#bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[bunnystalker]

feline delight (18+)

albert finds you on the streets. too cute to pass up, he takes you home against your will.

a/n; sorry this took so long! hope it was worth the wait :D

cw; half-alive dove maybe eat, cat hybrid!reader, afab!reader, owner!wesker, kidnapping, captivity, stockholm syndrome, drugging, dubcon/noncon, body betrayal, leashing + collaring, reader doesn't wear underwear, manhandling, breeding kink, wesker likes seeing you in pain sorry, no prep (please prep irl), unsafe sex (p in v, clitoral stimulation, creampie, implied multiple rounds)

tags; @4inchfae @thatgirlgames @whiskers-my-beloved @icecream596

albert never had a penchant for pets, let alone a hybrid like yourself. bringing you in may have been the best thing he'd done in years. you needed a home desperately, regardless of how much you scratched and clawed at him when he'd carried you off to his research facility without so much as an introduction. you hear him rustle around in his pockets with one hand and then, the uncapping of something. before you can look at what it is, a fine needle pierces right into the muscle of your neck. your vision fades within seconds, and you stop scratching.

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you didn't know what to expect, but waking up in a cage clean and clothed hadn't been on your list. you thought you'd surely be dead. but, there you were, with a black long sleeve shirt and skirt, thigh-highs adorning the better half of your legs, and a black leather collar around your neck. looking around, a small bell attached to your collar rings. not moments later, you hear footsteps. you look up at the man who has taken you in- tall, blonde, and very intimidating.

albert crouches before the kennel you're cowering in and looks you over as if he didn't get a good enough look when he bathed you. you hiss quietly and shrink into one of the corners furthest from him, cool metal digging into your back with each attempt to get further away.

behind his shades, his hazel eyes thoroughly examine you. the fear you give off is aromatic with a faintly sweet undertone of something more. gratefulness, perhaps. he did bathe you, clothe you, and put you in a very nice kennel of your own. your collar is a perfect fit, no less, and even though you didn't ask for any of this, it's more than you know what to do with. you've no bruises, no gashes, no injuries. how strange.

he's pondering what to say to get you to calm down. to trust him a little. maybe come out of the kennel, but that would be for later.

"hello." he places a gloved hand on the kennel's top rather carefully, so as not to startle you, and leans in just a bit. his voice is nicer than you would think. a bit nasally, sure, and the accent is cheesy, but he could read you the yellow pages and you wouldn't mind.

"…" your silence makes his jaw clench by a fraction. he'll have to fix that. for now, he'll ease you into things.

"what's your name, little one?"

"haven't got one." you rasp, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin atop them. ears flat against your head, your tail swishing- cautious and afraid, you are, and well within your rights to be.

he nods.

"we'll have to fix that, won't we?" he forces a little smile on his lips when you nod. you're not sure why you do when, two seconds ago, you'd have run off if the kennel door was opened. he's smart, he's thought this through. you're not leaving the kennel until you trust him, unbeknownst to you. your tail is ramrod stiff on the cushioned floor of your captivity, and at least he was kind enough to furnish it for you.

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it's hard to trust him even though you know it would be smart to pretend.

he only lets you out to feed you, and from the start, he'd made it clear that if you tried to run, you'd be dead. at the same time, twice a day, he opens the cage for you to crawl out of. he extends his hand to you, looping his gloved fingers around your collar and guiding you to sit by his feet. he links a leather leash through the d-ring attached to your collar and walks you through his home, the environment sterile and hardly lived in.

it's when he puts you in his lap at the dining table and force feeds you that he fills the tense silence. the food itself is good, and you wonder if under different circumstances, you'd want him to be your owner. as you eat, he talks. you are, to some extent, grateful that he feeds you, even if he is only doing the bare minimum.

"have you been good, dear?" he asks, and you nod as per usual. it's rare that you decide to talk.

"good girl." he scratches the spot behind your ear, forcing you to lean into his hand and purr. he chuckles quietly. as he pets you, his stress melts away. you're so cute. a meek, naive little thing that he loves taking care of.

as dinner finishes, he picks you up and keeps you in his arms as he cleans up. you're silent, sedated by the drug he's put in your food, and you're bodering on falling asleep in his arms. a swell of pride of warms his chest as a little snore escapes you, followed by your tail wrapping around his arm.

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day by day, bit by bit, you miss him. he keeps you company when he's not at "work" or whatever that is, he talks to you, he pets you the way you like, and it's nice when you forget about how you got here. the only thing you've come to dislike is the lack of underwear. it's not that he can't afford some, it's that he enjoys your discomfort to a worrisome degree. he likes its easy access, even if he hasn't taken advantage of it (or you) yet.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

he comes around and you find yourself less defensive, thanks to your breeding cycle. you press your face against the bars of your enclosure.

"owner," you whine as he walks past, a spark igniting in your gut. his scent is stronger than it was this morning, and you're hyperaware of the growing warmth filling your body.

"yes, dear?" he stands at his closet, his back to you as he strips himself of his work clothes.

"can i come out?" you paw at the door of your cage, ignoring the rattling noise it causes.

he doesn't respond immediately, letting you stew in your silence for a moment as he finds something more casual to wear. you don't normally ask to come out- this is progress, proof of your trust.

"in a moment. let me get dressed, darling."

it's enough for you to stop whining. your tail swishes happily and your ears perk up when he approaches the cage in grey sweatpants and a black shirt and crouches down to undo the lock to the cage. you practically jump into his arms, purring loud when he wraps his big arms around you and pulls you into his chest.

"thank you." you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his chest. his smell, like poison, makes you dizzy with desire. the warmth is growing uncomfortable, your ears pinned flat against your head.

he hums in response as he strokes your hair, a purr emanating from the depths of your chest. the heat spreads the more he touches you, pooling between your thighs. he tries not to notice when you rub them together and mewl pathetically.

"is something wrong?" his voice is a match to the flame in your gut.

it's your turn to be silent, trying to even out your breathing despite the overwhelming urge to lean in and take a nice, long whiff of the pheromones he gives off.

"darling, answer me. you know better." he says in a more stern tone, looking down his nose at you.

"… i'm in heat." you state quietly, avoiding his gaze. if you could see his eyes, you're sure they'd be wide and a little bit dark.

"are you, now?" he hoists you up in his arms as he stands, his forearms just under your ass. you're bent slightly over his shoulder. "we'll need to remedy that, won't we, pet?" he chuckles. a chill runs down your spine. just what have you gotten yourself into?

he's not a mean lover, just a little rough. he sets you on his bed and pushes you down with a cold hand to your chest as he moves on top of you. anxiety cools your blood, makes it like ice pushing through your veins.

"wh-what are you…?" he presses a finger to your lips, silencing you, and kisses your cheek.

"i've been waiting a long time for this, darling. it would be wise to avoid making me wait more." there's a threatening undertone to his voice, the burn of discomfort making itself known in your shoulders. he wedges his knee between yours, forcefully parting your thighs so he can trail his hand up them, pinching here and there just to see you flinch, and smooth two fingers along your weeping slit. a hint of a smile makes itself known as you shudder, thighs parting wider to accomodate his hand. his cold digits stop at the very top, feeling for your puffy clit, and rubs slow, tight circles around it.

you hate that it feels good, and you hate yourself for having a breeding cycle. a soft moan leaves you at his light touch, your eyes locked on the hand rubbing your clit. he presses down a little firmer, eliciting a whine from you.

"look, doesn't that feel much better?" he croons, his voice low with his lips so close to your ear. reluctantly, you nod, and that earns you the reward of his fingers rubbing you a little faster. you squirm a little, trying to get more than just surface-level pleasure.

"words."

"y-yes. that feels good, thank you." a hint of malice laces through your tone, but you're grateful for what he's giving you. your face is on fire as only the pathetic wet noises from your cunt fills the air, and you (try to) hide your face in your hands, only to be met with a sharp slap to your cunt. you flinch, the pain subsiding after he continues playing with your cunt. your hands come down from your face and instead grab the sheets.

your stomach tightens, twists into a coil that winds tighter with every pass over your hardened clit. but you can't cum like this, not when your breeding cycle is ongoing.

"owner- p-please, need more." you whine, and albert kisses your cheek as a response, denying you of what you need.

"such a needy thing. fine. you'll get what you want." he takes his hand from your pussy and to the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down rather impatiently, as well as his boxers. weeping, his cock is bright red at the tip from want (how long has he been hard for?) and large. you're worried.

he chuckles at your fear-stricken expression before grabbing your legs and pressing them against your chest.

"be a dear and hold these for me, hm?" he says, and you do as you're told. you hold your legs by the backs of your thighs, pressing them so your knees hit your chest. he strokes himself once, twice to the sight of you spread out for him, your cute cunt drooling. slick drips down your perineum, inviting him.

you watch him slot himself in place, the tip of his long cock dragging through your folds to bump your clit, making you gasp. your entrance clenches around nothing, a pitiful whine leaving you.

"greedy." he shakes his head softly as he lines himself up, and without warning, thrusts himself entirely inside you.

the stretch is worse than you imagined. you flinch away from him, but he grips your thighs and tugs you right back onto his cock. it hurts, and the burn is something you hadn't accounted for. tears prick at your lower lashline. he leans down, his frame practically engulfing yours, and kisses your cheeks.

"don't cry. struggling only makes it worse, you know." he coos, tapping your jaw. you nod softly and wrap your arms around his neck for support, sniffling as the tears trail down the sides of your face. to ease your discomfort, his hand works itself between the two of you again and thumbs at your clit, dulling some of the pain. another moment, and your tears have disappeared.

"y-you can move. m'okay." you mumble to albert's delight. he starts slow, mostly on your behalf, and hisses at just how tight you are around him as he thrusts shallowly into your aching cunt.

the moment you make a noise, he grips your thighs tighter and starts bullying his cock into you quite intensely. the tip of his cock kisses your cervix with every single harsh, downright mean, thrust. he's not doing this for you, and that becomes readily apparent. still, you can't deny that it feels good to be fucked.

albert's quiet, aside from small huffs and hisses of enjoyment. you're so wet, it's making a mess of his lower abdomen and thighs. the lewd slapping of skin on skin combined with your precious mewls and whimpers of pleasure spurr him on, his nails digging into your thighs. his cock brushes against the spongy spot inside you, making you cry out and arch your back off the bed.

"there- a-again, please!" you grab the hand not rubbing your clit and lace your fingers together as the pressure in the pit of your stomach builds and builds, leaving you dumb on your owner's cock. he complies with your request, if not to feel you cum then just to see your pretty face when you do.

he bullies that spot relentlessly, to the point where some of his hair falls in his face. gummy walls squeeze and suck him in more, a loud cry leaving you as you reach your peak. slick gushes from your already crying pussy, thoroughly coating the both of your lower halves. it's dripping from you as he continues pumping into your hole, the schlick noise amplified now.

"w-wait- wait-" you grab the hem of his shirt, but he ignores your protests.

"we're not finished until my precious girl has her cunt filled with cum." he moves your hand away, forcing yourself further into the mating press he's got you in. you can feel every single inch, and how the throb of his dick indicates his climax. a few more sloppy, mean thrusts and he's spilling his seed into you. decidedly, it's a good feeling, and you need much, much more. your heat ceases momentarily, however, as he keeps his cock inside to ensure that nothing leaks out. your tail wraps around his thigh, the end flicking happily.

"i mean filled in every sense of the word, darling." he gathers some of your slick that's coating his lower abdomen on two fingers and pushes them in your mouth, watching with delight as you kitten-lick them clean. a dark grin forms on his pale lips, his length twitching at the sight. it's then that you really give in, that you decide it's better to be this way- fucked full of his cum and brainless. a familiar heat flares in your gut once more.

#bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ #bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ #100 follower special #albert wesker #resident evil #albert wesker x reader #resident evil fanfiction #hybrid!reader #owner!albert wesker #hybrid au #albert wesker fanfic #albert wesker smut #tw dubcon #tw dubious consent #tw kidnapping #tw stockholm syndrome #tw drugging #dead dove do not eat #dead dove kind of #the dove is half alive maybe eat

[bunnystalker]

enemy's daughter (18+)

albert goes after chris's daughter.

a/n; @thatgirlgames who said i was teasing? also teehee i love old man wesker sorry guysss

cw; creep!wesker, afab!reader, major age gap (reader is 21, wesker is 61), circa 2021 aka re8, wesker lives au, unsafe sex (p in v), creampie, brief nipple play, clitoral stimulation, fingering, door sex, slight breeding kink, praise and degredation

petnames used; little dove, dearest, angel

you still haven't told your dad about your boyfriend, but honestly, you don't think he needs to know. not like he ever asks, or checks in with you, anyway. growing up, you'd rebel to get his attention, but this is your best try yet.

you're dating the albert wesker, the one your dad swore he killed back in 2009. what a stupid idea, you know, but you're head over heels for the much older man. every touch warms your chest, that feeling travelling up and warming your cheeks, too. it's a different kind of high, getting the attention of an older, dangerous man that your father absolutely despises. in some weird way, being with an older guy makes you feel safe. when albert wraps his arms around you, his toned forearms warm on your stomach even through your shirt, you feel… good. you don't think about what's troubling you as much. you feel light, and like you can relax because he's got you.

he makes you go dumb in many ways. his favorite way is take you by the waist and press a kiss to your forehead, muttering about "what a good girl" you are. the way your eyes gloss over and your cheeks flush pink makes his cock hard in his leather pants. every time you give him that look, it takes all of him to keep from fucking you wherever you may be. you knew you were in for it the first time he said it for you, because he's never let you live it down since.

you just hope your dad doesn't come home to see wesker when his restraint fails. like now.

albert hasn't bothered to undress you properly as he presses you against your front door, your tits squished against the fiberglass composite exterior with your back arched, his hips flush with your own as he rips your tights open by the gusset. fleetingly, you mourn the loss of another pair of tights.

"baby," you whine as he grips your hips with one hand, the other coasting around to and down your tummy to cup your cunt through your sinfully sheer underwear. you're wet, but what's new? you've been wet since you greeted him at the door, hours prior, and now as he's about to leave. of course, he can't leave you without giving you some of his cum.

"i know, dearest, i know." he murmurs, his hard-on throbbing in the confines of his pants. they're becoming uncomfortable, his precum forming a wet patch in his boxers. he needs you now.

the hand on your hip moves, slipping under your shirt and beneath the cup of your bra to lightly pinch your nipple, eliciting a soft moan from you as you press your cheek against the door. your knees are hardly supporting you at this point. his hand cupping your cunt moves the gusset of your panties aside, two long and cold fingers moving between your wet folds, pushing into your weeping cunt with ease. gummy walls flutter and clench, a breathy noise leaving you. the heel of his hand bumps against your clit with every thrust of his fingers, the friction bringing you ever closer to your impending orgasm.

you don't really have time to be doing this, though. your father is due home in ten minutes.

just as you get close, your cunt sucking in his fingers with every welcome thrust, he rids you of them and instead forces them in your mouth, his other hand leaving your body to undo his belt and nearly tear his fly open. he skips taking them off, favoring pushing them down just enough for his cock to be let free. it's leaking something fierce, even as he drags the fat head through your folds as a warning before sheathing himself fully inside you.

the stretch brings about an unwelcome burn that melts into pleasure within seconds as he starts thrusting with the desperation of a dying man. as much as he'd love to surprise your dad with you impaled and drooling on his cock, on edge and ready to cum, he'll save that for another day. he's too preoccupied with how your cunt sucks him in, how you whine and dig your nails into the tough material of the front door, the brass doorknob digging uncomfortably into your thigh. if he could keep you this dumb, this sedated from his cock forever, he would.

you're all but drooling, every thrust forcing a sinful sound from the depths of your throat. the lewd squelching noise you two make together only adds to the intensity, how he's so rough with you. his whispers in your ear, praise mixed with filth, make you squeeze him extra nice.

"such a sweet girl, angel. my dumb little dove, already drooling just from my cock," he croons in your ear, hardly breaking a sweat as you draw nearer to your climax. you nod, fucked out and dizzy.

"mhm- m'gonna c-cum- fuck-" you scratch at the door just as the pad of his middle finger circles your puffy clit, his free hand nearly crushing the bones in your hips. he groans quietly, just barely audible but with the close proximity it's hard to miss.

you cum with a final cry of his name, your kneels threatening to buckle below you. he bites your pulse point, stifling the moan he lets loose as the coil in his own stomach tightens. he's not going to pull out, either. he never does, in hopes of knocking you up, and he knows you're ovulating. you made the mistake of telling him so just a few days ago and he hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

you're whining that it's too much, that your dad is almost home and that you two need to stop really soon. he cums not a moment later, not stopping as he fully intends on fucking his spend as deep as possible into you. his cock pokes your cervix and you yelp, briefly realizing that nobody's ever done that to you before.

just as quickly, he's tucking himself into his pants and hoisting you up in his arms to place you on the couch. he pecks your lips before rushing out the door with a brief "goodbye", leaving you stuffed with his cum and dizzy in the middle of your living room. you hear his car start and peel out of the driveway, just as your dad texts you that he's almost home. you let your eyes flutter shut as you turn on your side, falling asleep shortly after.

when you wake up, you've got a blanket over your lower half and your dad's sitting in his recliner, glass of bourbon in hand and a cigarette in the other. he doesn't need to tell you that he knows what happened.

#bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ #bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ #albert wesker #resident evil #albert wesker x reader #resident evil fanfiction #albert wesker smut #albert wesker fanfic #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

[bunnystalker]

gentle (18+)

hello! i was kind of stumbling through this so im worried it might not be good! like always, criticism is welcome ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚

cw; dubcon due to non-verbal consent, re1 wesker, marriage/long term relationship implied, domestic fluff, tooth-rotting fluff not gonna lie, afab reader, soft dom wesker, clitoral stimulation, he's obsessed with you, praise (reader receiving), temperature difference cus he's a human icicle, creampie (x1), a bit of a breeding kink, very lovey and soft wesker

petnames (reader received); dearest, my dove, darling, dearheart, little dove, good girl, sweet thing, greedy girl

albert's gentle with you because he still has his humanity intact. sure, he's not completely sane either, but he doesn't want to drive you away. without uroboros or even the prototype virus, he's strong, and intimidating. his military training has hardened him, and he's tired of being stern and strict at both jobs.

to initiate, he'll typically come to you while you're both winding down for the night. maybe you're patting your face dry after washing it and he comes in the bathroom to hold you from behind. you set the towel aside and acknowledge his presence with a simple "hello, my love," and a small smile. your hands come up to

"hi, dearest," he murmurs, his hand coasting along your abdomen and up to settle on your sternum, pressing you back against his chest so you're flush.

"you're gorgeous," he says between kisses down your neck, his voice a little lower. despite his cold hands, he never fails to make you feel warm in your gut, the subtle purr of arousal making your blood flow south. you're blushing something fierce, making eye contact with him through the mirror. he does tower over you some. you can feel his erection against the small of your back, your own arousal heightening. the hand on his sternum moves to cup your breast, thumbing over your nipple so he can watch how your breathing changes, how your heart beats faster and your face flushes red.

he's so in love with you it almost hurts. he loves the way you press your ass back against him, grinding as an attempt to soothe the ache in your cunt. the ache that only he could ever cause, no less, in the few years you've been together. his other hand finds its way into your underwear, fingers cold but deft as he dips them between your wettened folds to gather the sticky fluid and circle your pulsing clit. you become putty in his arms, your hands practically useless at your sides. your knees turn to jelly, little whines of satisfaction leaving you.

"so, so gorgeous." he croons, the hand cupping your breast simply kneading as he rubs your clit with two cold fingers. he's a sucker for praising you, truthfully, and he loves the way you become red in the face. your face is hot, his dull blue eyes boring holes in your own. it's as though the eye contact makes him more excited, even if the look in his eyes is bone-chilling. his breath is warm against your neck, words of praise and love leaving his pale lips. he presses down a bit more firmly on your clit, his fingers moving quicker to bring you closer to your release. your moans grow louder, your legs threatening to crumble beneath you.

when you do cum, he talks you through it. your hands scramble to grab the edge of the bathroom countertop, your knees buckling under you from the force of your orgasm. your vision is starry at the peak

"i'm here, my dove. lean on me, darling. that's it. you did so well for me, didn't you? yes, you did. my wonderful girl." he murmurs, retracting his hand from your underwear as he peppers kisses to your cheek as you recover. he licks his fingers clean of your cum and strokes your hair with his clean hand, waiting for you to be able to stand again. when you're steady again you tap his arm and he lets you go.

he washes his hands and starts his own nightly routine. you perch yourself on the bathroom countertop and watch him, your head and heart muddled with love and a bit of residual pleasure. every now and then his eyes wander over to you, the subtlest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth. you'll run a hand through his hair as he rubs his moisturizer in (he takes care of his skin you can't tell me otherwise), your nails gently scratching the base of his head.

"your hair is getting long." you murmur, playing with the whispy ends.

"too long, dear?" suddenly, he's a bit self-conscious. what if his hair is too long and you decide you hate it? maybe you'll decide that one day, you don't like him anymore. maybe you already have? nervous and trying to hide it, his gaze returns to his own face.

"no, not too long. you could definitely pull off longer hair if you wanted to give it a try." you let your hand drop into your lap and he nods, feeling conflicted and honestly very silly. regardless, he leans over and pecks your lips. his timidity is rare, exceedingly so for a man like him, and it only ever pops up around you. like you're the only one who can get in his head, make him squirm. he may not admit it, but you are.

"good to know. thank you, darling." he takes your hand and helps you off of the bathroom counter, that same hand slipping to the small of your back as the two of you walk to bed. you have other plans.

you make that apparent when you sit at the edge of your king-sized mattress, black sheets crinkling slightly, and look up at him. it's clear that you want something. he raises an eyebrow at you.

"what's this, dear?" he cups your jaw with one hand and strokes your hair with the other. icy eyes roam your own for an answer, but to no avail.

"you didn't get yours earlier." you push his hands away and for a moment he looks offended. his expression falters when you grab his hips and kiss his lower abdomen, just above the waistband of his boxers. he sputters, taking a step back when you reach for his boxers, his hands raising in what seems like defense..

"darling, that's not necessary." he insists, but the way you're looking at him makes his blood roar in his ears, his heart thump faster in his chest. you grab his hands instead and pull him close again. you move back on the bed and pull him with you, gentle like you're guiding him.

hesitant, he crawls on top of you.

"are you sure?" he asks, eyes roaming over you in your cute your hands cup his cheeks, your gaze warm as it roams his face. his cheeks are tinted pink, one of his hands runs over your stomach and along your waist. he hooks his thumb under your silk sleep shirt and slowly pulls it up past your chest. he glances up at you, then at your tits as he cups them. he tweaks one nipple as he ducks his head down to lap and suckle at the other.

your whines, spilling from you so easily, are his favorite noise to draw from you. a dull throb in your clit draws your attention, the familiar ache in your pussy returning with a vengeance and you attempt to clench your thighs together in hopes to mute it. you'd like to hurry, but albert hates being rushed. you know that more than anyone, that he'll take his time with you like you were a painting and absorb every detail.

you tug on his hair, adamant and desperate to get him inside of you to soothe the ache that's only worsening the longer you're without something to fill you. he pulls back upon your request

"al, darling, please." he kisses you in the gentle way he always does, the hand on your waist cupping your cheek. when he breaks away, he looks conflicted. he does want to make you happy- that's all he ever wants to do for you- but he's tempted to drag this out for as long as possible.

"alright, dear. in a moment, just be patient. i know you can." he pecks your lips again, quick and sweet and undeniably hungry. his cock is painfully hard in the thin confines of his boxers, aching to be inside you the way you need him to be.

"lift your hips, little dove." he's met with obedience and he works your pajama bottoms off, a hungry smile on his lips the moment he sees the wet spot on the gusset of your panties. his cock twitches at the sight, aches to feel those walls clench and flutter around him. he slides your panties down to your ankles, then pulls his boxers off. he hooks your legs around his waist, pulling you flush with him

"honey," you whine softly as he leans down to kiss you, simultaneously teasing your slickened cunt with the tip of his cock, a soft grunt escaping him. slowly, he presses the tip in your tight, warm entrance. you whine against his lips as he moans against yours, your weeping pussy sucking him in so nicely.

"so perfect. your cunt was made for me." he murmurs when he breaks the kiss, fully hilted inside you. with how big he is, his cock kisses the tip of your cervix and stretches you out thoroughly. you flutter around him at the praise, even more when he starts thrusting with a gentle desperation only you draw out of him. your head spins, feeling so full and yet craving more at the same time.

the heat on your cheeks matches his own. he's always been such a blushy mess when it comes to missionary, but can you blame him? the expression you make with your eyes half-lidded, lips parted in pleasure, your brows furrowed. his hands find your waist, his cold fingers gripping you tight. the velvet walls of your cunt do things to his head, makes all reasoning go out the window as he pumps his cock into you faster and faster, sacrificing all need to be gentle. though surprised at this, you love it. a similar fog fills your head and your hands move to his back, your nails digging into his skin hard when he wraps an arm around your waist, angling your hips differently.

"that's it, take it all like the good girl you are." he croons, his eyes locked on your face as he angles his hips to brush his cock against that spongy spot amongst velvet walls. you visbly light up with pleasure when he does, your nails breaking the skin of his back by mistake. you know he's only going slow to drag this out, but with the way he's bullying your cunt, you don't know how long you're going to last. each thrust fogs your mind more until you're a moaning, whimpering mess for him. you tighten around him, trying to take more despite him being balls deep already.

"such a greedy girl, my sweet thing… you're going to cum, aren't you?" you nod meekly, biting your bottom lip harder when he thumbs your clit, nearly drawing blood.

"words, dearest. use your words for me." he slows his thumb down to gentle strokes, his cold skin against yours making you hypervigilant of his touch.

"m'gonna cum- i-is that okay? can i?" you struggle to get your words out, interrupted by small gasps of your own as he pistons his cock into the spongy bundle of nerves within you.

he's smiling to himself, enjoying how eager and sweet you are, despite the circumstances. he's close himself, only disguising it until you get yours.

"go on, sweet girl, cum for me." he circles your clit faster once more, causing you to fall apart at the seams. your orgasm is intense, your hips spasming in the desperate chase for more of the white-hot ecstasy running through your blood. you feel hot at your peak, a cry of his name leaving your irritated and puffy lips, before you relax with the comedown. being the good lover he is, he coaxes you through it with soft words and gentle touches.

"that's it, pretty girl. my perfect girl. i love you."

"i love you too." you manage to say despite your hazy state, a weak smile on your pretty lips.

he wraps your legs around his waist as he cages you in with his arms on either side of your head, kissing you slowly so you're not overwhelmed. you're a mess of nothing but your own slick, his cock buried deep inside you. the lower half of his abdomen is drenched with your cum, dripping down his pelvis and thighs. your legs are unsteady and wobbly, shaking in their place.

"al," you break the kiss. the restraint he's showing is visible on his face, especially in the way he's furrowing his eyebrows, "keep going if you need to. i can take it, i promise." he nods, though worried about hurting you somehow. he likes this position much more- he's already close as is, and all he can think about is filling your womb with his kids.

he doesn't speak as he starts thrusting into you again, quick and precise yet surprisingly harsh movements into your overly sensitive cunt. and yet you're still so wet for him, your cunt weeping for more. you can hardly think, let alone tell him how good you feel.

he kisses you hard, his cum filling you up so nicely, you'll be thinking about it for days. he groans against your lips, licking into your mouth. the familiar taste of tobacco from his tongue, his seed inside you, the remnants of his colonge flooding your senses, all overwhelming you. your heart flutters. he breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours as he recovers.

"are you okay, dearheart?" he brings a hand up to fix your shirt and kisses the corners of your lips. tired, yet content, you nod softly and kiss him again. he hums quietly and cups your cheek, his mind still a touch fuzzy. the blush from his cheeks has yet to fade, and likely won't for another hour.

one hand on your waist squeezes you and he pulls back from the kiss to pull out of you, then get off the bed. he grabs you a fresh pair of underwear and pajama pants for himself. he steps into the pants while you sit up and take the underwear from him to put on.

"you know i love you, right?" you say as the two of you lie down, his strong hands pulling you flush against his chest with your back facing him.

"i know, dove. i love you just as much." he wraps an arm around your waist, getting comfortable as the big spoon. tired, he lets his eyes flutter shut. you pull the sheets up and over the two of you, hiking them up to your waist, then follow suit in closing your eyes,

#bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ #albert wesker fluff #albert wesker fanfic #albert wesker smut #albert wesker x reader #bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ #resident evil i love youu #resident evil smut #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #albert wesker #afab reader

[bunnystalker]

father's friend (18+)

you are just what he doesn't need.

cw; afab reader, reader in a skirt, dad's friend wesker, major age gap (14-17 years), fingering, degradation, implied multiple orgasms, reader is a little naive and wesker eats that up, predatory almost???, inappropriate use of mirrors, daddy kink if you squint (get a microscope)

terms of endearment; dear (reader receives)

a/n; i don't know how this became what it did bc this was supposed to be fluff. if you'd like the fluff version, i'm more than happy to provide that, just let me know!

when albert wesker pictured his life, he saw greatness. he'd dreamt of sanitizing the world with uroboros, his pet project of years would finally come to fruition. the world would be the perfect place, full of the superior and cleansed of the lesser. his dreams realized.

what he didn't anticipate, however, was you.

you, who came into his life when he was 38 years old, fresh off the high of the mansion incident. mostly human, partially not. he'd changed his clothes- only black attire from that point forward- and kept a low profile because he should be dead, but he's not. with no body to find, they gave up on the search only months later. he'd slid under the radar with a new identity and relocated across the country to some small town on the east coast.

at the time, you were in your early twenties. maybe 24, 21 at the youngest. you were youthful and so sweet, painfully naive and lacking experience of life's true cruelties. without scars that held stories to be told, or nightmares that took hold of you in the night.

unmarked. untainted. flawless. you.

and you hadn't meant to draw his attention. you, the child of his best friend. oh, you were tempting. how whenever he was over, you'd greet him with a little "hi mr. wesker" despite him telling you over and over to call him albert.

he hung around your father because he was an operative of umbrella as well, and albert needed connections. you were quick to teach about certain things, your doe eyes drawn to him whenever he merely breathed. like you were waiting for something.

naturally, you'd maintained a healthy distance for a long time. the routine you two had whenever he'd stop by- almost daily- the greeting, the glances, the lingering, subtle touches on each other's arms, shoulders, backs, wherever you had access to that wouldn't draw immediate attention.

your father never noticed. not as he fell asleep on the couch one night. not when albert ensured the roofie he'd given your father had settled, then snuck up into your room after.

not now, as he has you on his lap, your legs spread wide, your skirt lifted up so he can rub your clit. he forces you to watch in the mirror, your back pressed against his chest, as he pushes your panties aside and sinks two long fingers inside of you. forces you to watch, his other hand gripping your jaw to keep your head still.

"you're a whore," he murmurs in your ear, "such a filthy fucking whore. you think you can tease me and get away with it, hm?"

"n-no, i'm sorry." you whimper, his fingers curling inside your weeping entrance. you're making a mess of yourself and his hand.

"mm, i don't think you are, dear. you're so wet, i bet you've been thinking about this for a while now, right? imagining daddy's friend splitting you open, ruining your perfect cunt." you should be embarrassed that he's got you down to a science, but his words make you squeeze around his fingers. you nod, much to his satisfaction, and he chuckles quietly. it reverberates in his chest and you relish the way it feels, wondering if you'll ever get to be more than just his secret.

"you're never going to get this from anyone else, you know that, don't you? nobody else will ever make you feel the way i feel." you're dumb from just his fingers, but you can't help that they're just what you wanted. the pads of his index and middle finger brush the spongy spot on your walls, making you cry out and writhe in his arms. your thighs try to squeeze shut but he lets go of your face to force them back open.

"t-too much-"

"shut up and take it. this is what you wanted, so why the hell are you complaining you ungrateful brat?" he hisses, focusing on that spot. with the way the heel of his hand is palming your clit, his fingers buried so deep inside you, you're cumming within moments. you're loud even if you don't mean to be, especially as he continues finger-fucking you after your orgasm.

"please- no more, i-i can't-" you whine, trying your hardest to move away from him, but he's got you tight in his grasp.

"you can, and you will. you don't have a choice. you'll cum as much as i want you to." he kisses your temple, the first sign of mercy he's shown you all night, and then slips a third finger in. you're weak to him, the same way he's weak to you.

#bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ #bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ #resident evil #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #resident evil fanfiction #writing #albert wesker i love youuuu #albert wesker smut #albert wesker fanfic #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

[bunnystalker]

C-Cock warming with Wesker thoughts?

👉👈

listen, i understand the appeal of cockwarming but as someone with a pussy, that would throw off your ph balance, and his, so fast.

anyway, here's this.

cw; cockwarming, gn!reader, reader's genitalia is nondescript, implied dom/sub dynamic, implied age gap (reader is early twenties, wesker is late forties), takes place before re5, petnames used (little dove), orgasm denial, creampie

you don't know how long you've been sitting on your boyfriend's lap with his cock buried inside you. he pays you no mind as he works on writing his lab report, one arm lazily wrapped around your waist. he's hardly said anything in the past twenty minutes and you're starting to get restless, wanting him to move or give you *something.*

"al-"

"hush, little dove. you'll get what you want in due time," he mutters, light annoyance in his voice.

his breath hitches in his throat when your walls squeeze him, the grip on his pen faltering for just a split second.

"please?" you whine quietly, shifting your hips a little.

his thinned patience snaps. a moan escapes you as starts bucking his hips up into your needy hole with impressive force and speed.

"such a needy little thing. you can't wait just a few fucking minutes for me to finish my goddamned report? " he growls into your ear, his grip on your hips hard enough to bruise. his pace is breakneck, his cock hitting so deep inside you, he's in your guts.

"fuck- s-sorry, m'sorry!" you can hardly keep yourself upright, your thighs forcefully parted as he leans you forward, right over his desk. you grasp at the edge of it, your nails digging into the polished wood surface.

"like hell you are." he holds you in place as he fucks into you with a mean vigor, his stamina unmatched due to his genetic mutations. you know he's getting closer because his thrusts become frantic. it's not long before you're forced to take his cum, the white-hot liquid filling you up comfortably so. you expect him to keep going, to make you cum, too, but he leans you back against his chest instead and resumes working on his lab report. you're frustrated, his cock keeping his spend in you, but if you complain, you'll only get denied again.

#bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ #albert wesker #bunny's replies 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ #resident evil #albert wesker x reader #resident evil fanfiction #writing #albert wesker smut

[bunnystalker]

everything is blue

you're vergil's "something blue."

cw; lingerie mention, established relationship, canon compliant, vergil is a cat, somewhat needy vergil, this is not a full fic just something i thought of earlier, powder blue is such a good color, sex mentioned but not described, i love 40 year olds (vergil is 43)

a/n; dear god the dmc brain rot has started... fear not! i will still be a resident evil account, just with some... extras here and there. btw i finished 3 & 1 in two days... tryhard who? i might make a dante version of this too! this will officially be my vergil divider i think!

blue. that's what reminds you of vergil- blue. deep, navy blue. sometimes a shade of indigo. if you asked him, he'd tell you that associating someone with a color is odd and something he would never do. it's silly, he'd insist, and not something he really cares for.

or so he says.

unbeknownst to you, he's decided that you are light blue. specifically powder blue, not quite baby blue, and not exactly periwinkle- powder blue.

whenever he buys you something, it's always that exact shade. you don't notice until lady points it out to you one day, after you've told her about something vergil has, once again, bought for you (an irresponsible spender, it seems, but he'd give the world for you.)

"that sounds cute," she says, leaning into the old couch cushions behind her back. the entire damned piece of furniture is old, so it's no surprise that she inadvertently sinks into your side.

"yeah, it is." you nod, leaning into her, too.

"what color?"

"blue. like a baby blue, sort of." you say and she hums.

"weird," she comments.

"why is that weird?"

"he always buys you blue stuff. like he's claiming you with a color or something." she shrugs, which moves your shoulder, too.

"huh…" everything vergil has ever gotten you- lingerie, skirts, shirts, little charms for your lanyard, the lanyard itself, bracelets with aquamarine, even some earrings with the same stone. when you ask him what color to get on your nails, he always says the same color- powder blue. you wonder if it's his way of staking a claim. he's never been outright possessive, never told you to your face that you belong to him or that you're his in every single way, inside and out.

truthfully, you'd never thought he was wired that way. maybe it's a demon thing, and part of you wants to assume it is, but it's not like you're dumb. you've dated other men before vergil, much to his dismay, and you know how they can be. maybe, when indulging in sins of the flesh, he's not so different. his touches are never less than gentle, especially when it came to the early stages of your relationship. they were very chaste, then, never below the belt until you told him you were ready. he was gentle, then, too.

he's extra affectionate when you're actually wearing the blue things he gave you- maybe one of the skirts he bought you, or the thigh-highs he nervously gave you to wear, too. even the jewelry has him touchy. like a cat, he'd press himself against your side, one hand on your thigh, thumbing the hem of your skirt somewhat obsessively as you pay attention to your phone instead of him, still holding his arm. his stormy grey eyes would be a little more blue, his pupils dilated some. pouty lips would find your cheek, your temple, your hair, anything to get you to pay attention to him without him needing to ask. maybe your theory was right.

not to mention the one day you wore red to work, he looked like somebody stomped on his heart. to anyone else, the crease between his brows was the same, the pout his lips were always in didn't change, but to you, he was sulking majorly. realistically, he knew he didn't control you, but some darker, inner parts

it's not his fault. ever since you two began dating, he'd had this obsession with seeing you decked out in his color, even though he knew it was silly.

#dmc vergil #devil may cry #devil may cry vergil #vergil devil may cry #vergil dmc #drooling over vergil dmc #dmc brain rot #bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ #bunny's blurbs✧˖ ° #dmc fanfiction #vergil x reader #vergil sparda #vergil sparda x reader

[bunnystalker]

boyfriend's dad wesker hcs (18+)

you're sweet and kind, and your boyfriend's dad is... not.

a/n; reader is in their 20's/in college with wesker's kid, jake. wesker is a good dad just not here though! reader is dating jake muller-wesker. albert is a major perv here guys sorry. based on re5 wesker -`♡´-

cw; afab!reader, dom!wesker, lowkey size kink, nonconsensual recording, wesker being a creep, major age gap (12+ years), mentions of smoking and drinking, stalking, breadcrumbing as a manipulation tactic, eventual sex (clit stimulation, fingering, p in v, unsafe sex, cumplay, creampie), dubcon, cheating, grooming (technically), praise and degradation, slight daddy kink (if u squint),

petnames (reader received); dear, darling, sweet girl, dolly

-`♡´- bfd!wesker, who has never cared for anyone younger than him, let alone someone as young as his son.

-`♡´- bfd!wesker, who takes interest in you after his darling son, Jake, brings you home in a hurry to get to bed. he's working in the living room, waiting for his son to come home.

he's not surprised to see his son rush through the front door, but he is, however, surprised to see he brought someone home. he moves his laptop from his lap to stand up and introduce himself the moment he notices you're there. the look on your face is one he's seen before- desire and the unmistakable reddened scleras from smoking weed, all directed at his dopehead son.

"jacob-"

"later, dad." jake rushes you to the basement, where his room is, and you're gone in an instant. it's clear you're just as high as your little boyfriend, gone off a blunt and some vodka. for some reason, that irks him.

he walks over to jacob's door and leans against it, ready to knock with his knuckles just an inch from the door when he hears something come from you. a moan, then a hushed whisper from jacob telling you to be quiet, and another, softer moan from you.

so maybe his face goes red and he sits there for a moment, focused on the way you sound and how loud you get when you cum. he's just as quiet as he was when he approached his son's room while walking away, forgoing his work and retreating upstairs to fist his half-hard cock.

-`♡´- bfd!wesker, who has a knowing look on his face the next morning, up early as hell just to catch you sneaking out of the house because your dumb boyfriend's still asleep. who's sitting on the couch and sees you looking a little rough, hickies covering your neck and your clothes messed up from your rush to get them on. you're a hungover wreck.

"good morning," his voice startles you, of course it does. you hadn't even noticed him, a residual high from smoking so much weed the night prior making your mind foggy. instead of running, like you want to, you approach the couch, your nerves aflame. why does he look so smug?

"mr. wesker, i-i'm so sorry about last night, it was so rude of me to not introduce myself…" you're blushing. you're intimidated by him and he loves that. he gives you a charming smile and reassures you that it's alright, dear, just hurry to class. he sends you on your way with a pat on your lower back.

-`♡´- bfd!wesker, who asks his son about you later. jake tells him all about you, just as wesker was hoping. while jake is in class, he installs cameras in the house- invisible to the naked eye, of course. he'd hate for you to feel surveillanced and scare you off.

-`♡´- bfd!wesker, who tells jake he's working late tonight as an excuse to sit in the parking lot of an abandoned building and watch the cameras from his phone. he pays special attention to the one he angled at the couch as he palms himself to the video feed of you, so cutely sitting there and talking with his son. he doesn't even have to try to spend time alone with you because you're always at his place, anyway.

-`♡´- bfd!wesker, who adores it when you blush from something he said or did, who wants you all to himself, his son be damned. he compliments your outfits, your hair, your perfume (how can he smell that when you're three feet away?) when your boyfriend isn't around. he'll brush a hand through your hair and murmur something about how soft it is, leaving you red in the face when your boyfriend comes back.

-`♡´- bfd!wesker, who knows it's wrong to want you and doesn't care. he loves the way you give your full attention to him when he's talking, how you pretend that you don't see the looks he gives you, or that you're not affected by the subtle touches and unspoken promises of more. a hand on the small of your back as he passes you, one on the back of your neck as he gives you a tour of the home- something his son neglected to do- his gaze lingering too long on the curve of your throat and waist, his imagination running wild.

-`♡´- bfd!wesker, who finds a pair of your panties in the wash, presumably forgotten, and takes them for himself. uses them to get off, his tongue on the gusset as he imagines your taste and how you'd clench around him when you cum.

-`♡´- bfd!wesker, who tells you that his son isn't good enough for you. who plants seeds of doubt in your head and waters them religiously. you're too oblivious to notice what he's doing, because mr. wesker is so nice, he would never do that to your relationship, right? who tells you that an older man would treat you right, much better than his stupid son.

-`♡´- bfd!wesker, who waits for you to get into a fight with his son about something so he can comfort you after his son storms out of the house, leaving you crying in his bedroom. you don't know what to do, don't know who to turn to, and like an angel, he's there for you. he pulls you into his lap and lets you cry it out, rubbing your back the whole time and whispering sweet nothings in his ear that leave you confused and in need of more comfort, because why does your boyfriend's dad make you feel better than your boyfriend ever has?

-`♡´- bfd!wesker, who loves the way you wrap your arms around his neck, and in your vulnerability, trust him with your life. you're putty in his strong arms, his hold secure enough to make you feel safe. he knows you don't mind when one of his hands moves to your thigh, kneading softly to get your blood running south. he feels your face heat up, your hips shifting slightly to mute the gentle throb of your clit. as if you could get away with such a subtle thing like trying to hide your arousal.

-`♡´- bfd!wesker, who gently forces your thighs to part to accompany his hand. who's been anticipating this, the way you moan into his neck as he thumbs your clit through your panties. how you press into his hand when he slips two fingers in after moving your panties to the side. the way your hands grab at his shirt, your fists clenched around the fabric like you'd die if you let go of him.

"that's my good girl, taking my fingers so well. i know, i know, this is just what you needed, right darling? your legs spread so nice for your boyfriend's daddy." he croons, his lips just centimeters from your ear. the fanning of his breath against your neck, his long fingers in your cunt and the noises they draw out of you- utterly sinful. you know it's wrong, but just thinking about your boyfriend coming home to this sight has your cunt squeezing and aching for more. he knows you want it just as bad as he does, the way you're gripping his fingers like they're his cock. you're close already and he wonders just how long it's been since you've been fucked properly.

-`♡´- bfd!wesker, who kisses you to keep you from whining when he pulls his fingers out of you to undo his belt and pull his cock out from its cloth confines. who hisses slightly when you stroke him, slightly inexperienced but for him, you're willing to learn. who's so encouraging, holding your hips as you pierce yourself on his cock with little pushback. whose tip nails your cervix and he's not even fully inside. who's fine with that because as much as he wants this, he doesn't want to hurt you. who guides your hips in the way he knows you enjoy, because he's watched your boyfriend move you the same way.

"just like that, dolly. your cunt feels perfect, gotta ruin it for everyone else, don't i? mold it to my cock so you can't cum any other way. you'd like that, right sweet girl?" his nails dig into the meat of your hips, bouncing you at a steady pace. you nod dumbly, the pleasure melting your brain into nothingness. you could get addicted.

-`♡´- bfd!wesker, who doesn't pull out to cum. he keeps you brainless on his dick, forcing an orgasm out of you as he rubs that spongy spot inside of you. he grins when you moan his name as the pleasure comes crashing through you, your nails digging into his shoulders. he loves that sound.

"t-too much- fuck- please-" you whine, burying your face in his shoulder as he holds your hips steady, thrusting up into you with an unforseen vigor. he's not stopping until you're full of his cum, maybe even crying a little.

"quiet, darling. i'm only doing what's best for you." he hisses, his hips stuttering with stifled groan. you moan in unison, his thick, sticky seed spilling in you, but he doesn't stop fucking you.

-`♡´- bfd!wesker who fucks his load so deep inside of you, you're worried it might actually take. who strokes your hair as you remain on his lap, recovering when he's satisfied with himself.

"you're not going to tell my son about this, are you darling?" he runs his fingers through your hair until you're alright to sit up.

"no."

"good girl. come here." he kisses you again, sweeter this time, but you get the feeling that he's never going to let you go.

-`♡´- bfd!wesker, who refuses to let you out of his grasp, even if you break up with jake. you're not escaping him that easily.

#bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ #resident evil #bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #resident evil fanfiction #writing #albert wesker smut #albert wesker headcanons #dark content #afab reader #boyfriends dad #boyfriends dad wesker #depraved #dilf lover

[bunnystalker]

albert wesker hcs pt.2 (re1-re5) (18+)

a/n; overall headcanons for whiskers himself! both nsfw and sfw, mostly nsfw. these are just my opinions and if they're ooc, i'm sorry. i'd like to say that im so down bad it's horrible and laughable. probably my longest post yet my computer is killing itself.

cw; nsfw content (i.e. kink talk, genitalia discussions and descriptions, mentions of dubcon and CNC, collaring mentions, cockwarming, impact play, light bondage, bdsm themes, dom/sub relationship)

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ hex codes ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

applies to all variants

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - overall skintone is #F6E5DE

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - his eyes are #adcfe6

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - his cock starts with #f6e5de, fades to #F1D8CD. tip is #ffc8b5.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - his hair (pubes included) is #F0E2B6

₊˚⊹♡size and habits ₊˚⊹♡

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - he's 8" in length, definitely can't close your fingers around it. thick vein on the underside.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - 6'2 in height, more lean than muscular. towers over most.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - definitely well groomed. not very hairy in general, thus he doesn't have very much hair to groom. cuts his hair (in the bathroom by himself mind you) every month.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - re1 eats as needed, the healthy 3 times a day, and plenty of water to stay on top of his game. re5 doesn't have the need to eat or drink. he's no longer 100% human and his appetite diminished within months of taking doses of Uroboros.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - reads a lot when he's not working. non-fiction, science-based literature to expand his knowledge. his wits came naturally, sure, but that doesn't mean he can't maintain them. at home, when he's truly by himself, he doesn't wear his sunglasses. he has an actual prescription pair that's a similar style to his sunglasses, just without the tint.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - his guilty pleasures are romance novels. the vampire kind, specifically. he finds them entertaining though he often makes fun of the cheesier ones. when he stumbles across the occasional good one, he rereads it over and over again until he's worn out the spine.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - he drinks wine. not one for beer, truthfully, but will drink some here and there. whiskey is his second choice.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙kinks⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

୨୧ - (re1) at the beginning of your relationship, he'll only do something if you ask him to. he's never thought much about sexual exploration given his long, *long* history of solitude. he refuses to do anything that might injure you- knifeplay, gunplay, impact play (light or hard), etc. sure, he'll tie you up if you ask, he doesn't mind. he plays into your desires.

୨୧ - (re1) the more he researches, the more he finds he likes. he buys some ribbon to bind you with- the flimsy kind you can get out of quickly should you need to. he loves pink on you. he only binds your wrists together, nothing too intense. maybe he blindfolds you, uses a toy on you, or overstimulates you. consent checks regularly, as well. you use safewords should you need them.

୨୧ - (re5) fully established kinks. he's less human and less rational, but he knows to respect your boundaries. he leaves bite marks all over you and demands that you don't cover them up with makeup or clothing. he likes owning you. you're given a collar, of which you can put on or take off as you please, but during which you are fully submissive to him and whatever he wants you to do.

୨୧ - (re5) consensual nonconsensual (cnc) is his favorite. of course, you have to be wearing your collar for him to take advantage of you. safewords are a must for the both of you. he's never submissive, definitely a hard dom. he doesn't feel the need for knives or guns, but he does love impact play. loves shutting up your bratty mouth by slapping you and manhandling you. he's switched to handcuffs instead of ribbon if he deems them necessary.

୨୧ - (re5) since Uroboros has diminished his humanity by a good chunk, he's more animalistic towards you. aside from marking you up, he's obsessed with breeding. adores cumming inside you until you're leaking it. he knows you love it just as much as he does. at some point, it becomes routine. "such a slut. can't go a day without being fucked full of cum." he degrades you lightly, nothing that would genuinely hurt. simple things i.e slut, whore, toy, doll, dumb, stupid, etc.

༘⋆✿ favorite positions ༘⋆✿

๋࣭ ⭑ - (re1) he likes seeing your face. he loves watching your face twist and contort with the pleasure he gives you. adores being able to see all of you, all of what he does to you. eye contact drives him crazy. if you're blindfolded, he won't finish until you're done. he'll ask if he can take your blindfold off between kisses to your face.

๋࣭ ⭑ - missionary is a must. your first time with each other is missionary- the romantic first time you'd see in movies where he takes his time to make you feel valued. the lotus position is another one he likes if you're going to be on top. he's okay with you riding him too, if you really want, but he'd prefer to be the one in control.

๋࣭ ⭑ - if you both aren't feeling sex, he loves getting you off by having you sit on his face or using his fingers on you. he doesn't need anything in exchange either. he's found that he doesn't like receiving head, as he finds it to be degrading towards you, and that's the last thing he wants. but if you insist, he allows it. he mutters praises as you take him down to the base, swallowing around him in an attempt to not gag.

๋࣭ ⭑ - mutual masturbation is something he's weak for. he loves watching your hand try to fit around him as you stroke his cock so eagerly, his fingers buried in your weeping entrance.

๋࣭ ⭑ - (re5) he prefers less intimacy, not like how he used to. he thinks it's too human, something he's made quite clear that he's not anymore. he'll fuck you just about anywhere. he prefers doggy with his arm around your neck, keeping you in a chokehold. bonus points if you beg him to breed you in this position.

๋࣭ ⭑ - what he gets, he'll give. you give him head, something he's come to enjoy, he'll give you head with the same enthusiasm.

๋࣭ ⭑ - cockwarming is a must. prefers it while he's either reading or working at his desk. sometimes, he'll make you read to him and thrust up into you occasionally so you stumble over your words. when he gets impatient, he pins you down and fucks into you until he comes at least twice inside of you.

๋࣭ ⭑ - wearing your collar? he'll fuck you while you're cuddling. spooning is preferred, but whether you're sitting on his lap, lying on top of him, or him on top of you, he's putting his cock inside you. very rarely does he do slow and soft, but if you're both tired, he'll be careful with you. he loves sitting you in his lap, his forceful grip on your hips, and moving you like a ragdoll. superhuman strength pays off in situations like this. his fingertips leave bruises that make his cock twitch whenever he sees them.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ pet names ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

𓆩♡𓆪 - (re1) calls you darling, dearest, dear, little dove, dove. adores praising you and could for days on end. (i.e. "that's it, dear, you're doing so well for me. are you alright? should i stop?)

𓆩♡𓆪 - (re5) calls you pet, dear, bunny, darling, slut, whore, dolly. praises and degrades you. (i.e. "what a good fucking whore, taking my cock so well. you were made for taking my cock, my personal whore. i'm going to ruin you for anyone else." )

#bunny's headcanons ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ ｡꒱ྀི১ #bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ #resident evil headcanons #albert wesker headcanons #albert wesker smut #albert wesker x reader #resident evil #albert wesker #resident evil fanfiction #albert wesker i love youuuu #writing #resident evil smut #sorry this is so long #im down horrendous

[bunnystalker]

haunting you - a. wesker x reader

you're a stripper and he's a scientist who's never felt the touch of another.

a/n; first wesker piece i've written in a whiiiile so i'm sorry if this is a little clunky!!

content warnings; set in 1998 before the mansion incident, jill moonlights as a bartender, virgin!wesker, stripper!reader (no set stripper name), wesker is in his late thirties (38), reader is 21, loss of virginity, brief dry-humping, sex (p in v), dirty talk, technically bottom/sub wesker, top/dom reader, this might be ooc (im rusty), light petplay (you call him a puppy and he almost creams), whiny wesker, slight condescension from the reader, not proofread as always lol

terms of endearment; darling, sweetheart, dear, puppy (wesker)

wc; 2.460k

You stare at your reflection in the vanity mirror, one of many workers tonight who are less than strapped for cash not unlike yourself. Since you were legal, you’d made the choice, albeit degrading, to start stripping. That was three years ago. Now twenty-one, you’re less naive and smarter with your money, but still lacking financially. Not to mention, you’d been at this club for three years, why change that? No real job would take you if you told them what you’d been doing as a makeshift career anyway.

And so you stare. Your makeup is kept simple but alluring enough for most anyone to be drawn to you, but your outfit is the real showstopper. Strappy and black, you’re nearly naked, but you’re used to that by now. The usual pre-performance jitters have struck you once again, leaving you with cold feet and nerves that aren’t much warmer. Even in the back rooms, you can hear the bass-heavy music and high whistles of men vying for more of whomever’s attention. It’s enough to draw you from your shell and with a few deep breaths, you force yourself away from the vanity. The path to the stage is short, much to your chagrin, and the lights are hotter than hell when you step out to the shiny stage. While you get no cheering, you get your own special welcome of drunken customers whistling lowly and the occasional whoop. 

You know from experience that, while intoxicated, watching someone work the pole is hypnotic at the least. Your audience can hardly take their eyes off of you, rolling your body against the chromatic steel pole. It’s still warm from the previous dancer. Your anthem for tonight is seductive and slow, as most dancers’ songs are, and your face is the peak of seduction even as the inebriated crowd douses you with cash of all varieties.

After the dance, you’re slick with the slightest sheen of sweat. Nobody ever said dancing was easy, even the exotic kind. You walk to the bar, swaying your hips with every step. Despite the money you’d earned from your on-stage performance, you’re hounding for more. You refuse to leave with less than your month’s rent tonight. So you saunter to the bar, your sultry gaze scanning the sea of people carefully.

“A drink?” Jill, the bartender asks as you lean against the bar. She’s always liked you, so she slips you a free drink now and then.

“Please,” you nod softly and she smiles, ready to make your usual as a platinum-blonde man approaches you. He offers you no smile, just a somewhat menacing stare. You’d be scared if there wasn’t something so virginal about him. Otherwise handsome, with pale skin and blue eyes behind slightly dorky prescription glasses. Not to mention, he’s dressed in a suit.

“Lovely show,” he says with a somewhat nasally voice. Like clockwork, you smile and sip the cocktail Jill slides over to you. His lips twitch slightly at the corners- a smile by his terms in return.

“Thank you, honey.”

“Of course, dear.” He takes a seat on the stool beside you, flagging Jill over for a cocktail of his own. He seems confident, though you’re not sure if it’s because he’s got money or because he’s talking to someone attractive. Your gaze remains steady on his face, although his trails much lower on you before flicking up to meet your eyes. Weird, you could’ve sworn they were blue just a moment ago…

“Do tell, darling,” he ghosts a pale, elegant hand over your shoulder, “how much would a few hours of privacy with you cost me?” 

Just looking at him, he seems like he has money. He reeks of crisp bills that can hardly fit in his overflowing wallet. Part of you wonders just how much you can get out of him. Your performance left you with roughly $360- not quite enough. Should you play your cards right, he could be your last customer for the night.

“Three hundred per hour.” You say with that same smile. He doesn’t flinch at the number like most men might. Then again, you get the feeling that he’s not like most men. He seems respectful, too- maybe you were wrong and he’s a regular, or maybe he doesn’t want to get kicked out. He nods and you finish your drink quickly. He does the same.

“Shall we?” He gestures to the back of the club where there’s less light and doors that lead to private rooms. If he were allowed to touch you, he’d offer you his arm.

-

You can always tell the experience level of men when they’re alone with you, away from friends whom they might try to fool with a hyper-masculine persona. This man- whose name you still don’t know- is similar to that. He grows a bit more fidgety, maybe out of impatience, and when he sits down on the plush velvet booth surrounding the stage, he struggles to stay still. He clears his throat quietly and looks away from you as you straddle him.

“So tell me,” you purr, cupping his jaw and guiding him to look at you in all your seductive glory. The way your hair is styled compliments your makeup, the curve of your pliant flesh between the straps of your skimpy bikini bottom that’s adorned with black gems, and your top decorated with those same gems. His cheeks heat up at the smooth sound of your voice, red tinging his alabaster cheeks. Nervous eyes trail up your body to meet your own, your heavy gaze inflicting arousal upon him. The heavy feeling pools in his gut, his cock twitching to life in his boxers.

“What’re you looking for? A lap dance? Something a little more?” It’s a little late to be asking that but you get the feeling he doesn’t mind. Even though you’re just hovering, you can feel a hint of the bulge in his pants.

He swallows thickly.

“What would a little more get me?” He asks quietly, his hands unsteadily hovering around your waist. Seeing such soft skin begging to be touched makes his mouth water. Little do you know- you might, given how anxious he seems to be- he’s had very few chances to touch someone as gorgeous as you. He’d taken none of those chances and to this day, remains a virgin. He’s not used to being so close to someone like you.

“Sex, sweetheart.” You rub his cheek with your thumb, resisting the urge to tease him into oblivion. Technically, soliciting sex is against club rules, but what your boss doesn’t know won’t hurt her. “Would that cost extra?” “Yeah, it would. You buying?”

“H-How much?”

“An extra three hundred.”

He rushes to grab his wallet from his pocket and dig out the three hundred. You smile as you take it from his trembling hand and tuck it into the waistband of your panties.

“Thank you…”

“Albert.”

“Thank you, Albert,” you settle your full weight onto his lap, really feeling the extent of his boner under your clothed cunt. He groans quietly, biting his bottom lip as he stares wantonly at you. A soft giggle escapes your throat, “just a few rules though.”

He gulps and nods, trying his hardest to pay attention in favor of rutting against your warm, inviting cunt like a dog in heat. You let go of his face.

“One; you cannot leave bruises- no hickeys, scratches, bitemarks, etcetera. Two; no kissing, I need my makeup to be perfect. Three; I’m in control and if you have a problem, speak now or forever hold your peace.” You give him a moment to voice any protests, but he’s quiet as a mouse.

“Fourth and finally, if you cum inside of me, you’re paying me an extra hundred per load. Do you consent to all these rules?”

“I do.”

“Good man,” you feel his cock throb at the praise. Albert sucks in a sharp breath as you slowly roll your hips, a shaky exhale following when you guide his hands to your waist. His hesitance feeds your confidence like fuel to a fire. He tips his head back, each movement against his clothed cock forcing a pathetic whine from the back of his throat. He bites his bottom lip hard and true to a virgin’s ways, his climax is approaching quickly. Sure, he’s masturbated before, but this is much different. You’re so pretty and wet, your dripping arousal soaking through the gusset of your panties. Watching him slowly come undone, the menacing facade melting into the mess he’s trying so hard not to be is satisfying. You’re relatively unphased, even as his cock bumps your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. He’s getting too close to cumming.

“I-I’m going to- Wait, please,” he grips your hips tight, making you still, “I need to be inside of you.” You nod softly and scoot back a little, allowing him to unzip his fly and shove his pre-cum stained boxers down so his cock stands free. Pale fading to pink at the tip, weeping with sticky, salty fluid- he’s long, about three fingers thick, and clean-shaven. He looks down at your hand as you grab his length, cooing quietly at him with faux sympathy and stroking him once, twice.

“Please,” his hands ball into fists with the effort of his restraint. Needy, half-lidded blues meet yours again, “please fuck me.” 

“Sure, sweetheart.” You chuckle softly and push your panties to the side, careful of the cash hooked on your waistband, and shuffle closer. He nearly cums the moment you lower yourself onto his achy length, his mouth dropping open. You wince slightly at the stretch- it’s on you for forgoing prep, but how can you deny him when he’s so pliant in your hands? His hands shoot our to grab your waist firmly, struggling to maintain what little composure he has left. Panting, his cheeks are bright red, and he can’t stop looking at you. 

He allows you a moment to adjust- though it’s mostly for himself to will himself to avoid cumming on the spot. You’re wet and warm, gummy walls surrounding his length perfectly. It’s even better when you start moving, rolling your hips smoothly. Hands on his shoulders, you keep yourself steady as you ride him. Soft moans fall from your lips, his cock brushing against your spongy g-spot deep within your velvetine walls. He’s all but whimpering, his perfectly aligned teeth digging hard into his pale pink lower lip so hard he might bleed.

He does once you lean forward and move faster, your face just inches from his. If you hadn’t set the rule of no kissing, he’d be pressing his lips to yours to hide his pathetic noises. 

“You know,” you murmur, locking his eyes to yours again, “you look kind of like a puppy.” His cock kicks inside of you at that, a stray moan slipping from his lips. He shouldn’t like that, really. He’s a scientist- a virologist to be more specific-, a professional, uptight man, and yet he’s acting so subserviently. It would be bothersome if he wasn’t balls deep inside of you and nearing his climax quickly. 

Panting, he struggles to restrain himself. He can’t help himself as he leans forward and wraps you in his (oddly) strong arms, burying his face into your neck to stave off his orgasm for just a little longer. The obscene squelch of your slick makes his head spin, each roll of your hips making him grunt or groan louder and louder until-

“C-Cumming- cumming-” he rasps, his pulsing length spilling hot, sticky seed deep within your gummy walls. The moan he lets out is downright shameful, his grip on you tightening exponentially.

You gasp quietly at how much he cums and how deep it is, nearly reaching your cervix. You pause for his sake, allowing him to relax against your soft body as he recovers from his high. In attempt to soothe him a little more, you rub his upper back. He grumbles and pushes himself against the back of the booth, huffing. His once-perfect hair has become a bit mussed, likely loosened due to the light sheen of sweat. He can’t seem to look at you as he slips another hundred into the waistband of your panties alongside the three other bills.

“Do you want to-” He gestures to you, still straddling him with his soft dick inside of you. Like a nice man, he wants you to finish, but you know you shouldn’t. It would likely increase the chances of you getting pregnant and you simply can’t have that, birth control implant be damned.

“No, it’s fine.” You shake your head softly and get off of him, fixing your underwear as you turn away to give him privacy. He tucks himself in his boxers and zips his pants up before fishing for his now-thinner wallet, though it’s not completely empty yet. If you didn’t know better (and you don’t, he’s a stranger after all,) you’d think he gets off on this kind of thing- his wallet being drained.

Albert hands you three more hundreds and mumbles a quiet “thank you” for your services. It hasn’t even been an hour, but it’s not like he cares. Who wouldn’t want to give their money to someone as pretty as you?

He’s satisfied by the looks of things, his face less red now that he’s calmer and more composed. You take the money happily, watching him walk to the door with a smile on your lips.

“What’s your name, dear?” He looks at you over his shoulder.

“Come back soon and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Albert leaves with that, his dignity shattered and his pride dismantled. 

Weeks later and you’re at home sitting on your couch, watching the news late at night after one of your shifts. You’re barely paying attention, looking through missed calls on your motorola cd930 when you hear a familiar name come up on the missing persons list. The news anchor is reading off a list of names from the most recent tragedy- a mansion exploding in Arklay County, where supposedly some members of the local S.T.A.R.S team got trapped and barely made it out alive (so you’ve heard.)

“Albert Wesker, Joseph Frost, Richard Aiken, Edward Dewey…” The tired man drones on, listing off the rest of the names as pictures start to pop up. Only one face sticks out to you.

“No way,” you sit up straight and lean closer to your television, your eyes focused on Albert’s picture. Save for the sunglasses, that’s him. You’re shocked and honestly a little disheartened. 

In your dreams, you see him again.

#bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ #bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ #albert wesker #resident evil #albert wesker x reader #resident evil fanfiction #writing #resident evil x reader #albert wesker fanfic #albert wesker x you #albert wesker smut #top!reader #stripper!reader

[bunnystalker]

chemtrails over the research facility (18+).

sry for spam posting! butttt i wrote this over thanksgiving and i realized it would be perfect to post here! the wesker brainrot is real. also this is one of my first times writing sex stuff so pointers + criticisms are always welcome! (also this has punctuation and proper capitalisation wowww!! go kori)

cw; dubcon due to non-verbal consent, boss/employee relationships, obsessed/possessive wesker, delusional wesker kinda, eventual smut (p in v), afab reader, unsafe sex, breeding kink, minor stalking, creep wesker.

petnames (reader received); dearest

Aesthetically, you're the perfect match. His skin next to yours- ethereal. Utterly divine. But it seems that, between the two of you, only he notices. 

He's the head researcher. He should have your attention, but unfortunately, you're a good worker. You're diligent and focused- no time for being distracted by him, even if he is your boss. In fact, you're not distracted by anyone. Countless attempts at small talk he's made and yet you, you brilliant thing, don't even care. 

"How is your research going?" He'll ask when he sees you in the break room. He always keeps his distance professional, lest there be an HR report to be filed later. 

You always reply, simply out of politeness. You look at him, those hypnotic eyes of yours and the intoxicating smell of your skin and the pheromones lying beneath it.

"Fine," you'd say, or maybe a "wonderfully, Dr. Wesker," if you're feeling exceptionally affectionate. Hearing your voice- like silk on his ears- is enough to make him rock hard. His slacks tighten by a few degrees and he's thankful his labcoat is buttoned to cover himself. 

That, of course, is the end of your conversations, but never the end of his obsessive thoughts. When he goes home to his apartment, sleek and well-decorated given the money he gets from Umbrella, he makes haste towards his bedroom. He doesn't waste time with foreplay for himself- doesn't need to as he's still hard from earlier- before getting himself off rather hastily. 

In retrospect, if you were here, he would take his time with you. He'd learn ever nook and cranny to make you gasp, whine, and moan his name over and over until it's engraved on your tongue and in his brain. He'd fuck you slowly, pushing the head of his cock past the ring of your entrance and watch your face when the rest of him slips in. 

It's easy because you let it be easy- your legs spread wide so he can watch himself go in and out. His nerves would be aflame, his heart racing, and yet you'd always bring him back. You'd coo his name and tug him down by his hair to kiss you. Cool the flames burning beneath his skin, even as he draws closer. 

"Finish inside me." You'd whisper against his lips, your nails digging into his back. Blood dribbles to the surface of the fresh wounds and the gentle pain tips him over the edge. He cums harder than he ever has and it's all for you. 

You'd murmur praise in his ear, how good it feels to be filled with his cum. How you hope it sticks. He hopes so, too. 

After all, you two would make the ideal child. The ideal specimen - the perfect race.

When he's brought back to reality- unsatisfying and too harsh to really enjoy most days- he's partially disgusted with himself. He's never felt like this towards anyone except his ex-wife, and even then it wasn't to this degree. 

Not to mention that this little breeding fantasy of his is the most tame one he's ever had. It surprises him at times, too, when they pop up in his head and the... darkness of it all.

He's your boss. He could, hypothetically, ruin your career for turning him down. Maybe he never would in all actuality, but it is nice to imagine. He thinks about your lips around him, tears running down your face from him purposefully choking you a few times. 

He cleans himself up and changes into his pajamas for the night. He skips the shower only because he'll probably spend half of it thinking of you again, and let's face it, he'd be up for much longer trying to track down your location if that happened. Brainless and horny, he would be, not realizing how easy it would be to find your location in Umbrella's file archives.

When he's at work the next day, all he does is stare at you behind those useless sunglasses he wears. You walk into the room and you have his undying attention. He's lucky he's so in control of his body. His face would be a tomato otherwise. 

It is when you look at him, when your eyes find his behind his sunglasses and he forgets how to breathe for a moment. When you invade his personal space for just a moment and give him a half-smile and say "Hi, Dr. Wesker. It's nice to see you today."

If only you knew what he would do in a room with just you in it. 

In his typical fashion, he nods at you and greets you in return. For a split second he swears there's color on those cheeks but you're gone before he can look again, and asking you to look at him would raise suspicions. Besides, you don't need him distracting you. 

He does anyway, forgoing his better instincts for this one ounce of primality within him. 

He approaches you when you're packing up. It's the end of your shift here and you look tired, like you need someone to lean on- Stress relief, in the most innocent way. He doesn't touch you yet, but he does ask you to come to his office.

You do. He's your boss, someone who you look up to whether or not you show it. And honestly, it's not like his presence is unwelcome. Or yours.

He closes the door behind you and locks it. Now that concerns you.

"Dr. Wesker?" You look up at him, those pretty eyes conveying so much fear that he aches to soothe.

"Don't worry, dearest." He cups your jaw and smoothes his thumb over your cheek, relishing the feeling of your soft skin. Were you a specimen, he'd never dissect you. He'd preserve you and take you home, put you on a shelf, and stare for hours at you. Not unlike what he does now.

You are only slightly soothed by this before you're creeped out. This feels unlike something the Dr. Wesker you know would do. Of course, he's handsome. Conventionally attractive. You never paid attention to him like that, but now, it doesn't feel like there's much of a choice. 

He hums at your compliance, watching as you melt into his hand and wrap your own hand around his oddly muscled forearm. For a scientist, he's... fit? His thumb trails over your lips and his senses light on fire at the softness of them.

You kiss the pad of his thumb and his reaction is one you won't soon forget- his face flushed bright pink at the action, one that indicates how long he's wanted this. You treasure it, despite the circumstances. 

His other hand finds your waist and pulls you closer, his head ducking down to kiss you softly. 

"Innocent" stress relief. That's what this was supposed to be.

His hands are surprisingly soft when he handles you. He never yanks or pulls, which is nice in comparison to your previous partners. He caresses your breasts through your shirt and revels in the way your breathing becomes shaky, a shudder running down your spine. He can smell the arousal poisoning the air and it's not long before he walks you back against his desk, lifting you by the hips to place you on it like you're some doll.

You feel like one. He treats you like a prize to be had. He unbuttons your shirt just enough to reveal your bra and even though he wants you fully naked, he knows it's a bad idea- less easy to cover up should someone walk in. He bites his bottom lip, cups your breasts through the thin lace bralette, and thumbs over your nipples as he listens for your reaction. He decides that it's his favorite noise, your gentle moan caused by him of all people. 

He continues. He rolls them between his thumb and index finger, his breathing growing heavy and his cock stiff. It would be his main focus if you weren't right there, your lips parted, brows knitted and eyes locked on his hands.

"Dr. Wesker-" You lean into his hands, your legs parting in what he takes as a welcoming action.

"Albert, dearest. Call me Albert, please." His eyes flick up to yours, the tips of his ears red as is the rest of him. 

"Albert- God, I-I love your hands..." You sigh quietly, your voice heavenly. If he wasn't already fully hard, he would be.

One of his hands, the dextrous and pale things, pushes your skirt up past your underwear so it rests bunched up around your waist and out of the way. The sodden spot of wetness on the middle of your underwear garners his attention without really trying and his oddly cold finger comes to trail across it. He's barely touching you, sure, but it sends a wave of fire through him to know you're wet because of him, not someone else.

He looks at your panties like he wants to eat you alive. Part of him does. But he's on a mission, albeit a very unhealthy and twisted one, so he doesn't bother. Rather, he presses the pad of his thumb to your clit through your panties and rubs in tight, small circles.

It's ethereal, the way you seem to relax under his touch once he starts playing with your clit. You grow a tad louder, keeping in your hazy mind that you're in an office space still, and your boss is salivating over your cunt. You buck your hips with low effort and whine, betraying what you really want- his dick inside you.

He gets the memo, and yet, he takes his time rubbing that drool-worthy spot on your pretty pussy. He's doing this on purpose. He wants you to be totally, utterly dumb on his cock and this is one of the easier ways to go about it. He plants a few gentle kisses along your collarbone, muttering soft praises into your skin like a prayer he hopes you'll hear.

You do. Every word from his lips causes your insides to flutter, your entrance to clench around nothing. Pulsating in desire. It would be enough to get you on your knees in any other circumstance, yet you get the feeling he doesn't want that.

He tells you how pretty you are. Murmurs how gorgeous you look all the time, how long he's been wanting this, and how you're going to look stuffed with his cock. You shudder as an orgasm rolls through you, your legs shaking and hips spasming in a desperate attempt to chase the fleeting feeling of ecstasy.

He doesn't wait any longer. His hands leave your form and unbutton his slacks, shoving them halfway down his thighs. Like the rest of him, his dick is alabaster. Pale with cool undertones you don't care enough about to analyze further. You're too distracted with the fact that you're about to get fucked presumably within an inch of your life. You push the center of your panties aside.

While that is mostly true, he could never be rough with you. He takes your hips and guides his leaking cock to your entrance. He looks up at you once for permission, and when you nod, he plunges in. 

So maybe he allowed himself to be rough with you for just that one moment. He stills, allowing you ample time to adjust before you're telling him that it's okay for him to move, that you can take it. His blood roars in his ears.

He's never been so ecstatic. Your velvetine walls around his cock, the way you moan his name as he starts to thrust rather shallowly, gently- it's all-encompassing. He's careful- cautious not to hurt you or bruise you, let alone leave any evidence behind that this happened. Except, his fingertips dig into your hips with a vice grip, a tell you're sure he's unaware of. The subtle grunts of pleasure leaking from his lips, your own moans flooding the silence. 

When he grows more bold that he won't hurt you, he thrusts into you a little harder and infinitely deeper than before- he wants you to miss this. He wants to mold your pussy to only ever fit his cock, to ensure that anyone else is unsatisfactory. He wants to come home and have you there, ready and willing whenever he likes. Of course, that last part is unrealistic. He would never treat you with such disrespect. 

You're more sensitive now, one orgasm deep and an impressively thick dick bringing you ever closer to another impending orgasm. He's trying so hard to not lose his composure and you do appreciate that. He's strong, even if he doesn't show it, and that fact does scare you to some degree. His blonde brows are knitted together, his pale pink lips parted and his breathing is oh-so heavy. He's staring down at the point where your entrance meets his dick, only encouraging him to fill you up with his cum.

You want him to. 

"Albert," you reach a hand up to tangle in his perfectly slicked back blonde hair, "you can cum inside me, you know. I-I don't mind." 

He nods, hardly able to speak other than grunt and groan his pleasure. And then he angles his hips a certain way, causing his dick to rub against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision blur with pleasure, and you nearly cry. 

He knows what that did. He can tell just by the look on your face, the same one he's imagined for about a year or so.

"Do that again," you murmur, bringing his face close to yours and pressing your forehead to his. "Please."

He does. All he's ever wanted was to make you feel good and now he's got the chance to. He hits that same spot repeatedly, just hoping you'll moan his name when you cum. His thrusts become somewhat sloppy, though he's still pleasing you, mostly because he's getting close. Your cunt clenches around him, inviting him to keep thrusting until he's braindead and primal.

"I'm close, dearest." He says through more desperate moans, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. Not seconds after, you feel hot sticky fluid filling you and it's enough to push you over the edge again, your cunt pulsing around him as you moan his name. 

When all is said and done, he pulls out and kneels before you to watch his cum drip out and pool on the edge of his desk. 

"Tsk. I'm afraid we can't let this go to waste." He gathers the spilled seed from his desk on his fingers and pushes it back inside you, deeper this time to ensure it really stays.

You squirm a little and whimper. You hadn't expected him to do that, but you also never considered yourself to be on his radar.

"Um. Right. Well, I'm going to go." You return to that cold, closed off demeanor from earlier. The one he hates. But he understands and gets to his feet again, allowing you ample room to fix your clothing.

The smarter man in him is proud he never left a bruise on you. The lesser, more inhumane part curses him for not fucking you in the break room for anyone to see. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Dr. Wesker." You give him a half-smile as you unlock his office door and make your exit. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs quietly. He stuffs himself into his pants again and zips up his fly before gathering his things and heading out.

He follows you home. Tails you, rather, so he knows you're safe. Definitely not so he can write your address down and come in when you're not home. Not so he can steal a pair of your panties to cherish. Absolutely not. 

Albert Wesker is more dignified than that. Or, that's what he tells himself when he goes home, your panties tucked in his pocket. 

#albert wesker x reader #albert wesker i love youuuu #albert wesker smut #stalker albert wesker #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #writing #bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ #bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[bunnystalker]

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.

#albert wesker x reader #writing #uroboros #albert wesker fluff #albert wesker smut #albert wesker fanfic #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #reader insert #gn reader #bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ #bunny's blurbs✧˖ °

[bunnystalker]

sleep ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

a/n; something quick and cute for the soul. thanks for the patience, y'all.

cw; very brief allusions to masturbation, fluff, gn!reader, sleepy wesker, reader owns a cat

all of your life, you've had issues sleeping. at most, you'd get six hours of sleep, and on your worst nights, none. the rare occasions of getting eight hours did not happen without interruption, always woken up multiple times by something out of your control- a noise startling you awake, your bladder, or your cat stepping on you.

you'd hoped for that to change after you started dating albert. the first few nights of adjusting to someone else being in your bed were rocky, as you could no longer just do your thing and fall back asleep or start talking to yourself. instead, albert was there, sleeping soundly. it almost made you jealous until you saw how angelic he looked while asleep, blissfully unaware of your troubles.

tonight was no different. in the midst of your sleep, you were startled awake by something touching you. you suspected your cat at first, your sleepy haze not processing much at first, until you realized it was albert, and he was pulling you closer to him. a dreamy smile formed on your lips as he wrapped his arm around you, his chest flush with your back and his legs entangled with yours. "my dove," he mumbled, burying his nose into your hair. he'd never been openly clingy but in little moments where he thought nobody could see, that side of him shone through. he inhaled deeply, wallowing in your scent and warmth, and mumbled something else.

"so warm, my little doll," his voice was hoarse with sleep, sending butterflies to your stomach. you'd been together for a while now, but his morning voice was something you had yet to stop fawning over. under the guise of thinking you were asleep still, he kissed your temple and gently squeezed your waist. he fell asleep once more shortly after, and so did you.

#bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ #bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ #albert wesker #resident evil #albert wesker x reader #resident evil fanfiction #writing #albert wesker i love youuuu #albert wesker fluff #albert wesker fanfic

[bunnystalker]

Hey is it okay if you could write a fic where the reader uses the safe word for Albert Wesker, im curious on what you think about that. If not, then I hope you have a nice day!

hiiii anon! i'm not taking requests for full fics but i will definitely indulge you with a ficlet since i haven't written anything like this for re5 wesker yet! (also you're never a bother don't think you are <𝟑)

quick cw here; cnc (consensual nonconsensual), degradation, collaring + leashing, bdsm elements, dom/sub dynamic, dom!wesker sub!afab!reader, hurt/comfort aspects, reader is wearing a skirt

albert's been more brutal than ever, his grip on your hips so hard you fear they'll break. he's stressed- that much is apparent just from looking at him- furrowed brows, a fierce frown, and threateningly red eyes behind his shades.

that's why you're here, though. his cock is buried in you so deep you can feel it in your gut, the fat head nearly piercing your cervix with every single thrust he gives. his words are mean and normally, you'd like them, but today is weird for you, too. you're not yourself today and you'd hoped, that by putting on your collar and surrendering yourself to him like you do often, you'd feel better. you don't. if he can tell something is wrong, he doesn't say it. you have a safeword for a reason. your noises are quiet and muffled with your head being shoved into the couch cushions. the way he's filling you is heavenly, but you're not in the right headspace. it worsens when he tugs on your leash.

"umbrella!" the safeword you two agreed on leaves your lips in a sob, and you're a wreck. it's a hard stop, a means for you to get out of any scene that became too much and skip to aftercare.

the scene falls- he pulls out and takes your collar off, tucks himself in his pants, and straightens out your skirt before he even thinks about trying to move you into a different position.

"i'm here, darling. it's alright. i'm going to move you so you're on your back, alright?" he places his hand high on your back, between your shoulder blades to negate anything sexual about his touch. you nod weakly, quiet little sobs escaping you. he gets out from between your legs and flips you over so you're able to breathe easier and so he can soothe you better.

he's by your side within seconds, knelt beside the couch and fixing your shirt to cover your breasts. his other hand cups your face, giving you something to hold on to.

"shh, dove, it's going to be alright. i'm sorry, i didn't mean to hurt you." he takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to your knuckles. you shake your head lightly.

"not your fault. i just don't feel right today." you mumble, turning on your side to face him properly. he sighs, his eyes not as red anymore, and kisses your forehead.

"you should have told me earlier, sweet thing." his worry for you becomes visible as he removes his sunglasses and sets them aside. your tears are less severe now that he's comforting you, your body not shaking as much. you ache from his rough treatment, however.

"i know. i'm sorry." he strokes your hair, a small "tsk" leaving him.

"it's just fine. come, let's get you cleaned up." he picks you up bridal-style with ease, your head resting against his shoulder as he carries you to the bathroom. standing would be a lot for you right now and he knows that, so he sets you down on the bathroom counter with a kiss to your temple and runs you a bath.

you're as still as a doll as he undresses you, kissing every inch of you to further reassure you of his love. he's sweeter than usual for the rest of the night- practically coddling you- because he knows you need it like he needs you.

#bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ #bunny's replies 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ #bunny's blurbs✧˖ ° #albert wesker fluff #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker #albert wesker smut #aftercare #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil

[bunnystalker]

albert whiskers (fluff)

after umbrella disposes of him, albert finds himself in a shelter for abandoned hybrids. lucky for him, he's exactly what you're looking for + extra lil bit at the end!

a/n; another option on the 100 followers special poll- i just rlly wanted to write all of these i'm sorry guys... also i do not have energy to write sex now that i'm working more sorry!!! no sex in this one

tags; @whiskers-my-beloved

the fan whirs overhead, another noise that fades into the background with pathetic barks, meows, and clucking from the other hybrids in the shelter. being older, more people passed by his kennel in favor of other, younger hybrids. he's been here for at least a few years, and the pattern is always the same. new people flood in, walk right past him, and leave with a younger, sweeter hybrid that has more energy and can give them more love.

you're just looking for a pet. someone to love and adore, but not tire you out with endless wishes to play. you've always had older animals growing up, so why would a hybrid be any different?

walking through the path between multiple cages, many younger hybrids try to garner your attention, but none of them really piques your interest. as you reach the back end, you notice that there's not as many hybrids back here, and if there are, they're older and somewhat sad. you assume they've been here for a while, which rings true based on the acceptance dates on the information plagues hanging off their cage doors. most of them don't look at you, though the occasional one raises their head in curiosity and mild hope. it really just breaks your heart.

at the last cage, you stop to read the plaque as you've done with the other older hybrids in the more dim half of the room.

"albert whiskers..? how cute," you murmur, smiling softly. you peer inside the cage to find said albert whiskers and find him sitting in the corner of his cage. he looks up at you through (what you assume to be) prescription sunglasses, his tail flicking curiously. he's handsome, his platinum blonde ears twitching as he sniffs you out from afar. his tail matches his messily slickbacked hair, his pupils widening. he wasn't expecting to see someone both young ang cute in front of his cage, not since he was thrown here. of course, he doesn't get his hopes up quite yet, but his tail and ears betray him.

"well hello there," you say, placing a hand on the cage door, "i take it you're mr. whiskers?"

he stares at you for a few moments more, wondering whether or not he should engage you. it's your subtle head tilt at the end of your question that gets him to do it.

"…yes, that would be me." he says coolly, trying to appear a bit more cold. it doesn't work all that well, and you find his voice to be nice.

"you've been here quite a while, huh?" you sit down in front of his cage, placing your hands on your knees.

"i have," he resists the urge to scoot closer, "a few years."

oh, how your heart bleeds for him.

"well, can i take you home?"

"are you not looking for a more… youthful companion?" his ear twitches with interest.

you shake your head softly.

"no, i wouldn't be able to care for a younger hybrid. i work too much for that. i was hoping to find someone older."

he's silent as he figures out your true motives, if you're really trying to get his hopes up only to leave the moment he agrees.

"if it helps," you add, "i live alone. it's just me and myself, no other animals or people, i'm pretty quiet, i won't force you to cuddle, and i'm just tired of being alone in my home."

albert nods softly, rubbing his wrist as he considers what you've said. your words are tempting, and truthfully, it sounds as though you could provide him with what he needs- stability. not to mention how cute you are. your eyes are so sweet and part of him aches to just lie down in front of you and let you pet him all over.

"… alright. i suppose that will do just fine."

and like that, you take him home. he adjusts after a few weeks of overly cautious behavior. the two of you fall into a routine- you work while he busies himself doing menial tasks around the house, and when you come home, he's there to listen. he's replaced the role of a boyfriend for you, honestly.

so when you come home from work tired, and as usual, albert greets you at the door. he moves to hug you, but you brush him off.

"hi, alby." you mutter, walking right past him in favor of your bed. he follows you with hesitance.

"dear," he says, watching you crawl into bed without so much as changing out of your work clothes.

"hm?" you don't look up from the comfort of your sheets.

he walks over to the bed and climbs in bed beside you, his ears flat against his head.

"are you upset with me?" he asks quietly, unable to help the slight desperation in his voice. he'd been missing you all day and really, all he wanted was to cuddle with you even if he won't say it outright. instead, he reaches out and places a clawed hand on your shoulder, trying his hardest to avoid kneading you should you end up kicking him out.

"no, honey. i'm just tired, alright?" you say, gently brushing his hand away. clearly, something's wrong, but he doesn't press. he just lies beside you, his tail curled anxiously on the bed.

you can feel the anxiety he exudes rolling off of him in cold waves, and despite you being tired, you roll over to face him.

"just come here…" you sigh and push the sheets off of you, patting your chest. reluctant and still somewhat hurt by your initial dismissive rejection, he scoots close and presses his face into your chest. once your hand tangles in his hair, he's purring and nuzzling closer. the softness of his hair and the fur on his ears isn't lost on you. he's so happy to be with you after a full day of being alone. he's not used to such solitude without you around. even before, when he was working at umbrella, he wasn't alone.

though he feels silly about snuggling up to you like some needy pet, he can't help it. he's become somewhat dependent on you since his arrival, though he wouldn't admit that to anyone, not even you.

the calm silence is familiar and soothing, nothing but the sound of your breathing filling the air. his tail flicks happily, his ears perked up as well.

evenings like these weren't unusual. after a few moments more of lying in bed, you finally sit up and press a kiss to his forehead.

"i missed you, kitty. sorry for being mean." you mutter, stroking his hair still as you look into his hazel eyes. his heart flutters, slitted pupils turning round within seconds.

"it's alright, dear. i only missed you is all," he takes your hand and kisses the back of it, keeping his eyes locked on yours, "it's too quiet without you somedays."

the blush that dusts your cheeks is unmistakable. his free hand creeps up your arm to cup your head and pull you in for a soft kiss, one he'd been looking forward to all day. you reciprocate it with love, his gentleness only something you can coax out of him. his lips are soft and honey-sweet, his whiskers tickling your face. you pull away giggling at the feeling.

"let's get you out of those clothes, hm?" he mutters, rolling the both of you over so he's on top. you blush more and nod softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"it's time for me to take care of my owner. you've been so good to me." he starts kissing down your jaw, his whiskers brushing against your skin.

-

extra!

it's the weekend and you've been out for too long, something albert's grown suspicious of. you're never out this long without explanation or good reason. he waits on the couch, tail swishing with irritation. his ears twitch when he hears footsteps approach the front door, yours accompanied by a pair he's unfamiliar with.

you open the door soon enough and he doesn't bother to greet you, pissed off at you for taking so long. not to mention, that nasty smell you've brought in, it almost smells like-

"albert, i got you a friend! come here, honey!" you call, holding chris's leash loosely. you shut the door with your hip.

his ears perk up and he quickly gets out of his seat, turning around to see chris redfield standing by your side, glaring at him.

"chris!"

#bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ #albert wesker #resident evil #albert wesker x reader #resident evil fanfiction #bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ #hybrid au #cat hybrid #cat hybrid albert wesker #hybrid!albert wesker #albert wesker fanfic #albert wesker smut #albert whiskers

[bunnystalker]

albert wesker hcs (re0-1)

hi!! first post! let me know if it's ooc or not, i'm trying. tysm for reading! tags below.

cw; fluff, angst, hurt/no comfort, follows the events of re1. boyfriend! wesker bc he's so sillypants and i love him lol. not proofread, written under the influence, whoops! somewhat clingy but mostly cold reserved bf wesker. jill and chris mentioned, valenfield implied.

petnames used; primrose, little dove.

boyfriend wesker!, who's not always the most affectionate but makes sure to always have a hand on you at all times, unless you're apart. he's always holding either your hand, your waist, or the back of your neck. his hands are slightly calloused, cold, and smooth from both his lines of work. you'd shudder upon initial comment, mutter something about his fingers being "cold as ice," and melt into his touch anyway.

boyfriend wesker!, who, when you're away, sends you updates on his day so you're not worried where he's gone. if he's reading a book, he'll send you a line that makes him think of you, be it a fact or something a character said. when he's working and you're at home, he's frequenting his Nokia 6150 in his office to see if you've messaged him. he's private about your relationship with all his coworkers, Umbrella or R.P.D.

boyfriend wesker! who hasn't told you about his job at Umbrella, and likely won't for your own safety. He can't risk getting his little dove involved, especially if you're not the science type. he only tells you things you'd want to hear about his position at the R.P.D.- stories of Chris being an astounding meathead and Jill's crush on him. he'd update you on developments because he knows you like that sort of thing, even if you say you don't. off-handedly, he'd mention Barry's family, and look at you with some odd kind of longing.

boyfriend wesker!, who is incredibly protective deep down, but refuses to act out or make either of you look foolish. if you're getting hit on, he'll intervene on your behalf and simply pull you aside. he knows it's not your fault. he could never be mad at you, his primrose.

boyfriend wesker!, who has a very big soft spot for you. while he's cold with anyone else, you are the only one he'll let some of his walls down for. he feels bad for lying to you about certain things, but he has good intentions- or so he thinks.

boyfriend wesker!, whose feelings are stronger than he thought they could be for someone. his heart yearns for you at all times, and though he doesn't say it often, he would kill for you. his own feelings scare him at times- when he wakes up in the middle of the night, you by his side snoring away, and wonders how he got here in the first place. it's those times he might pull away and try to close himself up again.

boyfriend wesker!, who pushes you away when he can't handle his feelings. he reprimands himself for not being in control of himself- that's all he really wants, control. he tries to keep himself at a good distance so you're content with him, so you trust him. he doesn't realize he's manipulating you, nor that he's hurting you. he doesn't think he can.

boyfriend wesker!, who, when you end up leaving him (as you should), doesn't bat an eye. although it does hurt, he knows better than to beg, god forbid cry, at your feet as an attempt to keep you for longer. he has never been that kind of man. instead, he wishes you well and helps you pack your things. of course he's curious as to why you're leaving and in due time, he'll make all your suspicions come to life. soon enough. he'll confirm your worst fears- that he's been hiding from you, lying to you, for your entire relationship.

ex-boyfriend wesker!, who, months after the breakup, isn't over you. still sleeps with a shirt you left behind used as a pillowcase for a pillow he hugs to get comfortable. he'll wake up in the morning at times and feel around for you, his heart sinking in his chest at the reality of your absence. when he gets ready and stares annoyedly at himself in the mirror while he brushes his teeth. imagines it's you slicking his hair back with a light-feeling gel instead of himself. if he thinks about it for too long, he can hear you making little comments about how long his hair has gotten or how soft it is. his lips press into a thinner line at that, and his jaw clenches.

ex-boyfriend wesker!, who carries out his plans to get rid of S.T.A.R.S. and wonders what you'd think of him now after he's tried to kill his employees (and almost succeeds. that damn Chris.) you wouldn't look at him the same, but the twisted and frankly delusional part of him hopes you'll tell him that it's okay. that you'll still kiss him how you used to, or touch his arm and reassure him that he didn't do anything wrong, that he's justified in his actions. although these delusions would only carry him so far, as he needs the real you- not just an apparition of you.

#albert wesker x reader #boyfriend wesker #resident evil #my headcanons #albert wesker #wesker x reader #resident evil headcanons #albert wesker headcanons #criticism welcome #criticism appreciated #hello tumblr #first post #welcome to my blog #wesker addict ngl #bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ #bunny's headcanons ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ ｡꒱ྀི১

[bunnystalker]

albert wesker hcs pt.3

guys... i'm sorry i'm so obsessed with re1 wesker... but these are for re1 wesker...

cw; cigarettes, lighters, william birkin mentions, alcohol mentions, s.t.a.r.s AND umbrella mentions WHOAAAA, debunking rebesker, rebecca chambers mention, kissing!, a peak into wesker's backstory, if you don't know his backstory please read his wiki page im begging you.

a/n; reader's job is unspecified so how y'all meet is really up to you!

✰ albert smokes. that's no surprise, really. he likes menthols- his preference is marlboro blue 100's, but he keeps a pack of marlboro black reds around too. doesn't like bic lighters, only uses the zippo lighter he was given (thanks Umbrella.)

✰ he meal preps for the week, cleans as he cooks so there's less of a mess after. he tries to clean every few days as his apartment can get disorganized just as quickly as it's cleaned.

✰ speaking of his apartment…

✰ mahogany cabinets, dark granite countertops, with typical white paint on the walls. nothing too expensive, he still has to keep up the appearance of being a normal citizen and not an Umbrella employee. The floors are cheap linoleum in the kitchen and bathroom wood everywhere else. he has minimal furniture- a couch, a bookshelf, a television on a boring black coffee table. his bed is a full, the sheets black and made of inexpensive material.

✰ he's hardly home except to grab food and sleep, so what more does he need than what he already has? zero pictures hanging up, nothing to make it feel like a real home except for the occasional hint of life.

✰ drinks semi-regularly. he likes wines and whiskeys, not so much frothy or carbonated drinks i.e. beers or seltzers. if he's offered a cocktail, he'll take it.

✰ he does try to maintain a relativley okay relationship with the s.t.a.r.s alpha team so he doesn't come off as suspicious, even if he seriously dislikes group outings. once a month, they go out for drinks. he doesn't stay long, just enough to get by without revealing too much about himself.

✰ contrary to popular belief, he doesn't have a thing for rebecca. they had a similar educational experience. he graduated highschool and went to college at an early age, just like she did. they share similarities and he finds that he can talk to her with ease, but he doesn't find himself attracted to her. not to mention that she's eighteen- he has morals.

✰ when you come into his life, he's not expecting it in the slightest. hardly anything catches him off guard, but you, you do something to him. you're not a match on the intellectual level and that's fine, he likes being the one to educate you on certain topics. he likes talking to you because you make him feel good without trying. the ease at which you offer your attention to him is something he should expect, but it's different with you. he's not giving you orders or lecturing you- you're just talking, and you like it, no less.

✰ it's a slow burn despite his clear affection for you, which he wasn't hoping to gain initially. it's not his fault that you're so pretty- just his type, no less- and so nice to him. you always smell good and you're put-together in your appearance. he loves that he can simply say whatever around you and how you nod along, giving him your full attention. he drinks it, gets drunk on it, and saves it for later.

✰ maybe he imagines you in the dead of night to help him sleep. wonders what pajamas you wear, if any, to sleep and how you'd feel pressed firmly against him while snuggling. he dreams of coming home to you after a long day, resting his head in your lap as you talk to him about what happened at work. your fingers thread through his hair, bringing a sense of calm to him.

✰ sometimes he wakes up and thinks you're there. he'll pat the mattress blindly until he realizes that no, he's not living the dream because if he were, you'd be lying next to him.

✰ at umbrella, he's just as determined as he is with his s.t.a.r.s team. he's a brilliant virologist- there's a reason he was employed when he was 17. he's the head researcher for the t-virus project and for the tyrant project, the latter being his own work. he helped william with developing the g-virus as well. he tells william about you. after all, william is the closest friend he has, so why would they not confide in each other?

✰ it's william who tells albert to go for it, to tell you how he feels.

✰ albert listens to classical for the most part. given he grew up when nu-wave was picking up, he listens to some of that, too. think depeche mode. not a big fan of the cure. enjoys the smiths (just like me fr.) he likes piano-centric music and some "dad" rock (as you call it.)

✰ he likes kissing you anywhere and everywhere. in his office, in the car (parked! no unsafe driving for him), taking a walk, while he's smoking, drinking, what have you.

✰ he doesn't let his feelings for you get in the way of work, however tempting it may be. sure, he thinks about you on his lunches and texts you when he can, but out of sight, out of mind. he's committed to his career(s) and though you're important to him, his work is more important. he's married to his work, but so is everyone who works at umbrella. he was manufactured for this, which is why he's there so much. why you two grow apart faster than he'd expected, and even while your relationship crumbles, he's working as much as ever.

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