#there's no point to this other than wanting to give Jimmy the gluck gluck 3000 behind a circus tent??? what do you want me to say

[taintandviolent]

Leftovers. (Jimmy Darling x fem!Reader)

Summary: Your friend hosts little parties, and insists that you should take advantage of the real reason you all get together -- Jimmy Darling. You weren't interested in sharing, so you catch him on sales duty one hot weekend in July and take things into your own hands.

1.9k! warnings: smut!!! mentioned infidelity, oral sex/blowjobs (male receiving), oral fixation technically, food mention and uuhhh.. I think that's it!

Ao3 link here! 18+ below the cut!

tags: @zabelcolin @kaismanwich @thewolveswithin @marylovesevanpeters @80strashbag @r-3tro @kaissweetlamb @twinkiemaximoff @redwoodghost @nova-kayne67 @jspehquinn [ask to be added!]

“He’s great…. They sure aren’t pretty to look at, but they feel so good! You ought to try it!”

“I picture them every time now!”

“He comes every Thursday, Y/N.” Becky shook the spoon aggressively, dropping a heavy scoop of ambrosia salad onto your plate. “He’s here for hours,” she tittered. “There’s so many of us girls who need… livening up. It’ll be such a shame when he leaves town…”

The prongs of your fork poked holes in the sticky, white collection of fruit, whipped cream, and marshmallows as you considered Becky’s statement. Livening up, you thought. What a concept. I don’t need livening up. I need a full-on revival.

“Y/N?”

“Huh!?” You blinked.

“Did you want to visit the Lobster Boy? We are paying him, after all.”

“Oh! No, that’s alright, Becky.” Your calves burned, aching to get up and run down that hall, but something didn’t quite sit right with you. Maybe it was the setting. Maybe it was that Becky was always first and last to see him, and the resentment that boiled deep within your core for everything she had was souring the experience. You weren’t going to beg for scraps like a raccoon in the yard. You scraped up a forkful of ambrosia, shoving it into your mouth.

He’s probably not even that handsome.

Exactly thirteen minutes later, you saw how very, very wrong you were.

He emerged from the warmly lit hallway, one glove tucked under his arm as he manoeuvred the other one on. He leaned his hips to the side, avoiding the back of the sofa, and paused to make eye contact with you. He seemed to consider your face, committing to memory the way his eyes swept over every feature; your eyes, your lips, the soft curve of your chin as it led into your jaw and down your neck…

“I didn’t see you back there, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks burned, almost matching the burgundy of his shirt. “Oh, no I… well, I’m here for… I was… I don’t have any tea at my house, and Becky always has the newest Tupperware. I’m…. It’s….”

His warm laugh interrupted your stammering, which you were glad for. “You ain’t makin’ any sense, but you’re pretty enough that I believe it.”

As he headed out the door, the entire living room was a choir of “Bye, Jimmy!”

You’d finally had enough. Enough of your bleak, pathetic encounters with your fiancé, staring lifelessly at the ceiling while he orgasmed too quickly, and always with his eyes closed. Your fiancé, who you were almost certain spent most of his late nights in the hands of the office's secretary Joanne. Your fiancé who, despite your ceaseless pleas, never wanted you to pleasure him.

That one encounter with Jimmy Darling, better known by his ‘freak’ name, Lobster Boy, had been enough to lead you directly into temptation. By the time you’d made it to that field on the outskirts of Jupiter, the air was thick and sweltering, and the back of your dress was already damp with sweat.

“Well, look who it is.” He shifted his weight, bringing the metal chair forward again. The boyish way he grinned up at you sent a stream of arousal coursing through your core. “You here for the show?”

With one finger, you slid two bills — both of them twenties — carefully towards him. With both hands now free, you pulled the nearly finished (and quickly melting) popsicle from your mouth, pointedly sweeping it back and forth over your plush bottom lip. Jimmy’s dark eyes followed as it left sticky, glistening trails that plagued his mind with thoughts he knew damn well he shouldn’t have been thinking. 

“Our show ain’t forty dollars, doll.” He cleared his throat, refocusing. “Ain’t even twenty.”

You flattened your tongue, sliding the popsicle along the length before answering in a whisper. “Good to know, but I’m here for you.”

Jimmy raised his brows, confused. Once you caught his gaze, you held onto it for dear life, deepening it, winding him as far as you could until the implications were plainly written out for him. He swallowed hard, and the wooden chair creaked in protest as he shifted again. You tossed the red-stained popsicle stick into the tall grass.

He looked behind him to the main tent, then back at you, leaning forward to speak in a whisper. “Listen babydoll, I don’t…. I don’t really do that. It can attract the wrong attention for the show.”

“Oh, please…” You drew your bottom lip underneath your top lip in a pout, pleading with your eyes. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since Thursday. I won’t say a thing, I swear.”

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N…” you whispered.

Taking you by the wrist, he led you to the right of the main tent, around the back and through a small patch of the field where the grasses had been trodden down with continued visits. Clutching his hand firmly, you ducked around a dirty white canvas tent. There was something rigid inside because Jimmy leaned back against it before yanking you into his arms.

His hands slid up the back of your neck, sending a wave of shivering chills down your spine. The way he kissed you had you melting into him — his skin was warm and sun-kissed, and underneath the sweetness, he tasted faintly of liquor. He inhaled through his nose, and dropped his hands to your hips, gathering your dress up at the sides.

You pulled back, taking a few deep breaths. “Do you ever finish with them?”

He shook his head. “Nah, they ain’t there to get me off.”

“Well, I am….” As you sank to your knees, your hands trailed down the soft cotton of his shirt and came to rest on the hem of his pants. Jimmy’s brows knit together, and he placed his fist under your chin, urging it up.

“Now, hang on… you paid me forty bucks to get me off?”

You’d hoped this wouldn’t happen, though, underneath all the layers, you knew it would probably come up. Heaving a sigh, you gaze at the grass beneath your knees, focusing hard on all the little blades. Some were bright green while others had shrivelled up and died, having turned a depressing shade of brown.

“I…. I did. My husband, I just know he’s not being faithful, and…. He never lets me touch him. He doesn’t want anything to do with me. Unless it’s for a quick… y’know.”

Your confession was met with silence, but Jimmy’s hips pressed into the underside of your wrist.

“Baby… look at me.”

You lifted your eyes and met his.

“You’re too pretty to beg for a man’s attention… should be the other way around. In fact,” he growled. “I’m just about ready to start beggin’ for you, especially after that little popsicle stunt you did.”

A flustered gasp caught in your throat. “What? What did I do!?”

As he ran his thumb along your bottom lip, pressing heavily into it, Jimmy let out a chuckle. “Comin’ to the ticket booth with a popsicle in your mouth and nothin’ to catch the runoff. It’s the middle of summer… it’s hotter than a June bride in a feather bed. That thing was meltin’ all over you.”

“It’s hot…. You said it yourself. Can’t a lady enjoy a cool treat in the summertime?.”

He nodded slowly, sliding his thumb past your teeth and onto your tongue. “Sure, sure.”

Jimmy was a bright man, he knew as well you did that had been planned. He didn’t seem to mind, though. You closed your lips around his digit, sucking gently as you unbuckled his belt, sliding the strip of leather carefully through the loops. Now undone, the two triangles of fabric fell apart, revealing white cotton, which did little to hide the outline of his quickly hardening cock. You hummed in pleasure, reaching forward to stroke it. Jimmy bucked his hips into your hand, demanding more pressure.

The growing wet spot in the fabric delighted you, and you grazed your thumb over it repeatedly, pulling a melody of hisses and muffled moans from him. You looked up. His head was leaned against the tent, droplets of sweat descending from his hairline, ribboning their way down his neck.

You took hold of the elastic and yanked it down to free his cock. The veins were full, the tip flushed and wet. For once, you felt what it was to be wanted, to be craved. His arousal was in your hands… literally.

Making sure his briefs didn’t slide back up, you kept hold of them and gripped him with your right hand, smearing the pre-cum into your palm. Your hand slid up and down, slowly at first, before you opened your mouth, and took him in. 

Almost immediately, you felt his body tense up. His conjoined fingers curved around the back of your head, holding you tight to where you were. His lips parted, allowing a groan to vibrate his throat. “Oh my god, Y/N….”

You bobbed your head back and forth, pressing your tongue along his shaft as it slid in and out. His breaths quickened and deepened.

“Jimmy?! Jimmy, is that you?”

Gripping the base tightly, you pulled his cock from your lips, a string of pre-cum and saliva stretching out before it snapped against your chin. Taking care to remain silent, you swallowed down the sticky accumulation in your throat, then inhaled a quiet breath.

“Bette?” He exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut. The way his chest heaved, you could tell he was doing everything he could to keep his breathing steady. “Yeah! I’m just lookin’ for somethin’! I gotta fix somethin’ on my bike!”

“We can help you look! Can’t we, Dot?” Bette cooed, her sing-song voice begging more than asking.

“I’d rather not. His eyes work just fine…” Dot bit back.

“No! It’s alright, it’s uh… it’s a mess back here, I don’t want you beautiful girls hurtin' yourselves!”

You peered up at Jimmy with a smirk crossing your lips. The only sound was that of the muggy breeze as it rustled through the grass, but eventually, you heard the softer voice mutter words of defeat as the sound faded away.

You took Jimmy back into your mouth, sucking hungrily. Although the heavy hand of arousal was making it hard to think, you worked harder to commit all the details of this sensation to memory. You’d remind yourself of the pliable warmth of his skin and his tip, paired with the swollen density of his shaft, and while your husband let out ugly, piggish grunts, you’d remember the way Jimmy Darling moaned your name and exhaled the most erotic breaths you’d ever heard.

His hand made a fist in your hair as his hips started bucking speedily into you. You relaxed your throat, letting him hit the back of it as he saw fit. A hot viscid liquid filled your mouth in spurts, coating your throat as it slid down. Jimmy pumped every last bit, murmuring, and whispering broken praises as you swallowed. 

Carefully, you pulled him from your mouth and ran your ring finger up your chin, collecting a droplet. Jimmy finally returned from whatever nirvana you’d sent him to, and stuffed his spent erection back into his pants, before huffing out a satisfied breath. You watched, enchanted, as his fingers worked as well as they would if they were normal.

“You’re curious, aren’t you?” He asked suggestively, holding his hand up between your bodies. He brought the thick segments together in a pinching motion, watching as your eyes danced over every inch. “C’mooon… you wanna’ know what these fingers feel like. The way you’re lookin’ at ‘em…”

“Maybe next time, Jimmy Darling. Maybe next time.”