Since I have a proper desk and too much time on my hands, I've decided to open writing requests!
Please read the directions below, possibly before asking! I try not to bite anyone, though.
Thank you so much!!!
DIRECTIONS
English is not my first language. I do my best in writing, but don't expect top tier literature!
Since these are requests, I don't guarantee a maximum time to process them. I'll try to get to everything, but of course life may be prioritized.
I write almost anything: romantic, platonic, explicit, AUs, whatever. Both reader insert and characters/ships. I don't write with OCs only (meaning: your OC and other characters from anything is fine, your OC in your own setting, right now, is not).
These are the fandoms I'm more comfortable writing: Fire Emblem (any game excluding Warriors, TMS and Shadows), Pokémon (gameverse, I'm not so knowledgeable about the manga and the animated series), Resident Evil (4 and 1 remake), Animal Crossing (New Horizons), John Wick, No More Heroes (this list might change). If you don't see your fandom here, you might ask, if it's something I really don't know about I'll let you know.
I won't write anything that entails illegal things. You should know what I'm talking about.
In your requests, you can be as detailed or as vague you want: I'll do my best!
If you really like something I wrote (!!!) and you really want to make a post about it somewhere else, you can, but please let me know and credit me properly.
Summary: you learn the true meaning of the word "istincts". The hard way.
Pairing: STARS!Albert Wesker x gn!reader
Tags & warnings: sfw but slightly suggestive at the end; gender neutral reader; kinda OOC Wesker; no use of Y/N for the reader; zero mention of clothing (apart from a sleeve), gender or body characteristics of the reader
Word count: 625
Crossposted on AO3
Everything was perfectly organized.
You couldn’t help but giggle at how meticulous the preparation was: you had told Albert, your boyfriend, that you had to do some overtime, so the house would be empty when he came home. He had told you it was okay, he could maybe order some delivery when you were getting home.
You actually got out of work a bit earlier and got home, leaving the blinds down and all the lights off. You took off your shoes but didn’t put them in the shoe rack by the front door. He wouldn’t suspect a thing.
You checked the time: he was going to arrive in five minutes. Good thing he was never early, nor late. He was some kind of robot, probably, but you didn’t care.
You hid near the bathroom door, knowing it would be the first room he was going to get in.
At five thirteen you heard the sound of the keys in the lock, and then the door opening.
You held your breath, scared he might hear you in the profound silence of your shared apartment.
You heard a soft hum and various sounds from the living room, probably him changing in slippers. Then, you heard his footsteps coming towards you.
Every muscle in your body was tense. Would he be happy? It was a silly surprise, for sure, but you really did want to do something special for him. Something to show him you still had the spark, even if you two got into the usual routine after the first time together.
As planned, you saw his shadow heading to the bathroom.
When Albert was near enough, you jumped out of your hiding spot.
«Surpr-»
The next moments were very chaotic. You felt his grip on your arm, way tighter than it used to be, but couldn’t ask any questions before Albert made you spin and swooped you from your feet. He caught you before your face could hit the floor, arm twisted behind your back, one of his legs between yours to prevent you from moving, his other arm clasping the free wrist.
«Fuck. What the fuck. Sweetheart, I- fuck. I’m so sorry.»
He slowly let you go, putting you back on your feet. Your breath was uneven and you were trying to process what happened. It was so sudden and fast.
«Sorry. I’m sorry.» Albert repeated again, turning the lights of the bathroom on. The sudden ray stung your eyes and made you snap back to reality.
You turned to face Wesker.
«What was that?»
«I didn’t expect you here. I thought there was an intruder. Well… I didn’t think a lot. You startled me and I acted upon instincts.»
Your fingers were trembling. Of course he had: he had been in the military, at a pretty high rank. He was trained to react exactly the way he did.
«I didn’t mean to hurt you.» he added, in a softer tone. He had a hand mid-air, like he wanted to touch you but couldn’t muster the courage to do it.
You got closer, putting your head on his chest, and he hugged you.
«I am sorry, Albert.» you murmured, «It was meant to be a funny surprise. I didn’t want to scare you so badly.»
His fingers grazed on your arm, lifting the sleeve of your shirt.
«It doesn’t hurt.» you added immediately. It wasn’t entirely true, it hurt just a bit, but you didn’t want to make him feel more guilty than he already was.
«I’ll put on a bath for you. And then we order takeout, as the original plan. You choose. How does it sound?»
Pairing: Albert Wesker x AFAB reader
Summary: You finally reunite with your boyfriend for summer. He has issues with sunscreen. (Cross-posted on AO3)
No warnings. This is intended for general audiences.
Word count: 1056
This was inspired by this fanart made by @saucyy-salamander on Instagram! Here and here are her other profiles. Go follow her!
Having Albert Wesker, the hot police officer you met at work during that hell of a week, vacationing in your area instead of going back to where he was from was the best thing you could ever experience. You were counting days that separated you from reuniting with Albert, not counting hours and minutes just because you couldn’t keep track.
At your office people could tell you were excited. You were way more accommodating than usual and went around in small jumps, waving whatever papers people gave you while you went to your older colleagues to ask for clarification.
«So, what’s this fuss about?» Ginevra asked you once during lunch.
«Oh.» you answered, blushing a little and fidgeting with your fork, «I’m excited to go on holiday. That’s it.»
«Uh-uh.» Ginevra answered condescendingly. You let out a strained laughter.
«I’m meeting with him.» you explained. There was no need to explain who him was, everybody knew you met with the guy more than once and that you two had a thing going on.
«Ooh. Him. I get it now. Have fun and stay safe.»
You both laughed. You knew your colleague was not worried about your wellbeing, safety was about something else.
That Friday, you clocked out with the biggest grin on your face.
«Bye-bye, everyone. See you in two weeks, if I don’t decide to move in the meantime.»
You took your time to say goodbye to everyone individually, then took the suitcase you had brought and headed to the central train station.
You were supposed to reach your destination the morning after: Wesker had to pick you up (he had his own car, lucky him), check you in at the hotel and then off to the beach you had to go.
You didn’t sleep so well, but you expected that: resting on a high-speed train was not easy. And you were very, very excited. You had texted Wesker, letting him know you had departed, but you didn’t want to disturb him that much during the night. He was on vacation and he deserved to rest too.
Anyway, the morning after the sun had just come out when you got off the train, groggy and in desperate need of a coffee.
> Did you park? I just got off, but I need breakfast rn
< I parked, dear. There’s a café here in the station. They have donuts.
The word “donuts” alone was enough to put a smile on your face.
> Super cool. Meet you there!
You met at the designated café and the first thing you did was launch yourself in Wesker’s arms. He hugged you tight, despite the climate, but you swore you could hear him hiss subtly when you squeezed your arms around his shoulders. You pulled back and you were met with his usual emotionless stare.
«Hi, sweetheart. How was the journey?»
«Hi, Albert. Journey was good, but now it’s even better.»
You stood on your tiptoe to kiss him. It was short, but tender, and gave you butterflies in your stomach.
«Where are the donuts?»
You got your well-deserved sweet treat and a latte, while Wesker drank only a coffee. Without sugar or milk, of course. As bitter as life itself.
Then you both got in the car.
«I’m happy to have you here. Being alone can be… tedious.» Wesker told you while starting the car, leaning in for another kiss. You decided to test your hypothesis.
While reciprocating the kiss, you massaged his shoulder and, sure enough, you felt him tense under your touch. You then traced your fingers down to his wrist, and he relaxed.
«Let’s go.»
Wesker got out of the parking lot. You kept studying his expression, trying not to get distracted by his biceps and the muscles that appeared under his skin as he maneuvered the steering wheel. It was a sight, for sure.
«Albert?»
«Yes, baby?»
«Did you get sunburnt?»
You had learned pretty quickly that direct questions gave him less space to change subject or tell half the truth. He didn’t lie, not that you were aware of at least, but he was deceptive when a topic wasn’t of his liking.
«Nothing to worry about.» he answered, caressing your thigh. So yes, he did get sunburnt. And it probably hurt a lot.
«Did you put your sunscreen on?»
Another direct question. Only yes or no.
«I… I might have underestimated the climate here.»
Might was the magic word. Wesker didn’t underestimate anything, he had asked you so many finicky questions when he came to your office, just to make sure everything was perfect. Him forgetting sunscreen or thinking it was unnecessary was not the case. He might have underestimated the climate, but you knew he didn’t.
«Okay.» you answered, shifting your eyes from his face to the road and holding his hand. There was some silence between you for a while.
«I hate that damn thing.» Wesker started. You gave him all of your attention.
«It’s sticky and it stinks and it’s horrible. I know I’m supposed to put it on. I can’t stand it. I tried, but I couldn’t. It’s disgusting.»
The last words could be directed to the sunscreen or to himself. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this for a stupid cream. It was easy: just put it on your hand, spread it, and go on with your day. He was Albert Wesker. He had gone through worse.
You squeezed his hand gently, interrupting the flow of thoughts you knew was going on in his head.
«Hey. It’s okay. What’s the worst part about it?»
You tried to sound gentle, to show him that you only wanted to help. And apparently it worked.
«I can’t dose it. If I take too little, my own hand scrapes too much against my skin. If I take too much, it leaves that greasy feeling everywhere. I can wash my hands, yes, but not the rest of the body. And don’t get me started on the smell.»
You listened patiently, nodding along.
«Do you think I can try to put it on for you?»
Wesker nodded.
«I think so. Your hands are so smooth and silky. And you probably know better than me how to use it.»
«I’ll teach you. When we get at the hotel, let’s take a look at the extent of the damage.»
Summary: you're into older people, especially your boss at the lab. Thanks to @shesmycollaarr for the idea, and I really hope you enjoy this thing!
Pairings: RE5!Albert Wesker x younger fem reader
Word count: 3400 words ca.
Tags and warnings: explicit, smut, MDNI, porn with little plot, office sex, semi-public sex (but no one gets caught), voyeurism (just a little bit), age gap (Wesker in his fifties, reader in her older twenties/early thirties), oral sex (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it everyone), a bit of degradation kink, no use of Y/N, English is not my first language but erotic fics are a really significant part of my English reading practice so.
«Hey!»
You expected Dav to be already there. The most important thing about him, and you learned that quickly, was that lunchtime was sacred. Lunchbreak started at twelve, and at twelve he left whatever he was doing and went to eat. He took his time to choose whatever food he wanted, and he didn’t leave the cafeteria until he was completely done. Rumors said that, once, the upper floors tried to reduce lunchbreak from ninety to sixty minutes, and he alone managed to make them regret the decision.
Anyway, you happily made your way to the table and sat across Dav.
«Hey! Everything fine?»
Dav nodded, mindlessly eating the last bits of bread.
«You’re late.»
«I had some work to finish.» you apologized, smiling in his direction. He shook his head.
«Very bad. First you eat, then you finish the job. Not the other way around. Anyway, how was Saturday night?»
Straight to the point, and always hungry. That was Dav for you.
You just shrugged.
«We didn’t click. He really wasn’t my type. You know, he looked like…»
You bit your lower lip, trying to find a nice way to put it.
«Y’know, he’s my age but… All he talked about was concerts and his bike and… I don’t know.»
«I don’t.» Dav answered, shaking his head again, «That’s what normal people talk about.»
«I’m normal.» you objected, «It’s just… I passed that phase of life. I’m not sixteen anymore. I’m looking for an actual adult.»
«An actual adult.» Dav repeated, slowly and articulating every word, as if you said something wrong, «And how’s this actual adult? Not asking for me.»
You laughed. Dav seemed kind of judging, but you knew him well enough to know it was all a façade.
Since you mentioned you felt alone, he had been trying to set you up. Not in an aggressive way, just introducing you to people he knew or friends of his friends. It was his way to show he cared. And you knew you were out of his radar: he had made pretty clear the fact that he liked boys.
«Well, adult. Manly. Protective. That knows what he wants and that’s not afraid to pursue it. That can be in charge, if I need it.»
«Hey, sweetie, we’re talking about partners. Not about Wesker.»
You couldn’t help a snort, but you tried to keep it collected. You didn’t want to draw attention to the conversation.
«I actually think Wesker could be a good partner.»
Dav rolled his eyes.
«He’s your boss. And he’s old.»
You smiled, partly lost in a daydream where Wesker was actually your partner.
«You know what they say? Raw and older.»
«Holy… Calm down, darling. He’s boring. I bet the only thing he does in bed is sleep. Counting sheep, maybe?»
You wanted to keep this conversation going. Sometimes Dav gave inadvertently new ideas to daydream and touch yourself on.
«I think Wesker could surprise me. He’s collected and cool, but I bet he loses his mind in bed.»
«Go ask him.» Dav said, in a plain and quiet voice, looking at a point just over your shoulder. You jumped and turned around: Wesker was sitting a few tables away, with other people, talking about things you couldn’t grasp from your seat.
«Shut up.» you gritted, feeling the heat growing in your cheeks and ears. There was no way Wesker could have heard you from that distance, and Dav would have told you if he got too close. On that, you could trust your best friend.
Either way, you decided to drop the conversation and focus on eating.
*
Wesker was disappointed in that ending. He hoped he could hear what you thought he could do in bed. The topic was promising.
But he couldn’t blame Davis on noticing him: he didn’t go around unnoticed in general. But that evening, while the end of the workday approached, he was still focused on your heartbeat during that lunch break. One thing he was sure about: that you were sincere in what you said. He could tell from the increased heartbeat he heard when Davis dropped his name during the conversation and in the slight heat that radiated from you when you said that phrase. What was that? Raw and older.
It was nothing more than a silly chat between young coworkers, though. Wesker remembered when he was around your age: his hormones messed up a lot with his libido too. But he was certain he was more collected than you and Davis.
How old were you exactly anyway? He opened your file on his computer. That was some information he never bothered to learn simply because it was useless. You did your job well, showed up, followed protocols. That was what mattered.
He heard your footsteps approaching: debriefing time. He closed your file and waited for you to knock on the door.
«Come in.» he answered, back resting on his chair. He observed the way you opened the door just enough to pass, as if you weren’t used to take more space than you needed, and just after you closed the door, you greeted him.
«Good evening, sir.»
You squinted, adjusting to the dim light of the office.
«Reporting for the end of the day.»
He figured. And he realized he could predict every word: you always reported in the same way, with the same formulas.
Was there anyone else in your team that did reporting? Not that he could think of. He was sure you were almost the only one coming to his office. He just didn’t think much of it.
He gestured at the chair in front of him.
«Please take a seat.»
He opened the selected folder where he kept notes before studying the full report. You sat across of him and put the neatly stacked papers in front of you.
«Okay, so. Things are proceeding as expected and we are right on schedule. There’s just one thing, a minor detail, but… I’d like to point it out.»
You stumbled on your words as you were skimming the pages of the report.
Wesker got lost on your fingers. The way they gently gripped the corners of the pages, the quick trails they drew under words and numbers.
You brought a finger to your lips. Wesker mindlessly followed it, and he recorded the cute way in which it picked at your bottom lip, which was moving up and down, forming words that you were just mumbling. Random words from the pages of the report.
«Shit.»
The cursing caught both you and Wesker by surprise. You felt heat in your cheeks and your ears, while thoughts started racing to try and fix the situation.
«Sorry, sir, I am very sorry… I… It was over the line. I… Um…»
«It’s fine.» Wesker said, trying to calm you down.
«I forgot to print a page. The most important page. I’m sorry sir, I’ll head back to the lab and…»
Wesker would have laughed, but he didn’t really want to worsen your mood.
«It’s not the end of the world.» he answered, slowly.
«You can get it done tomorrow. It’s almost seven now.»
You exhaled. You really didn’t want to disappoint your boss or let him think that you did something carelessly.
«I really don’t mind, sir. Out of sight, out of mind. I’ll just have a late dinner.»
«Then let me come with you.» Wesker answered, «Everyone else already went home. We’ll sort this out together. How does this sound?»
«It sounds lovely, sir.» you answered, heart filled with gratitude. You felt seen, as a human being.
Wesker got up and escorted you back to the lab. You sat on your chair and turned the PC on.
Wesker was following your movements attentively. He leaned on the chair you were sitting on.
And then it hit him: your scent, a mix of fruit shampoo, faded perfume, a hint of sweat from the day, the chicken you ate at lunch, but also the heat of your blood running in your veins, the sound of your heartbeat, a bit higher than it should have.
And, unmistakenly, you smelled like arousal. Not that much, but probably enough to form a spot on your panties.
In other circumstances, Wesker would have no problem in just fucking you there and then. But something coming from the deep recess of his soul stopped him.
You weren’t made for him. It wasn’t for the age gap, at all. It was just… You were so kind. You were the only one that prepared reports in the best way possible just to make his job easier. You told him yourself just a few weeks prior. And many times, when he stayed at work late, you were there. Maybe not with him, but you found something to do in the parking lot and went home just when you saw him exit the building. You never spoke that much outside of work, but you were always there somehow.
«Here.»
Wesker was brought back by the sound of your voice. He looked attentively at the graph you were presenting.
«I see.»
He immediately got the concern you were talking about: it was indeed very minor.
«I’ll print this page for you. Just a minute.»
You hit the print button on the page and the nearby printer hummed, buttons lighting up. The page came out neatly and you grabbed it, enjoying the warmness of the sheet on your fingers and the smell of fresh ink.
«Okay, here it is.»
You passed the paper to Wesker.
«Thank you. I’ll go back to my office, just to leave this report on my desk. You may go home now. See you tomorrow.»
You actually took your sweet time in switching the computer and the lights off, going to the bathroom and making sure that everything was in place for the next day.
The thing was that you loved seeing Wesker get to his car. It was the only glimpse of normalcy you got of him. Sometimes it seemed he existed only in the lab and only for the labs. You didn’t know exactly where he went to sleep, you didn’t know if he slept at all or if he was some kind of robot. But you craved him so much: you were completely sure that, behind the harsh director of the facility, there was a man. An extraordinary one, yes, but a man, with a life and things going on.
And you wanted to see that side of him. Experience him whole. See if that commanding tendency stayed in the bedroom or…
And there went your thoughts again. You really needed to go home and take care of the wet and hot spot between your legs.
*
Wesker was attending his usual storage check. It was not the end of the four-month period yet, but Uroboros were very near completion and he wanted to leave everything in place.
He fumbled with the keys to get the right one when he was distracted by a smell. Your scent, specifically.
And not the gentle one you had that night when you forgot to print the paper. It was stronger, more pungent, but undeniably yours.
He put the keys back in his pocket, careful to make as little noise as possible, and he followed the trail.
Just a few steps were enough to understand that the scent he felt earlier was a mix of endorphins, adrenaline, sweat and vaginal fluids. The realization made his core twist and he could already feel some restraint in his crotch. He walked faster, but silently.
More stimuli caught him: the soft sound of your moans, mixed with others certainly from a video, the wet and sloppy sounds your fingers made moving inside you, the fact that you were undeniably reaching your climax.
He found the door behind which you were hiding and listened to everything that was coming from the inside.
«You like it, slut? You like it when your boss fucks you rough on the desk?»
A porn video about office sex. Wesker could see that coming. What caught him off guard was how loud your moan was in response. He felt so grateful for his heightened senses that allowed him to hear you give pleasure to yourself. He didn’t even care that it was on the clock and you were supposed to be working.
«A-Albert… Albert!»
Hearing his name called by you, followed by cries of relief, was something else. All the thoughts he had about you not being able to handle him vanished. He was a scientist: he was going to test it and find out.
He slammed the door open and located you: you were sitting on the floor, phone in one hand, now with the screen turned off, and you were reaching for paper towels. Your pants were undone and lowered just below your knees, as were the panties, and he could see your pussy, exposed and glistening from your own juice. Your beautiful chest was moving up and down according to your heavy pants. He scanned your face: hair unkempt, some of them glued to your forehead by trails of sweat, a nice shade of red on your cheeks, just below your eyes, widened in horror yet glassy from the orgasm.
«Don’t move.» Wesker instructed, closing the door behind him and getting to the corner where you were sitting. He crouched in front of you.
«I… Sorry… I…»
You didn’t even know what to say. You just knew you were in big trouble. So much. How much had he heard? How didn’t you hear him get close? Why your hormones were so bad that you decided that getting off thinking about your boss in a storage room was a very good idea?
You could feel a tear leave your eye and glide on your cheek, while you desperately tried to make up an excuse or something.
You realized you were still undressed and you pressed your legs together.
«Didn’t expect this from you.» Wesker continued, still not touching you. His cock was almost aching on how hard he was now, all because of you and your pretty voice.
«Sir, I-»
«Masturbating on the clock, while moaning my name, and not even telling me.»
He could say by the spark in your eyes that the words landed right.
«Now, dear, I sincerely hope you’re willing to make up for this act of disrespect.»
He freed his hands from his gloves and brushed your knees. He didn’t even need to apply pressure: at his touch, you spread them open again, as much as the pants allowed you.
«I am. I am, sir, I will do anything you want.»
Your heart was pounding and you were getting wet again. Just from his words and a brief touch.
«Anything, you say?»
You nodded, pleasingly overwhelmed by the twisting emotions inside you.
«Good. First let me taste you.»
He yanked your pants and underwear away, a yelp escaping from your lips, and he spread your legs even more open.
He adjusted you and lowered on your pussy, painfully slow.
You were with your back against the wall and your legs crossed on Wesker’s back. The fact that you couldn’t free from that position (not that you wanted) turned you on even more.
When you felt his wet and warm tongue on your slit, you had to bite your own hand to not scream. It felt so good. He slowly licked your juices away, tongue twisting and twirling on your skin, nose buried in, just near your clit. You arched into him, desperate for more friction, but his firm hands kept your hips in place.
«Hush, princess. Time for that later.»
You whined, but couldn’t do anything else while he cleaned you up with his mouth. When he felt it was enough, he pulled back. You were even hornier and needed relief, by him this time.
«To my office.»
His voice was almost a growl, airy and, you could tell, needy. You mustered up the strength to nod while you adjusted your pants just enough to be able to move.
Wesker was almost pulling you by your arm while you reached for the elevator and, when the doors behind you closed, he lifted you by your hips, slammed you against the elevator wall and threw himself on your lips.
You opened them and he started to explore every corner as if his life depended on it. You let out a muffled moan against him when you felt his erection on your cunt, and he thrusted into you just to hear your voice again.
Luckily, no one was around to see the absolute mess you two were. Wesker pulled you in the office and locked the door.
«Is this what you want? You want to be taken by your older boss right in his office?»
Right now you could tell he heard something about the video, but you couldn’t care less. Your fantasy just came true and you needed Wesker so much. You wanted him to just take you and use you as he saw fit.
«I do, sir. Please, claim me as yours.»
You didn’t even know where those words came from. They just formed in your mouth. But you meant every one of them.
Wesker was on you again, undoing your pants again with one hand and lifting your shirt with the other, until he uncovered your breasts.
«Just take everything off.» he said suddenly, abandoning your body to unbuckle his belt.
You did as you were said and took off every piece of clothing until you were completely naked, body available for Wesker’s pleasure.
He had freed his erection and was pumping his cock, and the sight of it did something you your inside. You moaned and rubbed your legs together just at the sight of it.
«What a slut. Just seeing my dick makes you this effect.»
He put you with your back on his desk, legs spread.
«How many times did you wish this happened?»
You let out a cry, too embarrassed to answer. But Wesker was demanding. He grabbed your chin so you had to face him.
«Too many, sir.» you answered, voice high and broken and filled with lust.
«Too many.» Wesker repeated, satisfied by the answer, «And what makes you think you can handle me?»
«I can learn, sir, just please, make me yours.» you cried out, hips jerking looking for the tip of his member.
«Let’s see.»
Finally, Wesker adjusted himself and pushed inside you. You cried again at the filling sensation in your core, squeezing your thighs against Wesker’s torso as he made his way inside you. He left out a long, deep moan of satisfaction.
«You’re so good. Taking it in as if you were made for this.»
He barely gave you time to process that he was deep inside before he started thrusting full force, testing your reaction.
And he was deeply satisfied: you shifted your pelvis to accommodate him better, moving at his rhythm as he pushed deeper, singing your pleasure with your beautiful voice.
«S-sir…»
«Use my name.» he commanded, squeezing your love handles so much that small bruises started forming on your skin, «Just as you were doing in the storage room.»
«Albert!» you cried, incapable of keeping your voice low, feeling an orgasm building up inside you.
«Like that.» he groaned, his cock twitching inside you, eager to fill you up.
You didn’t ask him to come out: as you promised, you were willing to do anything to make up for your disrespect. Your own orgasm, with tears striking down your face, hips crashing against Wesker’s, barely coherent words between your cries and your insides throbbing, triggered his, and he released himself completely inside you, cum filling you up rope by rope.
Wesker gave some lazier thrusts, just to make sure to dump everything he had, and he got out, smirking at the sight of your pussy: red, swollen and with a mix of juices and cum spilling out.
He made clear that it wasn’t enough, though: he fucked you again, sitting on his chair while you jumped up and down on his dick, and against the wall, just to make you understand how strong he was physically.
«Raw and older, you said?» he mentioned after he was thoroughly satisfied.
The comment took you off guard, but after a split second you burst out laughing.
«Way better than many thirty years old.» you assured him.
Following this post, I'm putting down my headcanons on Wesker as an adoptive father instead of a biological one (always as a Wesker x reader).
TAGS AND WARNINGS: gn!reader, mentions of infertility, adoptions, mentions of trauma
Adoptive dad Wesker
You were always very clear about wanting children, even if you and Wesker couldn't conceive any. So adoption was the only viable way.
At first, Wesker was skeptical, even though he never told you. He remembered his childhood and didn't want to cause that type of suffering, the only reason being it just hurt him by reflex.
But, after you addressed the subject several times, he decided to look into it.
You both went to a facility with the only intent to speak to the social workers and understand what the entire process would entail. During your visit, you actually found a pre-teen boy hanging around where he shouldn't (and smoking a cigarette, which he really shouldn't). He was quickly sent away and yelled at by the workers around.
You got out from the facility and to your car, but you already knew: it was him.
You came back a week later to start the process, and you were able to meet the boy. He wanted to look strong, but in your eyes he was like a wet puppy.
After that, Wesker became way more interested in childcare. He informed himself and asked you a lot of questions about your childhood, your home, your bedroom, just to prepare the best to get the boy.
When the boy came home, trust wasn't easy to get. At first he behaved like he was a guest, not leaving anything around and keeping his clothes in a suitcase.
Wesker found a way to get to him, though. One day, he intentionally left the door to his home office (usually closed) slightly open. Of course your son peeked into it.
Wesker left a paper on the desk, seemingly inadvertently, about his own "adoption" process. He figured that he could show his son that they have something in common.
And then, when your son asked about it, Wesker was able to pull you in: at dinner, he spoke about you and the way you came in his life, allowing him to have a family for the very first time.
The change didn't occur overnight, but you cried fat tears when finally your son started calling you your parents. And you swore Wesker's eyes were foggy.
DISCLAIMER: not my photo nor my edit. I left the original poster (albertwesker_official) in the screenshot and I really invite you to visit their page on Instagram! I'm just a thirsty girl
Just to be clear: about Resident Evil, I'm still a pretty strong larper. I'm slowly playing the games, at my own pace. In the meantime, get some headcanons about Albert Wesker as a father.
Disclaimer: in this post I'm thinking about Wesker as the biological father. I'll write something as an adoptive father some other time!
I'm going to tag @shesmycollaarr, if any of you would like to be tagged in future works let me know!
Dad Albert Wesker
The child is very much wanted. Wesker loves the idea of shaping another human being and let them become the best version of themselves. So, when you show him a positive pregnancy test, he feels something that resembles happiness.
He launches himself in research on childcare. Books, papers, you name it, he reads them. He wants to do the best work possible as a father.
That said, he doesn't feel the spark. He knows that parents are supposed to love their children, but during pregnancy he just doesn't feel it. He cares, he is present during every ultrasound and visit, but he always feels distant. It doesn't help that you seem to love your child so much already.
The first time he holds the baby, he doesn't feel the spark either. He just sees a small creature crying and needing comfort. He feels disappointed in himself and just mirrors your behaviour to not worry you.
At home he's actually an anchor. With all his lab training he's always on top of chores: there are always sanitized baby bottles, clean clothes both for you and the baby, diapers are always in stock. He does this methodically, it's almost scary.
When the first vaccinations of the baby are due, you don't feel well. He offers to bring him alone to the doctor and let you rest, since you deserve it. There it happens: when baby starts crying after the shot, Wesker of course holds them, and the proximity to his heart is enough to calm baby down. And he realizes what love is. He understands that he'll be the rock for his baby, a shoulder on which they will always count, and he loves this feeling.
He prefers leaving you with school stuff. He's present, but doesn't really like teacher-parent conferences. But, he keeps a file with all the info he can gather on his child's teachers, and he knows you peeked into it.
When the child grows, Wesker tries to give them many different experiences. He just wants his child to know what the world has to offer and, although he has a strong preference for sciences, he tries not to nudge too much.
Bonus: the child actually prefers arts and humanities. Oh well.
Now that my baby fever is back (it comes around every few weeks), it's time to properly drop everything I know about my children OCs.
Let's start with Vulcan, whom I introduced here. You can find a fanart down below made by lovely Anais (I love her she's so talented!!!). And, under the cut, some other info on this guy.
Follow Anais on Instagram, Bluesky, Twitter/X and Telegram.
DO NOT STEAL HER (AND MY) WORK AND PASS IT OFF AS YOURS/GIVE IT TO AI. OR REPOST. DON'T DO ANYTHING BAD OKAY.
As I mentioned, Vulcan is son of Kün Nuru (name of the Avatar in Fire Emblem Heroes) and God of Flame Múspell. Here is around 11, so pre-teen, with everything that entails.
He's too adventurous and he loves sneaking out to do dangerous stuff, just to prove he can and because he can't stand still. He doesn't really have a favourite between mom and dad: mom is stricter but comforting when he needs it, dad lets him do whatever he wants but tends to scold him when he gets (lightly) hurt or frustrated. Not that he doesn't care, he just isn't used to show affection and he strongly believes injuries are a fundamental part of building character. That said, if someone else ever tries to hurt Vulcan, that someone is dead. One thing is when Vulcan tries something and fails, that's on him, but someone else deliberately going in his way? That's unacceptable.
Fun fact: Múspell has a higher body temperature than Kün, and when Vulcan was a baby he really preferred to be held by dad. Sometimes predicaments occurred, because Vulcan would be hungry AND cold and would just endlessly cry because dad couldn't feed him but mom was too cold. Eventually, Múspell and Kün learned how to sit together to give Vulcan milk and warmth together. That meant many sleepless nights for both of them, but well. Kün just delegated tasks and slept during the day, and Múspell brought Vulcan around to let mom rest, since he needs less sleep (I don't know if he *needs* sleep at all. Working on that).
Ngl I wish I was more comfortable writing and expressing myself in English
I understand almost everything and can speak but sometimes... I'm like "oh noooo what if this isn't the exact word or use of this phrase... And people think I'm weird..."
Vulcan is the son of the God of Flame Múspell and the Summoner herself, called Kün Nuru in this version.
His birth wasn't really calculated: mom and dad loved each other and they would meet in mom's office (or room or whatever) to "discuss strategies". Dad acts first and thinks later, mom has never experienced something so intoxicating and... Well, that's how he came to be.
Nevertheless, Vulcan is very loved. He inherited some of his dad's powers: he can transform in his dragon form without a stone and is very proficient in fire magic, the fact that he doesn't get burned helps a lot. He is, however, weaker in terms of physical strenght, so he compensated by learning some combat tactics with other weapons. As for now, transforming in a dragon is forbidden, because he can't really control himself when that happens. He is working on it, though.
Like his dad, he is very impulsive, but doesn't get angry as quickly as him. He inherited his extroversion from his mom and will talk to anyone, given the possibility. He is also very stubborn, and it shows either when he's trying a new activity/hobby or when he tries to cheer his mom up after a long day. She better laugh and say she's feeling better, or else he would come up with more and more articulate jokes or put up the best present she could ever have.
That's it for now, I think. I'll write a fic on this family when I feel like it.
In my head lives this meme with Céline that goes like
"Excuse me! He asked for no pickles!"
And Alcryst behind her, shaking and crying because he doesn't want to be mean to pickles or the person who prepared his lunch but he can't eat them and Céline just HAD to step in to protect her fragile and picky boyfriend
