INTERNATIONAL BABY BOY

INTERNATIONAL BABY BOY

what doesn’t kill you ⦚ pjm

⤷ pairing: jimin x reader

⤷ genre: smut, angst

⤷ warnings: descriptions of illness, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), over-stimulation, orgasm denial, cream pie, cum eating, descriptions of death

⤷ word count: 7,306

⤷ notes: this is not a light read. please refer to my warnings. also, this was going to end up closer to 12k but for the sake of it being a one-shot, i cut down some of it.

Keep reading

wesker turned into a cat. now what?

implied wesker x reader towards the end

summary: yk princess and the frog? it’s that.

no use of y/n - gn!reader

a/n: writing this instead of updating my fic because my brain stopped working. anyways!!! i did not specify what color/breed cat!wesker is so feel free to use your imagination. also the lowercase is intended btw.

he doesn’t know how it happened nor why, but he has to get to the bottom of it. what the hell did he even do to get left in this pathetic state? it should be unreal that this is even happening. but it’s late and he’s the only one who hasn’t gone home yet, so what does that mean?

nap on the comfiest chair and call it a night.

he can figure this out when his mind is clouded with exhaustion. and before anyone sees him like this. he’d likely have to kill everyone in STARS or himself out of embarrassment. but he’s asleep before he can decide on a proper method. do all cats fall asleep so easily?

“aww, where’d this dude come from!? is he yours?” before his eyes are even open, wesker’s being lifted into the air and fawned over by… oh.

it’s you.

you were always early to clock in, and he didn’t entirely hate you. still, he would’ve thought you would know better than to pick up a random animal with god knows how many diseases. not that he’s like that. he’s one of the clean ones, of course.

“a cat? he must be chief irons’…” says chris, peeping over your shoulder. wesker grimaced.

no way would he ever be someone’s house pet, much less that old bastard irons’ house pet. his grimace deepened when chris took him from you. he called out his name, but it came out in a sharp hiss. well, at least he could still show he wasn’t interested in this puny form.

“I don’t think it likes you, chris. look at it. look at its ears,” you say poking at wesker’s little airplane ears. nevermind. you’re just as bad as redfield.

“nah, I’m good with all kinds of animals. just ask claire!” chris laughed confidently. he pulled the catified wesker up to his face and rubbed him against his cheek affectionately. “who’s a good kitty~? who’s a good— argh! what the fuck!? damn cat!”

one good swipe at the cheek was enough for chris to shove the mysterious tom back into your arms. you couldn’t help but laugh at your friend, watching a bit of blood trickle from the cut just under his left eye.

“I told you, chris. karma’s a bitch, you know.”

…

“he can’t belong to chief irons. he doesn’t exactly uh… like animals.”

you’re sitting at your desk, the cat in front of you. across you are jill and chris sitting at their own desks, facing you. by now you’re all stumped. none of you have any idea where this cat came from in the first place. or why he was so menacing for no reason.

“and we can rule out barry.” chris adds. “he’s allergic… so he says. then again he does prefer dogs over cats,” he murmurs. you and jill take his word for it since chris has known barry the longest. “he’s here, but he won’t set foot in the office as long as this fella’s hangin’ out.”

earlier after disinfecting chris’s scratch, the two of you discovered that the cat was a male, though it almost cost you an eye because wesker wasn’t there to be a vulnerable, pitiful creature. however, he will never admit that your belly scratches felt quite nice.

wait. what’s wrong with him? it had to have been a side effect of this whole… situation.

“hey, maybe he can be an office cat! do you think if we ask captain wesker nicely he’ll let us keep him?” you ask. at the mention of his name, albert’s ears twitch involuntarily and he gets your attention with words translated into meows. “no, silly. you’re not wesker,” you pat the creature’s head and smile.

after a moment, jill perks up with an idea. “we should name him! let’s call him captain whiskers for now, hm? it’s like homage to wesker, it’s perfect.” she suggests.

albert lets out an annoyed sigh, again coming out as a low, rumbly meow. the three of you nod in agreement, having officially decided on a name for your temporary pet. however, he notes how things could be much, much worse for him. still, he would’ve expected better from his team. at least you and jill, anyway.

while loving on a random cat carrying any number of diseases isn’t one of your better ideas, he concludes that this transformation will lose effect soon enough and that thing could be much, much worse for him.

well… this wouldn’t be the end of the world, he thinks as you scratch that itch behind his pointy ears.

…

it’s the end of the world.

no work's been done.

barry's been avoiding the office all day so there's no order whatsoever.

rebecca and the other bravo team members are encouraging all the tomfoolery happening.

and worst of all, he's been everyone's muse for entertainment. there was nothing worse than this.

while all of you are goofing around, he's praying a bioweapon barges into the stars office and massacres everyone last one of these absolute hooligans.

"Wait! you can't use a marker on his fur, that's dangerous for cats!" rebecca injects as you and jill are attempting to recreate the lion king with the newly appointed 'captain whiskers'.

you turn around and see chris picking at the bandaid on his face. "hmm. hey, chris! is your scratch still bleeding? mind lending us some blood? we need something red!"

"what the fuck? hell no, are you insane?! use your own blood!"

albert, who's suspended in the air swears up and down that there'll be more blood if something doesn't stop you guys right now. a tyrant, a natural disaster— god, even. but no, he just has to be subjected to what very may well be torture. if this wasn’t proof that the universe hated him, he didn’t know what was.

“i have a sticker,” brad shuts his desk drawer and holds up a sheet of stickers— usually handed out to the children who visited the station on school trips. he peels off a red star and sticks it gently on albert’s forehead while you hold him still. relaxed as he is with you, he’s hating every second of this.

he keeps trying to remind himself that things could still get worse. it could be chris holding him right now. though it looks like he put some sort of fear in chris after the first incident. he hasn’t tried picking him up at all.

“oh yeah, just like the movie,” brad chuckles.

“good thing chief irons isn’t here. wesker too. they’d suspend us all without pay if they were seeing this.” jill says through a smile. rebecca agrees, as do you and chris.

“speaking of which… where even is wesker? did he come in today?” chris asks.

“nah, he didn’t. but he’s really fucking late though,” you giggle. “now he can stop giving us shit for not being on time. i bet he ran out of hair gel or something and that’s why he’s been a no-show.”

still imprisoned in the air, albert hisses and irritated ramblings become angry meows that reverberate across the room. he swiped at your arm, leaving a deep cut along your forearm. as deep as his claws could manage, anyway. he began to flail around, demanding to be set down as he caused a scene.

“woah— hey, dude! little shit— cut that out!” you shout as if you’re scolding a misbehaving toddler. “jesus fuck, i’ll put you down,”

you set him down, and almost immediately he darts to the corner of the room where he leaps onto a cluttered shelf before curling up nicely on a stack of files.

…

it’s been a few hours and things have calmed down. albert remained curled on the shelf, watching as everyone decided to work at their desks the rest of the day. normally he’d be doing the same, but nothing since last night has been even remotely normal.

some of the team went in and out, and barry popped in once but immediately left when he saw the cat again. when the end of the day rolls around, everyone’s getting ready to leave. rebecca goes first, giving albert a little pet before heading out. next it’s brad and jill who leave who bid the cat goodbye on their way out, leaving chris, captain whiskers and yourself.

“you’re taking that thing home? what if he kills you in your sleep?” chris asks, shuddering as you cradle the cat in your arms.

again, albert doesn’t mind. in fact, he finds himself leaning more into your hand the more you insist on massaging his head. it isn’t long before his tired eyes snap open when he realizes he’s purring. purring? no way.

this can’t be. being affectionate isn’t his thing, nor is being on the receiving end of it. he doesn’t like this… but he’s beginning to doubt that belief when he attempts to curl into you. he seriously can’t help it. was this some kind of curse? would he permanently become an actual cat by midnight like fucking cinderella? as if his mind wasn’t already a hell of a mess.

“oh really? i think he likes me. beside, he can’t sleep in the office. what if someone else finds him and kicks him out?” you ask. “either that or wesker blames us for the amount of cat fur all over the chairs and we get in trouble with irons. i’ll buy cat food on the way home, and he can use the bathroom outside like a dog if he has to. what’s the worse that’ll happen?”

that i’ll probably become some mangy cat for the rest of my life, albert wants to say, but is too busy absorbing your body heat to even comprehend anything else. you’re just so warm, and it’s making him feel unwillingly fuzzy inside. at least now he can say his inside matches his outside.

“i’m pretty sure he’s not gonna murder me. he’s a sweetheart, just look at his cute little face,” you grin, using your index finger to scratch that spot under captain whiskers’ chin.

chris shifted his gaze to the creature, who met his eyes instantaneously. a shudder trailed down his spine as he stared into the cat’s cold, calculating gaze that felt a little too familiar. he just shook his head and chose to ignore that sudden weird feeling. “yeah… that’s not the word i’d use, but if you think you’re up to it…”

“of course i am. now walk me to my car before someone actually tries to murder me.”

…

you’re lucky there was one store left open this late at night. the only 24 hour store in the area.

“wet food, dry food, all that…” you say to yourself, buckling yourself back into the driver’s seat. “and…” you trail off digging through the bag before tossing it in the backseat. “a little cat bow-tie!”

you present the navy blue tie to albert who’s sat in the passenger seat. when you hold it out, he sits up a little more. if he’s going to be a cat tonight, he’ll be damn sure to be a proper looking cat while he’s at it.

he lets you clip the collar around his neck and you give him some more scratches for sitting still. if and when he returns to normal, he’d never bring this up. ever. and he’d never admit it… but the idea of being pampered and treated like a higher being sounded quite nice. he knew enough to know that cat owners practically worshipped their companions.

“aww, look at you!” you use both hand to lightly scrunch his little face together. “hm, i’ve always wanted a cat.” you say, pulling your hands away to start your car. “you’re very handsome in that bow-tie, captain whiskers,”

when you arrive back at your apartment, you bring albert into the kitchen and place him on the counter while you find a plate to put the cat food on (you’d forgotten to purchase a feeding bowl). half of it was a bit of wet food, the other half was dry. you wanted to be sure what your new kitty preferred.

“okay,” you say, sliding the paper plate in front of the cat for him to eat. he had to be hungry after not eating a thing all day. “i’ll get you some water, too.” your back is only turned for a second before you hear something hit the floor. slowly, you turn around to see that the plate had been smacked onto the ground. “i— what the hell, dude!”

albert only blinks at you before before sitting himself on the edge of the counter. he’s not about to eat that rubbish, what the hell does he look like to you? you would feed that to a house pet? absolutely not. he’d wait for you to pull something out for yourself and eat then.

“spoiled. whatever… if i give up now chris won’t let me live it down.” you mutter. you grab up the plate and sweep up the food. after throwing it into the trash, you cross your arms and stand in front of the cat. “mmm… it’s fine though. you’re cute.”

you pet his head again, letting your hand glide down his back and scratching near his tail. he seems to like it. he does.

he’s not sure why he’s purring so much, why it feels like he vibrating from the inside out. he stretches out his front legs, spreading out his little toes as he kneads into the counter. it’s surprising how natural this is beginning to feel. is that a good thing? he doesn’t really care, because he’s absolutely lost right now.

this was beneath him.

this wasn’t him at all.

why was he feeling so… so desperate? why did he suddenly feel some kind of emotion— some kind of yearning for affection?

yet albert didn’t attempt to hiss or scratch you. at the very least, he found you more tolerable than most. or maybe it’s because you were always hanging out with chris and between the two of you… he preferred you most of the time. no offense to chris, as he was still a reliable teammate.

albert stands up and pushes his head against your hand, causing you to let out a quiet laugh. the petting increases and his purring becomes louder whether he wants it to or not. you still need to get him some water, so you pull your hand away.

“okay, okay. let me just get you something to drink so you don’t die of dehydration,” you tell him rubbing his back and kissing the top of his furry little head before turning around to find a bowl sizable for a cat.

you find one good enough and fill it halfway. you’re careful not to spill it as you turn around, but the sight you’re met with makes you forget that completely as you drop the bowl and let smash against the tile floor.

“oh, shit—“ you don’t know what to say. “uh… captain wesker…? but how—? th—the cat…?”

his hair’s messed up and his otherwise neat clothes were wrinkled and disheveled. you see that his dark shades are missing, too. what the fuck was going on? were you dreaming? were you asleep? was everything that happened today even real??

right now albert wesker was sitting on your kitchen counter in place of a stray cat— and he looked just as confused as you did. but his confusion was quickly replaced by a nonchalant relief as he uttered ‘finally’ under his breath.

“you.” it’s the first thing he says, feeling slightly delirious and a little flushed. “you’re very warm.” he awkwardly states.

the fuck?

you can feel heat creeping into your cheeks, and you’re sure you’re bright red in the face. looking anywhere except at wesker.

“…you were a cat. how were you a cat? can you turn back into a cat? i think i liked you better as captain whiskers.” you had so many questions. the biggest one being how the fuck your captain turned into a cat. you bring your eyes back to him.

albert slides off the counter, leaning back against it with crossed arms. “captain wesker isn’t good enough for you, hm?”

…and that’s how you found yourself on the couch with your captain sat on the floor in front of you, hands tangled in his hair as you watched the lion king until the late hours of the night.

a/n: cat wesker my favorite menace

thinking about stars wesker courting you without you even noticing. he's somehow always around when your arms are full to open and close doors for you. he's guiding you through busy crime scenes with a hand on your lower back, he's leaning close and telling you "good job, officer" "i'm impressed with your work" "you're one of my best agents" "i can always trust you"

and you start to catch on to what he's doing and begin preening and blushing under his gaze. every time he leans closer you're fluttering your eyelashes at him or biting your lip across the room when you catch him staring.

finally he can't stand it anymore and after you cast him an especially suggestive smile and blush as you brush your body against his in a tight hallway he just has to pin you to the wall, not touching you but towered over you, hands on either side on your head as he leans down and you're close enough to smell his cologne and sweat and you can see the glint of his blue eyes behind his glasses and then he's kissing you and and and and

*autistic wesker voice* complete. global. stimming.

THIS IS THE CUTEST THING IVE EVER SEEN