jimmy slag

WARNING! This will contain ( NON-CON, VOMIT, P-IN-V SEX, MILD FINGERING, FILTH / LACK OF PERSONAL HYGIENE, INCEL MINDSET, DACRYPHILIA, AND MENTIONS OF SCAT, AGE PLAY, FARTING, CHOKING, MOMMY KINK. ) DO NOT ENGAGE IF YOU CANNOT HANDLE DEAD DOVE / DO NOT LIKE THIS / WILL BE TRIGGERED! AUTHOR NOTE! credit goes to @lulaaaaaaw ( the nasty yet sexy slut who gave me this idea ) . This content is normally not something I write, but it was very interesting to go on a more darker path with my writing <3 pairing: Incel! Fat! Jimmy Crystal x Retail Worker! Reader prompt : What Jimmy wants, he'll get one way or another.. word count: 1,000+ words WARNING! This will contain ( NON-CON, VOMIT, P-IN-V SEX, MILD FINGERING, FILTH / LACK OF PERSONAL HYGIENE, INCEL MINDSET, DACRYPHILIA, AND MENTIONS OF SCAT, AGE PLAY, FARTING, CHOKING, MOMMY KINK. ) DO NOT ENGAGE IF YOU CANNOT HANDLE DEAD DOVE / DO NOT LIKE THIS / WILL BE TRIGGERED!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND.

It was stupid. Why did you need to be the one handing out samples? There were three other girls who could’ve done this. Sucking in a breath through your teeth, you glare at the samples on the tray, trying to pretend like you weren’t aware of the creeps watching you from the Gamestop across the hall. Coconut. Teatree. Spearmint. Cherry Blossom. Just focus on that. Coconut. Teatree. Spearmint. Cherry Blossom. Hearing shuffled footsteps approaching your little set up, you half lift your eyes up, focused on gathering the free samples. The stench hits you first, like an uppercut straight from the pits of hell. 

God, it was hard to describe it as anything other than pure filth. Holding back a gag of disgust at the sudden punch from the stench, you lift your gaze up fully to find a man, greasy blonde hair and a nervous smile on his face. He had to be one of the creeps from Gamestop. Only those fuckers didn't bathe. Forcing the customer service smile on your face to stay in place, it takes all of your strength to not hurl, your hands trembling from the restraint. He was attractive..if he didn’t look like a total creep who lived in his Mom’s basement. Maybe with a good shower and you could maybe date him...not really.

“Hello there.” You greet, putting on a bubbly voice.

“Hi..” He glances down at your name tag slowly, eyes lingering for a beat as if he was memorizing it. “Uh…( Y/n ).”

“Hi there..” You smile, pretending like this wasn’t draining the life out of you.

“Jimmy.”

“Oh, is that your name?” You fake a giggle, “Well, hello there, Jimmy. I take it, you're interested?”

He doesn’t respond.

Not a grunt. Not a laugh. Not even one of those cringeworthy pick-up lines that the creeps at Gamestop normally blurt out about now. Staring at you with wide eyes, you let out a light nervous chuckle, squirming around in place. The silence drags. The only sound being his heavy breathing and your nervous chuckles. Nervously swallowing the dry lump in your throat, you fiddle with the bottle of coconut lotion, playing with the loose cap. Should you leave? Was he having some kind of medical emergency? Shifting from side to side on his feet, he opens his mouth up, flashing yellowed teeth. The chuckle in your throat dies, a shudder running down your spine. Forget being nice anymore, you couldn’t stand to be around him anymore. He was just as disgusting as he smelt. How someone could live their life like that? It was vile.

“So..do you want it?” You ask, furrowing your brows at his silence.

“I mean..if you’ll let me have your number.” He purses his lips together, pulling what you think is supposed to be some kind of sexy smolder.

“I meant the sample, sir.” You correct, cringing internally. 

Flushing a bright red from embarrassment at your correction, he doesn’t respond, snatching the small bottle of coconut lotion from your hand. Speed walking without a second glance, you bite hard on your bottom lip, cringing at how awkward the encounter was. Geez, he seriously needed to socialize more. Then again, all the creeps from Gamestop needed to socialize more. Letting out a breath through your nose, you gag at the lingering stench in the air, tasting the sourness in your mouth. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Covering your mouth with the back of your hand, your gag worsens at the artificial stench of coconut lotion on your hand. Fuck. Removing your hand from your mouth, you shiver in disgust, feeling like you need a bath. Ugh, fucking incel creeps.

“What was that?” Your co-worker questions, snickering. 

“Some fucking loser from Gamestop.” You huff, rolling your eyes hard in annoyance. “Fucking reeked like the dumpster out back.” 

“Ugh, loser.” She gags, making you nod.

“A loser in a fucking weird ass outfit.” 

“What?” She raises a brow, “The tracksuit or the weird gold jewelry? Like who needs that many tacky gold necklaces?” 

“I don’t know. Some people are weird like that.” You shrug.

"Fucking loser.." She fakes a gag, making your snort at her theatrics.

Pretending to stick her fingers down her throat, she pretends to projectile vomit over the samples, making dramatic gagging noises. Covering your mouth with your hand, you try to stifle your laughter, a tiny part of you still worried that creep was gonna see the two of you making fun of him. Maybe, he just wasn’t aware how bad he smelt and looked? Most of the creeps from Gamestop were oblivious, feeding each other with delusions and whatever the fuck they did in that store. Letting out one last theatrical gag, you lean against the table, drumming your nails against the sample tray. It was kinda bitchy of you to be joking with her about this. But, this was retail, all you could do was crack jokes about shit like this or else you would go insane. 

“So, why are you over here, hm?” You joke, batting your eyelashes playfully at her. “Missed me that much? I know you love my ass, but one day you’re gonna have to get used to not seeing it every day.”

“Oh yeah, totally.” She nods, “I missed you so much that I got a new job for you to do.”

“Being…?” You raise a brow, curiosity as to what it would be.

“Take out the expired lotions to the dumpster.” She smiles, making you scoff.

Of course. First, they had you handing out stupid samples knowing that you’d get approached by the creeps from Gamestop. Now, they wanted you to walk to the creepy dumpster behind the mall to throw out samples. Lazy bitches. Shaking your head in annoyance, you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes as hard as you can, your lips curling down into a cranky little scowl. You don't get paid enough for this.

“Oh, that’s fucked up.” You scoff, narrowing your eyes at her smugness.

“Yeah, well, you get out of handing out lotions to the creepy Gamestop guys.” She reminds, making you perk up.

“Which bag do I take?” 

Blinking away the blurriness in your vision, you let out a low moan of pain, the back of your head throbbing in pain. You swear you could feel a second heartbeat in it, and dent in your skull. Rolling on your side softly, the world spins hard from the sudden move, hot stomach acid going up your throat suddenly. Covering your mouth with your hand to try to stop it, chunks of your lunch spill out from your mouth, the sour stench filling the air. Fuck. Gagging violently on chunks of vomit, you flinch as someone holds back your hair gently, a low soothing hum filling your ears. The warmth of someone’s chest presses against you. It was gentle…and oddly grounding at the same time.

Struggling to get your vision back to normal, you shut them tightly, sinking back into the chest pressing against your back. It brought you a little comfort. You just wanted this to stop⎯the pain, the vomit, the gurgling of your lower gut. Sobbing softly at the lingering taste of vomit in your mouth, you open your eyes up slowly, finding yourself not in a hospital room. It was a bedroom. And it wasn’t yours either. Furrowing your brows in confusion at your strange surrounding's, you couldn't remember anything, just a sudden pain and darkness as something hit you from behind. Looking around the room for something familiar, piles of dirty clothing and crumbled up trash littered the floor. Chips and…fast food wrappers? Or were those crumpled up tissue paper?

“The video didn’t say that you’d throw up.” A voice mumbles, the sound making your head throb.

“What?” 

“I think I hit you in the wrong spot.” They continue to ramble, “But, I didn’t want to ruin your pretty face. Pretty things shouldn't break, we need to protect them, that’s what Mummy always says.” 

What? Furrowing your brows in confusion at the rambling, it didn’t make sense, but you couldn’t tell if it was because your head was killing you or what he was saying. Brushing it off as a side effect of the hit to your head, you cringe at the chunks of vomit on your hand, looking for something to wipe it on. But, there was nothing but piles of dirty clothes around you. You had already puked down the side of his bed, you didn’t want to be even more of a dick and wipe your hand on some of his clothes. Grabbing your wrist with his free hand, you gag as he licks the palm of your hand, disgustingly slow. Like he was licking melted ice cream or frosting.

Sharply turning your head away, you refuse to look at him, staring at the specs of dust in the air like it was some kind of word of art. You wouldn’t. You fucking wouldn’t because it would only make you puke again. Sucking on your fingers agonizingly slow, you shudder in disgust, his tongue swirling around your fingertips like it was meant to be romantic. You force yourself to write this off as a hallucination⎯because anything but was just vile. Pulling away with a wet pop, you shudder in disgust, unable to stop yourself. Wiping your hand on your pants, you turn your head to the side, finding the familiar staring back at you. It was the creep from the mall. Gamestop boy.

“Where am I? I don’t remember…just..” You trail off at the end, your head throbbing too much to remember.

“Home.” He replies, as if it was the most normal explaintaion.

“Home?” 

“Mm-hm.” He nods, “We’re home now.”

“Did I pass out⎯” You try, but he cuts you off.

“I don’t know. I found you, behind the mall. Nobody was around, they all left. Left you there like you were just..trash.” He explains, “So, I took you home. I didn't want someone to take advantage of you, I’m a good guy.” 

They left you? They just left you outside, knocked out beside the dumpster? Feeling tears bubble up in your eyes, you turn your head away to hide them from him, your bottom lip trembling involuntarily. You’d never fucking do that to them. Never. Sniffing softly as more tears bubble up, he rubs his hand up and down your arm, a sweet attempt to offer some kind of support. It only made you want to cry even more. The fact that the creepy guy from Gamestop looked out for you, over your own co-workers was fucking ridiculous. Harshly wiping away the tears in your eyes, you clear your throat softly, forcing down the thickening lump in your throat. Fuck them.

“Thank you.” You mumble, unsure if you had remembered his name correctly. “Jimmy, right?” 

“You remembered.” 

“Kinda, I faintly remember it.” You shrug, “Everything still is kind of blurry.” 

“I bet it is, you took a really hard hit to the head. You know, most guys would’ve just raped you, maybe even slit your throat. You weren’t moving, barely breathing. But not me, I knew that I had to keep you safe.” He rambles, the words making you cringe.

Tucking back a strand of hair behind your ear, you flinch at the touch, the brush of his calloused fingertips against your throbbing temple ache. You could feel his hot breath against the side of your face. The stench of his rotten breath curling out from his parted lips. He was comforting…weird, but surprisingly comforting. It only made you feel worse for being so disgusted by him. He just…reeked. It was like the stench had been left to fester too long on his skin that it was now one with his body. God, you sounded like such a dick thinking that.

“I’m sorry..” 

“Don’t be.” He shakes his head, “I forgive you.” 

“I mean..for throwing up on your floor.” You whisper, the sourness of stomach acid lingering on your tongue. “Just feel sick from moving around so much.”

Shifting your gaze away from him, you take the time to really look at the apartment, your mind slowly growing more and more clear with each comforting rub of his hand. Piles of dirty clothes scattered around⎯some on the desk, hanging out of open dresser drawers, a few in the corner that most definitely would like a monster at midnight. Wrappers for just about every single fast food restaurant crumpled up on the floor, some still with smears of ketchup on them. A few crusty tissues that you were praying for were only used to clean dust off something and not for his cum. 

A collection of monster energy cans, all limited edition cans. The walls were peeling, the shade of pale yellow floral wallpaper no longer bright and cheery. There were a few holes in the wallpaper, but most of them were covered with posters. Pamela Anderson. A faceless woman in leather pants with pink ribbon tying her hands behind her back. Some kind of video game thing..Postal? It looked like someone’s old grandma’s bedroom, just filled with the clutter of a gross teenage boy. Squinting your eyes softly, you felt dirty just sitting here, like you needed to be boiled in hot water and soaked in hand sanitizer.

“You really should be happy that it was only me that found you.” 

“I am.” You nod.

“You..You kind of owe me..in a way.” He mumbles, his voice trailing off slowly. 

Your stomach drops at his words. All the comfort that he had previously given you dying fast and hard. Swallowing the lump in your throat, he rubs your arm one last time, before removing it completely. Shifting on the bed, you jolt softly as the mattress dips, the old bedframe creeping from both of your combined weight. Please, just mean that you owe him a coffee. Please. Please. Please. Pressing himself harder against your back, you clench your jaw tightly at the press of something hard against your ass, praying that it was only his knee. His ringed fingers slowly rest on your thigh, careful. As if he was testing the waters to see what was okay before you snapped and bolted for it.

“Please, don’t⎯” You whisper, but he cuts you off.

“I’m a good guy. My Mummy raised me right, you’re supposed to take care of pretty girls.” He continues, “Protect them from evil, from the demons of this world. Be a gentleman, and you will be rewarded. I think I’m ready for my reward now.” 

Not a fucking chance. You’d buy him a coffee, maybe a long hug of appreciation. But, there was no fucking way that you’d do more than that. Shaking your head in refusal as his hand wanders up your thigh, you blink back tears, pushing him away with your hand. You need to get out of here. You needed to get the fuck out of here. Running his fingers through your hair, you flinch at the touch, scrambling up to your feet. The world around you spins, the urge to hurl creeping up your throat.

Fuck. Grabbing onto the bed frame for support, you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, forcing back down the acidic bile in your mouth. No. No. No. Don’t fucking fail now. Watching you stand up silently, he doesn’t react just yet, just silently watches you. Blinking softly, he glances over your face slowly, lips pulled into a thin line as he takes your nauseous expression. The carpet lets out a disgusting wet squelching sound as you step on your vomit, your sneakers ruined. 

“Don’t be a prude.”

“I’m not a fucking prude! And⎯And, look, I am so grateful that you helped me. But⎯But, I’m not a fucking thing, and I’m not fucking kissing or…or whatever it is that you’re thinking that I should do to repay you.” You ramble, taking a shaky step back from the bed. 

“You owe me.” 

“I don’t.” You shake your head, “Not like this! I’ll⎯I’ll write you a check or something, just..”

Just fucking stop being so god damn weird about it, was on the very tip of your tongue. But, the words don’t come out. His face grows cold at your words, like something straight from a horror movie⎯the moment the final girl does something stupid and pisses off the killer. Blinking back tears in your eyes, you cower as he towers over you, broad and intimidating. Why the fuck did this have to happen to you? Why not the bitch pretzel lady in the food court?

Wrapping his hand around your neck tightly, you shudder at the cold metal of his rings against your skin, the fear babbling up more and more in your lower gut. He had you trapped, like a lamb who had unknowingly been dragged into a slaughterhouse. All that you could do was take it and take it, until he had his fill. Or…Or you could make a run for it and pray that it would work. 

“Stay the fuck away from me.” 

“I helped you, I helped you when no one else would.” He argues back, “I could’ve raped you. I could’ve killed you. I could've left you alone. But, I didn’t. I did a good thing.” 

“You did, but⎯”

“I deserve a reward. Don’t be like those other whores, who fucking use blokes like me and then treat us badly!" He spits in your face, "You’re fucking different, so stop acting like them!” 

Trailing his eyes down slowly down your body, he lingers on your breasts, his free hand reaching out to grab them. Smacking his hand away instinctively, he squeezes painfully on your throat, a choked gasp escaping your lips as he denies you air. Clawing at the back of his hand with your nails, he clicks his tongue scoldingly, a condescending look on his face. Loosening his grip on your throat, you choke on air, spit oozing out from your mouth. The throbbing in your head was one thing. The weakness in your body was another. Now this? Choking you? Slowly removing his grip entirely on your throat, you tense up as he trails a finger down the collar of your shirt, the baggy t-shirt hiding the fullness of your chest from view. The only good thing about the tacky uniform. Your lungs burn, and not just from being choked before.

"Jimmy.."

"My Mummy would've liked you." He whispers, "You were so nice to me, nicer than those other whores. They just look at me in disgust, like I'm trash. But, you.."

"Jimmy, please, just.."

"You actually looked at me, in the eye. You asked me my name. You were so nice to me, and I just..I just couldn't let you go. And I know that you rejected me cause those whores would've made fun of you, so I don't blame you. You would've said yes if they weren't there." He continues, too consumed with his rambling.

Flicking the collar with his finger, he suddenly grabs it with both hands, ripping it down to your midriff. The stickiness of the air clinging onto your skin. Fresh tears bubble up in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling as you realize what was to come. Looking over your bra slowly, he grabs a handful of your breast, as if testing how they feel in his hand. He squeezes painfully, eyes focused on your nipple. Nothing comes out. Why would anything? You weren’t pregnant, never had been. Clicking his tongue in disappointment, he squeezes hard, as if he thought that he could force something out of them. But, nothing does. It just hurts, like getting a mammogram done. Finding a burst of motivation, you slap his hand away hard, making a bolt for the bedroom door. You legs nearly give out on you, but you push through it. You needed to get the hell out of here. He was sick...sick and delusional.

“Don’t.” He sighs, as if he had been expecting this but was still disappointed. 

“Stay the fuck away from me!” You jiggle the doorknob, but it doesn’t open.

“The door is locked.” He explains calmly, “So is the one down the hall, and the other one, and the other one. Windows too. You can’t get out, not unless I let you out.”

Giving the stick handle another hard jiggle, it doesn’t budge open, as if someone had locked it from the other side. Fuck. Looking around for another way to escape, he stands at the foot of his bed, just watching you in amusement. Who the fuck does this to other people? Jiggling the door in desperation, he slowly pushes himself off the bed frame, bare feet nudging away from wrappers. Why? Why? Why?

Bursting into tears as he towers over you, you wished that you had died, that he had just left you to die behind the dumpster. Grabbing you by the hair, you sob at the pain it sends down your spine, the back of your head still sensitive. Throwing you down to the edge of the bed, he ignores your thrashing, using his strength and towering frame to bend you over onto your stomach. Your sneakers hit the bed frame, his weight suddenly pressing down on you. 

“No! No!” You sob, “No! God no! Jesus help me!” 

“Why are you calling on those shite cunts for?” He clicks his tongue, tilts his head to the side.

“Please, please, you don’t have to do this. I’ll not tell anyone, I won’t tell the police.” 

Frowning at the rough texture of your jeans, he grabs a handful of your hair, rolling you onto your back. The pressure of his fingers against the sensitive spot on your head makes you sob harder, a hot pain shooting down you in waves. Hitting and kicking at anything within reach, you barely notice him unzipping your jeans, slowly peeling them down your thighs like it was a Christmas present. The coldness of his rings against your hot skin snaps you back to reality. Leaving your jeans pooling around your ankles, you sob heavily as he looks over your bare legs, drooling at the exposed skin. Tightening his grip on your hair, he forces your head up from the mattress, the throbbing worsening in your head. Death was far more merciful than this. 

“Please, Jimmy, don’t⎯” 

“Stop being a teasing slut like all the other girls.” He snaps back, “I don’t want to have to hurt you, but I will if you make me.”

“Please..” You beg, hoping that you could somehow appeal to some part of him.

“You owe me.” He argues, yanking your panties down your thighs.

“Jimmy, don’t do this. I’m begging you, please…” You try again, your bottom lip trembling as he breaks the elastic of your panties from the force. “Please..”

Chuckling darkly at your weak attempt to get him to stop, he grips your hips painfully tight, flipping you over onto your stomach in one smooth motion. Before you can catch your breath, he's covering your back with his larger frame, the thick line of his cock nestling between your ass cheeks. The coarse hairs on his chest brushing against you. The stench of him enveloping your nose. Nipping at your earlobe playfully, you whine at what was to come, nails tangling into the wrinkled bed sheets.

One hand snakes around to rub tight circles on your sensitive clit, clumsy and too rough at times. Flinching at the rough friction of his calloused fingertips, he pulls his hand back, his lips curling down at the flinch. Sloppily spitting on his hand, he snakes his hand back around, rubbing his wet fingertips over your clit. The friction a little less painful, but still clumsy. Pathetically clumsy, like he's never touched a woman before this moment. And you didn't doubt it must've been.

“That’s better.” He mumbles, “Didn’t mean to hurt you, just wanna make you feel good.” 

“Please, just⎯” 

“I’m a quick learner, my Mummy says I am.” He rambles, “And you’re gonna teach me, and the next time I’ll know what to do and you won’t ever flinch again.”

Like hell would there be a next time with him, not if you could fucking help it.  Pressing more of his weight against you, you grit your teeth painfully, hips twitching involuntarily at the friction on your clit. It was cruel the way you’re body twitched, but it was only natural. It was still pleasure at the end of the day, and you would react to it⎯even if your mind didn’t want it to. Pressing even more of his weight down on you if that was possible, you could feel the ache already forming in your lower back, the awkward angle putting strain on you. 

It hurt, but not as much as what was sure to come. Nipping a little harder on your ear, you flinch again, hot tears bubbling up in your eyes. Hopefully, he’d finish too quickly and then you could try to find some escape. There had to be some way out of here. A loose window still. An unlocked door. Something⎯Anything. Frowning softly as you flinch again, he releases your ear, his fingers faltering. He didn’t like the rejection. He didn’t like the way you flinched. You were supposed to be happy. You were supposed to be enjoying this as much as he was.

“You’re hurting me⎯” 

“I’ll rub softer, I promise.” He mumbles, “I just wanna make you feel good, stop fighting it.” 

“You’re heavy. You’re hurting me.” 

“I’m not that heavy.” He huffs, his grip tightening on your hip. “I’m healthy.”

For a fucking whale, maybe. 

Pressing more of his weight down on you, you claw at the stained bedsheets, trying to crawl your way from under him. His face falls at the sight, offended that you’d think he was fat. He wasn’t fat. He was just holding onto a little bit of baby fat, that’s what his Mum used to always say. That’s all it was⎯a little bit of baby fat. Pulling his hand away from your clit fully, he slaps your ass hard, the rings on his hand only worsening the feeling. Your cheeks sting from the impact, tears bubbling up further in your eyes. A sob threatens to escape your lips. Scowling deeply as you don’t even bother to apologize after the slap, he slaps your ass hard again, using more force than before. Each punishing slap feels like someone was hitting you with a metal pipe, the rings adding extra friction.

“I’m not fat, I’m healthy. My Mummy used to say it's a good weight.” He argues, “I’m a good guy, ( Y/n ). And..And, I don’t want to have to hit you like this, but you’re being mean.” 

“Please, stop.” You beg, ass throbbing from the spanks.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He mumbles, “But, Mummy used to say that when you talk bad, you need to get spanked for it.” 

Who the fuck cared what his Mummy used to say to him? Did the bitch not teach him not to rape anyone? Letting out a sob as he slaps your ass even harder, you cling onto the bed sheets, trying to think of a way to get him to stop. Begging clearing wasn’t going to work nor would kicking and fighting back. He was bigger and had you trapped underneath him. You’d have to do something else. Sobbing at another punishing slap, an idea pops into your head, making you want to hurl for having to use such a drastic measure to survive this⎯to survive him.

You could always pretend..pretend like you loved him. You could pretend like you weren’t disgusted by him⎯by this. You could pretend like you didn’t want to stick a knife between his eyebrows. You could pretend like you wanted this just as much as he clearly wanted this. Blinking back the tears in your tears, you flinch at the slaps, forcing yourself to take a breath in. Emotions would have to be pushed down and buried. You needed to survive. You needed to survive long enough for someone to notice that you were missing. Lifting his hand up again, you flinch, already anticipating another hard slap.

“Jimmy, stop please..” You force down your disgust, “I wanna talk about how I can please you.”

“What?” He freezes, feeling like you had just slapped him.

“You..You don’t know how to please me, and that’s okay. But, most couples..” You lie, “Most couples, they talk. They talk about what they like, that’s how sex becomes fun for them. They talk about kinks, and what they like and..and everything.”

“In porn⎯” 

“In porn, they are paid to do it. It’s a job for them, not pleasure. But, us?” You lie, “We’re doing this for pleasure, right? And⎯And I wanna pleasure you just as much as you want to with me.”

Furrowing his brows softly at your explanation, he nods his head softly in agreement, hesitantly pulling back from you. Sitting back on the bed, he watches you for a moment, not sure if this was a trick or not. It didn’t sound like a trick. You sounded serious, really serious. Digging your nails into the stained bed sheets, you force sit up from the bed, tears still streaming down your cheeks from the slaps to the ass. You shouldn’t be doing this. You should just be silent. You should just wait for him to finish. But, it never hurts to try. He clearly thought that you were supposed to be happy with this⎯with him. Maybe, if you played pretend⎯like you wanted this just as much as he did, it could help you in some way. Maybe, it could make him stop or go easy on you or not kill you.

“So..what do I say?” He asks innocently, like he hadn’t just assaulted you moments ago.

“Well, I’ll start so you have an idea on how to tell me what you like.” You nod, “I like being kissed during sex, I like feeling loved, and I like when someone listens to me. Like when I say stop, they stop and don’t do it again because that pleases me.”  

“Oh..”

“And what do you like, Jimmy?” You ask, dreading what kind of answer he’d give back.

“I..” He pauses for a moment, carefully thinking over the question. “I want you to touch me, I want you to take care of me.”

That was…surprisingly innocent, considering he had just assaulted you. Nodding your head in fake interest at his explanation, you sniffle softly, forcing yourself to pretend like you were talking to one of your girlfriends about your latest hook-up and not your rapist. Chewing on his bottom lip hard in thought, the longer the silence goes on, the worse the feeling in your gut gets. If he could rub at your clit and hold you down, god knows what else his twisted mind could come up with. 

Stealing a glance at the door, you could see light at the bottom, maybe another room or something was open? Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you slowly move an inch away from him on the bed, keeping it small enough that he wouldn’t notice. Maybe, if you kept him talking long enough, he’d forget about what he had just been doing. Or you could say that you were tired and wanted to wait for tomorrow so you two could have the whole day dedicated to having sex. 

“Yeah? Any kinks?” 

“I want you to be my Mummy, I know you’d be so good at it. I see the way you are when you give samples to the kids.” He rambles, getting more and more passionate the longer he speaks. “And, I want to lick your feet. I want you to grind on my belly while I suck on your milk.”

“Yeah?” You nod, faking interest.

“And I want you to sit on my face, to fart in my mouth. I want to poop on you, and I want you to clean it up with your mouth. I want you to change my diaper, to sing me lullabies and give me a pacifier.” He keeps on going, each kink worse than the previous one.

“That’s…” You pause, trying to find one kink that couldn’t revolt you completely. “I can be your Mummy, I can do that happily. But, I don’t want to do the other stuff, not now.” 

“But⎯” 

“That’s too much for us, don’t you think?” You argue, “We’re still learning how to have sex, learning what the other likes. We don’t want to overwhelm ourselves.” 

Furrowing his brows together at your reasoning, you scoot a little further away from him, now within an arms length of him. He doesn’t notice, at least you don’t think he notices just how much the gap between you has grown. Your pants rub against your ankles uncomfortably, the feeling of crunchy bed sheets underneath your bare ass was revolting. How you didn’t notice it before was surprising to say the least. Everything in here was just filth⎯from the fucking posters on the walls, all the way down to the carpet. Opening his mouth to speak, he stops himself at the last second, as if truly taking the time to think over your words. Which was surprising considering the fucker had just kidnapped and sexually assaulted you. This was when he listened? Now?

Slowly slithering a little further away from him, you sit on the very edge of the bed, your ass half hanging off of it. The silence stretches on, too long. For a moment, you think that he might have just noticed that you’ve put such a distance between the two of you. Shifting his gaze down onto his hands softly, you take advantage of his distraction, standing up from the bed. Leaning against the bed frame like it was intentional, you resist the urge to pull up your jeans and panties, feeling so exposed being undressed from the waist down. Your uniform shirt wasn’t long enough to cover you, barely reaching down to your navel. Lifting his gaze up from his hand, he stares at you, eyes flicking between the bed and you. Fuck.

“Why are you standing over there?” He asks, making you tense.

“I..I just wanted to⎯” You blubber, struggling to come up with a reasonable excuse.

“Why are you pulling away from me?” 

“I’m not⎯” You try to lie, but he cuts you off.

“Why are you pulling away from me, ( Y/n )? We were having such a good time, we were happy together.” He presses, his face growing more and more cold.

“Jimmy⎯”  

“We were having such a good time, ( Y/n ).” He rambles, “Why are you trying to leave me? Why are you doing this to us? Why are you trying to leave? Leave me?”

Opening your mouth to spout out some believable lie, he bolts up from the bed before you could react, grabbing a handful of your hair. Letting out a screech of pain, he drags you around like you weighed nothing, piles of trash kicking up from your thrashing around to break free. No. No. No. Sobbing as he pulls you closer and closer towards the bed, he releases you suddenly, leaving you to trip over your jeans pooled around your ankles. Smacking your hip hard against the corner of the mattress, he pins you against the bed, your chest pressed against the mattress with your feet dangling off it. The sound of a zipper sending another round of tears. No. No. No. 

“I tried to be good. I tried and..” He clenches his jaw, “And you just⎯you just fucking tried to leave! I did a good thing, ( Y/n ). You owe me for that, slut.”  

“Please, please, don’t⎯” 

“You should’ve behaved.” He answers back, his voice frighteningly cold. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you keep giving me no choice.”

Kicking your legs weakly to try to break free, you can hear him fumbling around to remove his pants without having to remove his hands from you, awkwardly doing a half shimmy. It doesn’t budge at first, then slips slightly. The hard press of his boner smacks against your ass as he shimmy’s around, left to right then left again. Letting out a low growl as his pants get stuck in the elastic band of his boxers, he thrusts his hips forward again, trying to get them to unravel. His knee hits the back of your thigh a few times, awkward and clumsy as he struggles. If you were so terrified of what was to come, you’d have laughed in his face for how pathetic he was.

Losing his patience as the waistband only curls more into his pants, he removes one of his hands from your hair, yanking them down his thighs. The fabric slowly slips down to his ankles, bare cock smacking against his fat stomach. Tiny droplets of pre-cum leak on your ass, making you sob even harder into the mattress. It was warm and if he had been any other man⎯any other situation, you’d have enjoyed the feeling of it. Pressing your head down into the mattress, he thrusts forward, his cock thrusting between your ass cheeks. He completely misses, only making him huff even more. Gritting his teeth in annoyance, he releases his grip on your hair completely, grabbing your ass to spread them open. 

“Open that pretty cunt for me.” He sneers, “You don't get to hide it from me.”

“Please, no⎯”

“Open up, or I’m gonna stick it in whatever hole I find.” He threatens, “I don’t care what I fuck.”

You believed him. Awkwardly thrusting forward, you cringe at the drag of the head of his cock between your folds, a foul stench filling your nose. Pressing your forehead against the mattress, you glance between your legs, finding a ring around his cock. It wasn’t a piercing, or the latex ring that a condom would have. No, it was gooey and yellowish in color. Almost like the kind of crust that would build up if you didn’t wash away soap right. Gagging violently at the sight, he blindly feels around, grabbing the base of his cock. His foreskin peels back, revealing the irritated head of his cock. It was oozing pre-cum and was swollen⎯and frankly, it looked painful.

God, you were definitely going to get some kind of STD or at the very least, a UTI from this. Guiding the head of his cock between your folds, you take a sharp breath in at the pressure, body tensing up. He was going through with it. He was actually going to do this, and there was nothing you could say or do to stop it anymore. Shutting your eyes tightly, he doesn’t push in, just stays frozen in place and that only worsens the fear in you. Sick fuck was gonna make you wait⎯wait for him to rape you. Letting out an exhausted breath, he hunches over you, crushing weight stealing a breath from you.

“Please..” 

“Shut up, slut.” He slaps at your clit hard, “Cry all you want, it’s not gonna stop me. I’ll just use your tears as lube.” 

“You can still stop this. We can still walk away⎯” 

“Too late for that.” He argues, cutting you off.

It was. It was too fucking late. Taking a hiccuping breath in at his words, you tightly shut your eyes, the feeling of defeat taking over. Slowly pushing the head of his cock in, you choke on a breath, an instant burning sensation filling you. It wasn’t just because of the gunk on the head of his cock, but the sheer size of him. Not even your toy rabbit was this big, and you had gotten the second biggest size from the online store. Letting out a pathetic whimper, he shudders violently above you, his hands switching between clawing at your hips and grabbing at the back of your uniform shirt like this was killing him. Red lines form on your skin, stinging like hell.

Bucking his hips involuntarily at the feeling of your walls stretching around him, he blubbers out gargled noises and what you think was a ‘Mummy’, the pain worsening. Furrowing his brows in pleasure, he pushes in a little more, the burning sensation growing and growing. Normally, you’d have done some more foreplay. Fingering. Eating you out. Maybe use some lube. But, that was with normal circumstances and a normal consenting partner. Yanking hard at the back of your uniform shirt, you choke as the collar presses hard against your throat, cutting off your air for a moment. Clawing at the crusty bed sheets with your nails, he bucks thrust forward clumsily, fat stomach slapping against your ass as he bottoms out. Disgust bubbles in your gut.

“Fuck⎯Fucking, it’s nothing like my hand.” He stutters out, his eyes shutting tightly as you involuntarily clench around him. 

You don’t respond. It hurt too much to even let out a breath. Besides, his fucked up mind might think that you letting out a noise it would be in pleasure and not because he was violating you. 

“Gonna⎯Gonna keep you forever.” He sobs, “So fucking good, Mummy.”

The sound of ‘Mummy’ from his lips was revolting. He was a grown ass man and yet calling you his ‘Mummy’. Sloppily pressing wet kisses along the side of your neck and cheeks, you cringe at the feeling, a string of saliva connecting from your skin to his lips. Setting a punishing pace, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room mingled with his low moans. You could feel his wife beater bunching up from the friction of his chest pressing against your back, until you could feel the hairs on his fat belly. Rough and coiled and reeking of sweat.

You could feel the drag of his cock inside of you. You could feel every vein, every little ridge down the shaft of his cock. You couldn't forget the feeling, even if you wanted to. Resting your forehead against the hot bed sheets, you can’t do anything but take every punishing thrust of his cock in you. In another life, you might have found pleasure in it. He had the cock most pornstar’s dreamed about having. But, you didn’t find pleasure. No. No, you’d only find pleasure when he finally stopped and got off of you. Then, and only then, would you feel pleasure.

“So fucking good, Mummy.” He hiccups, choking on slurred babbles and moans.

You refuse to respond, counting down the minutes in your head.

“Say I’m good, Mummy.” He babbles, “Say I’m doing a good job.”

Jolting forward with each slap of his hips against your ass, you bite hard on your tongue, refusing to let a single noise. It was spite and the will to survive this encounter that kept you going⎯that kept you enduring. Someone would come and save you. Someone would, and then Jimmy would get hell unleashed upon him. Gritting his teeth together, his thrusts grow sloppy fast, losing its punishing strength from before. Whimpering softly as his orgasm builds ridiculously fast, he tries to keep a fast pace, to keep going until you finally crack and make a noise. But, he can’t. Not when you’re clenching around him like this⎯even if it was just an involuntary movement of your body and didn’t mean anything. Hiding his face in your hair, he thrusts a few more times, shuddering violently as he cums. His hips jerked involuntarily a few times to keep his cum from oozing out.

“You didn’t say I was a good boy.” He whimpers, pouting heavily.

Silence.

“Hey! I know you’re not dead, you’re still breathing. Respond to me.” He slaps the back of your head, sending a wave of pain down your spine. “Respond or I swear I will do it again.”

“You’re a good boy, Jimmy.” You whisper, the words sour on your tongue.

“Next time, I’ll do a better job and give you pleasure. You just need to stop fighting. It’s not fun when you fight back.” He rambles, lecturing you like you were the problem here.

Staring at the crack underneath the door, you couldn’t see sunlight anymore, it was just pitch black now. Has it really been that long? You couldn’t tell. You hadn’t counted how long you had been in this room with Jimmy, only minutes later into the assault. You had counted five minutes before he came. So maybe an hour…maybe much longer. It was still light out when you had taken the trash to the dumpster, late afternoon? But, then again, he supposedly had found you after you’d been there for hours. Had a day past? Had you been here for a day already? Had anyone noticed your disappearance yet? Your boss? Your next door neighbor? One of your girlfriends? 

Slowly pulling out of you with a sickening wet squelching sound, you could feel his cum ooze out, sticky and slowly trickling down your inner thighs. Lifting himself off of you with an exhausted wheeze, he lifts you up like you’re nothing, throwing you onto the bed fully. Your back was killing you, and your inner thighs..and your legs…and so did everything else. Staring blankly at the wall, you sniffle softly, not sure when exactly you had stopped crying. Or maybe you never had stopped in the first place, only just grown silent. Stretching his hands over his head, he lets out a long and loud yawn, his back cracking. Scratching at his balls with his hand, he pulls his boxers back on. 

“Come on, time for bed, Mummy.” He yawns, “Tomorrow, we’re gonna spend the whole day together and you’re gonna show me what you can do with your mouth.”

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I am not trying to sound condescending at all, but I am asking if you ( the readers ) felt as though I put enough labels / warnings for this fic.