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The night it all began

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LYCAN CHRIS LYCAN CHRIS

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this is the real plot of resident evil 6 trust me I have 135.5 hours in that game (this is a cry for help)

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my favorite part of resident evil 6 is at the end of chris’s campaign when him and piers get into the escape pod and then they take piers to the hospital and give him a cure or something and make him all better and then him and chris make out passionately and live happily ever after in the bsaa together <<<333

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O Captain My Captain

Pre-Resident Evil 1 (Remake) (RE2 Remake RPD) Albert Wesker x S.T.A.R.S. Member!Reader F/M, NSFW (full tags/read on ao3) 2,545 words

Prev Work in Series

Full series on ao3

Summary: You and your Captain, Albert Wesker, crossed a line in your professional relationship. Now he's all you can think about. But does he want you in the same way you want him?

A/N: ayy whats up sorry this took like a month im taking a summer calculus class and i got swamped with work because im a level 1 procrastinator. final next tuesday too so im super stressed consider me finishing this work as procrastinating on my classwork lol how the turn tables or whatever. can u guess what's gonna be in the next installment *monkey covering eyes emoji* ??? anyway i have like 2 more works planned before getting into RE1 territory hehehe

How did you get here? This less-than-typical Friday night, slowly becoming Saturday morning as the clock ticked.

You supposed it started when you were 18, enlisting in the army straight out of high school. You wanted something concrete, something that would put you on the right track.

Along the way, you developed an interest in virology—you couldn't remember where it stemmed from, probably a magazine article. So you completed a degree in microbiology with a concentration in virology. After college, you worked at a small clinical research lab before the company lost funding and had to make some budget cuts. You. You were one of the budget cuts.

It was pure coincidence that the one and only Albert Wesker found you in the crowd of people at the job fair you attended. It was pure coincidence that you were at the job fair in the first place; you only found out about it the day before when you finally decided to sort through your junk mail. How lucky were you that he was looking for someone with a background just like yours for S.T.A.R.S. You remembered the way you swept the room, catching the handsome stranger staring at you like he knew who you were. You toyed with the idea, if only for a second.

Turning off the water, you stepped out of the shower and grabbed your towel. Halfway on autopilot, you started your nightly routine. It felt nice to dedicate this time to yourself. To say it had been an eventful day at work would be an understatement. You couldn't get it off your mind—get him off your mind. His scent, his heat, his taste. Albert Wesker, as reserved as he was, had shown you a side of him you never expected to see. One that left you wanting more. You wondered if he felt the same.

The next day, you went to work as normal. Wesker was already in his office when you got in. You were just setting your things down when Captain Enrico Marini of the Bravo Team approached you. He was on his way out when you exchanged polite greetings before he informed you that Captain Wesker wanted to talk to you in his office.

Gently knocking on the door, you walked in.

“Y/N, welcome in. Shut the door behind you, would you?”

So Wesker was back to his cold, stony self. He sat behind his desk, skimming through paperwork, those damn glasses shielding any semblance of emotion that dare peak through. You never wanted so badly to see past the facade.

Closing the door, you stepped further into the small room, noticing the closed blinds. Did he do that just for you?

“Good morning, Captain,” you greeted even though it was 3 PM, “Or—afternoon, I should say.”

Though you couldn't see his eyes behind the dark tint, you could tell they were on you. How invigorating. “Good afternoon. How did you sleep?”

The question caught you off guard. It wasn't the flat delivery of your captain’s words that did it; you'd grown used to that. Come to like it, really. No, it was the simplicity, the casualness of what he asked. As if he hadn’t turned you into a writhing puddle of whimpers and moans less than 24 hours ago. But more than that, it was the explicitness. Any variation of “How are you?” would have been Wesker just being polite; it was something he asked anyone without particularly caring for the answer. He didn’t ask you how you were, though. Albert Wesker was very precise in his words. And he had asked how you slept last night. It had to mean something, didn't it?

Truthfully, after you got in bed, you tossed and turned, replaying the memories of you two together, debating whether it was just the culmination of pent-up sexual tension or if it was something more, something deeper. You couldn't come to a conclusion—all you knew was that you craved to feel his touch again.

“I slept fine,” you lied. “You?” 

His face didn’t falter as he kept his gaze trained on you. “Like a baby,” he said.

It made you grin. You didn't even know why; it wasn’t funny. It didn't mean he was bantering with you, did it? For all you knew, Wesker had changed his mind, regretted it, realized it was a mistake and was trying to soften the blow, “last night can't happen again.”

You hated how quickly your mind could ruin something for you. He urged you to take a seat.

“You seem nervous.” It was like he was studying you, trying to read your mind. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to talk about our training.”

Our? Not your? You felt your pulse quicken as you quirked an eyebrow. On edge, you watched the older man’s lips and jaw as he spoke, observing how he shaped every syllable.

“I think it was certainly for the best. You’ve improved quite a bit.” 

Your breath hitched.

“Oh, thank you, Captain,” you tried your hardest not to stutter, but it only resulted in odd pauses between words. “It definitely helped. I appreciate your guidance.” 

You tried to smile sweetly to get the double meaning through, but your face was too tense. He smirked nonetheless.

“My pleasure,” he replied. Did he know he was driving you crazy? “I’m counting on you to keep those skills sharp on your own from now on.”

“Of course, sir, I will.” That must mean, “Just to clarify, that means no more weekly training?” You tried not to sound desperate.

Wesker shook his head, much to your disappointment, but you supposed it couldn't last forever.

“Oh, don’t look so upset, darling,” he taunted, standing up and rounding the desk until he stood in front of you. With a gentle touch, the older man lifted your chin and leaned down until he was inches away from your face. “I’m not through with you yet.”

He closed the distance, taking your lips in his. You kissed him back, breathing in what you could of his aroma.

You couldn’t believe the way your body reacted to his touch. It bordered on pathetic the way your heart skipped a beat and your skin flushed. You felt like a schoolgirl with a crush. It didn’t help that the man was gorgeous in a way you couldn't believe possible.

Your lips slowly parted ways, the palm of his hand caressing your cheek. “You’re free to leave, dear,” Wesker excused you before straightening back up.

You stood slowly, not wanting the moment to end, watching as your Captain settled back into his chair. He caught you staring again, but didn’t inquire. You turned toward the door, but couldn’t help it; you had to know.

“Can I ask when we’ll be… meeting again?”

Thursday. He'd tell you when and where.

And so, you waited. On Wednesday, you were back after two days off, and so was Wesker. You came in a little early and caught him in the parking garage. The two of you made your way to the office together.

“Did you do anything fun?”

You smiled to yourself. It felt nice.

“I went movie hunting,” you replied.

“Anything catch your eye?”

You were giddy the rest of the day.

The next day was business as usual until halfway into your shift. Wesker slipped you a note hidden between paperwork.

“Y/N, double-check this and file it for me, will you? I’m late for a meeting,” Wesker requested, placing the file on your desk.

“Of course,” you tried not to sound too eager.

When Wesker left the office, you heard Chris scoff in amusement.

“What does he think you are, his secretary?” he joked. You laughed with the others and grinned to yourself.

A few minutes later, you made your way to the clock tower as per the note’s instructions. You left the S.T.A.R.S. room, passing the locker rooms to the right, hoping no one saw you going upstairs instead of down. Walking past the west storage room, you opened the door to the clock tower room, not expecting to see Wesker so close. Your captain waited in front of the window, peering out. The evening light illuminated him in contrast to the dark room in a way reminiscent of an oil painting, or maybe a marble statue, highlighting the smooth curvature and sharp edges of his bone structure; he was a work of art. He barely stirred at your presence, allowing you to come to him.

“Captain,” you announced. Wesker finally turned to face you.

“Y/N.”

You made your way to him hesitantly, unsure of whether to make a move or wait for his lead. You filled the silence in the meantime.

“Can I ask why the clock tower?”

“It’s the most isolated part of the station.”

Of course.

Wesker put a hand on your waist, pulling you to him. “I want to hear those lovely sounds you were making for me again.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you stood flustered. Wesker made quick work of pinning you to the wall. You decided to forgo a bra today, instead opting for your favorite tight-fitting tank top with a little bow on the plunged neckline and lace trim all around. He pulled off your uniform, letting out a satisfied hum.

“What am I going to do with you? ” he growled like you were a new project for him to work on. You kind of liked it. He squeezed your breasts and teased your nipples through the top. Your lips parted as you leaned your head back, feeling every little touch.

Almost immediately, his lips were on yours, sucking at the soft flesh. The two of you were well aware that people would become suspicious if you were away for too long; the urgency manifesting as sloppy kisses and wandering hands. Your bodies moved in tandem, drawn to one another, the closeness, the intimacy, growing the arousal between your legs. You devoured each other’s mouths, hardly noticing that Wesker was leading you anywhere until your back hit the cold metal bars of the clock’s bell cage.

The two of you retreated for air. You stared at your Captain as he began to unbuckle his belt, your hands already working to remove your own jeans. Your panties were soaked when you took them off.

“Turn around,” he instructed, the slightest hint of want an indication of that cool, calm demeanor beginning to crack. You used the bars as support, arching your back and spreading your legs, the combined anticipation and cool air in the room making you shiver.

Wesker took your ass in his hands, gripping the flesh and planting a small smack to your bare cheeks, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

His hands crawled up your body, rubbing up and down the exposed skin of your torso as he pushed your shirt above your breasts. You felt his hard length pressing against you as he kneaded them.

Your cunt ached, the wetness already smeared along your lips. Your Captain reached between your legs from behind, rubbing along the sensitive folds. Coating his fingers in your slick, he ran them back and forth over your clit, your hips following his movement. It felt incredible—you gasped and moaned as quietly as you could.

“All this excitement for me, darling?” Wesker whispered as his fingers began to circle your entrance. You clenched involuntarily around nothing. Slowly, his fingers dipped inside, a delightful pressure that sent your eyes rolling into your skull. “You flatter me. I might just need a taste next time.”

All you could muster was a weak whine before Wesker began to fuck you with his fingers. You squirmed under his touch, gripping the bars in front of you and sucking in quick breaths. As he stretched your pussy, your body reacted by jerking and exhaling rapidly, uncontrollably, absolutely consumed in the pleasure until you were begging him to fuck you.

“Ohh, please, Captain, I need to feel you,” you panted, “I need to feel you, please fuck me.” You pushed back into his hand, feeling the wet smear of precum against your ass as he gently thrust against you, sending tingles through your body.

Wesker grunted, “Well, since you asked so nicely—” He pulled out his soaked fingers, spreading your slick onto his dick before lining it up with your hole. He pushed in completely with one steady motion and your jaw fell slack, a gargled moan escaping your throat. 

“Oh, you liked that, didn't you?” he teased as your cunt tightened around the rich fullness of his cock. You only whined in response, desperate for him to start moving his hips.

“My needy slut.”

His? A wave of arousal spread through your lower half. You were on your toes as Wesker eased into a constant rhythm. His thrusts were powerful, methodical; not too slow, not too fast. You held on to the bars, matching his pace as Wesker plunged into your pussy, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your waist, holding on to you just as tight. His dick dragged along your walls so deliciously, making your attempts to keep quiet futile. Broken moans and whimpers snaked their way out of your mouth, the pleasure building up, but even then, it wasn't enough—you needed him deeper.

You hooked a leg around one of Wesker’s, trying to spread your legs wider; Wesker helped by lifting your thigh. He realigned his hips before pushing into your soaked cunt once more. 

“Fuck—” you whined, your head snapping back, “—yes, so good, fuck, Captain, mmm so deep,” you babbled, rolling your hips back onto his hard length, gripping onto him with your pussy. He let you fuck yourself on his cock, a deep moan emanating from his chest.

“That’s it, tell me how much you love it, dear,” he growled, holding on to you tight, “how much you need it,” he grunted, thrusting into you again.

“Oh, god, Wesker, need it so bad, been waiting all week.”

He picked up the pace, moaning your name. “That pretty cunt was made for me.”

Hearing Wesker claim you in such a way sent a shiver up your spine. You held onto the bars for dear life as your Captain fucked you hard and deep, feeling every inch of him inside you. His fingers dug into your skin as he buried his cock in your pussy. The pleasure was mind-numbing, it coiled deep within you, tighter and tighter by the second. Your hips jerked uncontrollably as it built up and finally pushed you over the edge. You came hard, the sudden contractions of your walls enough to send Wesker there with you—you heard the man grunt before he filled you to the brim, fucking you through both your orgasms.

Wesker handed you a rag to clean up. By the time you regained the strength to turn around, he was already pristine and picking up your discarded clothes. He checked his watch and excused himself; he really did have a meeting to go to.

Your head rushed as you made your way back to the office. 

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The Dominoes Fall

Pre-Resident Evil 1 (Remake) Albert Wesker x S.T.A.R.S. Member!Reader F/M, NSFW (full tags/read on ao3) 641 words

Summary:

Wesker finds himself alone and aching for you. He’s been pulling the strings, and now you’re in the palm of his hand, whether you know it or not.

Prequel to Shooting Practice.

Notes: literally 3am right now i was working on the second installment of my re series and i felt kind of bad that it was taking me so long (literally wrote like 2k words then decided to scrap it and start from scratch) so i wrote this really quick in an hour or two i know its shorter but i hope its enough for now, im working on the next instalment as we speak <3 (figuratevlilyl??? (however u spell it) bc i have to go to bed now im sleepy :) )

also did not proof read this shit before posting ill do it when i wake up enjoyyy

edit: finally proof read 4 days later oops

Albert Wesker entered his apartment after a long day at work. He took off his belt, making his way to his room, searching for one file in particular. He sat on the edge of his bed and pulled out the familiar photo attached within.

Wesker had his eyes set on one of his employees. He wanted someone loyal to him to assist him in his work. He had Ada, but she was hardly loyal. And he was looking for something more; for someone who would not only join him in his research, but stay at his side, obey him, worship him.

He’d been eyeing this woman for a position on his S.T.A.R.S. team. She had military training and even better: a virology degree. And he couldn’t deny it; she was certainly a sight for sore eyes. He had to have her. 

Normally, Wesker had more restraint. But everything was finally falling into place, and the excitement was giving way to an increasingly unbearable pressure in his pants. He gave in and palmed at the bulge as he memorized every detail of her face.

Over the two years that they worked together, his interest in her grew. She was quiet and reserved, but most importantly, she was obedient.

Wesker saw the way she stared at him and wondered what went through her mind. What was it? Could she see through his facade? He knew she was smart and had a keen attention to detail, but she kept her cards close to her chest. She had to know more than she was letting on. It drove him mad.

She intrigued him; he wanted to know what drove her, but her responses were always brief. Was he wasting her time? He needed to know more. He tried pushing the limits to see how she would react. The first time was with a small “dear”. He enjoyed the way she flushed and stammered over her words.

Wesker’s clothes lay discarded as he fully grasped his cock, dragging his fist from tip to base. He imagined how she’d react if he called her something a little more obscene. Would she beg for more? 

He’d been getting more handsy, from small touches to get her attention when she was consumed in whatever was in front of her, to the gentle hand placements as he passed behind her. The lower his hand got, or the longer it lingered, the more flustered she’d get.

He picked up the pace before slowing it back down. He wanted to feel every inch of her skin, to hold her flush against his body and hear her shudder. His hips thrusted into his own hand. 

Wesker saw the way she bit her lip when his hand grazed across her lower back. He knew he needed to get her alone.

He leaned his head back, squeezing at his length as he pictured her face contorting in pleasure as he plunged deep inside her…

Wesker exhaled shakily as the warm, sticky fluid spilled over his stomach. With one last look at her photo, he closed the file and placed it on his dresser. He had mulled over an inconspicuous way to get her to himself. He couldn't be too obvious, and he needed time to consume her mind completely, to leave no room for her to walk out.

And the perfect opportunity arose during a seemingly routine assignment. He put her in a position where the odds were stacked against her. She was never the sharpest shooter—her real value to him was her mind. He knew she would be rusty. And now he had his excuse.

He pulled her into his office. “I can’t have one of mine running around with an aim like that.” 

She averted her gaze.

“Friday nights—I’ll reserve the shooting range.”

Everything was falling into place.

next work in series

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scooby doo but daphne has a gun

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Shooting Practice

Pre-Resident Evil 1 (Remake) (RE2 Remake RPD) Albert Wesker x S.T.A.R.S. Member!Reader F/M, NSFW (full tags/read on ao3) 2,477 words

Summary:

After a less-than-exceptional performance on your last mission, your boss, Captain Albert Wesker, decides on weekly one-on-one shooting practice. But the stolen touches and hushed conversations that riddled your workdays put a different lens on this alone time. What happens when he finally has you to himself?

Notes: part of my new Resident Evil series on ao3 (stop_the_bus), planning on making stand alones that are still technically related but we'll see how that goes.

You didn’t usually enjoy your Friday night shifts, but these past couple of weeks had been different. Your boss, Albert Wesker, Captain of the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team, usually kept to himself in his office. The man was so well put together, so well-spoken. Always so deliberate in everything he did, everything he said. He was strict, sometimes mean, but you couldn’t deny he was an excellent leader. He looked out for his team and exuded an aura of confidence and security that sometimes bordered on cockiness. You couldn’t help it if you tried; the man was a magnet whose pull you couldn't escape. 

It happened slowly over the last two years, starting with calls to his office to go over your latest report. His voice was firm, smooth—it sent shivers down your spine. Eventually, he started asking you to come closer, look over the report, “Let me know if I’m reading this right, Ms. Y/L/N.” Then came the gentle hands on your arms, your lower back, whenever the two of you were alone, each little touch creating a shockwave of electricity through your body. He would speak to you in a low, hushed voice, call you things like dear or darling. His piercing blue eyes would stare into yours, making your breath hitch and your heart skip a beat. He would begin to ask things about you, though you rarely got any answers back from him. Wesker was mainly interested in your degree in microbiology; you specialized in virology, similar to him, though you were no prodigy like he was. He would ask you if you planned to study more, perhaps take on a research position for a company like Umbrella. You would scoff, S.T.A.R.S. was enough for now, but if you were to change your mind, “you can always come to me,” he assured you.

But those encounters were too few and far between for you. Nor did they ever escalate beyond that. Until your last mission, that is. “Good job, everyone. Y/N, a little rusty with the aim back there, weren’t we?” he teased. Your cheeks went hot as the older man singled you out in front of your teammates. “Come on, she wasn’t that bad,” Chris had come to your defense. You thought you saw Wesker’s lip twitch downward. So now Friday nights were a one-on-one shooting practice with your Captain.

One shot. Two. Three, four, five.

Wekser tapped your hip, signaling you to stop and take off your ear protection. You complied, almost shaking from the nerves. You really were a little rusty, and it certainly didn’t help that you could practically feel his hot breath on the back of your neck.

“Here,” he guided your hips and shoulders, coaxing you to relax them a bit more. Briefly, you felt something hard brush against your ass. “So tense,” he clicked disapprovingly, “I know you can make proud, darling, just relax. Try again.”

You bit your lip as his hand squeezed your hip and wandered up to place your muffs back on your ears. With one last glance at your boss, you did as you were told.

That was about a month ago. This week, you lead the way down to the firing range. Once inside, you turned around to see your Captain locking the door behind him. You glanced up, meeting the black tint of his sunglasses.

“Go ahead, show me what we’ve been working on,” he encouraged as he took his usual place to observe.

You did well; the training paid off. With a celebratory grin, you spun around, waiting for your boss’s reaction. A devilish smirk played on his lips as he watched you.

“Come here,” he beckoned with his fingers. There was a slight inflection to his tone you’d never heard before; it intrigued you, drew you to him like a moth to a flame. You set your gear down on the table and faced him. Wesker’s hands were on you in an instant, pinning you between him and the table. He held you there, squeezing and rubbing circles into your hips. You could feel the warmth radiating off him and that familiar strain now against your lower stomach. “You performed so well for me, didn't you?” he cooed, a hand reaching up to lift your chin. Your eyes met his, body tingling with anticipation. It was finally happening—the moment you'd been fantasizing about for so long. You gripped the edge of the table behind you as he leaned in closer, whispering into your ear, “I think you deserve a reward for all your hard work.” The hand on your chin wandered down to your breast, where he gave a gentle squeeze before resting back at your hip. You gasped at the contact. The man pulled back, “Would you like that, dear?”

There was fire in his eyes you'd never seen before, a hunger. It was intoxicating, being so close to him, yet not close enough. “Y-yes,” you struggled for the words, trembling under his touch. “Please—sir.” Wesker wasted no time in pulling you onto the table and pressing his lips to yours in a fervent kiss. You parted your thighs just enough for him to fit between them.

The kiss was short-lived, though, only a small taste of what was to come. He broke it off, pressing his forehead to yours. “Good girl,” he praised, rubbing up and down your thighs. He loosened his grip and leaned back. Your eyes were drawn to his chest; the top few buttons had been undone sometime while you were shooting. It made you hot to think you had any sort of effect on him. Your eyes attempted to wander lower, but were interrupted by Wesker’s hands on the hem of your shirt. “Arms up,” he ordered before pulling it off.

You used to feel silly for wearing lingerie beneath your uniform to shooting practice, but the way Wesker’s mouth parted in awe made it all worth it. A warm, wet wave of arousal spread between your legs.

“My, my, what do we have here?” Wesker growled, palming over the unlined garment that covered your chest, allowing you to feel every stroke across sensitive nipples. You sighed, rolling your head back and shutting your eyes. You arched your back, mouth agape, leaning into the touch. The ache in your pants grew; you rolled your hips into the table, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Taking the hint, Wesker pulled his hands off your breasts and started on the button of your jeans. The absence of his touch left your skin scorched. Lifting your hips off the table, Wesker pulled your pants low enough to see the matching panties you wore for him. He chuckled before pulling your jeans off completely, leaving you in your underwear.

“Naughty girl,” he teased, taking in the sight of you. His taunting only worsened the ache, causing arousal to pool at your entrance. Wesker wedged his way back between your knees, one hand firmly on your waist and the other on your chin as he took you in for another kiss. It was slower, more deliberate this time as he sucked and licked on your lips. You placed a hand on his exposed chest, fingers smoothing over the warm skin. He reciprocated by running his hands up to your breasts, and back down to your ass, grabbing and groping as he went.

Instinctively, you spread your legs wider and scooted in closer. Your tongues found each other, deepening the kiss, both desperate for more contact. You took matters into your own hands, pressing one against the base of his neck and the other on his waist. His actions mirrored your own until your chests were flush against each other. You wrapped your legs around him and rolled your hips into his bulge, eliciting a groan from your Captain. It was heaven to your ears to hear him so vulnerable.

Wesker laughed as he broke free from your grip. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you, sweetheart,” he murmured, placing kisses along your jaw and down your neck with a gentleness you never expected from him. At the same time, his hand worked its way between your legs, stroking and rubbing through the fabric. Your moans were soft and quiet as he sucked and nipped along your collarbone, your hips swaying to the rhythm of his touch. 

You dared run a hand through Wesker’s neatly slicked back hair, the other exploring its way greedily along the muscles of his arm, shoulder, and back. After marking your neck, Wesker met your gaze, watching you intently as he pushed aside the fabric of your underwear, gliding his fingers over your wet folds. The lewd sounds made you blush, but you didn’t dare look away from the absolutely wild expression on the older man’s face. He was enjoying himself, enjoying the way you whined and whimpered, so eager for him.

He slid a finger into your wet cunt, eyes blown wide with lust. “Darling, you’re soaking,” he uttered, voice heady and rich with want.

You bit your lip and moaned, rolling your eyes back as Wesker worked his finger inside you. “Mmm…more,” you barely whispered, but Wesker was ready, adding a second finger, pumping them in and out of you. You rocked your hips into his hand, panting, struggling to contain the noises emanating from your throat. Your hands reached for your chest, deciding to discard your bra entirely. Wesker took it as an invitation, licking, sucking, and biting at your nipples. You tangled your fingers in his hair and held on tight to his shoulder, one of your legs hooking around his thigh. His fingers worked your sweet spot while his thumb rubbed over your clit. Your hips jerked at the combined sensations, your hand balling into the collar of his shirt.

“That’s it, princess,” he encouraged, sending another shot of pleasure through your body.

“Oh, Wesker,” you whined into his shoulder. A low groan rumbled through his chest. He picked up the pace, the wet sound of his fingers in your pussy driving you insane. “Fuck, please,” you begged, chasing your climax.

“I’m here, darling,” he replied, his free hand gripping your figure tightly to him. He leaned into your ear once more, “Come for me, angel.” 

That was all it took; you let out one last whimper into the crook of his neck, letting the flood of ecstasy and relief wash over you. Your walls clenched around his fingers and your thighs closed as much as they could with Wesker’s hips in the way. You lowered your hand, squeezing his forearm to stop, the contact becoming too much for your sensitive nerves. He slowed down, fingers sliding out with a wet pop. 

Wesker held you as you came down from your high, catching your breath. His fingers lightly grazed over your folds, the touch lighting a new fire within you. You lazily fiddled with his belt, but quickly realized you couldn’t undo it with one hand. Instead, you settled on gently cupping and squeezing his erection. Wesker moaned and bucked into your hand, gripping the table for support. You took the opportunity to nip at the soft skin of his neck.

His jaw was still slack when you readjusted yourself to get a better look at your Captain. The man who never faltered, caught off guard, moaning at your touch? It was a glorious sight—he was gorgeous.

“Needy slut,” he growled, the gentleness he once showed you gone, replaced by a fiery need. “You want me to fuck you, is that it?” he panted.

Your cunt throbbed, wanting nothing more. Feigning innocence, you nodded. “Please, sir,” you pleaded sweetly, spreading your legs and arching your back to emphasize your chest. “I need you,” you purred. His chest heaved as he undid his belt. In return, you removed your panties, completely bare for him. 

Wesker lowered his pants enough to free himself, your mouth watering at the sight of his cock. He stroked himself a few times before closing the distance between you two once more. Moans escaped both your lips as Wesker eased himself into your cunt, the sensation a pure bliss. He gave you a second to adjust, forehead resting back on yours, before testing the waters. He slid his length out, leaving just the tip in before pushing back in with more force. You moaned into his mouth as your lips met again in a sloppy exchange of saliva, his hips picking up the pace. Your legs wrapped around him as Wesker rocked into you with fervor, the sound of skin on skin and the combined sounds of pleasure emanating from your throats creating a symphony of lust and filth.

When your mouths weren’t connected, the words Wesker babbled into your ear only fanned the fire.

“My pretty little slut, you take me so well.”  

“That’s it, dear, so good, so wet.” 

You responded with curses, by moaning his name, and mumbling nonsense into his neck as he picked up the pace. You slid your hand down to play with your clit, feeling your walls clamp around his length. You pulled Wesker close with your legs as his arms did the same to you, coming around his cock, feeling his hips sputter and lose their rhythm as he followed suit. With a low growl, Wesker pumped in and out, spilling his release deep in your cunt.

The two of you remained joined together, chests rising and falling rapidly as you caught your breath. When he finally pulled out, you felt your combined messes drip out of your entrance. You clenched around the emptiness while Wesker revelled in the sight in front of him. 

Once again, he held your gaze as he fingered the mixture of fluids in and out of you, coating his fingers before bringing them up to your mouth. You obliged, sticking your tongue out and sucking his fingers clean. Wesker gave you one last open-mouth kiss, a string of saliva connecting your mouths as he pulled away.

Wesker pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to clean himself off before dropping it in your lap. You watched, enthralled, as the man put himself away, smoothing out his ruffled clothes and hair. When he spoke again, you had barely gathered your undergarments.

“Do me a favor and clean this mess up, dear,” he requested, replacing his glasses. Wesker handed you the diamond police station key, instructing you to drop it off at Chief Irons’ desk on your way out.

And just like that, Wesker was gone, the buzz of the ceiling lights and his fading footsteps echoing in your ears. The soreness between your legs reminded you that it wasn’t just another dream. You couldn’t wait for next week.

next work in series

[i-hate-edward-cullen-3000]

I’m cooking rn

[i-hate-edward-cullen-3000]

playing resident evil is very stressful because there are monsters and hot people everywhere

[i-hate-edward-cullen-3000]

[i-hate-edward-cullen-3000]

do you think john seed gives his silly little backstory to everyone before their confession or is the deputy special

[i-hate-edward-cullen-3000]

Yeah my life might be complicated but at least me and [fictional character] are living our best lives right now.