quiltedgold

[quiltedgold]

reader being saul's temporary secretary or assistant? and he's obviously got the hots for reader, but they tend to zay he's got to try better than that. that changes when he's drunk in his office after a long day, both of them Ray to get home, and when he tells reader to start closing up shop and they tell him yes sir, he calls them a good girl (which he doesn't realize goes straight to their crotch c: )

i went a little taxi gone wild with the drunk thing, hope you don't mind! i am such a sucker for intoxicated hookup fics, literally whenever i'm drunk i'm thinking "man if only saul goodman were here i would hop on him so quick😔" this one also features a cheeky reader who very much knows what they're doing to excite Saul but gets a kick out of denying him lol. thank you very much for the request dear anon, i hope you enjoy <3

Closing Time - Saul Goodman x reader

wc - 1.3k

warnings - smut, sleazeball saul bc duh, they/them prns for reader, fembodied reader, alcohol, boss x secretary

When Francesca took two weeks’ leave on account of her fractured kneecap, Saul worried at the thought of having to find a replacement on such short notice. Then, like an angel sent from heaven, you arrived at the door that very same morning, inquiring about a secretarial position. He hired you on the spot, thanking his lucky stars for small miracles. It didn’t hurt that you were a nice piece of eye candy, absolutely stunning in business casual and sporting a sweet smile and “innocent” look. 

However, Saul quickly realized you weren’t as naive as you looked. One afternoon he dropped a pen in your path, hoping you would bend over to pick it up and put your ass on display for him. Instead, you looked at the pen, then back to Saul with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re going to have to try better than that, Mr. Goodman,” you tittered before striding out of his office. 

He picked up the pen himself, face burning. Rats. Of course you weren’t going to be that easy, he’d been blinded by his first impression of you–the sweet, unassuming young secretary, shocked that an older man would show interest in them. He would just have to go about his pursuit in a different way. 

This didn’t stop him from eyeing you. Some days you showed up in short skirts or especially tight tops, teasing him with peeks of your cleavage or slivers of your smooth upper thigh when you crossed your legs as you took notes during client meetings. 

Whenever he tried anything, no matter how innocuous–inviting you to join him for your lunch break or inviting you back to his place at the day’s end–you responded the same as before: You’ll have to try harder than that, Mr. Goodman. 

And he could tell you were dragging him along, playing with his affections like a cat bats at a ball of yarn–you often bit at the cap of your pen while looking him right in the eye through hooded lids, or stretched your arms when you knew he was watching, buttons pulling taught against your chest. Sometimes you noticed him adjusting his pants after an especially flirtation-packed encounter, which you’d acknowledge with a little giggle and a toss of your hair. 

It drove him crazy. 

After one especially long day filled with interactions with some of his more unpredictable clients, Saul sought refuge in his office and knocked back a few glasses of scotch, relishing the loosening of his tense shoulders. 

“Sweetheart, would you come in here?” he called, tugging at the knot of his tie.

You appeared in the doorway, hands on your hips. It was obvious he’d been drinking, and his lips always got looser under the influence. Not that you minded the nickname, but you could at least put on an air of righteous indignation. “Yes, Mr. Goodman?”

“You can start closing up shop–thanks, darlin’. Good work today.”

“Yes, sir,” you turned to leave, just catching his reply.

“Good girl.” 

It was offhanded, you could tell he wasn’t really thinking about the words he’d just said as he took another noisy sip of his drink.

But you stopped in your tracks. The simple phrase sent a flood of warmth to your core. Had he really not said that to you before? Clearly not, based on your body’s reaction. 

“What are you waiting for? You want a drink or something?” Saul asked jokingly, expecting silence or your usual rebuttal. This was just another one of his propositions.

Yet… 

You turned back around and strode towards his desk. “Yes,” you said decidedly. “I would.”

His eyes widened, but he sat forward and grabbed a glass for you, tipping the decanter. “Lucky me, I get my secretary as a drinking partner. Say when.”

You waited until the glass was three-quarters full. “When.” Then you plucked the glass from the table and downed it, wincing a bit at the malty flavor. Hell, up until now you’d only known the cheap liquor of college parties and family holidays. But, the liquid quickly warmed your stomach, sending a wave of relaxation to the very tips of your extremities. You leaned over the table, waving the empty glass slowly in his direction.

Saul chuckled. “Woah there, champ, no one’s timing you. Here–” he gestured for your glass, which you gave and he filled back up. 

Instead of accepting the offered cup, you strode over to his side of the desk. 

“You know,” you began. “I really shouldn’t be drinking on the job. And especially not with my boss.”

Now closer, you could see his lined face begin to flush. The alcohol’s influence, of course, but also your body’s proximity. Not a coincidence that you’d worn the shortest shirt and tightest shirt that you could get away with today. 

“Believe me, I’m not tattling,” Saul said, putting his hands up in a “you got me” gesture, but his eyes were fixed directly on your chest.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not accusing you of anything,” you hummed, tapping at the arm of his chair. “But still. Maybe it’d be better if I have a story in case someone asks me about it.” 

Emboldened by the alcohol now coursing through your system, you lowered yourself onto his lap, one heeled foot keeping yourself grounded. You swore you could see the stars exploding in his eyes; you knew this was what he’d wanted since day one. 

You put a saccharine voice on, thickening it with innocence. “Oh, but I swear, I didn’t want to drink it. He practically poured it down my throat,” you purred, placing a hand on his chest. 

“So that’s your angle? Sleazy boss got you drunk to cop a feel?” Saul asked, eyes darkening, but now he brought the glass to your lips, which you parted immediately. “He sounds like a real piece of work.” 

You smirk. “He is.” 

Saul tipped the glass’ contents into your mouth, scotch splashing across your tongue and down your throat as you swallowed as much as you could, the excess bubbling over your lips and soaking the front of your shirt. His other hand held your jaw in place, fingers a little too rough against the soft of your cheek. 

As he withdrew the glass, you made a big show of licking your lips to catch the leftover drops, then captured your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting for him to make the next move. 

Saul patted your cheek, the warm metal of his ring knocking against bone. 

“Good girl,” he said lowly. His hand slid up the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His thick fingers knotted in your hair, tugging ever so gently. 

“Thank you, sir,” you replied with a sharp intake of breath at the tug. 

Upon hearing the title, he let out a groan and pulled you towards him, mouths meeting messily. The taste of malt liquor mingled on both of your lips as you panted into each other, high pitched keening from you and small whines from the back of his throat. 

His other hand snaked down to grasp at your ass, collecting a generous handful and using it to hoist you closer to his body, his hips jerking up to roll against your thigh as the kiss deepened. 

“You’ve been–killing me–all, hah, all week,” Saul moaned through the kiss. “Your fuckin’--your body, the looks you give me, the–the goddamn pen biting.”

You laughed, which turned into a whimper as he worked a hand under your bra. “I told you–you were gonna have to try harder.”

“Well, Jesus, shit–If I’d known all that meant was getting drunk and–callin’ ya a good girl, hell–” he groaned as you ran a hand down his stomach and palmed his erection– “I woulda done it way sooner.” 

You kissed him again to get him to stop talking–he was cute, but more so when he knew when to shut up. All you really wanted to hear at the moment were his overwhelmed whines as you worked at his cock.

You had, what, one more week here? You’d already wasted the first with petty flirts and pretend prudence–you hoped Saul was okay with you rescheduling his meetings, because you were going to use the rest of your employment wisely.

#saul goodman x y/n #better call saul fanfic #saul goodman #saul goodman x reader #jimmy mcgill x reader #jimmy mcgill #better call saul

[quiltedgold]

also you all are TOO GOOD to me with the amount of delicious requests in my inbox rn. i will be sure to get to them all in good time but until then thankx u r all the BEST muah <3

[quiltedgold]

Saul and the cute new paralegal he's hired who wears pretty sheer, black pantyhose and skirts that are almost too short... Whenever they bend over (they seem to dropping all kinds of stuff, all the time!), there's a little voice in his brain getting louder, telling him to bend them over his desk and rip that pair of pantyhose at the crotch to have a quickie! If they complain about him ruining a favorite pair afterwards, he immediately promises to buy them more, any kind they want, as long as they're okay with replacing them more often ;)

ohhhhhh boy anon you have no idea what this awakened in me

here ya go! this is a good time to mention that i’ll use whatever pronouns for reader that are in the ask, and if there aren’t any, i’ll make my best guess or pick for myself! 

i churned this one out pretty quick in a bout of inspiration. hope ya enjoy!

an impulsive man

contains: gn!reader, smut, dubcon if you squint but reader gives consent

Saul considered himself to be an impulsive man. Better to admit to the fact and prepare for its consequences than lie to himself, he reasoned. Some may consider impulsivity a fault, but whenever his body sprang him into action, his mind seemed to get itself up to speed immediately after and everything would turn out in the end. 

But after watching his cute new paralegal bend over after dropping something for the umpteenth time this week, too-short skirt barely protecting their modesty, he found himself reconsidering his spontaneity. 

If he was truly impulsive, he would have bent them over his desk their first day on the job, when they wore a skirt way too short for a business environment over sheer black pantyhose and Saul could practically see their panties when they leaned over to refill the printer tray. 

Hell, he would have done it beforehand, at their first interview, when they’d worn a shirt with a few too many undone buttons and batted their eyelashes at him and said I’m a real eager learner, Mr. Goodman, but instead he just silenced the little voice telling him to tear the rest of their buttons off, and hired them on the spot.

Whose idea was it to hire a cute paralegal, anyway? 

Oh, yeah. 

His. 

Saul curses his lust-driven hiring practices as the paralegal bends over his desk, talking about some clarification in the papers in front of him, but all he’s paying attention to is their chest dangerously close to his face and he’s shamelessly peering down their shirt and there’s no way they haven’t noticed by now, I mean why else would they keep coming to work in such slutty outfits, they’re practically begging for me to tear the crotch of their tights out and–

“Mr. Goodman?” a voice breaks though his spiral. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, what is it, sweetheart?” Saul fumbled, flicking his eyes from their chest to their eyes. 

Their eyebrows raised. “Did you hear me? I asked whether you’d already finished up on this case.”

“Oh. No, yeah. Yeah,” Saul fiddled with his pinky ring. 

“Yes or no, sir? I’d like to file this soon.” 

Sir. The honorific went straight to his dick, like it always did, and it twitched in his pants. 

“Yes. Yes, I have. Thanks for checking.” he swallowed. The moment they left, he may have to take care of his little problem. Unless…?

“Of course, sir. Oh–” a pen clattered to the floor, and they huffed in annoyance. “S’cuse me…”

And there they went again, bending down, this time literally right in front of his fucking face. He was close enough to, if he wanted to, reach out and push their skirt up. It wouldn’t even take much, they made those pantyhose so flimsy these days, just a yank and it’d rip right down the crotch and he could have his way with them. 

The pen had fallen under the desk, and they had to stretch to get it, and they were making little breaths as they reached that sounded almost like moans, and

Jesus Christ they’re practically asking for it. 

Fuck it. 

The moment they stood back up, Saul leapt from his chair and pressed his hips against theirs, trapping them against the hardtop of the table. 

They let out a little surprised squeak, then giggled. “About time, Mr. Goodman.”

“You little tease,” he growled. “God, I’ve been wanting to do this all week.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he dug his fingers into the sheer netting of their pantyhose and ripped, tearing a hole right down the flimsy seam and exposing their hole to the cool office air. 

Scrambling to unzip his pants and free his cock, he leaned down to whisper in their ear. “You’re lucky I’ve got control over my impulses, or else this would have been your employee onboarding.” 

With a single thrust, he buried himself inside their heat, which amidst the haze of lust he found to be surprisingly wet and elastic.

“Did you prep for this, you little minx?” he groaned, mind dizzy with the sensation of finally being inside his cute paralegal. 

“Maybe,” they purred, pushing back against his pelvis. “Was hoping one of these days you’d crack.”

“Shoulda said something sooner, doll,” he said, palming at their ass as he thrust erratically into them, driven by pent-up desire. “Hope you’re okay with a quickie.”

They replied with a pornographic moan, sending a shiver up Saul’s spine. He curled himself over their form and thrust harder, aware that their hip bones were likely banging into the wood of the desk. A fit penalty for having riled him up so much in the first place. 

The sloppy sound of skin slapping on skin echoed through the rotund office space, and Saul thanked God that he’d had the idea to soundproof this room. 

xx

Afterwards, the paralegal perched on Saul’s lap, curled up against his chest as they both came down from the racing high. 

Francesca kept trying to buzz in to yap at him, but he muted her line and instead focused on gently kneading into his paralegal’s ass, now bare under the skirt.

They lifted their head from his chest and pouted at him. “Hey. You ripped my favorite pantyhose.”

Saul laughed. “Don’t worry, sugar. I’ll buy you a truckload of those cheap scraps as long as you’ll let me rip ‘em all off you.”

#saul goodman x reader #saul goodman #saul goodman x y/n #better call saul fanfic #jimmy mcgill x reader #jimmy mcgill #better call saul

[quiltedgold]

please write more saul x reader fics 🥲

your wish is my command, i’ll get cracking 😙

if you have any specific requests drop them in my inbox! don’t be shy because even the tiniest idea is fuel for my saul goodman obsession ‼️‼️

#saul goodman x reader #jimmy mcgill x reader

[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.

#better call saul #bcs #jimmy mcgill #jimmy mcgill x reader #saul goodman #saul goodman x reader #bcs fanfic

[quiltedgold]

study buddies - leorio p.

pairing: leorio paladiknight x f!reader

wc: 1.9k

genre: smut. 18+ pretty please

contains: smut, unprotected sex, switch!leorio, switch!reader, college-age, handjob, yada yada

notes: this has not been proofread so forgive any mistakes. my friend saw a tiktok art this concept and inspired me to write this. also the empty leorio smut tag made me sad, so. enjoy :p

As you approached the door of your apartment, you dug in your bag for your keys, and… Nothing. No metal against your fingertips or jangling sounds from the depths of the backpack.

Damn it. No way you forgot them in Leorio’s apartment. You two had been studying for so long, and you were positive you had gathered up all your things from the table before heading out…

After one last sweep of your backpack, you were positive. No keys.

Sighing, you turned to make the trek back across campus to Leorio’s place. It wasn’t too far, a fifteen minute walk, ten if you hurried. Hopefully he was still up.

Before long, you were back at the entrance to his apartment complex. Grabbing your phone, you dialed him up and waited as it rang, then went to voicemail. Ah, maybe he was in the shower? No matter, you had a spare key to his place in case of emergencies, and he for yours. He wouldn’t mind if you used it to grab what you needed and got out of there. Fishing it out of your bag, you unlocked the door and headed up to his floor.

Rapping twice on the door, you called out- “Hey, Leorio? It’s me, I forgot something…”

No reply.

Frowning, you slotted the key into the lock and eased the door open, hoping he wasn’t asleep.

Before you saw him, you heard him. Quick, ragged breaths, and the wet, unmistakable sound of… Oh, god.

He was splayed on the couch, his legs spread and his sweatpants loose around his thighs. His head was thrown back against the cushions, facing towards the door, and you. His face was twisted in pleasure, his teeth digging into his lower lip. His sunglasses were nowhere to be seen.

The sounds you heard were coming from his hand wrapped around his dick, rapidly fisting it into his palm. As you watched, his hips stuttered upwards once, and he threw his head back even further, letting out a whine, adam’s apple bobbing up his throat. He looked absolutely debauched.

Your brain battled with your desires, respect for your friend warring with the thoughts raging through your head.

Just when you thought you could work up the courage to leave, Leorio moaned your name in the most breathless, needy tone you’d ever heard from him, followed by a whiny, “Fuck, y/n, please-”

Your feet were immediately frozen to the floor, heart leaping into your throat. Your common sense told you to scram, to shut the door quietly and let him have his privacy and forget this ever happened, for both of your sakes’.

But the other part of you was louder. The part who knew that you’d been lusting after your friend for months, the part who’s encouraged the urge to crawl into his lap and kiss him breathless and more each time you hung out to study, but always been stifled… until now. That part of you made your brain kick into gear again.

You stepped quietly inside, shutting the door behind you, kicking off your shoes and placing your bag on the ground.

You padded over to the couch, face heating up with anticipation as you got closer.

“Leorio…” you whispered, and his eyes flew open, letting out a choked gasp. The hand around his dick halted its ministrations, and he scrambled to pull his sweatpants back up.

“Oh my god, y/n, I’m so sorry, I, I thought you had left-”

“If you were so pent up, you could have asked for my help,” you hummed, gently pushing his hand away from his sweatpants. “What else is a study buddy for?”

Leorio gulped, desperately searching your eyes for confirmation that his actions weren’t wrong, that you meant what you were saying. His pupils were still blown with pleasure, sweat beaded across his forehead.

You trailed your fingers up his thigh, ghosting the base of his dick.

“Need some help?” you asked, holding his gaze for affirmation.

“Yes, please, god, yes. I- I need you so bad, please,” he moaned, bucking his hips up into your featherlight touch.

Smiling, you retracted your hand and fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt instead. “I want you to show me how you were doing it,” you requested.

Gasping, he grabbed his cock again and began pumping it, screwing his eyes shut with pleasure and perhaps shame.

“Tell me what you think about when you do it,” you said, sliding a hand beneath his shirt.

“You, always you,” he moaned without hesitation. “Kissing you, eating you out, f-fucking you, nngh-” He cut himself off as your fingers circled his nipple.

“Keep going,” you teased.

“Oh, god. You, sucking my- my cock, under the table or in the shower, or- fuck!” He jolted as you gave his nipple a pinch. “Please, I want you to… I want-”

“Want me to jerk you off?” You offered.

“Yes,” he answered, gasping.

With a devilish grin, you slid onto the couch next to him and tucked yourself into his side, placing your hand atop his on his cock, entangling your fingers and leading the pace, purposefully slowing it down. You moved with long, slow strokes, squeezing lightly at the base and tracing your thumb against the tip. He was painfully hard, beads of precum oozing from the angry red tip, and his hips bucked up with every especially hard squeeze.

“Fuck,” he garbled. “Fuck, y/n, it’s so good, please, I need to… I need to c-come, please-”

“Go ahead, Leorio,” you purred. “Come for me.”

With a strangled moan, his hips jutted upwards one last time and cum spurted from his tip, painting both of your knuckles’ white. Each pulse of liquid sent a jolt up his cock, and you squeezed it lightly as he rode out the bulk of his orgasm.

As he wound down, panting, you lifted your hand from his dick and brought it to your mouth, making sure he watched as you lapped up his salty substance from each finger. His eyes, already lidded, darkened with desire.

Flitting your gaze down again to his length, you saw that, unbelievably, it was still hard.

“Y/n,” he rasped. “Let me fuck you. Please.”

It was all you could do to nod before he flipped you over, back pressed into the cushions and head against the arm of the couch. In the blink of an eye, he had your shirt and skirt off, leaving you in simply the matching set of lingerie you’d worn in the event that this was an outcome of tonight’s study session.

Leaning back on his heels, he raked his eyes across your figure, admiring each inch, squeezing the base of his cock again with the sight of you.

Struck with a wave of self-consciousness, you pressed your thighs together and turned your head into the armrest, face burning.

Leorio tsked, “Don’t get shy now, not after you just jerked me off on my own couch,” he growled, slotting his knee in between your thighs to force them apart. Running a finger along your covered slit, he stopped when he reached your heat, pressing lightly then bringing his finger up to examine.

“Oh, my god, you’re soaking,” he groaned, sucking his finger into his mouth to lap your juices clean. He leaned down to capture you in a kiss, hungrily sucking at your lower lip and dipping his tongue into your mouth. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and something that normally would have disgusted you only served to turn you on further as your tongues pressed against each other. You kissed hungrily for several moments, until the heat burning down below became too much to bear.

“Please, fuck me,” you moaned into his ear, looping your arms around his neck. “I can’t wait any longer, please.”

Nodding, Leorio wasted no time, shoving your panties to the side and lining his cock up with your entrance. Even the touch of his tip against your hole had both of you groaning, and he met your gaze and held it as he pushed his length all the way in. You wailed, wrapping your legs around his trim waist and trying everything to pull him closer, deeper.

His cock stretched your walls deliciously, filling you perfectly and making you wonder how you could have ever lived without this.

After his pelvis pressed flush against yours, his length as deep as humanly possible, he paused to give you time to adjust. Time held still, your breathing synched, his head dropped against your shoulder and pressing openmouthed kisses against your collarbone, light sideburns scratching gently against your jawline.

Then the moment was over, and he pulled out entirely, just the tip remaining. You almost cried at the loss, but he thrusted back into your heat before you could procure the sound.

The pace he set was breakneck, cock slamming into your tight hole, his moans echoing in your ear. What should have been too much only fanned the flames of your lust, throwing your head back with each thrust and crying his name and an assortment of obscenities.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Leorio groaned, breathless. “Ever since you came to my place in that short-ass skirt and kept uncrossing your legs in front of me, god-”

His hands gripped your waist for dear life as he fucked into you, the size of them deliciously large compared to your frame, his thumbs practically touching. Leorio’s fingers pressed shadows into the soft of your stomach, undoubtedly leaving marks by the end of the night; which you couldn’t find it in yourself to be unhappy about.

“Remember that?” He asked, rolling his hips in a way that made you squeal. “I was convinced you were doing it to- nngh- to tease me. By the end of the night I was this close to bending you over the table and taking you right there, shit.”

Catching his breath, he leaned down to hiss in your ear. “But I guess that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? Little slut.”

Fuck. You wailed at that, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Your fingers scrabbled for purchase against his back, likely leaving scratches against its tan expanse.

He groaned, speeding up the pace of his thrusts, cock insatiably hot and thick inside you. “Y/n, I’m close- want you to come with me, c’mon-”

Thankfully, the incessant slapping of his balls against your ass, pelvis rubbing against your clit, and his length reaching impossible centers within your cunt was sending you dangerously close to the edge.

“Please, Leorio, I need it, I need you, please-”

“Fuck, baby, I’m c-coming, where d’you- where do you want it-”

“Inside, inside-” you gasped without thinking, and he buried his cock inside you one last time, groaning as thick spurts of white painted your walls. The feeling of his cum inside you sent you over the edge, arching your back and sending your eyes rolling back into your skull as your orgasm racked your body, fireworks of pleasure radiating through each appendage. You gripped his damp hair for purchase as you rode out your climax, and he huffed against your throat, arm muscles rippling as their strength faded.

Both of you panted as you came down from your respective highs. Rolling off you, Leorio collapsed at your side, hands trailing over your heaving chest.

With a puff of laughter, you turned your head to meet his eyes, now droopy and satisfied as they gazed into yours.

You grinned softly. “I should forget my keys over here more often.”

#leorio x reader #hxh x reader #hxh smut #leorio smut