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cw: rape mention

sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve to call it rape cause I wasn’t drunk enough to be totally out of control, as if that’s how it works. 

i’m having a breakdown at 3am and just googled his name. turns out he’s a royal marine now, figures. 

I need a part two of eve Wester chasing us. But this time he caught us? Where will he keep his dear-heart and what will he do when he catches them at last; after escaping him last time

Warnings:rape, yandere, SA, obsession,just not okay shit, tentacles I guess?

I do not support anything in this fic. None of this is okay and I do not condone. Please please do not read of you are sensitive to this stuff. Also sorry if this isn't what you wanted but this is what I think would be the most likely scenario.

Yandere!Albert Wesker x reader

Alternative ending...

You ran like hell through the halls trying to find the hatch quick. Or at least try to waste time so the Entity would take you. Of course the Entity had to put you in another match with him. After you literally just got out of one with him.

You barely escaped him last time now you have to do it again. The Entity is probably laughing and enjoying this. Your breathes were ragged and heavy. Your legs burned with every step but you couldn't give up.

He was right behind you with Uroboros at he ready. You eventually heard the hatch but before you could do anything you tripped over rubble that was lying around. Your eyes widened and stung with tears. You hit the concrete hard and your vision blurred.

"Tsk Dearheart you gotta be more careful" he said and out Uroboros away. He left the room and you heard him slam hatch shut. You let out a small sob as hoped the Entity would take you now. But after seconds passed and nothing happened you realized that the Entity wasn't going to end the match so soon.

You immediately tried to get up and run away but a wave of vertigo hit you. You braced yourself for impact and shut your eyes. But instead you felt arms around you and looked up at the blonde. You trembled in his grasp and twas flowed down your face.

He brought a hand to your face and wiped tears away. "Your not escaping me this time Dearheart..." He lowered his head towards your face and planted a soft kiss in your lips. Your breath hitched and you started to squirm which caused him to grip you tighter.

"What did I just say? Your staying with me, your mine" he said lowly in your ear. His eyes glowed and he held you tightly against him. "Somehow I'll make the Entity have a place just for us...Of course I'll still go to trials but you.. you'll stay there not able to escape and be my good little dearheart.." he spoke in a raspy voice

You felt something poking you and after a while you realized what it was. You gasped and started to try and wriggle out of his arms. He groaned at the friction and he picked you up. "Let me go!" You screeched "Now now dearheart just be my good little pet and everything will be okay" he said and laid you on a table.

You kicked but it was pointless he was stronger than you. He undid his pants and freed himself. "Your gonna be good and let me breed you, okay dearheart?" He wasn't expecting and answer because you didn't have a choice. You noticed his face was all flushed and red and his breathes were heavy. You thought at this point he would drool but surprisingly he didn't.

You didn't bother screaming because it was pointless. Nobody was there to help and Wesker always gets what he wants. He got rid of your bottoms. He immediately thrusted in causing you to let out a pained scream.

You gripped the table and let out a sob. Wesker moaned and threw his head back. "Hah..your gripping me so tight.." he growled, you started squirming but his grip on you was tight. He brought out Uroboros and it slithered around your body. It tore off your shirt and now you were fully exposed. You let out a gas as your nipples were exposed to the cold air. The immediately hardened and Uroboros wrapped around your breasts and started playing with them.

They pulled and tweaked with your nipples and you hid your face in shame. Wesker's pace was rough and fast. His hips stuttered and your eyes widened and you cried out "Wait please!-" you begged but it was to late. Wesker buried himself in your and his cum shot in you.

"Sorry dearheart but no cum is going to waste...I'm going to breed you wether your like it or not" he said and the started thrusting again. The pain of his thrust's stated to turn pleasurable. Your face heated up and subconsciously you let out a moan. Your eyes widened at what you did and looked at Wesker who smirked.

"Are you finally enjoying it?" He picked up the pace causing your moans to become louder. You clenched your eyes and you came hard. Wesker soon followed after, he let out a loud harsh groan. Uroboros wrapped around your throat startling you. You let out a gasp and the it thrusted the appendage in your mouth. You mumbled and tried to protest but it was useless.

Wesker looked at you with lust and started to fuck you again. The appendage thrusted in your throat at a medium pace. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your body shook. "Aw are you gonna come soon dearheart..?" He teased soon a liquid shit down your throat and you had no other choice but to swallow.

You came a second time after one last thrust of Weskers hips slammed against yours. He grinned at your messy state. "Don't pass out on me dearheart we're still not done"

Present Silence

C̲l̲o̲c̲k̲w̲o̲r̲k̲ ̲x̲ ̲N̲o̲n̲-̲B̲i̲n̲a̲r̲y̲!̲ ̲r̲e̲a̲d̲e̲r̲

❥ Warnings: mentions of neglect, mental instability, hints to eating disorder, mentions of cancer, death of a parent

𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴! 𝙸𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜.

⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

   (Y/n) wasn’t much for silence, yet it was the exact thing that haunted them in the dead of night. You could say it rooted from a traumatic event from their childhood; an abandonment that made them become almost non-pellucid to the outside world. Not that they cared. They saw society in a fixed lens, seeing every little speckle of morality as if it was a blemish on their sketch book.

  However, the white tiled halls outside their room didn’t even make any motion. No reverberation of heels clicking against the marble or the creaking of an old wheelchair rolling down the narrow walls. It’s as if the present became quietude itself. Static fills the emptiness inside (Y/n)’s head, spreading down throughout their body like a virus. It bleeds into their veins, leaving a heavy formication. Their fingers itch and claw at the ashen sheets below them, pulling at the restraints hung taut at the edge of the bed.

  They wanted to scream, beg to the black figure standing in the corner to stop. It watches them with gaping eyes, its black irises widening with delegation. The creature wasn’t real, they knew this. The suppressed subjectivity of their mind was interesting. The morbidity that it plays with made (Y/n) want to laugh. To say that it all started with a drawing was much too simple.

  The doctors liked to prescribe it as a disease; a disease that will slowly consume (Y/n) as they spiral into madness within these matted panels. (Y/n) thought of this ‘sickness’ as gospel. With their new pair of glasses, they could distinguish what was true and what was false. Who was for them and who was not. That power does come with a cost.

  (Y/n) was quite bright as a child, finding new ways to express themselves as an upcoming member of a Utopia they thought existed. With a pencil and paper, they could abstract anything that popped into their young mind. They love to draw. It was an activity that allowed them to show others how they saw the world. Bright and opportunistic, with the sun shining over everyone in brand lighting.

  ‘That world doesn’t exist. Get over your stupid dreams of becoming something that’s unrealistic.’

  Their mother had told them that a long time ago, when the colors they once saw turned bland. When their father left, life as they knew it flipped upside down. ‘You can be anything, and I’ll be there for you,’ he said. What a joke. He should have known that the cancer would get to him before (Y/n) would ever aspire in a work ethic. Their mother wasn’t much of an enthusiast, especially after her husband died. The one luminosity that ever dared to make her smile was the one that left her with a kid she didn’t even love.  

  Life wasn’t too bad. (Y/n) still had the gift of sight and vision that provided them with the love of drawing. As they woke up from the distant memory of a peachy story, they then realized their potential. No one understood their craft though, using the aphorism that grotesque and dark art did not aid in this world’s progression. (Y/n) did not adjure this type of thinking. Didn’t they see it wasn’t that of a pretentious display?

  The school recommended that they be transferred in an institute during their third year of high school. (Y/n)’s mother was more than compliant for their requests. ‘They need medical help. A kid their age should not be thinking so deeply about these things.’ The nurses were nice enough. They had charming smiles and always made nice comments on (Y/n)’s latest projects. They were fake, sadly. Though, (Y/n) appreciated their efforts to perceive the meaning.

  The crisp breath of the inky silhouette fans over (Y/n)’s face. A shudder goes down their spine, pricking their nerves like hot wax. It lies on their leaden body, grabbing at the muscles of their neck with a tight squeeze. (Y/n) was hyperventilating again, the edges of their field of vision spotting. It was a trick. Why was their mind going against them so?

  They twist and turn against the restraints tied around their limbs, the leather rubbing into their skin harshly. The feeling of it burning at the pellicle of their wrists and ankles erupts another feeling inside the pit of their stomach. They needed to get out. They wanted out. The sudden anticipation to move ached in their joints and they struggle more against the phantasmal weight on them.

  (Y/n)’s hands slip through the material, and they heave themselves upward. The darkness emitting their sight disperses into the shadows of the room, leaving them to gasp for air. Rubbing at the red pigmentation of their abused wrists, they kick off the belts holding their feet. The distant sound of a clock erupts the quiet void of the room.

  The window adjacent to the door opens gradually, and the form of a girl crawls in. The constant ticking coming from the girl’s retina eases the density crawling at (Y/n) with vigor. The static falls into a pleasant buzz on their skin.

  The girl pushes her brown locks out of her face, her one hazel orb almost glowing in the moonlight. Her sewn smile stifles one to reach (Y/n)’s blue-tinted lips. She reaches into the bag hanging over her shoulder, unzipping it with ease. She pulls out a black book and tosses it onto the thin bedding. Despite her not speaking, (Y/n) nods their head in appreciation.

  “Thank you, Clocky…” (Y/n) huskily remarks. Their fingers graze over the rough fabric of the cover and they open it to see it was another sketch book. It was probably one she snatched from one of her 'jobs’. She would never say what she did, but that didn’t cause any frustration on (Y/n)’s part. “You always know how to make me feel better…”

  “I saw you screaming again,” Clockwork replies, “Did you have another episode?” She sits down on the mattress, crossing her arms.

  (Y/n) simply taps at their head, the pads pointing towards their left eye. They suddenly get up from their position, their malnourished body contorting with audible pops. Clockwork watches them with precise movements as they grab for a box under the furniture. (Y/n) opens it, grabbing some paper and two graphite pencils.

  “Will you draw with me?” They ask sweetly.

  Clockwork looks towards the door, before breathing out. “Alright, but only for a little bit. I’m not supposed to be here.” She places herself on the cold floor as (Y/n) positions the material.

  “I’ll show you the new monster I saw tonight. I’ll call it Present Silence…” They muse as they begin to drag the charcoal tip over the clean sheet of paper with eager. Clockwork observes as they wind the black substance in circles. Normal people would call (Y/n)’s art as childish or rubbish, but she was fascinated with it. They drew the way she saw the world.

  “Are you not in the mood to draw?” (Y/n) asks, stopping for a moment to look up.

  Clockwork hums in response before grabbing the book from (Y/n)’s lap.

  “I’m not finished-” They reply, but don’t fight with her as he looks over it.

  “Present Silence, you say?”

  They nod with a smile. “It suffocated me.”

  She gathers her thoughts, before placing a hand on (Y/n)’s head. She brushes her fingers through their hair; these were the hands of a killer. Her hazel eye locks with (Y/n)’s as they wait for a response. She gives them back their art piece and picks herself off the ground.

  “Where are you going?” (Y/n) says sadly, “Stay for a little longer?”

  Clockwork climbs over the windowsill, her hand holding onto the glass. She glances back, a ghostly tender look veiling over her harsh looking demeanor. “The next time I visit, I’m bringing something special.”

  “What you bring me is always special,” They answer.

  “See you…” Clockwork says in response, closing the window back to where it was before she entered. Present Silence once again greets the lonely figure within the room.

 ⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶