🧈#2

He has to snap himself from the daydream. Albert Wesker doesn't do imaginations. He doesn't dwell. He gets the job done. It's not arrogance if he has the strength and power to back it up.

So what if he has a god complex? So what, he wants to cull humans and leave only the worthy behind? So what, that he blankly looked at the screen that was projecting the destruction of racoon city in October of 1998, hoping you actually survived and lived elsewhere after.

Life is actually content now. The Uroboros virus is making great improvements. But of course, Excella has to drag him into one of the boring company parties to attract more investors to his deadly virus. He doesn't even like the lady, but she proves to be useful for his greater plans.

He steered clear of anyone in the party, preferring to just sip overpriced champagne from a flute that a butler had offered him.

Soon, two click-clacks of a high heel approached him, and before he could even look behind, there were two hands sneaking to embrace him, and weight of someone shorter than him, nuzzling affectionately to the back of his suit.

His red pupils dart behind in irritation. Who is this lady? He can smell jasmine and a mix of lavender on her body, a mysterious but captivating smell that reminded him of something, but he has forgotten it.

"...May I help you?" He cleared his throat, but made no effort to peel the hands away from himself. Perhaps it's one of Excella's friends, a lonely prized wife of a disgusting CEO who got too drunk to realise where she is going, but then the hands moved, the thumbs gently rubbing against his abs, and he could practically feel a grin on his suit.

"Pfft, that's cute." The woman laughed and buried her face deeper on his back, near his armpits, but he didn't want to clarify. He could feel a tension on his hands, the way the flute would've exploded if he didn't put it down, and finally grab the wrist of the intruder and spin her around, finally coming face to face to a pretty lady grinning up at him.

He didn't recognise who this woman was. He furrowed his brows, scanning her as each second passed, until the lady laughed and shot her hands up to rub her thumb on his face. He recoiled like a startled cat, and almost grunted loudly from the sudden touch.

"Still dramatic as ever, Albert?" She cooed softly. Albert, on the other hand, is getting more agitated. He turns his eyes down and gets nearly distracted by the swell of breasts. The woman is wearing a blue dress, shiny and catchy, with matching high heels. Her hair is braided although messy, like she ran her hands through it too much.

"Do I know you?" He started, he looks more offended that this woman is calling him by his first name more than anything, yet her face fell for a mili-second. Albert caught it, but she changed her mood almost immediately. She smiled and held his bigger hand.

"I'm hurt. You actually forgot me." She muttered quietly, but she looked back up at him, and fluttered her lashes prettily. "Let's have some fun together, perhaps your brain will remember something." She proceeded to drag him to the dessert lounge, the bar, and even to the dance floor.

He's stiff. Maybe because dancing isn't his forte. Maybe because he's flexible but not in a way of waltz, or maybe because the last time he danced with someone was over a decade ago.

He remembers dancing with you. You both had woken up after another one night stand before his alarm blew up. When Tchaikovsky blares on both their ears, you insist on a slow dance with the captain of S.T.A.R.S himself.

You always liked crepe cake. You actually made some in his apartment after Chris annoyed him so much he almost got a heart attack from the stupidity inflicted to him. He spent the weekend with you feeding him sloppy bites of the sweets that he promised he disliked.

By the end of the night, he already figured out that you're [name]. The same [name] with sunken eyes, shy expression, and oversized glasses (seems like you've exchanged them for contact lenses). The same [name] who ruffled his hair, and told him to smile more. You're sitting on a balcony railing with him standing awkwardly beside you. He looks unimpressed, but he's ready to grab your hand if you ever felt cheeky enough to try and do a twisted type of trust fall with him.

"So, esteemed Mr. Wesker. Have your brain graced you with the memory of me?" You whispered happily, your legs kicked like a child, and he only exhaled hard through his nostrils. How did a normal woman like you even end up in this mess?

"To answer your question, I married a dumb oil tycoon and got all the shares after he died of lung cancer. Perks of a young body, huh?" You shrugged and easily dissected the question he hasn't even voiced. When the party's about to end, you hopped down from the railing and pulled his face down by pulling his tie, to press a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I miss you, Albert." You smiled, and that is the first honest expression you've given him that day. After smoothing out his tie, you patted his shoulder once, before running back to the exit. Not seeing the shocked look on his usually neutral face, and his outstretched hand trying to reach out for you, though it is too late.

He stayed awake at the hotel after the encounter. Looking at the regal ceilings while calculating all the possibilities of things he can do. Isn't he a controlled, composed man? Why did he get cold feet? Should he talk more? What is he supposed to do?

He tried to forget about the moment. He turns angry, angry at you for suddenly coming out to his life again when he's about to reach his ultimate goal. He pushed himself to work, completely ignoring all the old memories spent by you, and him.

That is until Excella told him that an investor volunteers to be the first one to get the injection to the Uroboros virus. He's obviously skeptical. He hasn't even done it to himself. But if a stupid investor wants the injection so badly, then they can be his new test subject then.

Miss J is the name. Excella didn't overcomplicate things, which is shocking. She actually kept her mouth shut for once, and Albert didn't feel the need to ask.

So imagine his surprise when he found you only in a tight black lingerie, lying in the bedroom Excella has provided. You're the one who requested it to have the injection in the bedroom. You already have plans, and you want to reenact on them.

“You finally arrived. ‘almost died from boredom.” You yawned and grinned. Albert's grip on the injection serum is tight, and he could only look elsewhere while you're grinning and etching him to get closer.

When Albert moved, he could only glare at you through the sunglasses he always kept on. You smiled and pulled them down, earning two crimson pupils staring back at yours.

“Getting cold feet, Mr. Scientist?” You grinned and offered your left arm. He grabbed your wrist, and grunted loudly.

“What do you think you're doing? Do you know how dangerous this is?!” He yelled. You only looked at him with a pout, and rolled your eyes. You turned your eyes to the injection on his other hand, and slowly kissed his lips to distract him.

While he's gasping from the sudden embrace, you force his left hand to inject the serum to your hand. Everything hurts at first, and you swore you can hear Albert's panicked voice as he saw your eyes rolling back and turning white. He's actually ready to sprint back to his lab and look for an antidote.

Tendrils slowly burst out from the left side of your body. As color slowly got back on your eyes, you can only offer Albert a perverted smile. He looks worried for once in his life, and he let out a stressed breath.

“ugh… I'm sore.” You groaned and turned your head to look at the tendrils coming out from your back. You let out a fascinated gasp, and looked back at Albert with something that could only be described as childhood happiness.

“Albert, are you seeing this thing?!” You loudly exclaimed. The tendrils could only wiggle without any commands, and slowly, most of them envelopes Albert and pulls him close to you, shoving his face on your chest, to be precise. He let out a strangled groan.

Let's just say you survived the whole transformation because you're so horny for Albert fucking Wesker. The only reason you want the shot is because you've always wanted to peg him. Fuck the shit out of him, and obsess over him.

And evidently, the tentacles are just an open book of your feelings. They're rubbing all over him and his leather turtleneck, some of the braver ones are publicly groping his butt.

“What the fuck, [name]? Get that thing away from my ass!” He groaned but he's so flustered, there's a soft redness on his usually pale face.

“Why can't I admire my beautiful darling, Albert? Do you know how long I've waited for this?” You whined back to him. Your hands are now on the zipper of his turtleneck, slowly turning it down while groping him. He lets out a series of gasps and soft grunts. When your finger softly pinches his nipple, he lets out one needy whimper that you've never heard from him before.

“Mmh, such delicious whimpers. Lemme take care of you, Albert. Please? My prettiest, neediest little thing. So touch starved that my touch makes you so hard.” You teased. Your knees are gently rubbing against his erection, and he could only growl, but it died down when you peppered kisses on his jawline.

He looks away, but gives a nod. For once Albert doesn't believe himself to let out a voice that is not a needy-laced sentence. And just after he nods, the tentacles go to work, and as always, rip his pants.

“Do you always have to rip my clothes, [name]? Can't you just take it off like a normal person?”

“Shush, Albert. It's hotter this way!”

After he's literally naked and is resting his dick between her inner thighs, they both go to work. Their lips are still on each other, and her tentacles are currently rubbing and massaging against his virgin ass. He's trying so hard not to moan, but how can he not? When he has the woman from his past kissing and her tongue all over his mouth, her hands splitting his ass cheeks open so her tentacles can do it's job easier.

“Aww, look at you… such a pretty boy.” You'd grin and smudge your lipstick over his face. He just looks so tired, and vulnerable. And he's getting redder at each praise. Seems like the notorious killer really loves admiration and compliments.

You slipped his weeping tip on your dripping cunt slowly. He lets out numerous, sweet moans that you haven't heard for a decade straight. His hands are gripping hard on your hips, his face stuck between your breasts while you petted his hair and cooed softly at him.

“Mmhm, my dirty puppy. Your dick is twitching so hard already~ Don't cum too quickly, okay?” you grinned and tapped his cheek with an index finger. Telling him to move is simply easy. He's eager to please. You'd never expect how compliant he could be. Maybe it's the nostalgic factor, because he knew you before all the mess happened, but then again, was he ever this kind to anyone else?

The smaller tendrils slowly get bold. They stretch just a little inside him, and he lets out a startled gasp. He glared down at you, but he's in no position to complain. Not when you're staring at him with a lovely smile, and you're gripping on his biceps like that.

“Wanna chicken out~? We can stop if you're uncomfortable.”

“Hngh, no! I can do this.”

So that's how now he got two tentacles up his ass all while still fucking the heck out of your pussy. You had used one of the tendrils to get the lube you've prepared. And yes you've fingered him quite gently before letting the tentacles get in. He's as red as a tomato now, and even if he didn't want to admit it, it feels rather nice.

“How are you holding up, big guy?”

“I…I’ll manage.”

And there goes the neediest sex in Albert Wesker's life. He's crushing you like a pretzel. Holding both your thighs on his shoulders, while his cock slipped in and out of your wet cunt. He's getting more sensitive with each thrust. He's been holding out for dear life by now.

“L-let me cum.”

“Awww, you wanna cum? I'm sure good boys would say something else.”

“I am not saying that line, [name]! Just let me cum!”

“Well, dirty boys don't get to be greedy. Think it over when you decide you'll be good, Albert.”

So because of his own ego and inability to say the word, “please”, he's overstimulated to the core. Each slap to his butt, or a hickey on his collarbone makes him spasm, but he holds himself just before he could cum. If you told him to stop and pull out, he'll whine, literally. And his dick is already red, it's genuinely about to start getting purple.

You pushed him down and kissed him again, your hand on his oozing dick, rubbing against his tip. You cupped his balls and went to work on his cock after a short makeout. The tentacles inside him are hitting new spots, and he's whimpering even more. His crimson eyes are getting glassy from the stimulation.

“Ngh – let me cum, please… I can't hold it back anymore.” He'll grovel and whimper. And it felt like 100 love arrows just pierced through your chest. You're smiling and kissing his tip before letting it enter your cunt again.

“Such a good boy! See? Isn't it easy to just be polite and let yourself fall to my arms. You're finally breaking down, aren't you, Albert~?”

“I can't… think straight with a tentacle up my ass, [name]! B-but yes, I fear I'll…”

He groaned as you rode him hard. With a soft slam, he moans and grips on your shoulders. His dick finally spurted all the cum he needed to unleash. And by the time he's done, there's a pool of sperm below the both of you, the liquid apparently escaping your pussy because he keeps thrusting even when he's already in you.

After letting him take a breather for five minutes, of course you have to pay him back. You rose up from his arms, and he looked so heartbroken thinking you'd leave, but then you opened his legs and slipped between them.

“Time for an experiment, Albert. Can these tentacles be my dick of the day?”

“WHAT?”

There goes Albert's ego. It's stomped and then shredded into a million pieces. You apparently think it's a good idea to let the tentacles wrap around your pelvis to be a makeshift strap. Entering him is easy, but seeing him cover his face with one of his arms is just plainly funny.

“Arms off, don't cover those beautiful eyes from me, sweetie.” You smack his hand away, and he growls, but as you grind against his ass, he huffs and looks elsewhere.

Each thrust earns you a soft moan from him. He tries to hide it at first, but then his dick gets hard, and you start biting on his pecs and abs, leaving countless blooming bruises at your wake.

“Fuck! I-i wanna cum again…” he'll slurred. Your tentacles have become more cheeky and brave, evident by the fact that they're currently groping Albert's pecs and teasing his nipples more.

You two spent the night (or day? To be honest no one is keeping note) together tangled in the sheets with many of your horny ideas. Albert came at least three times and he looks like he's in both bliss and suffering at the same time.

But at least you're still around. After the fifth round the both of you are already tired. He trapped you with his weight and legs. He wouldn't admit it, but he didn't want you to leave again. He didn't want you to disappear tomorrow and he'll get 0 closure this time.

As your hands gently carded through his hair, he found himself getting lulled to a gentle sleep for the first time in years. The complications like him not being able to walk tomorrow is future! Wesker's problem, not the current! Wesker, who's receiving hums and kisses by probably the only lady that could outfreak him in every way.