#bob odenkirk fic

[danoberry]

★ object of your affection (hank devereaux x reader) SMUT 18+

description: after many “private” sessions with your professor, you finally get what you’ve been wanting.

content: SMUT 18+!!!, age gap (reader is in her 20s), use of the word “kiddo” a lot, kinda cum play, teasing, more stuff but it’s unimportant and it’s 12:30am

pronouns: you/yours (female reader)

wc: 2.7k

afab genitalia

AN:

hi guys! i’m really back! new content, woo! when i fade out of my interests, there’s a gap of time where i really have no interests. after i stopped being OBSESSED with paul dano, i finished breaking bad and watched better call saul, which, of course, sparked a huge interest and an infatuation with bob odenkirk. with that being said, here is the new fic. i hope everyone, even my religiously devoted dano fans, enjoy!

The sound of your foot against the floor tip-tapped with the cadence of a song running through your mind. You stood at Professor Devereaux’s door, waiting for the one-on-one session that you had asked him for, for the fourth week in a row. After his outburst in class, you had noticed he had been more stressed than ever before. You wouldn’t have cared as much if you didn’t have such a good bond with him, but with your similar humor (and consistent effort) you both got along very well. It was never your intention to become so close to your much older professor, but lack of friends and need for validation led you to this friendship.

Professor Devereaux was an ethical man. So you thought, at least until the outburst. For what it was worth, you agreed with what he was preaching. The college he taught at, the one you went to, was mediocrity’s capital. There was nothing special about it. What he said was right. The idiotic kid who kept dragging on the situation knew nothing about the man you knew. Someone practical. Someone witty. Someone caring. So as you stood there tapping your feet, you thought about how off-topic this one-on-one session with your professor could get. Or on the contrary, how off-topic you could make it. 

“Hey, Y/N,” you heard a voice say as you looked up from your feet. 

“Hey, Professor,” you replied, getting out of the doorway and watching as Prof. Devereaux grabbed the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. 

“Listen, kid, I’m super sleep deprived. I’ll look at your paper to the best of my ability, but I can’t promise world class advice.” 

“That’s okay. I kinda just wanted to eat somewhere besides the cafeteria.” 

He replied sarcastically, “Go right ahead, I’ll sit and watch you.” 

He sat in his chair across from you as you grabbed the salad from your bag. You pulled up your paper on your laptop, beginning to eat. 

“Jeez, you're making me hungry now,” he said, laughing and looking at his computer. 

“Yeah, well, I’d offer you some but I don’t want any cross-contamination going on.” 

“I’ll live. I think I have a vanilla Coke in the fridge out there. Be right back,” he opened the door, “before I die of hunger!” 

You ate your salad as you waited for him to get back, aimlessly scrolling on Pinterest. When he did come back, he carried two cans of Coke in his hands, one for him, and one for you. 

“See, I’m not as selfish as everyone is saying,” he said. 

“Definitely not. Thanks, Professor.” 

He sat down and leaned against the desk. “You gonna show me your paper?”  

“Oh yeah, here.” You flipped the screen and showed him what you were working on, and he invited you to sit on the other side of the desk with him, pointing out details that you didn’t need or needed to add. You took a sip of your Coke and grabbed a mint from across the desk after you were done with the salad. Slowly, you unconsciously started to scoot closer to him, closing the gap between your bodies substantially. You looked up at his gaze upon your screen, studying his facial features. You studied his hair and his beard and its color. You watched his eyes flick from each side of the screen as he read. Right then and there, you reached a breaking point. God, you couldn’t bear looking at such a handsome face and not being able to mess with it. He was so successful and attractive and intelligent. You wanted him to ruin you. 

You leaned closer to him, pretending to read your paper again. Slowly, you began to rub his shoulder as he read. He didn’t tense up or ask for you to stop, responses you could have received. Instead, he kept as he was. 

“What’re you doing?” He asked absentmindedly.

“I don’t know. I’ll stop-“ 

“No, it’s fine. I was just wondering if you could get the other shoulder.” 

You paused for a moment. 

“Uh, yes sir.”

“Don’t feel obligated. You just do it very well.” 

You blushed hard. “Thank you,” you nearly whispered. 

“Thank you. Could you get the blinds too?” 

You nodded your head while you got up, letting your hand linger on his shoulder until you couldn’t touch him anymore. As you shut the blinds, your professor looked over at you, tracking your body with his eyes. When you walked back over to him, you massaged his shoulders as he finished his reading and revising. You leaned closer to his head and watched your screen that he had control over. 

“There you are,” he said, taking his hands off of your keyboard, lifting one to rub your fingers that were resting on his shoulder. “Sit down, let me talk to you for a moment.” 

You let go of his shoulders and sat down next to him. “You’re one of my most promising students,” he started. “You’re not like these… ignoramuses I deal with every day…”

“Thank you, professor,” you said, nervous from the intimacy of the conversation. He leaned back and smiled. 

“I think we can get rid of the formalities now, don’t you think…? You can call me Hank when we’re alone.” 

You nodded your head, still blushing and timid from the conversation. 

“You don’t have to act so shy,” he teased. “I know what you’re trying to do. To be frank, it’s working… if that gives you any validation. You want one-on-one ‘lessons’ with me after class almost every week, and all we do is sit and talk. I’ve caught on. Scooting close to me while I read your essays, which I know you write just so we can have these ‘lessons.’ I know you want to mess with me. You’ve got me right where you want me.” 

You sat there in awe, the numbness in your thighs dialing down as you got more comfortable with the fact that he knew you were attracted to him. Hank leaned closer to you, and instead of letting him take initiative, you leaned into him and met his lips between his beard. He tasted the mint flavor on your tongue. 

“What was that about ‘cross contamination?’ Wintergreen, huh? How’d you know that was my favorite?” 

“Lucky guess.”

You kissed him again and felt the softness of his beard against your skin. It was a new feeling, something you had never experienced. You had only been with men your age. You melted in the thought; you were able to kiss such an experienced man, one who even knew how to speak to you so sweetly. You swooned over Hank’s quiet groans, ones he made when he was out of breath. Inching closer to the man, touring your hand up his knee and onto his thigh, he whispered to you, “Right here,” having you straddle his lap over the seat. He told you ‘atta girl’ when you adjusted your hips on top of him. 

“Jesus Christ, kiddo. I don’t know how you expect me to last long if I’m getting this undone from just touching you.”

“Who knows, maybe I could teach an old dog new tricks today,” you laughed. Hank kissed your neck, tickling you and making you giggle even more. 

“Who are you calling old?” 

“More like… mature,” you said, still giggling from the ticklish neck kisses. 

“Mature, huh? I guess you wanna know how someone so mature can make you feel then?” 

“I think I’d like that very much.” 

Hank took hold of your pants’ button and unclasped it, afterwards unzipping your zipper. You stood up quickly to kick them off, displaying a perfect pair of lace panties you had worn every single time you had a “session” with him. Hank unbuckled his belt, dropping it to the floor, and he undid his button and zipper. 

“I bet you wore those underwear just for me, didn’t you? How dirty.” 

“But you like them, right?” You asked jokingly, turning around squeezing your ass in your hands. You straddled Hank again and kissed him. “Talk about dirty, you’re about to have sex with one of your students in your office.” 

“Trust me,” he said, “if I could take you home with me right now, I would.” 

“And what would you do with me if you did?” You asked him, grinding a bit harder against his crotch than you were before.

“A lot more than what we can do right now.” 

“Why don’t you give it your all, then?”

“Pshh, ‘give it my all.’ You’re really asking for it, huh?” 

“Hank, I’m on my knees.”

You kissed him again and rubbed against his crotch, making sure he could feel the wetness seeping through your panties. Hank hummed when he felt you graze his cock. You stood up and watched as he pulled down his underwear and unbuttoned his shirt. Seeing his cock lay so perfectly against his stomach made your legs weak, and you swore you could feel yourself salivating. You bent down over his cock and watched as pre-cum leaked in little beads from his tip. You kissed the tip of his length, giving it kitten licks. You could see the twitch of his cock just from teasing him.

“God- ah- fuck, kid. Get on top of me.” 

With zero hesitation, you climbed back onto his lap and moved your panties to the side, giving Hank kisses on his lips and grinding against his cock, waiting for a moment before taking him all. You stood up and positioned yourself over his cock, sitting back down with an exasperated shudder, moaning into his neck. Hank expelled a large breath against your skin, feeling your pussy wrap around him so perfectly. 

“Ah- wow, you feel good.” 

“Who, me?” You sarcastically remarked, panting. 

Hank squeezed your ass and moved it up and down on his cock. “Don’t get all smart-elicy on me now. We both know where you get it from.” 

He breathed between his teeth, almost audibly whining, when you deliberately clenched around his cock.

“If you mean myself, then you’d be correct.” 

Hank pounded into you harder than before, shocking you from the abrupt change in pace. You worried to whine as quietly as you could into his shoulder. “Smart brats make good dumb bunnies, kiddo.” 

“I- ah- oh, fuck!” You moaned as quietly as you could in his ear. 

“Hmph, yeah, see what I mean?” 

He groaned with hot breaths against your skin, making you clench harder around his cock again. You drooled against his shoulder and whined, nearly incomprehensible.

“Ah- hng- I- feels so- good!” 

“You- fuck- like that?”

“Mhm..!”

Through his groans, Hank teased you again, “Hmm, I think you could have it a little more rough.” 

You moaned into his neck, drooling as he pounded his cock into you, stretching your hole. Whatever response you could have given, you couldn’t. He stopped pounding into you for a moment and tucked your hair out of your pretty face to look at you, holding your hand and rubbing his calloused fingers over yours. 

“You wanna bend over for me, kiddo?” 

You mewled and kissed his lips, nodding, despite how tired and sore you were. You got off of his lap, feeling cold and empty from the lack of friction. Wetness seeped around your pussy and around your thighs as you spread your legs and bent down over his desk. 

“I’m teasing you, but you really are doing so well for me,” he said, bending over and kissing your cheek. “Don’t lay your head like that. Here, sweetheart.” He put his hand on the left side of your cheek, creating a barrier between your head and the hard desk. Hank massaged your ass with his other hand, before shoving his wet cock back into you, making you moan at the feeling. 

Hank tried keeping the noises at a minimum, yet still trying to pound into you and hit the spots that made you arch farther up his stomach. You could tell he was close to cumming, but God, you didn’t want it to end. With every thrust, you could feel him becoming more tense, groaning, letting out hot breaths. His thrusts were becoming sloppier and quicker. 

“Where- oh fuck- where do you want- ah- it?” 

“Cum in me, please! Please, please please!” 

 Hank grunted as quietly as he could, almost moaning, when you felt his cock twitch inside you. Cum spurted over your walls, making your pussy clench around him. You felt bad about not being able to cum as he pulled out of you, kissing your shoulder. 

“Hank,” you said quietly as you turned around and played with your clit.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He replied in his chair, out of breath.

“I couldn’t cum,” you practically mumbled. 

“Poor thing,” he said, sitting up and kissing your face. “I’ll fix it, don’t worry.”

You played with your clit softly when he sat back down in his chair, scooting towards your pussy and spreading your legs. You watched Hank as his head moved down to your crotch, and he collected the cum that was seeping out of your hole on his fingers and raised them to your mouth. You sucked them gently, before he brought his hand back down to your hole and began fucking you with his fingers and flicking his tongue over your clit. You whined out and tried squeezing your thighs, but to no avail, because he was already using his free hand to hold your legs down. You heard the wet noises that he made as he sucked on your puffy clit, making the knot in your stomach tighten. 

“Ah- oh, fuck! Ah, hngg, Hank!” You moaned as you tried to bite your lip. You could feel his smile curl against your pussy, and you held your orgasm for as long as you could, trying to relax your muscles. Only a few seconds after, however, did you let go, pulsating and cumming all around his calloused fingers. Hank licked the mixture of his cum and yours from your hole, kissing you. 

You, sweaty and nearly incoherent from being fucked dumb, mustered up a, “You’re kissing me with cum in your mouth, but I’m the dirty one.” 

Hank laughed at your ability to joke, even though you were so tired and cum-drunk. “You got me there,” he said, kissing you again. You sat there, batting your eyes as you looked up and his foggy glasses. 

“Thank you,” you said, quietly. 

“Of course, kiddo. Thank you. You’re the best I’ve had in years.” 

You smiled. “Really?” 

“Well maybe not the best behaved, but…”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. Hank grabbed a few tissues from his closet, along with a blanket that he gave you once you hopped down from his desk. He wiped your legs off and around the base of his cock, getting himself ready for his class. 

“Don’t come to class today. Take a nap, I know you need it,” he said, putting his chair back. He kissed you when you sat down, and put his pants on after buttoning his shirt.

“I gotta get to my lecture and get this mess off in the restroom. Lock the door behind me, I’ll tell you when I’m back.” 

“Okay,” you said.

“You’re a good girl, you know that?” 

“I guess I do now,” you said, with a smirk on your face. Hank shook his head with a smile and kissed you again, before straightening himself out and walking out the door, shutting it behind him. He opened it back up and peeked in for just a second. 

“Same time next week?” He whispered. 

“Sooner.”

“You got it.” 

[quin-ns]

Taking Care (Saul Goodman x Reader)

Word count: 2K

Summary: after jesse beats up saul you help fix him up

Tags: brba ep. 5x11, canon violence, canon behavior, blood mention, hurt/comfort kinda, hurt!saul, saul being a bit sleazy but it’s goofy it’s fine, fluff, flirting, humor/comedy, very light hearted despite the episode, kissing, happy end :)

A/N: finished breaking bad and couldn’t get this episode out of my brain. im a saul simp now and even tho he lowkey deserved it i didn’t like seeing him get beat up. my self indulgent fix it- idk how big the fandom for saul fics is so I’ll just have to see lol

Misc masterlist + main masterlist

As you headed into Saul’s office from the waiting room, you heard a commotion. Saul was screaming at someone. The door had been kicked in. You’d seen some pretty crazy things happen here, but you were in no way expecting to find Jesse being the cause of the chaos.

“Jesse! Stop!” you shouted, gaining the young man’s attention. He was standing over Saul—who was on the ground, hands raised in defense—with a gun pointed on the man.

Jesse stared at you in surprise, obviously not anticipating your arrival. His jaw tightened and he looked guilty. You were one of the only people left whose opinion of him actually mattered to Jesse. The two of you were friends; you could only hope he’d listen to you.

“Oh Y/N, thank god,” Saul said in relief when he spotted you in the room. “Call the police!”

You weren’t sure if he was serious or not—Saul never wanted police at his office—but it must’ve been bad if he was even willing to mention calling help.

“No need,” Jesse decided. He dug into Saul’s pocket and grabbed something out. Sounded like keys. “We’re done here,” he told you calmly. Huell, Saul’s massive bodyguard, tried to block the door. “Back up!” Jesse yelled, pointing the gun at him. You weren’t in the line of fire and you really hoped Jesse wouldn’t shoot you, but you stumbled back further away from him. Huell moved too and let Jesse out the door.

Huell ran over to Saul and tried to help him up. “Get off me! What do I pay you for?” Saul yelled at Huell and grabbed his phone. He frantically called someone and said, “hey, it’s me. We got a big problem.”

Huell ran off out the door and you turned to go after Jesse too. As much as he was deranged in the moment, you tried to convince yourself maybe you could help, but Saul interrupted your contemplation after making his call that you didn’t pay attention too.

“Leave him,” Saul coughed out. “He has a gun and is clearly not afraid to wave it around.” You looked back at him and became aware of the damage Jesse had done.

“Oh, you idiot,” you muttered, approaching Saul where he had slumped back to the ground. It was only the two of you in the office now. “What did you do?”

He let out a dramatic scoff. “Me?” Saul asked, offended, as you crouched down next to him. “I get assaulted and I’m somehow at fault?”

You took his bloody face in your hands and inspected the injuries. “Jesse wouldn’t beat you up for no reason.”

A guilty look crossed his face as your hands fell. “I’ll tell you about it later,” he grumbled reluctantly, sitting up straight. You weren’t sure if he ever would. “Can you help me out first, maybe?” Saul gestured to his face.

“Yeah,” you replied curtly, standing. You kept a first aid kit in your car. You were in a similar line of business to Mike and through him you met Saul (and Jesse, Walter, and Gus). Although, the only ones you became friends with were Jesse and Saul.

Your friendship with Saul was a little more… well, more complex. You had a good rapport with him and often bantered back and forth, flirting and what not.

You stopped by his office more than you probably should’ve and he was always pleased to see you appear. That’s how you thought today would go when you came by to visit. You had a couple minutes to spare so you figured you’d swing by for a few. He joked more than once that you could take up all his time in a day and he wouldn’t charge you a dime.

You went out and grabbed the kit from under your seat as quickly as you could. It was something you kept on hand given your past experiences in your occupation. And right now, it was about to come in handy.

Saul was standing when you walked in, looking around the room at the mess. His expression was defeated, which was only amplified by the cuts, bruises, and most of all the bloody nose.

“God, he did a number on you,” you commented, unable to hold back. You actually felt bad for him even though you weren’t sure whose fault it was—it looked like it hurt.

“I’m aware,” he replied, disgruntled, and dropped down into his chair.

You rounded the desk to his side with the kit and set it on the surface of it. You began to unpack the kit and set aside the things you needed. Saul watched you—your back was to him but you could feel his eyes on you.

The first thing you did was check his nose to make sure it wasn’t broken. Good news, it wasn’t. Just really, really bloody. And there was a cut on the bridge. You grabbed a packet of wipes and started to get to work.

You focused on wiping the blood away, but you noticed Saul’s eyes scanning your face. He was watching you almost transfixed. He had been quiet for a few seconds, which was longer than usual for him.

“If I knew I could get you this close I would’ve gotten my ass kicked sooner,” he finally spoke up in that sleazy manor you were so used to.

You scoffed out a laugh. “At least you’re not trying to say you won that.”

Blood was still dripping from his nose, layering onto what was already present, so you took care of that first. You cleaned it from his face which he groaned and whined about, but you wouldn’t have expected anything less.

“Don’t be such a baby,” you muttered.

You finished up with that and his nose finally stopped leaking fresh blood. It was a start, right? You threw bloody wipes away in a little desk side trash can and moved on.

You leaned in a little, glancing over the injuries. You dabbed at the cut on the bridge of his nose with one of those tiny square alcohol wipes.

Saul winced but recovered quickly.

“Are you gonna kiss it and make it better?” he teased while you rolled your eyes and reached for a band aid. “If so I think I might have a scratch on my lip.” You raised your brows with a look that said a sarcastic ‘really?’ “What? I—I thought it was a legitimate healing method.” The lie rolled so easily off his tongue you might’ve believed he believed it. Part of being a lawyer you assumed.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if I did,” you said offhandedly (baiting him), unwrapping the bandaid and placing it on the bridge of his nose.

“What?” Saul sounded incredibly offended. “I so would,” he argued.

Before he could get another word in, you grasped his face in each of your hands and leaned down to capture his lips. Saul, as expected, was stunned. You pulled back with a light laugh while he stared at you dumbfounded.

“See?” you said with sass and a smile. “Now can I finish?”

Saul nodded, speechless for the first time in… well, as long as you’d known him.

Now that his nose was taken care of, which is where the brunt of the damage was, you could focus on the more minor things. Like the eye that was probably going to be a tad swollen and the cut on his forehead.

“You’re taking such good care of me,” he mused. “I’m starting to think you like me.”

“Maybe I do,” you replied smoothly, not missing a beat as you worked.

“I want a do-over,” Saul announced, referring to the kiss where you’d very effectively proved your point.

You ignored him, except for biting back a small smile to yourself. “I can’t do anything about the eye and the cut on your forehead is so small it probably doesn’t need a bandaid. Unless you want one.”

“It’s fine,” Saul dismissed.

“Alright then,” you stepped back to look over him one more time. “You’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” he told you, but was already distracted by prodding at the bandaid.

“I only had a few minutes so I gotta head out now,” you told him as you packed up the first aid kit.

You closed it and grabbed it, then headed for the doorway. Saul realized you were leaving and furrowed his brows, trying to find something to say. You only made it about halfway before—

“Wait! A date!” Saul scrambled to stand, but recovered and tried to act casual. “A date. We should go on one,” he suggested. “Like, for real.”

There it was. Something you’d been waiting for for a while. You knew he had a thing for you beyond just provocative comments and flirting, it was obvious, but he never actually asked you out. So you didn’t plan on taking him up on any of his offers until he was serious. It took a while, but that moment finally came.

If you were mean, you would’ve said the punch knocked some sense into him.

“Sure,” you replied after a beat.

“Really?” He sounded surprised. “I mean, really?” he repeated, much more collected. “That’s great. Okay. So uh, how about dinner this Friday?”

“You sure you don’t have… other stuff going on?” you asked vaguely, but he knew exactly what you were referring to.

Saul flashed you that charming grin of his. “For you? I have all the time in the world.”

You couldn’t help but smile and let out a laugh at that. Sure he could be coquettish but you genuinely did enjoy his presence. Besides, it suited him. You couldn’t imagine Saul being a perfect, boring gentleman. The flirting was like a game with him and you liked to play just as much as he did.

“Do me a favor, though—”

“Anything,” he responded a little too quickly.

“—try and keep that handsome face intact, alright? No more bloody noses,” you requested with a sarcastic tone (though you did mean it). “If you and I go out I don’t want people thinking I beat you.”

Saul chuckled at your joke. “I’d let you,” he said lasciviously. Despite the wicked glint you were pretty sure he was joking. Although with Saul you could never be too sure.

You scoffed, but with a sense of humor. “I don’t think that’s the compliment you think it is.”

“Whatever,” he said with a shrug. Saul strolled towards you, going overboard with how leisurely he tried to be. You laughed to yourself when he stopped in front of you. The sound made him crack a smile of his own.

“Can I get my do-over?” Saul implored.

“Hmm,” you hummed. “No,” you said unseriously. You laughed at your own joke and Saul sensed your tone.

“You sure?” Saul placed a hand on your waist and decreased the distance. His other hand rose to your cheek. You looked into those soft blue eyes of his.

“Maybe not,” you sighed out as he was already closing the gap between your lips.

Saul initiated and you gladly reciprocated. This kiss, unlike before, was expected. And not to prove a point. You weren’t sure what you thought kissing him would be like, but it was nice. Good. He had you practically swooning by the time the two of you separated.

“I gotta go, but um,” you said softly, eyes lingering on his lips. “I’ll see you Friday?” You flicked your eyes up to meet his.

“How about seven? I’ll pick you up,” Saul offered with a lopsided smile.

You clicked your tongue. “But your car is so tacky,” you teased.

“Hey! My car is awesome,” he defended. “You’ll look great in the passenger side.” Saul patted your hip (nearly your ass) and shot you a wink.

“You better make this date worth my while.” You poked him in the chest, all teasing and accusing like, and stepped back. You turned on your heal and headed out of the office.

"I wouldn't dream of anything less!" Saul called after you. You could hear the smile on his face and for the rest of the day, nothing could get rid of the one on yours.

[thekimspoblog]

They spoon like they're in a magazine and the fans go wild.

[talaok]

Since all the nominations for Emmys, I need one fic where reader is either video calling or with Pedro when nominations are announced. Somethig fluffy and full of emotions cuz Pedro deserves all of this 😊

a/n: this ask skipped the line just cause I felt that if I posted this next week it wouldn't have made as much sense, so yeah here it is (also, I’m so happy for him and Bella, like omg man)

Today was the day.

Pedro was never usually one to care about this stuff, yes he was grateful, and yes he was happy, but no other time had he felt this electricity in the air, this buzz telling him that something was about to happen... something good of course.

He had set up his tablet on the coffee table in front of the couch, waiting for the announcement to start, but he hadn't even managed to sit- he was too nervous, too excited.

A ringing sounded through the room all of a sudden, and after an initial scare, he smiled, glad you finally could call him.

You were on set. In Vancouver. A thousand miles from him.

"Is it on yet?"

Your eagerness spurt through the screen.

And he thought he was exited

"nope"

"what? How much longer?"

He glanced at the screen, feeling a tiny goosebump traveling up his back at the countdown.

"two minutes"

"Oh my god!" You squeaked, smiling so wide your cheeks almost hurt "how are you feeling?"

"nervous" he chuckled drily

"Oh c'mon, what about? We both know you're gonna crush it"

"I hope so" he sighed "God I don't know why I care so much" he laughed "The only important thing is that Bella and the show get nominated"

"And you, of course" you chirped in

He tried to fight a smile, but it still pulled at his lips "Well if there's room..."

"There you are" you nodded, your smile fading ever so little after a brief moment "god I wish I could be there"

"Me too" he agreed "but at least w-" a noise in the direction of the coffee table caught his attention

"Oh shit, it's starting"

"shit, go go go go" you mumbled, feeling all too powerless in your position.

He sat down in front of the screen as the announcers appeared on it.

"what are they saying?"

"uh- just their names and stuff"

"ok-"

A moment passed 

"what about now?"

He laughed, ever so thankful for your presence "Still that, sweetheart"

"fine, just- tell me when they start telling the categories"

"ok ok here we go" 

"what is it?"

"talk series"

"Bo-ring" you huffed, making him chuckle "I want the good stuff"

"they're doing reality programs now"

"oh my god! it's like they want to torture us"

...

"Oh shit" 

A pit created itself in Pedro's stomach

"what?"

"lead actor in a drama series"

"oh my god" you screeched, doing a poor job of trying not to freak out "C'mon baby I know believe in you"

"jeff bridges... Brian cox... Kieran Culkin... Bob Odenkirk..."

come on come on come on

His mouth widened as he let out an incredulous breath.

"baby?" you called, already knowing but wanting a confirmation "baby pl-"

"I got nominated"

"I told you!" You basically screamed, jumping out of your chair "I told you, baby! I'm so happy for you! You deserve all of it babe, all. of. it." 

"I can't believe this" he smiled, his eyes glimmering with that spark in his eyes he only got whenever he was truly happy "This is crazy"

"Well believe it baby, you're an Emmy nominee"

"I just-" he interrupted himself as the next category was announced "shit it's best actresses"

You nodded, trying to cool down while really just mindlessly pacing around your trailer 

"Bella Ramsey!" he laughed "Bella Ramsey! They did it! I knew they fucking would"

"oh my god!" you grinned "What a power couple"

"I know right?" he chuckled "I'll have to call them I-" and once again, the announcers interrupted his train of thought.

His gaze moved from you to the tablet again.

"best drama series?"

He only nodded, clearly all the anxiety coming back.

"Andor... Better call Saul... the crown... House of the Dragon..."

he fell silent as his eyes came back to you, and this time... this time they shined with tears of joy.

"yeah?" you asked, feeling your heart beating out of your chest.

"yeah," nodded.

You felt your heart and chest and body fill with pure joy as you let some tears fall from your eyes.

"you did it baby" you sniffled "I knew you would. You deserve it, all of it" you smiled, wishing with all your heart you were there to hug him and kiss him and whisper in his ear

"How are you feeling?"

He laughed "I don't even know, I just- I think I need time to process this" he smiled, his hands slightly shaking "A-Are you ready to go to the Emmys?"

"are you?" You laughed, quite literally quivering from the excitement

"As ready as I'll ever be"

[lavirgenc1ta]

can one of you fanfic writers write a bob odenkirk fic PLEASEEEEE!!!!!!!

[cockadilf]

Breaking Bad is truly a wild show to me. Not because it’s crazy or anything like that, but because it’s genuinely one of the best shows I’ve ever seen. I was not expecting that. I thought it was overhyped. I was ready to write it off as only okay. Driven by memes. But no. It’s actually so so good. It’s actually, like, a masterpiece of television. Better Call Saul is even better. It deserves a million Emmy’s. Bob Odenkirk is a phenomenal actor. So is Bryan Cranston, like WOW. So is Giancarlo Esposito, who should go down in history as one of the great actors of our time. All these guys should, actually. I also just love Aaron Paul as Jesse. Jesse is my favorite in the show. He deserves the world, and his story is legitimately heartbreaking. I’m not done with the show but oh man.

Everything about this show is so good. And that’s wild to me, because I wasn’t at all expecting it. This show deserves all the praise it’s ever gotten and more. It deserves a fandom that takes its material seriously, not just as meme fodder or joke fics but as something to study and emulate. Legitimately if you are like me, if you never gave Breaking Bad a chance and wrote it off as the aha funny meme show about drugs, go watch it. Watch it now. Do yourself a favor. Watch Breaking Bad, watch Better Call Saul, watch all the content you can because oh my gosh it’s so good.

Sorry I’m ranting but I feel like no one believes me when I say this to them… they all roll their eyes… Breaking Bad? It has to be overrated. I promise it’s not.

Maybe it’s just the people I hang out with who don’t respect it as a show but ugh I just need to get my feelings out without someone going “aha Jesse we need to cook”

Even though the memes are funny. I do enjoy the memes. In fact they’re even better with context.

Go watch the show now please

[thekimspoblog]

Responding to a comment on my latest drabble.

Here is an abridged version of the timeline:

Seasons 1-5 and the first couple episodes of Season 6 happened. Then on June 10, 2004, Kim had an extremely vivid dream (quite uncharacteristic of her) loosely based on this short film: https://youtu.be/8v87Pqi3gCc?si=yNHge91wQ_0SbilX That was my "Sheepdog" fetish fic. The test came back negative, but it did get Kim thinking; re-evaluating what she wanted. Then Howard was murdered, and the pregnancy scare was just one more reason this situation suddenly seemed so unsalvageable. Then Breaking Bad happened. Then in 2010, the final events of "Saul Gone" occurred. And frankly none of what Saul did even mattered; whether it was ethical, whether it was respectful of the justice system. Because all the while Kim was having a more abstract struggle, with God, time, and the narrators. She might not remember everything that happened in the dream, but she still wakes up with a splinter in her brain, a feeling like another reality is knocking at the door. Between 2010 and 2016, they were both lying low. Both on their best behavior. But as Jerry Seinfeld famously said, "Never bet against the backslide". Because Glenn is fucking useless, and CFLA may be a worthy cause, but it brings with it the same frustrations that trying to defend the disenfranchised from a fundamentally corrupt system always have.

Finally, starting in 2016 we get my magnum opus (which I haven't written yet): An eight episode sequel fic: "Slippin' Kimmy Season 1". I won't give it all away, but it starts with Kim promising she's figured out how to get Jimmy out on parole, and ends with them as the de facto leaders of a Unitarian church. And somewhere in between all those events, is a moment where Kim is given the chance to bury the hatchet with her mother. The story I want to tell is mostly focused on themes of faith, magic, and political radicalization, specifically from a feminist perspective in a country that is increasingly hostile to women. I want to borrow a lot from the aesthetic of horror classics from the 70's.

"August 2017" is a short fic, set after the events of Season 1. That one was mostly more domestic fluff and pregnancy fetishism, with only minor angst about waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I don't have Season 2 mapped out as much, and this snippit is set sometime during that, so that's why it's so vague. But we know Kim's portrayal as an action hero is going to continue to escalate. And Bob Odenkirk is clearly getting sick of playing this character and wants to be written out permanently, so by Season 2 I'm happy to oblige... but we know Iris is going to blame Kim for whatever happens.

We skip around a lot in the timeline. We see Iris as an adult, trying to continue to survive and fight the good fight in the post-climate change/post-American fascism world they've inherited. We see how their bond with their sister is the only real relationship they have. And ultimately, I'm hoping things will come full circle: there's this idea I keep toying with that thematically, Iris is still carrying around a fragment of Howard's soul. And if Iris really wants to be at peace, they're going to have to accept that maybe they can't be the hero their parents had raised them to be.

#overeagerlyexplainingmywholeheadcannontoyou

[peterparkersnose]

Tumblr Wrapped @peterparkersnose

This account was launched January 8th, 2022 (Exactly one year ago) and I just wanted to share some stats because I love statistics and to see progress and growth.

I have 1,803 followers

I have 85 published works

I have 8 different fan groups I wrote for

I have 18 characters I wrote for

Marvel Word Count was 36,982 words

DC Word Count was 8,400 words

Star Wars Word Count was 26,324 words

Stranger Things Word Count was 11,957 words

Top Gun Maverick Word Count was 5,148 words

Klitz (The Girl Next Door) Word Count was 6,500 words

Javier Peña (Narcos) Word Count was 4,500 words

Joel Miller (The Last of Us) Word Count was 1,300 words

101,111 words in total.

Average of 1.1k words per posting.

There are about 70,000 to 120,000 words roughly in any usual book. Landing right in the middle of that statistic warms my heart.

A special thank you to my consistent tag list (love you guys) for their continued support of me over the last year.

{ @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean }

I know I’m not the best writer out there, I’ve read MANY fics this year that beat out mine by a long shot (check some of them out here). Thank you to all my readers, I’m glad you enjoyed my work. To another successful year, hopes for 2023!

I have a ton of Joel Miller fics queued for The Last of Us Show (Airing 1/15 on HBO Max).

My Favorites of the Year

Movie: The Batman (2022)

Album: Harry’s House (Harry Styles)

Dilf: Pedro Pascal

Character to write for: Din Djarin

Fan base (everyone is so lovely, it was so hard to choose): Druig/Eternals/Barry Keoghan

Fan Base to write for: Star Wars

Series I wrote: Pink Bra Strap- Klitz (Paul Dano)

Video Game: The Last of Us 1 (again)

Least Favorite Character I wrote for: Eddie Munson (sorry tik tok ruined it)

Show: Game of Thrones

Favorite Genre: Angst

Least Favorite Genre: Smut (I can enjoy on occasion but I like a good argument vs good sex)

Top Three Stories I Wrote

Secret (Din Djarin)

Body Lightweight (Kylo Ren)

Unreleased Obi Wan fic (sorry not sorry)

Dilf of the Month 2022:

December 2021- Adam Driver

January 2022- Andrew Garfield

February 2022- Barry Keoghan

March 2022- Pedro Pascal

April 2022- Paul Dano

May 2022- Oscar Isaac

June 2022- Eddie Munson/ Joe Quinn

July 2022- Matthew Gray Gubler

August 2022- David Harbor

September 2022- Rooster Top Gun/Miles Teller

October 2022- Evan Peters

Nov 2022- Hayden Christansen

Dec 2022- Ewan McGregor/Obi Wan Kenobi

Jan 2023- Bob Odenkirk/ Saul Goodman

Top Five Era’s of this year

Pedro Pascal Era (March-Now)

Bagel Era 🥯 (March-May)

Miles Teller Era (June-October)

Party Monster The Weeknd Era (October-Now)

Fletcher Meme Era (August-October)

(This is not a brag post in any way shape or form. I am extremely proud of myself. I worked hard for what I have. I have attention issues and I expected to drop this account when I got bored so I’m thrilled I committed to it. I am very appreciative of every single one of you.)

Thank you all.

Love,

@peterparkersnose

[jadedzer0]

Tag 9 people you want to know better!

Thanks to @prommethium for the tag! 🤗

Favourite ship ever: Hualian

Last song: Something on the Destiny soundtrack.

Last movie: Probably Glass Onion near the holidays.

Currently reading:

Osiris lorebook from Destiny 2 Lightfall Collrctor's Edition

A wonderful SVSSS fic by @boomchickfanfiction (the May Trope Maybem one - so good!)

A Crow x Uldren fic that @subtlybrilliant sent me a few weeks ago.

Currently watching: Better Call Saul. I am OBSESSED with hoe scrungly Bob Odenkirk is. 💚

Currently consuming: Nothing! (Just had breakfast)

Currently craving: playing Lightfall 👀

Whoever wants to do this can!

[yeyinde]

just saw the news that bob odenkirk is joining the cast of the bear for the second season and it kinda reminded me to check in and see if there were any updates about your richie jerimovich fic? hope this doesn’t come off as annoying or rushing just genuinely interested in the process of you writing this specific work and would love any little bit of info you feel like sharing even if it’s just ranting about the process being difficult! hope you’re doing well and can’t wait to see what’s next for neon medusa too!

Oh, I'm so excited to see what he does in this new season!!! 🤩

And no worries!! I'm kinda stuck on a few points for Richie because he's not, like, developed in the sense that we know what is going on with his home life. He's divorced but still wears a ring and probs doesn't see his daughter very often, and I'm just sort of agonising over skipping it and leaving it as a vague grey blur you never get to see, or making things up as I go! I just hate missed continuity.

But ahhhh, it's coming along! It was one of the ones shuffled for now until I work out the kinks in the narrative, but I started watching the Bear (again, again, again) to inspire me, so hopefully it'll be finished soon! 🖤

[somebodylovesyougcv]

writing mcwexler fic on the left of my screen watching arrested development on the right. oh hi bob odenkirk

[danoberry]

sorry i haven’t been here in a while, i’ve been doing lots. does anyone like bob odenkirk? i might be switching the fics up a bit…

[cobra-creampuff]

Today, my new thriller short story NOBODY is available for download for my patrons 30 days before it goes live for sale!

Patrons at any tier get 15 to 30 days of early access to EPUB and PDF downloads of my writing before publication. New pledge members are also given access to downloads of previously published work.

Pledge to Calico Jack’s Patreon to download 4 stories, and other rewards!

[the-casbah-way]

starting sobbing hysterically out of nowhere last night whilst reading smut bc i love masculinity so much but i’ll never feel a part of it or enjoy sex til i look and sound how i want but on the bright side the fic was hot <3

[aimz1984]

[quiltedgold]

baby blues - jimmy mcgill

pairing: jimmy mcgill x f!reader

genre: smut. 18+ please

wc: 2.9k

contains: unprotected sex (ALWAYS WRAPPIT BEFORE YA TAPPIT KIDS), age gap (early/mid20s reader), use of pet names “sugar”, “kid”, and “sweetheart”, hint of sub!jimmy if ya squint but both him and reader are switchy tbh, gratuitous eye description because gahdayum bob odenkirk’s eyes are MESMERIZING, ya that’s p much it

notes: back from the dead to share my silly lawyer smutfic with the world. haven’t finished bcs yet, so this takes place early s1! don’t take this too seriously because i didn’t either :) more ppl gotta get crackin on the jimmy fic train tho bc there’s a sad lack of content. anyway enjoy!

The first thing you noticed about Jimmy McGill were his eyes. Entrancingly blue, fringed with dark, delicate lashes. They drooped slightly at the outer corners, giving him that sad-puppy look. Even through the TV screen and newspaper article, his eyes stood out.

His other features weren’t too hard on your eyes either: that cutely crooked mouth that moved a mile a minute when it wasn’t screwed up in thought, a nice strong nose, neat hairstyle with a stubborn cowlick that you noticed him brushing aside out of habit. And of course, the gentle lines of his face, mouth, and under his eyes that only added to the basset-hound look he had going.

You weren’t sure it was him at first–the hero you’d seen on TV, a lawyer who scaled a billboard to rescue a worker in danger. The paper had gotten a kick out of his heroic stunt and you’d seen his face on the front page the very next day. Yet here he was now, across the bar, alone and nursing a drink, and the similarities were undeniable. This definitely was Jimmy McGill.

And gee, was he handsome. Normally you’d end it there; text your friends with an omg you guys guess who i saw at the bar?? and move on, but you already had a few drinks coursing through your system, were a few stale weeks out of a breakup, and ready to try something new.

You grabbed your purse and scooted off the barstool, adjusting your skirt and checking your top before strolling over to where he was sitting.

“Hi, this seat taken?”

Jimmy started upon hearing your voice, shaken out of whatever trance he’d been in, and blinked a few times. Your heart skipped upon having those eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes trained on your own. “Huh? Oh. No, no. Be my guest,” he gestured at the empty seat.

You thanked him and slid on to it, signaling the bartender over.

“I’ll take a martini, please.”

“That can go on my tab–thanks,” Jimmy said to the bartender.

“Oh, thanks! You didn’t have to.” You flashed your most charming smile at him, and he perked up a little. Always worked.

“My pleasure. I gotta say, though, you look a little young to be at a bar.”

You wave his implication away with a roll of your eyes. “I’m legal, I promise. Just young for my age, that’s all.”

“Hm,” he smiled. “Alright, miss…?” You supplied your name in response, and he repeated it. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“You might laugh at me for this, I’m sure you get it all the time…” you tucked a hair behind your ear, glancing at your shoes demurely. “I thought I recognized you from that news story. Jimmy McGill, right?”

Jimmy illuminated. “That’s me, alright! Though I gotta admit, the hero stuff is more of a part-time gig,” he said with a wink. “My day job is law.”

“Law, huh?” You knew this. You’d already looked him up. Still, you pretended to be surprised and a little impressed. “Wow. What would I have to do to get you as my lawyer?”

He chuckled, face a little pink, either from the alcohol he’d already consumed or your shameless flirt. “Just don’t go falling off any billboards.”

“That’s probably a good start,” you said.

Your drink arrived, and then your second and third as the two of you continued your conversation. Jimmy was sweet–a charmer, but you sensed there was a lot that was genuine about the way he listened to you speak and avoided flicking his gaze down to your cleavage, despite how much you wanted him to. As heat collected in your stomach from the alcohol and your growing attraction to him, you stopped listening to the anecdotes he supplied and began paying more attention to his hands, the ring on his pinky, the way he placed one hand on your knee and began rubbing his thumb lightly on your bare skin, how the pads of his fingers were just slightly rough and how nice his touch felt, how his soft blue eyes bored into yours.

Eventually, you reached your limit.

“How would you feel about getting out of here?” you interrupted, voice low and suggestive.

With no hesitation, he replied. “Best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Before you knew it, the two of you tumbled out of a taxi and through the door of Day Spa and Nail (weird place to live, but hey, who were you to judge?). Jimmy locked the door behind the two of you and then stopped rather awkwardly in the lobby, dragged out of his inebriated haze by his surroundings. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the back area and the curtain of fairy lights decorating the door. It was cozy, but he seemed more embarrassed by it than anything.

You sensed this change immediately and approached him to rectify it, backing him slowly against the glass front of the store.

“Do you bring girls here a lot?” you said, one hand toying with the collar of his dress shirt.

“Can’t say that I do,” he chuckled sheepishly. “Couldn’t tell ya why. Maybe it’s the decor.”

“I, for one, like the open floor plan,” you hummed, sliding your hand down to his tie, playing with the tail of it. “Don’t mind the full length window, either.”

Jimmy swallowed. “We can always head to the back, if you want. This is a little public.”

“You know what?” you said, tilting your head. “I kind of like it that way.”

Gripping the knot of Jimmy’s tie, you tugged, leading his face down to your level, and captured his lips in your own. He groaned, melting into the kiss and bringing his own hands up to cradle your head, knotting his fingers in your hair.

The sound sent shivers down your spine and you opened your own mouth a little wider, returning his pleased noises with a few of your own.

Jimmy, without breaking the kiss, spun you so that you were the one backed against the glass. He pressed his body into yours, deepening the kiss and caressing your jaw with deft fingers.

“Shit, kid,” he huffed in between kisses. “Definitely wasn’t expecting this to be how I ended out the night.”

“From the moment I noticed you across the bar, this is how I wanted it to,” you returned lowly, pressing an open-mouthed kiss below his ear.

“Ah, geez,” he said (if you didn’t know any better, you’d say whimpered), breaking away to hold your face in his hands and examine your blown-out eyes. “Look, not like I’m complaining or anything, but why me? Why not someone your own age? I mean, you’re so gorgeous, you could get anyone you wanted, honest.”

“I’ve never much been into guys my age,” you admitted. “Not daddy issues or anything like that, just… older men are more attractive to me, that’s all. And bonus points if they’re famous.”

“Famous,” Jimmy repeated. “Don’t say that, it’ll go straight to my head.”

“Good,” you said, carding a hand through his hair with an experimental tug at the roots. “That’s where I want it to go.”

Jimmy keened, diving back in for another kiss. Meanwhile, you were at the perfect vantage point to observe the salon, and it caused another idea to blossom.

“Any desire for a massage?” you asked, and steered him over to the row of chairs. “We don’t have to pay for these, right?”

“No, no. But why…?” he asked, squinting.

“Sit down. I’ll show you,” you instructed.

He obeyed without further question, loosening his tie and situating himself in one of the plush seats. You grabbed a remote and quickly figured out the controls, setting his chair at a low setting, then set it aside.

He watched you curiously, waiting for your next move. Flicking your eyes towards his crotch, you couldn’t help but notice the tautly stretched fabric. You licked your lips.

As smoothly as possible, you slipped off your shoes and climbed into his lap, straddling his form with one of your legs on either side. You watched his face as you positioned your core right over his crotch, wiggling a little for good measure, and he gasped.

“Ah, shit, kid…” he groaned, hardness pressing up against you. “Sorry, lemme adjust myself–”

You grabbed the hand he’d moved downwards to shift his erection by the wrist and brought it up to your mouth.

Slowly, slowly, you slipped his pointer finger into your mouth, lathing over the callused skin with your tongue and teeth. He moaned at the sensation as you added another finger, then three.

To be frank, his erection’s throbbing presence against your clothed heat was making it near impossible to focus on the task at hand.

You removed his hand from your mouth and pressed yourself against his chest, laying a feather light hand against his jaw and whispering, “I want you to fuck me, Jimmy McGill.”

“Jesus, kid,” he hissed. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

The two of you scrambled to undo his pants and shift his boxers aside to free his dick, your panties not far behind. You didn’t even bother to shuck your skirt off, instead allowing his large hands to shimmy it up to your waist, squeezing at the softness there with a whimper.

“Wait, wait a sec, do you have a…” He palmed his forehead, flushed pink and sweaty.

You hovered over his rock-hard erection, teasing the tip of him at your entrance. “I’m safe. I’d rather you fuck me raw. Is that okay with you?”

“Is that okay? Jesus, what a question. Yes, absolutely, just please, please, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something so badly in my life,” Jimmy begged, hands falling to your thighs and squeezing hard, resisting the urge to buck upwards into you.

You paused a moment before committing, drinking in the sight beneath you. Jimmy McGill, looking positively debauched. Unkempt hair, cheeks the color of cherries, a light sheen of sweat shining in the warm ambient lighting. His eyes were the definition of puppy-dog, the sweetest blue you’d ever seen, swimming with want, eyelashes fanned across his lids as he blinked heavily. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, and almost without thinking, you dipped your fingers inside and trailed them down the light hair on his chest. He sucked in a shuddery breath.

“One more time?” you asked. Jimmy understood.

“Please,” he croaked.

You plunged your hips down, fully sheathing his length within you. The sensation sent sparks across your eyesight and you cried out, squeezing yourself around him. Jimmy reacted in kind, throwing his head back with a whine and jerking his hips upward to attempt to bury himself deeper. The two of you began to search for a rhythm, him canting upward with an arm wrapped firmly around your waist, you grinding in circular downward motions in return.

It didn’t take long to align, the two of you quickly establishing a steady rhythm to follow, listening closely for the other’s pleased moans and adjusting movements to allow for more of them to spill out.

You clutched Jimmy’s arms, his chest, carded your fingers through his hair, splayed your hands on his stomach for balance. He palmed your breasts, your ass, your thighs, each touch sending electricity straight to your core, but his hands always seemed to migrate back to your waist, which he gripped firmly and used to guide your movements, an action you were grateful for somewhere deep in your lust-addled mind.

You also quickly learned that he was a vocal partner, which made sense knowing his personality and profession. He let his mouth run, moaning about how good you were for him, how pretty, how much he needed this. At one point you could have sworn you heard him hiss “That’s my girl,” and you nearly came right then and there.

Soon, his movements began to speed up, thrusts becoming messier, and you knew he was near his peak. Truth be told, you were surprised he’d lasted this long at his age, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

Clutching your flanks, he pushed himself up to press against your chest and you wrapped your arms around him, twisting your fingers into the back of his dress shirt.

“Sweetheart, I’m close,” he huffed. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you answered without hesitation. “Please, please, inside.”

Jimmy choked out a laugh. “Don’t have to convince me, sugar.”

Upon hearing the pet name, you clenched your walls involuntarily and whimpered.

“C’mon, you can’t–can’t do that…” he groaned. “Ya like being called sugar, huh?”

You couldn’t summon up a reply, nearing your own climax.

Jimmy, seeming to sense your proximity, snaked a hand down to your cunt and quickly located your clit, rubbing in small circles with the callused pad of his thumb to match the speed of his thrusts.

His touch sent a jolt up your spine and you squealed, to which he let out a hoarse chuckle in your ear. “Feels good?”

“Fuck, Jimmy, yeah. Please, please, I’m close…”

“Me too, kid. Just… a little… more…”

He increased the intensity of his ministrations on your clit, sending fresh waves of pleasure through your body, sending you soaring over the precipice of an orgasm. Tremors rached your body, radiating outward from the source of your pleasure, where Jimmy was still circling his thumb. You cried out a string of expletives, sagging against him when the pleasure started to seep out of your system.

Jimmy wasn’t far behind. A few more thrusts and he was coming, clutching your waist in a bruising grip as his seed flooded your insides. He released a shuddering breath and let his forehead fall against your shoulder, collapsing back into the still-undulating massage chair. Your ragdoll form fell with him. The two of you caught your breath in silence, listening to the slowing beats from within each other’s chests, slowly descending from your intense highs.

Slowly, you lifted yourself from his hips, his length slipping out of you followed by globules of white, collecting in little puddles on his soft stomach. You stared at his juices for a moment, then experimentally swiped a finger across them and stuck it in your mouth, sucking to evaluate the flavor.

Salty, bitter. Run of the mill. Except, his had a hint of sweetness, an aftertaste that bloomed after a few moments in your mouth. Interesting.

Your gaze raised, and you realized he’d looked up from your shoulder. His eyes were trained firmly on the finger in your mouth, and his pupils were blown as wide as the sun.

“Jesus, where have you been all my life,” he wondered aloud, then screwed his face up in that cute way you’d observed earlier at the bar, his mouth disappearing into a crooked line. “Nevermind. Don’t answer that.”

You giggled tiredly, grabbing a towel from a nearby table to wipe up the cooling cum on his skin, then collected it from your own leaking hole.

He smiled lazily, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. “If I were twenty years younger and in shape, I would suggest we go another round.”

You set the rag aside and pressed a kiss to his lips, sweet and lingering. He leaned into it, corners of his lips turning up against yours.

“I would have to agree,” you said, pulling away and trailing a hand across his jaw. He gazed up at you with those hooded blue eyes, gentle adoration practically radiating. “But I’d like to get cleaned up. I don’t want this salon looking like a crime scene when the ladies come back in tomorrow.”

Jimmy clucked his tongue. “You’re right. Bathroom’s down the hall on the right.”

You reluctantly hauled yourself off his chest and headed to the bathroom, legs sore from the intense upwards-downwards movement you’d sustained for the past fifteen minutes.

When you returned, Jimmy was finished tidying up the salon and waiting awkwardly outside the door to his room slash office. He wiggled a pile of clothes he had clutched in one hand.

“Change of clothes, ah, if you want them. You don’t have to stay, of course, I can call a taxi, or go back to the bar and get my car–”

“I’d like to stay,” you replied, taking the clothes from him with a peck. “Thank you.”

Snug in the law firm t-shirt and worn sweatpants he’d lent you, you watched as he set up his room’s nighttime configuration, tittering in amusement at the soft curses he let out when the futon mattress got stuck on the frame. Once he’d set the bed up, fretting abundantly about which side would be more comfortable and which pillow you might prefer, the two of you crawled in and you slotted yourself against his side, resting a hand on his broad chest.

From this position, you could peer up at him and meet his pretty blue eyes, and he could see you staring.

“See something you like, kid?” he yukked, half asleep.

“Mmhm,” you said. “Your eyes. I’ve been looking at them all night. They’re beautiful.”

Taken aback, Jimmy blushed. “Can’t tell you I’ve heard that before. Maybe it’s why I get all the ladies.”

“It’s how you got this lady,” you teased.

“What, that wasn’t my incessant charm or stunning fashion sense?”

“No, but that might have been a small part. The eyes were most of it,” you said, drawling the ends of your sentences as your brain urged you into drowsiness.

“Hm. Good to know,” Jimmy conceded, and the two of you fell into a sleepy lull.

You heard his heartbeat slow, pumping steadily against his chest, and the sound drifted you safely into contented oblivion.