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i’m hoping to publish for multiple fandoms, right now im focused on resident evil pieces. my ao3 is the same as here, although im not active on there yet. feel free to reach out and send me slutty shit or simply to make a friend, i’m not picky. happy reading ᝰ.ᐟ 📖ྀིྀི

How do you get small text on mobile version? Im new to all this and about to post my first fic but i want to make it aesthetic but for the life of me i cannot figure it out 😫😫

Btw i absolutely lovee your oneshots they are so good and how you write for wesker is soo 🥵!!!!!

hi honey, i tried to respond to this with some screenshots to give you a visual and literary explanation but tumblr is being stupid and not letting me post them. so! i’ll try my best to explain it this way, and if you’re still confused then please feel free to message me privately and i will help you there as well. hopefully with screenshots lol. no such thing as stupid questions! nothing to be embarrassed about, tumblr is an outdated and very cranky app to use, especially on mobile. don’t worry, i’ve got you 🫂

first, make sure you’re typing a regular body of work and not a title, a bigger display font, bulleted list, etc. it should be the default text option, but just in case if it’s not, you should click on the “Aa” option and choose “regular.” next, highlight the text you want to change, and the editing HUD should come up. the small text option is the little framed s. for me on an iphone, it looks like this <s>. it’s next to a B for bolding, slanted i for italics and an s with a line through it for strikethrough font.

that should shrink your text down to the small version, but again if for some reason you’re still confused or not seeing these options, reach out! my pms are open.

…

“you’re kidding.” the words left you a little too quick. you could tell you had caught him off guard, no matter how much of a blank stare he gave you. somewhere in the distance you could hear jill’s snorted laugh, the RPD beginning to wind down for the night. shifts ending, people leaving, talks of takeout or a bar somewhere in the city. in the midst of it all you had somehow found yourself in the captain’s office, originally intending to drop off field reports for the week. but instead you were discovering a very…surprising facet of his personality.

a hand came to smoothly push what he had been reading to the side, folding his hands in the center of his desk and maintaining eye contact. “why would i be?” he was neutral, giving absolutely nothing away. but you could tell by the slight pitch change in his voice and the way his shoulders were lax that he was actually somewhat amused. somewhat.

your eyes darted to the cover of jane eyre, then back to him. silence pressed between the two of you as you began to fight back a smile. “just…wasn’t expecting it is all.” shifting your weight on your feet, you began to gather your things. when he said nothing more, you decided to push your luck, now fully grinning. “you don’t seem like a romance kind of guy. no offense, captain.” now, he was visibly surprised, losing his poker face with raised brows and a quirk to his seemingly permanent scowl. “you think jane eyre is just a romance? i take it you haven’t read it then, rookie.” you scoffed dramatically, mocking offense. “i was a theatre kid in highschool, of course i’ve read jane eyre.” wesker shook his head, lips in a crooked line. “you weren’t a good one then.” something warmed your cheeks at the audible playfulness in his voice. a very, very rare display of normalcy from captain wesker. you found yourself wanting to witness more of it.

your bag hit the chair across from his where you’d been sitting with a thud as you began digging around in an unzipped pocket. he said nothing as he merely observed you, eyes raking over the overstuffed compartments. “here, look,” spines and hard corners dug in your hands as you pulled out two books, both thick and clearly pre loved. a small coffee stain on the bottom of the odyssey made wesker kiss his teeth, a cartoonish tsk tsk tsk aimed in your direction. “you’re a slob,” he said matter of factly, opening your copy of dracula like it would burn him. shooting him a half assed glare, you leaned over to watch him read your annotations. gloved hands flicked through tabs and highlighted sentences. little scribbles of pen or pencil were crammed into the blank spaces, sometimes tilting down the page as if your own book was tattling on your bad sleep schedule, often up reading past dark.

again, he kept any reaction or comment he had to himself, his beloved poker face a default expression. feeling bold, maybe too bold, you broke the silence. “you’re judging me.” he let out a puff of air that almost sounded like a snicker, continuing to browse your chicken scratch. “your approach to classic literature is not what i expected, but nonetheless writing is one of the arts,” he closed them both, stacking them atop one another close to your bag. “the arts are to be interpreted differently, we are an example of that.”

you couldn’t help but gawk. “the arts?!” wesker paid your reaction no mind, opening a drawer and pulling out manilla folders of paperwork. “i had no idea you liked reading or…the arts.” you gestured dramatically with your hands, watching as he tried his damndest to ignore you. “there’s a lot you don’t know about me, dear.”

god, you prayed he didn’t see the heat rushing to your face. wesker pulled two smaller stacks of papers out from the rest and reached for his stapler. “well, how could i? you’re so shy.” now he reached for a pen, body still turned away from the conversation. “i am not shy. i am professional.” his tone made your eyes drop to your shoes, posture straightening out of habitual intimidation. the playfulness had left as quick as it came. visible only for minutes, seconds, before vanishing like an endangered animal. “you’re certainly lingering for someone who i know has evidence review to catch up on off the clock.” point taken. grimacing, you nodded with a quick “yes sir,” and grabbed your books off his desk.

Hope you're well and love ya byee☕

…

“humiliating.” the word was spat at you. placed around your neck in an invisible collar, submission bleeding through every crack in your mind that wasn’t already occupied with him. you felt the muscles in his calf stiffen, leather of his boot shifting slightly beneath your squelching cunt. the wand wesker had strapped to his laces was glistening. cheekbone pressed against his kneecap, you were dizzy. lost in every emotion and none all at once. shame, arousal, excitement, adoration, embarrassment, it all gave you the feeling of a high, these things that shouldn’t be mixing together making you cum so hard you were sure he would feel it down to his socks. there was a small puddle that had formed, pussy having gushed twice already. but you were greedy, gluttonous. an addict at this point. reveling in any words he spoke, any action he took. “such desperation,” his voice drawled, adjusting his leg and enjoying the squeak of surprise from you.

overstimulation was nipping at your clit, a slight sting settling in as you ground down on the vibrating silicone. it sent an almost numbing sensation up the bottom of your spine, vertebrae freezing up with pleasure as you felt your third orgasm beginning to peak through the curtains of your psyche. a warbled cry left your lips as you managed an odd rhythm. almost forming a bounce, your pelvis swiped up and down his laces, every time your slit bumped the wand it made you clench around nothing. painfully reminded with how utterly empty you felt. a particularly hard squeeze had your hands scrambling up the meat of his thighs towards his belt, where you were quickly slapped away like a bug that’s hard to look at. “please-“ a pitiful whine of rejection left your throat, hands dropping.

a noise escaped him, something airy through his nose. a breath of amusement, mockery perhaps. you swore if you could see straight you’d witness a slight, slight smile, one poorly concealed with a smirk. another shift from his calf, boot moving the wand with it ever so slowly. there was lewd, wet squelching, pussy trying to grab onto anything it could as heat climbed to your shoulders. the words, “oh fuck, i’m close,” came tumbling from your mouth in a breathless sigh, but you regretted them instantly.

“are you?” he stilled, somehow having shifted in his seat without you noticing to have reach of the power button. long, capable fingers flicking the off switch, halting any and all movement. slurred, high pitched protest was all you could muster, mind filled with nothing but him. him. him. you needed to cum, you needed his help. you needed him. his expression unreadable, you almost thought he’d stand and kick you off his laces just because he could. always maintaining a defense of unknown, straight face and little words.

the meanness of it all had you embarrassingly close. there was that invisible collar again, the weight of it giving you the desperation to meet his eyes. silence was held as the two of you simply observed one another in your roles. you could practically taste the authority coming off him, the display of silent power above you making you drunk for a cock you weren’t even perched on.

you were a wreck. cheekbones damp and red, lashes almost wet with tears. wesker ignored the pang of want he felt. ignored the way his pants felt impossibly tight. ignored how he knew he’d memorize the sight before him to play it on repeat during his nights of endless work. nights when he knew he wouldn’t give into his human desires. wishes of the flesh were not beneficial to his field, and he would not entertain them. should not. he wasn’t going to lower himself to any mortal standard and indulge in sex or hookups. the guilt clawing at his pulse point for even enjoying himself now, was…difficult to ignore. there was constant internal pressure. an almost analytical anxiety that was beginning to curdle his arousal at the fact that he was indulging in something lacking purpose. there was no point to this. the realization that he was actually beginning to…like this, like you, made something foreign rise to the surface. he did not know what this was but whatever it was, he didn’t like it. at all.

“get on with it.” he snapped. voice losing any suggestive tone it had just mere seconds ago. without turning the wand back on, he nudged his foot upwards, meanly pressing the silicone topper into your slit. the change in his demeanor was noticeable, you could feel the shift in energy. his sudden disinterest made your focus turn into something akin to nervousness. not quite fear but something else. your hands absentmindedly reached for his pant leg, but he knocked his knee to the side, brushing you off like a bug that was difficult to look at. “make it quick, before i change my mind.” again he nudged his foot, harder this time to where it actually pulled a wince out of you.

you weren’t sure what to do, you felt like you were imposing on him. arousal still burning low in your spine, combating the embarrassment you felt for even doing this. you felt ridiculous. but god did you want to cum again. he was so handsome, painfully so. the kind of attractive that punches you in the throat when you look at someone. it made a different kind of warmth press against your sternum, something sickeningly sweet. as if you’d get a tooth ache from admiring him for too long.

forcing your hips to move, your pelvis dragged along damp laces and a sticky vibrator. pussy wet and needy, squelching against his boot again within seconds. it was pathetic how quickly he turned you on. wesker was still as stone, turning into a statue as your pace picked up, not moving a single inch when your head cocked to the side. your jaw was slack, eyes rolling and shutting every few breaths. “yes sir, oh fuck-“ the title of authority leaving your lips and hitting him square in the chest. wesker felt like he was under crosshairs and not your cunt. a perverted animal, dog in heat at the way his eyes bore into your arched frame. drool would’ve glistened his lips had they not been sealed in a tight line.

you were close. he knew it. you began to slur your words, a mix of his name and admiration, although for you those two were one in the same. “yes! i’m-“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence before your ribcage fluttered, internal electricity shocking every nerve to an overcharge. heat rushed through you, cunt clenching around nothing as you gushed all over the leather beneath you. your orgasm so intense it stung, joints locking up as overstimulation began to creep through. completely spent, erogenous zones cried out as you moved from his boot, body demanding relief in stillness. wesker watched as wobbly, useless legs tried to stand only to fail of course, knees giving in and dropping you to a crumble at his feet again. he almost expected you to cry.

“thank you.” your words caught him off guard, still unmoving and merely observing. but you knew better, catching the way his breathing pattern changed for a moment and pink pressed against his almost translucent skin. eyes bore holes into you as you crawled a few inches to where your pants had been discarded, ripped off you and thrown. wesker made quick work of the wand, taking the strap and toy both off in one go. there was movement, a shuffle as he stood. his shoe moving from your juices on the floor actually making the environment beneath his soles squeak with moisture. the sound made you shyly turn to watch as he peered down, looking at the mess you made. “i take it you enjoyed this. good,” he grabbed his leather trench off the back of his chair. “because this will not happen again.” shrugging his sleeves on, he began straightening his collar, yanking at the hems of pebbled fabric too hard. wesker cleared his throat, turning on his heel to leave as you still sat on his floor just feet away, still bare from the waist down. “lock the door on your way out.” he didn’t even turn to look at you as he left, knob clicking shut.

this will not happen again. those words should hurt your feelings, hell they used to. he’d said them before.

…

…i don’t think wesker has ever had a type. ever. though i do think there are things he would notice, slyly stealing glances. never admitting to himself that he’s experiencing human attraction because that’s beneath him. romance and intimacy have no space in his life nor will they ever. but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy a woman who wears her bare face well. natural beauty, femininity. perhaps when he was younger, (re1 for example), he appreciated a naturally attractive woman simply because she was attractive. as he got older, (re5, especially) he developed arrogance, and simply thought prettiness = superiority. although it’s hard to tell if that was a side effect of uroboros or just his personality aging

…has a thing for brown eyes, hazel even. i don’t think hair matters to him, just cleanliness. definitely has OCPD and it bleeds into his lens of beauty as he gets older. gets a hard on for a good chess player, or someone who carries a book or two with them. preferably classic literature. i’d also like to believe he would think that the ability to read or write sheet music is a lost art. appreciates masculinity in the form of wide shoulders, scruff on the cupids bow, thick thighs. muscles. himbo builds. (cough chris cough) i don’t think he’d be the type to have a goth girl fetish but i do think since he wouldn’t see them often in his field of work, facial piercings would intrigue him. he wouldn’t go out of his way to notice personal adornments, but tattoos and piercings would catch his eye. i’d like to think at some point in his career he notices a small tattoo behind a researchers ear, something small and meaningless from college, maybe. ink almost to the point of fading. he finds himself admiring it when they’re not looking. just simply….observing. perhaps he sees a belly button ring when someone stretches, a glimpse of stainless steel and a little colored gem. he doesn’t like the way it makes his jaw stiffen, fighting the urge to glance down again. such human and mortal behavior disgust him

…queer. 100% i think he swings both ways, but doesn’t bother labeling himself because of his hatred for the human race. he’ll never lower himself to that level anyway so why bother? he’s above that. that being said though he definitely was chris’s favorite hook up for a while. a mouthy switch. emotionally horrific to interact with but the sex made it worth it. during the point in his life when he was actually hooking up and engaging in unlabeled, sexual relationships (i do think he’d be a situationship final boss, especially in re1) he had a thing for doggy. spooning. 69ing. i don’t think he’d enjoy riding, giving or receiving because being face to face is too intimate for him. it reminds him of what he’s doing, and how he’s feeling. he doesn’t enjoy the vulnerability and it was a turn off when his partner wanted to be face to face. the man would never admit it, but he would absolutely pride himself in his foreplay. wesker doesn’t really give munch, but the man would finger you to tears, that i do believe. i think he’d prefer sucking dick over eating pussy, but he’d also prefer fingering over handjobs. a very particular, picky partner.

…not a smoker, but a drinker. obsessed with health and the human body, but he enjoys the burn of brown liquor, something high shelf of course. scotch. bourbon. doesn’t drink beer or wine but he will have a few fingers of whiskey. during his time in S.T.A.R.S i like to imagine he had a drink of someone’s fruity cocktail at an event for the RPD, and absolutely hated himself for how much he liked it, so he never drank it again. looping back to the OCPD mention, i don’t think he’d be able to fall asleep and stay asleep until he does his 18 step oral hygiene routine, in addition to his steaming hot shower with a skin and body care line up that rivals american psycho. drops some serious money on niche toothpastes and aftershaves. i think he’d enjoy spicier scents. something painfully masculine, the kind of smell that lingers when he leaves the room. i don’t think he’d like vanilla, whether for himself or anyone else. too many people enjoy it and he’s better than everyone so obviously, he hates it. god logic.

…doesn’t enjoy waxing but has an electric razor. meticulously manicured. definitely the type to stick a q tip in his belly button after a shower to the point of it being painful. god forbid he ever gets a cold sore or athletes foot, something gross and painfully human to experience. he’d hate himself until it was gone. a hangnail? forget it. he’d beat himself up over it, scrub his finger raw, lose his appetite. it would bother him more than it should.

…has or had a thing for bondage. leather restraints, preferred. during his time in S.T.A.R.S he might’ve indulged in cuffs. chris would know. he likes using his own belt for impact play. likes the idea of his partner fucking themselves on his shoe. cockwarming after sex. a breeding kink, but later in life from his newfound obsession with uroboros. thinks himself genetically superior. dominant/submissive dynamics. would never admit it (well actually maybe he would) but he had a fantasy of a threesome with claire and chris for a while. he seems like the type, especially in the re: code veronica book. dude was a slut.

…has a sweet tooth and guilt trips himself over it every time. was deprived of it as a child and really has a soft spot for coconut. not a big fan of butterscotch though. tea drinker. if he ever drinks coffee it’s black with a painful amount of sugar packets in it. but that’s fine because no one ever watches him make it.

…speaking of wesker as a child, he had a lisp. some sort of speech impediment. alex made fun of him for it and he never forgave her. no one knows but her and the speech therapist he had as a kid. forever his biggest secret.

…fucking hates babies but can tolerate toddlers and children. has a soft spot for outcasts but he’d never display it. the black sheep of the classroom would appeal to him if he were to take anyone under his wing. i don’t think he would but in another life he’d be a hell of a scientist or police officer without umbrella’s intervening of his life. perhaps a professor.

…enjoys black and white movies. the golden age of hollywood for him.

…i see some discourse online about how excella was a turn off for him because of how forward she was, but i disagree. i think brutal honesty would be attractive to him. i think excella was a turn off for him because she groveled. she threw herself at his feet, humiliated herself and allowed herself to be used. i don’t think he minds the upfront flirting, but it has to be done correctly. a low voice, suggestive comment, eye contact. if he rejects you, take it and move on. he’ll be much more likely to pay attention if you don’t care versus if you show it hurt you. he’s mean like that.

…has multiple, honestly too many pairs of sunglasses. he already struggled with migraines before uroboros, but the virus just heightened his sensitivity to light and made them worse. has a hard time seeing far away. i think he’d struggle with arthritis or joint flare ups afterwards too but would manage it pretty well.

…despises the corny lingerie and sexy costumes, but definitely has a thing for someone wearing his clothes. chris threw on an embroidered RPD t shirt of his one time and wesker thought he’d died and gone to heaven. if his partner is feminine, and smaller than him, his clothes hanging off their frame makes his size kink rear its head. he enjoys the rush of being able to overpower someone.

…i think he’s a boob guy. he can appreciate pretty hips and curve below the belt, but something about a handful of tits just makes his cock twitch.

…god FORBID his partner has a piss/scat/musk kink. he would cut you off so fast it would make your head spin. unhygienic and unsexy, terrible combination.