T | she/her | mid 20s (20+ only here, no minors and no 18 or 19 year olds) | Psychology/Library Gal | Anxiety/Depression | glasses/hearing aids | reading/writing | Fantasy/Sci-Fi | History | Crime/Med | Christian | Bisexual | This blog (which is NSFW at times) is what it says on the tin I like a lot of fandoms (includes, but is not limited to (you can always ask ;)): HBO War, Star Trek franchise, Doctor Who, Arrowverse, Marvel, Broadway, Supernatural, Law and Order franchise, The X-Files, MASH, Criminal Minds, Buffyverse, OUAT, ER/The Pitt/The Librarians/Leverage, Grimm, Bones, Southland, Animal Kingdom, Castle, Stargate SG-1, Farscape, CSI) I am willing to write (fluff, angst, smut, x reader, ships, imagines, headcanons, drabbles, preferences, one shots; not all characters or ships)/share my writing Requests are: CLOSED FOR EVERYTHING (I’ve got shit going on physically and mentally and emotionally)
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Summary: it’s really hot on the 4th of July and you and John need a shower
WC: ~2.9k
Warnings: nakedness, intimacy, dry or um wet? humping/grinding, showering together, my very bad attempt at comedy, he rubs your clit, there's talk of having penetrative sex but none is depicted
In regards to gif: beard not mentioned
-
There were so many fans going around the Admit desk.
“It’s hot as shit.” You complained. “One of the busiest days of the year and we’re expected to work under these conditions? Exactly how well are any of us functioning cognitively speaking when it’s this fucking hot?”
“Well, at least you have a shower at my place to look forward to.” John kissed your temple as he came up beside you.
“Really?” You asked, slightly surprised by his comment.
“Obviously.” He set down a chart in front of him.
“Oh, okay. Well, thank you.”
“You’re welcome?” He phrased it as a question. What a queer response. “You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable.”
You shook your head. “No, that’s not it.”
He shrugged. “You just seem surprised when I said that. You’re allowed to spend time with your boyfriend, you know.”
You smiled at his teasing tone. “Obviously, I know that. I spend time with you all the time.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Was it the shower thing? Was that what was weird?”
You sighed. “I guess I just didn’t realize that I could shower at your place whenever I wanted to.”
He chuckled and smiled boyishly. “Of course, what else are boyfriends for?”
“Curing boredom.” You deadpanned.
He laughed lightly. “You’re cute.”
You flashed him a smile. “I know.”
“No, seriously, it’s really cute that you didn’t think that you could come over anytime.”
“I literally came over last week because I was bored one evening and then remembered that I had a boyfriend.”
He rolled his eyes playfully. “I meant anytime besides when you’re just bored.”
“I didn’t mean to say that I don’t want to spend time with you. Or that I don’t enjoy spending time with you. Whether that’s spontaneous time or scheduled time.”
“You literally planned an elaborate city tour for us last month. And I’ve lived here my whole life.”
You ever so lightly punched his arm. “You say that like you didn’t enjoy yourself, John.”
“Of course I enjoyed myself, I was with you.” He gave your forehead a kiss.
“Could you take that somewhere else, I’m trying to work.” Susan’s voice came from beside you.
Both you and John looked over at her. She had a small smile on her face. She’d obviously been half joking.
John apologized to her, gave your temple a kiss, and then walked away, but not before softly saying, “I’ll see you later,” to you.
“You two are disgusting.” Susan told you after he’d left. She was joking again.
“Aren’t you dating that firefighter? And do you remember how you were in his lap all night last weekend at the bar?”
“Point taken.”
“Mhm…”
-
The shift from Hell finally came to an end. Finally. The break room was empty as you were at your locker. You had pit stains. You had sweat stains under your breasts. And you were pretty sure you had a sweat stain on your back. You stunk. You were tired. And you really needed that shower. You must’ve been pretty lost in thought because you startled when hands were suddenly at your hips.
“You stink.” A familiar and welcome voice said from behind you before he was pressing a kiss to your head.
“If only there were a way to fix that.”
You could feel the smile from behind you. “I can think of a few.”
“There’s only one I’m particularly interested in right now.”
“Just a few more minutes and then we’re out of here.”
You both hurriedly collected your things from your lockers. Leading you by your hand, John pulled you toward the ambulance bay door. He led you to the parking garage and subsequently into his vehicle, kissing your hand and arm several times before reluctantly letting go. He couldn’t seem to get to his apartment building fast enough as he drove.
“John! Slow down!” You squeaked as he drove wildly through the streets of Chicago.
“We’re fine.” He insisted.
“You’re going too fast!” You protested.
He sighed and slowed his pace a bit. “Sorry. Just really excited. And my A/C still isn’t working!”
He wasn’t mad at you. He was just angry at his vehicle. He hadn’t gotten around to fixing it yet. All through June, his vehicle was hot and stale (not that that had stopped you two from going at it in it after a rough shift).
You put your hand over his and rubbed his knuckles. “We’ll get it fixed, relax, hon. Let’s just hope your shower is working.”
He looked at you dramatically. “Now why would you go and say that?”
“Sorry. Knock on wood?”
He knocked on your forehead a couple of times.
“Come on…come on…” he gritted out at a very long red light.
“Be patient.” You teased as you tickled his cheek.
“Fuck! Come on…”
You finally reached his apartment building and God shined down upon him, blessing your shared shower because there’s a spot right in front. “Yes, yes!”
He hurriedly unbuckled himself, then unbuckled you when you didn’t move fast enough. He fumbled with the door handle, stumbling out of the vehicle.
“Slow down there, cowboy.” You chuckled.
He looked over at you. His hair was stuck to his forehead in a couple of places, his tee shirt already sweat stained as well from the drive home. “Slow down? In this heat? With water waiting for me? And you naked? Uh uh. No way.”
He shut the door and sprinted over to open yours. He tugged you out and promptly shut your door as well.
The lobby man opened the door for him as he saw John sprint up with you in tow, knowing it was hot, knowing John, and sensing the urgency.
“Thanks, Owen.” John thanked the man quickly before making a bee line for the elevator.
“Anytime, man.” Owen called after him.
After impatiently tapping the elevator button several times on the outside, John practically jammed his finger on the floor button upon entering the elevator after tugging you into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet as the elevator ascended. His hand held yours tightly still. Its weight was comforting in yours even if it was very sweaty.
You both were sweaty and hot and uncomfortable. Neither of you could wait until you could get your clothes off and get under some cool water.
He’s out of the elevator as soon as it’s opening and tugging you toward his apartment door. He fumbled with his keys. And of course he dropped them.
“Fuck me!” He bellowed as he leant down to pick them up. “The universe hates me!”
The door finally opened as you both stumbled inside. He immediately began divesting himself of his clothes at a concerning pace (you do wonder how he doesn’t lose his balance and fall on the floor). You went at a slightly slower pace. You hadn’t quite gotten your bra and panties off when he’s pulling down his boxers and stepping out of them.
“Come on, sweetheart.” John almost whined at you.
“What?! Would you chill for like one second?” You peeled your socks off.
“Let me take your bra off, please!”
“Okay! Fine!”
He’s very close to you now and his fingers are trying to unhook the bra. He’s fumbling a bit. He growled in frustration. “Ah! I did this in two seconds like three days ago!”
He finally got it and quickly yanked it off of you. Your nipples hardened a bit from the exposure to air. His hands are at your panties now and he’s yanking them down too.
“I did not say you could take my panties down.” You scold as you step out of them.
“Yeah, yeah, spank me later.” He is tugging you towards his bathroom.
He muttered “please please please” under his breath as he turned the shower on. Water sprayed from the shower head. “Haha! Yes!”
He stepped under it and groaned satisfactorily. His hands were planted firmly on your hips, keeping you close to him under the spray. He leant in to pepper kisses to your face and neck. Your nipples hardened even more under the cold water. He can feel them against his chest.
“Fuck, this feels so good.”
His hands go to knead your ass. His hardening cock slid between you two.
“John, this is a cold shower. Like cold as fuck. My nipples are already perked up.”
“Yeah? It is? Tell little John that.”
“Biologically speaking-” , how are you hard right now? You should be shriveled. Sad. Tiny. Flaccid.
He cut you off as he molded his mouth to yours. He thrust his hips against yours.
“John…we’re supposed to be…showering…” You panted against his mouth.
“Yeah? You wanna shower?” He whirled you both around so your head got soaked, the water trickling down your body.
He reached to get your body wash and squirted a bit into the wet loofah. He then began to scrub the body wash into your back and buttocks. It felt good on your skin (so did the cold water on your icky feeling skin). He turned you around so he could suds up your breasts and stomach, his cock now nudging your ass. He rubbed the loofah between your legs.
“John…lemme get you…”
“‘M not done with you yet, sweetheart.” He emphasized his point by bringing his free hand up to squeeze your breast and then he pinched your nipple.
He ran the loofah across your abdomen then your stomach some more. He then scrubbed down your thighs.
“I’m pretty sure I’m pretty clean.”
“My dirty girl isn’t nearly clean enough.”
You chuckled. “You’ve got me pretty good. I think I’m good.”
“You’re not good until I say you are.” He rubbed the loofah between your legs again. He rubbed it over your clit.
“Ohhh, that kinda good…we uh shouldn’t waste a lot of water, probably.”
“Arms up, then. Lemme get your pits.”
You raised your arms so he could scrub at your armpits. Very sexy. But he ticked you under there and you instinctively jerked.
“John! No!” You chirped, then whipped around to face him. His arms immediately wrapped your body, holding you close to him. He was nose to nose with you now.
“Just having some fun.”
“You’re so mean.” You mock pouted.
“I’ll make it up to you.” He pressed his lips to yours. One of his hands briefly left your body to shut the shower off so you indeed were not wasting too much whilst you were very distracted.
“We’re gonna… slip.” You chuckled softly. “This was a terrible idea.”
“Good thing we’re both doctors.”
“We’re also both idiots. Your clumsy ass is definitely overdue for a concussion.”
“That last time was not my fault.” He insisted. “Jerry put that crash cart there on purpose.”
“Sure he did, hon.”
“He did!” John exclaimed. “He just won’t admit it. And Susan won’t say anything about it either.”
“It’s all a big conspiracy against you, hmm?”
“It really is quite disheartening.”
“Poor baby.” You stroked his arms.
He tilted his head down so his lips brushed your ear. “Maybe you can kiss me, make it better?”
“Smooth change of subject.” You wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Like you’re complaining.” He moved to peck your lips.
“I’ll be complaining in the ER when I have a concussion.”
“Alright…out, out.” He huffed as he ushered you out of the tub.
“I’m going!” You chuckled as you stepped out but you apparently weren’t fast enough because he patted your butt.
“Hey!” You exclaimed.
“Move your pretty ass.” He commanded.
You scoffed. “Make me.”
“Oh-ho, you are testing me, sweetheart.” He crowded you against the sink. “And after the day I’ve had, I don't think you want to do that.”
“The day you’ve had? What about the day I’ve had?” You exclaimed.
“Yeah, I guess you did have a pretty bad day.”
You were faux offended. “Pretty bad? Pretty bad?”
He cocked his head. “Very bad?”
You scoffed. “Atrocious, actually.”
“Well let’s get dried off and in bed, hmm? We can poop right out. Unless…you wanna maybe…continue?”
You sighed. “We could cuddle fuck. I’m really tired.”
He smiled boyishly. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to do a goddamn thing.” He nipped at your neck. “I’ll do everything.”
“Even if you’re exhausted too?”
“When have I ever been too exhausted to fuck you, hmm? If you want it, it’s yours.”
“I do want your cock.” You murmured slightly sheepishly even though you’ve been with John a great many times.
“Then you’ll have it.” He snapped the towel off the shower rod and wrapped it around you. “But let’s get you completely dried off first before I get you in a bed.”
He took the towel and dried off your head, then your shoulders, going downward until he’d gotten to your feet. Playfully, he kissed them. He knew he was in a weird position where he’d come from money and grew up way more privileged than you had. While he’s distanced himself a bit from it and that resulted in him living in a kinda shitty apartment, he still felt the weight of that privileged upbringing on your relationship from time to time. He made up for it in small ways. He wasn’t too proud to service you, that wasn’t beneath him. He’d kiss your feet, let you use him as a footrest (God knows he couldn’t afford an ottoman or be able to fit one in his small apartment), or worship your body, doing all the work while you just got to lay there.
His hands and lips were everywhere, lulling you into a state of deeper relaxation. He kept moving the towel over your body when he was done kissing there so he could move on to another newly bare area. He repeated this until you were completely dry and feeling very loved and well taken care of.
“Let’s get into bed now, yeah?”
You could only agree with him and nod as he led you to his bedroom and into his bed, a place you were very familiar with at this point. You curled right up in his bed like you belonged there (he’d argue you absolutely did). He slotted himself in behind you, tugging you close to him.
“Theeere we go. Nice and cozy?”
“Mhm. Very.”
“Just let go of all of that tension and stress for me.” He began to massage your shoulders. “That’s right…”
Your legs tangled with his. Your chest was pressed to his.
His hips bumped forward into you and you laughed. “Trying to get hard again? Will you not let me actually relax?”
“You wanted this, right? My cock? Relax.” He rolled you onto your back. He settled on top of you. “Lay back. Let me do all the work. I mean that.”
His lips grace your neck, leaving lots of warm kisses there as his hands caress your sides. “Just let me…mmm…let me love on you some.”
“I think you did enough of that in the shower.”
He shook his head. “Uh uh…never enough for my girl.” He spread your legs wider and his thumb found your slit.
“You exhaust me, John Truman Carter the Third.” A soft laugh escaped you.
He pouted. “Aw, but you love me.”
You sighed dramatically. “Must be why I’m in your apartment and in your bed.”
“Must be.” He peppered kisses across your chest. “Definitely not because you hate me. Something’s gotta keep you coming back for me. Maybe it’s my money or my cock, I dunno.”
You give his shoulder a playful shove. “Yeah, right. Your cock is definitely the only reason I’m still with you.”
“Pretty big reason though, right?”
“Definitely a very… very big reason I stick around.”
He peppered your face in kisses as he rubbed your clit slowly. “If it’s so big, we gotta warm you up first so it’ll fit.”
You snorted. “You’d fuckin’ better.”
He smirked as he kissed your neck. “Don’t I always?”
“Of course you do.”
“Because I take good care of my girl, don’t I?” He nipped at your earlobe. He rubbed your clit faster.
“Yes.” You whined. “You do.”
“Fuck yeah, I do. Isn’t this just a perfect way to end a fucking shitty day?”
“Mhm.” You agreed. “The best way. But we’re gonna get all sweaty again and we’ll probably need to shower again. Which would use more water. Which would not be great for your water bill.”
“You telling me to stop? I’ll take a shitty shift of Deb’s or something. She’ll let us shower at her place as a thank you for that.”
“You really think so?”
“Won’t know until I ask, of course, but I’m pretty sure she-”
“No.”
“What?!” John sighed in exasperation. “Come on, Deb!”
“I’m sorry, John, I can’t. I have a social life too, you know.”
“We would just need to shower at your place.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t let you do that. I have company today.”
“Maybe Susan would let us shower at her place.” John sighed after he hung up.
You shook your head. “She’s got her firefighter over tonight.”
“Damn it…” John murmured.
“We could just go find a public pool to hop into.” You suggested.
“You? In a bikini? Sold.”
“What? N-”
It’s too late. He’s already all over you again and you hardly want him to stop until you’re lost in him completely and experiencing bliss underneath him.
Grant Reilly x popular food/restaurant critic!reader
Summary: Marcus jumped at the chance to pump some life into a stalling restaurant but Grant isn't so sure he's ready for any big changes... maybe you, a critic, can soften the blow a bit and assuage some concerns/fears for him
Word count: ~3k
Warnings: none other than brief mentions of unethical stuff/crossing professional boundaries (nothing bad is even done, though)
photo credit: @grant-reilly as tumblr source/Quinn as OG source
-
Grant was really fucking nervous when a very popular restaurant/food critic on Instagram was interested in coming to North & Vine. Marcus had jumped at the chance to have you in there. You were very nice, reaching out to discuss what could or couldn’t be posted according to him and Marcus (and not “you can’t smack talk our food”). You were honest about your integrity (which he admired). You’d mentioned some people trying to bribe you for a good review. You’d never taken a bribe before. Then they’d decline to allow you to film in the restaurant. But you could tell everyone that on Instagram and they’d face the consequences of trying to bribe you to give them a good review because everyone knew now and was suspicious of why they thought they needed to bribe you. He knew better than to try anything stupid like that.
He’d seen your content (Marcus had shown it to him, that is). You’d reviewed places all over Boston: newer more “trendy” pop ups as well as classic old staples. You didn’t shy away from any venue or opinion. You were interested in all sorts of places and only interested in honest reviews. He admired that about you as well.
He was very anxious waiting for you to arrive. He was pacing his kitchen, in fact, annoying his staff.
“Just breathe, chef. It’ll be alright.” His sous chef told him.
“A popular food critic with a website and a huge Instagram following is coming to my restaurant tonight. And I’m supposed to just relax? We all have a lot riding on this.”
“The food and the restaurant are solid. She’ll love both. She’ll love you.”
The faintest blush dusted his cheeks. He knew what you looked like. And he liked what he saw. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Marcus appeared in the kitchen. “Grant, she’s here. Come meet her.”
“Shit. Shit. Okay.” He checked his hair in his reflection in a spoon before leaving the kitchen to go greet you.
You were dressed comfortably as you waited patiently at the front of the house.
“Thank you for coming. I’m Grant Reilly, the co-owner. I see you’ve already met my better half. We’re uh we’re very excited to have you here. We have a table ready for you.” He held his hand out for you to shake.
“Thank you for having me, Grant.” You smiled at him as you took his hand, shaking it.
Fuck, that smile. He thought. Classic. Charming. Strong grip, too.
He led you to the table himself and made sure you got seated comfortably. He brought out all the food for you personally and took pride in presenting them to you. He didn’t care if it signaled he was trying too hard. At least he hadn’t tried to bribe you. Besides, you weren’t here to judge him or his servers specifically but the food and the restaurant as whole. You could observe the servers. But you stopped him halfway through the meal.
“Excuse me, Mr. Reilly, but I really do prefer to be treated as any other customer. I apologize for not mentioning it earlier. I would like a regular server, especially since I know they get to keep the tips from their tables for themselves. I’d like to tip a server directly for their hard work.”
His blush deepened. Why hadn’t he taken that into consideration? Usually he was better at being very considerate about his staff.
“Of course. You’re in uh…” he had to think for a second, “Daphne’s section, Daphne’s very good.”
“I’d very much like to meet her.”
Daphne was a very nice young woman who was very attentive to all of those in her section that night, not just to you. She didn’t neglect anyone. She was indeed a fantastic server. The environment here impressed you greatly.
You finished off the night with a bourbon bread pudding that was absolutely to die for. You left a generous tip for Daphne and requested that Grant and/or Marcus grant you a little post meal chat. The restaurant was Grant’s baby and his idea. Marcus had been his business partner but he really did manage the business side of it while Grant ran the kitchen and the restaurant day to day. Marcus wasn’t always there at the restaurant, but Grant was there running the kitchen every night. So Marcus sent Grant to speak with you alone.
He introduced you to the kitchen staff and you couldn’t have been nicer with them. You complimented them on their work and even somehow got them talking about their personal lives with you. You very much picked up on the family vibe that had been fostered. You really seemed to empathize with them on a personal level he was not expecting from a food critic, especially one as popular as you. He figured you wouldn’t have the time to or wouldn’t want to make the time to be so damned sweet. He knew you would be writing a review on your blog along with a few pictures you took and posting some video content on Instagram (all agreed upon). And he hoped you were getting an accurate sense of what he had been building here for the last twenty years.
You stuck around until after closing. He initially wasn’t planning on hosting you that long but you’d just been so damned charming that he had completely let time slip away from him. You stood off to the side while his staff cleaned and then he dismissed them. You stayed out of his way as he closed up and then it was just you two alone in the restaurant. He offered you some wine and you agreed to it. But just one glass. You didn’t need more than that. You’d drunk water during dinner.
“You have a very classic vibe going on here. It’s good, I like it.” You observed as you two sat in a cozy booth across from each other.
“Classic.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You mean old-fashioned. And not in a good way.”
“Old-fashioned and not in the good way?” You tilted your head curiously. “Well, there are some places that have either never evolved from the basics or are returning to that now. And I think that’s a good thing actually.”
That surprised him. His own head cocked. “How so?”
“A lot of places in a competitive restaurant market nowadays are trying to be bigger and brighter than other places. They’re trying to sell you a brand, an experience.” You explained. “People are overstimulated. They’re overwhelmed. The market is oversaturated now with all that glitz and glamor and lights and sounds.”
“I appreciate you having that view. Many people, including Marcus... don’t necessarily see it that way.”
“Well I do very much see this place that way. It’s a very nice and peaceful atmosphere here. It’s cozy. It’s quiet. You can actually breathe and relax and get comfortable here. The music is nice. The mood is nice. But…” you trailed off.
“But? Uh oh.” He joked but he was actually quite scared.
You put your hand up. “It’s not too bad. Don’t worry.”
“But what, though?” He urged.
“There’s still competition. There’s other places that are coming back to the traditional setting and they already have a following. You have regulars, staples, yes. But in today’s day and age, it’s sadly impossible to thrive without an online presence. I’d suggest that you get some kind of social media person to run that. The food’s great. It looks great. It tastes great. The atmosphere is great. Changing all of that is the hard part. You’re good there. It’s really just a matter of getting the word out there and letting a follower base stay updated with the day to day, the week to week, the month to month.”
He furrowed his eyebrows. “I dunno… I’m not really current on… all that.”
“Hence your marketing person doing the heavy lifting for you in that regard. You don’t necessarily have to be active on Instagram although it helps if “The Face” is friendly and active.”
“This isn’t going to turn my restaurant or me into a brand, is it?” He hated that idea.
“Don’t sell anything other than food that your team cooks here. Trust me on that. You don’t need to do that. It’s not a brand or merchandise, it’s just…getting yourself out there a little better, making this wonderful experience more available and accessible to a wider range of customers.”
“I didn’t really think I needed that.”
You shrugged. “Try it out. The worst thing that can happen is it doesn’t work out and you go back to doing it the way you’ve always done it. I’m just giving you fair warning that I’m mentioning the lack of social media presence in my review. But it won’t tank you any more, I promise. It’s only going to be a paragraph or two. Most of the review will focus on the food, the environment, and the atmosphere. But it is a shortcoming that must be pointed out.”
He could admit the old way was not servicing him so well anymore. “No, no. You’re right. I probably… need this, need the social media presence. Marcus is always talking about ways to infuse new life into this place.”
“I can recommend a fantastic social media gal to run your page for you. She’d completely lean into the whole “Back to Basics” vibe I’m getting here.”
“That is… entirely too gracious. Even after you’ve talked so favorably about everything and given me a heads up on it in the first place.”
“I like your restaurant, Grant. I like you. I’d love to see it stay afloat. I’d love for you to stick around for many more years to come. I want to set you up for success as best I can.”
“I can’t thank you enough for everything.”
“Don’t thank me. You already did that by giving me an absolutely lovely evening. Trust me, some evenings as a food and restaurant critic are more draining than others. You don’t make me want to lock myself away from all human interaction for three business days.”
He grimaced. “There places that are that bad?”
“Worse than you can possibly imagine.”
You two finished off your glasses of wine and your conversation and he stood to escort you to the door. He kept his hand on the middle of your back as he guided you.
“You have a safe trip home now, alright?”
“I will, thank you again for a very lovely and enjoyable evening.”
“Hey, wait.” He stopped you by cupping your elbow. “Take my business card. Personal cell number’s on the back.”
“I hope you’re not thinking of starting a personal relationship with me, Mr. Reilly… although I’m very flattered…”
His cheeks heated and he stuttered. “I-I uh no! I mean… that wasn’t my intention. Or at least… not to my unfair advantage.”
“You cannot win me over with sweet words. You’re already in good standing with me. Don’t fuck it up.”
“I have no intention of doing so, believe me. I-I just…”
“You just… what?”
“Nothing.” He frowned, then pocketed his card. “Have a good night.”
“Goodnight, Grant.” You turned to leave but paused to turn back to face him. “For the record, though… if I wasn’t trying to maintain integrity before and during writing up my review of your restaurant and food, I’d so be all over that.”
And then you were out the door without another word.
And he felt like his (not so old) ticker was going to explode.
-
“Grant! You have to see this!” Marcus exclaimed as he burst into the kitchen, holding his phone.
Grant looked up from the stove. “What is it?”
“It’s the review!”
Grant stiffened. He handed his whisk to his sous chef. He put on his readers before taking Marcus’s phone from him, which had your website pulled up with the review for North & Vine.
Grant braced himself before he started reading it.
“You could’ve warned me it wasn’t bad.” He scolded his friend. “I almost had a heart attack, man.”
“Why would you be afraid it was bad? She was totally won over by your charms, man! Did you read what she wrote ab-”
“I did read that, yeah.”
You’d said: “At the heart of this soulful experience was co-owner Grant Reilly. Mr. Reilly is an extraordinary example of what I mention a lot, which is a return to simple kindhearted goodness. Reilly’s done a fantastic job of fostering an atmosphere that is simply to die for if you’re looking for a “treat yourself” night after a long week or an anniversary dinner. It’s no wonder the restaurant is so charming and relaxing if you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting Grant Reilly. And if you pop in regularly, you will be meeting him, trust me. Grant himself told me that he liked “to make everyone comfortable and feel welcomed, no matter who they are”. So if you’re enjoying your delicious risotto at North & Vine, don’t be surprised if you see a handsome grey haired gentleman talking it up with just about anyone as casually as if he’d known them for ages (in some cases, this is absolutely the case!).”
“You know she’s usually not so flattering with her character pieces, right?”
“I’ve read up on her site, yes, I know.”
“This is everything I’d hoped it would be, Grant!”
“Did she get in touch with you about a social media manager?”
“She did, yes. And you’ll never believe who she’s recommending.”
“I’m sure I won’t recognize the name.”
“Janiyah Taylor.”
“I was right. I’ve never heard of her.”
“She’s this amazingly talented young black woman. She’s very popular-”
“On Instagram? Yeah, I figured. I uh I gotta get back to managing a kitchen here so uh… I’ll let you handle the social media thing.”
“Would it kill you to download the app?”
“Probably. I’m getting on in years, I’m fragile, who knows what’s gonna do me in?”
“I’m just glad your charms helped keep that critic from doing this restaurant in.”
“Me too.”
“Why do you sound like that was ever actually a possibility?”
“Because sh-she’s a food critic, man! She can be brutal.”
“Yeah, to misogynistic assholes. You’re not a misogynistic asshole, Grant. You respect women and support them. You don’t hate them. You know some of those guys are absolutely deserving of those shitty reviews. Their food’s not good. And they’re not good people on top of that.”
“Alright, alright, I get it, man…”
“I don’t really think you do understand how charming you are, man.”
“I’m literally just… a guy, you know?”
Marcus chuckled lightly and shook his head. “You do not see how women look at you…”
Grant chuckled lowly now too. “Clearly, I don’t.”
“Go take a peek at table 9 right now.”
Grant didn’t know why he needed to but he had and there was a party of young women there. They spotted him and giggled to each other. Yeah, they definitely were looking at him a certain way. There was no denying that. He wasn’t sure how to feel about the new… attention.
As he stood there watching them, as their eyes were on him, he found that he really only wanted one particular woman’s attention.
He retreated to the comfort of his kitchen. Here, he knew what he was doing, he was in his element. He had his food, his menu, his team. But the comfort of the kitchen only gave him so much. For the longest time, he’d kinda just denied how it felt to be so into his work and to come home to an empty apartment.
He was getting on in years. He definitely wasn’t getting any younger. And his life was not getting any more exciting. He was about as settled as he was going to get. And yet… he’d been alone for a good portion of his adult life. Sure, he’d had girlfriends in his 20s and 30s. But as he entered his 40s, his job got more serious and he started taking himself and it more seriously. But that’d left less time for dating and the world had left his kind of gentlemanly demeanor and comfortable dating methods behind.
As he sat on his couch watching a Red Sox game, he debated texting you. Marcus apparently had managed to get your permission to give him your personal cell number (now that business with you was officially concluded). He stared at your contact in his phone. He could hardly believe it was even there or that he could touch the screen a few times and he could just… be having a text conversation with you. But how to start it?
“Hey, thanks for the great review and buzz generated, wanna go on a date with me?”
“Sorry I was too insistent and unprofessional before but do you want to date now?”
He remembered that you said you’d be all over him if you didn’t have a review to write. Well… the review was posted… there was no more professional obligation anymore. And he had your personal cell number with your permission! He was sure Marcus gave you his.
He decided on a very simple: “Hey, this is Grant. Still interested in me personally speaking?”
Your reply came quicker than he’d expected it to. “Absolutely. Took you long enough.”
He almost choked on his beer. “Long enough? Marcus only gave me your number a few days ago.”
“Hmmm… seems like too long.” He could picture your smile. “Kinda feels like you’re not all that interested in me.”
“I assure you I am.” He hoped you could picture his smirk.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You up for meeting up sometime, then?”
“I believe I texted you first to open up that possibility.”
“Follow through with it, then.”
“I fully intend to.”
Oh, you were going to be trouble for him, weren’t you? But he doubted he’d mind whatever trouble you two got into around Boston. It would probably be well worth it.
“Dear God. I hate summer.” You complained as you placed your panties in the hamper after smelling them. “I need a shower.”
Pope just stood and watched as you undressed and then disappeared into the bathroom.
They were right there. They were just right fucking there in the hamper. With the bathroom door closed, he could go right on over to the hamper and you wouldn’t know. The water was already running in the shower.
He was staring down at your panties in no time, hand reaching out until he touched the cotton material. They couldn’t smell that bad, could they? Only one way to find out…
He took the underwear in his hand and raised it to his nose. He took a deep inhale. Whew, they were rank. But his cock twitched in his pants anyway. He didn’t only love the scent of your body wash/soap and shampoo. He also loved how you smelled. Just you. As you were. Whatever you naturally smelled like, he liked it. Not even sweaty underwear could turn him off apparently.
These can’t be washed again. He told himself as he pocketed the pair you claimed to like the least anyway. He’d buy you another pack. He didn’t give a fuck. What were jobs even for if he couldn’t pay for nice shit for his partner? He’d hide the pair deep in his underwear drawer. You never went looking around in there. It was unlikely you’d find them. He could swiftly pocket them and discreetly carry them around with him anytime he’d like, anywhere he’d like. He could discreetly take a whiff whenever he could. You never had to know about it.
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Also feel like that because Pope didn't exactly grow up being exposed to "normal kid friendly" programming growing up that once he and Reader have kids he kind of gets lost in Sesame Street...
He grew up watching nature documentaries and tv that was far too violent for someone as young as him.
So, he never really remembers watching cartoons that often. So, Saturday morning he's sitting up with his kids with juice and watching Tom and Jerry and Sesame Street...like the man is genuinely watching it and not in the way parents watch tv with their kids...the man is paying attention. His kids love it and Reader understands the reasons why.
Pope would totally want his kids to have as normal of a childhood as possible and in a lot of ways the normal simple parts of childhood feel healing for Pope. His innerchild gets to be soothed by Big Bird, legos, and playdough...
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Too distracted this morning by thoughts of forbidding a subby boy from cumming right as he is about to, then watching him squirm around pathetically and try so desperately to hold in his load like a good, obedient boy ❤️ hearing him beggg me to let him cum with absolute desperation in his voice and his whimpering getting louder and louder… just for him to completely lose control and accidentally cum anyways. It’s so cute when they just can’t help it 🥰
imagine being jack's passenger princess :3
(established relationship, SFW)
꩜ if you don't have your drivers license, it's not even a question: jack will drive you anywhere and never complain about it. why take the bus when he's right there?
꩜ even if you do have your drivers license it's all the same to him. you only need to mention once that you feel a little anxious while driving for jack to make sure that you never have to touch a steering wheel if it's not strictly necessary. being your personal chauffeur is a mission he takes very seriously
꩜ it's more convenient if you two have a similar work schedule, but if you work the day shift he won't hesitate to reduce his sleep time to drive you and pick you up every day. you have suggested finding somebody to carpool with to avoid exhausting the poor man further, but it only resulted in him being offended by the idea
꩜ of course jack knows that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, but he'll do anything to make your life easier <3
꩜ you should never let him know that you like being driven around or he will start taking longer routes just for you to enjoy the scenery a little longer. you may not even have to say anything, he will notice you daydreaming while looking out the car window and smile to himself as he takes an unnecessary detour
꩜ if you ever happen to be mad at him and decide to drive yourself to work, he will be petty about it and hide the car keys so that you have no choice but to ride with him. he also won't let you step out of the car without giving him a kiss because god forbids he parts from you on bad terms
꩜ speaking of which, the only thing jack will allow the two of you to bicker over is choosing what song will be playing in the car (and it's a battle he always loses)
overstimulation as an act of devotion. giving you orgasm after orgasm to show you how wanted, how desired, how loved you are. i know, sweet thing. it’s so intense. it won’t stop. but that’s how my love is. insistent and powerful. an ocean at high tide. your moaning, screaming, crying, cumming shows me that you’ve received it. my love.
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i want a soft connection. i want to be asked how my day went and if i need anything. i want forehead kisses. i want the back of my hand kissed at red lights. i want to be asked how i’m mentally feeling. i want to hold hands everywhere we go. i want romantic gestures. i want my hair played in at the most unexpected moments. i want silent eye connections that lead to smiles. i want to take random walks.
Wanna write a Zach Addy x reader where they enter into a relationship only to appear socially normal. Like it’s completely just for appearances and convenience. It’s just to get Jack and Angela to stop trying to set them up on dates that make them feel bad. They recognize they aren’t society’s idea of conventional and gravitate towards each other because of that. But they find their own special affection and adoration toward each other. They don’t have to be conventional. They just have to feel comfortable being themselves with each other. They slowly become more comfortable with each other as the other accepts them. They find their own kind of love and relationship, no matter how unconventional it seems to anyone else.
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