#jimmy mcgill (if you squint)

[ame-in-the-rain]

realized that because ren was originally a faith oc, it'd be REAL funny if cool city and faith was set in the same universe

(cool city explanation under cut to not clog your dash)

okay so i've been exclusively listening to so-lo for the past couple weeks because brainrot and i realized that the tracklist could work really well as a jukebox musical so here's the story:

In winter of 1986 and after he loses his dear partner on a mission, private investigator Johnny McGill travels 2000 miles to a mysterious place in urban Connecticut only referred to as Cool City for a case. The city has gained traction for drawing in the young-ins and other social outcasts to find a "place they belong." There he meets Ren O'Malley, a teen who ran away from home after suffering a botched exorcism. She's learned that unlike most people in Cool City, she is physically unable to leave due to potentially supernatural means

there's a cult in there at some point i swear i know what i'm doing i need to have more psychic visions before i figure out the rest

[sunflawyer]

i need to start posting doodles daily and fill # jimmy mcgill tag with sunflawyer.... share them to the world nyeheheh

bcs fandom people... shows you abby... she's canon in the show if you squint your eyes a lil bit 🧡

[methempire]

here's the deal about every spit-shined, stone-slick, sub-par criminal in the state of albuquerque: they're predictable. they're profitable. they're damn near straight cash, flowing in from rivers, on rivers, on rivers. they come creeping into the corners, crawling out from cells, and drag themselves to jimmy mcgill's front door. now, bear with him, but when some high-top schmooze comes waltzin' into town, slinging himself into fat stacks of fevered dreams, a guy like jimmy? he might not blink twice ... but, saul goodman? he's got it covered. he's got ears in high places. low places. the in-betweens that space out the interims. saul goodman's got eyes behind the counters, in crawl spaces, below the belt, and vincent bisset? well, he's one easy mo-fo to spot.

"you googled me?" — @nonpareil.

he does his research. he's collected his coins. saul's got the ups, downs, and big bargains on just who vincent bisset is, and google? hell, google's just the tip of the iceberg. not that vincent needs to know that. not that anyone else will tell. (closed mouths are nothing but crapshoot in the dark, even for a man like the marquis. money's no object, but devotion's even truer, and saul's called in a few favors. done deal.) "whoa there," saul starts, hands flapping in the wind: a sign of surrender, if you squint. "i google all of my clients: even the potential ones." a heh-heh-heh of a chuckle shakes his shoulders, chair creaking as he leans back into it. a pen is flipped into his palm, then clicked. "that's a sign of a good lawyer, right there." a smile spreads, half-grin and wholly guiltless. "so, whaddya say? got a minute to chat?"

[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.