faggotbeloved

[faggotbeloved]

I love the way you wrote my request, it was so cute! 🍊 what kind of treats/meals do you think he would offer or make for reader?

Hii!! Thank you =33

Cw for Wesker's childhood!!

└───────────────────────┘

I think Wesker would be fond of cooking filling 'fancy' meals with a partiality to pasta, lamb, and fowl other than chicken and turkey (too pedestrian). He likes certain soups and avoids others, preferring creamy side dishes to having soup be a full meal. He likes red sauce over Alfredo and has a mild allergy to a few herbs that he still uses because "the taste is worth some minor maladies."

As a child, he frequently was denied food that left him full and now enjoys sharing meals that leave you sleepy and slow with contentedness. He enjoys cooking a lot, actually. His perfectionism shows when he's in the kitchen: he counts searing to the half-second and the decimals in degrees, has a high-end scale to the milligram since he sees it as chemistry and firmly believes it's an exact science, and studies cooking to know what he can reasonably add in for flavor. He keeps you near him to taste his food and ensure it's to your taste.

Wesker encourages healthy diets out of a preservation for your health, but occasionally whips up some sweet treats as a rare gift. Crème brûlée is his personal favorite, but he also enjoys pan au chocolat, danishes, soft caramels, dark chocolate, and pies. His tastes in other things are old-fashioned and he still prefers the others; he likes traditional milkshakes and homemade ice cream (now that he has a taste for it), cake from basic ingredients rather than a box, and nearly threw up in the store when he saw a sausage roll of 'cookie dough' that was apparently safe to eat raw. His favorite topping is raspberry jelly, and he thinks it can go with almost anything.

I think if he allowed himself hobbies, he'd enjoy fermenting—he'd make mead and wine mostly—and would also like being a pretentious espresso nerd. He avoids soda usually, but really likes loose-leaf tea and cried the first time he tried hot chocolate because he saw other kids drinking it in the few films he was allowed to watch and always thought he missed out.

┌───────────────────────┐

Thank you for the follow up anon!! =3 I will assign you an emoji (orange of course) if you return 🤫🤫

[faggotbeloved]

Could you possibly write yandere wesker pining for a fem reader who doesnt want him ? Or maybe doesnt even notice hes around half the time .

The thought is , the reader is nearly on his intellect , a leading scientist in her field who utilized it all to become a corporate woman . Maybe selling medicine that actually works* instead of so many side effects

They've met a few times . During umbrella , their humble beginnings as an idea is she was perhaps his first ever love interest though one sided and they met again briefly after but she always humbled him which left him intrigued and irate but it was admirable none the less . Years of pining leaves wesker to be fed up and finally deal with these feelings gnawing at hid cold heart by any means

I've been sitting on this for a while and have decided that I'm not very comfortable writing for a fem reader, I'm sorry. This is an excellent request, and I actually suggest writing this yourself or requesting this from other blogs like @ghoullean ! I'm a m/gn reader blog; that's in my profile, bio, and rules and I'd rather not twist a request into what I'm comfortable with instead of write what I enjoy. /nm!

[faggotbeloved]

Written from this request! Love the prompts anon =3

Cw: Bigger + dombot reader, bottom reader, frotting, wesker is touch starved, anal sex, riding, choking, orgasm delay, magic orgasm denial cock ring, praise, overstim, crying, wesker goes into subspace (?), dubcon if you squint really hard (?),

└───────────────────────┘

He’s beautiful like this, you think. You much prefer it, anyways. Albert Wesker, the terrorist that held the world in his hand, reduced to a slack jawed, teary eyed mess on your shared bed by just foreplay.

“Hhng–faster, please,” he murmured politely, whining even louder as your rough, warm palm sped up against his cock and you ground your own dick against his. You dwarfed him, both in hand size against his dick, and your (much more) massive cock that had no use for now. Your huge thighs settled on either side of him, your pants off and your shirt still on even though Wesker was completely naked.

With a breathy chuckle, you leaned down to kiss him bruisingly, swallowing his moan and watching in amusement as he chased your lips, but just wasn’t tall enough to get far. “There we go, beautiful. Barely touched you, and you’re already so ready for me,” you cooed, grinning as he bit the nearest flesh to him.

“Don’t patronize me,” he hissed, but his voice was cut off when you squeezed his dick just right. “Darling. Inside you. Please,” came his broken whisper as he arched into your touch. God, he was so wrecked already, and you hadn’t even settled on his cock yet.

“My big, strong scientist. You can go more than one round, can’t you? You’re gonna cum from what I give you, or not at all,” you grit out, slipping your other hand from where it held you up on his chest down to his throat (though, you naturally copped a feel of his perfect tits beforehand).

A quiet whine followed by a gurgled moan came from him in reply.

“No? Too fucked out now to talk to me?” You cooed, grabbing lube and something else, hidden from his view. “You can’t go more than one round?"

Wesker, hardly comprehending a word you were saying, shook his head limply, twisting in pleasure as you stroked his cock in one hand. “Please,” he whined through his choking, bucking into your palm cupping both his and your dick.

“So, so fucking pretty, Albert. You can’t even think past getting your dick wet. But—sweetheart, you just admitted to not being able to go more than one round! It sounds like I have to—”

“No, no, no cock ring,” he whined, shying away. “I wanna cum when I want…”

“When the hell was that an option?” You cooed sweetly, choking him tighter until a gasp bubbles up from him, then letting go.

Albert moaned as you slipped it on, snug against his balls and tight enough that it won’t let him cum until you take it off. He uttered a complaining, “Nooo…” but the way he flushed, contrasting so clearly against his pale skin, betrayed how turned on it made him.

You guided his finger to your ass with one hand, making him feel how you’d already prepped for him. “You want inside me, sweet thing? Come on, prove it,” you whispered while your other hand played with his chest.

“Please, please, pl–fuck!” He gasped as you sank down in one motion, a sharp arch as he tried to bury himself deeper out of instinct nearly lifting you in the air. “My darling, you're going to be the death of me,” he grit out between hyperventilative breaths. The stretch was not unpleasant, since you were a man of a large stature and could fit it, but you kept slow, elliptical motions until the lube from your ass was coating his cock fully.

Once you sped up, Wesker was broken. Shattered into a thousand pieces, a continuous stream of whimpers and sniffles and moans egging you on until you realized he was close. You slid your hands down from his chest and to his throat once more. “You're not coming until I say you are. You hear me?”

“Yes! Yes, anything, but please, don't make me wait too long!” He hoarsely pleaded between desperate gasps as you restricted airflow to him.

“What a sweet, pathetic thing,” you cooed as you stroked his cheek. “Where’s your big brain now? You're just stupid for me now? So good for me, you know that?”

Wesker didn't reply. He just whined louder and louder as you rode him for (what felt like) hours on end, not stopping even as he sobbed desperately and gazed up at you with hazy eyes. It wasn't until you asked him a question that he gave any real answer to you. Before, the comments and remarks that you'd made fluttered into his mind and melted and dispersed in the form of tears or drool or precum.

“Albert. Do you want to come?” You asked clearly.

Once the words settled into his brain and clicked, his eyes widened and he perked up. “Mm! Mmhm! Mm–please, please, please!”

In one smooth motion, you snapped the cock ring where it was nestled, mercifully avoiding anything that would have been damaged, and then buried yourself to the hilt. Wesker nearly screamed, but held himself back, his settled-upon whine drawn out and breathy and pornographic.

“No, no, stop trying to quiet yourself. There we go. Let it out. You're so loud for me, Albert. I love that,” you chuckled, running your large hands through his hair and tugging on his scalp to force a couple extra moans out. “There's my good little scientist. Do I need to wait for you to get your brain back, or should I cum now around your over-sensitive cock?”

“N-now. Now, love, please,” he sobbed, gasping in pleasure as a spurt of hot cum got on his chest, his chin, and his lips. He licked them eagerly, weakly thrusting into your ass, which tightened around him with the force of your orgasm. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he whimpered over and over as you rode through the aftershocks.

You smiled as you laid down beside him, pressing him into your chest and watching him dazedly regain his mind as he fought with sleep. The last thing he remembered was a hazy kiss where you pet his hair gently and whispered nonsense in his ear.

┌───────────────────────┐

Wah… so sorry it's taking so long you guys. Hope you enjoyed this anon!! I added some extra stuff for my own enjoyment and did NOT proofread or revise so… =,3

[faggotbeloved]

I want to have orange floats with three steps ahead wesker and I want to make him eat ice cream cause I feel like he needs to indulge in sweet treats more 🍊 maybe then he would be jolly happy

HAHA!!!! Perhaps!!!!!

Cw: none =) guy gets some ice cream!

└───────────────────────┘

"It's... sticky," Albert remarked, unconvinced, as he stared at the glass on the table. You managed to set it down before he slid a coaster under, so now he was mentally counting down the seconds until the orange fizz hit the heirloom mahogany island you were seated in front of.

"That's part of the charm," you retort. You nudge his glass towards him, the scoop of vanilla unsticking from the side of the glass and floating up. He sighs reluctantly, glancing up at you before he grabs a nearby dish towel to clean off the orange soda spilling over the side.

Suspiciously, Albert picked up the glass to observe it carefully, pointedly putting a coaster down before he offered you your own. "I don't want the cherry. It looks carcinogenic."

With a snort, you use your straw to stab his cherry and pop it in your mouth. "Bee, that's the least cancer-causing part of this drink. Drink, or I'm spilling mine over this island." Though, you do actually use the coaster.

He sighs dramatically, tilting it up and tasting.

"It's pleasant," he remarks, though his eyes narrow with calculation. "I wouldn't have expected the flavors to be good together. Though, in hindsight, the citrus—"

"Al, you don't need to scientifically explain why it's good. Just drink," you rolled your eyes, kissing his nose affectionately.

Albert huffed and had some more, begrudgingly finishing the glass. "It's extremely calorie-dense with no nutritional benefits. Its only redeeming factor is the taste, which is sickly sweet and artificial tasting. However, I see the benefits and... would like a bowl of just the ice cream. Perhaps I would like to try a maraschino cherry."

┌───────────────────────┐

Time for my monthly post!

Read my other Wesker works?

[faggotbeloved]

We have to get one thing straight, guys!!

As much as Wesker would love to get railed from the East to the West Coast, he's also a huge fan of soft sex =((( poor baby has hardly had any positive affection in his life. His childhood was... far from ideal, any flings (or quick fucks between Chris/William/etc) were strictly business, and he hasn't let anyone in. Until you.

So to lay beside him, to kiss the column of his throat and stroke his cheek adoringly? To whisper in his ear all the reasons he's beautiful rather than what dirty secrets you want to bring to light next? To go slowly—push his hips down, you're setting the pace, you're taking care of your smart, overworked, sweet boy? That gets him woozier than choking him out (even though he's a fan).

Maybe he likes both at the same time! For you to grab his hair roughly, then press a tender kiss to his forehead and eyelids and nose and cupid's bow and then toss him back down onto the bed.

My point is, just because he looks so pretty brainless and bloody doesn't mean he won't look pretty crying and asking so sweetly to come.

[faggotbeloved]

sorry to hear you haven't been getting much recognition for your Wesker works :( i hope you find more success in your original character works, n we'll miss you!

It happens! I'm not abandoning him entirely; I still plan to finish up requests and keep writing fandom works, but I am excited to share my own little guys with the world =) I'm still so thankful for the immense (to me) attention it got in its early days! Recently, though, it feels like I'm running to catch a bus that'll never stop for me. I know I should write for myself and not for others, but it's hard!!! I'll miss you all, but I won't go far!!! =))

[faggotbeloved]

Kick-the-Bucketlist | Edward Nashton x GN!Mayor!Reader

Cw: home intrusion and stalking, 1 year post-The Batman (2022), 3rd person but the phrase "the mayor"/person/ whatever is substituted for a name, edward has escaped

└───────────────────────┘

A Reál Change. What a bullshit slogan. As soon as she was nearly killed before the flood, Bella Reál named some up-and-coming annoyingly charismatic politician as her endorsement for her early retirement, stating they had the better plan for disaster relief. They'd been flying well enough under the radar so that no journalists tried to air their dirty laundry, they stood for mostly the same things as she did, and they were young enough to empathize with the masses and mature enough to be experienced.

Plus, Edward admitted, they were definitely not hard to look at.

Edward scowled at the TV in his little shed on the outskirts of Gotham. He needed to lie low until there was a new, more pressing villain—the GCPD would want to assuage the fears of the survivors and claim the dangerous terrorist responsible for the destroyed seawall was recaptured, so they and that mask-wearing not-so-tragic antihero would hone in on him. He knew that would happen, of course, but he missed being able to blend in. With his face posted online for people to thank or curse at, he couldn't exactly walk into a crowd and see this shiny new mayor in person and interact like a curious citizen.

A house visit would have to do.

Edward mused to himself as he walked, clad in a replica of his trademark costume, to the new mayor's humble home: a single family residence, but he could forgive that. It wasn't a multimillion dollar mansion, it was a family home that was a little higher end than market price, was all. The mayor's first action pissed lots of people off, but it was a step in the right direction. They dismantled Renewal, using the entire fund to actually renew Gotham. Then, they requested a meeting with the reclusive Bruce Wayne to discuss the fund and how to move forward, resulting in a charity that serves a similar purpose, but thoroughly crafted to exist without the loopholes.

Gotham rebuilt over the past year, thanks to its new mayor. They took care of much of the mob due to the sloppy power vacuum Falcone's death created, gutted the police department, and allocated the majority of their time to correcting long-corrupt mistakes. They were called an 'insane extremist liberal' by the people whose pockets were significantly lighter by their new policies, and an angel by those who were able to eat without sacrificing heat for the week.

Edward was pleased to know his followers had been planning without him. Simpler plans, sure, but they held the spirit needed to keep the revolution going. They took care of a couple assassinations here and there, and now half of his to-kill list was crossed off. He just... needed a look around before he determined if he should add the mayor to the list.

Foolishly, the mayor had a sign poking out from their manicured lawn that told Edward exactly what to tap into to unlock their back door without triggering as much as an alert. After an embarrassingly short session with his laptop, the exterior door swung quietly open, revealing the cool night air of a sleeping house.

Their bedroom is upstairs, Edward determined, probably at the end or on the left side of a hallway. No family, pets asleep and luckily quiet, and the cameras are looping for the next hour.

Edward pulled off his mask, strolling around the kitchen like he was trying to memorize it. The fruit bowl was low—our mayor really did eat it, then? Not just decor?—the pet bowl was an automatic feeder in the kitchen, the fridge was stocked with a single-person house's staples, and the table had an empty glass sitting on it.

How lazy. Edward picked it up with a knuckle and brought it to his nose, inhaling the lingering scent of wine. From this evening? All the stress could drive someone to drink, he understood. He ran the sink, rinsing and scrubbing and drying just to put it on the empty drying rack as proof that he was here. He slipped off a glove and pressed his thumb to the glass, imprinting his identity as a calling card. Then, back on it went as he explored further.

Their living room was tidy in that hired cleaner, hardly used, too busy for recreation kind of way. Pet hair clung to the fabric despite their maid's best efforts, but the remote was too straightened and the pillows too fluffed to signify anything but this being an unused room. What a shame, really—Edward figured the mayor would look lovely in a robe, nursing a morning coffee while watching the news. Or maybe they were more of an entertainment type of person? Edward doubted they'd be a sports fan. More research would be necessary.

As Edward explored, he found himself imagining their presence more and more clearly. Instead of windows reflecting somber blue tones of midnight, his mind conjured the gold of a rare sunny Gotham morning. Instead of occasional crickets and cars whirring by, he envisioned that wonderful voice he played back over and over and over back at his 'hideout, filling the room and those lips brushing over his ear and-

Well. Edward had a job to do. He still hadn't cleared the mayor. Perhaps there were some foul secrets yet. Not that he was looking very hard; Edward just wanted a copy of his hard drive to look through in safety, the house tour was for pleasure.

Edward climbed the stairs, grazing the bannister where the mayor's hands must have touched thousands of times. The house even smelled like their skin... Edward assumed. He hadn't gotten close enough to try yet. It was funny, a revolutionary akin to those guillotining kings was admiring the family portrait of someone holding so much authority in Gotham. At least they ensured that people had bread to eat.

Just as expected, the mayor's bedroom door, the one on the far left (the balcony was what gave it away, of course they'd have the master bedroom and that would naturally be in the center), was wide open and gave a perfect view of the sleeping body. How trusting they were. Where were all their guards? Anyone with a laptop and a desire for homicide could get to them. But this was a nice neighborhood, and their home address wasn't exactly public information.

Edward wandered around the upper floor, greeting the curious pet with his outstretched hand full of food he snatched from the fridge to show he meant no harm.

He'd have to befriend this creature anyways, if he intended to return and be uninterrupted. After noting the soaps they used—brand and scent—their laundry detergent, and pocketing some clothes piled in the dirty basket, Edward started towards the mayor's room.

His first order of business was to get the flash drive, and the too-trusting sweetheart had left their desktop on. One USB later, and Edward was standing over the bed and watching with intense eyes as they slept. His phone, cracked and cheap but safely encrypted, managed to snag a couple decent pictures, what with the poor lighting. He was able to use flash on most everything else in the house, but he didn't want to risk waking the mayor. From the mayor's perspective on the bed, Edward noticed a tree not too far away that would be an ideal perch for watching. It would give a good angle of half of the house, at least.

Edward chuckled and sat at the desk, using the mayor's sleep to browse. No hidden 'homework' tabs containing illegal explicit images, no chat rooms discussing how they were going to embezzle all the relief funds, hell, their photo gallery was squeaky clean. The worst Edward found was porn, but the mayor was only human and it wasn't anything against Edward's morals. Were they really a perfect person? Edward doubted it. There had to be things they weren't proud of. But for now, Edward pocketed the USB drive and smiled as he tugged back on the mask.

Back at his shack, after hours of scouring and finding nothing corrupt, the username TheRiddler and its status turned green as he made his first post since being arrested.

> The Mayor is clean. Take them off the list.

┌───────────────────────┐

Hahaha you are part of my EVIL scheme... you see I have originally written this for a male reader but I'm making gn and f reader versions as an experiment to see if I'm shadowbanned lol. It's either that or there's not a demand for m!reader x riddler lol

[faggotbeloved]

I think I'm shadowbanned so somehow that makes me feel better about like <10 notes a day and 6 notes on what I think was a halfway decent fic with a fairly popular character. I'm gonna maybe post more, but I'm not sure what I did wrong (people write way worse shit on here man..!!). I appreciate everyone who's interacted with me, but I might switch to only really caring about my OCs now since it doesn't feel rewarding and I don't want to put my best effort into something that won't get seen yet I'm incapable of producing anything but it. I will write and finish the anon asks at some point, though!

I might post a redone Edward fic in 2 different genders (gn and... yep, f) to see what gets the most reach. Even if it's female I'm not going to continue writing for it. This is science guys!!

[faggotbeloved]

Doing a small post because I have writer's block like a motherfucker; one sitting, no edits or drafts, just a character and a prompt.

Kick-the-Bucketlist | Edward Nashton x M!Mayor!Reader

Cw: home intrusion and stalking, 1 year post-The Batman (2022), 3rd person but the phrase "the mayor"/man/whatever is substituted for a name, edward has escaped, idfk how anything works and i refuse to do research on this

└───────────────────────┘

A Reál Change. What a bullshit slogan. As soon as she was nearly killed before the flood, Bella Reál named some up-and-coming annoyingly charismatic politician as her endorsement for her early retirement, stating he had the better plan for disaster relief. He'd been flying well enough under the radar so that no journalists tried to air his dirty laundry, he stood for mostly the same things as she did, he was young enough to empathize with the masses and mature enough to be experienced.

Plus, Edward admitted, he was definitely not hard to look at.

Edward scowled at the TV in his little shed on the outskirts of Gotham. He needed to lie low until there was a new, more pressing villain—the GCPD would want to assuage the fears of the survivors and claim the dangerous terrorist responsible for the destroyed seawall was recaptured, so they and that mask-wearing not-so-tragic antihero would hone in on him. He knew that would happen, of course, but he missed being able to blend in. With his face posted online for people to thank or curse at, he couldn't exactly walk into a crowd and see this shiny new mayor in person and interact like a curious citizen.

A house visit would have to do.

Edward mused to himself as he walked, clad in a replica of his trademark costume, to the new mayor's humble home—a single family residence, but he could forgive that. It wasn't a multimillion dollar mansion, it was a family home that was a little higher end than market price, was all. The mayor's first action pissed lots of people off, but it was a step in the right direction. He dismantled Renewal, using the entire fund to actually renew Gotham. Then, he requested a meeting with the reclusive Bruce Wayne to discuss the fund and how to move forward, resulting in a charity that serves a similar purpose, but thoroughly crafted to exist without the loopholes.

Gotham rebuilt over the past year, thanks to its new mayor. He took care of much of the mob due to the sloppy power vacuum his death created, gutted the police department, and allocated the majority of his time to correcting long-corrupt mistakes. He was called an 'insane extremist liberal' by the people whose pockets were significantly lighter by his new policies, and an angel by those who were able to eat without sacrificing heat for the week.

Edward was pleased to know his followers had been planning without him. Simpler plans, sure, but they held the spirit needed to keep the revolution going. They took care of a couple assassinations here and there, and now half of his to-kill list was crossed off. He just... needed a look around before he determined if he should add the mayor to the list.

Foolishly, the mayor had a sign poking out from his manicured lawn that told Edward exactly what to tap into to unlock his back door without triggering as much as an alert. After an embarrassingly short session with his laptop, the exterior door swung quietly open, revealing the cool night air of a sleeping house.

His bedroom is upstairs, Edward determined, probably at the end or on the left side of a hallway. No family, pets asleep and luckily quiet, and the cameras are looping for the next hour.

Edward pulled off his mask, strolling around the kitchen like he was trying to memorize it. The fruit bowl was low—our mayor really did eat it, then? Not just decor?—the pet bowl was an automatic feeder in the kitchen, the fridge was stocked with a single man's staples, and the table had an empty glass sitting on it.

How lazy. Edward picked it up with a knuckle and brought it to his nose, inhaling the lingering scent of wine. From this evening? All the stress could drive a man to drink, he understood. He ran the sink, rinsing and scrubbing and drying just to put it on the empty drying rack as proof that he was here. He slipped off a glove and pressed his thumb to the glass, imprinting his identity as a calling card. Then, back on it went as he explored further.

His living room was tidy in that hired cleaner, hardly used, too busy for recreation kind of way. Pet hair clung to the fabric despite his maid's best efforts, but the remote was too straightened and the pillows too fluffed to signify anything but this being an unused room. What a shame, really—Edward figured the mayor would look lovely in a robe, nursing a morning coffee while watching the news. Or maybe he was more of an entertainment man? Edward doubted he'd be a sports fan. More research would be necessary.

As Edward explored, he found himself imagining the man's presence more and more clearly. Instead of windows reflecting somber blue tones of midnight, his mind conjured the gold of a rare sunny Gotham morning. Instead of occasional crickets and cars whirring by, he envisioned that rich tone he played back over and over and over back at his 'hideout,' filling the room and those lips brushing over his ear and—

Well. Edward had a job to do. He still hadn't cleared the mayor. Perhaps there were some foul secrets yet. Not that he was looking very hard; Edward just wanted a copy of his hard drive to look through in safety, the house tour was for pleasure.

Edward climbed the stairs, grazing the bannister where the mayor's hands must have touched thousands of times. The house even smelled like him... Edward assumed. He hadn't gotten close enough to try yet. It was funny, a revolutionary akin to those guillotining kings was admiring the family portrait of someone holding so much authority in Gotham. At least he ensured that people had bread to eat.

Just as expected, the mayor's bedroom door, the one on the far left (the balcony was what gave it away, of course he'd have the master bedroom and that would naturally be in the center), was wide open and gave a perfect view of the sleeping mayor. How trusting he was. Where were all his guards? Anyone with a laptop and a desire for homicide could get to him. But this was a nice neighborhood, and his home address wasn't exactly public information.

Edward wandered around the upper floor, greeting the curious pet with his outstretched hand full of food he snatched from the fridge to show he meant no harm. He'd have to befriend this creature anyways, if he intended to return and be uninterrupted. After noting the soaps he used—brand and scent—his laundry detergent, and pocketing some clothes piled in the dirty basket, Edward started towards the mayor's room.

His first order of business was to get the flash drive, and the too-trusting man had left his desktop on. One USB later, and Edward was standing over the bed and watching with intense eyes as he slept. His phone, cracked and cheap but safely encrypted, managed to snag a couple decent pictures, what with the poor lighting. He was able to use flash on most everything else in the house, but he didn't want to risk waking the mayor. From the mayor's perspective on the bed, Edward noticed a tree not too far away that would be an ideal perch for watching. It would give a good angle of half of the house, at least.

Edward chuckled and sat at the desk, using the mayor's sleep to browse. No hidden 'homework' tabs containing illegal explicit images, no chat rooms discussing how he was going to embezzle all the relief funds, hell, his photo gallery was squeaky clean. The worst Edward found was porn, but the mayor was a warm-blooded man and it wasn't anything against Edward's morals. Was he really a perfect man? Edward doubted it. There had to be things he wasn't proud of. But for now, Edward pocketed the USB drive and smiled as he tugged back on the mask.

Back at his shack, after hours of scouring and finding nothing corrupt, the username TheRiddler and its status turned green as he made his first post since being arrested.

> The Mayor is clean. Take him off the list.

┌───────────────────────┐

Wrote this in uhhh like 1.5 hours? Idk. I'm sorry to the wonderful anons requesting wesker things, I WILL get to them eventually, but I needed a break from that nerd to go see this nerd.

Truthfully, I think after I'm satisfied with 3SA and all my requests (~4 requests, and a couple more chapters will be made for 3SA if I keep it up), I'll retire Wesker from my brain. I still love him and I still love RE, but I've hit a wall and need to push past it and... sigh... watch someone play RE6. I'm probably gonna just follow Charlie moistcritikal playing RE cuz I've long since been a fan, but anyways!! TL;DR: Wesker's days are numbered. I am still accepting requests though!! Check my pinned for characters and see if any catch your eye =3

Comments, likes, and reblogs are so, so appreciated!

[faggotbeloved]

It's me again! Here's the full idea!

So I've had this idea stew in my mind for a while.

Wesker x Tyrant!male!Reader

Let's say during the S.T.A.R.S. era, Co-Captain Reader died from an accident or something and Wesker would do anything to bring him back.

He uses his lover's body to experiment with the T-Virus as a way to revive him.

It works, but with a catch.

As a result, Reader becomes a Tyrant, like Mr. X or Nemesis. Reader wakes up from his long slumber and escapes the laboratory in search of Wesker, but not without some hilarious antics. (Ex: Walking into a store looking for clothes and unintentionally scaring the civilians in it)

Little did he know that Wesker was out looking for him too.

After a mutual game of cat and mouse, they finally find each other and they both fall in love with each other all over again.

(It starts out angsty at first, but it eventually turns into fluff)

(I hope this isn't too much lmao)

(I definitely listened to One Way Or Another by Blondie while writing this lol)

Definitely not too much!! I love that song it's on my evil guy playlist lol

I think what I will do is lock tf in and write either 1 super long chapter or 2-4 shorter ones but!!' I love this prompt it's so silly =3 I'll prob do infiltrator variant tyrant, and a tyrant reader that's not a clone so they won't look like Mr. X / Nemesis but will have similar powers and features. I want to get this right before I ###### ####### #### so I will research the freak out of this before I start writing.

[faggotbeloved]

Ignore/delete that, it was unfinished.

Got u anon!!! I like the prompt tho, I will stew over it. I like what you have written!!

[faggotbeloved]

is it (please) possible to request a dom bottom reader with a Wesker, with a size kink that refers to both of them? it’s somewhat corny, but I’d love it if the reader was bigger than Wesker (built like Krauser, for an example) and rode that man out of his mind.

cannot really think of a complex plot, but I suppose some mild breath play could fit well with this, and maybe some sarcastic praise added with orgasm control?

sorry if its too much! if you do take this request, remove anything that makes you uncomfortable or that you’re not into. also apologize if anything I mentioned makes you uneasy

NONO I LOVE THIS!!! Don't worry I am a huge fan of dombot + bigger readers. I will work on this and I'm super super happy for this request =3 I've been slow cuz I'm kinda losing motivation so I am eternally grateful !!!

This is not too much I promise you! I've read and written much freakier I promise =)) I'm not sure when this'll be out but it shouldn't be obscenely long. Ty anon!!!

[faggotbeloved]

Mb if this sounds like a question to which the answer is obvious, but do you write dom bottom male reader too? Or is it just dom top?

Hi! Answered this here, I do! I don't see dom/sub and top/bottom as exclusive so I'll write for lots of things as long as the reader has the most control.

[faggotbeloved]

FINALLY!!! I’ve been waiting eons for someone to give some good male reader x wesker content and you’ve delivered it on a silver platter especially with that last chapter. My thoughts for some filler is that reader wants to get back into working out and staying fit as to not go insane and keep clear head by having some control at least on a workout routine (and wesker), wesker agree’s but on the catch that reader has to wear some tight form fitting clothes that shows off reader’s physique (and bulge) so reader ends up using that against wester by teasing him while working out. Wesker would definitely have a scent and sweat kink in this story, since he’s obsessed with reader, so he ends up being on his needs begging to get face fucked by reader so he can taste his sweat and smell his scent before getting railed.

YES I GOT THE FREAKS TO MY BLOG /pos I’ll do you one better anon. Body hair and armpit kink. U can thank some of the dom reader blogs for this.

Three Steps Ahead | Yandere!Albert Wesker x M!Reader

6: VHSes From The Eighties (~3.5k words)

Cw: read the ask; NOT gn this is BOY KISSING MLM GAY SEX!!!, porn with plot, skippable for the gn/fems who were also reading 3SA (ill sum up the plot next chapter aside from sex), reader is implied to be able bodied (stretching, working out, etc—let me live vicariously), making out, sweat kink, scent kink, body hair kink, licking sweat, SO MUCH licking, armpits, blowjob (r recieving), brief medfet, anal fingering, anal sex (wesker receiving), minor nonconsensual voyeurism at the end

└───────────────────────┘

Since that confusing, emotionally charged moment that you still have zero context on, Albert has absolutely pampered you. He took another day off work, then another, and soon he was assuring you that he had enough work already done to take as long as he needed to. He's allowing you certain privileges that previously were only in your past, before even S.T.A.R.S..

Unfortunately, spending every day with someone as unstable and smothering as Albert, despite the new freedoms, meant hours of doing absolutely nothing while he caressed your bare skin and kissed your face and body. He seemed to be making up for something, and yet you had no clue what for.

Finally, you gathered the courage to ask for something he'd already mentioned in passing. As with every new right you'd been restored, there was sure to be a caveat.

“Hey, Bee?” You hummed out as he laid on your lap and watched you play the (singleplayer, of course) video game on the TV. A quiet hum was the only indication of Albert listening. ”I've got a request.”

“Anything you want, dearheart, you may have. Within reason,” Albert declared, pressing a warm kiss to the inside of your thigh. He nibbled the meat of your thigh, just slightly, and grinned as it twitched and you swatted his head gently.

After he stopped gnawing, you told him. “I want to get back into working out. You said I could use the training facility for the B.O.W.s?”

“Ah, of course. You may. You’ll need clothes to wear whilst you exercise, so once I get them for you, you can start,” Albert answered easily.

“I was actually hoping we could go today. I can just wear—”

“No, no, no. You need designated clothes to train in. I can't have you dirtying the sweatpants strictly for leisure, nor do I want you in the gym with swim shorts or boxers. I'm sure you understand. It shouldn't take more than a day to both order and receive them, darling. Be patient,” Albert replied briskly.

He'd been saying that more often, now that you were getting bold with your requests. When he said ‘Be patient,’ that typically signaled the end of the matter. He'd either get it for you or not, but either way didn't want another word out of you.

You sighed and returned to the game you were playing, occasionally answering his questions about the mechanics or moral implications of disrupting the entire town’s careful ecosystem with overfishing and deforestation and farming rare earth minerals. You had to explain that it all regrew, but he was unsatisfied.

──────────────────────

Those clothes were… breathable. Certainly flexible. Definitely tight. He gave you black shorts that reached your mid-thigh and rose just barely above your hips, the fabric more leggings than anything supportive, and a matching tank top that was cut too low for any real exercise benefit.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, feeling more like David Bowie in the Labyrinth than someone going to work out. No matter what you did, the print of your dick was visible in the pants and the tank was so tight you felt like you had cleavage.

“Hey, Albert?” You called through the bathroom door.

“Yes, my darling?”

“I think you got me a size or two too small. It's really tight.”

“May I come in?”

With a sigh, you opened the door and Albert immediately stilled. He let out a low, appreciative chuckle before stalking forward, shamelessly checking you out.

“No, no, the dimensions are correct. This is how it fits. It's stretchy, so it's not tight, just form-fitting,” he murmured, demonstrating by stretching the waistband of your pants easily with his pinky and sliding his hand over the crest of your hip.

With a wry smile and a raised brow, you spoke. “You knew it fit like this?”

“Of course,” he returned. “How could I not? Only the best, most… mobile activewear for my love.”

Pursing your lips, you decided to drop the issue. He wasn’t going to be admitting anything, and you weren’t going to be scoring points by trying to force him to say, ‘Yes, I got these specifically to see your cock through your shorts.’ You settled on a peck on his nose and stepped away, grabbing his arm so he could lead you through the facility and to the training area.

Slowly, a plan formed in your mind. He wanted to get a view? You’d give him a show.

The room itself was large, with machines you’d never before seen and certainly never wanted to try, and a couple normal racks to work with. “I’m gonna do some stretches. I’ll do chest today, I think,” you hummed, bringing to mind the workout routine that all S.T.A.R.S. employees followed loosely to stay in shape.

First, you dropped your bag on the floor and strolled to a mat, popping the joints in your body before glancing back to see Albert’s eyes planted firmly on your ass. Very well. You bent down and walked your hands from your feet down, accidentally making a show of your ass in the air until you were in a pushup position. Then, you did one and you walked your hands back up.

The quiet breath Albert sucked in didn’t escape you. Nor did his inconspicuous way of heading to the wall and turning up the heat by a few degrees.

After fifteen, you transitioned to jumping jacks. Then, back to inchworms. From your place on the floor after the last pushup, you settled into stretching. Every chance you got, you used every inch of stretch that the clothes fit you; stretches showing off your chest, the flexibility of your legs, your ass, and most of all, the print of your cock. When you were done, Albert met your eyes with a hidden fluster. He didn’t think you were teasing him yet.

“You’ll spot me, won’t you, Bee? Just like old times?” You asked sweetly. Old times, like the time you pulled him into the showers after the gym and fucked him against the tile wall, then made him kneel down on the floor to clean you up after.

“Of course. As much as I would like to care for you, it’s not beneficial to have you pulling muscles,” he mumbled, now gazing at your dick, which was still soft, he lamented.

You loaded weights onto the barbell and put it on the rack, settling under like second nature. You felt sweat bead down your back—not overexertion, but from the heat in the air—and pushed forward. You made no move to wipe off sweat; the towel would go missing soon and you hated asking for new ones since he’d always reprimand you for being careless (but you knew the truth).

The first set was easy until the eleventh and twelfth, then you took a slight breather for a drink of water. Glancing back at Albert’s carefully schooled expression, you smiled to yourself and laid back on the bench.

You grunted quietly every time you brought down the bar for the first three. Then, low, heavy breaths came after, and you could look up and watch as Albert’s cock hardened in his pants. When you slipped in quiet ‘fuck’s, he dropped his form to press his palm to his face.

“What do you think you're doing, baby? I need you to spot me,” you reprimanded, racking the bar.

“Of course. Continue,” Albert mumbled hoarsely.

The third rep was hell for him. Moans that could plausibly be denied as exertion came after every rep, muttered curses, and growls came from your throat. Every time he looked away, you called out, “Eyes on me.” Halfway because it was sexy watching him squeeze his eyes shut at your tone, and halfway because he was a distracted spotter and you valued your life.

Then came lateral pull-downs, where you requested he sit by you and keep you company. As you raised your arms above your head, Albert’s eyes trained on the patch of hair coming from your armpits, the base of the hairs slick with sweat. He was so glad he designed it so the shirt’s armhole was dropped so low.

“What's wrong, Al?” You cooed, dropping the machine and turning to face him. He straightened his posture, suddenly realizing from the smile on your face that you were tormenting him for the sake of enjoyment.

“Don't patronize me. You know what’s wrong,” he growled, his hand squeezing his thigh in restraint.

“Do I? Humor me, Albert. What's gotten you so riled up?” You croon, standing up to tower over him. Even as he stares up at you, he’s defiant and bratty. You can fix that.

“You,” Albert snapped. “It’s always you. What else would it be? You know what you’re doing, damnit.” As if on instinct, he brought his hands to your hips to tug down your boxers, where he could just barely see your dick hardening.

With a soft tut, you grab his wrist. “Come on, now. I’m just working out. You can’t even let me finish these sets? You’re that desperate?” You ask, relishing in his scowl at your mocking tone.

Albert exhaled through his nose, his nostrils flaring in irritation. “Finish your set, if you must. Hurry up,” he hissed.

“Now, now. That’s not polite at all.”

“I’m not polite. I’m five seconds from—”

“I know you are.”

After two more sets, Albert just… couldn't. He collapsed to his knees right where you stood, sitting on his heels with an intensity in his eyes that meant no more banter from him.

“Please,” he said simply, a scowl on his face. Once you carded your fingers through his hair, he pressed his face against your clothed crotch and mouthed at the bulge, wetting the fabric with his eagerness. He inhaled deeply and snuck his hands back on your hips to press closer.

“Aren't you—hah—going to kiss me, Albert?” You hummed, to which he pressed his lips feverishly against your thighs. “Up, Al. Wanna kiss you right.”

With a groan of protest, Albert stood on shaky legs, albeit pulled up by his shirt collar. You crashed your lips against his and he eagerly reciprocated, grabbing your hair without any of the restraint he prided himself on. Albert panted into your mouth, using his other arm to pull your waist into his body.

It was a messy, aggressive ordeal. His teeth clashed into your mouth in a desperate, frenetic manner that made you taste blood and told you that you'd have ulcers in the morning, but at the moment it was sexy. This is an egomaniacal scientist who kills without mercy, and you have him moaning in your mouth.

You felt a whine rip through his throat when your nails dug into his scalp and he broke to breathe desperately. After he was satisfied and assumed you had enough air, he brought your lips back to his and fumbled blindly to the wall as spit dribbled down your chin from your shared passion.

“You're going to be the death of me, you know that?” He huffed, licking up some of the saliva before thrusting his tongue through your lips. It was like he'd die if separated from you, hot breath against your own and his tongue violating every space of your mouth.

He took his hand from your head and groped your ass, panting against your neck as he ground his cock into your thigh. In the moment, you stopped kissing him, admiring his kiss-bruised lips and flushed cheeks. “Stop staring,” he mumbled, burying his face on your sweaty neck.

A breathy chuckle came from him and he rut faster against your leg, his tongue leaving his mouth to lick up sweat pooling on the contours of your shoulders and throat, moaning aloud as the bitter taste of your skin invaded his mouth. He didn't stop after he licked one stripe up your neck, no. He kept at it.

A sharp bite made you huff out a groan and a “Watch it,” which he ignored. Another bite, then a messy lick to clean it up that really just served to wet your skin further. All across your neck and down to your clavicle, he basically tonguefucked your skin to taste your sweat. When he came up to kiss you again, you could taste the salt on his tongue and playfully bit at his lip. “Since when was sweat a turn-on?”

“Since always. You were just dense at S.T.A.R.S.,” he grunted, biting your lip in return. “You think I would have spotted you if I didn't have a personal interest?”

“My safety's not enough?” You hummed, pinning him to the wall and bringing your forearms to either side of him. From his vantage point, he could see the thicket of hair from your armpit and switched positions with the superhuman speed he possessed, forcing your hands above your head so he could press his nose into your underarm, burying his nose and inhaling. His following exhale was shaky and coupled with his eyes rolling back, so you freed a hand and took his chin in your palm.

“That's definitely new. How much of a slut for me are you, really?” You teased, but he growled.

“I'm no slut. I'm a God, and if you… if you call me something like that again… damn it all, you smell so good,” he said hazily. Albert whined and broke from your grasp to bury his face back into your neck.

He lavished your neck with attention like it was a matter of life and death. Desperate, wet kisses were pressed to the column of your throat, harsh bites bloomed bruises that’d take days to heal at best, and the whole time he was huffing you like a drug. Once he started rutting onto you like a needy dog, you grasped him by the hair and pulled him back, much to his chagrin.

“Fuck, sweetheart, are you prepped? I can take you right—”

Albert’s eyes widened with alarm, suddenly back in the present. “What? Not yet. Let me take you in my mouth. Before any blasphemous lubricant wipes your taste away. I have to—you must let me—use my mouth, darling, please.” His voice cracked in need as he gave up on his reserved front.

Fuck. Okay.

You watched as he dropped back down to his knees and gazed up at you for just a moment before his impatience overtook him and he tugged off your shorts. You stepped outside of them and before you could stop him, he had your legs up in the air, putting you in an awkward position with your knees over his shoulders and your back pressed to the wall. One hand supported you by gripping your ass firmly, and the other was wrapped around your cock.

“You’re drenched in sweat. I could smell you from the wall when you were halfway across the room,” Albert groaned, licking a stripe up your thigh, moaning at the taste. He repeated this with your other thigh and, without breaking stride, licked up your dick until he got to the head and swirled his tongue around it.

“Fuck!” You hissed at the assault on your nervous system, tightening your grip in his hair. “You remember just how I—mnngh!—how I like it, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” he replied, kissing your tip before looking up at you. He looked ruined; his eyes were glowing something vicious, his face was flushed, and you couldn’t tell from his dark pants and your position, but you figured he’d already cum more than once.

At the lull in action, he took the head of your cock into his mouth, mapping the familiar veins as he struggled to take you after so long of being without you. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his gag reflux down and trying to keep tears from escaping. You swiped his eye, collecting the salty wetness on your fingers and brought them to his lips. You pressed your finger beside your cock, admiring at how he just took the intrusion, then leaned back against the wall and lost yourself in the feeling of his tight, wet mouth.

After the first hurdle of his reflexes, he managed to take you fully into his throat and relished in the whine that ripped from you when he swallowed around you. The taste of your perspiration was heavy on your dick and he was happy he could breathe through his nose so that he could nuzzle the dense pubic hair that seemed to inject lust right into his veins.

Impatient with his slow going, you thrusted as well as you could (being held up in the air, your movement was limited) into his throat and moaned aloud at how his vocal cords reverberated so perfectly around you when he reciprocated a noise. He sloppily hollowed out his cheeks as his head bobbed up and down the shaft, drool dripping onto the floor between the two of you.

Times like these, you wish his body didn't heal so quickly; it'd be unimaginably hot to force him onto an exam table and slut shame him for having a bruise ring in his throat where you slammed your cock into the soft palette. His throat was so tight and sucked you in from every side so thoroughly that you could hardly think beyond the need to go deeper.

When your hips sped up their assault, directed by a base instinct that he seemed to trigger, you were not remotely planning on telling him when you were gonna cum. Instead, you emptied your balls into his throat and collapsed against the wall. You knew your legs were shaking—both from being propped up and from needing to cum—but you at least expected yourself to be able to hold yourself up. Albert, surprised but nonetheless into it, swallowed and took his mouth off your softening cock, cradling you in his arms as he helped you through the aftershocks.

“I've got you. Are you alright?” He asked gently, and when you nodded his lips twisted into a smile. “Good. If you're so alright, you have five minutes. I need you inside me, and I'm not planning to wait too long.”

“Asshole,” you rasped, but your hands were already finding his zipper and tugging it down. His underwear, now that you could feel them, were wet with seed; expected with him. You wondered how the world would react if they learned the man destroying the Earth was cumming in his pants from giving a blowjob.

Albert fished out lube from his coat pocket and tossed it to you, smiling crookedly as you warmed it up in your hands. “On all four, sweetheart,” your sore voice rumbled. Eagerly, he pressed his forearms to the gym floor and kneeled down, his ass in the air and spread for you.

You circled around his hole, letting the lube warm up on his skin and drip down his thighs, then pressed a finger in. You both knew this gentleness wasn't going to last. One finger became two whenever his moans grew in pitch, and two became three. Just as he warned you that he was about to cum (he wanted to be a good boy, after all) you ripped the sensation away.

“No! Please, please I need more!” Albert gasped, trying to chase your fingers. By then, your body had recharged and you found yourself hard once more for the man in front of you. You stood on less-shaky legs and coated yourself in lube, then guided the tip of your cock to kiss his fluttering hole.

When he pressed back against you, and you knew he would, you thrust in all at once, damn near splitting him in half. A pornographic scream came from the man under you, but it was quickly drowned out by the sound of skin slapping skin; your balls and your pelvis rutting against his ass.

You grabbed his hips and fucked into him like he was nothing but a toy, your cock squeezed on all sides by his searing heat. You savored every moan of his, a constant whiny stream that broke into shrieks when you bullied his prostate, and your name was chanted over and over as he got close again. Once he fluttered and squeezed around you, you buried yourself to the hilt and threw your head back as you came deep inside him, watching his untouched cock shoot out another load.

Panting, you got down to the floor with him and, still nestled inside him, snuggled up behind him. For a few minutes, you both laid there satisfied and tired. Soon, though, Albert detached himself from you and stood up. “You’re done in the gym for today. Let’s head back to the house,” he asserted.

“What the fuck?” You replied dazedly, looking up at his somewhat fond, mosty blank expression. “Not everyone is superhuman.”

“Not my problem. Need I carry you?” Albert hummed, scooping you up and helping you back into your shorts. You winced at the cold wetness of the crotch from his earlier sucking but managed to get on your own two feet and padded down the hall.

Judging from the flushed faces of a couple security guards, you could tell either you'd both been far too loud or the security cameras in the gym were on and you gave a very good show. Albert’s limp faded away in a few minutes, and you pushed him off you when he suggested a shower together and another round.

┌───────────────────────┐

I'm sorry Mom and Dad and the god I forsake at age five.

Guys i genuinely had a google spreadsheet of cop workout routine open for this 😭

Also?? So so sorry for the massive break between posts =( getting back into the swing, trust!! I just lost motivation =/

Read my other Wesker works?

[faggotbeloved]

Progress as of right now.

Albert Wesker/Reader

Failed Experiments AU: Unnoticed (headcannons): 0% done

Failed Experiments 2: Frustrations (smut chapter): 10% done

Edward Nashton/Reader

Ur Biggest Fan 1: Bitter Pill to Swallow (intro): 70% done

Hannibal Lecter/Reader/Will Graham

Says [(the Stag) to {the Dog] (to the Raven)}: To Love and be Loved by me (intro): 70% done

Kāron Daniels/Reader (OC)

Yandere Slasher: 1 (intro): 50% done

Ambrose Avarius/Reader (OC)

Yandere Vampire: 1 (intro): 5% done

Kane Valentine (OC)

Yandere Patient: Universe B: 10% done

I'm not too happy with my progress; what currently has most priority is chapter 1 of Ur Biggest Fan and Kāron's intro. Lowest is Kane B, the AU of Failed Experiments, and the Hannigram x Reader. I might scrap the Hannigram one honestly. They'll come out... eventually. I'm still taking requests! Especially small ones that I could answer in one sitting or chatting! I think it's cool to have named anons, so feel free to send anything you like and sign off.

[faggotbeloved]

Sideblog is up! For yandere OC works, see @faggotboulevard !

Big things brewing. (A sideblog for OC work)

[faggotbeloved]

Big things brewing. (A sideblog for OC work)