Wesker's Finest Creation (Albert Wesker X Reader)

*His Pet, His Prey

The feeling of falling jolts me awake. I'm outside, suspended between a set of lampposts with the street directly beneath me. My limbs are tightly bound and spread far enough to be more than mildly painful when I make the slightest movement.

"Good, you're up," Wesker comments, twirling his knife from where he leans against an abandoned, rusty taxi. He's dressed as he was when I'd first seen him, in his long black trenchcoat and sunglasses. Uroboros threads from his back, across to either side of the street and up the lampposts, holding me aloft between them.

"I'm sorry I-"

His upper lip twitches. He stops twirling the blade, the tip pressing against his leather-gloved thumb, then flings the knife. It flies inches from my head and smashes through the lamplight, sending glass shards and sparks raining over me. I clamp my mouth shut and duck my head.

"Apologies are merely words. I need far more from you than that."

His voice is more foreboding than I've ever heard, running my blood cold.

"You've disappointed me, pet. You had been doing so well."

He pushes off the car and steps forward, Uroboros tentacles lifting him from the ground until he is face-to-face with me.

"It seems you lack self-control."

Inches away, his red eyes survey me behind tinted sunglasses.

"The best way to learn self-control is to lose it completely. You'll either come back stronger," he places a gloved hand on my cheek, his thumb caressing me, "or your mind will shatter."

A wave of dread passes over me. He's more intense than I'd ever seen him, even more so than when he'd first slammed me against the countertop and had his way with me.

"I would ask if you're prepared, darling, but I believe we are past the illusion of my offering you a choice."

The way he's speaking has me trembling, and knowing next to nothing about the man before me wavers my confidence that I am not in mortal peril.

"Albert, you wouldn't really break me, would you?" I ask nervously.

Wesker's eyes flash. "If you can't survive this, you aren't worthy of ushering in the new era."

I swallow the lump in my throat as a malicious grin spreads across his handsome features. Yet, self-preservation is not the only thing coursing adrenaline through me; the sheer dominance emanating from his poise and tone of voice has me captivated, not unlike a deer in the face of imminent death.

"My dear," he whispers, leaning forward, "I'm going to ravage you until there is nothing left of your defiance to be salvaged. Your body is mine to do with as I please-your mind will learn subservience, or it will be lost."

He moves lower, raising goosebumps from my earlobe to my neck with a trail of too-gentle kisses. He'd already taken my life once. I'm sure he can do so again, but this time, more permanently.

"You'll beg me to stop initially." Wesker kisses my neck, his teeth nipping lightly at my skin. He pulls back a fraction, his eyes gleaming. "Then you'll beg me to keep going because I know deep down, my little slut craves it."

A surge of jittery excitement shoots through my nerves. My muscles scream from the strain of being stretched so tightly, and all I can do is try to keep breathing as he toys with me, igniting my skin with every touch.

My mind fights for the remnants of my delicate mortality; though the deep-seated, overwhelming part of me that utterly submits to him is practically vibrating at his vehemence.