#Albert Wesker | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sinsofnivan · 2 days ago

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baser instincts. — ALBERT WESKER x YOU! — SMUT!

SUMMARY: wesker wants a baby. who are you to deny him?

TAGS: overstimulation, oral sex, monster fucking?, tongue fucking, breeding kink, mating press, dumbification, creampies, lots of em, degradation, praise, short aftercare at the end, soft wesker.

WORD COUNT: 2654. oops

A/N: sorry it took me so long!! i actually had trouble writing wesker a little bit. and i also forgot to link the ask, my bad! i drafted a whole ass chapter becaues i didn't think it would be like him.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

"didn't i tell you to keep your legs spread?"

a sharp pain interrupts your brain-numbing pleasure—-a harsh smack bestowed by none other than your strict lover. you quickly part your legs, as his initial request half an hour ago. "good pet. you need this," he growled, keeping a firm grip on your knee as he began to work on your puffy clit with his tongue again. you're clearly overstimulated and fucked out—but he's yet to stop. you need this, he says. you needed to be fully prepared, completely lubricated so your tight cunt will accommodate his girthy, veiny size.

his tongue, monstrous and almost tendril-like, dotes on your clit, while his fingers curved upward, busying themselves with rubbing against that spongy nub that sent you to heaven. you hold on to his hair, yanking on it harshly as he pumps his fingers in and out of you vigorously. he grunts with a mouthful of pussy, nose practically pressed against the pillowy flesh of your mons whilst his tongue rapidly flicks on your clit. you caught a glimpse of his face when your eyes peer southward. golden brows were narrowed as his gaze was affixed to you; slitted eyes more dilated than usual. wesker groaned, feeling your cunt pulsate against his calloused digits. his knuckles were coated with your sweet, addictive slick, and his nostrils were filled with the scent of you. fuck, it’s addicting. his cock’s too hard against his pants.

“albert i—, i can’t anymoooore,” you whined, hips bucking against his face. his response was what you expected from the male—him picking up the pace and cruelly ramming his fingers knuckles-deep into you. he didn't care if you were sensitive, didn't care if the pleasure was too much. his priorities were elsewhere, getting you prepared for his fat cock.

the moment his lips nicely wrap around your aching clit, you were coming undone; squirting all over his face and soaking everything near him. and wesker? he lapped all of it up, tasting and slurping every bit of you, getting drunk and high on your taste. he hummed in satisfaction, nursing your sensitive clit with slow, gentle suckling sensations, his voice buzzing against your bud. "a, albert—," you sobbed, hips spasming against his face. you're given a chance to finally catch your breath as he pulled his fingers out from your folds. "yes, pet?"

he ascends back to level with your pretty face, and he prods the same cum-soaked digits against your lips. "you did so well," he cooed, watching you obediently take in his fingers. he muttered a swear, loving how docile you are for him. only for him. "do you think you're ready for my cock, pet?" he quizzed, the pads of his fingers toying with your tongue. it didn't matter if your spit was leaking from the sides of your mouth, he still thought you were the most gorgeous girl.

"i asked you a question, didn't i?"

"y, yesh—'m r , reahdyy, pleasheee—,"

a smile tugged on his lips.

"what was that? i can't understand you."

you whined, petulant. but you knew better. he'd never end his teasing. another garbled plea escapes you. "so pathetic, darling." his tongue cleaned up the dribbling spit. "but only because you asked so nicely," you huffed when he retires from you completely. you miss his warmth, his scent . . . you help him with ridding his pants, unbuckling his belt and fumbling with his pants. the moment he's bare, his hands are back on your body, caressing your curves and everything else that was within range.

"legs up." he states. you were able to lift them, miraculously, albeit a little wobbly. your cunt comes into full view again—fuck—you swear you see his eyes dilate a little wider. so pretty . . he needed to ravage it. needed to fuck you full 'til you prayed to god. (him.) a thumb runs over your slit, and a glistening, clear string of slick that was neither his spit nor your cum clings on to the pad of his thumb. "fuuck—," he growled, using one hand to push one leg up to your chest, and the other to guide his girth into your slit. "put it in—pleasepleaseplease, put it—!"

a gasp interrupts you as he shoves it with one, harsh snap of his hips. he's so fucking big and thick, you could feel him against your cervix. it's only now he pushes your other leg up to your chest and you swear he sheathes in so much deeper. "breathe, pet. breathe," you didn't even realize you held your breath. you pant, holding on to his arms. "your pussy's so fucking—," he began to move his hips. slow and gentle, at first. "tight. 'nd warm. fuuuuuck—," his eyes rolled back in overwhelming bliss. you're fucking perfect. "hnnnggg—so deep," you watched him. well, tried, to watch him through lidded gaze, but the drag of his cock was so fucking heavenly. rolling your eyes was almost impossible.

wesker's usually calm and composed—in control of himself. it's a rarity to see him so vulnerable like this, and he doesn't even know what comes over him. but he needed you. needed you stupid and fucked out for him. needed you to writhe under him. his hips pick up its pace, from slow thrusts to harsh, brutal pounding. it didn't take long until the slapping sounds of flesh grew louder, and so did your moans. your nails dig into his skin, branding him with your own unique marks of crescent. he didn't care. not a bit.

"need to—need to breed you,"

he grunts out in between ragged breaths and high-pitched cries, mercilessly ramming as deep as he could into you. you couldn't do anything but lay down and take it like his good pet, cries of his name were the only comprehensible thing that came out of your mouth. "gotta breed you. yeah? you like that, filthy girl?" his body weight replaces the hands that pin your legs down, and you could feel his mouth lapping up on your cheek and on the edge of your lips. your cunt spasms at his words—and you only nod. "u , uh-huh!" was your pathetic response. you didn't know that he could go any faster, but again, wesker always defied the norm of human uniformity.

"yesyesyes—fuck! you're taking my cock s, so well,"

your legs helplessly flail over his shoulders as he continued to use you like his own fleshlight. pleasure blinds you, irises receding back to the pits of your sockets. "only i can use you like this," not like he'd ever let his perfect girl slip from his grasp. "only mine. fucking mine." he makes sure you'll remember it with emphasized, cruel snaps of his hips. "yours! just yours—♡!" good girl. good fucking girl. do you really think you'll be able to get this pleasure from somebody else?

he continues to fuck you deep, loving how your cunt made noises that were just as obscene as your mouth did. there was no mistaking the twitching of your cunt, or the familiar pleasure pooling in your tummy. "think 'm close," you whispered so softly, wesker thought he hallucinated it. "think i'm gonna—fuckfuckfuck—albert!" your desperate begging was what confirmed it for him after.

"go on, pet. cum on my cock."

he cooed before claiming your lips. he didn't shy away from filling your mouth again with his tongue. your eyes widened, cries becoming significantly softer now that his appendage muffled all of it. it's a shame he didn't get to witness it, immersed into tonguefucking that mouth. you gagged, tapping on his arms erratically. you couldn't breathe properly, couldn't even speak—but you were almost—

"mpfhhh!"

you sobbed as an orgasm was ripped from you, spurts of clear liquid squirting out with every push in of his merciless hips. he groaned into your mouth, unable to help himself from spilling his thick and warm cum into you too. just before you could feel yourself pass out, he thankfully retires that inhuman tongue from your throat—and you gasp, taking in a well-deserved lungful.

"h, haaah . . what a messy girl—,"

he mumbled dumbly against your cheek. even though he came, it's like nothing even happened. his hips continued to rut into you, trying to bully the tip into that perked cervix. "gotta get you knocked up. need you . . need you pregnant," the thought of you and him being a family made him feel things. trigger his lust anew. you would be so gorgeous carrying his child, carrying his last name—and everyone would know that he fucked you and got you all knocked up. he wasn't lying when he said he needed it.

you're too full—cunt leaking and overflowing with semen—and you can barely think straight. nothing else but just how much you love him and how much his cock split you open. "a, albert—i love . . love you. love you s'much," you cried, and wesker can't help but adore how vulnerable you are. "say it again," he demands, moving his hands to your ass and shoving his cock as deep as he fucking can with the extra push. the leaking crown of his cock finally breaks through protective flesh, and he's so deep in your fucking womb.

"l , love— i love . . " you can't bring yourself to find the words to say. ever the unmerciful, he only pushed your ass up into his thrusts. "you love . . ?" "you! you! love you, albert!" you cried. it made his stomach turn. "such a good girl," he grunts through gritted teeth. even after his cock throbbed with overstimulation, his hips kept moving. kept slipping in and out of you, fucking you like he didn't just spill his load in you seconds ago.

the hypersensitivity makes him cry out louder than usual, whimpering your name again and again like a prayer. "you'd be such'a good wife. my good wife, all mine. fuck, i love you—," his admittance is practically what sends you over to the edge again, toes curling as you cum again for the nth time for him tonight. it's a pleasurable, burning pain, but you both can't get enough. wesker left open-mouthed kisses on your cheek, tasting the salt of your tears. he didn't mean to make his pretty girl cry . .

"don't cry, shh . . . j, jus' take it. take it like a g, good wife, darling." it hurts—his tip was so so sensitive, and it didn't help that your cervix cradled it so so nicely but— "fuckfuckfuck—," can't stop. it would hurt to stop fucking you. hurt to stop pummeling that pretty cunt. he needs you like air. he could feel his own spit leaking from the edges of his mouth, but he's too fucked out to compose himself.

by now, it's easier for him to slip in and out from your pussy, his girthy, veiny cock completely lathered up in your slick. there's cream sticking to your skins, somethin' he'd lick clean after. and you? you're seein' stars. can't even rake your fingers down his skin anymore. so properly fucked stupid you can't even register his tongue slithering all over your jawline.

his hips rut into you without relent, slamming down as deep as he can just to fill you up like a good husband should. "albeeert—," you whined. god, you moaned out his name so sinfully good . . "wanna be bred. wanna be knocked up. please please — love you . . . ♡," oh, you sweet thing. how could he not cum? when you're encouraging him to? when you were practically milking him dry? he convulses with pleasure as he cums. a lot too for a second orgasm.

and his cum overspills. he's not too pleased about it—and after sloppy, unrhythmic thrusts, he finds himself plunged deep into your cunt, feeling your walls pulsate around him, feeling the sensitive crown of his cock in your cervix. "you're spilling lots." he growled, and you whined. "sorry—sorry . . " you huffed. only when the rough thrusts ceased did you realize how tired your legs were. "you're wasting all that cum, pet. tsk, tsk." you feel his hold on your rear loosen as he tucked away the strands of hair that littered your face.

your chest heaved, and you finally get to look at his face. he was just as flustered as you are, a few droplets of sweat trickling from his temples, and—fuck, his pupils were blown out with such hunger and carnality. wesker closes the gap between the two of you again—devouring your lips and indulging both you and him in a kiss, albeit sloppy and barely qualified for an actual french kiss. he simply let you suck on his tongue. it was cute.

even cuter when he began to move his hips brutally and cruelly again, and he could feel you struggle to suck on his tongue after. "mpf! mhhf!" you groaned, can't do anything else but take it like a good pet. a good wife. he grunts, not immune to the pleasure from his own ferality. you whined when he pulled away, trying to chase his lips.

"you're gonna be a good wife—gonna, fuck! gonna get knocked up. right?"

nod, nod. "yes! yes! 'm a good wife! your good w, wife!"

you didn't question him or your new title, just going with whatever he wanted. you didn't even have half the mind to think. "if . . if you're—if you're a good wife, you're gonna cum on my cock." you huffed. could you even cum anymore? he clicked his tongue when you shook your head. "c, can't." "you can, and you will." he's stern, and so are his thrusts. his hands are back to gripping your curvaceous rear, and rutting into you like there was no tomorrow. it feels so so good! but—you can't. y'can't anymore. how many times have you cum for him tonight?

"c'moooon, pet. squirt on my cock, pretty . . "

wesker ensures that you're pelvic to pelvic, no space spared in that tight cunt. he won't allow it. "i caaan't!" you sobbed. "you fucking will, because i say so." he pants, feeling fatigued in his hips, and feeling another one rising quick. he whined, railing that creampied cunt, rearranging your fucking guts. "gonna be knocked up . . be bred," he grunts. thinkin' about being creampied again makes you feel so tingly. "right? right, darling?" "uh-huh! uh-huh . . ♡,"

with how harsh and how fast he was pistoning into you, it was hard to not feel an orgasm catch up. it was cummingcoming so fast you could only widen your eyes as the feeling began to swell in your tummy. "yeah? cumming? cumming, darling?" "don't stop! pleasepleasepleaseplease—!" you could only nod. with a few more bucks of his hips, he's cumming, and so are you. your voices mixing in a sinful duet as you've both reached your high. white blinds you for a moment, toes curled as you pathetically gush all over his cock. you're sure were gonna pass out . . . wesker kept his cock buried to the hilt, blanking out himself. he drooled, mumbling your name along with a bunch of swears. "hnn . . " you're so fucking full—you don't think you can take any more.

you stay in that position for a couple minutes or so, before wesker gently clasped your chin, tilting your head to face him so he could kiss you affectionately. you're tired and sore, but try to reciprocate the affection anyways. finally, he lets your legs down as he pulls out. they're wobbly and quickly falls on the bed. "albert . ." you whined, reaching for his hand. he's quickly rushing to your side, caressing your hand and bestowing kisses on your knuckles, up, up, to your arm. "i'm here, sweetheart." whispered the blonde, covering your bare bodies with a comforter. he'll clean you up later.

"you're perfect. did so well for me," he kneads your shoulder. you only hummed ready to succumb to slumber. you murmur out an "i love you." —- and you feel a kiss on your cheek, then your lips.

"i love you too."

+ extra. wesker breeding you.

end.

A/N: hope this was to every wesker fan's liking. <3 THANK YOU FOR READING!

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nshtn · 2 days ago

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I love writing Wesker with a little touch of what he seems to hate so much... humanity.

The one core aspect of his persona is that he was manufactured - abused - created.

The Executive Training School intended to produce sets of controllable psycho-sociopaths - a class worth. Human beings, more complex than tools, rarely turn out how they are meant to - neither Birkin nor Wesker were controllable.

Lisa Trevor was a threat and an intimidation tactic as much as she was an experiment - "this will be you if you don't do what we say", essentially.

Wesker, Birkin, and Alexia were all groomed (literal) under the Doctrine, meant to take over in Spencer's stead when he passed (and meant to fight for the position).

Birkin's hate for Alexia was an intentional machination of Spencer. Wesker was intended to experience it towards Birkin eventually, but ultimately did not.

There is only so much death you can voyeur - unwillingly, willingly, it doesn't change the outcome - until you are no longer empathetic to it.

He's a victim of an insurmountable magnitude of intentional happenings whose scale approaches the Truman trope.

His natural, base inclination is not violence.

Birkin had a much higher kill count than he did in the beginning of his arduous and terrible journey, one that they had both started with the desire for a positive change even after they grew up watching their peers picked off like carrion by Marcus.

Wesker's comment to Birkin after the murder of Marcus is that he does not feel anything - good or bad - and that Marcus was "just another monster".

In RE4, he is more than willing to let people solve his own problems without directly, violently interfering to reach his goals. Only when they require violence does he portray it - his first suggestions aren't needlessly cruel ("ring the church bell", "take advantage of the distraction [Leon] is causing", "use [Leon] to clean up Saddler").

When Wesker initially became suspicious of the Arklays, and he looked upon what he perceived was Spencer's goal, he found the idea of it completely revolting even at its' smallest scale. But he could not flee.

The Arklays were meant to produce a viable strain that Spencer could then himself perfect after shedding the Arklays as a testing ground; it was intentionally set up for the event of Raccoon City to occur, but it was not intended for it to occur at the time that it did.

Spencer admits that he - and Project W as a whole - were raised intentionally to produce tools who would become eugenicists in a similar fashion.

Eventually that bitter lie becomes so numb to Wesker's tongue that it begins to taste sweet. "A lie repeated twice is truth" is a known and very evil propaganda tactic employed by cults and fascists - it is called the 'illusion of truth' in psychology, the curse of familiarity.

He was not born evil, and he's a broken dichotomy of a person who is fundamentally incompatible with life.

#resident evil #resident evil headcanons #albert wesker #albert wesker headcanons #resident evil hcs #/dev/writing/#Sometimes victims do not respond to their trauma with naivety and fear of others.#Sometimes you look deep in someone and there is no little boy to save. Sometimes it's scar tissue echoing back at you #Not every victim of trafficking and role-grooming can be a good person - it is easy to forget this is Wesker's own past. Easier to forego.#None of the most evil people in real life have had normal - loving - caring childhoods of glee; it is an unfortunate and uncomfortable trut #I say those things myself as someone with C-PTSD. We aren't condemned to violence - but the fandom often forgets that Wesker Is A Victim.#Likely because it is far easier to forego than the uncomfortable complexity that he was not - in fact - born with evil in mind.#This is a very common feature of fandom's tendency to boil down a character into easily digestible traits or qualities.#tw childhood trauma #tw trauma

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