Lynn

18+ nat(not natalie) Wesker ʚ ɞ I started my journey with writing fanfics and similar stuff to "imagine" things I'd really appreciate your asks or your ideas to turn me on to it and give me the motivation to write, love you guys so much! ꨄ ->ig: nat.notnatalie<-

[missjasmine98]

I want to hug Wesker so badddd, like just hold him in my arms, stroke his hair until he falls asleep on me. He deserves all love in the world, honestly he's a really good man but he hiding it so much and im sure everyone can probably see that too

[missjasmine98]

a/n: HELLOOOO LONG TIME NO SEE!!! it's a little bit messy forgive me but i was sitting on it for idk 2 or 3 months bc of lack of creativity and strength, anyway here u go, hope u like it!!!! (working on something better dw;)

He wakes up every morning feeling that strange need of seeing you, talking to you, maybe even touching you. Turning off his alarm, still in cold bedsheets, he feels… really different, unpleasant. Every dream of you, every night the very same one, was making him feel discomfort in his own bed because you weren’t there, weren’t lying beside him.

Well, he wasn’t talking to you much, you two just worked at the same place together, but God, he was obsessed… Every inch of you sat in his memory. Your smile, your hair—every day styled, your taste in clothes, your way of talking.

He sometimes tries to admit to himself that he loves you, but dear God, no. He was a god, right? He was above everyone. He can’t feel love. But maybe… no, no (obviously a yes).

From your side, it was pretty similar. Everyone in the lab was able to see that you’re into him. You tried to hide it. You looked dark and very mean, but the worst thing was that you were really soft and cute inside.

That was the first thing he saw in you, and that turned him on. He wanted to take you out, to talk to you, to tell you his feelings, but he is just being Wesker, right?

His routine changed a little when you started working at Umbrella. He wasn’t just waking up, going to work, all day hoping you’d start a conversation or whatever else just to have a small conversation with you, even a nonverbal one, then heading home—and that’s where the nightmare starts. He would be so harsh on himself, realizing how many ways he had that day to start something that he completely wasted. At the end of the day, he just touches himself to your photos and goes to sleep just to make his wishes with you come true in his dreams.

It all ended one day, the day of your birthday. He was planning to wish you a happy birthday and maybe send you anonymous flowers, but you did very much more. You gifted him that ancient access to yourself.

He wakes up, warm spring sun peeking from the curtains straight into his face. He opened his eyes, again hugging that damn pillow.

“Why am I missing her again, fuck.”

Quickly putting himself together, he headed to work. Some time passed, bored because he hadn’t seen you yet. Then you came in.

“Good morning, Mr. Wesker,” you said, oddly happy, excited even, in his opinion. You were looking great. Long ponytail and a black bodysuit under the white lab coat, with black heels. You were looking like a goddess, his goddess.

“Mornin’,” he just said, pretending to be looking for something.

“I wanted to ask you if you would want to come to my birthday party…” you started. “I can send you the address and other information when I return to my office… and I, um, I would really appreciate and love your presence there.”

He could swear that his heart skipped a beat and the room got hotter in one second.

“Yes, please, baby, invite me, I beg you…”

He couldn’t believe what he heard. He looked at you and melted when he saw that pretty face. He lifted himself from his chair and made his way towards you, again pretending to be looking for something, but all his attention was on you.

“I will be there.”

He didn’t wait long to give you a response. Then you happily smiled and touched his shoulder.

“Okay, well, see you tonight!!!”

The place where your touch landed burned. He was so turned on. He even started to consider leaving work earlier just to get ready for the evening. The idea of you looking so pretty at the same party as him turned him on like never before, and when you touched his arm, he almost pissed his pants like a puppy seeing its owner.

So he did as he thought, left work early, something around 2 p.m., and headed home faster than usual. He opened the message from you, and immediately the memories flashed across his mind.

You both were doing overtime. You came to his office to give him the reports. You placed them on his desk, and he lifted his head to look at you.

“If you see any mistakes, text me. I’ll give you my number.” You bent over, took a random document, then wrote your number.

“I already have your email.”

“Yeah, I know, but there’s something wrong with it. I’m trying to change it, but I don’t have much time right now.” You gave him that cute smile of yours and left quickly, wishing him good night.

He pulled himself out of this and looked at the mirror, then at your text.

“Hey, so the party will be at this club link. It starts at 8 p.m., but you can arrive a little bit late if something happens. It’s gonna last till morning, tbh. I took the VIP balcony. I’m sure you’ll find it. See you!”

He read the text and went still. He wanted to reply, to do anything, but the fear of showing any emotions towards you made him just leave you on seen.

++

Before the party, he was really nervous, but when some time passed, he eased himself—especially when he saw you. It was a great party. Unlike he thought earlier, you spent more of your time with him and introduced him to your friends.

You two were sitting now on the bench in that pretty park that he sometimes passed by while driving back home from work.

The party was practically over, and most of the people had left, very much like you two. The thing was that he was now sitting with you—drunk, be for real—but still, you were making him feel butterflies. It was probably the first time he had talked this much with someone.

“…and then I jumped back in that pool, and Mom was so angryyyy.”

You laughed out and put your head on his shoulder. He felt it. Felt that moment. The opportunity. He moved his arm up a little bit and pulled you closer. You leaned into him automatically.

The closest chance lightened before his eyes. He took your chin up and looked at you. A drunk mess—well, a pretty beautiful drunk mess. He lifted your chin and kissed you.

The precious moment he had long waited for, he had dreamed of, now came true. He didn’t know how long it lasted, but when he looked at you after, he felt it wouldn’t be the last kiss.

He will make sure it won’t be the last kiss.

[sentbycyberlofe]

I NEED more wesker x reader fics I FEEL LIKE IVE READ EVERYTHING PLEASE GIVE ME WHATEVER YOU KNOW

[missjasmine98]

oh to get a smut but from Wesker's perspective mmmmmmm what a dreammmmmmmmm!!!

[missjasmine98]

He'd pull my hair and drag me closer to his crotch while I'd giving him my head, tell me cruel words which would turn me on. He wouldn't be really quiet, he'd make that sexy noises. Grunting and whimpering while I'd be sucking his cock giving him that sweet relief, tasting his salty seed on my tongue with glossy eyes.

[missjasmine98]

Happy birthday to me 02.04.2026❤️ Albert Wesker just fucked me as a gift, I so loved it, but the bed is broken.

[missjasmine98]

Wesker, who is well known for being a top Umbrella researcher, would be very impressed if I managed to gain an even higher position than him.

From his perspective, I never really seemed like I belonged here. Too pretty—beautiful, even. Well-dressed. But there was one thing he had to admit: I was smart, very observant, and sharp. I was also well-dressed and mean to the others, which, in his eyes, was a good thing—selfish people live longer, right?

But as time passed, the more he worked with me, the more drawn to me he became, day by day. Every time I was heading home or leaving early, he would do almost anything just to keep me there five minutes longer. He would hide my car keys or my bag, pretending he hadn’t seen them. He enjoyed watching me get annoyed, that strange feeling in his chest growing stronger, along with the need to kiss me.

As the days passed, he began to realize just how obsessed he had become with me. It’s not like I didn’t fancy him—he was very handsome, and his behavior was undeniably captivating. But still, I was far more nonchalant than he was.

He started subtly, with small touches. A hand on my waist while reaching past me for something, lingering a little too long. Intense looks when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.

As his obsession grew stronger, he began to follow me home, watching me from a distance. He would even go as far as installing cameras in my house while I was asleep.

He quickly created a file containing every single piece of information about me—every detail of my life carefully collected and stored.

He would put a tracker on my phone and check my location every time I wasn’t at work. He’d stalk my social media, saving every single post. On weekends, when I didn’t upload anything, he would actually miss me—which was strange, considering I posted almost every day.

He became obsessed with every image of me, especially the ones in bikinis at the beach or in more revealing outfits from nights out with my friends. Those pictures lingered in his mind far longer than they should have on the level that he would literally touch himself to them often at the evenings.

[trulyumai]

—The Clone and his Secretary IV

Pairing: Zeno / fem!Reader

Description: Zeno dreams of you— softly and without remorse. He craves the thought, the image of you. And he can’t wait any longer to make you his.

Warnings/Tags: Cursing, Zeno being Zeno.

Authors Note: Man im on a roll. I’m glad I can keep busting these out because soon my exams will be here and my stress will have me disassociating. Anyways, enjoy lovelies!

Previous Chapters: I. II. III.

Word Count: 1,674.

Extra: You do NOT have to be caught up on the chapters to read this story. They can be treated as one shots.

Zeno didn’t go home right away. He just fucking couldn’t. Not after your face— after Victors god damn gall and audacity, no way.

So, he drove.

No destination in mind—just the low hum of the engine beneath him and the quiet stretch of empty roads bleeding into one another. The city lights blurred past in streaks, distant and unimportant. His hands rested steady on the wheel, gloved fingers unmoving, his posture rigid in a way that hadn’t eased since he’d walked out of that building.

Since he’d left you there.

His jaw tightened.

The image wouldn’t leave him alone.

You behind that desk—small, soft, still trying to explain it like it made sense. Like any of it made sense. Your voice, quiet and careful, insisting it was “just a check-up.” The mark on your arm. The way your fingers had twitched under his touch.

The way you’d said you trusted Victor.

Zeno exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Stupid,” he muttered under his breath.

He didn’t know if he meant you.

Or himself.

The car slowed.

Turned.

He didn’t remember deciding to go back to his place—but he was there anyway. The engine cut. Silence settled in around him, thick and immediate.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

His hands stayed on the wheel.

Still.

Tense.

Then finally, he leaned back in the seat, eyes closing briefly.

And there you were.

Again.

Not the way he’d left you.

Not pale and unsteady and too damn trusting.

No—this version of you was different.

Softer.

Warmer.

Safe.

His eyes opened.

That was enough of that.

—

Sleep didn’t come easy.

It never did.

Zeno wasn’t the kind of man who rested. His mind didn’t quiet—it calculated, replayed, sharpened every detail into something useful or something dangerous. But eventually, exhaustion won in the only way it knew how.

Abruptly.

Without permission.

—

The house was quiet.

Not empty—quiet.

The kind of quiet that felt lived in.

Warm.

Zeno stood in the doorway for a moment, something unfamiliar settling in his chest as his gaze moved slowly through the space. It wasn’t large. Not extravagant. Just… clean. Simple. The faint scent of something warm lingered in the air—tea, maybe. Or something cooking.

Domestic.

The word sat strangely in his mind.

He stepped inside.

The floor didn’t echo like marble.

It didn’t swallow sound.

It held it.

Soft.

Grounded.

And then—

Movement.

You. You in a pale slip that showed off every curve— every god damn crevice that kept his eyes trained on your figure.

You crossed the room like you belonged there—because frankly, you did. The house fit your aesthetic. Soft, cozy and warm. Your hair was loose and there was a softness to you that felt… untouched. Unbothered. And Zeno Loved that.

“You’re late, baby,” you murmured, your voice warm in a way he’d never heard before.

Zeno stopped.

For a second, he just looked at you.

Really looked.

No tension. No confusion. No distance. Something in his chest loosened. Baby? God, he could die a happy man, forget of the burdens of life, of the promises he made to the company— for this. All for this.

“…Got.. held up,” he replied, his voice lower, but not sharp. Not cutting. You looked absolutely beautiful.

Your voice?

Divine.

You stepped closer.

Close enough that your fingers brushed lightly against his coat, pushing it back from his shoulders like it was second nature. Like you’d done it a hundred times before.

“I’ve cooked your favorite, It’s on the stove cooling,” you said softly. Smiling at him like he wasn’t a man infected, like he deserved such kindness.

Zeno exhaled, slow, as your hands moved to his sleeves, sliding the coat off him with quiet ease. His gaze didn’t leave your face. Not once.

“You waiting up for me, sweetheart?” he asked.

Your lips curved slightly. A light pink adorned your cheeks and the warm lighting cascaded it.

“Always.”

The word landed somewhere deep.

Too deep.

His hand moved before he thought about it.

Coming up to your waist—firm, steady, like it belonged there. Like it had every right to be there. He pulled you in without resistance, your body fitting easily against his, soft and warm and real.

Not fragile.

Not something to avoid.

Something to hold.

His thumb brushed lightly along your side, slow, absentminded, like he couldn’t quite stop touching you once he’d started.

You didn’t flinch.

Didn’t tense.

You leaned into him.

That alone nearly undid him.

“…Missed you,” you murmured. “So much.”

Zeno’s grip tightened slightly.

“Yeah?” he asked, quieter now.

You nodded, your hands resting lightly against his chest, fingers smoothing over the fabric like you were grounding yourself in him.

“Mmh.”

His hand slid higher along your back, slow, deliberate, feeling the curve of you beneath his palm like he was memorizing it. Like it mattered.

Like you mattered.

His other hand came up—fingers brushing gently along your jaw, tilting your face just enough that he could look at you properly.

No fear.

No hesitation.

Just you.

Looking at him like he was something worth wanting.

Zeno’s expression softened.

Actually softened.

Something rare. Something unguarded.

“…C’mere,” he muttered, quieter than anything he’d ever said awake.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead briefly against yours before his lips found yours—slow, deliberate, not rushed, not forceful. Just… there. Warm. Grounding. Like something he hadn’t known he needed until now.

You melted into it.

Soft.

Willing.

Your fingers curled lightly into his shirt, pulling him closer like you didn’t want the space between you at all.

Zeno’s hand tightened at your waist, pulling you flush against him, his other hand sliding into your hair, holding you there—not controlling, not forcing—just keeping you close.

Like he wasn’t letting go.

Not this time.

Not here.

The kiss deepened—not rushed, but heavier, slower, his restraint slipping into something more tangible. His thumb brushed along your jaw again, then down your neck, tracing the line of your pulse like he could feel it under his skin.

You sighed softly against him.

That sound—

Something in him snapped tight.

His grip shifted, pulling you closer still, his mouth moving against yours with more intent now, more weight behind it. His fingers pressed into your side, grounding himself in the feel of you, the warmth, the softness—yours.

Real.

Safe.

His.

—

Zeno’s eyes snapped open.

Dark.

Sharp.

Immediate.

The room was cold.

Empty.

Silent.

His hand clenched against the sheets, breath heavier than it should have been, his jaw tight enough to ache. The ghost of it lingered—your warmth, your voice, the way you’d leaned into him like it was natural.

Like you belonged there.

Like you belonged to—

He sat up abruptly.

“Fuck.”

The word came out low, rough, dragged from somewhere deeper than he liked to acknowledge.

His hand dragged down his face, slow, controlled, like he was physically pulling himself back into reality. Back into what was. “Fuck!”

Not what he’d just—

No.

Zeno swung his legs off the bed, standing in one smooth motion, tension snapping back into place where it belonged. Where it needed to be.

That wasn’t real.

That wasn’t you.

You were still in that building.

Still sitting behind that desk.

Still letting Victor put a needle in your arm and calling it nothing.

His jaw tightened.

The softness from the dream—gone.

Burned out.

Replaced with something sharper.

Colder.

More focused.

“…No,” he muttered.

Not happening.

Not again.

His hand flexed at his side, gloved fingers curling as his mind snapped back into place, every thought narrowing down to one singular, unshakable point.

You didn’t belong there.

And he was done letting you pretend otherwise.

Zeno reached for his coat.

Already moving.

Already decided.

He’d given you a choice.

That was generous enough.

If you didn’t take it—

His expression hardened.

He’d make you.

[missjasmine98]

oh yeah mmmm the idea with the dream omg I love it!!! I already got scenarios before bed after reading this xx

[missjasmine98]

Aby thoughts on Wesker with a lover who's smaller than him? They're like 150cm tall, the top of their head barely reaching his shoulders (I love height difference dynamic)

We all love height difference!! I really love the idea it is honestly great 🤩

Everybody knows that Wesker is 6'3 tall but with partner who is around 4'11 tall would be a bomb combination. He'd be picking you up often and basically babying you, not mocking of course you're the most important thing to him but he would just have that unknown need to babying you. Also he'd mess your hair a lot, play with it, style it like you would be his doll. He would even give you permission to lay down on his lap while he would be working.

[missjasmine98]

My tram is gonna be by 7 minutes

[missjasmine98]

I'd love to be picked up from work by Albert Wesker. After a long, boring day it would be like a relief, a healing potion, a precious time in my safe space offered to me by my lover. He would open the door of his luxurious, black BMW for me and I would sit back, no, melt, even sink in to the leather front seat. While driving, he'd be holding his strong, big hand on my thigh, caresing it softly with his thumb 'till we would get to our house.

[missjasmine98]

Oh it's not right! EVERYTHING WENT NO RIGHT!!!

I can't decide between Albert and Zeno wtfffffff like yk even if it's still clone of wesker I DON'T GIVE A FUCK on that level that i am literally making scenarios before bed that Zeno is a fucking Albert Wesker but after re5 and it's so no right damn i have to lock in...

guessing that's the biggest proof and problem of me being loyal like i can't have two hotties in the same time even if they're fictional bc im too loayallllll!!!!!!1!!!!111!!!!

[missjasmine98]

Imagining Wesker in his teenager era where he was in high school for example, like you know, super high leveled school just to make him perfect and follow the project W. When he was maybe 17 and still was a virgin, just because he's too focused on education and virology. Then amazing, intimidating, beautiful me caught his eye. For me this privat school, booked by my rich parents was just a duty 'cause an 17 year old girl had to do school right? I wasn't like Albert, not even a bit. I was loud, funny and reckless. Going out with my friends was like an ordinary weekend. My grades was far, far at the end of my list and graduation year after year was just a money play by my father. It wasn't really hard for Wesker to hook up with me, I was wet for him by even looking at him. I think everybody can see this popular girls pull to nerdy quiet boys. When it comes to the thing, it was amazing just to the both of us. To my quite experienced myself, it was the best night in my life, but for him.. even better. It was like a start to addiction. He wanted more and more. He wasn't able to stop thinking about me, to stop touching me.

[missjasmine98]

Sitting in my physic class and thinking about submissive masochist Wesker. Like i would have smashed a bottle on his head and slap him just to release my anger and how he would be still coming back and worship me like a goddess. He would be kneeling for me and deep inside pleasing, begging and yearning for me to do these terrible things to him again. He'd want me to smash his head against the wall, to feel as aroused, as he was the last time, to feel his cock hard by my actions again. And for the grand finale, later the evening, I would ride that dick, looking directly at his mesmerizing eyes knowing he's all mine, knowing that he's like that only for me. When the pleasure would get us into its claws, I'd hug to him in the bed and half asleep say how much i love him, while he'd be gifting me with soft kisses all over my face.

[jveryslightlymad]

I say we let him in 👀

[missjasmine98]

come in and im gonna come making a fountain of wetness 😛

[missjasmine98]

Wesker loves playing with your hair. After a night out with your friends he picks you up home and instead of getting mad at you, he actually takes care of you (cause' of he has good humor that day, rare!) He would prepare you a bath and change you in your pajama set, while you're very close to fall asleep in his arms. Then he'd braid your hair, brush it or just toy with it.

[missjasmine98]

i love that wesker and birkin was so matched that even after their deaths their kids have found the way to each others