the moments he tried not to relive. The softness of your hand running against the scars that littered his bicep in the dim light from the city streets below your shared apartment, the world moving around him in the few moments he tried to rest. He tries his best not to regret those few moments when you see him shaken, his back bare and chest heaving as he turned against you and sat on the edge of the bed, unable to look you in the eye with the skewed horrors still flashing behind them.  

Even though he didn’t exactly sleep in bed, everything about it felt sacred. Those small moments that filled the bedroom that you shared— a life Leon never expected to be able to have, somehow filled his mind like scenes from the romcoms that you were watching as he rested his head on your thighs in the early evenings.

The way he reached for your wrist as you tried to get up, lightly pleading for a few more moments that he could commit to memory before he would be separated from you once more. He needed your warmth to give him life again, to give him reason to keep pushing himself as he was torn away from the life that he was so close to having— a life that Leon Kennedy should have had. 

[unmillion]

꩜ — "when it comes to be 𝙢𝙮 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣 / I 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪"

Leon Kennedy is the type of man who has everything in order when he comes home. He may be a ticking time bomb of mental instability and constant liability, but his finances are most definitely in check— he’s prepared, prepared for when something happens and you might be left alone in the house that you swore he made a home. He knew when he met you that you were the one that he had been fighting for all these years, just waiting for the person who would make all of this worth it, who he was creating a safer world for. 

He never told you, but you were going to be on the deed to his house before he could manage to say I love you. Leon was a man of service, a man who noticed those little things— the small details of what hair products you ran out of first and the specific type of pasta you like. Everything written down, made known in writing for whoever would take up the mantle of caring for you when death eventually caught up to him. Your name was in his will before he could muster up the courage to ask you to marry him, still that shy twenty-one-year-old who only got to come out again when he was with you. 

Leon was the type of man who wanted to make sure you would be okay without him. After all, what was he thinking, falling in love in his line of work? Truly a madman. 

He wanted you to love again, a life without having to stress about groceries or car payments or anything that he could provide, even after death. Chris and Claire knew better than anyone, small reminders whenever he went on a mission that they needed to stop by from time to time, or the fact that he made sure you memorized their numbers before he left for months at a time. Every horror that he faced paid for a life that he wanted to give you, the white picket fence with a dog and children (if you wanted some, of course). Even if he didn’t make it back tonight, even if he never got to see your face again, Leon knew you would be okay. 

That's the only peace Leon Kennedy had at night, the thought lingering in the dark spaces he didn’t want to visit in the small amount of time he had to be surrounded by your light. The love of his life would be okay without him. 

when i tell you he came on screen as i was playing and i cried

[bingowithleon]

can ww3 wait til i finish requiem? thnxx

[unmillion]

sorry i like died for a week school is kicking my ass and im avoiding resident evil posts but the drafts are calling .. (higuruma x reader x nanami)

[unmillion]

Hiromi Higuruma swore he would only smoke when he was stressed, an addiction hazed by smoke and his own delusion of self-control— sure, it was easier in college. Still on the brink of collapsing from exhaustion, but Hiromi went into the world thinking he could change it. Thinking he could be the better man in the hellhole of a world he was thrown into after senior high. 

The funny part of his life now is that if you ever happened to look up the modern definition of the word stress, a photo of him sitting at his desk would probably show up. He tried his best to control himself, only smoking on the balcony once you were asleep or saying he was going for a walk when you were at home. He hated the look on your face when you found them in his nightstand or the small gap in your kitchen cabinets that he hid a few packs between from time to time. 

He needed to change. After all of the years he trudged through watching person after person meet a fate worse than death, you were the only reason he continued even attempting to change this damn city. In truth, he would do anything to see you smile. To not have the few moments he had with you when he finally walked through that door each night, have mentions of the cigarette smell on his breath when you kissed. He didn't want your memory of him to be shadowed by an undeniable disdain for something he couldn’t stop going back to. 

He only wanted to keep going back to you. 

So he tried. Every pack in the house was thrown away in the alley garbage that was too far for him to easily slip away to find— every hiding spot coming up empty as he shamefully rustled through the cabinets in the middle of the night. You watched as his eyes flickered from the tv when the two of you sat on the couch, to the small pockets of space that used to be consumed by his lighter or a pack of his favorite brand. He gnawed on the edge of a wooden pencil that followed him home from the office, a desperate attempt to have something to do with his mouth when you were busy. 

That's when it clicked. 

“Lolipop?” 

You shook the bag in front of him, a stick dangling out of your mouth as you began to make yourself comfortable against his shoulder as he worked— his sleeves were rolled up to his elbow, his tie sagging against his collar as his glasses kept slipping off the bridge of his nose. He glanced up from his computer for a split second, his lips pressing against your cheek as he took one before you lost him in his work for the rest of his night. The bag that you left next to his laptop that night followed him around the house over the next few days, a lollipop constantly finding its way back into his mouth no matter what he was doing. Going to get groceries? He needs one for the road. Dishes? What's the harm in enjoying a root beer Dumdum in the process? He smiles to himself as he finds the cluster you dropped in his work bag as he rustles through his papers. His coworkers watched as the wrappers flooded the small garbage can on the side of his desk, a lollipop held in his fingers as he debriefed before a trial.

Higuruma only had two addictions now. Lollipops, and the person who got him hooked on them. 

[unmillion]

— Kento Nanami versus... Animal Crossing? 

Highly regarded grade one sorcerer Kento Nanami... plays Animal Crossing in his downtime? He truly has no way to defend himself. It all started when he finally got you that Nintendo Switch you were agonizing over in every shop window— he prided himself on believing he was a good gift-giver, one that remembered those little things you mentioned. A little video game couldn’t do any harm, right?

Wrong. 

Very Wrong.

You and the switch practically came in a pair— the screen lighting up your face way past any reasonable hour. No way he was getting cockblocked by a few 3D animals on a screen that weren’t even that cute. The chittering sounds of the villagers rattled in his brain like tinnitus at all hours of the day. When he finally brought it up, attempting to lower the screen from your face as his arms slithered around you, he was only met with protest and the line ‘I would like to see you keep up the demands of a five-star island, Ken.” Now, Nanami never wanted to intentionally prove you wrong— he believed that it was against the vows that he took when he married you to purposefully irritate you, but how hard could it possibly be? 

It started normally, asking questions as to how he played and why he was the only resident paying any money to the island— you know, usual Kento questions. Then it spiralled. He didn’t need any help, just thirty minutes to four hours a night dedicated to paying off his in-game debt and picking up pixelated weeds. It became a part of his routine, a kiss on your forehead after dinner, and almost immediately sprinting to get to the switch before you could. Glasses perched on the tip of his nose as your legs sprawled atop his while you tried watching a movie without his arms wrapped around you, giving him a side glance every so often as he hogged your switch.

Your glares and side eyes led to him finally looking up at you, whispering a sorry into your ear as he scooched close enough for your thighs to touch, and his lips were able to pepper kisses onto your neck. He sat with his leg shaking and fingers tapping along the couch’s armrest until you finally caved, asking to see his island. He might as well have had a tail that was wagging as he excitedly picked back up the switch like a little boy with too little screen time, listening to you micromanage and judge the fact that he hadn’t customized his flag or island theme yet. The small beaches were decorated with lawn chairs and palm trees as the small blonde character walked around, and he introduced you to all of his villagers as if you were at one of his work dinners. 

When his birthday finally came around, you placed a box on top of his lap as you sat across from him, legs crossed on the plush cushions as he undid the blue ribbon around the wrapping paper. 

He laid eyes on his own switch, the small blue version that he could put into his work bag if he ever happened to be bored. “What’s this for?” He cocked his head to one side, a contagious smirk growing on his lips. “I’m just borrowing yours.” Your lips let out a sigh that attempted to conceal the smile growing on your face, cheeks beginning to flush as you threw your arms up in the overly exaggerated exasperation that he had a soft spot for. “I’m tired of you hogging the gift you got me,” you huffed as his hands lifted to lightly drag his thumb over your lips and cheeks. “Plus, I know what you were doing. You’re not slick, Ken.”  “Really, I'm not?” his breath felt heavy as he got closer to your lips, one hand dropping to your thigh as the other’s fingers traced your jaw— he had his own ways of teasing you, and now you knew that not only included hovering over your lips for too long, but also stealing your switch. “Darling, I just wanted to see what was so... addicting.” his lips met yours, making everything fuzzy as he held your head and his digits intertwined with your hair. The last appropriate words that came out of his mouth until dawn were some he didn’t realize were loud enough for you to hear, the lightest words underneath his breath— you tried to decipher it as he moved down your body, something that you were sure was along the lines of ‘That damn raccoon.’ 

You would get back at him eventually, first off, by making sure he knew that Tom Nook was a tanuki.

[unmillion]

hiii!! your account is so pretty 😮😮 how did you do your username on your pinned post ?? where its split in half? I LOVE YOUR WORKS BTW 🥹🥹

OMG THANK YOU ANON, you're so sweet ily!! 😽💗 Here's a little tutorial on how I do it using my laptop.

After that, I just copy (or download) the images from the background removing website (remove.bg) and insert them into whatever post I want to edit. I hope this helped!

[thexweapon]

higuruma the type of guy to nut and say case closed

[unmillion]

Kento Nanami absolutely melts under your touch, knees practically buckling beneath him as his head nuzzles into the crook of your neck— his shoulders begin to droop as his fingers claw into the plush of your skin, crescents beginning to form before he calms.

The first time everyone saw it they were in awe, mouths gaping open as they watched his hair fall shabbily into his eyes post mission, legs speeding up to make sure you were really in front of him and not some sort of delusion formed from extreme blood loss and stress. You were waiting for him in the medical ward with Shoko, dropping conversation immediately as your arms opened for him expectantly— the group consisted of Yuji, gojo, and megumi with eyes wide and gojos phone out to take a photo of this monumental moment. They could only make out the whispers of something along the lines of ‘What happened, Ken?’ and an ‘everything’s okay now, love.’

He hated that you had to see him like this, blood running down from his forehead and arms almost limp around you but found himself praying to whatever God would listen to never take you away from him— someone who he didn’t have to hide around, who would hold him and understand his silence. His head only rose as you attempted to get a good look at him, fingers wiping the blood dripping down onto his eyelids with only a soft “let’s get all of you fixed up, alright?” His hand fell into yours as you looked back to lead the rest, thumb rubbing against the coarse skin of his hand.

You were the first person he believed when you said everything was going to be okay, because everything was okay when he was in your arms. The world seemed to stop when he was with you, like latching to you was the puzzle piece he was missing his whole life. No one mentioned anything when they saw him again, too enamored by the fact that there was another Nanamin that only you knew— one that loved like no one else was watching.

[unmillion]

hes so pretty i can't even

[unmillion]

oh my husband is cooked #degloved

[unmillion]

Mappa feeding us Higuruma SCRAPS and making us wait another TWO WEEKS is a level of greed I cannot comprehend.

[unmillion]

Hiromi Higuruma instinctively covers his nose; it’s a habit that he never thought to break. Hands rising to cover his face when he laughs, or hands rising over his mouth and nose as he throws his head back over his desk chair. In truth, it must have started in secondary school, the snide comments and laughs as he turned into that awkward pubescent boy who was speech and debate captain and could never seem to get a date to homecoming.

Now, successful job and all, he tries his best to be blissfully unaware of the internal damage the hellhole that was his high school life caused. He’s still that insecure teenage boy that he used to be, just in expensive tailored suits and a car that most of the people at his high school reunion couldn’t afford.

Except now he has a date.

Not one that asked him out to get laughs from their lunch table or leave him waiting at the local diner until his mom called, worried sick that he had been kidnapped. A date that he couldn’t comprehend why you would have even spoken to him— why you, out of all people, would kiss the tip of his nose and rub his leg when it naturally shook as his brow furrowed at case files.  Who would hum his name, the light “hiro…” coming out of your mouth as you lowered his hand from his face, always questioning why he hid himself from you. He loved holding your hand to his face, dragging out the moments of your love—what could his past life possibly have done to deserve you? Someone who loved every part of him, even the ones that he considered breaking and (horribly) attempting to piece back together.

[suprsnupi]

ಇ . . . baker bf jason todd is a cutie btw !

sometimes you go with him to the farmer's market, perusing between each produce stall. well, it's less perusing and more prowling with the way he strides like the next step comes with backup plans b-to-z. he never seems to care about the smear of flour perpetually clinging to the thighs of his dark jeans, but his white shirt is always pristine and hinting at his musculature.

god, his biceps are unfairly huge, too. he’s easily hoisting bags of flour over his broad shoulders like gravity doesn't exist for him, but you know the bulk isn’t just for that. you can’t help feel a little hot and bothered when he lays down the bags with a low grunt, though.

at the bakery, he scrawls his number on your coffee cup as if you haven’t kept it on speed dial for years, and teases when you ask about discounts (still futile). then he dips his voice lower and asks if it’s alright for him to patrol a little while longer tonight, because distance makes the heart grow fonder, and nothing’s better than coming home to something sweet, right?

he’s bone tired when he gets back, suit smelling like rust and gunpowder. yet jason’s still eager to strip while kissing you, and beneath it all, the scent of soft flour and strawberries clings to his firm chest. on days like this, when he stretches out patrol, he savors everything and dives for your cunt first, groaning at the taste as he traces his tongue along your slick seam. then he’ll lick his thumb, grind it to your clit—he gets a real kick out of feeling it twitch—and mumble into your belly with a sweet smile: see, she missed me. cheeky bastard.

[unmillion]

i have no words i feel like this image conveys enough

[unmillion]

pairing . . . hiromi higuruma x fem!reader

in which higuruma asks you out to a Valentine's Day dinner.

 Hiromi Higuruma doesn’t have time for relationships. The up-downs from secretaries and any topic of office chit-chat that included him were drowned out by the blinds of his office as he covered himself in copious amounts of work that made him forget about any romantic life he had (or any life in general outside of work). He was a working man in his 30’s, he didn’t need a relationship to feel fulfilled, right? A successful law firm, a paycheck he couldn’t spend himself, and a nice new car would suffice. 

He definitely wasn’t feeling a little sore as February 14th crept up on him faster than he could mentally prepare himself, and suddenly his firm was decorated in red rose bouquets and cheesy Valentine's Day signs. He watched as your closet took on more pinks and reds than usual, a small red kitten heel or a pink button-up with your slacks or a pencil skirt. He loved you in pink, though he didn’t know how to tell you without seeming like a creep. 

He watched as the flower bouquets and edible arrangements got delivered to what seemed like everyone’s desk except his own, secretaries doting over who got the largest bouquet from their boyfriends and giggling over their plans for the night. He remembered your tone as you chuckled along with them, gaze lingering on the notes with pet names and raunchy jokes. Totally didn’t make him feel like he was missing out on something crucial. 

Something that the zeroes on his paycheck couldn’t buy him. 

He knows well enough that he could, if he wanted to. The idea of forcing himself on blind dates that his coworkers would set up with other thirty-year-olds who wanted to forget the fact that they were alone for another romantic holiday wasn’t exactly how he wished to spend his weekend, though. 

His body hunched over the mahogany grain, hands weaving through tufts of hair as he watched the sun begin to set on his papers. He knew the click of your heels on the wooden floor, the soft knock of your palm as he composed himself for you— his head immediately rose to your face, a smile as soon as his gaze could linger on you for a moment longer than the passing moments in the halls. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Higuruma. The office had to include you in your favorite holiday. He watched as you pulled the heart-shaped chocolate box from behind your back, practically floating your way over towards his desk. Your red cardigan shifted as your hip went to lean on the corner, watching his stare. “You know the average thirty-something-year-old has something to do tonight, right?” 

“It’s a good thing neither of us is average, isn’t it?” his chair rolled out from under him, moving away quickly enough that it seemed as if he couldn’t trust himself with you almost sitting atop his desk (What an HR nightmare that would be). It would be a better gift than the chocolate box, he must say. Your arms rose to your chest, crossing as you watched him grab his coat and bag from the nearest hook. 

“Well, you’re quite the gentleman, aren’t you?” A scoff escaped your lips, a tell of your exhaustion with the mix of giddiness that lingered in your heart as you watched him. Your arms pushed your body up from the desk, feet finding their way across the hardwood floors to leave him alone again. “Automatically assuming I don’t have someone to go home to tonight.”  He followed you out, watching you sweep your purse and coat off your desk in a manner that was more ungraceful than you would have liked him to see. You could feel his presence behind you, the soft graze of his fingers as he picked up the coat from the back, holding it up as you slid your arms in. “Well, do you?” 

Your breath hitched as you turned, looking up at him as his hands slid into the pockets of the same black Todd Snyder topcoat that he always wore. “No, but that's not the point.” 

“Well, since you don’t have someone to go home to. How about dinner?” A beat went by as his face went red, watching you process his request, buffering even. “Of course, as two single people celebrating another Valentine's Day without participating in the consumerist idealized version of the holiday?” His hand scratched the back of his neck, eyes closing before he could start cringing at himself.

“Enough lawyer talk if we’re going to have dinner together.” Your smile was contagious; the lightest rise of his cheeks was enough for you to feel as if today was a success. “You have to be crazy if you think we’re going to get a seat at any restaurant tonight, though.” 

In truth, Higuruma had been plotting this moment in his head for longer than he would like to admit. He would hate to say that he’s had reservations for tonight for weeks, not exactly having a plan of what to do with them if you had said no— going out alone on Valentine’s day would be more humiliating than he’s into (he’s a lawyer for Christ’s sake, he’s in the humiliation game!).

“Don’t worry about that, people love to help you when you get them off of criminal charges.” His chest rose and fell like he was drowning in your silence, face turning as red as the roses that sat on every desk that surrounded him. A hum left your lips as you watched him begin to fidget, deciding that was enough torture for him today. 

“Alright, but you have to fake propose to me for free dessert.” Your purse slung over your shoulder as he hurried to hold the door for you, almost tripping over his feet— what the hell were you doing to him? He could only manage a laugh at first, the shock that you said yes to him finally setting in. He couldn’t formulate a sentence that wouldn’t seem too desperate, as if he wouldn’t become a step stool for you if you needed one. 

“Whatever you wish, as long as I get to have dinner with you.” 

author's note: yes im spreading the higuruma humiliation kink propoganda let me live