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Summary:

After following some bad information, you find yourself somewhere you don't want to be....

The mercy of Albert Wesker

Notes:

PLEASE HEED TAGS

This is a super self indulgent fic bc I want wesker to beat me within an inch of my life and then fuck me...

Blood, torture and non consensual elements, you were warned!

EDIT: As of 11/1/22 I am back on hiatus, sorry everyone 😭

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Text

    The room was dark, despite the flickering fluorescent bulb that was hung far above you; even though you’d been trapped here for days, your eyes had refused to adjust to the dim lighting. You were strapped to a chair, your hands bound uncomfortably behind your back, and ankles tied to the legs of the chair, bindings just barely too tight. Your head rests against your chest, your chin on your sternum in an attempt to find some comfort in your situation; a steady stream of blood pouring from your nose and lip down your face. Your neck aches from the position, but it’s better than the alternatives. 

    Your head is heavy, swollen and bruised from the beatings you’d received, beatings you’d received at the hand of your former captain,

 

    Albert Wesker. 

 

    You and the other members of STARS had barely survived the incident at the Arklay mansion because of him, you and Jill had barely survived Raccoon City after that. You’d been in Europe, hunting down leads on Umbrella with Chris when you’d been captured, you’d followed a bad piece of information that led you right into Wesker’s hands, unwittingly falling into his trap.  You cursed yourself for not realizing sooner; you’d acted rashly in your excitement, chasing the lead without telling Chris where you were going out of impatience. 

   

    Now here you were, strapped to a chair, waiting for your next beating. 

 

    It was ironic you supposed, you’d always been skeptical that Wesker had actually died in the Spencer mansion. He was too resourceful, too capable, too stubborn; you’d had a sneaking suspicion that he’d survived, something Jill and Barry had assured you wasn’t possible. When you’d gotten the report that another organization was on the rise, with an eerily familiar sounding soldier leading their new task force, you thought you’d finally found the proof that Wesker was alive. You were just going to gather information, it was espionage gone wrong, when Wesker himself had found you stalking the building. 

    You’d tried to get away but he’d been impossibly fast, you’d barely been able to put up a fight before he overpowered you; pinning you to the floor and pulling your arms behind your back. His strength had been inhuman, you never stood a chance. 

    Footsteps echo down the hall, it’s a sound you recognize by now, Wesker’s stride was recognizable enough, you hated yourself for knowing it was him by the sound of his steps. You hated the man who made the sound even more. 

    The harsh metallic sound of the metal door sliding open rings out, the rustling of keys, and the final footsteps. You don’t look up at him, it is a small act of defiance, instead letting your head rest on your chest for a few more moments; you know they are the last bit of comfort you will have. 

    “How are we feeling today, dear?” It’s an empty question, you know he is mocking you. 

    “Fuck off Wesker.” You spit back, still not looking up at him. 

    “My my, full of spirit today aren’t we?” He grabs your face by the chin, forcing you to look up at him. The pressure from his hand is enough to send a dribble of spit and blood down your chin, the fluids pooling around his leather clad fingers. You do your best to glare at him, easier said than done with how bruised your face is. 

    He smirks back at you, condescending gaze looking down over dark sunglasses; he more than enjoyed seeing you this way, he reveled in it. You were still unbroken, audaciously fighting back, even if all you could manage was a mean look. Even bloodied, battered and bruised, bound and tied you were still proud and defiant; he delighted in making you bleed. You wouldn’t look at him this way if you knew how much he enjoyed it. 

    “Tell me…” He begins, hand slipping from your chin to trail up your face, smearing your blood up your cheek until he reaches your hair; he roughly grabs a fistful, harshly jerking your head to the side, pulling tight. He puts his boot in between your thighs, resting his arm on his knee and leaning in closer to you, “How is Chris? Do you think he’s even noticed you’re gone?” 

    “Eat shit Wesker.” You say his name like it is poison to you; baring your pink, blood-stained teeth at him, hoping you look at least a little menacing. You spit at him, feeling a sharp pang of satisfaction when the red-tinged saliva collides with his cheek. He tuts at you, pulling your hair a little tighter in his fist, wrenching your head back and to the side, making you wince. 

    He wipes it away with two gloved fingers, gathering the fluid on his fingertips and admiring it before forcing the spit and blood past your lips, back into your mouth. You’re so surprised you don’t even think to bite him, you try to pull yourself away but he has you pinned; his grip on your hair holding you tight as his fingers explore your mouth. 

    You can feel the leather of his gloves as he runs his fingers across your teeth, scissoring them against your tongue to make sure you can taste the metallic flavor of your blood before putting one finger on either side of the muscle and forcing your mouth open. You make the mistake of looking at him, your eyes flicking up to meet his, which are staring intently at you. A pit forms in your stomach as you realize how much he was enjoying this, how much he loved making you squirm. You turn your eyes away, a hot haze of blush forming over your cheeks when you realize how perverse the act is. 

    You can hear the smirk in the triumphant ‘hmph,’ he makes as he drops his fingers, wiping your spit across your neck. You close your mouth immediately, gritting your teeth, refusing to look up at him. 

    “Hmm? Nothing to say now?” He lets go of your hair and stands back to his full height, towering over you smugly.

“You know…” He begins to circle you, like a beast stalking its prey. For the first time since you’d been captured you start to panic; his demeanor had changed, it was different than when he was hitting or hurting you. It scared you. 

“I never noticed before but…” You stiffen when you feel him stop behind you, feeling his lips brush your ear, “You have a rather slutty mouth.” 

You freeze completely, your blood turning to ice as the gravity of his words hits you like a truck. He moves to your other ear, baritone breath hot on your neck, making you involuntarily shiver, “I think we could have a bit of fun together.” Your heart rate starts to accelerate as the bonds around your wrists loosen and fall to the ground, he moves on, freeing your ankles as well. You bolt out of the chair, turning to face him with your fists up; he’d locked the door when he came in, there was nowhere for you to go. He was playing with you. 

“Stay the fuck away from me.” You spit, doing your best to keep the waiver of fear out of your voice. He laughs at you, a horrible, maniacal sound; it echoes through the concrete room, making you want to cover your ears and scream to drown it out. You barely have time to react before he’s on you, impossibly fast; you take the first punch in the gut, it sends the wind out of your lungs and nearly makes you double over in pain. It feels like being hit by a bus, there was no way one man could be that strong. 

You surprise him by dodging the second punch, something neither of you thought you were capable of in your current state. He smirks, not letting up on you. His elbow connects with your jaw, sending you flying to the side. You can barely see him when he attacks, unable to avoid his leg as it connects with your stomach. You grit your teeth, doing your best to ignore the fresh pain in your jaw; you were nearly blinded by unwanted tears and blood, but somehow managed to stay on your feet. He wasn’t attacking you with his full strength, he didn’t need to; he didn’t want to kill you, just beat you into submission. 

You throw a blind punch, desperate to try and hit him back; but he catches your fist, twisting it to the side, forcing you down onto one knee and making you cry out in pain. 

“A valiant effort, dear, but really you had no chance.” Before you can spit back a reply his foot collides with your chest, sending you onto your back. You try to get up, propping yourself up on your arms but he places his boot on your lower abdomen, applying pressure to keep you down. 

“Just look at you. Would you even mind if I killed you?” He puts more pressure on his boot, leaning over you condescendingly, elbows resting on his knee. You wince, you knew how you must look; blood had been seeping from your lip and nose for days, your face was swollen and bruised beyond recognition and he had just beaten the shit out of you. You’d certainly seen better days. 

You clench your jaw, unable to ignore the pain that was ringing throughout your whole body any longer. Your breathing was ragged, unable to inhale fully with his boot on your chest, never able to recover from the beating you’d received, “Kill me?” You laugh, voice trailing off,  “That’d be far too kind for you Wesker.” You hiss, spitting a mouthful of blood and saliva onto his shoe. 

The corner of his mouth twists up into a crooked half smile, he leans down even closer to you, grabbing your shirt by the collar, “You’re right.” He stands suddenly, removing his leg from you, using your shirt he pulls you to your knees, the force making your head nearly crash into his hips. 

He releases your shirt, opting to squeeze your cheeks together instead, “If you bite me I’ll send you back to Chris, Jill and Barry in a dozen little boxes, you understand?” You don’t answer, trying to wrench your head away from him, looking anywhere but at him. He lets go of you for a moment, long enough for the back of his hand to connect with your skin as he slaps you hard enough to make you see stars. He grips your head again, forcing you to look up at him. 

“Understand?” You shoot daggers at him, but you nod, breathing hard, nostrils flaring, threat of another backhand enough to keep you in line. 

“Good.” He sneers at you, hands moving his belt, deft fingers undoing the buckle with expert precision, the same precision he did everything else with. You want to scream, to cry, to curse, but you’re silent, watching him with horror and morbid fascination. You couldn’t help but be curious, you’d been close with Wesker before the Arklay incident, there was no denying the connection you two had shared. Perhaps that’s what made his betrayal and death even harder for you; you’d never seen it coming.

The belt comes free of his pants, and he holds the plain black leather in his hands for a moment before looping it around your neck, sliding the buckle down until it forms a tight collar around your throat. You look up at him, watery eyes pleading with him to stop; you catch a glimpse of white as the corner of his mouth turns up into a cruel smile. He strokes the side of your face in a sadistic mockery of intimacy, you know the gesture means nothing, it’s just another way to play with you.

He jerks on the long end of the belt, which is wrapped around his hand, forcing your face onto his hips, where you can feel his rapidly growing hardness, “If you’re good, you might enjoy this, pet.” 

You blink away tears as he unbuttons and unzips pants, which had grown uncomfortably tight. His boxer briefs are a dark color, and you desperately try to look away; the scent is overwhelming, musky and masculine, and you’re being held too close for comfort. 

Using the belt as leverage, he rubs your face on his groin, smearing your blood across his briefs. You couldn’t ignore him as much as you wanted to try, it was like he was marking you; all you could smell was his cock and the acrid scent of your own blood. Alarm begins to build inside you, you could feel how large he was; you start to struggle, pulling against the belt, trying to get away. He pulls on the end, pulling the loop around your neck tighter, choking you. 

Your hands fly up to your throat, clawing at the belt, desperate to get it off. The sharp crack of another backhand blinds you momentarily, stilling you for the moment. A soft whimper escapes you, you curse yourself for not being able to hold it in. 

The low rumble of his laughter assaults your ears as he finally frees himself from the fabric; his erection springing free of the material, coming to rest almost painfully on your swollen face. It spanned the entire length of your face, heavy balls hitting your chin; you did your best not to look at it, completely overwhelmed by the smell. 

He grabbed his cock by the base, rubbing himself on your face. It was beyond humiliating, you want to put up a fight, to get the hell away from him; but you didn’t think you can take many more backhands. 

He presses the swollen tip of his erection to your lips, silently demanding entry; he doesn’t push, instead waiting for you to open and accept him. You’d rather he forced you, the thought of willingly being vulnerable for him made your stomach turn. You feel his grip tighten on the belt as he rubs his tip along your lips, the blood and saliva already there providing enough lube for him to slide easily across your mouth. 

You open your mouth hesitantly and he pushes into you almost violently, filling your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. He groans, pulling himself out slightly before pushing all the way back in. He chuckles, his low laugh reverberating through your chest.

“Did you do this for all the STARS boys? You’re a real pro.” He thrusts into you shallowly, trying to get as deep into your throat as possible; trying to see if he could make you gag. 

“How many of them did you blow? Brad? Chris? Joe? Forest?” He pauses, raising an eyebrow at you quizzically, “Barry?”

You try to protest but can’t get any words out from around his cock, unable to stop the tears that prick the corners of your eyes. He continues his assault on your mouth, pumping his hips into your unwilling throat. Your lungs were starting to burn from the lack of air, the belt tightening around your neck with every other thrust; you could barely contain your sobs, eyes shutting out of reflex. 

“And here I thought you were respectable, little did I know you were the STARS slut all along.” He pulls out suddenly, leaving you gasping for air, your eyes flying open as you lean forward to catch your breath. He grabs you by the chin, pulling your head up to look at him, his cock bobbing dangerously in front of you, still connected to your mouth by a perverse strand of spit. 

“Oh how the mighty have fallen.” His laugh is infuriating, you turn your gaze away, not wanting to look at him. He tuts at you, jerking your face back towards him, “

"You're going to look at me while we do this.” 

Your voice catches in the back of your throat as you’re unable to choke back the sob that escapes you, “Wesker please...” 

“Oh no, we’re just getting started.” He grabs his cock by the base, pressing it back to your lips, “I want to see your tongue… Give me the STARS treatment.”

You look up at him, trying to keep the tears out of your eyes as you stick your tongue out for him, complying. 

He places his cock on your tongue, patting it on the soft muscle, “Now that’s a pretty sight.” He leaves his hard-on there, enjoying the view. It takes you a moment to realize he wants you to take care of him, a realization that fills you with dread. 

You take the head in your mouth, sucking on it hesitantly. You can feel Wesker’s low chuckle vibrate through you as his free hand finds itself in your hair, grabbing a fistfull and squeezing slightly, “Come on now, you can do better than that.” 

Your brow furrows as you try to concentrate, afraid of what might happen to you if you don’t perform well enough. You duck under the length of him, licking him with a broad tongue from bottom to tip before taking him back in your mouth, bobbing on his cock as you fuck your own face shallowly, afraid of what will happen to you if you don’t perform well. 

A low groan escapes him and his grip tightens on your hair as he takes over, vigorously thrusting into your mouth. His pace becomes almost inhumanly quick, and you do your best to stay calm; your lungs crying out from lack of oxygen and your bruised jaw aching from over extension. Your eyes flick up at him, half lidded, with tears pooling at the corners, each thrust sending them over the edge down your blood-stained cheeks. 

He meets your gaze, his eyes boring into yours, drilling a hole into your skull as he smirks; enjoying the blood-covered sight as he fucks your pliant mouth. 

"You really are pathetic you know, if only you could see yourself right now." His pace doesn't slow as he taunts you, and you groan in response, unable to throw back a retort from around his cock. 

His grip on the belt and your hair grows tighter as he nears his orgasm; the belt tightening around your neck enough to make your vision start to go dark as the lack of air from the brutal oral started to take its toll on you. He cums with a growl and a deep thrust, forcing himself all the way down your throat; so far you swear he's choking his own cock with the belt. His thick seed coats the back of your esophagus, not giving you the option of spitting the salty-sweet liquid out. He holds himself there for a moment, thrusting shallowly, enjoying the view of your bloody, bruised and cock-drunk face before finally pulling out. 

The first breath of air is almost painful, your lungs so deprived of oxygen that finally receiving it is too much, making you cough and sputter; if it weren't for his grip on your hair you'd have doubled over. He releases you, tucking his still hard cock back into his pants and unwinding the belt from your neck. 

You sit in silence, humiliated. You look at the belt as if it was a venomous snake as he puts it back on, glaring at it before turning your gaze to the floor, unwilling to look at him. 

"Now, wasn't that fun, dear?" He laughs at you, turning away to leave, "If you keep up the good work you might end up becoming my favorite prisoner!" The door shuts behind him and his footsteps fade away, leaving you with your burning shame, fearfully counting the minutes until he returned. 



Chapter 2

Notes:

This chapter is slightly less gender neutral! Reader is still GN but has a vulva/is afab. If there's enough of a demand for it, I will go back through and write it with weiner as a chapter 3!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It had been weeks since you were captured. Wesker had been back several times to take advantage of your “services”, as he called them, and for the beatings of course. He relished in causing you pain and loved to find new ways to make you squirm underneath him. 


Things would be easier for you if you just complied, but you were too stubborn, too proud to give into his will and submit. Your defiant attitude had earned you an uncountable amount of beatings, some of the injuries you'd sustained early on had healed, but the fresh ones outnumbered the old ones by far. 


At some point you’d been moved to a nicer cell, it was still a shit hole, with agonizingly bright fluorescent lighting and a dripping ceiling, but at least you had somewhere to clean up, use the bathroom and sleep. It was a small comfort, it's all you can do to just lay in the bed, trying to sleep off the pain, rising to occasionally to wash off the dirt and caked on blood. 


Today was different, you'd felt well enough to get up and walk around your cell. There wasn't much to it, a small bed, a corner with a toilet and old shower head, and a metal table across from the bed. Sometimes someone would come through with food, which was repulsive, and a fresh change of clothes, which were thin hospital gowns. 


You'd already rinsed yourself off for the day, there wasn't any soap and the water was freezing cold, but at least you were cleaner than before. You shuddered, your cell was damp and drafty, the hospital gown not providing much warmth. You tied it the best you could, but you still felt like your ass was hanging out the back.

 
It's a fact you're painfully aware of as you hear Wesker's confident stride come down the hallway. You groan internally, leaning your head back on the wall for a second before sliding off the metal table you'd been sitting on. The sound of keys and the scraping of the door opening is all too familiar as you put your fists up, ready to fight. 


He tuts at you, hooking the keys back around his belt loop, "Must you always fight? I'm beginning to think you like being hurt." He says with a laugh, his deep voice echoing off the walls of your small cell. 


"Just you wait," You exhale, the words hard to get out, due to what you were sure was a broken rib, "One of these days I'll kick your ass, then we'll see who's laughing." It was an empty threat, you knew you had no chance of beating him. Back in STARS the two of you had sparred often during down time, you'd hardly ever won then, and you definitely couldn't win now; not hurt the way you were, versus the insane speed and strength he had now.

 
He looks at you cruelly from behind his sunglasses, fixing you with a wicked smile, "Big words, but can you back them up?" He stands on the other side of the bed, which was between you; the metal table behind you, but he doesn't move closer. 


You regard him carefully, confused, feeling your head unintentionally cock to the side. Usually, he cut to the chase, thrashing you into a pulp before doing what he pleased with you. 


"Well? Since you want to fight so bad… Come and get me." He gestures with his hands to "come on," which frankly pisses you off, sick of playing his little games, of being his punching bag. 


You move slowly, carefully, with your hands raised, putting less space between you as you cross the room to his side. He is unmoving, but you can feel his eyes tracking you across the room. 


"How curious, I seem to recall you were a more… Brash fighter." He taunts, milling over his words to select the right ones, the ones that would annoy you the most. He was right of course, normally you liked to hit fast and hit hard, but you can't do that now, you had to be careful how you approached him. 


"I was always smarter than you gave me credit for." You snap back, lunging at him with a fist. 
He parries, letting you swing past him, missing completely. You turn to face him again, pivoting on your front leg to keep your backside away from him.

 
"My dear, I never underestimated you." He says with a laugh, there's a hint of genuineness to his voice, deep behind the salacious timbre. 


You lunge at him a second time, but he side steps you again, giving you a light shove on the back before you can turn, which makes you stumble. You recover quickly, facing him once more, "Stop playing with me, asshole." You spit angrily. 


"But it's so fun." He fires back, laughing at you, taunting you more.

 
You bite back your rage. You face him once more, he wouldn't side step you this time, you were sure of it; you'd sparred with him enough in STARS to know his favorite tricks. You throw yourself at him again, but this time you were ready, slamming your other fist into his side. It feels like hitting a brick wall, making you wince.


"Quick study, but not quick enough." You realize too late that it was a setup, as he grabs the arm you'd hit him with and throws you across the room. You hit the wall hard, dazed, you try to blink away the fuzziness that clouds your eyes. It feels like he threw you with enough force to break the bricks, and it's all you can do to stay on your feet.


Your vision clears after a moment, but he's advancing on you. You're barely able to turn onto your stomach to avoid another punch. 


"Mistake." He chastises, grabbing your arm and twisting it behind your back, using his other hand to slam the side of your face into the wall. 


You cry out in pain, it was lucky you didn't lose a tooth, but the force from his palm smashed your teeth against the tender skin inside your mouth, making you bleed. The split on your lip that had begun to heal ripped back open from the force, and blood dripped onto the wall and floor from your mouth. 


He had you pinned, you writhed beneath him, desperate to break free, but he held you firm, squeezing your wrist tighter and twisting your arm up further. You can't hold back another gasp as he curves your arm up your back. 


He pressed himself against you, using his weight to pin you further, making you hiss in annoyance, "You, my dear, are a glutton for pain." His breath is on your neck, making the hairs there stand on end.


You make a desperate move, throwing your full force back against him, trying to get him off you, "Ah-ah." He chastises, pressing his knee between your thighs, which are bare; your hospital gown having ridden up. Thankfully you'd been given a plain pair of underwear, so you weren't completely bare against him. 


You still beneath him as he applies pressure to your face, squeezing you against the brick, "Are you finished?" He jeers, delighting in taunting you further. 
You grit your teeth, "No." As you speak you use your free arm, which you had safely pressed against your stomach, to elbow him in the gut. You put as much force behind it as you can, which is admittedly not that much. 


It's enough though, the shock from the blow makes him release your head, which you smash backwards into his, making him let go of you as he reels backwards. You dash away, adrenaline propelling you forward. 


You feel a pang of satisfaction as you see him lean his head back, dabbing his finger under his nose, which was bleeding. He cracks his neck, wiping the blood away with his sleeve, taking a step towards you menacingly, "You shouldn't have done that," He spits blood onto the floor, "Playtime is over." 


He charges at you, and though you try to be ready for his attack, he's just too fast. You can't see him move, and the kick hits you in the side, knocking the breath out of you. You stumble away, trying to see where he was coming from, but you can only get glimpses of him as he attacks you. 


Spots cloud your vision after a palm strike to the side of your head, making you grip your temples, trying to stay focused. You try to run, stumbling parallel to the bed, as fear overtakes you and flight wins over fight. 
"Oh no you don't!" You feel his arms wrap around your waist as he lifts you off the ground, tossing you onto the table as if you weighed nothing. 


You land on your back, and had there been any air left in your lungs it would have been forced out by the blow. You gasp for air, fingers gripping the cold edges of the metal beneath you. Your vision swims, the fluorescent light above you making you nauseous; you recognized the signs of a concussion all too well. 


You scramble to sit up as quickly as you can, trying to slide off the table, but Wesker is there first, forcing your legs apart to stand in between them. He raises his hand for a back hand and you instinctively flinch, going still beneath him. 


He chuckles, lowering his hand, "Now that's a good pet." You'd submitted, for now, not willing to take any more physical abuse. 


Hot tears flood your eyes and you aren't able to hold them back as they spill over onto your cheeks, becoming tinged pink from the blood. 


"Why are you doing this?" You cry, "We were friends!" You flail against him, pounding on his chest with your hands, he grabs one of your wrists but you won't be still, you weren't even trying to get away, just overwhelmed by the physical and emotional pain. It wasn't that long ago that Wesker had been your captain, that you'd mourned him at his funeral despite his betrayal. 


Unable to stop you from thrashing, his hand darts out to grab you by the neck. He squeezes you tight, until you're gasping for air, clawing at his hand. 


"Is that what we were? Friends?" He responds, spitting his words out, "Did you know my middle name? Where I was from? My favorite color?" 


You whimper, spots dancing in your vision from lack of air, "Going to behave?" He asks, not waiting for you to answer before releasing you. You cough and sputter, heaving as you catch your breath.


"I… always thought… it was blue." You say in between breaths, "Like your eyes… like the shirts you always wore…" 


He regards you carefully, as if surprised by your words. You cough some more, wiping away blood stained tears from your cheeks.


He slowly raises his hand, removing his sunglasses, revealing his eyes. You gasp, gone were the steely baby blues, replaced by a harsh crimson red, slit in the middle by a cat-eye pupils, "And what of them now? Still think it's blue?"


A fresh wave of tears runs down your face, your voice a strained whisper, "What did they do to you Wesker…?" 


His maniacal laugh drowns out your thoughts, "They made me into a god!" He roars, pleased with your reaction, enjoying the taste of your fear.


You look away from him, unable and unwilling to meet his ruby red stare. He grabs you by the jaw, yanking your head to look at him, "Now, what of your punishment? For your misbehavior…?" He thinks for a moment, his other hand drumming on your bare thigh. 


He is silent for a while, his gloved hand wandering up your tender skin. You're acutely aware of his closeness, you can feel the heat radiating off of him as he stands between your legs. 


He pats your thigh triumphantly, releasing your jaw to snap his other fingers, "Ah yes, I know." 


His hands go to his belt, removing the leather quickly with a snap, "Hands." He demands, smirking.


You look at him blankly, pulling your hands away from him. The sharp crack of the backhand makes a spurt of blood fly off your lips, and you thrust your hands forward towards him, blinking away tears. 


He wraps the belt around your hands, pulling it tight around your wrists, binding them together, "Such methods wouldn't be necessary if you just behaved." 
He tucks the end of the belt under his arm, holding it tight to his body to keep your hands suspended between the two of you. With two fingers he reaches between your legs, looping them under the fabric of your underwear near the crotch; with a swift motion he pulls back, ripping the material to pieces, leaving you exposed to him. 


You try to shut your legs, tucking your knees together, "Ah-ah," He tuts again, forcing your legs apart, "Let's have some fun, shall we?" 


The tears fall faster down your face as you realize what he wanted, "Albert please, don't do this…" You plead, trying to appeal to him.


Another backhand collides with your cheek, "That's Captain or Wesker to you, rookie." The word "rookie" makes your chest heave, sobbing; it had been what he called you during your time in STARS, because you were the newest member to Alpha team at the time. You look up at him with round eyes, begging him silently to stop. 


He stares down at you with cruel red eyes, smirking with a flash of his white teeth, "What? Afraid I won't take care of you?" He doesn't let you respond, thrusting two fingers forward into your mouth. 
You taste the leather on your tongue, and it takes all your will not to struggle, afraid of the pain he'd cause you if you did.


"Suck." He commands, his voice a growl. You comply with his demands, wrapping your lips around his two fingers, moving your tongue across and between them. You look away from him, cheeks hot with blush.


His free hand comes to lift your head, pressing fingers to your neck, "You know better than that." He gently tilts your head, almost tenderly, "I want you to look at me." He says, voice low. 


Your eyes flutter towards him, half lidded as you try to focus on the leather of his glove. Without warning he pulls away, his fingers coming from your mouth with a wet sound, covered in saliva and blood. 


He leans in close to you, his mouth by your neck as he lowers his hand to your groin, letting his wet fingers glide across your slit. You flinch, whimpering, your bound hands resting on his chest. 


He holds you still, pushing into you with his two fingers. It's enough to make you cry out, it had been a while since you'd last been sexually active, and the motion stretches you almost painfully. 


The smug look on his face sends more tears flowing down your face, dripping onto his shoulder. He pulls his fingers out slowly before slipping them back in, getting accustomed to your tightness.


"You're nice and tight, pet. I bet you didn't know how badly you needed this." He growls into your neck.

 
"Wesker please." You beg, shuddering against him. 


He chuckles, teeth nipping at your neck, "Please what? Stop?" He pushes his fingers as deep as he can, before beginning to thrust them into you.

 
"Don't do this!" Your voice is barely a whisper, head rolling back slightly. 


"I don't hear you saying no." His pace quickens as his free hand finds your clit, putting pressure on it before beginning to rub small circles around the sensitive skin. Your hips buck at his touch, but he holds you in place. 


You whine, trying to squirm away but he holds you down, forcing his fingers into you rhythmically. He slips a third finger in, which is almost too much for you, making you gasp. He applies more pressure with his thumb, rubbing tighter circles across your clit. He leans into your neck, his breath hot across your collar. His teeth come as a shock as he bites you a little too hard, and you can't hold back the noise that escapes you. He sucks on the tender flesh, leaving marks all across the skin, marking you as his. 


His assault on your cunt begins to take its toll on you, and you feel your orgasm building, despite your internal protests. He hooked his fingers at just the right angle and you can't help it, "Cum for me, little bird, cum on my fingers." 


You know his words are a mockery of intimacy, that he's doing this to torment you; but for a brief moment, you catch glimpses of the old Wesker. It's too much for you. 


"C-captian!" Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, feeling yourself clench around him as you shudder. He doesn't stop his movements, forcing you to ride out the pleasure and pain. 


Even after the moment passes, he continues his precise attack on you, making you buck and struggle beneath him. His thumb comes off your clit for a moment, just to push your back onto the table, and to readjust the belt holding your hands. 


You're flat on the table now, squirming as he begins to force a second orgasm out of you. Instinctively and unintentionally you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him close to you as the second orgasm hits you, unable to stop the moan that escapes you. 
Finally he slows to a stop, pulling his digits out of you, only to shove them into your mouth, making you taste yourself on his fingers. You whimper in protest, unhooking your legs from around him, trying to push him away with your knees. 


"Look at how you've come apart for me…" Comes his vicious laugh as he pulls his fingers away, spit trailing from your mouth onto your chin, "I told you I'd take care of you." 


You're dazed beneath him, unable to fight back any more, "C-Chris won't let you get away with this…" You try to protest. 


"You don't belong to Chris anymore, you belong to me." He hisses, aggravated by your choice of words, "You're my little toy now…" He pulls you across the table, until your hips crash into his, before unbuttoning his pants to free his cock, "And you know how much I enjoy breaking my toys." 


You want to fight back, to push him away but you're frozen still. He'd only ever used your mouth before, but now he was lining himself up at your entrance, sliding himself across your wetness triumphantly; like you were a prize he was finally getting to claim. 


He spares you no time to mentally prepare, pushing himself all the way inside you with a snap of his hips, bottoming out against your cervix. He groans, enjoying the way you cry out, feeling your tightness for the first time. 


He pulls out and thrusts into you painfully, not giving you time to adjust to his size, knowing how overstimulated you were. The sounds that unwillingly leave your mouth are unholy as he sets a quick pace, content to watch you squirm under him. 


He pulls the belt tight, wrapping the leather around his hand to help pull you onto him, using the belt for leverage to fuck you. Unbeknownst to you, he could do this for hours. His superhuman abilities made his endurance much higher than normal; something you'd soon come to find out. 


You're quite the sight beneath him, writhing against him, not quite trying to pull away, but barely able to keep yourself from trying. He could watch you like this forever, content to slam into you as long as he liked, just to hear the noises you'd make, to see the way your face contorted in pain and pleasure. He would savor this experience, savor you. 


He pounds you for what feels like hours, changing his pace from time to time, sometimes faster, sometimes slower. He'd pinch at your nipples with his free hand, having lifted your gown to expose your chest early on; or bring his thumb back to your clit, forcing you to cum again around him. It was maddening. 


You're barely able to keep your head up, eyes half lidded and dazed, barely aware of what was happening around you, only able to focus on him and his cock; just the way he wanted you. 


He picks his pace up once more, thumbing fast circles into your clit, "Cum again for me, pet, cum for your captain." 


You struggle against him, well beyond overstimulation, the line between pain and pleasure long since blurred, "I can't c-captain, I c-an't…" You whine, back arching. 


"You will." He says, it's a command, one he forces your body to obey as his thrusting quickens further. 
Panic builds in your chest as you realize what he's doing, "Not inside Wesker, p-please not inside!" You beg, unable to stop another orgasm from crashing over you, making you shudder and tighten around him involuntarily. 


"I'll do as I please with you." He growls back, his pace unbearably fast as he slams into you with a final thrust and groan, his cum spilling deep into you. He holds you there for a moment, pulling out slightly only to push back in agonizingly slow. 


His cock slides out with a wet pop when he's finally satisfied, having thoroughly bred you. With a wicked smile he grabs you by the hair, turning your head towards his hips. His cock bobs above your lips, "Now be a dear and clean me off." You don't resist, blood rushing to your skull as your head hangs off the table, you just open your mouth and let him push into you. 


He does so slowly, letting his cock lazily slide across your tongue. He pushes himself to the base, making you go cross-eyed from lack of air; he pinches your nose closed and holds himself there for a little longer than he should. 


It takes a few more minutes of slow thrusting, but eventually he's content with the cleaning; pulling his cock away and tucking it into his pants. He gently unlaces the belt from your hands, which has left angry red marks on your wrists, before buckling it back around his waist. 


Knowing you probably won't be able to move after his rough treatment of you, he scoops you up in his arms, moving you to the bed in an unexpected act of kindness. He has half a mind to fuck you again, to take another few hours to really push you past your limits, to leave a few more loads inside you, to really break you; but he was a patient man, and there was plenty of time to play later. 


He turns to leave, when your hand shoots out from the bed grabbing his wrist, as you look up at him with swollen tearful eyes. Your voice is hoarse and quiet, almost inaudibly so, "You never told me why…" 


You don't know it but he's pleased with you, a low laugh rumbling at the back of his throat. He crouches next to you, stroking the side of your face, tucking a stray piece of hair away behind your ear, feigning intimacy. He smiles before he speaks, leaning down low so you feel his words on your ear, "Because the best way to break you… is to give you everything you want." 
And without another word, he is gone.

Notes:

One thing about me.... imma write a fic, abandon it for 2 years, then come back and write another chapter 😎

I hope this new addition holds up to the original piece, which I reread recently and quite enjoyed. Enjoy everyone!

The best place to interact with me is my Twitter! I plan on opening curious cat asks, taking commissions and potentially doing requests! I also post art and talk about other fandoms..u want to follow so BAD

https://twitter.com/mothearoni?t=ag7vNcaSNcLcDkaAbBrhzA&s=09

Chapter 3

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It had been days since his last visit, you’d been left alone with your agonizing thoughts; something he had done purposefully, wanting you to think about all the ways he’d made you feel, the pleasure and the pain done at his hand. 

You’d been following a routine, getting up whenever you could, bathing, trying to make yourself somewhat presentable. You don’t know why you bothered, maybe if you were filthy he wouldn’t touch you, wouldn’t want anything to do with you; but the thought scares you. What would happen to you if he didn’t want to “play” anymore? 

You sat on the edge of your uncomfortable bed, which is quite possibly the thinest mattress ever created. You hang your head in your hands, ashamed; ashamed that you’d cum for him, not just once but multiple times. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your fault, that he’d known all the right ways to touch you, to force the orgasms out of you, but that didn’t stop the shame from burning hot across your cheeks. 

The sound of Wesker’s footsteps is painfully familiar, but you don’t rise right away. The keys rattle and the door opens, but you wait for a moment before standing and putting your fists up, your heart not quite in it. 

It’s something he picks up on right away, “Spirit broken already, dear heart?” 

He was right. You were tired. Tired of fighting, tired of being hurt, tired of being subjected to his whims, but you couldn’t let him know that. 

Luckily he always knew what to say to piss you off, “You wish, jackass.” You spit, fire rising in your chest. 

He smirks, secretly pleased with your response. He couldn’t decide which he wanted more: to have you spiritedly fighting him, will strong and unbroken, trying your best to beat him; or to have you broken at his feet, willingly submitting to him, begging him not to hurt you anymore. 

You back away from the mattress, trying to put some space in between you. He doesn’t waste any time today, darting around the bed, his foot colliding with your side. You’re almost ready for him, but he was just too damn fast, and the blow sends you flying sideways. You stumble, trying to stay standing but falling on your ass. 

You slam your fist onto the ground, angry, already beaten with one stupid kick. He stalks his way over to you, towering above you, “Pathetic, really.” He says, nudging your leg with his boot, “You used to be one of the best you know, now look at you.” 

He offers his hand out to you, almost daring you to accept it, to let him help you up. You regard his hand with venom in your eyes, you’d rather die than willingly accept his help. You slap it away, “Chris is going to come for me you know, then you’ll be sorry.” 

Something changes in his eyes, you barely see it behind the sunglasses, but it’s there. His hand flashes forward, grabbing you by the neck, lifting you into the air. You make a strangled noise, your own hand beating down on his arm, trying to get him to drop you. He slams you back against the wall, making you see stars, before speaking, his voice dangerous, “If you ever mention him again, I’ll make sure you wish you hadn’t.” 

You look at him desperately, your free hand pawing at your throat. He drops you unceremoniously, letting you fall to your knees hard, gasping for air, “We both know it was never him you wanted.” 

Confusion flashes across your face as you recover, panting. It takes you a moment, but when you realize what he was talking about, you laugh, lungs still burning for air, “You-you actually think there was something between me, and C-Chris ?” Your shoulders shake, lungs no longer aching. It was funny to you, was Wesker, your proud former captain, actually jealous

“You said a while ago, that I blew all the STARS guys, do you actually believe that?” You ask, wiping away a laughter induced tear from your eye. You fix your gaze on him now, looking up at him with fierce eyes, “Don’t tell me the proud captain Wesker was jealous .” 

You don’t see his hand move, but you feel the aftermath of the backhand, your head slammed to the side by the force, “Watch your tone with me, pet .” 

You shakily stand, reinvigorated by the ridiculousness of the situation. You cock your head to the side, fists raised, “I can’t believe you went to all this trouble, because you thought I was fucking Chris .” You throw a punch, which he side steps. 

You don’t stop, stalking towards him as you throw another, “You’re right though, I never wanted him… though I could have had him if I pleased.” Your next punch barely misses, but he grabs you by the arm, hurling you against the wall. With a swift motion he grabs you by the hospital gown, smashing you back against it. You feel blood dribble from your nose but you can’t help but keep laughing; the whole situation was absurd to you. 

“You need to learn when to shut your mouth. ” He hisses, but doesn’t deny the things you said; he pulls you from the wall slightly before slamming you back against it, trying to get you to stop your awful laughter. 

Finally, after weeks of torment, you felt like you had the upper hand, you’d finally gotten under his skin in a meaningful way. You two had been close in STARS, and though you’d always felt like there could have been more between you, you’d always dismissed the thought as wishful thinking. Turns out it wasn’t unwarented at all. You’d turned down every man in STARS, hoping that one day he’d take his chance and claim you, but he never did. 

You drop your voice low, leaning in slightly to whisper in his ear, “You could have had me whenever you wanted you know… I turned the rest of them away, I always held out for you.” 

It’s barely noticeable, but he’s shaking with rage. He throws you to the floor, practically stomping away, leaving without a word; the echo of your laughter following him down the hall.

Notes:

this is probably not the chapter everyone wanted or expected, but it sets up the next one nicely me thinks! feedback always appreciated!!

If you havent already, check out my twitter! Its the best place to get fic updates, plus I have Curious Cat open for requests/questions!

https://twitter.com/mothearoni?t=GJwPAfm8VUy529ucDbnM_g&s=09

Chapter 4

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The next time he visits, you’re ready for him. It doesn’t take him long to reappear, showing up the next day; you knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away for long, needing to reestablish dominance over you. You sit on the table, legs swinging above the ground as he locks the door behind him. You don’t put your fists up, you don’t need to fight anymore.

The two of you regard each other carefully, silently locked in a battle of wills. You cock your head to the side, smiling, “Back so soon?” You coo, taunting him. 

His fist clenches at his side, relaxing almost immediately as he regains his composure, “I hope you don’t think you’ve won anything.” His words are a hiss, barely containing his rage. He approaches you slowly, almost stalking you; you don’t react, leaning back instead, calm, “I still hold all the cards.” Soon he stands in front of you, and you slide your leg to the side so he can stand in between them, hooking your heels around the back of his calves. 

His gloved hand reaches up to meet your cheek, grabbing your jaw and turning it over in his palm. He examined your neck like he wasn’t sure what to do with you; kill you for your insolence or reward you for your boldness. 

You had begun to like the feeling of leather on skin, and the action is almost tender, and part of you wishes that it was genuine, “A willing act of submission? I must have knocked a few of your screws loose…” His voice trails off as he palms your cheek. 

You look up at him with big doe eyes, “I don’t need to fight. You said if I behaved, you wouldn’t hit me anymore.” Your words are almost like a challenge, you were fighting for dominance in a new way. 

His thumb strokes the bruised skin on your face, “Did I now…?” He pauses, “And here I thought you liked being hurt.” His tone is teasing, like he’s deciding whether or not he wanted to keep his word. 

You slap his hand away, sick of the games; he frowns, his hand coming up to grab you by the throat, squeezing lightly as a threat, “I thought you were going to behave?” He murmurs, raising an eyebrow. 

You try to wrench your neck away from him, but he holds you firm, “Just because I’m “behaving” doesn’t mean you get off easy.” 

He laughs, releasing your neck, “Your spirit is still strong, even after all you’ve been through.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he almost admired your strength, that he was proud of you. 

“Cut the shit Wesker.” You slide back on the table, unhooking your ankles from around him to lean against the wall. Your gaze is fierce as you look up at him, trying hard to keep your voice from breaking, “I-I want to know why. Why you did… this to me,” You grit your teeth, swallowing hard, “Instead of having me back then.” 

You can see his eyes behind his sunglasses, his ruby stare seems to pierce your soul even through the lenses. When he speaks his voice is soft, the mocking tone gone, “Would that have made it easier? Would you have felt less betrayed had we been in love?” He spits the last word, his face bitter, as if imagining what could have been. 

He shakes his head, “No, I couldn’t have you then, because of what would come to pass.” 

Slow tears begin to fall down your cheeks, “S-so this was better? What you did to me?” You blink the moisture away, “Hurting me?” 

His leather clad hand comes to caress your cheek, making you flinch slightly as he strokes your face. His face is stoney, hiding a pained expression, “It never would have worked. Would you be ‘wined and dined’ by me now? Could you really have cared for the monster I’ve become? The man that betrayed you?” 

He shakes his head, pulling you closer by your chin, “No…” He leans down to whisper against your ear, “It was easier to hurt you, than it would be to love you.” 

Your hand comes up to meet his, tears dripping onto his arm. Your eyes meet his, you reach out with your free hand to pull off his sunglasses, pleading to him with your eyes, your voice barely a whisper, “We could have tried .” 

Hurt lingers behind his eyes, as if he was fighting with himself. His fingers lace together with yours as he leans into you, your mouths meeting gently as he pulls you into a kiss. It is real intimacy this time, tender and sweet, almost fearful as if he was afraid to break you, afraid you’d pull away. You lean into him, your hand coming to rest on his chest, your mouth parting to meet his. It is a lifetime, it never seems to end, the kiss that shouldn’t be, years of regret and longing behind it. It’s almost painful; what could have been, it lingers between you, dancing on your lips. 

Before you know it, he is gone, nothing but his lingering smell left behind, leaving you alone with your tears.

Notes:

Hello everyone! Happy to share this final chapter of Shameless with you. I really struggled to find a way to end this series, as it really took on a life of its own. I tried to write it several times, and I think I'm happy with how its ended, with the pain of what could have been, but never could be. I hope everyone likes it, and forgive me for not adding more smut.

That being said, as much as I love this fic, and as proud of it as I am (i do feel like it's some of my best work) I will be orphaning this work in the new year. Those of you who follow me on twitter may know that I received some hate for this fic for being "problematic" as cnc/non-con is a taboo kink. It's personally a trauma kink for me, as it might be for some of you, and when I wrote it, it helped me with my own trauma, and I had hoped to share it with those who felt the same way. Unfortunately, for my own safety and peace of mind, I have to abandon this fic, and distance my writing from this kind of kink. I hope you all understand. If you'd like to follow me and my work still, you can find me on twitter, the link is in my other fics. Thank your for your understanding, and for all the love and support you have shown me, I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I did.

Notes:

THIS IS A MESS SORRY

my big fic is so lovey... I wanted some mean brutal wesker.... why is blood so sexy....