#owner!albert wesker

[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.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

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.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

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.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

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

[gothghostiie]

imagine being allowed to sleep in bed with Albert for the first time since your last escape attempt. You’ve been good enough that he thinks you’ve earned a night in his bed instead of in your cage. But his grip on you is completely solid, you’re not getting up unless you beg his permission. But all you care about is being back in Master’s warm soft bed with him holding you close.

mmmm snuggling up and clinging to him tightly while his strong arms are wrapped around you, holding you almost too tight but the pressure makes you feel safe and cared for :( you nuzzle into him, telling him how warm he is and how much you like being this close to him and how thankful you are to be in his bed:(( he almost wants to keep you in his bed every night

#gothghostiie #ask ghostiie #albert wesker #resident evil #dead by daylight #wesker #dbd #albert wesker x reader #fluff #owner wesker #ghostiie goes dark #tw implied kidnapping #cw implied kidnapping #implied kidnapping

[weskerfied]

I think I secured a wesker bean??? I’m going to sob omg

#personal #me?? a wesker bean owner? #albert wesker #I’m so excited

[autisticsupervillain]

CM: Irredeemable Ladder

The show where we take a Complete Monster and put them in a different franchise to see if they're worse than the worst that franchise can offer.

Today's Monsters...

Albert Wesker vs The Dread X Collection!

Wesker will be put up against the nastiest villains that the Dread X Collection has to offer from least heinous to most until he's either voted less evil or beats the competition. Let's see the competition!

The Shop Keeper

Brother Silence

The Blood Mage

The Curator

Gallagher

Michael Krieger

Final Round: Albert Wesker vs The Shop Keeper!

#complete monster #cm: irredeemable #albert wesker #resident evil #dread x collection #dread xp #toy shop owner

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

So... I don't have a very specific request, I'm just a huge fan of your writing and particularly the smuts you've written with Leon lol, so I wanted to ask for something really naughty like AS PORNOGRAPHIC AS POSSIBLE and maybe related to degradation kink lol please I'M BEGGING YOU NOT TO JUDGE ME, I know this isn't much like canonical leon so feel free to use other characters you like, really just wanted to use the chance of asking you something before you close the requests <33 thanks!!

Okay... Your wish is my command! I hope you don't mind it that since you gave me freedom to pick a character, I actually chose to write Wesker porn. If it's not of your taste you can totally send me another request and istg I'll do it with any character you want lol now, I love Wesker, and I like to keep as close as I can to the cannonical personality, so I should warn this gives a hella toxic and abusive relationship hints! I hope you enjoy it, anon, as well as y'all &lt;;3

Bunny | 3.2k

ao3 | masterlist ✦ Pairing: Albert Wesker x f! reader ✦ Summary: You wake up in Wesker's mansion after accomplishing a difficult mission and he gives you a new drug he's been testing. The effects are quite... dear to you. ✦ TW:  HIGHLY NSFW MINORS DNI, explicit, very explicit, smut, very pornographic, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, very much porn, p in v, degradation kink, unprotected, he cums inside, dirty talk, petcalling, he humiliates you a bit, he's rather toxic as Wesker would be, uses you, no fluff (very slightly in his own wicked way) I inspired this in this song, since I'm dumb and don't know how to embed spotify songs in here, click here if you'd like to hear it &lt;3

You open your eyes to a big, vast dining room in front of you. The walls are adorned with exquisite wallpaper and ornate trimwork. The ceiling is high and vaulted, with beautiful light fixtures hanging from what seems to be golden chains. The room is lavishly furnished with a massive mahogany dining table, with beautiful wine-red chairs that seem to belong to a very expensive collection. Crystal chandeliers cast a dim, flickering light over the table, and paintings in ornate frames hang on the walls, with their eccentric content - suits the owner quite well. 

Doesn’t take you much to realize you’re in Albert’s mansion. You’ve never been here before, only perhaps by the gates, delivering something off to the doorman and that was far from enough to even wonder what secrets lived vivid inside of those walls.

“You’re finally awake… Good.” You hear his voice coming from behind you, and then his hands calmly taking over both your shoulders, his fingers brushing against the thin material of your shirt. As you look down at yourself, you realize you’re wearing completely new clothes, different from the used, semi-destroyed ones you were before on mission. You’re clean, you can feel the delicious smell of your own perfume sprayed along your hair and neck. “You've caused quite a stir among my colleagues, my dear…” He continues, with a faint smirk playing on his lips; you shiver.

“Is that so… May I ask why, Doctor?” You ask, your face lifting just enough over your shoulder so you can look up at him. 

Wesker chuckles softly, his pale blue eyes burning into yours over the rim of his glass. He takes a leisurely sip of wine before setting it down on the table, along with another glass - one he offers to you, in a hand gesture. You accept, sipping a bit from it.

“Do you underestimate yourself? Your talent? Your own dedication to me and my projects, you see - it is enviable for many, bunny.” His predatory grin widens in pointy canines. “And you succeeded again. I trust you encountered no complications in your way? Despite the clear miscommunication at the end, of course, dear I should’ve let you know about my little creation there…”

You feel a mixture of unease and a strange sense of satisfaction at his words. Deep down, you know that you want it - his twisted form of affection, his praising whenever you succeed at something he longs for. You can’t hold back a sly grin from forming on your lips as a response.

“I dealt with it.” You summed. “No witnesses, and your little creation almost killed me, Albert.” You sigh, and Wesker lets out a wicked soft laugh to your commentary. 

“Nonsense… I’d never let you go to waste like that. Do you really have so little faith in me?” One of his hands slides up from your shoulder, trailing a feather-light touch along your neck; fast enough, a motion of his wraps it up around your neck almost entirely. You feel shivers down your spine and straighten up your posture to the sudden bit of force he applies. 

“No, of course not… All I meant is, it was a complication. I don’t think I’d make it if it wasn’t for you.” You admit, your eyes gleaming through the dim light of the chandelier and gazing through his icy crimson eyes. Wesker’s free hand reaches out for your face, grabbing your cheeks between his fingers in a calm yet firm motion; it lifts your face and now you have no other option but to stare deep into his soul-eating eyes.

“Of course you wouldn’t. But then again, that’s what I was there for, hm?” He moves that bit of your hair from your face, wanting to see some more of you. The obscure gleam his eyes get anytime he lays them onto you is a terrifying feeling; not every man you met had enough power to unsettle you. In fact, none, till Albert. Till much before the weird chemistry and the hidden undertones to every aspect of communication between the two of you became unbearable, and you started falling for his disgraceful tongue, the desirable words he’d use against you. You started delivering yourself even further. If someone asked you when did it come down to becoming his personal object of pleasure - his slut, as he’d say himself, you wouldn’t know how to answer. The truth is, this has been happening for too much time now.

You get apprehensive, yet excited - he’s right. He wouldn’t leave you behind, he’d be right there when you needed him. You’re not that foolish - you know his goals are the highest peak of his life, but you definitely made your way to the top tier of his prized possessions, and you know that because it is for you he looks when he’s in need; it is for you he calls. Is that a good thing?

“Hm… you were keeping track of me all of the time? It didn’t look much like.” You ask, your eyes never really leaving his as they burn you in the gratitude facade he keeps whenever talking to you. You look suspicious for a moment, almost like you don’t believe him, like you accuse him of putting you through this risk. This man is a monster; you fell for those pretty lies he tells you; he plays you like a game, and you for one is having too much fun to let go.

“Oh, but I always am.” His thumb brushes your plump lips lightly, you feel fire spreading up across your thighs, a fluttering feeling brushing the walls inside you; your heartbeat speeds up ever so slightly, fact that doesn’t come unnoticed by his superhuman senses, almost like he can hear it - ba-dum, ba-dum. He smiles, a wicked grin, his laugh came out as a little nasal sigh. “Is this defiance I’m sensing right now? Are you mad at me?”

His demeanor is calm, calculated as it usually is; it doesn’t make you any less apprehensive now. Your heart beats faster. You regret doubting him.

“I’d never. You know so.” You refute, as quickly as you can. Your hand calmly reaches for his wrist, trying to ease the pressure he’s applying onto your cheeks right now; he doesn’t.  

"Then give me a kiss." he purrs, his voice filled with an unsettling cruel sense of amusement from the fear he can sense from you; not too much, not enough to make you run away from him, just enough to remind you of your place here. 

Your body leans towards his tall figure, you're devoid of self-preservation when it comes to him; your hand on his wrist seems to anticipate what comes next, when before you can even reach for his lips, his grip around your neck worsens and the air starts to feel thin around you; he doesn’t choke you enough to make you faint, he likes seeing you struggle, and there you are: this pathetic little thing struggling to find some air through his big slender hand, when he didn’t even bother taking off his gloves to touch you skin to skin.

“Where is my kiss, bunny?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing in a psychopathic face of false pity. You struggle to talk, why do you like this? You feel adrenaline rushing through your veins, the need of winning or at least passing through this game of power he forces you through. “You can’t speak? Pathetic little whore, let me give you some help then.” 

In a sudden and calculated motion, he roughly picks you up by your neck and slams your body against the big dinner table. A cracking sound echoes through the room as his wine glass shatters on the ground, and the chairs move around by his motion. You gag as you desperately look for some air till relief washes over you when he finally loosen up enough so you can pull oxygen in again. You don’t allow a single tear to form in your eyes, no, not yet.

“Now now, I don’t like it when you defy me like this, bunny, just when I complimented your complacency?” He speaks out again while you still try to recompose, slight red handprints appearing across your neck; his red eyes wander over it with a sense of pride, his smile fades like it never existed. He’s sternly piercing at you now, an expression that makes it very clear he pities your struggle.

“It wasn’t my intention, Wesker-” You cough, your gaze following his; your eyes seem to be looking for his although he avoids them for your own torture. Wesker lays his forehead against your shoulder, his free hand lifts the hem of your shirt only enough so he can brush the bare skin of your waist. You thrill, intensely. A weird feeling starts taking over your stomach. “I really thought I’d die in that place.” You admit in a whisper, your voice comes out as a breath that hits hot against his neck skin. As your cheek brushes through his sharp jaw extension, his smell invades your nostrils - male cologne, expensive. 

“You’re suggesting then it was too much for you to handle?” He asks in a whisper against your ear, and you almost let out a warm, low groan in a response.

“No. I can handle it, I can take everything. That’s not- I guess I just-” You interrupt

yourself; his body is way too close to yours, he towers over you, you’re sitting over the edge of that table now with your legs around his waist - you feel something sparkling inside of your belly once again; your core throbs to the simple thought of his proximity to you, his cocks proximity to you. It’s so close, barely there, only a piece of fabric. Your entire body starts feeling weirdly hot, warm, burning desire consuming you as his hand starts pulling you closer, getting rid of any space between the two of you. You can barely breathe right now, What’s with me now? What the fuck…

“You just what, bunny, babbles, rubbish, foolish things, shut up. Talk straight to me.” He orders, and you can sense from his voice tone that he has a devious smile on his face now. Wesker squeezes your waist tight against him, his fingers now digging onto your skin, his lips brushing against your collarbone and you can’t hold the air in your lungs becoming tight in your throat; you let out a needy sigh, a whimper; please undress me. Please, undress me, fuck me, I’m burning up, I can’t take this, please. 

It was at the moment your mind cracked you finally perceived that although you’d tremble just at the thought of Wesker’s cock pushing hard onto your tight walls, that was not a normal reaction of your body. Not by far.

“What did you do to me- ahn.” You ask, your face flushing red, your entire body seems to be out of your control, you’re sweating and catching your breath. He laughs at your weakness. 

His hands start rubbing up your legs, your exposed thighs, grabs tight onto them - his fingers digging like he feels like hurting you today. You moan, incapable of holding your own reactions out; he smirks, raising up your skirt to your waist in a slow, precise motion. Haven’t come to your realization so far, that  you’re not wearing panties.

You can’t be angry at him. You can’t possibly concentrate on anything else but the wave of pleasure you feel at any slight move of his. Wesker pulls his hands back.

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Brushing this needy little cunt of yours against me, you’re wetting my pants, slut.” He reprehends you, standing straight, not moving a muscle now. You look up at him, your eyes shining with need and your mouth watering in, your pussy aching for the touch he denies when he takes his hands off of you.

“Please.” You beg, realizing your hips are pushing against the hardened shape in the bulge of his social pants, staining it with your slick; he barely moves against you, his eyes locked onto your exposed throbbing cunt. 

“You don’t deserve it.” He growls, before his hand palms your navel and starts brushing up your skin to your stomach. Wesker raises the hem of your shirt up enough so he exposes your breasts now and takes a handful of one; without a warning, his grip tightens and you feel your drugged sensitive body squirm in pain, projecting upwards, and your cunt throbs once again as you babble incoherently. “Is my little bunny in heat now?” He whispers against your ear as he bends down to you. 

Thinking you can’t endure another second of this torture, your own hand trails down a path down your belly, and your fingers spread your folds - your middle finger parting them, rubbing at your own knob trying to give yourself some sort of release. He notices what you’re doing by the mewl you let out.

“Disgusting shameless slut…”

His hand grabs yours, stopping you from that momentary relieving pleasure. You whine once again, the heat you feel almost making you come to that very slight touch of his hand against your clit when he holds you. 

“I’m begging.” You pathetically whimper with teary eyes, aching for some more of his touch and as you do, you feel through his pants a throbbing spasm of his stiff cock. His hips push against you willingly this time in a lustful motion and he grunts, expliciting his arousal for seeing you cry. Psychopathic monster. You love that about him. “Wesker, please fuck me. i don’t need anything else just, I- oh-” 

“Shh.” He whispers, and his hand reaches up covering your mouth by grabbing on your cheeks, sushing you, and pushing you sitting up once again. As he does pull back from you, he sits back at the chair you were sitting before, and manspreads; the abrupt motion makes you fall on your knees in between his legs, and he leaves your face. “Earn it.”

You didn’t need a second to start desperately unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants and setting free his long, throbbing length; it swings up and slaps against his navel, craving for you as you take it all in your small hands and start pumping it. 

Wesker’s obscure crimson eyes watch over you as you struggle to fit his shaft in your mouth, a sloppy mess of saliva decorating the corners of your lips - soon enough, you find your way through. You moan against his skin with your mouth full, in slow, delicious movements like you’re having dinner.

He drops his head back, low and deep pleasure moans coming out of his mouth in a hum, almost like he refuses to give you intense reactions; he slaps you in the face, one, two, three times till you’re a mess with strands of your hair glued to your face.

“Oh- that’s right… Swallow me, fuck- stop, hmm- stop.” He groans, before grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you back with contained brutality. “Open up.” He orders, and you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out to him; he gathers some saliva in his mouth and spits it against your tongue, to which you willingly swallow. “Whose slut are you?”

“Yours.” You answer quickly enough, and he smirks, straightening up and tapping his lap. 

“Show me then.” He commands, and you finally and desperately hop on his lap, both thighs around him, your hands looking for support around his shoulders which he quickly refuses by grabbing them both together by the wrists on your back. 

With a move of your own hips and without any kind of tactile support, you guide your entrance onto his cock, your head flying back as you feel the warmth of his tip brushing against your dripping wet folds now; you rub yourself against him a couple times and your legs tremble to the shock of pleasure that quickly ran through your lower belly. Without any patience or restraint left in yourself now, you slide down his hard shaft deep inside your walls until your back meets his thighs. 

Your hips start rolling forward against him, his cock stretching your tight walls, a sound echoing through the dining room each time your skin meets his; he pants, squeezing his jaw and tightening his grasp on your wrists.

“Good fucking bitch- ah- so tight-” He groans, one of his hands grabbing painfully onto your waist and guiding you harder each second, his mouth quickly taking over one of your breasts that swing freely in front of him. 

You swear you’re losing your own conscience when your movements are hard enough for you to feel his tip hitting hard against your womb, a painful but pleasure soft spot for you; he thrusts against you again, again, and again, your mind goes blank and you let out a painful lustful moan as you bury his cock deep within yourself once more - hitting your edge, that point where you start feeling your insides twitching and your clit quivering in your deep orgasm.

“God- fuck!” You feel your legs weaken from both the pleasure and your effort, and Wesker uses his hips to lift you up only enough so he can pump his cock inside you a few more times, his face flushed red in effort, the veins in his temples showing up as he twitches his stomach muscles and feel his body contracting once he finally and deliciously releases his hot cum inside you, in spaced spurts of his cock.

He lets go of your hands as you collapse over him with your body exhausted and a bit dizzy, possibly by a residual effect of the drug he gave to you. You close your eyes for a moment, nearly fainting against his chest; 

Wesker holds you firmly, and slowly pulls out from you, fixing you over his lap trying to keep you steady and you give a little mumble in return, your forehead still a bit sweaty from all the effort and the drug withdrawing from your body, slowly,

“You need to rest, don’t you, bunny?” He asks, standing up and fixing his pants in place as he carries you like a bride around his mansion hallways, his hand slowly rubbing your shoulder in hopes you’ll relax and not experience terrible collateral effects now that the drug one is going away for good. “Let’s see how your body reacts… We need to get you prepared for the experimentation, don’t we?” He asks with a clever smile on his lips.

You can’t catch up with his talking, nor hear what he still has to say to you lastly for your body’s too weak and you’re almost fainting. 

He carefully lays you on his own bed and covers your body, fixing the pillow cozily under your head. He observes you for a couple moments, proudly; 

“You’ll be my best creation…” He mutters, caressing your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Rest well, bunny.”

#albert wesker #wesker #wesker x you #albert wesker x reader #wesker x reader #wesker smut #smut #resident evil fanfiction #albert wesker x you #albert wesker smut #fem reader #female reader

[parmmykitty]

Fuck it we ball

Catman!Wesker x Owner!Reader

I kinda have fallen in love with the Perry the platypus dynamic that Wesker would have with his owner. If you didn't read my first little imagine this might not make perfect sense.

So in Wesker's/Whiskers' S.T.A.R.S. days his owner didn't know that he was working for both Umbrella and the RPD. When they would leave in the morning Whiskers would secretly get dressed in full uniform with a gun and just go to work. Everyone at the RPD obviously knows he's a cat hybrid since he's got cat ears, a tail and whiskers but they didn't know he was a hybrid with an owner. He wears sunglasses to work to hide that he usually gets zoomies throughout the day and and since he can't let that energy out his pupils are constantly dilated. He doesn't want anyone to know that he really wants to just play for most of the workday. At work he acts like a mean house cat that would attack anything that moves, but when he's safe at home with his owner he's a lazy cat who likes to lounge around and sleep all day in the sun.

One day his owner has to visit the RPD to report something (a missing Whiskers perhaps???) and he ends up being the one who has to help them. Wesker is absolutely panicking thinking his cover is blown because it's obviously him but when his owner acts like they've never met him in their life he's a little offended. When he takes his sunglasses off to wipe them his owner finally sees him.

*Removes sunglasses*

"Oh my God! There he is! Where have yo-"

*Puts sunglasses back on*

"Huh? Where'd he go? I could've sworn Whiskers was here just a second ago..."

*Removes them*

"There he is again!"

*Puts them back on*

"Must've been the wind."

Genuinely doesn't know that Albert Wesker and Albert Whiskers is the same person. As they try to give a description of Whiskers to Wesker he starts to blush because of the way they're describing him. (He's just a big baby. I tried to call him back with the sound of the can opener, but he must not have heard it. He's got a cute bushy tail and his eyes get really wide when he wants to play") He decides to actually go home for the first time in a few days that evening (Definitely unrelated to his owner being worried for him! He just felt like it) and is beyond happy to be met with a fluffy blanket and his fancy food when he got home.

#albert wesker x reader #albert wesker #wesker x reader #resident evil wesker #resident evil

[cho-aaacho]

—My Love from the S.T.A.R.S.

Have you ever caught a glimpse of him without sunglasses or seen him with a different hairstyle? It would be a magical moment because, every time he glided to the RPD, he was always seen with slicked-back hair and sunglasses shielding his beautiful facade.

What is he hiding from? Does he have some magical power to keep himself from showing his charm? No one knows.

One day, chaos fell upon the RPD. You could say that. Joseph, with a mischievous giggle, pointed to the entrance and added, "The RPD has been invaded by aliens."

"Perhaps he's someone from the moon, haha," Chris chimed in with a humorous tone.

"Hooo... spooky~" Brad followed and added. "Hey, rookie! Hear me out—"

But...

You buried yourself with the photocopier, sorting papers, and handling documents. You paid little attention to those two men; you don't have time for Chris' jokes.

However, the sound of approaching footsteps, accompanied by a familiar voice, disrupted your routine. "Rookie, I need the report from the last mission—"

A man was standing in front of you, wrapped in a warm turtleneck. His blond hair framed his gorgeous face lovingly, messy but still had charisma left in him. 

His blue eyes are gazing at you with calmness and serenity, but there is still a hint of strictness. He was scanning at you for a while, musing for a moment, trying to find a clue between your eyes.

Blue eyes, simultaneously calm and commanding. Oh... you already know who the owner is.

"Um... who are you?"

"I can't believe you didn't recognize me! I'm your superior, Albert Wesker. What do you mean by who?"

#albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x you #albert wesker fanart #wesker fanart #wesker x reader #wesker x you #resident evil wesker #resident evil albert wesker

[ugetelynx]

Serennedy X The Great Gatsby (work in progress)

Leon S. Kennedy = Nick Carraway

Luis N. = Jay Gatsby / Luis Serra Navarro = James Gats

^ For those confused Jay Gatsby isn’t his real name ! So Luis goes by Luis N. to work with that

Daisy Buchanan = Ada Wong (married Wesker for his money and nothing else basically)

Tom Buchanan (Tom’s a piece of shit btw) = Albert Wesker (Married Ada solely because people kept annoying him about being single)

Jordan Baker = Alice Abernathy

Myrtle Wilson = Jill Valentine

George Wilson = Chris Redfield

^ Married for convenience, besties+ cover ups (Jill has a girlfriend and Chris has a boyfriend, you can imagine from there)

Okay I kinda got the characters sorted, made Wesker not as much of a piece of shit (removed the racist aspects of Tom’s character) so he’s slightly more likable

(A lot of story elements will be the same/extremely similar to the actual books with some major changes)

Major changes:

Luis and Ada are not lovers or exs, instead REALLY close friends and Luis simply wants to get Ada out of her shit marriage

Wesker and Jill are NOT having an affair, Wesker’s having affairs with others. People rumor that the two are having an affair though which pisses both of them off

Ada and Leon aren’t cousins—obviously—rather young adulthood exes who worked out their differences (hence why they’re on good terms)

Leon and Luis are very comfortable in their bisexuality (aka they explored each other’s bodies at least once throughout this) (cause apparently Nick and Gatsby were too coward to do that in the actual story/j)

Ada and Wesker divorce by the end instead of staying together

Ada and Wesker don’t have a kid, but Ada is expecting at some point (she doesn’t have the kid with Wesker, she has the kid after running off with a certain somebody)

Chris isn’t the one who shoots Luis

(Story)

Leon moves to Long Island, New York to get away from home and live by himself. He rents a house in West Egg which happens to neighbor a major estate, whose home owner is none other than Luis N.

Leon finds himself dining with Ada Wong and eventually meets Alice, a “friend” of Ada’s. They’re both at first skeptical of each other, Leon not all that interested in her. After a while Ada confesses that Wesker has a mistress and Ada’s knows about it but doesn’t seem to do anything about it or care all that much.

The same evening, Leon takes a step outside, drink in hand. There he spots Luis standing on his lawn staring at something across the way.

One morning Leon receives an invitation from Luis to attend one of his parties. When he gets there he gets anxious at the fact that he doesn’t know anybody and—not wanting to just go up to somebody and weird them out—he begins drinking.

While drinking, Leon steps outside to get some air. He’s later approached by none other than Luis. Leon can feel his breath catch as this stunning brown haired individual comes up to him, asking him if he liked the party. Leon’s not focused on that though, he’s focused on the warm smile on Luis’ face and gentle eyes looking him up and down. Studying him.

The two chat casually for a bit to Leon’s surprise, and when Leon leaves, he looks back to see Luis watching him the entire time—once again causing him to get hot under the collar.

Sometime July, Leon and Luis have lunch together. Tossing longing glances at each other as Luis tries to desperately impress Leon with old tales of his past, making Leon laugh a couple times. They end off lunch with Luis asking Leon if he’d like to come back home with home, to which Leon disagrees because he’s meeting with Alice about something she wanted to talk about with him away from everybody. Luis nods, understanding albeit disheartened, but Leon makes sure to give Luis a passing kiss on the cheek—thanking him for lunch—before leaving. (And desperately praying nobody saw that)

When Leon meets up with Alice, they sit down for tea. Leon explains how he knows Ada and Alice explains how she does. Alice seems skeptical of Ada’s ex hanging around her, which Leon catches onto and quickly mentions Luis. Alice almost instantly sees right through him, messing with him for going after the rich neighbor as Leon groans in embarrassment. Alice then goes on to explain that Luis and Ada are best friends, which catches Leon’s attention. She explains that Luis has always been very terrified of Ada’s marriage with Wesker, and that he’s been trying to convince her leave him and Alice has been doing the same.

When Leon asks why she won’t when two of her friends are asking too, Alice just flat out says “she’s hoping he dies soon because the dude’s a dick and she can get all his money then run off with m-..somebody.”

Leon’s eyebrows furrow in concern and Alice nods, saying she feels the say skepticism about it. Ada’s a strong woman though, Wesker knows that too so nothing physical ever happens—just a lot of arguments but nothing ever escalates past somebody leaving the house for the night.

That relaxes Leon but granted knowing that Ada’s in a shit marriage regardless has him worried about her.

Throughout the next couple months, Ada is spending less and less time with Wesker and more time at Luis’ house with Alice, Luis, and Leon. All four of which are relaxed enough to show intimacy between their actual lovers (Leon and Alice are using each other as cover ups because they could still be hatecrimed)

Luis laying down on Leon’s chest as Leon runs his fingers through his hair, Alice kissing Ada at random points even in front of the guys (not that they give two shits, theyre just happy to see Ada actually have someone who cares for her)

Ada learns late August, early September that she’s pregnant which terrifies her and is the deciding factor she needs to go through with divorcing Wesker and running off with Alice. So she, Leon, Luis, and Alice all go out to a hotel with Wesker to talk about it sometime mid-September.

It’s late in the evening and hot as hell, making everyone extremely on edge. When Ada finally gets the nerve to tell Wesker she wants a divorce everything goes to shit—yelling, swearing, even breaking stuff ensues. Wesker, not realizing Ada’s been cheating on him with a girl, turns his aggression towards Luis—which causes Leon to step in and put himself between Wesker and Luis who are yelling at each other back and forth; with Wesker accusing Luis of sleeping with Ada (false). Alice put herself between Ada and the others, making sure Ada’s okay who’s more worried about Luis and Leon by this point than herself.

When the heat dies down, Wesker finally agrees to the divorce making everyone relax. He doesn’t look anybody in the eyes as he tells Ada it’s late, and it’s probably a good idea to get home. Ada agrees and turns to Luis, nodding for him to leave with her (after everything she’d rather not expose her relationship with Alice until she’s good as gone.)

Leon and Alice help Wesker clean up, Leon feeling horrible for the staff at the hotel but not feeling as bad when Wesker’s the one paying for the damage. They all go home Wesker’s car with tense and uncomfortable silence.

On the way home they spot Chris talking to a bunch of police officers, Wesker pulls over without a second thought and walks over to Chris after the policeman walk away. Alice stays in the car as Leon gets out to see what the deal was.

He gets close enough to hear Wesker ask what’s happening and Chris replies that Jill was struck by a car, thankfully she’s alive but her leg was crushed in the process. Leon winces at the look on Chris’ face and he swore he saw Wesker’s own expression falter.

Wesker sits down next to Chris, patting him on the shoulder as he asks more questions. Leon’s heart rate spikes as Chris talks about the details of the car—it perfectly matched the description of Luis’ car, the one he and Ada drove home in.

Wesker and Leon exchange looks, both swallowing awkwardly as Wesker pushes himself to his feet. He nods to Leon and Leon, not wanting to argue again, obliges and heads back to the car. Chris and Wesker talked for a while longer before Wesker joins Alice and Leon in the car again.

They drive back to the house, with Wesker heading inside first, offering for Leon and Alice to come in and they politely decline. Wesker seems understanding, nodding and disappearing inside the house.

Leon and Alice take a walk around the house, discussing what could have happened or why they didn’t stop, only to run into Luis hiding in the garden.

He explained the truth, Ada had been the one driving and she tried to swerve at the same time Jill tried to run out of the way to avoid hitting her but it had been too late and they hit her. Ada seemed stone cold; unable to slow the vehicle down as Luis begs her to pull over.

Luis’ shoulders visibly relax when Leon explains Jill is okay just a broken leg. Alice pats Luis on the shoulder, telling him to go home with Leon and she’ll wait around to make sure Ada’s okay.

Leon and Luis walk home, talking. Leon trying to lift Luis’ guilt slightly by the time they’re at Luis’ house. It’s quiet and all the maids and butlers must have gone home already. Leon locks the door behind him and Luis, before grabbing Luis by the hips and pushing him against the wall—lips pressed together. A groan is pulled from Luis’ lips as Leon’s hands drift up his shirt, Leon promising to make him forget the pain of tonight.

The next morning, while still naked on the couch, they wake up to a knock at the door. They quickly throw on their clothes before Luis answers the door. His face lights up as he sees Ada and Alice with Ada’s bags, asking if it’s alright if they stay in one of his spare bedrooms for a few nights which Luis is more than welcome too.

Leon gets started on breakfast while the others help Ada settle into one of the spares.

#Serennedy x TGG #EVERYTHING is subject to change btw!! still very much a work in progress

[bracketsoffear]

Albert Wesker (Resident Evil) "Wesker is the final result of a eugenics program looking to create the perfect specimens of humanity to inherit the Earth after all inferior humans have been wiped out by manufactured viruses and bio-organic weapons. He's additionally superpowered by one of these viruses, tailored to his specific genetics. Wesker creates the Uroboros virus which he intends to unleash upon humanity, with a survival rate of "one in ten million," to rule as a god over the new world born from the carnage. Worth noting that anyone who would manage to survive Uroboros would also probably turn into a goopy tendril monster as is typical for the RE franchise, so there's the more specific "not us" aspect of the Extinction as well. But yeah one in ten million leaves less than a thousand people total alive so."

Miranda Pryce & Marcus Cutter (Wolf 359) "Owners of a company that studies multiple branches of science, they mean to spread a virus that'll kill everyone on the earth, to replace them with an alien race that can replicate exactly the person, but stronger and more durable. They can also be controlled by p&c, following all of their orders. While there's some web elements, they are also extinction because they mean to completely eradicate the human race and replace it with something else."

#extinction poll #the magnus archives #the extinction #resident evil #wolf 359 #poll

[mishwanders]

Chapter Three [No.031]: Animal Impulses

Pairing: Albert Wesker x GN!Cannibal Reader

Warnings: more restraints (Wesker really likes to tie up reader), Wesker gets pinned, reader tries their hardest not to bite him.

Summary: You inspect your new home and Wesker surprises you.

Read On AO3 [ X ]

After your little discussion on the house rules and the ‘research’, Wesker allowed you to roam the house a bit on your own while he attended to some other concerns in his office. If you had to be honest, it was nice having a small break from him. His scent was ripping you to shreds inside, your animal impulses almost kicked in on the car ride, ready to rip that metal screen down and take a bite into his throat.

You also realized how much you hated being in the city itself. All of the lights, blaring horns, and the scents that were infiltrating the car - it was all so overwhelming and your head had been pounding like a drum. You were thankful that he lived somewhere tucked away from it all. At least you could get some peace and quiet over here.

You walked up the stairs, making your way to the upper story of the house, walking down the hall, taking a look at the rooms. You found a large bathroom with a separate tub and walk-in shower, a master bedroom, and a spare room with a guest bed. It all seemed rather normal for a person like him, so you made your way back down stairs, walking into the large kitchen. It was odd how normal it all felt while still being very sterile. It was almost as bad as the lab you had just left. You wondered why he kept it like this. Was it because he was hardly ever here in the first place or was he just really freaked out by germs? You shook your head. Couldn’t be the last one, he works for Umbrella of all places, that’s their whole thing. Regardless, it was rather boring here, so you left the room and made your way back to the stairwell.

You wandered around more, happening to find a door underneath the stairs. Your curiosity was piqued, so you opened it, finding a lone hanging light in front of you. You flipped the switch turning it on to find a flight of stairs descending down below to a concrete basement. You looked back out towards Wesker’s office, seeing the door was still closed. You took another look down there, making sure that nothing suspicious was about to come up before you turned the light back off and closed the door.

“Nope.” You whispered, “Not doing any of that.”

You felt a hand creeping up on your shoulder, grabbing hold of you. You grabbed it, twisting the arm of the owner before proceeding to tackle them to the ground, straddling over them and pinning their hands above their heads.

You looked down to realize that it was Wesker below you. He grimaced after hitting the floor so hard with his head. He attempted to move out of your grip, but you refused to let him go, tightening your grip, and keeping him down in his place. Your senses were taking over once again, the scent of him reaching your nose, infiltrating your lungs. Your mouth watered, the craving was coming back again. You did your best to fight your urges, starving off the animal impulses. You couldn’t lose control, not right now.

“Don’t sneak up on me.” You muttered, “That’s a damn good way to get yourself killed.”

“Noted.” He replied.

He watched you intently, taking in how you looked as you fought your impulses.

“I’m curious, what’s stopping you from taking a bite right now? I can see how badly you want to.”

“Because I need you.” You replied, “If you’re gone, I know they’ll come for me too. I’m in no place to be on my own. Not right now.”

“You’re a smart one.” He said with a smirk, “Smarter than Marcus ever gave you credit for.”

That took you by surprise. You never expected him to compliment you. You wondered if it was his way of getting you out of your head, appealing to a part of you that some would consider to be human. Whatever he was doing, it worked. You felt the pull on you lessen, even though his scent was still filling your lungs, appealing to your cravings. But you were able to let go of him, allowing him to move his hands away, sitting up with you still in his lap. You were trembling as you continued to force yourself to calm down, taking deep breaths. He reached his hands up to your face, caressing your cheeks. You wanted to do everything in your power to pull away, afraid that your animal impulses would win this time, but you didn’t, allowing him to hold you there, inspecting you.

He never said a word, he just continued to inspect you like a little experiment, taking in all of the little pieces of your face, the imperfections that dotted your skin. It was becoming rather irritating, the silence was almost as deafening as the pounding of your heart in your chest.

“What is it?” You asked

“Nothing. I’m just taking the chance to have a close look at you.” He replied

“Still treating me like an experiment?”

“That’s what you are. But I’m just noticing how human you still look, even with the viruses running rampant in your system. It’s intriguing.” He said, “it’s like you’re still trying to hold onto your humanity.”

“No.” You replied, “Not humanity. I’m trying to survive. That’s all.”

He smirked at you.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Depends. What do the normal ones do?” You asked

He chuckled at you, “I wouldn’t know. Never really been one of them myself, no matter how easy it is to play the part.”

“Is that what this is? Just a part to be played?”

“Isn’t that what life’s about? Play the part to get what you want?” He asked

“You have an odd way of looking at life.” You commented

“And you have an odd way of living it.” He replied

“Wasn’t my fucking choice.” You muttered, “Umbrella made sure of that.”

“And they played a part to get what they wanted.” He said, “How interesting. It just comes back around in a circle.”

You rolled your eyes at him, getting tired of this little game he was playing with you. You took his hand in yours, removing them from your face.

“Where the hell am I sleeping tonight?” You asked, trying to change the subject.

You followed his gaze directly at the door behind you. The one that led down to the basement. You looked back at him, disappointed.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” You said

“I wish I was, but you have yet to prove to me that we can both make it through the night without you acting out on your impulses. It’s the safest place we can keep you for now.” He explained

You were about to ask him who it was safe for, but you knew the answer already. It was safer for both of you. As long as he was alive, he would take care of you and as long as you were alive, he could get what he wanted.

You slid off of his lap, allowing him to stand up, then followed him over to the door, going in first down the stairs, all the way to the concrete basement. There was nothing down here except for the stairs, a water heater, and a group of blankets and pillows all thrown on the floor, with chains connected to the wall. You shook your head and laughed at the situation you had now found yourself in. He raised an eyebrow and looked at you.

‘What’s so funny?” He asked

“I just keep getting out of one prison and jumping head first into another.” You replied, “This feels like something that would happen in a horror movie.”

“Think of it less like a horror movie and more like an extra precaution. You are the danger here, don’t forget that. Besides, if all goes well, and you’re able to control yourself, you won’t have to stay down here long.” He explained, “Until then, this will be where you sleep.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of sleep sitting heavily on your body. You moved towards the blankets and pillows, getting it the way that felt at least a little bit comfortable for you before he made his way over, kneeling down before you and putting on your shackles and collar. When he was done he took one good look at you in your state. He took a bold move and ruffled your hair.

“Sleep tight, pet.”

You glared at him as he left you there, irritated by his comment. He knew how to get under your skin with his words just as much as his silence. It was something you wished you could do with your teeth. You watched him leave you behind, turning off the light as he locked you away in the darkness. You laid back on the pillows, letting out a sigh as you closed your eyes. You had to get yourself in check to get out of this room, that was your only option. The question was, how?

You shook your head, trying not to obsess over it now. You were already down here for the night, you could plot later in the daylight. For now you needed rest, you needed sleep.

You just needed some peace.

Chapter Two: Desire

Chapter Four: You’ve Created A Monster

#resident evil fic #resident evil fandom #resident evil fanfiction #dead by daylight wesker #albert wesker x you #albert wesker x reader #wesker x reader #dbd wesker #albert wesker #resident evil wesker #re wesker #stars wesker #s.t.a.r.s. wesker #s.t.a.r.s. #re0 #re1 #resident evil 0 #resident evil #resident evil 1 #the devils teeth #series: the devil’s teeth

[gothghostiie]

currently obsessed with the thought of Wesker’s pet not being allowed to speak without his permission. Maybe it’s as simple as keeping their mouth shut, or maybe he has a gag locked on their head that only he has the key to. Either way if they wish to speak to their Master they have to ask him with their eyes. My favorite idea is that to tell him you’ve got something to say, you nudge your face into his hand or nuzzle him, maybe a little inquisitive whine. But speaking out of turn will get you punished quite swiftly. He has to make sure he’s trained all the nasty habits out of his precious pet, yes?

oooo yes yes yes.

he definitely keeps you without any gag at first but of course poor little you keeps forgetting:( so he has to train you!! putting a gag into your mouth, fuck he might even give you treats if you ask before speaking in any way. petting your head while slipping a treat through the ring gag, smiling as he watches you struggle to eat it!! hes so pleased whenever you nuzzle or paw at him before asking him something, always makes his heart flutter

#pet owner wesker #gothghostiie #ask ghostiie #albert wesker #resident evil #dead by daylight #wesker #dbd #albert wesker x reader #nsft

[bluedivvy]

Resident Evil Quarry AU:

Resident Evil Zero and Resident Evil (posting these in 2 parts since most games are connected that way)

gonna be completely honest, i dont know much about resident evil 0 but from the little knowledge i have of the game i added it to fit into the story. created in 1978 by professor james, leeches were released to create the W-virus. they were made with the intent to infect people with their bite and turn them into werewolves to create separate hosts. bravo team, members of the stars police forces, were sent into the arklay mountains to investigate a series of murders. their helicopter crashes due to an engine failure and discover a separate police force, including files of billy coen, a convicted murderer that they assume caused the unknown deaths in the range. they split up to find the man, however rebecca discovers a train and meets billy coen, who ends up helping her discover the unknown threat. they fight against the "man-eaters" otherwise known as werewolves that overrun the train, including a large scorpion and later a tyrant werewolf (the scorpion remains a scorpion because it was part of umbrella's research into arachnid-based bio-weaponry).

meanwhile, stars alpha team were sent into the arklay mountains to investigate the bravo team's disappearance. they arrived on a full moon, lost in the wooded darkness of the highlands. albert wesker, field leader, escorted alpha team across the arklay range until they were attacked by a large, feral creature, otherwise a werewolf. they fled inside the spencer mansion after brad vickers took advantage of the helicopter and left. however, in that short period of time, chris redfield had gone missing and the remaining members searched the mansion for him. after uncovering a series of letters, notes and clues left behind by the estates' owners, jill valentine learned about the werewolf virus and crafted silver ammo to go against them. she found the remaining bravo team, some turned to werewolves and others on the brink of death, and saved the remaining member, rebecca chambers. alpha team found chris and uncovered wesker's plan that set up their demise and betrayed the team. after fighting the tyrant werewolf, the team fled the arklay range and assumed wesker's death.

a very poor representation of the tyrant werewolf. they were werewolves reimagined by umbrella to make them stronger and more advanced. this one is called T-002 and was created in the arklay lab. its basically a gigantic, veiny, warted werewolf with exposed heart and organs (not very smart umbrella) its most notable feature is its large claws

#pls guys im so autistic #the quarry #resident evil #albert wesker #jill valentine #chris redfield #rebecca chambers #billy coen #werewolves #quarry werewolves

[autisticsupervillain]

Irredeemable Ladder Complete!

Albert Wesker has officially been voted as being eviler than every villain in the Dread X Collection!

The character that came the closest to beating him was Gallagher in a near 30/60 split.

#complete monster #cm: irredeemable #albert wesker #resident evil #dread x collection #dread xp #toy shop owner #brother silence #the blood mage #the curator #gallagher #michael krieger

[assignmentimprobable]

Back at it again and one thing I want to say following the release of IWTV AMC is that the context surrounding a character’s racial swap in horror is what makes or breaks the whole thing.

Analysis below the cut. 

TW for discussions of racism, violence, and eugenics. 

Light spoilers for IWTV (2022)

Let me explain using an example that doesn’t work. Albert Wesker in the Netflix Resident Evil series. Albert Wesker is a eugenicist. Eugenics is a field framed by white supremecist views and anti-disability beliefs. It feels… Wrong, to race swap him to use those frameworks as is in line with his character without any meaningful effort to address the subject or say anything important about it. It’d be different if the story tackled the idea that hierarchies based in racialized science are often enforced by members of the communities that they harm (that’s how they survive.) through respectability politics and exceptionalism, but Wesker is just? A villain. That’s it. It ends there.

Now let’s use an example that works. Candyman, acted superbly by Tony Todd. He was a white man with red hair in the original short story by Clive Barker. But we don’t care because the recontextualization of his story is constructed in a way that… idk, for lack of better word actually shows an active dedication to what choice is being made, and how it is carried out. Is it racist that a black man is chasing around a white woman and terrorizing her? Yes, at it’s nature because of the history of deaths that followed false accusations during the era of Jim Crow and the Black Codes. However, Candyman is loved by the black community. Why? Because he’s sympathetic, because he’s charming, because his power is given in the wake of something awful and not even remotely uncommon for black people living in his time. Because he’s handsome and debonair and speaks with a voice like honey. There’s this great documentary called Horror Noire: A History of Black Horror that I recommend you check out if you’re interested in seeing the topography of the genre and it’s continued cultural relevance.

Candyman works because of the setting around it: gentrification and hood poverty. How myths and horrors can float around in poverty stricken communities because honestly? What’s one more when you’re facing hunger and state indifference and violence to survive? Helen‘s critical mistake was assuming that Candyman was some mass-delusion to blame squalor on a boogeyman. Like no bitch. The Candyman stories flourish in these places because of the desensitization to horror that living in an environment with them brings. Also, centering Candyman himself: His subsequent backstory and the 2021 entry to the series do so much to lend sympathy to his character. There’s a retroactive reason he’s enamored with Helen, and we see that racist violence and cruelty made him what he is. A painter in love turned something that white people invoked- that’s why he’s Candyman. The projects didn’t name Candyman, the white people who tortured him to death did. We can sympathize with him, we can ask why Helen felt so compelled to interrupt the lives of this community. For what? To be some white savior? To chase a study in intellectualism, knowing she can go home and forget them? She fucked around and found out. Enter Candyman.

So why does it work for Louis?

Well, let’s take a look at his book counterpart.

Being half black I can’t sympathize with book Louis. I don’t give a fuck about what he’s been through. Seriously. He was a slaver. There’s no such thing as a benevolent slave owner, you have human beings as currency and *chattel*. His framing as the hypocritical, but more compassionate and empathetic of the duo is something I can’t buy. That’s not something I can overlook, it takes me out of the enjoyment. I cannot separate that from his character to enjoy him for what he’s supposed to be.

AMC Louis? completely different story. By introducing blackness to his character, you are creating what is supposed to be the ‘monster’ as is the genre’s convention, but not a *monster*. He’s infinitely more compelling, more complex as a well-to-do eldest son of an affluent black family struggling with the racial hierarchy, his sexuality; and the judgment that comes with these two categorical assignments. He’s dealing with the lapse of generational wealth- something that many black people have not had the opportunity to build to the level of glut that white affluent families have. Often all it takes is ONE generation of bad decisions to lose it all because one or in the luckiest cases: two generation’s worth is the most for many who find their footing. Louis can’t be himself. He has to be tough but infinitely patient and well mannered to appeal to his white business partners. He can’t be angry, but he must be rough for fear that he’ll be walked all over. He’s judged for the very thing that keeps his family in their comfort. He’s not free to emotionally engage with art because of what kind of policing results from being a black man AND a queer man. Those two distinctions overlap and create a separate experience that people refuse to really put an understanding to? Like people put a monolith to queerness that has its defaults in white convention. White butches and twinks and bears and hunks. The colloquial y’all don’t have to deal with how your race informs the behaviors that people ascribe to queerness. 

When Louis read his mother’s mind and heard her disgust over the simple act of *getting his nails done* i couldn’t help but think about conversations among the black elders when they see the little boys acting even a little outside their norms. “He’s got a little sugar in the tank”, “you need to snap him out of that, make sure he doesn’t grow up a punk”. Some of that is garden variety homophobia, but so much of it is also how much crueler life is when you’re black and you’re gay. The racial hierarchy exists in the communities it subjugates and it maintains racial norms of what black men are supposed to act like. Louis is bound to that.

That kind of context makes it easier to sympathize with Louis and feel his pain. It lends itself well to his relationship with Lestat and the balance they’re supposed to strike. Lestat, a white man, is able to kill as he does because his whiteness gives him carte Blanche to see himself superior to ‘humans’. Whiteness, the construction, incentivizes putting people into categories of ‘other’ and situating yourself at the top. ‘Humans’ replace ‘blacks’. Of course he doesn’t care that he’s taking human beings out of this world, of course he takes delight in the killing. Vampirism gives him the tools to do what the world (the social stratosphere, the *law*) already encourages and incentivizes white men to do completely unimpeded! People don’t like to talk about it, but like the Vampire genre lends itself a little too well to capitalist greed and colonial wealth hoarding. Louis does not, and has never had access to these tools. Of course he is horrified, of course it is unnatural to him. Of course the transition is difficult! That makes the divide between them so interesting. That’s what makes this change for Louis’ character so good.

Context *matters* if you’re going to reclaim a character in this genre. Race swaps in action and fantasy? 

Nah, you don’t need a reason lmao fuck y’all. Black MJ, Black Ariel, Black Catwoman, Iris West, and Jim Gordon for life idgaf idgaf idgaf. 

Anyways. If your character has a storied history of racist belief or politics, and the change will fundamentally alter the fabric of how the story is carried out then writers have an obligation to accommodate and write carefully around it. Which I think they’ve done here in the series so far. I’m excited to see what happens next. 

#interview with the vampire #iwtv series #Louis de pointe du lac #candyman #stevie speaks

[arklay]

seeing stars.

pairing: diana x albert wesker words: 7.0k warnings: migraine, nausea and vertigo, brief mentions of food and alcohol, internalised ableism [read on ao3] — [part one]

A long exhale sounded from the en suite bathroom. It wasn’t one of relief. No, it was strained, wavering as it left parted lips – the evidence of a day riddled with nothing but stress.

Wesker slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the mirror from how he had hung his head, his hands resting on either side of the basin. The figure behind his reflection caught his eye instantly – dark hair a stark contrast to the white doorframe its lovely owner was leaning against. She was simply watching him with this faint, barely-there frown strewn about her features.

Despite being rather annoyed at Diana for sneaking up on him, or more so at himself for not noticing she had done so, he was glad she had kicked off her heels under the dining table. The last thing he needed right now was the shrill clicking of those awful things on the tile floor.

His head already felt like it had been put in a vise and someone was turning the handle; he didn’t need more noise to aggravate it.

“Where are your glasses?” Diana asked, and Wesker could only wonder if he’d imagined the worry clinging to the edge of her voice.

Could she tell he was in pain? That his sunglasses weren’t just some fashion statement people liked to tease him for? Had she put two and two together so easily when most were too dense to?

Wesker’s eyes darted up to lock on to hers in the mirror, though for only a split second, before he looked down again with a small huff. “I don’t know.”

He’d truly had a shocking day. It had been one thing after another, and at some point he had taken his glasses off to rub his eyes then forgot to put them back on. It wasn’t like him to misplace his belongings, and certainly not his shades, of all things, but the stressors piling up ensured the whereabouts of where he’d set them down slipped his mind faster than he thought possible.

It had all started with that pig, Brian Irons. The initial cause of his foul mood. That poor excuse of a man had proven himself to be a thorn in Wesker’s side time and time again; the police chief thought he could undermine those ensuring his unsavoury past was kept under wraps, but Wesker wasn’t going to stand for such insolent behaviour. He made sure to discuss the issue with William during his visit to the NEST around lunchtime, calling for a shorter leash.

However, the day only seemed to continue to go downhill once he’d returned to the station.

The problem wasn’t simply the piles of reports taking up space on his desk; the image of Diana wouldn’t leave his mind. He shouldn’t have stopped by her lab with coffee and spoken to her at all. He needed his focus to be solely on his work. The way she could capture his attention was quite bothersome, really. And that prompted a rather foolish decision on his part – a phone call with plans for dinner.

It didn’t end there. The newest S.T.A.R.S. recruits were a headache in and of themselves, yet getting a call from Sherry’s school the moment he left work had been the icing on the cake. She hadn’t been picked up hours beforehand, and being the next emergency contact, Wesker was informed of such incompetence.

William’s obsession with the G-Virus was getting out of hand. He’d always been more preoccupied with his work than the people around him, but forgetting to pick Sherry up from school was something else. Something Wesker didn’t quite like.

Not to mention it completely ruined his plans for the night.

With a suppressed clearing of her throat, Diana pulled him back to the present. She pushed herself off of the doorframe and made her way closer towards him. “Would you like me to look for them?”

Wesker shook his head and immediately regretted it; the sudden movement made him wince as a short wave of splitting pain made itself known right behind his left eye, causing him to grip the edge of the counter until his knuckles went white. The pain wasn’t unbearable yet, and he was glad his typical nausea seemed to be at bay, but he had no clue how long that would last. Not long, if he had to guess, given his luck with the rest of the day’s events.

Taking a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, he steadied himself. With each count, he found it easier to tolerate the ache, though it didn’t subside in the slightest. It would have to do though; he needed to get through his nighttime routine.

He reached over and slowly pulled his toothbrush out of its holder, making sure to not move more than what was necessary.

“No.”

Wesker glanced up at the mirror again with one of his brows quirked in genuine confusion, and he watched as Diana’s reflection inched closer. Then her hands were covering his. Why he found himself frozen at her touch was beyond him, but her soft fingers pressing against his skin was a welcome sensation.

She only pried the toothbrush and paste out of his grasp, far more gently than she needed to, then she placed them back to where they belonged.

“You are obviously unwell. You don’t need to brush your teeth when you feel like this,” she said, voice soft and oddly soothing, as opposed to the hammering against his skull.

Diana took Wesker’s hands in her own again, and her thumbs brushed along the raised veins on the backs of them in slow circles. It wasn’t just comforting to him, it was familiar, intimate, and the point at which he’d begun to embrace her touch rather than shun his craving for it was lost on him.

Her eyes finally landed on his own and she directed a small nod towards the door, making him aware of what she was about to do next. Then she took a step back. Then another. And she carefully pulled him along with her, guiding him towards his bedroom without so much as a word from him. Wesker couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, and with how tired he was, he could only let her take the lead. She seemed to have her mind set on making sure he would rest, and that made his chest feel much too tight.

It was almost as if she cared.

The trip to the foot of his bed felt much longer than usual. Diana’s cautious approach made sure of that. He was not intoxicated; she didn’t need to hold his hands and ensure he put one foot in front of the other. And yet she did. He felt like an absolute fool, but he still let her pull him along, regardless.

Once there, Diana sat him down on the edge before she quickly knelt down in front of him, tucking her legs beneath herself as she did so. Her attention went straight towards his boots and deft hands worked to untie their laces.

Wesker couldn’t quite wrap his head around her behaviour. He wasn't sure what to think. On any other day, he would’ve thought her kneeling between his legs quite amusing, especially with how she kept roughly pushing her stubborn tresses that kept falling in front of her face back behind her ears. But his head hurt far too much, and there was just this horrible warmth searing through his chest and up his neck, settling across his cheeks and threatening to join the burning at his temple.

The question in her eyes whenever she’d glance up at him certainly wasn’t helping either. It was almost wary, as though looking for permission to continue. Or perhaps assurance.

Her fingers wrapped around his ankle, carefully grasping it as she pulled off his boot. That made him feel far too odd, but she only repeated the action with its counterpart. He was thankful for the way she placed them next to one another by his bed though, all nice and neat, instead of simply tossing them to the side like anyone else would.

Diana pushed herself up off of the floor using her palms and moved to stand between his legs. Soft hands reached forward to cradle his face, the cool pads of her thumbs brushing along the high points of his cheeks. But she was only looking into his eyes, searching for… something.

He wasn’t quite sure what she was doing, to be completely honest. However, the repetitive movement along his cheekbones was calming, almost strangely so, and he hated that his eyes threatened to flutter shut and his hands itched to reach out and hold onto her sides – perhaps even pull her closer, if he dared.

How could she draw such a reaction from him? Especially given the circumstances.

The last thing Wesker needed was for her to look at him like he was some injured animal; he didn’t want her pity. It was enough that he let her drag him out of the bathroom when he was in the middle of carrying out his routines, as though he was caught in some sort of trance. But to look at him in such a way, to help him undress… It was ridiculous. He didn’t need to be fussed over.

Wesker reached up and closed his hands around her wrists. His grip was tight, though not enough to hurt her – merely cautionary, much like the glare he sent her way. Astute as she was, he had no doubt she would get the message.

Diana’s fingers fell away from his cheeks, curling in on themselves, but she didn’t move to break the distance between them. She only continued to hold his gaze, eyes still scanning his own in search of some answers, even as he loosened his hold on her wrists.

It had been wishful thinking, anyhow; he should’ve known she’d remain defiant.

Wesker pulled her hands further away from his face while he slowly rose to his feet. Then he let go, making them drop to her sides in a rather lifeless fashion. He didn’t miss the question in her eyes, or the way a crease formed between her brows, but he simply focused on manoeuvring around her towards his dresser – unsuccessfully at that, as his side brushed against hers with how he staggered.

Movement made the pain behind his eye considerably worse. The familiar sensation of tiny knives stabbing, leaving puncture wounds in their wake to obscure his vision, made it incredibly hard to keep his eyes open any longer. Wesker took a deep breath to try and steady himself, keeping as still as could be so as to not cause himself more pain. If only for a moment of relief.

One of his hands settled on the surface of the dresser while the other moved to open a drawer. He hoped Diana didn’t see how he fumbled with the pull handle. He wasn’t even sure why that bothered him. But he moved to correct his error far too quickly, causing him to lose balance slightly.

The sight of plain black, white and grey t-shirts folded up and sorted by tone brought some level of structure back to the chaos that had been Wesker’s day, and it pleased him more than it probably should have. The shirts were simply for when he was too cold to sleep shirtless – he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them casually, otherwise – and he removed one from its designated place for himself, and one for Diana.

The next drawer he opened contained his pyjama pants, all monochromatic and devoid of patterns, akin to his shirts. Just the way he liked. There were a couple of blue pairs though. Not like that mattered; he chose black, as usual.

A tired sigh left him then.

“Diana.” The sound of her footsteps crossing the distance between them seemed to reach him later than when they’d occurred, because she was already standing at his side. Wesker simply handed her the t-shirt he’d chosen for her, then he spoke again without looking her way, “Would you like pants?”

Diana chuckled at that, and the corner of his lips twitched. He treasured that sound. Well and truly treasured it.

“I doubt anything will fit me,” she whispered, the smile in her voice telling him she was trying to subdue her laugh.

“You have long legs.”

She let out a low, sweet hum at his dry response and positioned herself behind him, lifting her chin to rest it on his shoulder as she watched his hands comb through the pairs of pants in the drawer below. It was clear to Diana that he wouldn’t find anything that would fit her, considering she was barely two thirds the width of him, but she let him figure that out for himself. Instead, her hands ran down his sides and towards his hips. She stood on tiptoe to press a lingering kiss to his cheek while one of her hands travelled between them.

“Doesn’t change that you have more hips than I do,” Diana said between another kiss, tone playful, while her hand squeezed a handful of his firm backside.

Wesker reached behind himself and swatted her hand away, but he couldn’t stop the slight chuckle that bubbled up in his throat before it escaped him – one that mirrored her own. Her arms changing position, wrapping around his waist with her chin settling against his shoulder once more, was not what he expected in response, however. The feeling that brought up inside of him was not something he wished to confront tonight.

He needed to place more distance between them.

“Drawstrings.” Wesker held up a pair of pants that could be tightened at the waist, negating her claims that there couldn’t possibly be anything of his that may stay up for her.

Diana held back another sigh as she loosened her arms and plucked the pants from his grasp. Their short moment of joking around certainly didn’t last long, but she wasn’t sure why she even expected it to. It wasn’t the time or place, but she simply didn’t know how to deal with the situation at hand; it was always difficult for her to navigate when someone wasn’t feeling well.

On the other hand, Wesker was none the wiser to Diana’s inner turmoil. He only withdrew from her slack embrace and returned to where he’d been sitting at the end of the bed earlier, entirely focused on ridding himself of the rest of his work clothes. Without her interference.

Nothing seemed to be in his favour today though, because the moment his hips met the bed the entire room began to spin. It wasn’t like he had sat down too fast – or maybe he had finally lost his bearings – but the way the room was warping around him with stars dancing across his vision caused him to squeeze his eyes shut. His teeth ground together of their own accord and he cursed himself for it as that only amplified the pain at his temple.

All Wesker could do was turn his attention towards the buttons of his shirt, trying to ground himself as best he could by focusing on the feeling of one beneath his fingertips. The way the edges pressed against his skin as he pushed the button through its assigned opening felt so much sharper than usual. And it didn’t help that he fumbled on the first go.

“Let me help you.”

The almost desperate plea from the voice across the room couldn’t have come from Diana. Surely. Not even the distinct accent and low, gravelly quality of it could convince him; she had never done such a thing, never sounded like that, even when he’d reduced her to ruins in bed.

The Diana he knew wasn’t so willing to offer assistance.

Wesker scoffed, perhaps a bit too harsh judging by the frown he received, and only roughly unfastened the next button on his shirt. “I do not need your help.”

Oh, how he wished that were true.

The bile burning the back of his throat begged to differ. And it was getting increasingly difficult to just keep his eyes open, like his lids were being weighed down by some invisible force.

The soft sound of a zipper made Wesker glance over to where Diana stood, only to watch as her skirt pooled around her feet. His hands paused what they were doing as his eyes lazily wandered over her, mesmerised by the way she was carefully rolling her tights down her long legs. It wasn’t until she moved on to her shirt and made quick work of the overpriced garment that he shook himself free of her spell. To say she was stunning was frustratingly accurate.

She stripped down to nothing but her panties before pulling his massive t-shirt over her tiny frame, adjusting her hair the minute it was over her head. That shouldn’t have made him smile to himself. The thought that she was cute shouldn’t have even crossed his mind in the first place.

It wasn’t that long ago when he’d considered her vain for constantly worrying about her appearance, and the first time she had worn one of his shirts he had thought she looked absolutely ridiculous – comical, even. It was only endearing now. He chose not to look too close into that change, convincing himself that the pain he was in was simply making him delirious.

Fuck, he just wanted to go to sleep. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to close this day and reset in the morning.

Despite struggling with each one, Wesker managed to finish undoing the buttons of his shirt and he weakly shrugged it off of his shoulders. It went no further than that, however, even with another attempt. The motion only made his stomach lurch, like waves roiling at sea.

A defeated sigh left him at that, but he was too tired to fight it. He must have made for a pathetic sight, one he wished there was no one present to witness.

That would’ve been grand, if he was so fortunate. Diana was standing in front of him again after dropping the pants in her grasp and crossing the distance in only a few quick strides. Before he could protest once more, she reached forward and laid her hands flat against his shoulders; cold fingers dipped beneath material, causing a shiver to run through his entire body, before she gently pushed the sleeves down his arms. It was unnecessary, but Diana held his forearm as she pulled the sleeve off by grasping the cuff, making sure to not turn his shirt inside-out.

He’d kiss her for that if his head didn’t feel like it was going to explode at any minute.

As soon as she freed him of his undershirt with the same meticulous care, Diana returned to what she had started earlier, before Wesker had stopped her. This time around he wasn’t nearly as tense when she took his face in her hands. In fact, it was the most at ease he had felt all day.

The chill of her palms provided some relief to the burning beneath his skin and the stabbing behind his eye. Even if it was only for a moment – until his cheeks warmed her hands and ripped that pleasant sensation away from him.

The only difference from when they’d found themselves in this position earlier was that Diana now leaned down to place a brief kiss on his lips. Wesker expected some level of warmth in her gaze once she pulled away, but he was only met with the look someone would have when scolding a child who had just hurt themselves on the playground.

If she was insinuating that he was being childish, they’d have a whole other problem on their hands.

Diana readjusted her hold to cradle his face in a more secure manner, fingers pressing firm against his skin. “I know you don’t want my help, but I will not see you make yourself sick because you are too stubborn to let someone look after you.”

Wesker glared up at her. Well, he hoped it was a glare, because whatever left him was all that he could muster in his state. From the way one of Diana’s brows raised, he sure did something, even if he had no idea if it was what he had intended.

They simply looked into one another’s eyes, holding the steady gaze for far too long – a familiar occurrence that usually took place when she challenged him. He supposed it was the other way around this time. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her help, it was that he didn’t want anyone’s. He thought himself above that, and he had managed being in this position countless times before. Even if on some of those days he had gone to sleep without being able to change his clothes.

Perhaps he needed some help.

“Fine.” Wesker relented with a long blink, and allowed himself to settle against her touch and relax some more.

That earned him a faint smile from Diana before she leaned in again. His eyes fluttered shut out of habit, but her lips didn’t connect with his own. Instead, they landed on his forehead, and his moment of ease faded away instantly, his hands balling into fists at his sides the longer she lingered there.

The pit in his stomach seemed to lessen when she withdrew and dropped to her knees again. But his head felt absurdly heavy without her hands holding it up. There was too much running through his mind, it was getting overwhelming. And it wasn’t just the hammering at the side of his skull. He wanted her but he tensed up at her touch, he needed her but he hated her assistance, he… He shouldn’t have invited her over tonight.

What had he been thinking?

Slender fingers curling into the waistband of his pants pulled Wesker from his thoughts, and he looked down at Diana, who had glanced up at the same time with that question in her eyes once more, asking if it was alright to continue. He simply nodded and she focused her attention back to what she was doing; he even lifted his hips to allow her to pull his pants off. Whenever she had dealt with the button and zipper eluded him.

He despised that – the feeling that he was no longer in control, losing his vigilance as the pain distracted him too much. It wasn’t just that though, the woman before him also played a part in causing his dazed state.

It was strange. Wesker couldn’t recall ever having a lover treat him like this. She wasn’t telling him that he was going to be okay, that she was there for him, or any of that superficial nonsense. She was just assisting him, doing whatever needed to be done so that he would be comfortable enough to hopefully get some sleep. It brought about another dreadful sensation to the mix already pestering him.

He lifted a hand and placed it over Diana’s when she reached for the t-shirt he had haphazardly dropped on the bed when the vertigo had hit him. She only looked down at his large hand enveloping hers for a moment, seeming to be the one stunned now. Then her eyes finally darted up to his face, and the steely determination in them from before melted away into that look that unsettled him far more.

“I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?” she asked, a slight trace of a chuckle clinging to the edge of it, as though she was almost embarrassed by her behaviour.

Wesker let out what was probably supposed to be a laugh in response, but little more than an exhale came out. “No.”

He paused as his next words died on his tongue. Or more accurately, they didn’t seem to want to leave his throat and even get that far. Diana was none the wiser and just rose to her feet, hand slipping free of his own and taking the t-shirt with it. Wesker chewed on the inside of his cheek for but a fraction of a second before he swallowed his pride.

A sharp inhale, then he lifted his head to look up at her. “Thank you.”

The genuine smile that crossed Diana’s face made him feel far too warm, like the sun was bearing down on his skin and reaching the deepest parts of him; it wasn’t quite a grin, teeth staying hidden, but the corners of her eyes crinkled and the indents on her cheeks deepened somewhat. She didn’t give him much of a chance to admire it though, too preoccupied with making sure she didn’t move him around too much as she carefully pulled the shirt over his head and helped each of his arms into the sleeves.

“I take it you have photophobia,” she said matter-of-factly. It was almost too clinical-sounding for Wesker’s liking, odd as that may seem. The term alone just left a bad taste in his mouth.

It was sort of his own fault, which he didn’t like owning up to. He’d always had trouble with his sensitivity to bright lights, but he was only meant to wear the tinted glasses Umbrella prescribed him when in the lab or outside. It had been the relief he felt without a migraine clawing at his senses that made him forget he was wearing them at all, and in turn, that developed into a habit of leaving them on for nearly all waking hours. His eyes adjusted to the conditions and it only worsened his sensitivity when he was without his sunglasses.

What he wouldn’t give to have his youthful eyes back.

When Wesker didn’t respond to her, Diana gently cupped his cheek. He tried to meet her gaze, but her eyes were focused just below, where her thumb was brushing across the dark circle marring his skin. Another thing he wished he could reverse time to prevent.

As useful as her help was, Wesker couldn’t understand why she was doing this, why she was being so… kind. So tender. She wasn’t a nurturer, or the type to worry about others. Maybe she did actually care for him, more than she let on. That didn’t feel right though – it just left him profoundly uncomfortable. His mind had to be playing tricks on him with how exhausted he was. That was the only reasonable explanation.

Diana’s thumb paused its repetitive motion and she simply held her hand in place. It was just for another second or two, but her touch lingered well after she departed, leaving a pleasant tingle across his skin.

The last obstacle in the way of Wesker being able to just collapse into bed and hope that his migraine was gone by the morning was the pair of pyjama pants Diana was bunching up so she could help him change into them easily. His tired limbs seemed to move on their own, slipping into each pant leg with little input from him, but the moment he lifted his hips as she tugged the fabric over them, another surge of intense pain hit him, causing him to keel over.

It felt as though his head was being split in two, torn apart from the inside out. He could have sworn the eye taking the brunt of the pressure was going to pop out of its socket at any minute. The only thing he could do was rest his head in his hands and endure it, pressing his thumbs down on the innermost part of his brows in hopes to alleviate some of the pain.

Diana shuffled closer and reached forward to place her hands on his thighs. They only ran up and down the sides of them in a gentle, reassuring motion while her mind scrambled to recall the locations of where she’d seen every thing that could possibly aid him in his house.

Her brain was being just as helpful as his was, because she drew a blank, too taken aback by the sight in front of her. The intimidating Albert Wesker slumped over in pain – that was something she thought she’d never see. He always seemed so… invincible. Nothing could tear down his powerful image and break through his composed demeanour this easily, and she couldn’t quite believe her eyes.

“Albert?” Diana’s voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear it, but his name always sounded so much nicer spilling from her lips compared to anyone else’s. “Do you need a bucket? Or…” She paused for a second then let out a frustrated huff. “Where do you keep your painkillers?”

“They don’t work,” Wesker grumbled.

Of course they don’t, she thought. That would’ve been too easy.

Or he was being overdramatic. So, she pressed on. “Not even a little bit?”

The crease between his brows only deepened, and he squeezed his eyes shut. So, that was a definitive no.

Diana pursed her lips as she tried to think of what else she could do for him. She wasn’t familiar with actually dealing with a migraine, even if she knew all of the treatments on paper; she was fortunate enough to never get them, and she couldn’t remember the last time someone around her had. She could list off every over-the-counter painkiller and triptan that was used to specifically target a migraine, but that would do her no good. She didn’t know what worked for him.

There had to be something though. Diana moved to stand and go take a look at what was in the medicine cabinet in his bathroom, but Wesker fumbled to take her hand in his own.

That made her freeze on the spot.

She had no doubt he was cursing himself for doing such a thing, for how it almost seemed to be a reflex more than a conscious decision. Or perhaps he just needed something solid to hold on to. Whichever it was, Diana didn’t care, so long as it helped. Even if the way he was gripping her hand hurt like hell; she’d been through far worse, so the possibility of a broken bone was something she would simply bear.

“Here,” she whispered while carefully pulling Wesker up to stand a moment after she did so herself. He stumbled on his feet when upright, but Diana was there – the pillar to hold him up and save him from toppling over.

The arm not reaching for his – right hand clasping his own – was wrapped around his back. It served to keep him stable as she slowly guided him over to what she had long since been acquainted with as his preferred side of the bed. This whole ordeal would’ve been much easier if he wasn’t leaning his entire body weight against her, but at least the trip wasn’t too lengthy.

Their hands only parted when Diana let go to lean forward and pull back the covers for him. Wesker really hoped she didn’t see how his fingers extended on instinct, as if to chase her touch. It was utterly pathetic. The urge to hold her was getting increasingly annoying, and he wished his body would just try to not embarrass him for once.

He couldn’t exactly exert much control over his innate reactions in his condition, but if Diana noticed, she didn’t say anything. That was one positive, he supposed.

And the fact that he managed to sit on the bed on his own without dragging her down with him. That probably would’ve earned him a bony shoulder digging into his chest, and that would just make matters worse.

Diana didn’t have to, but she went so far as to help him lie down as well. In a way that wouldn’t make his head feel as though someone had taken a hammer to it, that is. All slow movements and firm but gentle touches, manipulating his limbs for him as they felt too heavy for him to move on his own. And when she was done, one of her hands reached up to smooth back his hair.

That brought about that dreadful flutter in the pit of Wesker’s stomach. Or maybe that was the nausea. He couldn’t tell at this point.

Weary eyes tried their hardest to stay trained on the figure lingering in front of them. But they were unsuccessful. Wesker couldn’t keep them open any longer, not when everything was spinning around like this. He couldn’t even make out what the expression strewn about Diana’s features was.

It didn’t even matter, because her comforting touch left him before the sound of her feet padding across the floor reached his ears – quickly, like she was in some rush. Unnecessary, Wesker thought. He wasn’t exactly going anywhere, lying there in agony.

He didn’t think it would get this bad. It had been so long since he’d had a migraine like this. The nausea, visual disturbances, and all of that nonsense was typical for him, but the vertigo would come and go. Every time it showed itself he was caught off guard; there was no getting used to the feeling of his body swaying back and forth when he was lying perfectly still.

That wasn’t even the worst of his problems.

His mind decided it wanted to be louder than the rhythmic pulse behind his eye, yelling at him to the point where his thoughts felt like they were what was causing his pain by bouncing around and colliding with his skull.

Weak. Pitiful. Unacceptable. Over and over again.

How could he let someone see him like this?

Not just someone, but her, of all people. The woman who would roll her eyes when one of the researchers called off work, the one who boasted about never getting sick, the one who carried herself like nothing could strike her down. Just like he did. And yet here he was, reduced to rubble by a bit of pain.

That’s what was confusing Wesker. Why was Diana being so considerate of his plight? He had no doubt she’d rather be at the lab, or really anywhere else, doing something worthwhile instead of this. She should just leave, honestly. There was no reason for her to stick around; it wasn’t like she felt anything more for him beyond fellowship. Sherry was wrong in her assumption; Diana wasn’t his partner.

She may have been his, but he certainly wasn’t hers. No, she just enjoyed toying with him.

Now was not the time to fall into thinking about that rubbish again. He should’ve never asked her if she wished to stay the night. Or invited her over for dinner in the first place, for that matter.

“Alright.”

That pulled Wesker out of his head. It may have only been low, simply a hurried mumble under one’s breath, but that entrancing voice was unmistakable to him. His little pity party hadn’t lasted long – privacy breached once more as Diana returned from whatever she had been doing. He really did despise that she was witnessing him in this state; this wasn’t how he wished for her to find out he suffered from migraines.

With her hands full, Diana crossed his room with the stride of someone on a mission – full of purpose. First, she placed a glass of water down on his nightstand, then she used her now free hand to pull the bucket she’d found in the laundry out from under her other arm, where it was sitting awkwardly and digging into her side. 

Once she set it down beside the bed, she crouched in front of Wesker and placed the ice pack she’d wrapped in a tea towel in one of his hands, which he lifted to his forehead immediately. Diana had no idea if that would help him or not, actually. She preferred heat for pain relief; being sensitive to the cold always made her recovery with injuries from ballet growing up a horrid experience. Maybe she should have looked to see if he had a heat pack instead. That would help alleviate the tension in his neck and shoulders.

No. She had what she needed, she wasn’t going to run around and make an even bigger fuss. It would probably make him feel worse, anyhow.

The only thing left to do was close the curtains and block out any light that threatened to seep into his room, whether that be from the street lamps illuminating the suburb or the bright moon itself. The significance of his blackout curtains now made much more sense to her.

When she stood to round the bed, Diana had no idea why she took the hand by his hip in her own and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her thumb even brushed across the back of it for a second. There was just this odd need to show him that she was there, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Even as she pulled the curtains shut, the thought didn’t leave her mind.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

Taking care to not make the mattress dip too much, Diana climbed into bed next to Wesker. The last thing she wished was for her getting comfortable to cause him any undue pain because it jostled him about. It was only then, when the covers brushed across her bare legs, that she realised she was only wearing his shirt – the pyjama pants he’d chosen for her long forgotten somewhere to the darkness.

Wesker decided to be rather ungrateful for her cautious approach, as he moved on his own. Diana couldn’t help how her eyes wandered over him, taking in every detail she could as he began to slowly roll over; his brows were knit together, deepening the lines between them, his lips were pulled down in a frown, and his eyes were screwed shut. It was rather obvious to her that he was trying to not bring up all of his dinner, and that sent her heart plummeting down into her stomach. What he was going through really sunk in then.

She wished she could just take the pain away, make it all disappear and guarantee it would never return.

It was an awful feeling, watching the man who had only ever given her these tiny glimpses of vulnerability do what looked to be such a practised motion, as though he had a tried-and-true method for dealing with his nausea for so long.

She felt helpless. But why did she even care? Countless lovers had come and gone, not ever leaving an imprint on her heart, but he seemed to tug at every string.

A loud thump, immediately followed by a rather feeble sound, pulled Diana from her thoughts. It wasn’t quite a groan, but not nearly a whimper either, and she never thought she’d hear such a sound come from Wesker.

While turning, the ice pack had fallen free of his weak grasp and landed on the floor, causing the disturbance. Diana opened her mouth to speak, to ask him if he wanted her to pick it up for him, but she didn’t get a chance; he curled up against her side all of a sudden, resting his head on her chest. That was something she wasn’t prepared for. He had never done that before, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he heard the way her heart sped up at the act.

Diana kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, not daring to look down at him while her arm hesitated to wrap around his back. What was she even supposed to do? This was all new territory for her, for them, and… it was overwhelming. She didn’t know what to think; there was just this massive weight that had been dropped onto her chest. And it wasn’t Wesker, or the way he slung his arm over her waist.

It was that somehow, despite everything, he had managed to worm his way past all of her defences and make her actually care for him.

But friends do care for one another, yes? That is a fact. And it’s not like their dates meant anything; she had gone on many with casual partners in the past, and they were merely a formality. The longing she felt for him was nothing beyond physical.

The arm around her tightened its hold on her side, pulling her closer, and Diana looked down just in time to see a grimace twist Wesker’s features before he turned his head to rest his brow against her breastbone. Whatever he grumbled as he did so, Diana couldn’t quite make out what it was.

She chewed on her lip while bringing a hand up to the back of his head, gently cradling it and holding him close. She found herself hesitating again, unsure of the implications of her touch – how it could be perceived. But the urge grew too strong soon enough. Whatever was going on between them was just that, and she wasn’t going to complicate matters by overanalysing it.

Her fingers ran through his hair, pressing firm against his scalp in somewhat of a massage. Diana absolutely hated the feeling of pomade residue on her fingers, but seeing the way his shoulders relaxed eased her disgust, if only slightly. She’d just have to deal with the waxy feeling on her skin, she supposed. It was a selfish thought but she wished he’d at least managed to rinse out his hair. She knew he hated it as well, though; his routines were always so important to him.

Wesker let out a long exhale and Diana paused the motion, unsure if what she was doing was actually making matters worse. He didn’t say anything, but the way he held her closer while his legs tangled with her own made her stomach flip, as though she was the one who was going to be sick.

The arm around his back held him firm as she leaned in to press a kiss to the top of his head. She never wanted him to go through this again, and she would find a way to ensure that.

For now though, she made a note to have a look for his glasses first thing tomorrow, before he woke.

#writing. #pair: ewskers #oc: diana #setting: early october 1996. same as part one as it's a continuation of that night // i think i said this all in the tags of the first part #already but i wrote these two fics back in march last year and decided to rewrite them for myself cause my writing has changed and i wanted #them to flow a bit better even though nothing has actually changed in them !! very special fics for me as it shows another side of diana #that i don't really talk much about. i mean all my fics are special to me otherwise i wouldn't write them but you know what i'm saying !! #i wasn't sure if i was going to post this or not cause i'm not feeling great about sharing my writing much but i'm just doing so for myself #if you do read it i would love to hear thoughts for either chapter and of course rbs and kudos are always appreciate but no pressure ever ♡ #i'll stop rambling cause i talked about it all in last post in my talk tag but i haven't been on here a lot due to a lot of health reasons #and feeling very disconnected and overwhelmed from here so i'm still around on twitter and such but things have been really bad recently #and i thought it best to not vent on here a lot like i used to and just kind of take time for me. i miss interacting with everyone on here #though and i hope everyone is doing well !!

[parmmykitty]

THE LACK OF CAT HYBRID WESKER IS DRIVING ME INSANE! I'LL BE MY OWN HERO IF NO ONE ELSE WILL!

CatMAN! Wesker x Owner! Reader (Not really a fic but something I thought was kinda cute)

His owner is the only non hybrid he likes. Has a perry the platypus situation going on. He runs off to be a bioterrorist for a week then comes home. When he went to Africa he wanted to go back home after a week but since he ran away in classic cat fashion with no plan he got lost. Uroburos was going to be basically not deadly but once again in stereotypical cat logic he thinks if he kills almost all non hybrids it will make it easier to find his person since there will be less people. Doesn't know that he was microchipped and that the airport checks for chips on hybrids so owner kinda knows where he is but not exactly. Owner gets to Africa before Chris and puts up a whole bunch of missing cat posters that have a cute picture with him having zoomies and reveals his real name as Albert Whiskers. ("He responds to Whiskers or Big Boy. Has run away before but never this far or this long so he might be very scared. He can be a little mean but if you pinch his cheeks and call him Big Boy he should calm down.") When Chris gets there and eventually sees the posters he gets his owner to meet up with him and tells them that they know where he is. Chris tries to tell his owner how he's evil but owner always responds with "He's just being a kitty", "He missed his own birthday and was sad", "That weekend he had to go to the vet so he was still upset". Owner finally meets up with Albert right before the plane and its literally adorable. ("Whiskers!") Albert's ears perk up and he runs over to his owner. He starts rubbing against them and purring and when owner start petting him he starts making biscuits and rolls around to show his belly. Chris and Sheva are standing there confused on what to do.

"He tried to commit genocide."

"He was just trying to find a way home."

"By killing everyone?"

"He's just a silly little guy."

Owner and Whiskers just go home and Albert doesn't want to run away again since he says that it was too hot and he was hungry the whole time. In reality he missed cuddles and playing; he didn't want to be without his owner anymore.

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #wesker x reader