a little bonus from the resident evil au āØ
tumblr dot com

Discoholic šŖ©
AnasAbdin

Kiana Khansmith
$LAYYYTER

ē„ę„ / Permanent Vacation

No title available
occasionally subtle
šŖ¼

romaā
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Janaina Medeiros
Stranger Things
almost home

JVL
cherry valley forever
No title available
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

@theartofmadeline
Peter Solarz
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from South Korea

seen from Germany

seen from Russia
seen from United States

seen from Indonesia
seen from United States

seen from Canada

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Germany
@xenodove
a little bonus from the resident evil au āØ
Commission for Gali from X!
AuDHD brain isn't letting me focus today. Did a quick Leon sketch to warm up my hands and take a break from fighting with color palettes.
Iām curious why the Albert Wesker / Leon Kennedy ship is called 'Weskennedy' instead of something like 'Albeon'.
Anyway, Iām absolutely losing my mind over their dynamics! Hope you enjoy it too!
Freshly finished commission work for @wintersummer--3232 ! It was such a joy to draw this sweet pair. Thank you for the opportunity!
«Subordination, Dr. Polanski»
Pairing: Albert Wesker (RE4) x ŠŠ” (yumeship) Darline Polanski Tags/warnings: Smut, Colleagues with Benefits, Boss/Employee, Dominant Albert Wesker, Power Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Brat taming, Workplace Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Possessive Albert Wesker, God Complex, Mutual Manipulation, No Strings Attached, Sexual Tension
Summary: Darline Polanski doesn't know how to love. Neither does Albert Wesker, for that matter. Together they complete each other perfectly: a cold genius and a ruthless scientist who couldn't care less about morals. To everyone else - a strict boss and his brilliant subordinate. But between them there's sharp sarcasm, greedy, animalistic passion, and a power that gives you goosebumps. No flowers, no confessions, no tenderness. Just desire, control, and a dangerous game where every move is calculated, and the loser⦠enjoys it. How far can a 'colleagues with benefits' game go when both players are sociopaths with a god complex?
Notes: a little sketch of my fave duo, just to clear my head before i upload this to ao3. Just wanna mention that english isn't my first language, but i really do try to write and adapt my fics to it. Don't be too harsh! ^^ Enjoy!
Word count: 5191
āI don't even like you, you know?ā Di blew a couple of lazy smoke rings up toward the ceiling, finishing off her third cigarette in the last hour.
She was sprawled out on Weskerās ridiculously uncomfortable two-seater leather couch like she owned the damn place. Total chill mode: arms stretched along the backrest, one leg tucked under her, the other bare foot dangling off the edge, barely brushing the rug.Ā
Her burgundy silk shirt was hanging wide open, showing off a thin black bralette and a whole map of fresh red and purplish hickeys and bite marks scattered across her collarbones, chest, and neck. She couldnāt care less.
When he didnāt answer, Darline tilted her head, holding out her glass of whiskey. There was barely any left, just that golden swirl catching the sunset light pouring through the stained-glass windows.
āExactly like his eyes,ā she thought, but kept that shit to herself. For now.
āMore like⦠I donāt like you, Wesker. There. That sounds better.ā
āIām deeply wounded, Dr. Polanski,ā Albert replied dryly, still standing with his back to her at his desk, not even bothering to turn around. āCut that shit out. How many times do I have to say it?ā
Di sighed and stubbed out her cigarette.
For the past ten minutes heād been staring at his tablet like she wasnāt half-naked on his couch in his office. She smirked and shook her head. Same old.
In the two months sheād been working under him on āProject Asclepiusā, sheād gotten used to his⦠āweirdness.ā Or at least what everyone else called weird. To her it just made sense: once you understood how the āUmbrellaā viruses rewired the brain, nervous system, and personality.
She got it. They were the same. Cold, detached, done with all that messy human emotion crap. Genetic engineering, creating the perfect genome, the superior race, a God⦠that kind of work didnāt leave room for morality or empathy. Just science. Goals. Results. People were tools. And right now, she was his tool and he was hers. Their little symbiosis was working perfectly.
She closed her eyes for a second and let out a quiet breath.
Two months ago, when they got locked in that tiny supply closet by pure stupid luck, sheād watched the whole thing like she was outside her own body. Later, in the shower of her temp room, washing off the marks of his fingers, teeth, mouth, and cock⦠sheād only felt satisfaction. Her plan had worked. The sex wasnāt even part of the original plan, but hey-minor detail.
Any other woman wouldāve been messed up by that. But Di? Sheād never really gotten emotions the way normal people did. Sheād learned to fake them, predict them, calculate them. Empathy was something she studied like a subject. Sheād worn the mask for years. With him, she didnāt need it anymore.
They needed each other. Here. Now. Whether it was āTRICELLā or not - didnāt matter. She wasnāt doing this for the company. She was part of Weskerās research team, and that was all she needed to push her own theories forward.
And the fact that they kept ending up like this - blowing off steam, clearing their heads, giving in to hormones and basic needs? Honestly, it was a bonus. Primitive, sure, but it fit. She actually liked how their thing had shaped up.
The first few weeks were messy. Wesker acted like nothing had happened in that closet and their relationship was strictly professional. Di didnāt give a fuck. She wasnāt waiting for an apology, flowers, or some⦠cringy confession. His cold shoulder actually worked for her - no need to overthink whatever this was.
He got her transferred to his unit, put her on a two-week probation, and she crushed it. Not only did she improve the PG67A/W stabilizer serum, she also dropped her own project on his desk: a "genetic damper", a mechanism that slows down aggressive virus expression. This is supposed to let viral proteins seamlessly integrate into the host's metabolism and neural network, unlocking access to the hidden evolutionary potential of DNA without the risk of immediate system collapse or turning tissues into necrotic mass.Ā
By the end of the first month theyād pitched āProject Asclepiusā to the higher-ups. This morning the sponsors approved extra funding. Everything was running smooth as hell.
Di knocked back the last sip of whiskey, set the glass down, and reached for her heels that were kicked under the couch. Todayās round had been rough and spontaneous - heād dragged her in right after the meeting, already pulling her lab coat off in the hallway. She was pretty sure their āpersonal activitiesā werenāt exactly a secret anymore. She kept catching those curious and sometimes judgy looks from the staff. Whatever. Her career goals were way bigger than their opinions.
After finally buckling the annoying strap on her ankle, she stood up and immediately wobbled. Her body was still buzzing from how hard and intense Wesker had been. She was seriously considering switching to some basic flats or something. These skyscraper heels were starting to feel like a bad idea.
She sighed at the fact that heād ripped half the buttons off her favorite shirt and decided not to hunt for them on the floor right now. Fixing her skirt on the way, she walked up behind him.
āSomething new come in?ā she asked, stepping close and pressing her chest against his back. She slid her hands around his waist, hugging him from behind like she owned him. The height difference was almost canceled out by her heels (another reason to keep wearing them). She rose up on her toes, nuzzled behind his ear, kissed his neck, and tried to peek at the tablet over his shoulder. āAny protocol updates?ā
āReport from Beta-3 ops team,ā he said after a couple seconds; his body tensing for a moment before he forced himself to relax in her hold. He frowned but didnāt push her off. āThey ran into some⦠issues.ā
āShocker,ā Di snorted, pleased he was letting her cling like this. A month ago he wouldāve dodged her hands immediately. Training her own monster was a whole project, but she was doing pretty good.
She had the advantage: she literally couldnāt fall in love with him. She didnāt know how. That feeling was just⦠foreign. If she could, this whole thing probably wouldāve blown up in her face. Instead, their relationship ran on sarcasm, constant boundary-pushing, and mutual respect for each otherās science.
āColleagues with benefits.ā The label worked for both of them. Still, she knew the closer she got, the deeper she burrowed under his skin, the harder it would be for him to make decisions that could screw her over. So step by step, she was making sure he felt like sheād always been there. Like āProject Asclepiusā literally couldnāt move forward without her. Which, honestly, was true. And so far her strategy was working.
āYou sending an evac team orā¦?ā she started.
āNo,ā he cut her off. She already knew the answer. Wesker wasnāt exactly known for wasting military resources on failed teams. Way easier to just āreset protocolā and send the next squad. āWeāll send Gamma-7 to the south side of the island. Learn from the mistakes.ā
Di hummed and rested her forehead against his shoulder, eyes closed. He made decisions about who lived and who was expendable like it was nothing. She tried not to think about the day he might decide the same about her with one tap on that tablet.
Nah. Fuck that. She wasnāt one of those idiots who just rolled over. She knew exactly how valuable her work was, and she already had backup plans in motion.
āFalling asleep?ā Weskerās voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and a smirk tugged at her lips.
āHow could I sleep next to a guy like you?ā She rose up on her toes again, gently biting his earlobe while her fingers bunched up the front of his turtleneck.
Wesker let out a low chuckle and finally turned his head, setting the tablet aside.
āPlease, Polanski. That kind of cheesy shit doesnāt suit you,ā he said, still not pulling out of her arms as he turned around and leaned back against the edge of the desk.
He wasnāt wearing his usual dark sunglasses. In the dim office light his predatory golden eyes watched her with calm interest, face mostly blank as always.
After a beat, he reached up and cupped her cheek, fingers sliding into her loose hair, gently tugging her closer.
āSorry, boss. Got carried away,ā Di smirked, stepping between his legs and pressing her chest against his, close enough to feel his breath.
āGood girl,ā he murmured, tightening his grip in her hair just enough to tilt her head back, exposing her neck. āWhatās on the schedule today?ā
āConference call with the African branch at nine Eastern. Director Gionne wanted you toā¦ā
His lips brushed her neck on an exhale, hot breath making her skin burn. Di bit her lip hard to keep from moaning.
āPerfect. Weāve got almost three hours,ā he said, the smug smirk on his face showing exactly how much he loved the way she reacted. Damn, in just a few weeks heād learned her body like the back of his hand. And she still got surprised every time.
āFuck, Albertā¦ā She licked her suddenly dry lips, tried to steady herself, and leaned in for a kiss. He smoothly dodged it, not letting her take control.
āSubordination, Dr. Polanski,ā he reminded her, even though the words sounded ridiculous in this situation.
Di let out a loud sigh and gave up. Fighting him for dominance in bed wasnāt the same as arguing science. It just killed the vibe. So she handed over the reins he loved holding so much. It was easier this way.
His other hand settled on her waist, and she swayed on her heels, instinctively leaning harder into his chest. His fingers slowly played with the hair at the nape of her neck.
He never rushed.
Once he had the upper hand, he took his sweet time. There was something hypnotic about it: knowing this superhuman who could move faster than the eye could track was deliberately slowing down, savoring every reaction, just to make her shake and whine and beg. Just to remind her who was in charge.
She exhaled shakily, surrendering, and weirdly⦠it didnāt humiliate her anymore. It actually unlocked something inside her. Like letting go of control felt good.
She stopped trying to kiss his mouth and let his hand guide her. Her eyelids fluttered shut when his breath ghosted over her neck again.
āThatās better,ā he whispered against her skin, finally pressing his lips right where her pulse was racing.
He kissed her slowly, dragging it out, tongue tracing her carotid artery until her fingers twisted tight in his shirt. His hands moved over her body with the same careful precision he used when studying experiment results: methodical, focused, finding every sensitive spot and enjoying the way she reacted.
āYouāve been extra impatient today,ā he noted, pulling back to look at her. Those golden eyes glowed with possessive hunger in the low light. āTeasing me all day in the lab. And during the presentation you were staring like you wanted to cut my chest open and use me for your little genetic experiments right there on the conference table.ā He chuckled darkly, returning to her neck, nose brushing along her jaw. āItās⦠arousing.ā
āMaybe I did,ā she breathed, her fingers already working on his belt buckle. He instantly caught her wrist, squeezing just tight enough.
āOh, sorry, boss⦠Subordination?ā she teased, voice husky and dripping with sarcasm - the tone that only came out with him.
Instead of answering, he released her wrist and brought his hand to her face, tracing her jaw, then her neck, sliding down to brush over the dark marks heād left between her breasts. A satisfied little smirk tugged at his lips: he clearly liked what he saw, and the way she reacted to his āinspectionā turned him on even more.
He hooked a finger in the collar of her open shirt and tugged it down her shoulder.
āAnd youāre still my employee. My subordinate,ā he emphasized the word, voice low and velvet-rough with that dangerous edge that promised total surrender. He leaned in and kissed her shoulder almost gently. āWeāre not going to revisit that attitude and insolence of yours, are we, Dr. Polanski?ā
The silk shirt slid off her arms and pooled on the floor. She stood there in her black bra, high-waisted skirt, and those stupid heels she was starting to hate. The sheer pantyhose heād torn earlier were long gone, so her pale, slightly trembling legs were completely bare.
His hands settled on her shoulders, sliding down to her waist and pulling her closer. Di let out a soft breath as heat rushed through her. She knew he could feel everything: her racing pulse, shaky breathing, the little tremors she couldnāt hide. And he loved it.
āYouāre impossible,ā she whispered. There was no real anger in it anymore, just surrendered pride.
Wesker tilted his head, that superior little smile playing on his lips. He caught her wrist again, bringing it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the inside where her pulse hammered.
āAnd yet here you are. By your own choice, I might add,ā he murmured, lips brushing her skin. Her knees actually went weak. āYouāre always here, Darline. I donāt have to call you or remind you of your⦠duties. I appreciate that. Even when you break the rules and barge into my office with a report you couldāve just emailed. Like this morning.ā
His fingers tightened on her wrist: not painful, but firm and guided her hand down to his belt.
Di swallowed, fingers brushing the cold metal buckle. She looked up at him. Those golden slit-pupil eyes stared down at her, completely inhuman now, filled with raw possession and satisfaction.
āMaybe I just⦠missed you?ā she said softly, smirking as she started working the buckle open, a little clumsy with it. āMaybe I got tired of waiting all day for you to remember I exist?ā
āMissed me,ā he repeated with clear disdain, but his voice had that low, rumbling huskiness sheād learned was the first crack in his icy control. āDonāt ruin the moment with that pathetic clichĆ©, please.ā He leaned in so close their lips almost touched. āI have a much higher opinion of you than that, Dr. Polanski.ā
He let go of her wrist, giving her the illusion of control, and placed both hands on the desk behind him.
Di paused for a second, reading the room.
Then she exhaled quietly, kept her eyes locked on his, and slowly sank to her knees in front of him.
She actually liked that moment: the shift from equal height to being on her knees. Liked the way his gaze got heavier, completely focused on her the second she was at his feet. She didnāt feel humiliated anymore. She felt powerful. Like she was the only thing in the world worth looking at.
The carpet was soft under her knees.
The sunset light hit Weskerās face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones, thin lips, and the strands of blond hair falling over his forehead. He looked down at her with something primal in his eyes: power, hunger⦠pure anticipation.
Darlineās fingers were shaking, but she still managed to undo his belt way faster than she expected. Zipper, button - she worked through them with focus, even though her head was already spinning and her hips kept shifting on the floor, trying to ease the aching heat building between her thighs.
When his pants slid down his legs, Di paused for a second, looking up at him. There was no fake shyness or embarrassment in her eyes: just raw, almost scientific appreciation mixed with the kind of heat she stopped trying to hide after the third week of their ācollaboration.ā After a month, she didnāt even feel awkward about it anymore.
She stared at him like he wasnāt just her boss, but some mythical, god-like being. Logos in the flesh. A literal god walking around in human skin.
āFuckā¦ā she breathed out, almost like a prayer. āYouāre so fucking perfect.ā
He let out a low hum, stubbornly pretending he didnāt hear the meaning behind her words, and slowly pulled off his black turtleneck. Sheād seen his bare torso dozens of times, but it still made her breath catch every single time. Those muscles shifted under his pale skin with this unnatural, perfect symmetry. In the fading sunset light, his body looked like it was carved from marble, and the heat literally radiating off him in waves, plus that golden glow in his predatory eyes, gave the whole divine image a dangerous, primal edge.
It was mesmerizing.
Di couldnāt look away. She felt this almost hypnotic pull. Her hands moved on their own, reaching for him, sliding over his tight abs, feeling the alien power pulsing just under the skin. Sheād always loved that: touching the thing that made him so much more than human. It never scared her. It just turned her on.
āYou have no idea,ā she whispered, dragging her nails lightly down his stomach, making him twitch. āHow insane this drives me.ā
She hesitated for a second, then pressed her face against the bottom of his tense abs, breathing in that warm male scent mixed with his cologne. Her lips brushed over the defined muscles, tongue tracing the grooves between them, leaving a wet trail.
āWhat exactly?ā Weskerās voice came out low and quiet, almost a purr. No shake in it, but she caught that tiny little edge she loved - the one that told her she was doing everything right. Exactly how he liked it.
Exactly how she liked it.
āEverything,ā she looked up at him, eyes hazy and almost ecstatic. The usual cocky challenge was gone ā there was only pure, naked want and awe. āThe way you move. The way you look. The way you smell. The way youā¦ā She trailed off because her fingers had found the waistband of his black boxers, and suddenly the need hit her so hard her whole body throbbed with that deep, aching pull and her head spun. āShit, you even smell perfect⦠like something divine,ā she whispered, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses along every muscle like a sinner worshipping an icon. āI could stay on my knees for hours. Just⦠breathing you in.ā
Wesker stayed quiet.
He watched her from above, and if Di had looked up right then, she wouldāve seen something new flicker in his eyes: not just satisfaction, but something deeper. Almost⦠sensual.
āKeep going,ā he finally said, breaking the silence. It sounded soft, like permission, but they both knew it was a command.
Di ran her hands up his thighs, feeling the muscles tense under her palms, his breathing getting just a little deeper. She looked up again, meeting his gaze, and the small smile on her lips wasnāt cocky this time: just quiet, reverent admiration.
āYou know,ā she whispered, tracing her fingertips along his obvious hard-on still trapped under the fabric, āI could watch your hands for hours. The way you handle samples. The way you hold a pen when youāre filling out forms and signing shit. The way you grip my thigh whenā¦ā She stopped because he twitched hard under her touch, and that movement said way more than words.
āDarlineā¦ā His voice dropped to a rough whisper, the icy distance finally cracking. Even the way he said her name sounded like a warning.
She didnāt tease him any longer.
Her fingers tugged his boxers down, and then her lips brushed against him: light, barely there, burning him with hot breath. She noticed the way his fingers dug into the edge of the desk. Slowly, almost torturously, she dragged her tongue along his full length, tasting him. The āgameā was messing with her just as much: his scent, his heat, his reactions were making her own body throb with that deep, needy ache.
āYou have no idea how often I think about this,ā Di closed her eyes, letting herself melt into the feeling.
She loved how he pulsed and hardened against her tongue, how his perfect breathing finally started to falter, how his fingers eventually settled on the back of her head - not pushing, just resting there, letting her feel him. She wrapped her warm, wet lips around the head like it was her favorite dessert and heard him exhale sharply through his teeth: quiet, almost silent, but to her it was louder than any moan.
āAbout what⦠exactly?ā His voice cracked for a split second before he got it back under control, that dangerous, sharp edge slipping back in and making her heart race. āBe specific, Dr. Polanski.ā
āAbout the way you look when you lose control. The sound you make when Iā¦ā She paused on purpose, teasing, her fingers sliding slowly down his length before gently cupping and massaging his balls. āBut mostly I love thinking about the way you look at me during moments like this.ā
Di let out a shaky breath and lowered her head again. Her lips and tongue lavished his balls with slow, sensual attention, then her tongue dragged all the way from the base to the tip in one long, wet stroke, leaving a shiny trail of spit. When she reached the frenulum she sealed her lips around it, swirled her tongue, and looked straight up into those golden eyes.
Albert tilted his head and exhaled through his teeth. His other hand, still on the desk, clenched into a tight fist. He wasnāt commanding her right now. Wasnāt guiding. Just watching from above, from his height and his position, letting her do exactly what she wanted.
And what Di wanted was him. Right now, more than anything.
She opened her mouth wider and took him deep in a couple smooth motions, almost to the hilt. When the head hit the back of her throat her eyes rolled back from the rush of pleasure and sharp arousal that simple move gave her. She couldnāt hold back the moan: it came out muffled and growly around his cock, sending vibrations down the whole length. Her head moved in a steady rhythm, not rushing, paying attention to every inch, every thrust into her throat.
Sometimes he cut off her air when he went deep, her jaw aching from his size, but she didnāt care. She was loving it. Her hands were everywhere - sliding over his abs, fingers digging into his hard thighs, dropping lower to stroke and massage his balls.
She set the pace, only stopping to kiss and lick every inch while whispering hotly:
āYou have no idea how much Iād give to see you like this every single time.ā
āYouā¦ā His voice broke and she looked up, locking eyes with him. He was staring down at her, and those predatory eyes glowing in the dim office had zero trace of the cold, arrogant tactician she saw during work hours. Right now there was only raw, primal desire: barely held back, and aimed straight at her.
Di smirked, satisfied with his reaction. She pressed her face against his hot, hard, spit-slick cock, rubbing her cheek against it, kissing it, stroking with her hand. And she heard him let out a low, quiet growl - the kind of sound she could only compare to a predator letting prey get too close.
āDarline,ā he said again, and this time it was a clear order. Not a request. A demand.
But now she was the one taking her time.
She loved how he looked right now: clenched jaw, half-lidded eyes, tense arms, breathing getting more and more uneven. She loved that she - only she - could make him lose that icy control he treasured so much.
His fingers tightened harder in her hair, and Di took him deep on an exhale, letting him slide all the way into her throat, setting a deep, sensual rhythm and finally giving him more control.
Wesker exhaled sharply, his grip on her hair loosening just a little. He wasnāt guiding her: Di already knew exactly how to do it right. His palm rested on the back of her head like he needed the contact to stay grounded, like he was scared that if he let go heād lose it completely. All that possessive, all-consuming attention was focused on her right now, and she knew it was his silent promise that when she was done, heād pay her back - with interest.
Diās fingers dug into his thighs when she took him deep again, nose pressed against his groin, letting her throat squeeze around him while she fought for air. She loved the way his stomach tensed, the way his hand instinctively pushed her head closer even though there was nowhere left to go, the way he finally lost it and gave a few hard, desperate thrusts into her throat, breathing heavily through the mind-blowing pleasure.
Albert tilted his head back, and for a split second his eyelids fluttered: that rare moment when even his control became too heavy to carry.
And right then, when the world started spinning way too fast around them⦠the phone rang.
The sound was so sharp and loud that Di jolted, eyes flying open in surprise as she instinctively tried to pull back.
Albert froze. His fingers tightened in her hair, not letting her move too far but still giving her room to breathe. He turned his head and glared at the phone on the desk: black, matte, with a single blinking red light. It was the dedicated satellite line, which meant he couldnāt just ignore it.
āDonāt stop,ā his voice was low and rough, but completely calm. Like his body wasnāt pulled tight as a wire and his cock wasnāt throbbing on her tongue, begging for release.
He reached across the desk with his left hand, the movement smooth and almost lazy even though every muscle in his torso was tense. Then he picked up the receiver.
āWesker.ā
His voice sounded perfectly professional, like they were in a meeting. Only the fingers of his right hand, still buried in her hair, tightened noticeably when Diās tongue swirled right under the head: that sensitive spot he always tried so hard to hide from her.
āCoordination team Gamma-7. Collection of test subjects for āProject Asclepiusā is complete. Twenty-seven bio-units have been delivered to the research center and are undergoing initial processing. The escort team is requesting further instructions.ā
Di heard the voice on the line: dry, formal, trained. Senior command staff handling subject collection for the TRICELL`s new projects called on the satellite line from time to time. Nothing new.
She kept moving her head smoothly, taking him halfway, setting that slow, torturous rhythm. She saw his jaw clench, saw the muscles in his cheeks twitch. And she didnāt stop. She wanted to see how long he could keep the mask on.
āInitiate quarantine protocol āNew Dawn.ā Activate phase one in four hours. Detailed instructions will be sent before midnight.ā
She swirled her tongue around the head again, slow and teasing, and felt his thighs tense under her hands. She knew he could come any second. Knew he was fighting it. Knew his perfect control was being tested - by his own damn self.
āUnderstood, boss.ā
Albert hung up without any goodbye.
In the same second, his fingers in her hair tightened for real: possessive, demanding, not letting her pull away. He thrust his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt, pressing her face tight against his groin, cutting off her air as he fucked her throat with hard, almost punishing strokes. From the outside it probably looked like he was actually pissed about her little games and was now properly āpunishingā her for being so bratty.
He didnāt make a sound when he came: just a heavy exhale through gritted teeth. His body locked up, fingers gripping her hair almost painfully, his free hand clawing the edge of the desk so hard the wood creaked. He came deep down her throat, holding her there for a few extra seconds, riding out the aftershocks, ignoring her choking spasms and the tears streaming down her cheeks from the lack of oxygen and sheer intensity.
Di squeezed her eyes shut and stayed right there until he finally loosened his grip. She could feel his pulse hammering, the tremors running through his muscles, the way he slowly - very slowly - regained control over the body that had stopped listening to him for a few seconds.
When he finally let go, Albert opened his eyes and looked down at the coughing woman. His breathing was almost back to normal, steady and controlled again, and that wild spark in his eyes was gone.
āYouā¦ā His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, bringing back that smooth velvet tone. āYou did that on purpose. Again.ā
It wasnāt a question.
Darline, still trying to catch her breath and stop coughing, pulled back and casually wiped her mouth with the back of her hand (though letās be real, it was a losing battle). Then she dropped her ass onto the carpet. She looked up at him, squinting, that familiar cocky, self-assured smirk back on her face: the one he hated and⦠secretly loved.
āI have no idea what youāre talking about, boss. I was just doing my job,ā she tilted her head, biting her lower lip on purpose, playing with him. āAnd I hope I did it well.ā
Albert sighed, fixing his clothes. The sigh was a mix of exhaustion, satisfaction, and something else that sent a fresh spark of arousal through her body, promising her only a very short break.
He gave her a grumpy look, then silently leaned down, grabbed her under the arms, and lifted her off the floor in one smooth, almost careless motion. He set her on the edge of the desk, switching their positions. Then he pulled out a white handkerchief from his pocket (of course he had one) and gently - almost tenderly - wiped her face clean of the mess. As much as possible, anyway. Di just sat there on the desk, letting him have this rare soft moment.
Until his face was an inch from hers, his hot breath brushing her cool, pale cheek.
āWe still have plenty of time, Dr. Polanski,ā he whispered, lips almost touching hers as he roughly spread her knees and settled between them, pressing her thighs tight against his hips. His hands were already sliding over her waist and down, gripping her thighs possessively. āAnd you just proved you deserve⦠special privileges.ā
His kiss was hungry and demanding, and with her eyes half-closed Di realized the next hour was going to be payback for her little act of defiance.
And she was going to enjoy every fucking second of it.
Omg! Iāve finally finished the second part with Wesker, hurray! Please forgive me for the long wait ā adult life keeps demanding my attention, but it could never truly distract me from this gorgeous man! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!
The forbidden fruit is always the sweetest to look at (* ̄ii ̄)
so I'm writing this little mini story (NSFW smut genre) for the Wesker/OFC
and one of my OFCs turned out to be a perfect fit for the personality type and look I needed. I'd already used her before for a TWD fic (which I still haven't finished, lol) - that one was Negan/OFC with her.
anyway, for the Resident Evil fandom, I had to kindaĀ elevateĀ her, let's say. Because originally she's just a punk and a little menace, lmao - but for this, I needed her to be a genius and a doctor in genetics/virology LMAO
so yeah. first sketch of her face is already done and I really like it - gonna finish it soon, hopefully.
still can't decide if I should actually post the fic for this pairing (Wesker/OFC) in NSFW format here? still thinking about it...
Iāve always dreamed of doing this challenge, so I finally started it over on Twitter (X)! You can join if you want here!
I know I couldāve made this better, but I donāt have much time right now. Iād rather draw even more Resident Evil fanart! No matter what, Iām really glad I finished him. Now, Daddy Wesker will be watching over everyone C:
Falling back into the Resident Evil fandom felt like coming home, honestly. Iāve missed Leon so much, heās still my golden boy.
However, I have to blame my spouse Hannah for this specific pieceāsheās been simping for Wesker lately, and her obsession definitely rubbed off on me. One thing led to another, and now Iām drawing them in the most suggestive scenarios possible.
Wesker calling Leon "babygirl" is a hill I am willing to die on šš„
OCs from The_Fog (INCIDENT) Mor x Felix
My first ArtistDay on Tumblr, and I'm a little nervous huh ~ Hi! I'm Hannah Stoker and I draw a lil bit of fan arts mostly for DnD, Baldur's Gate 3 and Overwatch 2, but sometimes also for TV shows and movies. I'd love to meet new people here! My Commissions still open due to the tough financial situation rn. Rates and deets in the link!
āļøCommissions Open! āļø
I have ADHD and diabetes (which requires daily medication), and my family is currently in a deep financial hole. Because of this, I've decided to open commission slots for my art on top of my full-time job. This means I can't commit to strict deadlines, but I can promise a turnaround time of 2-3 months. Thank you so much for your understanding.
Got 5 SLOTS OPEN (for the moment)! Hype for OCs (TAV) from Baldur's Gate 3 and Overwatch, but canon works too. DnD buddies - welcome! ZERO limits on fandoms or genres. SIZE and DETAIL:
Bust (shoulder-high): $45 (clean line art + gray scale)
Half Body (head to waist): $65 (clean line art + flats colors and simple shades)
+ $20 full shades for all sizes
you pay all fees (usually around $5-7)
you can also comm a full render art which starts at $100. Just DM for details! quick sketch takes like a week, provided there are no queue ahead of urs
For this slots block, I dont draw backgrounds! Complex species, hard clothing designs/accessories are paid for in addition to the price list! Examples of my work for busts $40:
Examples of my work for half body $65:
and a few examples of full rendering $100+:
RULES:
You are welcome to post my artwork on your personal social media as long as you give me clear credit, but commercial usage, marketing, or business-related promotion is strictly forbidden.
All commission inquiries should be directed to my DMs only (SERIOUS BUYERS ONLY). I will not address commission requests left in the comments section.
I will provide regular updates on the work's progress. Please let me know promptly if any revisions or adjustments are necessary.
Please note that I require 100% upfront payment to my P*ypal immediately after we finalize all details, references, and the art concept (again - you pay all fees). Following the payment, I will provide the initial sketch within one week, allowing us to discuss it, implement adjustments, and add any further elements. You will have the opportunity to make two rounds of free revisions before the final line art is completed. Any revisions requested after the final line art will incur an additional fee. A heads-up: I do not offer refunds, so PLEASE make a firm decision about the commission and exactly what you want from me as an artist before confirming the order.
NSFW and Mature content are acceptable to me, and I am actually more than willing to work in these genres. I do not draw mecha characters or vehicles, but I am happy to take on commissions featuring furry and anthro characters.
Finally carved out a little time to draw my boy. Just yesterday I managed to sketch him in a couple of hours. Iāve wanted for so long to show Cassius not just as a brooding sorcerer-necromancer, but as he becomes when he feels safe or is with the people close to himācalm, relaxed, quietly taking in the beauty of nature. This idea has been living in my head for ages.
I also really wanted to draw him with his original hair length (yes, itās that much and that longāheās basically the Rapunzel of his siblings). I like to think that in rare moments of peace (and sunsets), he opens up to his companions in an unexpected wayālike a twilight flowerābecause most of the time heās a gloomy little goth wrapped in the necromancy of Thay.
And I love to imagine Halsin watching him in those moments, quietly admiring. Surely the golden hour softens the dark circles under his eyes, fills Cassius with warmth, and tangles in his hair like strands of honeyāwhat sweet-toothed bear could resist such sweetness with just a touch of bitterness?
Iām fucking exhausted. Adulthood has been nothing but trauma, mostly the kind that digs into my mind in ways I donāt think Iāll ever fully recover from. With my diagnoses (high-functioning autism and ADHD) ā which, of course, never get officially recognized because⦠well, CIS countries ā every wave of chaos that lands on me hits twice as hard.
The country Iām stuck in right now changes its policies on migrants almost every damn year, and every time it throws me into this spiral of anxiety that feels like pure hell. And sure, I know part of it is my depression making it worse, but that doesnāt make it any easier. I just want a calm life, to do the work I love, and to take care of my wife and our little puppy.
But for almost seven years now, every single year weāre dragged through this nightmare because of a soulless bureaucratic and political machine that doesnāt care who I am, who I want to become, or what I dream about. Iām not asking for their money. I donāt even care whoās in power, honestly, because even the citizens canāt change anything ā so what can a migrant hope for?
And Iām so tired. That one month every year becomes complete hell ā draining me and my wife, driving us both to the edge.