#wesker x gn!reader

[enterrandomname]

Albert Wesker x Gn!Reader

Warning: May be OOC, who knows, Wesker being possessive(?)

Word Count: 436 words

⋆——————✧◦♚◦✧——————⋆

“Dearheart, have you seen my sungl-” He paused, a smirk forming on his face as he leaned against the doorframe, watching you impersonate him. He found it quite amusing.

“Uroboros will be released into the atmosphere, ensuring complete global saturation." You huffed in annoyance as the sunglasses kept slipping down your nose despite multiple attempts to adjust them.

“So that’s where they were.” His voice startling you. Oh shit, did he see your horrible voice-acting skills? “Albert! At least give me a warning! You could’ve given me a heart attack.” You placed your hand on your chest, feeling your heart racing. “Do you want them back, darling?” You watched as he made his way toward you.

“Dearheart, I never said that I wanted them back.” He stated, gripping your chin as he placed a kiss on your cheek. “In fact, I want you to keep them as a symbol to show others that you’re mine.” His gloved hand made its way towards your chin, stroking it. You could only gaze up at his radiant, crimson-feline-like eyes. Almost finding yourself hypnotized by them.

You bit your bottom lip, finally glancing away from your husband’s hypnotic-like eyes. “Darling…” He never acted like this. Shaking your head, you sighed as you wrapped your arms around his chest. Wesker’s eyes widened for a moment, his body tensing in response. You had almost forgotten that he wasn’t used to hugs.

“Now I feel bad for even taking these. How about we go shopping next time? And then we’ll be matching!” You exclaimed, placing your hands on Wesker’s face. His eyes stared into yours before he nodded.

It’s almost absurd how you were able to tame the beast inside of him. He was always gentle with you, afraid that he was going to kill you instantly. The Albert Wesker being afraid? It can make any person laugh as if you were crazy!

Suddenly, Wesker’s phone rang, shattering the peacefulness the two of you were enjoying. He muttered curses before answering the phone, his back facing you. “What is it?” His eyebrows furrowed as he heard the news. “I’ll be there. Don’t do anything foolish till I get there.” He hung up, not wanting to hear another word from the caller. You frowned, as you knew what this meant. Work, work, and even more work. Apparently, being a god was more important than you.

“Don’t worry, dearheart,” he said soothingly, turning around to face you with a feint smile on his face. “If you behave well, maybe I’ll reward you, hm? Would you like that? A reward for just being a good little pet.”

[yanderestarangel]

♡ — 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐑𝐄 | 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘'𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃!𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐑

— TW: smut, praise, dark themes, age gap, light yandere, age gap, friend of your farher!albert wesker, v!sex, manipulation, nsfw, distorted mind, oral, afab anatomy, blackmail, recorded sex, daddykink, no pronouns used besides 'you'.

♡—Wesker was a sick man, he knew that, but Albert's darkest desires could not be ignored for long. He was your dad's co-worker, and to tell the truth, he hated the man, however, there was something about your father that interested him... You.

♡— Wesker, unfortunately for you, laid eyes on you, it was just small glances behind the dark lenses of his glasses, but soon after, you were already in the scientist's darkest thoughts. He thought you were a precious thing, a little pearl that needed to be protected by him, so he decided to get even closer to your dad, it was so easy to manipulate the man and infiltrate your family that Albert found it pathetic, but he needed you... Being close to you, you were eating away at his mind with every bitter second that passed in the older man's abjacent solitude.

♡— Wesker could just get rid of anyone in the worst way possible and lock you up in a place isolated from everything and everyone, make you his untouched little doll, lock you in a glass dome and watch you all day — he could force you to loving him, worshiping him like a god, he wanted to make you walk on the ground he walks on and see your tongue lick every drop of his seed, things escalated very quickly for him, but he didn't care, in the blonde's head, he was a superior being, and could do anything he wanted.

♡— Wesker researched every strong and weak point of your personality, in a few days he had a folder and raw files of hours and hours of recordings of you, either with the wiretap he secretly placed on your cell phone, or with the cameras hidden behind home — which he put it when he went to your house, to drink some wine and hand over some papers from the umbrella to your dad — or for the hours he spent stalking every post of yours on the internet. He knew everything about you... Absolutely everything, you were his obsession, you were his property and his alone... It didn't take long for you to realize that.

♡— Wesker began with calm touches, as if he were watering a flower, wetting your petals of desire with the nectar of hot, forbidden touches. He would pay you so much attention, wearing the best smile behind his serious and cold face, his lips would always have an expression of comfort for you — He would always shower you with sweet nicknames, telling you how proud he is of you always giving your best to you. college grades, or how good you were. He would divert your father's attention just to visit you in your room, giving you expensive gifts that you had wanted for a long time. "— I just remembered you baby, it suits your eyes, don't worry about the value sweetheart." Albert would speak in a hoarse tone, placing the emerald necklace around your neck, brushing his fingers for too long on your skin and leaving soon after, leaving you with a confused feeling in your chest and a heat in your core.

♡— Wesker has been mentally writing down the best nicknames he can think of. "— My Prince/Princess, My doll, My baby boy/baby girl, My little gem, My good boy/girl, honey, darling, dear, sweet little thing." And all of them are accompanied by mischievous phrases and smiles. " — Good job prince/princess, you did well... Keep it up." " — you really are a cute little thing, aren't you? Making Daddy happy." The scientist would purr in your ear, away from your father's eyes... Not that he cares much, but he loves the feeling of adrenaline, seeing your face blush, you would be a mess for a simple compliment or word of affirmation... It was so cute to him, like a stalking prey, a deer lost and beautiful in the snow.

♡— Wesker knew that resisting his charm was never an option, and it wouldn't be. He is a man who knows how to play his cards right, and it wouldn't take long for him to trap you in his web of manipulation and possession, he would make you his body, mind and soul, break you to the breaking point.

♡— Wesker would have luxurious dinners at his penthouse, calling his family, an excuse to see you again. He would get your dad drunk enough to pull you to some corner of the house and pull down your clothes, slapping your ass hard as he knelt kissing your clit, forcing you to lean against the cold wall while he fucked you out. "— Fuck imagine if your father comes in here and sees his sweet son/daughter like that? Fucking his friend?" Albert smiled mischievously, as he inserted two thick fingers into your hole, stretching you to the sides, leaving you well prepared for him. He would hold you with his strong arms, taking you to the table where your father slept drunk, fucking you in front of the man's sleepy body. " — Fucking h-hell Mmm- imagine if he wakes up? Seeing you like this? Seeing that you're nothing but a fucking slut." He babbled, pushing the base of his dick into your cunt, while you covered your moans with your hand, feeling your eyes roll back into your head with pleasure.

♡— Wesker will fuck you in your own house, making an excuse for your father who needs to recommend some colleges to you, while he aggressively beats you on the mattress, tying your ankles with his tie, while overstimulating your pussy, inserting his shaft repeatedly into your uterus, he'll just take out even the tip and put it all in at once with a sadistic smile on his thin lips. "—I could fuck you like this all day."

♡— Wesker would say such dirty and sweet things to you while turning you into a dumb mess. " — Your sweet little pussy is made for my cock, isn't it?" His free hand reaches down to caress your breasts, pinching and pinching your sensitive nipples, eliciting more moans from your lips. He continues to tease and torment you, pushing you closer to the edge of orgasm before pulling back, prolonging your agony - and his, you could beg and whimper, as he takes a cell phone out of his pocket, focusing on your wet, abused hole. " — Oh, you little slut," he grows. " —I love the way you look when my cock stretches you out like this Ah- Fuck sweetheart-" And just as you're about to fall, he slows down once again, prolonging your ecstasy, the buildup almost unbearable. "—Not yet, my dear," he whispers in your ear, his voice filled with wicked delight. "—You will come when I say so. Only when I give you permission."

♡— Wesker will take several photos of your body covered in semen, in compromising positions and with his dick in your mouth, videos, gifs or any digital media available, he will manipulate and chat you so that you are always his, always stay on his side.

" — You will never run away from me, my little pet... Or else... Your father and all your family, friends... They will know what a whore you are, so just be good and keep your mouth shut, pretty boys/girls don't think."

©𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍𝘼𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙇 2023

[herecomethatboi]

Dbd killers x gn!reader pt. 3

Part 3 of mc getting slammed against the wall lol

Guys I need more, feel free to send me any kind of request (nsfw abc, sfw abc, more parts for this silly series etc)you have and i'll gladly write them all :D (when my final exams are finally over hahaha)

Also, I was drunk when I wrote this and I trust drunk-me with writing. He's better at writing than sober-me, so here's an unedited "masterpiece"!

ENJOYYYY 🩷🩷

The Mastermind:

At the start of the match you saw the gray metal box right next to you and knew exactly who you were up against.

You weren't thrilled at all, Wesker or "Mastermind" -as the Entity called him- was such a try hard with his skillful dashes, that you sometimes questioned if he actually was just doing it since "it's better strategy" and not for the fact he enjoys doing stunts like that.

You sighed as you rummaged around the other normal chest you found -since you forgot to equip an item- and found a flashlight, which was perfect.

Then, you heard his little chuckle Wesker does, before he dashes and was swept up immedietly and thrown quite far away.

You groaned at the impact, but got up and ran, the killer close on your tail.

Just in time, you found a pallet and smacked it on top of his head, flashed the flashlight into his face -which usually angers him a lot- and then ran more.

This back and forth between you two continued, and three gens already popped, which you were glad about.

But, alas, your confidence came back to bite you in the ass.

Wesker caught you again, slammed you against the shack, and just kept you there, while he grinned.

"Caught you now." The killer was so so close, your lips almost touched.

He was amused in his own twisted way. An ordinary human made him run so much, but in the end, was caught easily.

"Gonna hook me now?" You squeked out, your throat was held tight with the uwuburos, making breathing difficult.

Awh, you're adorable. A little mouse, if you will. Wesker knew the Entity's rules, but eventually, he will have his fun with you.

Another gen popped.

"Oh no, i'm keeping you here." He said, gave you a little peck on the lips, just to confuse you even further. Nootherreasonwhatareyoutalkingabout.

Then stepped away, but the virus stayed, locking you against the wall. "Your performance was above average. Congratulations." He bowed. "You gained the tiniest respect from me."

He left with a smirk. You tried to claw away the black thing that just didn't seem budge or tear away. So, you gave up. You looked up into the fake dark sky, thinking...

What the Hell did you get into.

The Nightmare (Freddy Krueger):

The dream realm was a tricky thing to navigate in. You sometimes were weirded out by the bloodpools that scared the living shit out of you, when you accidently stepped into them.

Today, there were no generators. Which made you uneasy. What the heck is going on?

You walked into the main building and tried to listen.

Then, the laugh. That annoying, weird, freaky laugh Freddy made, then you were in the dream realm. You looked around, like a deer in headlight. Trying to listen in on the killer.

"What the Hell is going on?" You asked out loud. You turned around and there he was, leaning against a generator that was NOT there a second ago.

"A new game." He simply amswered with a grin. Freddy seemed too happy. "A little gift from the Entity to me."

"Okay, but wha-"

"Shhh shhh shhh let me finish."

"Sorry."

"Khm. So, easy," he leaned away from the gen and stepped toward you, "you find the fake generator, and you win a price!" His grin told you there was a twist.

"If I don't?"

"... you'll know." He said with a childish innocence. "Good luck!" Then he disappeared.

Great.

After God knows how long, you finally found the fake generator. Which made it bleed, just like in normal trials, and Freddy appeared.

"Now, that wasn't that difficult, was it?"

"What the Hell is your game, Freddy?"

"Making out with you."

"What??" Before your shock truely registered, you were up against the bloody generator with him kissing you roughly.

You tried to push against him, but there was no use, of course there wasn't, you mentally rolled your eyes.

So, you just let it happen.

The kiss wasn't... Bad. You sadly had to admit.

Freddy held you surprisingly gently by the waist and neck. But his kiss was bruising and he did bite your lower lip more than once.

You started to actually kiss back and held his waist in one hand, while the other was on his shoulder.

Why were you kissing back? What the Hell is wrong with you? You don't know, but it feels... Right?

Then, you woke up wide eyed. You blinked a thousand times and just stared above you. The roof of your tent cleared up from the blurry image it was. Then you just... Licked you lip, feeling it was dry and had a smoky taste.

WHAT. THE. HELL????

[nekrosdolly]

another wesker brain rot blurb (18+)

cw; unhinged wesker thanks to uroboros, uroboros injections and mentions, canon compliant with the events leading up to re5, husband wesker, objectification if you squint, temperature differences (he is an icicle personified sorry guys), domesticated wesker, fingering, non-specified reader genitalia.

pet names (reader received): my dear, dearest, little dove

husband albert wesker ♡ ︎♡ ︎♡

husband wesker, who, thanks to uroboros, has a heightened sense of smell. since starting his injections, he's been obsessed with how you smell- your shampoo, your cologne/perfume, any lotions you'd use. even the scent of your skin without any product added is addictive.

husband wesker, who cooks for you despite his developing lack of appetite. he knows you need to eat and truthfully, he enjoys cooking. he never got to experience he domestics of having a homelife, what with his whole life being Umbrella ever since he was born. learning to cook is definitely stressful at first and he's not good to begin with- he's a scientist, not a chef. truthfully, he burns a lot of things at first, but you're a good sport and you help him along. he is embarrassed the first few times, even if he doesn't outright say it you can tell by the way the tips of his ears turn pink and how his lip twitches.

husband wesker, who comes up from behind when you're least expecting it and slides his hand to the small of your back, dipping his head down to kiss your hair, secretly marveling at how good you smell. he adores how soft your hair is too. how loud your heart beats in your chest when he moves his hand to your hip, when he murmurs in your ear, "you are divine, my dear."

husband wesker, who, despite losing his humanity, knows to treat you with care. though his primal instincts have begun to take over, he's careful with you as he's always been. though his eyes have turned red, his pupils to slits, he looks at you with adoration. his touches are never violent- he's become gentler since taking doses of Uroboros. he treats you less like your own person and more like a prize to hang on a wall. everything you do makes his heart, beating or otherwise, swell with pride. his blood roars in his ears at the most innocent of touches from you.

husband wesker, who was never one for kisses before Uroboros, now kisses you like his life depends on it. always handsy and needs you near for him to focus, otherwise he's worried about what you're doing and who you might be with. he knows you'd never rat him out- you love him just as much as he loves you, after all- but he can't help the thought that someone is manipulating you. someone that isn't him, and that hurts. he has no reason to be jealous

husband wesker, who never blows up your phone, but takes to periods of the cold shoulder until you finally get him to tell you what's wrong. his rage is calm with you. he'll make you sit in his lap while he tells you what's wrong, only for you to soothe him and assuage his fears. you know he's coming from a good place, even if his methods are a bit odd. his hands never leave you as he talks, finding comfort in stroking your hair or your cheek, even rubbing circles on the meat of your hips. without his gloves, his fingers are just as cold as ever, even through layers of clothing.

husband wesker, who's gentle with you during sex because if he's not, he might seriously injure you. his grip on your hips is deadly, but other than that, he's a saint. he whispers praises while he fingers your fluttering entrance, his fingers slick with your come and lube. "you're taking my fingers so well, little dove. can you take another? just one more for me, dearest?"

you'll nod, a quiet moan leaving you when he adds a third finger- they're long and on the thicker side, helping to stretch you open in preparation while also hitting that spot that makes you go limp. he kisses your neck, down to your collarbone, where he leaves lovebites and admittedly very dark hickeys. your nails digging into his arm brings him back from his thoughts, and he watches you come undone from his fingers for the second time. this was supposed to prep you, but he loves how you look with his fingers buried within you.

[mamirhodessxox]

Leon: When I said you should try being friendlier this isn't what I meant.

Y/N, stirring a cup of tea aggressively: Oh, so now I'm TOO friendly? There's no pleasing you.

Carlos, who broke into their house an hour ago: Two sugars please.

Y/N: Coming right up.

[sharksnshakes]

Dinner? - Albert Wesker

Wesker keeps calling you into his office to run point. It's definitely not anything deeper than that, right?

A/N; wesker? with a crush? unspeakable. gn!reader

Wordcount; 629

TW; one singular curse word, use of (y/n) and (l/n)

"(l/n)," Wesker calls, "A word?"

Startled, you glance up from your paperwork and cast a glance behind you. your captain's sticking his head out of his office door, watching you expectantly. You hadn't even heard it open.

It felt like Wesker was calling you into his office to run point every three seconds, and while Jill and Chris had reassured you the action was complimentary, you had your doubts. Even so, you set down your pen and shuffled your paperwork, nodding at the captain.

"Sure. Of course," you reply, meeting Wesker's eyes. The door shuts before you can finish speaking, and you resist sighing out loud.

It's not that you don't respect Captain Wesker: you do, really! No, you just feel like a bug under a microscope whenever you're in that office. You two compare notes--or, rather, Wesker asks your opinion, and you give it to him--and you leave feeling like you've either said the wrong thing, been too honest, or some combination of both.

It doesn't help that his added attention always made your cheeks flush. When he's hanging onto your every word and looking at you like that? It only made you even more hesitant to face him... he's attractive, and he knows it.

You passed Chris on your way to the office, and he gave you an encouraging thumbs-up. That was the other thing: Chris was practically Wesker's right hand man, and yet, you are the one who's constantly being called into his office. You tried not to think too hard about it as you pulled the door open and stepped inside.

Wesker was seated at his desk, focusing intently on a map of sorts, and you knocked softly on the doorframe.

The blond glanced up. "Come in. Shut the door behind you."

You nodded, closing it with a soft click. Your footfalls were quiet on the carpeted floor, and as you approached the desk, you waited for his inevitable questions.

"Dinner."

Your brow furrowed. "What about it?"

"Should I pick you up at seven?"

You blinked owlishly, shaking your head as if to physically clear it. "I'm sorry," you said, "Are you asking me on a date right now?"

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "Seven, then?"

Holy shit.

Wesker was asking you on a date. Like... actually.

"I... is that, like, against S.T.A.R.S. protocol? Dating my supervisor?" you asked, mouth moving faster than your brain. You wanted to take the words back the second they left your mouth, but when Wesker chuckled, amused, and leaned forward, chin in his palms, all of your self-doubts shriveled up and died.

"Would you like to go to dinner with me, or not?"

That is the question, isn't it? You'd been so certain of his dislike for you, but now? You prided yourself on being able to read people, but considering current circumstances, it was an ability you'd have to re-evaluate.

Well... how bad could it be?

"Uh. I'd--I think it could be fun," you finally answered, grasping for the right words. "Sure. I mean, yes! Yes, I'd like to go to dinner with you."

"Wonderful. I'll pick you up at seven."

He glanced back down at the map, and you failed to understand how he managed to exude the confidence required to ask people out so casually.

"I'll see you later, then?"

"Yeah. See you," you echoed, stepping out of his office.

The door shut behind you with a slight click, and you stood there, shocked.

You had a date tonight.

Had he always liked you?

"Looking a little pale there, (y/n)," Jill joked from across the room. "You alright?"

Oh, she didn't even know the half of it.

...What were you going to wear?

[dmitriene]

— shadows of empathy.

 ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ «precious and fragile things»  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «need special handling»  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «my god, what have we done to you?»

summary: you don’t remember how you ended up in this laboratory, how long you endured pain, but you remember the warmth of his hands and the muffled whisper of promises. content: albert wesker x gn reader tags: lots of hurt x comfort at the end, lot of experiments, suffering from moral and physical pain, mention of needles and sadism, may be presence of stockholm syndrome, presence of william birkin. (let me know if i forgot something!) author's note: my first time of writing for wesker and also including some sensitive topics, hope you'll enjoy! enjoy your reading) 💉

The atmosphere of the lab was eerie and oppressive, a place where the lines between humanity and scientific curiosity were blurred, cold fluorescent light cast sharp shadows on sterile metal surfaces, the air was filled with the strong smell of disinfectant mixed with the acrid taste of chemicals, a constant hum of machines, a haunting reminder of the experiments being carried out within these walls.

For you, locked in the walls of the laboratory, the environment became a real nightmare, your memory was a fragmented puzzle the pieces of which were missing like scattered pieces of glass, you clung to the fragments that you had, for flashes of life before the laboratory, which seemed far away and out of reach, your confusion was a constant companion, a gnawing emptiness that made you yearn for answers.

In moments of introspection, you were often lost, looking through the small window of your cell at a world that seemed both familiar and alien, the darkness outside seemed to reflect the darkness in your own mind, a vast expanse of uncertainty that stretched to infinity.

The screams that echoed down the corridor, both yours and those of other unfortunate souls, were a symphony of anguish that haunted your every waking moment.

Over time, despair grew, the desire for freedom and truth intensified, the laboratory became a tangled prison, every cell a cage for lost memories and broken dreams, you longed for answers, even the smallest piece of your past, something for which you could survive the chaos and uncertainty.

Among the same snow white walls it was harsh and frightening, the sterile white surfaces reflected the already familiar harsh fluorescent light, the air was saturated with the smell of antiseptics and chemicals, a constant reminder of the clinical nature of this place, the hum of machines seemed to be reflected through the walls creating an unsettling symphony of technology, cold metal instruments were neatly laid out on the tables next to your vulnerable body strapped to the examination table.

Everything around was a nightmarish reality from which you could not escape, the environment was alien and unfamiliar, as if you had entered a world that defied logic, the memories were fragmentary, elusive, leaving again and again in deep confusion and fear.

You trembled in the bonds that held you, your eyes darted around the room in search of something recognizable, your heart pounded as you struggled to piece together the mystery of your existence, your inability to remember anything in front of the sterile laboratory walls eventually turned into a gaping mental wound.

Confusion and fear enveloped you like a suffocating shroud, you were a fragile figure among the cold equipment, a mixture of fear and bewilderment was read in your eyes, memories of a former life were just fragments, disparate images that you clung to in vain while your mind was a labyrinth of uncertainty.

The experiments you endured left scars on your body and your spirit broken, pain was a constant companion, each injection and procedure was a brutal attack that seemed to blur the line between life and suffering, you were trapped in a cycle of agony, unable to escape the torment become your new reality.

Your fear of Albert Wesker and Birkin was palpable, Wesker's presence was a mystery — his power and motives are obscure, his calculated gaze and measured words sent shivers down your spine, the unpredictability of his actions heightened your unease.

Birkin, on the other hand, was the epitome of cruelty, his touch was aggressive, and his detachment from your suffering caused waves of terror, making you feel like a pawn in a game you couldn't understand.

When Wesker and Birkin stood together in the lab, their conversations swirled around you like a nightmarish symphony.

— «Progress is being made» Birkin said, his voice devoid of compassion as he treated you as if you were more of an experiment than a person.

Wesker's gaze darted towards you, his expression enigmatic — «She's more than just data, Birkin» he declared, and there was a hint of something in his voice that you couldn't understand.

Birkin chuckled — «Sentimentality has no place here, Wesker, our goals are much more important than the personality»

Your heart was pounding wildly in your chest, a mixture of fear and despair flowed through your veins, and as soon as you spoke, suddenly your voice broke out with a strong tremor — «P-please, I need to know… Why am I here? What did I do?»

Wesker's gaze met yours, something like a display of sympathy flickering in his eyes — «You're not here because of what you've done» he said softer than you expected — «But rather because of what others seek to achieve»

Birkin's lips instantly twisted into a cruel smile — «You are a vessel for our experiments, a means to an end, your goal — is to serve science»

His words only allowed your fear and confusion to grow, the heaviness of their words crushed more than anything else, you felt trapped, driven into a nightmare where the answers were elusive and the pain endless, and as their dialogue went on, you became more and more withdrawn into yourself, a frail figure lost in a world that seemed to revel in your suffering.

 ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

The experiment was a frightening mixture of clinical detachment and palpable tension, the cold, sterile walls of the lab echoing with the mechanical hum of the machinery, creating an unsettling symphony, the blindingly bright light overhead casting harsh shadows, making every detail of the lab stand out with unsettling clarity, through the air saturated with the smell of antiseptics and chemicals reminded that this is a place where scientific curiosity got the better of sympathy.

Your body became the canvas for these invasive experiments, each one a brutal assault on your physical and mental well-being, pain was a constant, unrelenting presence — a searing fire that ate from within as needles pierced your skin, delivering viruses and serums, your body convulsed in agony, and the once clear mind turned into a haze of suffering, unable to escape the torment inflicted on you.

Screams, this time your own echoed through the laboratory, a symphony of pain that seemed to go unnoticed by scientists consumed by their own ambitions, the shackles that held you in place seemed like shackles, a cruel reminder of your helplessness, every injection, every cut, every probing tool caused waves of agony that makes you shiver and gasp.

The pain was not only physical but also emotional, the experiments robbed you of your self respect, leaving you feeling like you were just a vessel for their perverted pursuits, loss of control, abuse of your body and inability to understand the purpose of your own suffering created a sense of isolation that was as heartbreaking as the physical pain.

Amidst the agony, there were moments when you clung to fragments of your personality, soapy fleeting memories of your life before the lab, those memories were both a source of comfort and an added layer of anguish as they stood in stark contrast to the nightmare you were now living.

The pain of the experiments was an unrelenting force, a nightmare from which it was impossible to escape, but in this nightmare there was a spark of resilience, determination to survive and a fragile hope that one day the agony would subside and you could regain your identity and your life.

But all this was ruined by the appearance of Birkin, the atmosphere in his presence was suffocating — a toxic mixture of clinical detachment and sadistic curiosity, he moved with an imperious air, his cold, calculating eyes were fixed on you as if you were nothing more than an interesting specimen, laboratory seemed to shrink in his presence, the shadows cast by his body adding to the eerie feeling of being trapped in his gaze.

His gloves, stained with the remnants of countless experiments, contrasted sharply with your pale and delicate skin, his touch was sharp and impersonal, he treated you as if you were an object and not a person, each injection felt like an invasion, his gloved fingers pressed the needle into your flesh with heartless disregard for your pain.

The dialogue was marked by a frightening lack of empathy, Birkin's words were clinical, his tone devoid of compassion as he discussed you as if you were a puzzle to be solved — «You turn out to be very hardy» he thought one day as he narrowed his eyes as he watched you writhe in agony — «It's amazing how the human body reacts to such stressors»

You struggled to find your voice in the pain, your sighs and cries met with cold indifference — «Please.. stop it..» you managed to squeeze out, your voice was barely a whisper, but your plea went unheeded, as if your suffering was nothing more than a necessary component of his experiments.

Birkin's answers were distant and unsettling, his words imbued with a kind of twisted charm — «Pain is just a sensation that needs to be studied and understood» he remarked with a note of superiority — «Your body's response provides valuable data that will drive our research»

Despite your vulnerability, you felt a surge of anger and frustration — «I'm not just data» you retorted in a voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance, but your defiance only seemed to amuse him, his lips curved into a grim smile.

— «Ah, but you are, my dear» he replied, his eyes glittering with alarming intensity — «You — are the embodiment of the progress of science, the sacrifice of one for the good of many»

Your short dialogues were a perverse dance of power dynamics, a clash between your desperation to be accepted as a person and his determination to turn you into a mere object for experimentation, his words left an indelible mark on the soul, a reminder that in the walls of the laboratory you were nothing more than a pawn in their twisted games.

And yet, in the midst of darkness and cruelty, there was an unexpected glimmer of hope, Albert Wesker, the man you once feared, seemed to offer a different perspective — one that hinted at the possibility of redemption, compassion, and a chance to break free from the clutches of Birkin's sadism and the relentless pain of experimentation.

Still in the same dimly lit lab, the air grew even more oppressive with tension as Albert Wesker confronted William Birkin.

Their disagreements contrasted sharply with the clinical setting, Wesker's normally stoic expression taking on a tinge of unexpected tension, and a hint of disapproval in his voice.

— «She's not just a sample, Birkin» Wesker's voice cut through the sterile atmosphere, the words carrying a weight that seemed to challenge the very core of their work.

Birkin, a scientist that always driven by ambition, glanced at Wesker with a raised eyebrow — «And what would you advise, Wesker? That i handle her with care? She's here to experiment, not to babysit»

Wesker's gaze hardened, his stance unshakable — «There is a line between scientific curiosity and cruelty, the data we collect is invaluable, but it does not justify causing unnecessary suffering to it»

Birkin's lips curled into a cynical smile — «You're attached, aren't you? To our little experiment»

Wesker's jaw clenched, but he didn't deny the accusation, instead, there was a rare note of vulnerability in his voice — «She's more than just an experiment, Birkin, there's something about her… a vulnerability i can't ignore»

Birkin's eyes sparkled with amusement — «You let sentimentality overshadow your judgment, Wesker, remember why we're here — to advance our research»

As the argument went on, Wesker's words lingered in his own memory, a discordant note in the symphony of ambition that had guided him for so long, his eyes fixed on you, your fragile frame a stark reminder of the consequences of his and Birkin's actions.

At that moment, a sudden realization hit him with a force that made him reel, he felt something — something he had long suppressed.

Guilt, Regret. And something else he dared not name, your suffering, the fear in your eyes kindled in him a coal of sympathy, a flame that challenged the calculated detachment he had cultivated.

He turned away from Birkin, his gaze was fixed on you, your vulnerability was a mirror reflecting his own, the truth he avoided, you — the one who was once just an object, became in his eyes a person — a person he could not ignore, no matter how hard he tries.

As he dealt with his conflicting emotions, the atmosphere in the lab seemed to fade, the hum of machinery less insistent, the cold walls less cramped, in this moment of introspection Wesker realized he was at a crossroads — between the brutality he had once accepted, and the compassion he now struggled with.

And just when Wesker's inner turmoil intensified, he abruptly turned away, and his steps carried him to the exit, he could no longer see your suffering, emotions seethed inside him in a chaotic whirlpool that threatened to engulf him.

He stopped in the doorway, his back turned to the scene unfolding behind him, he clenched his fists, his heart pounding as he struggled to regain his composure, his emotions a storm he had never encountered before that could destroy the carefully constructed façade he supported for so long.

And so, in a moment of overwhelming emotion, he made a decision that defied his own instincts and left you alone with Birkin, it was an act of self preservation, a desperate attempt to distance himself from the rising emotions that frightened him, he could not afford to become entangled in your suffering, could not allow newfound sympathy to consume him.

With a heavy heart, he left the room, his footsteps echoing in the hallway as he moved away from the scene he could not bear to witness, and in his absence everything around changed the silence was broken only by your soft, strained breathing and mechanical sounds.

Alone with Birkin, your vulnerability was stark against the cold, clinical setting, your eyes were a mixture of fear and despair, the weight of helplessness weighed on you, the atmosphere was a frightening reminder of the brutality you faced, a reality that seemed to loom even more in the absence Wesker.

As the experiments continued, your screams and the mechanical sounds of the laboratory merged into a dissonant symphony, an inexorable reminder of the torment you endured, and as the darkness of the room gathered around you, you were left to confront your fear and pain alone, being a prisoner of a world where cruelty and compassion existed in the fragile, unsteady balance.

 ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

Late in the evening, an eerie twilight enveloped the lab, casting elongated shadows on cold surfaces, the air thick with the remnants of the day's experiments mingled with the acrid smell of chemicals, equipment humming softly somewhere in the background, a constant reminder of the clinical nature of this place.

Albert Wesker walked down the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing off the dark walls, his usual air of stoic determination present, his gaze fixed forward as he approached the room where you was being held, but as he entered, his determination faltered to a sudden heaviness in the chest.

There you sat, crouched in the corner of the room, your figure curled up, your once bright eyes now dim and ghostly, and your frail body seemed even smaller in the dim harsh light, your breathing was ragged, each breath was a visible struggle, as if you were struggling — not only with the pain of experimentation, but also with the weight of his broken spirit.

Wesker's steps slowed, his eyes narrowed as he assessed your condition, he came to take you away for further research to continue the experiments that had been his goal for so long, but when he looked at you, something inside him changed — unexpected a pang of guilt, a crack in the façade of indifference he cultivated.

His desire to comfort you was an alien feeling that he buried under layers of ambition and detachment, the desire to lend a helping hand, to offer solace, belied his ingrained sense of control as he hesitated, his gaze met yours and for a moment he saw beyond the pain — the shattered remains a man who has endured too much.

At that moment, the clinical atmosphere of the lab gave way to a rare vulnerability, the hum of machinery seemed quieter, Wesker's internal struggles reflected on his features, the conflict between his cold exterior and the sudden warmth that surged through him.

His presence seemed to fill the room, his tall figure drawing attention even in dimmed light, there was a rare uncertainty in his typically cold gaze, a flash of emotion dancing under the surface, his outstretched hand hung in the air, fingers ready to reach out, eyes remaining chained to you.

You recoiled, your body language tense with a mixture of fear and defiance, your eyes, once dull with pain, now widened with a new sense of unease, you recoiled at his touch, the instinct to push him away was strong inside, and the clinical atmosphere of the laboratory only intensified the intensity of the moment, as if the walls were conspiring against you.

— «No!» you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and despair — «Stay away from me!»

Wesker's expression remained unreadable, his hand hung in the air, but as your words hung between you, his fingers slowly lowered, and his eyes softened slightly — «I don't want to hurt you..» he replied with a rare vulnerability in his voice.

The tension in the room was palpable as you both were here, your figures grappling in a silent battle of wills, your fear fighting the country with a spark of curiosity, a hint of the realization that Wesker was more than the ruthless image he cast.

His usual air of stoic aloofness was replaced by uncharacteristic uncertainty as he took a step closer, extending his hand once more.

Your body tensed, memories of his previous actions and the cruel experiments he witnessed etched deep in your soul as you tried to push him away, a mixture of horror and defiance fueling your actions.

His hands were trembling slightly, which was indicative of the inner struggle he was struggling with.

The closer he came with his arm outstretched, the more often you shuddered and rested against the corner of the wall, fear emanated from you, your eyes were wide open and alert, your muscles contracted as if ready to jump away, you tried to push him away, small hands weakly resisted his approach.

Wesker's expression remained calm, his eyes didn't flinch even as you struggled against his touch — «I won't hurt you, i promise» he said in an amazingly gentle voice — «I know it's hard to trust, but i promise i'm not here to hurt you anymore»

Your breathing was rapid, your chest rising and falling in a chaotic rhythm as your gaze fell on him, the room seemed to close around, the walls choking with a wounding grip, though his presence provided an unexpected reprieve.

The desire for safety fought against your instinctive fear, leaving you torn between the desire to escape and the possibility of finding any semblance of comfort.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Wesker closed the remaining distance between the two of you, his arms wrapped around your feeble body, his embrace firm but careful.

At first you struggled against his grip, your body tense with anticipation, but he held you tenderly, squeezing your wrist gently but relentlessly as your hand touched his chest, offering an anchor amidst the storm of emotion raging within you.

— «I won't let anyone hurt you anymore» he muttered, his voice a different kind of medicine contrasting with the harsh reality of your surroundings, his words a promise, a declaration of his newfound commitment to your well being.

As his words reached your consciousness, your resistance began to weaken, the tension in your body slowly subsided, replaced by fragile vulnerability, tears of their own, as if intuitively welling up in your eyes, flickering in the dim light like unshed diamonds.

You hesitated, your hands hovering over his chest as if not knowing where to put them — «Please..» you whispered in a voice trembling with despair and anguish — «I don't… i don't know who i am anymore, i-i'm scared»

Wesker's embrace intensified, pulling you closer until your head was pressed against his chest, he could feel your tears dampen his shirt, soft sobs echoing through the room — «Everything is alright..» he muttered, pressing his lips against your hair — «You're not alone anymore, i'll be here to protect you»

Your resistance collapsed completely, your fragile self defense shattered like glass, you pressed against him tighter, letting your body shake with sobs as you finally let go of the pain and fear that had built up inside.

In his arms, the environment changed again, turning the cold, sterile room into a haven where vulnerability met compassion and fear met the promise of security.

His embrace was a testament to his newfound commitment, a gesture of comfort that spoke volumes, and as your tears soaked into his shirt, he held you close, offering a rare glimpse of his humanity — a man who despite his past found himself attached to you in this way, that defied reason and ignited a glimmer of connection that none of you could have foreseen.

 ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌   ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌«angels with silver wings»  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «shouldn't know suffering»  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌«i wish i could take the pain from you»

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© dmitriene - my masterlist please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me. reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

[froggy-anon]

I don’t smoke (Except for when I'm missing you)

Paring: pre re2!Ada Wong x gn!reader

Prompt: Your relationship with Ada was… let’s just say rocky for a while now. Low contact, constant work trips and unavoidable arguments while she’s home- it’s just too much. You both changed since she started working with Wesker …, and so did your body.

Warnings:  angst, body horror, no use of y/n, maybe nsft?, implied reader’s death, bebe you get infected so yeah but it wasn't meant to happen at least, semi-dependant reader, use of tobacco, vomiting, shitty punctuation and misuse of commas, canon divergence, semi-good ending???? idk

Word count: 2.3k 

Notes: omg did I finally post something instead of keeping it in my wips?? hell yeah! I might not be hyperfixating on RE now but I can't get Ada off my head. I mean- just look at her! She's perfect<3 Fucking hell it took me A LONG time to finally finish it but shh… Also only after writing did I realize that the idea is very similar to this fic my @uhlunaro so definitely check this out bc they’re an amazing writer<3

Actually proofread (like ½ for sure) by me omg

It all happened too fast; it was just the usual Thursday morning, the smell of freshly ground coffee and the familiar scent of your lover were in the air as you made the breakfast and the eggs you made were perfectly crispy with runny yolk. Everything seemed to be like it used to but then the call happened… You knew who was it, everyone knew because who else would it be? It was supposed to be your day, you both took the day off and you spent the last few days planning everything out. It was your anniversary, the day you should celebrate your love and not some emergency in the lab! But of course… She was gone again. 

“Why can’t you just pretend that you love me for once!?,” was the last thing you cried out screamed at her as she left. It’s just painful to know that even today her work is more important. It left you weeping softly on the floor, as the yolk of the egg spilled more and more towards your feet from the plate you broke. “Why can’t we be a normal couple…” Your tears had flown out even more now that you were alone.

Ada never liked when you smoked, she always said it left this awful scent on your fingers and breath but why would you care now? A soft breeze hit your face as you inhaled the smoke from your cigarette, who’d think that living near the river could be so nice? Loving Ada is tiring, she used to be one of the most caring and loving people you’ve ever known- even before you started dating! And now it all changed… Yeah, working in some big pharma company can be tiring but it’s ruining both of you. 

The butt of the cigarette was still slowly burning as you looked in the distance. She used to tell you how she grew up near the sea, how they used to go there every day after school and play until the dawn came. She used to say how she’d take me to her hometown in China. You never were even close to one, your parents used to take you and your brother to the countryside on holidays or visit the lake near your hometown; it wasn’t the same though. Loving Ada was never easy, she had her own problems as well as you had yours but before all this you both managed to heal, to thrive. You should’ve left when it started, before all the arguments and hate. It’s not a new idea but the thought of being alone again is scary. Ugh, you’re thinking too much, it makes you dizzy. Or maybe was it the cigarette?

You always get dizzy, maybe all this overthinking is too much for you. You head towards the kitchen sink and fill up a glass with the tap water. It was just a small argument, it wasn’t worth all the mess. You never thought that water would make you feel worse, no one would! We need it to live, so why your insides are burning? Who cares, anyway the mess won’t clean itself. It doesn’t feel right, nothing feels right. The burning sensation might’ve stopped but it was replaced with this sore, almost itchy feeling. Ada came home late again, she’s not looking better than you but as you greet her you could see a spark of worry in her eyes. Why would she worry? There’s nothing to worry about, right? All you can do is sigh and act like nothing happened, she surely flinches when you kiss her because she’s still annoyed over today’s morning…

You woke up somehow more tired than before you went to sleep. Funny enough you also look like shit. Yeah, you can tell yourself that you caught a cold but if so, then why does my body itch so much? Ada looks less worried than tomorrow but finally is some more affectionate than usual. Maybe the fight made her think finally.

You miss her touch though; the way she smuggles up to your chest and how soft are her lips. You miss how she used to be so good. You miss how your life was before this Wesker guy. Good, she’s warming up again. She kissed you goodbye and said something about coming home later. Weird…

It’s itching, itching so much. It feels like something is under your skin and it’s moving… It sure has to be a delusion, a hallucination maybe but it feels so real. Let’s try to calm down. okay? You can’t go to work while being such a mess and after all some DayQuill will help you a ton. You go to the kitchen and prepare some breakfast before popping some cold meds. You brush your still tangled hair to the side and oh my… I- it’s weird, you always had strong and healthy hair after all so why a clump of them is in your hand right now? I mean, I guess all all of the stress lately finally got to you, being a news reporter is not easy and it shouldn’t be. You sure will feel better when you’re finally in your work wear and clean face.

As soon as you get to the bathroom you hit the sink and rinse your face. It’s dry and surprisingly harder than always. As you lift your head and you look in the mirror, the rougher parts of your face look bruised. And there are some lacerations which weren’t there when you woke up- Ada would point them out for sure. It’s weird but that’s nothing that some makeup can’t fix. Also, it’s not like you can just get a day off at a whim. The amount of concealer you put on your face is enough to put a gyaru inro shame and yet your face still feels wrong and itchy. You brush your hair getlly while trying to not rip out another chunk of your hair and put on your usual shirt and blazer before putting on short heels on your sore and reddish feet. You sat at the vanity waiting for your usual makeup artist to return and rehearse your lines. It’s so hard to focus on the letters and it feels like you’re in a haze. It’s hard to explain really, mostly because it’s hard to form coherent thoughts too. No matter how much you rub your eyes and take small breaks you just can’t focus on anything. Words on the paper are blurry and there's always a silhouette of something or someone in the corner of your vision. It hurts and you’re almost sure that your feet are bleeding. You don’t even realize when the makeup artist has returned and been putting some TV stick on your face until she gets to the painful lesions you passed as some chemical burn from a face mask. Your concept of time is distorted and looking back now you don’t even remember when you and your colleague went live. Funny… You got suddenly sick and now you’re delivering the news of the water reservoir your apartment complex uses being contaminated.

Black tar filled your lungs making your trachea burn so pleasantly. The smoke inside your lungs made you feel so giddy right before you exhale. Cigarettes always help you take your mind off your problems and help preserve good emotions. You know that one day they will be the end of you, but it’s not like you’re gonna live forever so why not have fun now? 

Shadowy figures followed you home from the studio, it’s surprising that you managed to work your usual shift. Even your coworkers caught on your ailing and lying to them that you’re just a bit under the weather felt bad. Bills ain’t gonna pay themselves though so you gotta do what you gotta do. Ada didn’t say anything about your illness and only looked at you pitifully compassionately before kissing your cheek, she even offered to make a dinner for today. You pulled into a hug and her warm touch against your calloused skin reminded you of the old times, of the days you first met and how beautiful your relationship was. She smelled like honey and antiseptics, you couldn’t stop yourself from taking a deep breath of her scent which made your heart flutter. Her skin is so soft and delicate, making you want to bite down and taste her flesh push her against the counter and take her whole, she’s your wife after all. Before you can do that though she pulls away and makes a beeline towards the fridge. The packs of water, the ones that appeared in your kitchen a few days ago, took your attention away from her. You couldn’t help but feel a bit suspicious.

You didn’t sleep much- in fact, you didn’t sleep at all. Your body just kept itching and the nausea you felt as you forced down the dinner before got progressively worse. You can feel your body changing, turning into something disgusting as your skin gets progressively covered in more bruises and blisters where it seemed to be just irritated this morning. The taste of pennies in your mouth and dry skin on your lips isn’t doing you any favour either. It was only a matter of time before you ended up hunched over the toiled letting the dark ooze flow out of your stomach freely. Your vision kept spinning and those black creatures you saw before were coming closer. It’s not real, it has to be! Just try to remember that whatever you’re seeing is. not. real.

Throwing up usually makes you feel better; not this time though. Your eyes became watery and your fingers bloody as you gripped the toilet bowl. The odour of rotting flesh filled your nostrils and the sickeningly sweet note of it made you gag again. You dealt with rotten meat before on a few occasions and it never was so sweet.

“Shit!”

You broke out of your trance as the bathroom lit up.  Your head shot in the direction of the sound and of course, you noticed your worried lover standing in the doorway. Only a grunt was able to leave your mouth making your throat ache. “Are you okay?” She asked hesitantly as she approached. She looks scared for some reason? You’re just a bit sick, there’s no reason to be scared!

And then you looked down. The toilet was full of brownish-blackish and thick fluid and definitely not dinner. The sides of the toilet were covered in your blood and one of your nails was lying on the floor directly next to the bowl. You take a look at your hands and it makes your breath quicken. Your fingers were all purple and greenish, even some of the tips of your fingers were, unlike the spots on your skin, bloated.

“What the fuck is happening to me?” Your voice was husky and every word felt like a razor being pulled out of your throat. Ada just looked sad… You’d expect her to be scared, to scram, run away, but instead, she just kneeled next to you and pulled you into a loose embrace, as if she was scared to hurt you more.

It pained you, the lightest touch of her silky pyjamas or her warm hands made your skin feel like it was breaking and about to fall off. It was excruciating yet you laid your head gently on her shoulder. You should be scared, furious! You should feel whatever else than sorrow and warmth inside your chest. A few tears flew down your cheeks onto her arm as you bit down on your lip to stop a pathetic sob from escaping. You could feel her hand slowly crase your head like she always did before you used to fall asleep before your life became occupied by jealousy and your jobs took over your time, before your relationship went downhill. She let out a barely audible “I’m sorry…” and you swear you felt her breath hitch.

They are scratching your brain, you can feel every bone in your body change its shape, or maybe you’re just going insane.

Ada is making phone calls in the kitchen as you sit at the dinner table and scratch your fingers, eventually ripping one or two loose fingernails off. She keeps glancing at you while trying her best to hide the fear in her eyes. Damn, a cigarette would be good now… You can feel your muscles tear with your every move and slowly fall off your bones. Necrosis on your skin expands and only a few spots on your body are left the same colour as before.

It hurts, it hurts it hurts it hurts ithurts ithurts ithurts ithurtsithutsithurtsithutrsithurst i t h u r t s  s o  b a d l y.

Suddenly you can smell the familiar scent of honey and now Ada’s shampoo as she wraps her hands around you from behind. She looks so soft and tasty, so vulnerable. Her touch hurts so good you want to fall into her tight embrace, squeeze her waist tightly and fuse into one. It makes you feel loved again… And then your body stops aching.

You felt sudden force against your neck like you were punched, and then something lukewarm flowing down your chest as Ada creases your cheek slowly. It hurts for a while until it just stops. Everything just fades…

“I don't smoke Except for when I'm missing you To remember your mouth, how it Tasted true And I don't smoke Except for after I've held you, baby Being with you Makes the flame burn good”

It took me so long to finally post something but here it is! I hope you like the creation of euphoric me because let's be real, no way I'd write this fully without being euphoric :3 Technically it should've been posted on Pride Month but shh...

Dividers: @cafekitsune p1 p2

Song: I don't smoke by Mitski

©2023, froggy-anon and their related entities. All rights reserved.

[gothghostiie]

YOOOOO WELCOME BACK FROM THE SHADOW REALM BABE!!!!!

What better way to celebrate your return than with some steamy Wesker nonsense? Any spicy headcanons, thoughts, or ideas to share?

even if this is a (very) late response, absolutely bestie

my wesker brainrot has been down a whole bunch recently so I'm a bit sad but maybe this will help 😼

banner made my the wonderful @alewesker <3

cw: tiny drabble, brainrot, gn!reader, size difference, rough sex

"Al- fuck, wait-" you breathed heavily, making him chuckle. Your sweet little cries as you took his cock into your tight hole were like music to his ears. Despite your pleas, he began rolling his hips into yours, enough to make you yelp out again. just the sheer size of him was enough to make your legs shake and your hole clench around him.

"Poor little thing, aren't you? Can't even handle my cock properly." He cooed, a mocking undertone in his voice. "Don't you worry your pretty head about it though. I'll make sure it fits."

[5eraphim]

The Huntress, The Mastermind and The Oni x Altruistic survivor

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Characters: The Huntress, The Mastermind and The Oni

Work Count: 2.6k

Rating: PG 

Prompt: The killers catch feelings for an utterly altruistic survivor who keeps getting shafted by their team. In other words, a survivor new to the trials with horrible self-preservation instincts who can't stop getting taken advantage of by the rest of the group. I.E., used for healing, as a meat shield, or as live bait, only to be thrown under the bus by the rest of the team.

A/N: PART TWO HERE!

The Huntress

Considering Anna's spent the longest time in the Entity's realm, she's hardly a stranger to watching altruism leading people to their demise. Hundreds of different occasions to hundreds of other victims, but for some reason, when she sees this continue to happen to you, it affects her differently. She is hardly one to understand her own feelings but does identify that primal, underlying mother-bear urge to protect. It'd be heart-moving if it weren't for the fact the two of you were pitted against each other in a death game. So the best she can manage for a while is to try and go easier on you against the Entity's watch.

This worked for some time, keeping her from getting too distracted out of trials worrying about you, knowing at least she'll be there to help, even if it appeared as though everyone else was ready to backstab you. 

However, despite her best efforts to keep you out of harm's way, her plan backfired after a hatchet thrown at Ash wound up nailing you square in the spine after you stupidly decided it was wise to get him out of the way. Fortunately, you were fast enough to save Ash but not quick enough to save yourself. Finding yourself face down in a puddle of your own blood before you even knew what hit you. Already exhausted, low in sanity, and beaten down, you were ready to accept this would be the bitter end of another unsuccessful trial for you.

Looking up pitifully from your belly in the grass, you felt the hatchet stuck in your back, catching the moon's light as you felt the steel blade spilling your warm blood. You couldn't stop the pathetic, choked, gurgling sounds of terror you sobbed, watching the Huntress stalking towards you. 'Please not another Mori, please not again.' Were your final thoughts as the tall woman loomed over you, her face expressionless and totally hidden under her signature rabbit mask.

"You should be more careful." 

Still shaking like a leaf in agonizing pain below her, you could only gape. You'd never heard her speak before and found yourself captivated by the gruff yet, almost affectionate tone of her voice despite the situation. You were so focused on what you'd heard you hadn't even realized she'd pulled the hatchet from your back until you felt your deep wound rupturing in pain as she harshly pulled upward, causing you to scream in agony.

"Stay here."

Without another word, she departed into the trial, and you could do nothing but groan and shudder in pain as you helplessly listened to the sound of your teammates going down one by one against the bloodthirsty killer.

By the time she returned to your sad, pathetic form, nearly all feeling had left your body, and you hardly even noticed she was there. Not until you saw her shadowy visage looking down at you.

"You're going to die soon. Sorry."

What the hell were you supposed to say to that? You recoiled in fear as you saw her kneeling down to be closer to you. Expecting her to slit your throat and end this bizarre trial swiftly, she carefully scooped you up in her arms instead. Pulling your body close to her chest in her strong arms, careful not to accidentally touch your open wound and amplify your suffering. You were surprised to feel warmth resonating from her body, for the first time hearing the powerful, steady sound of her heart beating in her chest. If it weren't for the insane blood loss, you knew you'd be blushing. Doing your best to summon the last of the strength in your body, you managed to rasp out,

"The hatchet you threw at me, was it- Did you hit me by mistake?"

Not verbalizing an answer, Anna only grunted and nodded at you. In response, you couldn't help but feel sorry for the Huntress. Curling into her chest, you nestled your head to her bosom, pressing your cheek softly against the warmth emanating from her chest, muttering one last thing before whiting out. 

"It's going to be ok. I forgive you."

The Oni

When the Oni watched you in his first few matches with you, hyper-focused on healing your team and repairing the generators, he was ready to write you off as a profoundly unskilled survivor. Merely avoiding any bold confrontation or chases to try and appease the Entity and get by the most cowardly way possible. And there was nothing the Oni hated more than watching the weak cowering to survive.

He instantly decided to single you out in the next several matches, only to discover you weren't afraid to take a hit and provoke him. Ready to give chase, lead him away from others and struggle to live on par with any other he'd fought with any other in this realm.

Kazan takes the longest of all the killers to realize you weren't actually some coward but an altruist. Though, to be fair, he doesn't understand the concept of altruism, let alone why one like yourself with the ability to fight and survive would waste time protecting others.

Generally, in these situations, he'd respect you or at least deem you competent and resolute enough for him not to look down upon you, but something just wasn't right here, something he couldn't quite understand. 

Something about how you so admittedly refused to conform to his standards made him despise you even more than when he thought you were weak.

This culminated at the end of another match against you, a game you had, despite your best efforts, managed to live longest to hear the hatch spawn. Kazan was hot on your trail, but as his luck would have it, the hatch spawned several meters directly in front of you. All you needed to do now was spring forward, and the escape would be yours. Yet to his great annoyance, rather than seizing the opportunity you had, you decided to take a sharp turn, avoiding the escape in hopes of allowing the others still on the map to save themselves and prolong the chase. 

Emitting a fearsome battle cry of fury, Kazan lunged forward, catching you off guard before harshly pinning you to a wall by your shoulders as you let out a cry of pain. As the skin of your face felt the harsh abrasions of the wall, you squeezed your eyes shut, awaiting him to deal his killing blow, yet it never came. Instead, all you could hear were his choppy breathing and that awful heartbeat you could never escape from as you could practically feel the hate in his eyes bearing down upon you. The longer you were held here, the more the anticipation of it all terrified you, causing tremors of fear to run through you, and weakly you tried to squirm against his hold, only to hiss in pain as he tightened his grip, the armor on his hands digging into the flesh of your poor shoulders. 

"You hear that, little survivor?"

Confused by what he meant, you stopped squirming for a moment, recoiling in fear as you felt the Oni adjust his grip so you were fixed in place by only one of his strong hands, which wrapped along your neck, just about daring you to try and wiggle away from him. You tried to look over your shoulder to get a good look at the Oni, but the force he used to push you up against the wall kept you practically locked in place.

"Do I hear what?"

"It's just you and me here. None of your teammates are coming to save you. I could gut you like a fish right here, and not one of them would try and stop me."

To emphasize his point, you felt him warningly pressing the blade of his Katana against the back of your shirt, knowing with just a bit more pressure, he could easily slice the measly fabric to scraps, followed by your skin.

As though you couldn't be dumbfounded enough, you felt the Oni sheath his weapon, wrapping his other hand around your throat before jerking your body away from the wall. You were blind with panic as you felt your body limp in his hold, dragged by him as he walked backward to lead you, God knows where. You were still limp and moments from death when you felt your body hoisted off the ground as the Oni dangled you in front of him, holding you by your neck in a fearsome grip that threatened you to fight back now. 

"Let this be a lesson to you. You will never survive playing the meat shield like this, and if I catch you playing the martyr again, I will decapitate you."

It wasn't until you felt the awful pain around your throat suddenly vanish and your body fell straight down that you realized the most ruthless killer you knew just threw you neck first into the hatch you ran from moments before to safety.

The Mastermind

Considering how it was so pathetically easy for Wesker to take you down, he didn't really pay you much mind in any capacity. Just another weak pawn for him to play with and torture like so many before. In truth, he was almost amused by how it always ended up being you wound up within his tentacles before being smashed into a wall as you braced yourself in pain, as though maybe this time you would be rescued rather than being left out to die like every time before.

Wesker genuinely got off on the power he felt he held over you, the weakest link who couldn't help but continue to face an endless slaughter. That was until he started connecting the dots, however. When he realized you were always going to try and prolong a chase rather than save yourself, or heal another before attending to your own wounds. It wasn't that you were skillless and a victim of incompetency; you knew exactly what you were doing, and you were practically trying to get caught!

That realization left a considerable blow to his ego, as all those prior effortless kills he had over you felt empty. Almost worse than hollow, actually. You knew what you were doing. You weren't taking him seriously! Or rather, you saw facing the killer as a second priority to keeping your team alive.

It took a particularly abysmal match on Wesker's part to finally confront you about what was happening. Unlike so many games before now, he felt like he was being played like an amateur against this group of survivors. They appeared to be one step ahead of him, running him in circles, catching him off guard, and somehow evading his capture. 

By the end of the match, it was just the two of you, as the other three managed to find the exit and save themselves, leaving you as the sacrificial goat to keep him distracted for the good of the rest of the team. You figured that was going on about halfway through the game but didn't feel any need to interfere with this plan. You knew what to do in situations like this, and you weren't about to try and change things up now. Particularly, you couldn't help but smile to yourself watching the typically so tenacious and composed Mastermind buckling under the pressure and couldn't hide the humiliation and shame of ending a match with zero kills under his belt.

Well, almost zero kills, you thought bitterly to yourself as you tried to limp your way to the exit gate despite Wesker hot on your heels and the copious blood you could feel pouring from your wounds.

Just when you were about to think you might survive this one, you felt a tendril wrap around your ankle, throwing you off balance, knocking the wind out of you, and you fell chest-first into the ground below. You were pulled closer to the Mastermind and twisted to lay on your back as you tried desperately to cling to anything that might prolong your inevitable slaughter, all to no avail. To your surprise, when you were finally dragged within arm's reach, Wesker retracted the tentacle from around your ankle as he planted one foot in the center of your chest. Firmly standing with just enough of his body weight to keep you rooted and stop you from squirming but not enough to hurt you. At least, not as much as you would typically expect from him. 

"What will it take for you to finally fight back!? You idiot, don't you know they're only using you to survive! They won't respect you watching you pay like a suicidal maniac- what could you possibly gain from all this!"

You wanted to have the inner strength to tell him to fuck off. Or to say you won't believe a word he was saying, but you didn't have it in you anymore. Something about how you were just all too familiar with what was happening, and Wesker just perfectly verbalized your fear that this was just going to keep happening and happening. Unfortunately, it took the most self-serving man to exist within this realm to call out the selfishness of your so-called allies to bring you to the heartbreaking reality of your situation. 

Before you knew what was happening, you felt a weak sob leave your chest as tears seeped from the corners of your eyes. 

"I know you're right. But at this point, what other choice do I have? If I were in their place, I would've done the same- It's too late for me now."

At this moment, you were ready for Wesker to do his worst. Killing you was his only hope to salvage this truly awful trial. Furthermore, you were sobbing and feeling sorry for yourself, exactly what you knew Wesker hated to see in people. Panting heavily, you looked up at Wesker through teary eyes. You could've sworn you saw his expression soften for just a moment pulling you to your feet. You were wobbly, but he firmly held onto your shoulders, keeping you steady, his face unreadable as he looked at you.

"Your team played better than I've ever seen before. You beat me today. You are as strong as any of them; your team would be dead if it weren't for you. I don't need you offering me a pity kill. But let this be a lesson. If I ever see you making a mockery of me in the next match, I won't hesitate. Now go find an escape before I change my mind."

And without another word, he took off, leaving you baffled about what just happened and with bitterness and resentment planted in your heart. Of course, you knew it was wrong to doubt your own team, considering you were all ultimately in the same dire situation. But for the first time since you were brought to this awful place, you felt severely unsure where your real loyalties lay.

[gatitties]

Gifts

─ Dbd x gn!teen!reader

─ Summary: you want a Christmas present and you know how to use it a lot

─ Warnings: none

8 < 9 > 10

The entity's realm was a cold place, there didn't seem to be any change of seasons beyond slight changes in temperatures, The Entity didn't care about it either, it's not like she wanted to take care of the people she had there, they were just mere puppets, so they could entertain her, killers or survivors, they were all replaceable.

How you found out you were on new year's eve was baffling to her, it only snowed a little bit in that desolate dark forest where she kept her puppets, and it's not like it hadn't snowed a few other times before, but you had that mentally detector, you just knew, you knew it was Christmas, or New Year, or just that time of year was close or had just passed, it was your sixth sense.

That, and that your fyp was completely related to that kind of thing, mystery solved, new problem found, gifts! Where were your Christmas presents? Besides all that family stuff blah blah blah… you didn't have your loved ones here, even though you could see some survivors as siblings or even parents (maybe even some killer), so most importantly were the gifts.

You were a spoiled brat, you weren't going to hand out handmade gifts or anything like that, you weren't going to be any more godly around this time, because it didn't feel like those days, so you went on with your daily shit, just making a little deal with the entity. You would stop sabotaging the games on both sides for a week.

Oh yeah, both survivors and killers realized how influential you were, if they offered you something you liked, depending on the person, you would sabotage a trial in favor of killers or survivors, basically the respective group would win 10% more chance of a victory if they managed to get you to collaborate either on one side or the other.

Could this be a little immoral? After all, you were part of the survivors but… you didn't discriminate against anyone! Or rather, you weren't going to deny the benefits they offered you, which could range from getting Meg to record a stupid video with you to Anna teaching you how to throw axes, you'd even sell yourself for some cookies, but who cares? Well, The Entity, but you didn't give a shit about her.

The thing is, you kept your promise, denying the blackmail you were offered for a whole week, it was hard not to accept your favorite dessert when The Trapper offered it to you, or even the offer to see Ace dressed as a chicken, you had to deny it for one higher weight ratio.

You were currently in a trial along with Ada Wong, Leon and Mikaela, the killer was a relatively new one, just like Ada, Albert Wesker, or aka "depression fuck me hard but I fuck it harder", yes, a your eyes this guy was some kind of uncle who was divorced like eight times and has five children scattered around the world without knowing where they are. You guessed correctly, Albert couldn't stand you one bit, but don't worry! His heart will soften with you just like the others did, otherwise this wouldn't be a fanfiction hehe.

But he still hates you, even though he wasn't focused on you in this game, having Ada and Leon here he just wanted to take his rage out on them while you and Mikaela were doing generators, more her than you, because you were an idiot for post-apocalyptic romance and Leon and Ada seemed to be having that right now

"This is better than the Turkish romance series that my mother watches…"

You grabbed a handful of popcorn from a bag that had mysteriously appeared in your hands, plot necessities!, You watched as they both ran from Wesker holding hands, your mind traveling to those kinds of scenes in other movies you remembered, only that in those movies the killer doesn't have statistically more speed than you in a general way, you saw like the permanent red light of the murderer illuminated the two figures more and more.

It was time to make use of your Christmas gift!

You grabbed one of the Orbeez pouches that you had hanging on your waist as ammunition, pouring a decent amount into the chamber of your personal pistol, smiling maniacally, you aimed with complete concentration at the back of Wesker's neck, without thinking twice about an amount of small balls impacted against the man, distracting him for a few seconds enough so that the blow he was going to launch did not reach Leon.

"Damn brat-"

He didn't even have time to turn when more balls flew towards his face, directly into his glasses causing it to fly away from his face, you gained his attention once and for all, hoping there weren't too many generators missing because you were still terrible at chasing.

"Nerf or nothing old man!"

You jumped off the balcony you were on, as he approached your position, you ran as fast as you could, blinding Wesker by shooting him right in the eye (taking his glasses off in the process all those times). You only stopped when your Orbeez ran out, you couldn't reload your Nerf gun with anything else so it didn't take long for you to be put on a hook, but it was worth it because you won that match, at least the other three came out unscathed, you were sacrificed under the angry look of the man in black.

New weapon unlocked!

Nerf gun.

New perk unlocked!

You ensure 10% victory if you are offered something of interest (works mainly with food)

[lukabitch]

i've been reading all your posts and i love the gay transguy rep you make, it makes my heart warm </3

now with the hc... how would wesker, jiwoon and danny react to their beloved survivor fighting them back during a trial out of fear? like for example stabbing them with a pocket knife or a piece of wood (im actually really invested in how many ways wesker could use uroboros with the reader 👀)

Aw I’m glad you like my writing! I haven’t gotten a request in so long😭. Absolutely loving your brain rn this is an S tier request. Thank you so much for the request Anon!

Cw: Standard Dbd violence, Danny and Ji Woon being themselves.

Wesker:

“Did you really think that would work?”

He took it extremely personally at first.

You were immediately restrained with the Uroboros. Every inch of your body was covered.

He only really noticed that you’re attempt to stab him with a piece of wood was at of fear.

His grip would definitely lessen but he will still have you pinned.

“Sorry I scared you love. Let me make it up to you.”

He could just be an ass and leave you there but he likes pampering you too much.

He isn’t the type to be physically affectionate but would help you for the rest of the trial.

Trust me though after the trial he wants you around him for an apology date.

Trickster:

He leans more into the “how dare you 😡” type.

He didn’t deserve a stab with a stick. He was just being playful.

So he has you pinned chewing you out while you sit there almost crying.

Eventually he does come to his senses and feels horrible.

“Oh I’m so sorry my little dove! I don’t know what came over me.”

If you think your leaving his side now your dead wrong.

He wants to make it up to you and the only way he really knows is physical affection.

Expect a lot of apology cuddles.

Ghostface:

“Woah there sweet thing!”

He definitely gets a kick out of it. I mean how could he not!

He has you pinned down and you just swung the tiniest pocket knife.

Expect to be teased about it until you get mad at him.

Don’t expect him to apologize for scaring you like that. He really likes it when you get scared like that.

He wants to meet up after the trial for some uh “training”.

You should fully expect him to do this all the time. Good luck!

A/n: I’m so sorry about how long this took and how short it is. I’m trying to get back into the grove of writing. If I can make this up I would be happy to. :)

[dyedcomrade]

Albert Wesker x gn☆ed♡reader

it may be caused by stress from work or school, but he won't tolerate your stress eating anymore. on multiple occasions you rummaged through the kitchen and ate some special treat he bought for himself too.

mentions how "lately you've started to turn into a little piggie. it's his little piggie and it's fine in moderation," but he knows that's exactly what you lack nowadays.

he knows with this he probably already got into your head and there won't be any more discipline needed. he hates to hurt you in any way, but it's for your own good.

encourages you to start an "aesthetic" blog, where you log what and how much you ate. also downloads a fasting timer to both of your phones so you can feel like you're in this together.

when you start to have smaller meals, drink more 0 cal beverages and sleep more to ease the hunger he praises you and offers to go out on a shopping spree.

will count your calories for you and offer vitamins and other pills so you won't suffer from malnourishment.

if you go back to your starting weight he will spend insane amounts of money to buy you a new wardrobe. of course you still can wear his clothes, but as a little motivation, you know. guilt is kind of a part of it as you dom't want his hard earned money to go to waste by gaining again.

if you feel tired and start to faint a lot that just feeds his ego more. he gets to carry his little prize around in his arms who's grown exceptionally clingy and soft.

guys, i came back to say i don't condone this, you can cause irreversible harm and actually die from this. i have been in this since i was 11 and today i got sent to the er with smthn i don't want to disclose, but was caused by my disordered eating. i wrote this fic to help myself only.

[heisenbergs-magnetic-dick]

wesker turned into a cat. now what?

implied wesker x reader towards the end

summary: yk princess and the frog? it’s that.

no use of y/n - gn!reader

a/n: writing this instead of updating my fic because my brain stopped working. anyways!!! i did not specify what color/breed cat!wesker is so feel free to use your imagination. also the lowercase is intended btw.

he doesn’t know how it happened nor why, but he has to get to the bottom of it. what the hell did he even do to get left in this pathetic state? it should be unreal that this is even happening. but it’s late and he’s the only one who hasn’t gone home yet, so what does that mean?

nap on the comfiest chair and call it a night.

he can figure this out when his mind is clouded with exhaustion. and before anyone sees him like this. he’d likely have to kill everyone in STARS or himself out of embarrassment. but he’s asleep before he can decide on a proper method. do all cats fall asleep so easily?

“aww, where’d this dude come from!? is he yours?” before his eyes are even open, wesker’s being lifted into the air and fawned over by… oh.

it’s you.

you were always early to clock in, and he didn’t entirely hate you. still, he would’ve thought you would know better than to pick up a random animal with god knows how many diseases. not that he’s like that. he’s one of the clean ones, of course.

“a cat? he must be chief irons’…” says chris, peeping over your shoulder. wesker grimaced.

no way would he ever be someone’s house pet, much less that old bastard irons’ house pet. his grimace deepened when chris took him from you. he called out his name, but it came out in a sharp hiss. well, at least he could still show he wasn’t interested in this puny form.

“I don’t think it likes you, chris. look at it. look at its ears,” you say poking at wesker’s little airplane ears. nevermind. you’re just as bad as redfield.

“nah, I’m good with all kinds of animals. just ask claire!” chris laughed confidently. he pulled the catified wesker up to his face and rubbed him against his cheek affectionately. “who’s a good kitty~? who’s a good— argh! what the fuck!? damn cat!”

one good swipe at the cheek was enough for chris to shove the mysterious tom back into your arms. you couldn’t help but laugh at your friend, watching a bit of blood trickle from the cut just under his left eye.

“I told you, chris. karma’s a bitch, you know.”

…

“he can’t belong to chief irons. he doesn’t exactly uh… like animals.”

you’re sitting at your desk, the cat in front of you. across you are jill and chris sitting at their own desks, facing you. by now you’re all stumped. none of you have any idea where this cat came from in the first place. or why he was so menacing for no reason.

“and we can rule out barry.” chris adds. “he’s allergic… so he says. then again he does prefer dogs over cats,” he murmurs. you and jill take his word for it since chris has known barry the longest. “he’s here, but he won’t set foot in the office as long as this fella’s hangin’ out.”

earlier after disinfecting chris’s scratch, the two of you discovered that the cat was a male, though it almost cost you an eye because wesker wasn’t there to be a vulnerable, pitiful creature. however, he will never admit that your belly scratches felt quite nice.

wait. what’s wrong with him? it had to have been a side effect of this whole… situation.

“hey, maybe he can be an office cat! do you think if we ask captain wesker nicely he’ll let us keep him?” you ask. at the mention of his name, albert’s ears twitch involuntarily and he gets your attention with words translated into meows. “no, silly. you’re not wesker,” you pat the creature’s head and smile.

after a moment, jill perks up with an idea. “we should name him! let’s call him captain whiskers for now, hm? it’s like homage to wesker, it’s perfect.” she suggests.

albert lets out an annoyed sigh, again coming out as a low, rumbly meow. the three of you nod in agreement, having officially decided on a name for your temporary pet. however, he notes how things could be much, much worse for him. still, he would’ve expected better from his team. at least you and jill, anyway.

while loving on a random cat carrying any number of diseases isn’t one of your better ideas, he concludes that this transformation will lose effect soon enough and that things could be much, much worse for him.

well… this wouldn’t be the end of the world, he thinks as you scratch that itch behind his pointy ears.

…

it’s the end of the world.

no work's been done.

barry's been avoiding the office all day so there's no order whatsoever.

rebecca and the other bravo team members are encouraging all the tomfoolery happening.

and worst of all, he's been everyone's muse for entertainment. there was nothing worse than this.

while all of you are goofing around, he's praying a bioweapon barges into the stars office and massacres everyone last one of these absolute hooligans.

"Wait! you can't use a marker on his fur, that's dangerous for cats!" rebecca injects as you and jill are attempting to recreate the lion king with the newly appointed 'captain whiskers'.

you turn around and see chris picking at the bandaid on his face. "hmm. hey, chris! is your scratch still bleeding? mind lending us some blood? we need something red!"

"what the fuck? hell no, are you insane?! use your own blood!"

albert, who's suspended in the air swears up and down that there'll be more blood if something doesn't stop you guys right now. a tyrant, a natural disaster— god, even. but no, he just has to be subjected to what very may well be torture. if this wasn’t proof that the universe hated him, he didn’t know what was.

“i have a sticker,” brad shuts his desk drawer and holds up a sheet of stickers— usually handed out to the children who visited the station on school trips. he peels off a red star and sticks it gently on albert’s forehead while you hold him still. relaxed as he is with you, he’s hating every second of this.

he keeps trying to remind himself that things could still get worse. it could be chris holding him right now. though it looks like he put some sort of fear in chris after the first incident. he hasn’t tried picking him up at all.

“oh yeah, just like the movie,” brad chuckles.

“good thing chief irons isn’t here. wesker too. they’d suspend us all without pay if they were seeing this.” jill says through a smile. rebecca agrees, as do you and chris.

“speaking of which… where even is wesker? did he come in today?” chris asks.

“nah, he didn’t. but he’s really fucking late though,” you giggle. “now he can stop giving us shit for not being on time. i bet he ran out of hair gel or something and that’s why he’s been a no-show.”

still imprisoned in the air, albert hisses and irritated ramblings become angry meows that reverberate across the room. he swiped at your arm, leaving a deep cut along your forearm. as deep as his claws could manage, anyway. he began to flail around, demanding to be set down as he caused a scene.

“woah— hey, dude! little shit— cut that out!” you shout as if you’re scolding a misbehaving toddler. “jesus fuck, i’ll put you down,”

you set him down, and almost immediately he darts to the corner of the room where he leaps onto a cluttered shelf before curling up nicely on a stack of files.

…

it’s been a few hours and things have calmed down. albert remained curled on the shelf, watching as everyone decided to work at their desks the rest of the day. normally he’d be doing the same, but nothing since last night has been even remotely normal.

some of the team went in and out, and barry popped in once but immediately left when he saw the cat again. when the end of the day rolls around, everyone’s getting ready to leave. rebecca goes first, giving albert a little pet before heading out. next it’s brad and jill who leave who bid the cat goodbye on their way out, leaving chris, captain whiskers and yourself.

“you’re taking that thing home? what if he kills you in your sleep?” chris asks, shuddering as you cradle the cat in your arms.

again, albert doesn’t mind. in fact, he finds himself leaning more into your hand the more you insist on massaging his head. it isn’t long before his tired eyes snap open when he realizes he’s purring. purring? no way.

this can’t be. being affectionate isn’t his thing, nor is being on the receiving end of it. he doesn’t like this… but he’s beginning to doubt that belief when he attempts to curl into you. he seriously can’t help it. was this some kind of curse? would he permanently become an actual cat by midnight like fucking cinderella? as if his mind wasn’t already a hell of a mess.

“oh really? i think he likes me. beside, he can’t sleep in the office. what if someone else finds him and kicks him out?” you ask. “either that or wesker blames us for the amount of cat fur all over the chairs and we get in trouble with irons. i’ll buy cat food on the way home, and he can use the bathroom outside like a dog if he has to. what’s the worse that’ll happen?”

that i’ll probably become some mangy cat for the rest of my life, albert wants to say, but is too busy absorbing your body heat to even comprehend anything else. you’re just so warm, and it’s making him feel unwillingly fuzzy inside. at least now he can say his inside matches his outside.

“i’m pretty sure he’s not gonna murder me. he’s a sweetheart, just look at his cute little face,” you grin, using your index finger to scratch that spot under captain whiskers’ chin.

chris shifted his gaze to the creature, who met his eyes instantaneously. a shudder trailed down his spine as he stared into the cat’s cold, calculating gaze that felt a little too familiar. he just shook his head and chose to ignore that sudden weird feeling. “yeah… that’s not the word i’d use, but if you think you’re up to it…”

“of course i am. now walk me to my car before someone actually tries to murder me.”

…

you’re lucky there was one store left open this late at night. the only 24 hour store in the area.

“wet food, dry food, all that…” you say to yourself, buckling yourself back into the driver’s seat. “and…” you trail off digging through the bag before tossing it in the backseat. “a little cat bow-tie!”

you present the navy blue tie to albert who’s sat in the passenger seat. when you hold it out, he sits up a little more. if he’s going to be a cat tonight, he’ll be damn sure to be a proper looking cat while he’s at it.

he lets you clip the collar around his neck and you give him some more scratches for sitting still. if and when he returns to normal, he’d never bring this up. ever. and he’d never admit it… but the idea of being pampered and treated like a higher being sounded quite nice. he knew enough to know that cat owners practically worshipped their companions.

“aww, look at you!” you use both hands to lightly scrunch his little face together. “hm, i’ve always wanted a cat.” you say, pulling your hands away to start your car. “you’re very handsome in that bow-tie, captain whiskers,”

when you arrive back at your apartment, you bring albert into the kitchen and place him on the counter while you find a plate to put the cat food on (you’d forgotten to purchase a feeding bowl). half of it was a bit of wet food, the other half was dry. you wanted to be sure what your new kitty preferred.

“okay,” you say, sliding the paper plate in front of the cat for him to eat. he had to be hungry after not eating a thing all day. “i’ll get you some water, too.” your back is only turned for a second before you hear something hit the floor. slowly, you turn around to see that the plate had been smacked onto the ground. “i— what the hell, dude!”

albert only blinks at you before before sitting himself on the edge of the counter. he’s not about to eat that rubbish, what the hell does he look like to you? you would feed that to a house pet? absolutely not. he’d wait for you to pull something out for yourself and eat then.

“spoiled. whatever… if i give up now chris won’t let me live it down.” you mutter. you grab up the plate and sweep up the food. after throwing it into the trash, you cross your arms and stand in front of the cat. “mmm… it’s fine though. you’re cute.”

you pet his head again, letting your hand glide down his back and scratching near his tail. he seems to like it. he does.

he’s not sure why he’s purring so much, why it feels like he vibrating from the inside out. he stretches out his front legs, spreading out his little toes as he kneads into the counter. it’s surprising how natural this is beginning to feel. is that a good thing? he doesn’t really care, because he’s absolutely lost right now.

this was beneath him.

this wasn’t him at all.

why was he feeling so… so desperate? why did he suddenly feel some kind of emotion— some kind of yearning for affection?

yet albert didn’t attempt to hiss or scratch you. at the very least, he found you more tolerable than most. or maybe it’s because you were always hanging out with chris and between the two of you… he preferred you most of the time. no offense to chris, as he was still a reliable teammate.

albert stands up and pushes his head against your hand, causing you to let out a quiet laugh. the petting increases and his purring becomes louder whether he wants it to or not. you still need to get him some water, so you pull your hand away.

“okay, okay. let me just get you something to drink so you don’t die of dehydration,” you tell him rubbing his back and kissing the top of his furry little head before turning around to find a bowl sizable for a cat.

you find one good enough and fill it halfway. you’re careful not to spill it as you turn around, but the sight you’re met with makes you forget that completely as you drop the bowl and let smash against the tile floor.

“oh, shit—“ you don’t know what to say. “uh… captain wesker…? but how—? th—the cat…?”

his hair’s messed up and his otherwise neat clothes were wrinkled and disheveled. you see that his dark shades are missing, too. what the fuck was going on? were you dreaming? were you asleep? was everything that happened today even real??

right now albert wesker was sitting on your kitchen counter in place of a stray cat— and he looked just as confused as you did. but his confusion was quickly replaced by a nonchalant relief as he uttered ‘finally’ under his breath.

“you.” it’s the first thing he says, feeling slightly delirious and a little flushed. “you’re very warm.” he awkwardly states.

the fuck?

you can feel heat creeping into your cheeks, and you’re sure you’re bright red in the face. looking anywhere except at wesker.

“…you were a cat. how were you a cat? can you turn back into a cat? i think i liked you better as captain whiskers.” you had so many questions. the biggest one being how the fuck your captain turned into a cat. you bring your eyes back to him.

albert slides off the counter, leaning back against it with crossed arms. “captain wesker isn’t good enough for you, hm?”

…and that’s how you found yourself on the couch with your captain sat on the floor in front of you, hands tangled in his hair as you watched the lion king until the late hours of the night.

a/n: cat wesker my favorite menace

[mamirhodessxox]

Leon, texting: Answer your phone

Chris, texting back: Wait a minute, I can’t find my phone

Leon: Understood

Leon, 5 minutes later: You’re a terrible person. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing me, Chris.

[weskie]

Perfectionist (Albert Wesker x afab!Reader)

18+ | this man deserves to hump the bed, oral sex (reader receiving), afab anatomy gn!reader, amab version here | Fic Directory

Particular.  Methodical. Precise.

Starved.

All words fit to describe the way Wesker handles you.  Even now, even with his face buried between your legs, he works with such intense mindfulness.  Every swipe of his tongue, each bruising nibble to your thighs or heady suckle to your swollen bud is done with the sole intention of bringing you the most pleasure possible.  

Wesker is a perfectionist, and you are the canvas upon which he will paint.  He will carve the beauty of your bliss into this world one swipe at a time, for hours on end if he must. Even in the midst of such a primal deed, he is nothing but grace– until he isn’t.  Until you catch, by sheer luck, the sight of his hips grinding down against the bed.  Just once. 

Just one little slip of his self control.

But how fucking euphoric to know you push him to such extremes.  That the mere taste of your nectar can unravel his unyielding poise is enough to undo you.  With your hands in his hair, gripping, tugging, voice squeaking and pleading, you feel the lightning strike of your release burst through you.  It tingles into your limbs, down your spine.  You arch and squirm, but he holds you in place effortlessly.

He always does.

And he doesn’t stop…  

He laps at you through all of it, fingers beckoning slick from your quivering cunt to feed his insatiable appetite.  His little sounds aren’t lost on you.  The heavy, panted breaths; the little moan here or there; that one particularly drawn out hum of delight when your thighs clamped tight around his head.  

You peer from under heavy eyelids when you feel his lips at your thighs once more, peppering soft kisses as you come down from your release.  To your surprise, his gaze is anything but soft– so unlike his actions.  You find him staring with determined, voracious eyes– red as ever, boring deep into you.  The juxtaposition ignites the strangest blendings of anticipation and adoration.  He’s promising you silently and loudly all at once: you belong to him. 

You are his down to the molecular level and beyond– to the little building blocks of each and every atom in your body. He has made his claim.

The fingers within you continue their motions and his thumb falls to your tender bud.  Wesker is silent as he works you back to madness, basking in the trembling of your legs, nuzzling against the inside of your thigh to feel and watch each and every reaction.  

You can see him faltering again.  So subtle, but you catch the way his hips move. Poor thing. His pants must feel so tight by now… 

You wish he wasn’t so damn dignified all the time.  If he’d only accept that he was allowed the simple pleasures, that he could let go of some of that pride and hump the bed like any normal man.  God, you’d fucking love to see it.  Even just that little gyration was enough to make you clench around his digits.

You can see in his eyes that he’s doing everything in his power to resist it.  

You use your grip in his hair to push him back to your aching core.  His lips curl in a smirk at your clit and you wish more than anything that you could kiss that damned look off his face.  

“Mm, god!” You mewl, knowing full well what such an exclamation means to him. Not a plea to a higher power, no… 

That title is his. 

“So, so good…” you gasp, pushing up to meet his soft tongue. Through the haze, you see it happen again. The smallest arch of his back, the lightest rocking of his hips. 

Is that what he needs? 

“That's– that's it!” 

Again. 

“Al… oh god!” 

Let him know how good he’s doing.

You resist biting back a moan, just to further test the waters. You let those little whimpers sing freely, let his name fall from your lips and your hands tug and pull at his hair. You even dig one of your heels into his back, and then you hear it. 

Nearly silent, Wesker's gasping, open-mouthed whine reverberates against your sopping folds. The sound dances to your ears, more beautiful than any melody to ever grace the world. 

Your fingers curl tighter in his locks, pressing him closer. With your back arched and feet braced, you grind up against his face. Both of his arms lock around your thighs as if, by some measure, to remind you that it’s only by his good graces that you’re allowed to use him so wantonly. 

Another weak noise quivers against your aching cunt, and you find it in yourself to fight off the tendrils of release seeping through every fiber of your being just to watch him.

“I love it!” You gasp, perhaps just a little too breathily.  “L-Love you!”

Which, of course, earns you that reaction you so desperately want.  This time your treat is two sharp rocks of his hips and the unmistakable creak of the bedframe protesting against his strength.

You’re playing such a dangerous game with him.  What if you get what you want, hm?  What if you make the man-made god come in his pants?  What then?

Surely there will be consequences for pushing him into such a position.  Perhaps he’ll make you lick him clean.  No, no… that’s hardly a punishment.  What if he threw you over his knee?

Also not quite the worst case scenario.

So you sing for him.  With every little breath, you vocalize how good it feels, how good he feels, until suddenly those subtle grinds against the bed are anything but and he’s practically growling against your heat.  

His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed, tongue fucking in and out of you while his nose presses to your clit, and he humps against the bed as though the panopticon of his pride had never been there at all to observe such a desperate act unbecoming of a god.

The sight sends you hurtling over the edge, back rising from the bed as you shiver and shake and gush more slick for his greedy tongue.  His name falls from your lips over and over like a prayer, and by the time your back hits the bed once more you hear and feel him finding his own release as he thrusts away at nothing.

The thought alone of what just happened is enough to make you see stars…

You pet through his hair affectionately, cooing praise until those piercing eyes crack open and stare lazily through the haze.  His mouth stays pressed at the base of your mound, slick glistening at the tip of his nose and the curve of his cheek– too invested in painting his masterpiece to realize he’d become part of it.

Eventually though, you manage to get him to crawl back up.  You thumb away at the mess, utterly hypnotized when he grabs your wrist and sucks your digit clean. You can see it in his eyes… You feel it in the way he kisses you.

Ever the perfectionist, Albert Wesker is far from finished with you.