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mayfieldss · 8 months

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Girl dinner - Carmen Berzatto

Content Warnings: THIS IS MY MEAL. I CALL IT GIRL DINNER ✨️GIRLLLL DINNNER✨️

Inspired by this post I saw by @thebearer (i hope you don't mind me adding to the concept)

"What the fuck is girl dinner?" Carmy sounds more than frustrated, and confused as he stares down at you, sat comfortably on the couch with your choice of meal. It's an apalling assortment of things from his point of view, though your wide smile shows you think the opposite.

"This is girl dinner." You wave down at your food before stabbing a fork into the meal, eyes drifting to the tv.

"No, no, no, I can't let you eat that." Carmy seems a little distraught as you make eye contact with him, putting more of the dish you prepared into your mouth, chewing slowly as though to make the point 'but I'm eating it anyway.'

"Fuck, please stop with the girl dinner." You love how he's adopted the phrase himself, reaching down to pull the plate away from you, though you dodge him well.

"You eat peanut butter and Jelly for dinner almost five nights a week, so don't you dare scold me for this!" You're defensive as you stand with your plate, still spooning the disaster into your mouth. It doesn't taste as good as anything Carmy would make for you, but you're stubborn.

"At least that has substance, just let me make you something—Jesus stop eating it! There's no way that's nutritious at all!"

"Fuck nutrition!" You shout back, sounding almost like a child in your defiance.

"Fuck girl dinner!" Carmy counters expertly, though there's a hint of a laugh within his words. In the phrase coming from both his lips and your own, he finds a sort of hilarity, though the point he's trying to make is a genuine one.

"But I love girl dinner." You raise your brows as if that's the perfect blow, the one that will win you the fight, despite the statements lack of foundation.

"Well, I love you, and I can't let you eat cheese string and oreos—is that a slice of fucking orange?"

"What could you make that's better than this?" It's a stupid question, and one you know that answer to as you gesture down at the plate with one hand.

"Anything, fucking anything!" Carmy runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends. "What d'you want, I'll make you something, anything, just stop with girl dinner."

You take the slice of orange and bite into it, eyes locked on Carmen's. "The point of tonight's girl dinner is that I don't want to cook, and I also don't want you to cook."

"That's my fucking job."

"Exactly, you spend all day cooking, i don't want you to have to come home and cook for me too." Your voice is softer now, sweet and soothing, Carmy letting out a sigh at the sound of it.

He moves forward, taking the plate from you and placing it on the stool beside the couch. "Look, I don't mind. I don't mind making you something every once'n a while. You deal with all my shit all the fucking time, it's the least I can do." He takes your hands in his own, pressing his forehead to yours. "Just let me make you something."

"You're ruining the point of girl dinner." You mumble, pressing a short kiss to his lips as Carmy's hands run soothingly up and down your arms.

"Don't care." His mutters back, taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen, your other meal long abandoned on the stool to be disposed of later.

Days pass, Carmy is still thinking about it, and when he gets to work, he has to say something to the others. "Caught my girlfriend eating fucking orange slices and oreos for dinner the other night." He mutters whilst searing a steak in prep for a menu change. He glimpes Sydney nodding, and as Fak moves behind him, the man decides to speak.

"Girl dinner, good for her."

Carmy turns so fast to face the man that he almost sets his shirt alight on the element, thinking over the utter complexities of the term. "But what the fuck is girl dinner? How do you even know about–never mind."

"You know," Fak begins as Carmy runs a hand over his face in frustration, "this is my meal, I call this girl dinner" He's reciting something though Carmen has no clue where this is going, and when Fak starts singing it all seems to get worse.

He's repeating the phrase, and yet it still means nothing to Carmy as he moves away, leaving Fak to harmonize with Sydney as he picks up the phone.

Pressing call on your contact is like muscle memory, and the sound of the first few rings leaves him impatient, though you pick up eventually.

"Hey," he mutters into the phone, listening to your voice as you parrot the word back.

"Hey, what's up?" You sound preoccupied, and Carmy swears he can hear the closing of a cupboard door, the rustling of a packet of chips.

"Uh, nothing, I just... I wanted to call and ask if you're all good for dinner tonight." He's closed his eyes, leaning against the door of his office as the quiet settles over him. "D'you need anything?"

You answer almost too fast, suspicion creeping through the line with its grasp on your voice. "No, no, I'm good. Dinner's all good."

Carmy catches the tone, a small amused smile wriggling upon his lips. "Cool, so uh, what're you having?" He scared of the answer, if you decide to be honest—which you don't.

"I was thinking tacos, maybe, I haven't decided."

"Nice," Carmy chuckles, "so none of that girl dinner shit? No orange slices and string cheese?" Carmy can almost picture it as the words come to mind, the plate of horrors he'd witnessed not a week before. There's silence over the phone, and Carmy can hear you heave a sigh, loud and final, as you come to terms with your lie. You don't say anything, though, so Carmy fills the space.

"I'm coming home t'night," he whispers into the receiver, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he adjusts his apron. "Me, you and the tacos, okay?"

His voice is so gentle, the affection dripping from the words like honey, and he's truly never spoken to someone with as much care. It scares him sometimes, just how much he loves you.

"Carmy, I make the worst fucking tacos." Your smile is hidden within the sentence, and it reaches Carmy like a wave washing the sand, though you're so far from him right now.

"Yeah, I uh, I know. That's why I'm cooking." The kitchen is starting to get loud outside Carmy's office door, and he knows he has to get out there soon to save whatever is left of the peace.

"You don't have to do that, Carm," you exhale, and he can almost picture you, leaning against the kitchen bench, strands of hair loose that, if he was with you, he would be dying to push back into place.

"I want to." He means it, the words he says. "You're important to me, and I want you to know that. I do."

Carmy doesn't know it, but you're grinning on the other end of the line, blood rushing to your cheeks at the thought of his affection. His love.

"Okay." You whisper, "you're important to me too, Carm."

That means everything to Carmy, and he's so desperate to hold onto this, so desperate to not mess this all up. Not after Claire.

"I love you." It's unusual for him to say it first, but he does this time, and his voice soothes any stress you might have. He can hear you smile when you speak again and knows he'll be thinking about the sound of your words for the rest of the day.

"Love you too, bear, see you tonight."

CARMEN BERZATTO TAGLIST: @thrutheburnout @norriebunny @yeschefthankyouchef

THE BEAR TAGLIST: @live-love-be-unique

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answer2jeff · 4 months

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' treat me tonight '

a/n: this is (debatably) some of the best smut i've ever written but i'm still new to the field ! give ya girl some suggestions if desired.

song : i know we could be so happy baby.

warnings : fluffy smut, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), piv sex (unprotected), both reader and carmen have a bit of a praise kink, brief hairpulling, the "L-word," established relationship, gets a little rough towards the end, back scratching, porn with no real plot. not proofread

word count: 2.6k+

MDNI : i am not responsible for your media consumption.

NSFW under the cut — last warning!

"Try it," Carmen cupped your jaw as he lifted the wooden spoonful of creamy, tomato soup to your mouth, thumbing your bottom lip gently so you could carefully swallow every last bit. He enjoyed feeding you, if he was being totally honest. Even if this had been upon your request. Making his girl happy with what he did best was nothing short of a blessing to him.

"Mmm," you hummed in amusement, swallowing before smiling contently and nodding your head. "'S great, Carmy. Fuckin' delicious."

Long days at work dealing with insensitive clientele and immature coworkers seemed to be so easily remedied by Carmen's cooking. You weren't sure if it was because it was him catering to you and loving you the one way he always knew how, or if the food was just that fucking amazing. Maybe a little bit if both.

"Yeah? Alright," he chuckled a bit, grabbing the ladle beside the pot and scooping the simple, yet beautifully crafted tomato soup into a ceramic bowl. He seemed to know exactly how you liked it, despite him asking you if you enjoyed it every. single. time.

You accepted the bowl with a sickly sweet smile on your face, giving Carmen a kiss on his clean shaven cheek to thank him for his gesture before hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen counter. Carmen just stood with his arms crossed against his chest as he leaned against the dining table, candidly watching you enjoy the warm bowl of soup

"So," you slurped some of the soup as you paused, "I'm thinkin' of giving Syd that top we found the other day."

Thrifting had become of recent liking to you anD Carmen. Just shopping and mooching around Chicago in search of vintage pieces. Mostly to actually wear, but partly to collect or regift to fellow friends. Last time you two had a day off, you found a beautiful vintage button down. A white base with downward blue stripes with a finely stitched breast pocket containing a 'V' pattern. The cuffs were cinched perfectly. It was a little baggy, too, which you knew Sydney would love.

"Ooh, yeah. I, uh, I really liked that. I think she'd really love it," Carmen nodded, "You gonna get 'er somethin' else with it? Like, to pair with it? Or just the shirt?"

"I was gonna ask you to help me with that, actually," you pointed a finger to Carmen, turning away for just a moment to gently place the empty bowl and spoon into the kitchen sink.

Carmen always thought you had a good eye for other people's tastes. Not just in fashion. The world seemed unpredictable to Carmy. But you made it look so easy, so loving to just know what people wanted. He always wished he had that kind of understanding for people. But for now, he'd admire such a trait you had.

"Hm?"

"I remember she mentioned something about having all these cool tops n' jackets and such, but, like—hardly any nice pants other than those fuckin' jeans she loves."

"Mhm," he stepped closer to you and planted his hands on your shoulders. But you soon reached for them and planted them on your hips, earning a little upward curl of his lip.

"I know you loved those nice jeans like they were your babies 'till you had to sell them," you frowned, entangling your fingers in his messy, blonde curls while your other hand rested on the back of his neck.

"Fuck, I know. Really wish I didn't have to," he tried to let out a breathy laugh to compensate for the genuine disappointment.

Fuck, did he love those pants. Pants were the one piece of fashion Carmen didn't have to second guess himself on. From jeans to slacks, he knew how to pair every possible fabric. And he never knew how to flatter the upper half of his body, so he always wore those dammed white t-shirts.

Not that you were complaining.

Especially right now, the t-shirt highlighting his broad shoulders and exposing his thick arms plastered with sentimental tattoos you always loved. You began to run your hands up and down the exposed skin. He glanced down at your patterned touch, flattered.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, anyway, I need you to help me look for a nice pair of jeans for Sydney. Can y'do that for me, hun?"

Carmen nodded rapidly, his eyes drifting from your lips and back into your eyes. His thumbs rubbed intricate little circles of adoration into your thighs.

"Yeah, baby," he smiled. "This weekend, maybe? I can take a couple hours," tilting his head, he held your chin to pull your face just inches away from his own. Something about your tendencies to make the ones you loved happy with little surprises just warmed him.

"Mhm. That works," you sighed, planting a soft kiss on his lips before wrapping your arms around his neck.

Carmens immediate suggestion just struck something in you. Months ago, he would've thrown excuse after excuse (although valid) as to when he couldn't be available, but never when he could. You felt proud of him.

"You're so good to me, Carmen."

"Yeah?"

He was learning. He was loving.

"Mhm," you barred your bottom lip behind your teeth, giving Carmen's arms a squeeze. He exhaled sharply and wondered where this could've been going.

You drove him a little crazier than he ever liked to admit. A delicate hand reached away from your hip and up to your face. He thumbed your bottom lip, the reflection of the kitchen light shining against your mouth that was glossy with a mix of both of your salivas. Carmen gazed at you in awe, a little embarrassed when he realized how long he'd been staring.

"I—" he shrugged, struggling to find the words, "I'd do it all for you, baby."

Whispering back as he began to cave in, he leaned into your neck and placing an opened mouth kiss on the skin. The smell of your perfume and the natural scent of your body was so familiar to him. It distracted him enough to let his hands roam up and down your torso before repeating that same motion on your thighs.

"Want you t.." you swallowed, your eyes shutting harshly when when he sucked a bruising hickey onto your skin.

"Want me to what, sweet girl?" Carmen mumbled, the butterflies in your stomach raging when his teeth grazed against the spot. You gently anchored your hand into his hair and pulled him away from your neck so you could see him again.

"Want you to treat me tonight," you whispered as your hands travled up to his shoulders.

He wished you could be more specific. But with your pretty eyes, your kiss-swollen lips, your thighs spread against the cold marble counter as they spilled out of your cotton shorts, how could he tease you any longer?

"That I can do."

—

Carmens body seemed to loosen up and relax as his rough hand slid down lower on your back to grab at the waistband of your shorts. You practically melted to his touch. He kissed you again, smiling against your lips as you giggled into the kiss once he slid your shorts down to your ankles. You nodded when he pulled away, ensuring him that he was on the right track.

"Need you t'spread, baby," his hand pried between your soft thighs.

"O—okay," You bit the inside of your cheek as you slowly spread your legs apart. The wet spot of arousal in the middle of your panties was completely in view now. Feeling Carmen's eyes drifting downward, you accidentally drew your knees closer together again.

"Hey," Carmen whispered while he looked into your eyes for an answer, despite your gaze being glued to the floor.

"You okay? We don't have to do thi—"

"No, no," you shook your head, "I want to. Just..not used to it. That's all."

It was true. You'd only tried oral about twice. And it went great, you couldn't deny. But you still struggled to literally open yourself up to him. You just needed a little encouragement.

"You don't have to hide, baby. You look—you are beautiful," he kissed your forehead, "so, so beautiful. Okay?"

Finally feeling some reassurance, you tried again. You spread your legs once again and let Carmen peel your soaked panties down your legs to where your shorts had been. He gave you one last look to see if you were ready, to which you happily nodded.

In the sweetest gesture, Carmen removed his own t-shirt so you wouldn't be alone. He unbuttoned his jeans and tossed them somewhere near the dining table, being left in just his boxers that outlined his slowly hardening cock.

"Thank you," you chuckled.

"Of course."

Carmen began trailing kisses from your neck down to your shoulder blade. His hands gently lifted your tank top over your head before cupping one of your breasts, his fingertips playing with your hard nipple as he kissed you one last time. He sank down to his knees, hooking your calves over his shoulders. You scooted a little closer to the edge of the counter to give him the best access to your throbbing cunt.

"Yep. Right here, baby."

He had you exactly where he wanted you.

You finally looked down at him after avoiding direct eye contact for the past few minutes. His blue eyes fully encapsulated you. He looked gorgeous between your thighs. Especially when he sucked little hickeys that wouldn't actually last against your inner thighs that made you squirm.

"You look pretty like this, bear," your hand reached to brush a loose curl out of his face. The flush that colored his pale cheeks was cute.

"You think so?" Carmen grinned. He relished in the feeling of having such gentle yet everlasting control. In his own kitchen, his beautiful girl in his hands, her thighs around his head, fully willing and wanting to let him take every part of her he could ever imagine.

You were nothing short of perfect to him.

Not wanting to waste any more time, and without preamble, he licked a bold stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit. Your breath hitched in your throat when his grip on your thighs tightened. He started to create a sense of rhythm, roughly sucking on the sensitive mound of nerve endings before soothing it with kitten licks and flat-tongued strides.

Your hand tugged at a handful of his curls. He groaned at the sensation, swirling his tongue around you to feel every fucking inch of your pussy.

"Fuck, Carmy..."

"You got the prettiest pussy, baby. So good and wet for me," he mumbled against you, his eyes still remaining closed. He needed to focus, or else he might fall apart at the sight of pure, filthy pleasure on your pretty face.

"Shut up—" you protested.

Your thighs began to shake as your head reeled back. Carmen hesitated for a moment, wiggling his fingers around anxiously before pulling his mouth away from your vulva and ever so carefully slipping in 2 large fingers.

A long, drawn out moan escaped your mouth the moment he curled his fingers upward into your g-spot. The idea of staying quiet was out of the fucking question. Oh, and now that Carmen's tongue was back on you? Forget it.

"Oh my fucking g—fuck!" you smacked your hand over your mouth, your other hand still entangled in your lovers hair. Pulling and tugging and earning the sexiest groans you'd ever heard in your life.

The sound of your voice slowly raising in pitch was enough for Carmen to change his pace. He inched himself even closer, and at an otherworldly speed flicked his tongue repeatedly against your clit. Over. And over. And over again. But his fingers slowed down to avoid overstimulating you. He needed this to last. Blissfully.

The knot in your stomach that indicated your teeter against your orgasm taunted you.

"Carm, I'm—" you took a short breath moaning incohereant babbles along the lines of 'so fuckin' good, just like that, baby' until you blurted, "I'm probably not gonna last any longer..'S too much."

You'd grown so desperate to cum that your hips ground back and forth, the tip of Carmens tongue perfectly brushing against your sensitive clit while he used the hand that was once fucking you to squeeze the fat of your breast. With his other hand, he reached down to palm his throbbing cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. He pulled his erection out from the cloth and stroked himself slowly, the final moan of "fuck," shortly followed by your name before he harshly sucked on your clit once more, was enough to throw you over the edge.

"Oh, fuck, Carmy!"

After the last couple minutes of him practically making out with your pussy, your body finally allowed itself to release, your legs shaking vigourisly as you tried desparately to catch your breath. You could literally feel a pulse-like sensation on your clit from the orgasm.

It was dirty, filthy; cumming on Carmen's pretty face right on top of his kitchen counter.

But fuck, was it hot.

—

"You think you got another one left in there for me, baby?" Carmen cooed, wrapping your legs around his hips and drawing you in so close that your breasts were pressed against his bare chest. He peppered kisses along your jaw until he resided on your lips, his tongue slipping in to create a sloppy, passionate mess of a kiss.

His clothed hard-on pressed against your clit, which was nearly fully recovered, lacking the overwhelming sensitivity it had just a couple minutes ago.

"Maybe you should find out," you teased against his ear, nipping at the skin of his neck right underneath. You gently pressed your hand against his chest, backing him up just the slightest bit so you could slip his pre-cum soaked boxers with ease.

Without another thought, Carmen carefully lined himself up with your pussy. The head of his dick passed between your folds to build anticipation. Your hands gripped his shoulders, slippery with sweat, once he finally began to push his raw cock into your hole, your arousal serving as a perfect lubricant.

"Fuck," he rasped as he watched his cock disappear into your pussy in awe "so fuckin' tight for me. So pretty n' perfect."

The two of you hardly waited to allow every thrust and slap of skin against skin get messy and rough. With Carmen desperately needing to cum and you anxiously needing to feel him inside of you, there wasn't much consideration for a slow fuck.

"Fuck me, Carmen."

With that, Carmen dug his hands into your hips and pulled several inches out of you before slamming back in. You somehow moaned louder every time. His face contorted to pure, ravenous pleasure and lust as moan and groan after groan writhed from his throat. Your nails clawed at his back, earning a "shit," and his teeth sinking into your shoulder as you ground back and forth against him to achieve the perfect thrusting angle.

"I love you," he whimpered, fucking whimpered his adoration for you. He was completely pussy drunk, his thrusts turning fast and short unlike they were when they started out.

Those words made your heart pound in your head. Sure, you'd exchanged 'I love you's' during the last year or so of your relationship, but you couldn't recall a time it was said during rough-kitchen-counter-sex.

"I love you so fuckin' much, Carm," you sobbed in a fit of utter horniness and overwhelming sense of pleasure, feeling Carmen's thick cock and squeezing your warm, gummy walls around him.

"I'm gonna cum, angel, I—"

"I know, baby. Go ahead. W-want you to fill me up."

Almost as if the universe had been working specifically in your favor, you managed to reach your orgasm just seconds before he did. Every drop of your arousal went down his thigh, while his cum perfectly filled up your cunt. He pulled out slowly watching the white and sticky semen drip down your hole.

"Was that your idea of me 'treating you' tonight?"

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #the bear smut #jeremy allen white #ugh i love him #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader smut #the bear x reader #i actually love how this turned out

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sunflowersteves · 9 months

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can you write about carmy & readers first time after getting engaged 🥹

omg omg omg fiancé carmy just does it for me ok? and ik for a fact that the man wouldn’t wait once you got home. also I couldn’t find a picture of the ring I wanted so just pretend.

warnings || fluff, established relationship, SMUT, soft sex, riding, mention of oral sex, 18+ only

masterlist

You looked down at the small diamond ring that was garnished with two rubies on a sparkling gold band.

You were smiling so brightly that your cheeks started to desperately ache. The stones glistened, and you felt in awe as your chest fluttered with adoration.

Your admiration for the ring had stopped as Carmen’s voice rang through your ears. “Are you sure you like it?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed and head down, looking at the delicious food he had made. His left leg was bouncing up and down as the thoughts piled one over the other.

Carmen had asked you that same question about four to five times now. He asked you once after you said yes, two in the car ride, and one while walking up the stairs of your apartment complex.

Despite your reassurance—sometimes too much in a daze of staring at your hand to realize he had even asked you a question—Carmen still couldn’t quite get it into his head that you said yes.

It was as if his head was still in a jumbled mess—still sweating and knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. His heart couldn’t stop thumping against his chest, and anxiety-filled thoughts rushed over another. The nagging feeling that he doesn’t deserve this and that he doesn’t deserve you had taken over his brain.

His entire speech happened in such a blur with his stuttering sentences and shaky voice. He watched as your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you shouted, “Yes!” It took him a moment to realize your response—his eyes slowly blinking with his mouth parted open to then at lightning speed getting up off of the ground and crashing you into a hug. It just all felt so real.

You stand up from your end of the table and walk over to him, taking the spoon that he’s frantically tapping in his hand out from his reach. “Baby,” You coo, pressing your palm against his cheek.

It was the most obvious thing in the world to you. You couldn’t stop staring at it since he put it on your ring finger, but you knew that he just needed a little encouragement to swat those thoughts away. “What’s going on?”

Carmen had proposed. Richie had called you saying there was an emergency at The Bear. Of course, he failed to mention that everyone was okay. You rushed to the restaurant in a frenzy, grabbing the bare minimum and speeding down the highway roads.

When you arrived, you practically jumped out of the car and ran inside. Your brain had thought of the worst possible outcomes—a burned-down restaurant and hurt people. It was sending you into a spiral.

But then, your heart stopped at the view in front of you. This time, the thumping of your heart was pure elation (minus the mental note to yell at Richie later). The entire restaurant had been closed, and a small candle-lit table had been set up—rose petals trailing across the concrete floors.

Carmen and Richie were arguing but they didn’t see you quite yet. “You didn’t even fucking tell her anything?” Carmen huffed.

Richie just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “No, you fuckin’ bitch. I just said there was an emergency.”

Carmen’s hands exploded around him, an unlit cigarette between his middle and index finger. “Are you fucking serious right now, cousin? She’s probably freaking the fuck out—an emergency? Fuck—” Richie just rolled his eyes and shrugged, but then his eyes locked with yours and a huge smile spread across his lips. The rest went in a blur, and before you know it, Carmen got down on one knee.

“I-I just—I don’t know. I wanna make sure that I’m doing this right.” His eyes finally look into your own. Your heart just about stops at the sadness that’s swimming through them.

“Carmy, baby,” You moved his chair back, wooden legs sliding against the hardwood floor. You climbed onto his lap, legs on either side of him. You pressed a hand to his chest, and you gently rubbed your thumb against his soft, white t-shirt.

His hands rest on your hips, and they squeeze the soft, plushy flesh. He let out a content sigh, some of the anxiety already dissipating from his thoughts.

He wants everything perfect, just for you. The irony of it all is that you do think everything’s perfect. Everything is always perfect with him.

“Let me see, bebita.” Tina couldn’t stop smiling, taking a glance over at you staring at your ring. You were waiting for Carmen to finish talking with Natalie before leaving the restaurant. Tina had found you, staring happily at your finger.

She cursed under her breath, eyes widening.“Ay, coño—” She continued to watch the small diamonds sparkle underneath the kitchen lights.

Then, she smiled. She looked at you, and she had the biggest smile on her face. You make Carmen so happy, and he knows he makes you happy.

She was truly excited for her friends. “You know, this was Mikey’s ring. It was their grandmother’s or some shit, but—” She pauses, smiling right at you. “It was definitely his.”

Your eyes widened, mouth agape. “What?”

“You’re perfect.” You say, looking into his ocean eyes. “You’re doing everything right.”

He searches for something. He searches for anything. Any doubt, guilt, lying—literally anything. He continues to stare at your beautiful face, looking from the plump of your cheeks to the curve of your lips.

His eyes look back up to yours. Nothing. He found nothing but pure love and adoration between your irises. He choked out a sound. It was garbled and whimpering. It made your heart clench.

“Carmen—” Before you could even react, his lips devoured yours. You gasped against him before melting completely, hands going into his messy hair. His hands scaled your body in a passionate frenzy, desperation hitting his gut to pull you even closer to him.

You moaned against him as his tongue pushed through your lips and into your mouth, swirling and tangling with one another. His hand went to cup your cheek; it was so gentle and sweet—the action made affection swirl in your chest.

He parts from you, only for a moment. “Please. I need—I need to be inside you.” Another breath-stealing kiss, lips molding against yours. “You’re so—you’re so perfect, baby. N-need you.” He pants out.

“Fuck, Carmy.” Your hands move to fumble with his belt. He continues to kiss you, lips smearing against your jaw and chin. Jittery, your hands bumble around and finally find the button to his pants. You shuffle them down his thighs, letting out a moan at the sight of a bulge in his boxers.

“Carmy—” You whine. His fingertips graze your shoulder and lift the spaghetti strap of your dress. “Please.” You feel dazed and desperate. You feel a burning sensation sprout from your chest, and it ignites across your entire being.

He helps you out of your dress, and his hands fumble with the back of your bra. Meanwhile, you’re also fumbling with getting his boxers off. The position of sitting in the chair had made this much more difficult. “Baby, fuck.”

“Need you, Carmy.” You whine. It caused him to smirk down at you. Eventually, the two of you get all of your clothes off, discarding them somewhere on the floor. You were still straddling his thighs—kisses so sweet and passionate that they tingled against your lips.

His cock was hard, leaking with some pre-cum, and it made you shudder. His eyes were half-lidded as he stared at you with hazy eyes. You position him to your entrance and slowly sink into him.

You both moan against one another, breathing in each other’s presence. Carmen’s head rolls against your shoulder, biting down at the clench of your walls. You start to ride him—hips rolling against his own.

“Gonna—fuck—gonna make you my wife.” He breathes out. He watches the way you slick smears against his thighs and the way he disappears into your tight cunt. You loudly moaned against him at the affirmation of his—making you even wetter than before.

“Wanna—wanna be your wife, Carmy.” You whispered against his soft skin. His lips lower to the perky bud of your nipple and swirled his tongue around the sensitive area. “Want—fuck me—want you to be my husband.”

You could feel his cock twitch at your words. His lips revert their way to where he really wants them—your lips. You whimpered at the feeling of him pushing you further.

The hand on your back was rough from calluses. The new position made you whine and cry, Carmen whispering sweet, sweet praises. “Doin’ so good for me, baby. My–my fuckin’ girl. Look at you, so-so good. Gonna make you my wife. My fucking wife.”

His words are what send you over the edge—the sweet praises and confirmations of his love became too much. “C’mon, pretty girl. Let go for me. Be a good girl and let go.”

With a loud moan, your walls spasm around his cock and gush all over him. You’re screaming his name like a prayer that won’t leave your lips. Your legs shake, unwilling to move any longer. He’s whispering to you again and again, but this time you weren’t listening.

He was on the verge of an orgasm too, but there was a bigger, more primal need for him to do first. He watched as you slowly slid out of him and he started to press gentle kisses across your shoulder and neck.

He watches your eyes slowly come back to him, and he waits. “I love you, baby.” He says, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“I love you too, lovebug.” You say, a lazy smile curling your lips. You look down to see his hard cock against your thigh. You open your mouth to say something—wanting to take care of him, but he stops you with a shake of his head.

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna eat you out. I need to taste you. I-I—” He stutters through his words, and the desperation settles on his chest. He needs to taste you on his tongue. He needs to hear the sweet sounds that escape your mouth as he eats his favorite meal.

“Carmen. Fuck, yes.”

The first night of being Fiancée’s with one another was going to be a very long night.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #the bear smut #the bear #smut

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gh0stsp1d3r · 9 months

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Ooo imagine Carmy and his assistant (now also holding the girlfriend title) at work, and Carmy is like, “Hey baby- Eheh Y/n…” lol as Richie and the staff overhear and are like “😏”… Then Carmy’s like, “Anyways, uh- Bab-Y/n, remind me to call the refrigerator guy to fix the ha-“ Y/n: “Already done, Bear!” And he’s like, “Oh, okay, thank you! Did we get the prod-“ “Produce will be delivered today!” Lol and he keeps listing things that need to be done, but Y/n is on top of EVERYTHING, like Carm asks, “When is the food critic supposed to be he-“ and she immediately responds (before he finishes), “Next Friday at 2!” Anyways, the staff are all watching this exchange and can just can see how Carmy is literally about to explode, not in anger like he does a lot at work, but in love hehe, and he does burst… Suddenly he blurts out, “I f-ing LOVE YOU!” And Y/n is just standing there, absolutely stunned, the staff are all like “😲🤭” Carmy about to backtrack his words until Y/n dreamily says, “I love you too, Bear!”

Cue the staff TEASING THE ABSOLUTE CRAP out of them shshs, especially about how whipped Carmy is

I love this LMFAOOO 😭 also I was rewatching for fun and I forgot how much Carmy stressed me tf out

Back to work

“Hey, Remind me to call the guy later to fix the refrigerator handle. That last guy did not do it well.” He said.

“Already called. He said he’d be in later.” You said quickly, he flipped some pages and turned his chair back to you.

“Oh.. thanks. Uh, what about that delivery-“

“It’ll be delivered tomorrow morning.” You said with a small smile, leaning against the doorway.

He raised his eyebrows and hit his spoon that was in his hand against his thigh, thinking.

“What about that food critic-“

“Probably around Saturday.”

He stared blankly, and he couldn’t think of anything else.

Richie, Sydney, Tina, Marcus and Ebra all watched this happen with smiles and Richie recording it all.

He stayed silent for a little, suddenly standing up and cupping your cheeks you looked confused as he leaned in and kissed your lips, making you very confused but you kissed him back anyways.

The 5 chefs watched in amusement, and Richie was definitely saving this to make fun of him later.

“I fucking love you.” He mumbled when he pulled away, making you laugh quietly, which made him just kiss you again.

“I love you too.” You mumbled when you both pulled away, your foreheads touching when Richie clapped slowly and Carmen immediately went away from you and folded his arms as if nothing had happened.

“Cousin I just hope you know that was fucking hilarious, and I recorded the wholeee thing.” He held up his phone.

“You’re whipped, Jeff.” Tina teased.

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you guys have work to do?”

They all stared at him. “Back to work!” He shouted, they all quickly nodded and did so while you giggled.

#the bear #the bear fx #carmy x you #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #jeremy allen white x reader #jeremy allen white

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rassvetsky · 1 year

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would literally lose my fucking mind if you wrote carmy like touch starved, idk maybe everyone is staying after to celebrate something and he’s dragging you into his office to eat you out with absolutely zero shame because he needs it so bad

your wish is my lifelong quest i love you, hope i did it at least some justice loml

Carry You Away With Me

carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader

He looked sheepish for a moment, lips curling into a grin for another split second before returning to his natural expression, eyes finding yours and locking you into his gaze. "Do you think anyone would notice if I took you elsewhere right now?"

[4k] | chef ill be honest with you this is just porn, needy!carmy (he's fucking adorable), office sex if that's even a term, established relationship, cunningulus, unprotected sex, cum-play. my apologies to the church

reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback much appreciated! not proofread.

It was around 11 when you returned to the restaurant with a bottle of champagne cradled in your arms, watching as Gary and Tina pushed a few tables together to make a bigger one for the rest. Eating together wasn't a rare occurrence, but it often only happened an hour before service in the morning— dinners were mostly had at home or skipped altogether, depending on the importance one put into their health. But tonight called for an after-hours get-together, one that Sydney and Marcus pushed for when Ebraheim showed up in the morning with the latest issue of Gastronomica, featuring a very familiar name this time around— Carmen Berzatto.

"You know— I bet you can like, make it to a Vogue issue sometime later on, too."

"That's not exactly food-related."

"I'm just saying, dream high and—"

The few clinks of a spoon against the glass cut Fak right off and Carmen made a mental note to thank god for that later on, his gaze lifting from the long, full table that everyone was surrounding to the source of the sound; the now-empty champagne glass that Richie held.

"Can we all take a moment to stop stuffing our faces with this whatever-the-fuck it is to congratulate my cousin right here?" he spoke up, bringing a smile to your lips as you reached for Carmen's hand from under the table and muttered out "chou à la crème", another dish that Marcus had been experimenting with lately. A short chuckle left Carmen's lips when he vaguely heard what you said, and he gave your hand a firm, appreciative squeeze before rubbing his thumb along the back of your palm. "Gastronomica isn't just any magazine. I think it's supposed to be one of the good ones, like—"

"—the Vogue of food!"

"Maybe! Who knows, anyway— really, I'm proud of this mess of a man and you all should be, too." and maybe this was the most affection that Richie could whip out in public, but it was more than enough— because despite his hate for having the spotlight directly on him, Carmen was currently busy offering a smile to Richie, which the other reciprocated shortly before sitting back down, his quiet little hum of affection drowned out by the mutterings of 'cheers' along with the clink of everyone's glasses.

Proud was an understatement for this little dysfunctional found-family.

But you knew Carmen, you knew that he'd much rather skip on the compliments and pats to the shoulder; and you were way too sure that he'd need a moment to himself sooner or later. That moment came almost fifteen minutes after, when everyone split themselves into a few groups of completely different conversations, scooped up chocolate sauce and cream and small pieces of the delicate pastry got left behind on the empty plates— you felt Carmy's fingers wrapping around your upper thigh, concealed by the dimmed out lights and the table.

"S'up?" you returned your attention to him upon feeling his fingers tapping along to some nonexistent rhythm on your clothed skin, not too invested in the story Richie was busy telling everybody with the loudest voice he could muster to begin with.

"Elsewhere?"

"Not too far, jus' my office. For a couple of minutes at most." he leaned in closer to your ear just so you could hear him over the 2012's pop playlist Manny whipped out earlier, a completely mesmerizing turn of events when he started singing along to a random Katy Perry song— but that leaning closer action proved Carmen to be just another self-saboteur because he was feeling specifically out of place all day and to feel your perfume so close was a pull with a force out of this world. He couldn't pull back away then, couldn't return to his own chair and you had no choice but to push him away manually. "I promise."

"Any ulterior motives I should be aware of?" you grinned, letting your fingers curl right over his own on your thigh— and making a mental note to ease him into the habit of using hand moisturizers regularly sometime, upon the roughed up feel of his skin.

"You wound me, baby." his expression seemed to linger over offense, but his eyes told a completely different story; and before you knew it, he was pushing his chair back to get up, patting Gary's shoulder on his way to the back of house, a momentary turn of his head just so he could silently tell you to follow with his eyes.

And that, you did, despite the raised eyebrows of Richie's that you met along the way.

The kitchen smelled like a different kind of citrus, one that only belonged in dishwashing detergents as you maneuvered through the stations, cleaned up from the day's worth of filth. From your peripheral vision, you noticed Carmen reaching behind to undo the strings of his navy apron, leaving out the top string that he'd have to pull over his head until you could catch up and he could get to the office. His shirt was, again, as pristine as ever and it was a work of magic how he managed to come back home with a perfectly clean white t-shirt each day, if not for a few little drops here and there.

Finally, he pushed open the door of his office for you and you stepped in, finding your way to his desk in the darkness to flip the switch of the small light that illuminated the paperwork mostly. When your eyes found him again, the apron was long gone— tucked away in a corner, folded, although not so neatly. "Happy now?"

Instead of a reply, he just plopped down on the old, squeaky chair by the desk, thighs spread and arms wide open to make space for you. You took the offer right away, seating yourself on one of his thighs but still balancing yourself on your feet too, in order to not just dump your whole body weight on him and potentially numb out his leg. He couldn't care less, as he wrapped himself around you tightly and pulled you closer. "I don't really give a shit about Gastronomica."

"I figured," you mumbled against the material of his shirt, lungs filling in with a scent that only he could carry— a surprisingly pleasant mix of cigarettes, sweat, and gravy. It belonged to him, at least. "When's the last time you gave a shit about anyone's opinion outside of here, anyway?"

A soft hum left his lips, one that feigned agreement— but he wasn't paying much attention to what you've been saying to begin with, mind all muddied with specific moments in time that included you. Come to think of it, he'd been like this all day, even when Richie jokingly smacked him across the face with the magazine or when Tina elbowed him while he was trying to explain why she had to strain the mixture twice to get a flowing consistency— on the back of his mind, there was always you; always the lack of time he got to spend with you when the rush hour got too much to bear and he couldn't bring himself to lift an arm when he came back home to you.

When was the last time he properly touched you, took his time to memorize all the little ridges and beauty spots across your body, he couldn't remember.

So as you spoke, listing out all the reasons why he should be proud of himself for all the accomplishments, Carmen's arm curled around your waist and his fingers found your thighs again, the warmth of his palm seeping through the material of your leggings and from the way they teased upwards, you knew where this was going. "... that you managed to turn— are you not listening?"

His smile was so smug that you wanted to either kiss, or slap him. "Not really. But go on."

"Carmy, if you actually think that I'll do anything non-churchy with you here while everyone's literally twenty feet away, you're so wrong." you breathed out, because that's all you could do when his lips ghosted over the side of yours, before trailing down to where your jawline met your neck. He only hummed as a reply, clearly not giving a shit about your opinion either at that moment— but to say that you weren't enjoying the attention would be a blatant lie.

His fingertips traced the seams outlining your underwear through the extra layer of fabric while his lips latched to your neck, finally, with his warm breath hitting against the sensitive skin and the usual wet nature of his kisses leaving behind a glistening spot of adoration. You leaned into it, rather shamelessly— legs parting and fingers carding through the locks on the nape of his neck, and that only encouraged him further, causing him to whisper out a curse and a few sloppy words of praise. "Just let me, hm? Please?"

The sense of desperation in his tone was enough to push back any words of disagreement that you could blurt out at that moment. You knew you had to power through, it would be so embarrassing and disrespectful to let him have his way with you right here, while everyone else was still at the FOH— but the way his palm covered your clothed core and his fingertips teased the slight outline of your slit, all while his pretty lips were oh so busy whispering absolute filth in your ear was slowly taking away all the care you had in the world. "Carm— not a good idea."

"You weren't saying that last week, right here," two weeks ago, to be exact, but you couldn't blame him for not being able to tell time apart. "Had to cover your mouth and all, s'loud for me—"

"You're getting carried away." you chuckled, the deepest of breaths still not enough for the capacity of your lungs as you tugged on his locks slightly, prying him off of your skin just so you could get a look at him.

"Let me carry you away with me. Please, fuck— I can't think of anything else when you're on my mind." he pulled away a little from your neck, eyes of pristine skies staring right at your soul with the expression of a kicked puppy— he knew exactly how to get his way when he was miserable like that. His fingers were still against your heat, expecting permission. "Ten minutes only, just let me touch you."

You could recognize that tone, that incurability way too well— it was often reserved for nights shared between hushed whispers of promises, where he was too needy to form a single thought and all he could do was to cover your body with his and curl onto you, to feel your warmth against himself and to be one body and one soul for an hour. Uncommon in nature, even rarer to take place in a room that he reserved for professional affairs only— but the heart wants what it wants.

To his surprise, you suddenly pushed your lips against his— letting his fever take over you as well, with your hands clutching onto his shoulders and hair. You could hear the slight groan escaping his lips when his fingers breached under the tight waistband of your leggings, pushing the material down slightly with the bend of his wrist before turning his hand a little to tug it all downwards, urging you up on your feet. You got up from where you were seated, now standing between his legs with your back bent just so your lips would be on his, but he broke the kiss with a smile that took over when he finally pulled down both articles of clothing at the same time. Your back straightened when he managed to push them both down to your ankles, your hands on his shoulders to help with your balance as you stepped out of them, feeling his moist lips over your abdomen for a second before he pushed you backwards slightly, towards the desk.

He took that momentary advantage to get up on his feet and pin you right in between his own body and the desk, hands blindly pushing the loose folders to the side. You felt too exposed when his palms gripped the underside of your thighs just to prop you up on the desk, lips finding and panting against yours, a clear indication of his need seeping through the way he tugged and nibbled before his tongue found its way to caress yours.

There was nothing nice about it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care— not when he whispered your name against the plush of your lips so sweetly when your fist closed around his hair, not when he didn't even know what to do with his hands; grabbing, fondling at every inch of your skin that he could reach shakily. He pulled you flush against his body, letting you get a feel of the harsh dark denim against your bare center and you had to bite into his lower lip to stay quiet, ultimately earning a groan from him when his hands slipped under your shirt.

"Bear," you whispered out, his lips chasing yours when you pulled away to speak— which made you chuckle quietly, as he looked at you again. "Ten minutes."

"Ten minutes," he parroted, the usually wide eyes of his now hooded, pupils blown out as if he was looking right at the sun. When you reached in to kiss him again, you couldn't catch him fast enough— he was already holding onto your thighs to crouch down, looking up at you with a Cheshire grin when you spread your legs a little further apart, a force of habit.

Leaning back on your palms against the desk as much as the cramped space could allow, you took a deep breath— but it wasn't enough to prepare you for what came next when his tongue trailed a bold line across your slit, spreading your folds apart gently. It was a pleasant routine, one that you never quite got used to; because when he was down on his knees with his tongue tracing abstract shapes across your clit in a teasing manner, it was all about you and to think that a guy who often rushed things and went through life at a 2x pace would slow down just to put all of his attention on your pleasure only was more delightful than any compliment one could attain.

Carmen's fingertips were perhaps digging into the skin of your thighs a bit too hard, but could you possibly complain? The tip of his tongue dipped between your folds to spread your essence upwards, a mix of his saliva and your wetness covering your clit when he closed his lips around it and sucked— letting out a blissed groan, one that he'd scold you for if you were the culprit. You could only imagine how hard he must've been at that moment, he was always a sucker for situations like this, with the thrill of doing something so forbidden, right where he could be caught and your taste on his tongue, thighs on either side of his shoulders.

Imagining it didn't help your situation at all, it was hard to focus on one coherent thought when he kept flicking his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves but you forced through— with the thought of the blunt tip of his length all flushed and leaking in your palm, curses leaving his soft lips whenever your fingers got a bit too tight around the girth. He liked it when you put your focus there, tip of your tongue tracing the slit and leaving kisses over it while the rest of your palm jerked him off— firm and slow.

And you'd always let your lips stray when he got close, deciding to suddenly bite into the skin of his inner thighs or to lightly trace his perineum with your tongue, just to have him reduced to a writhing, whining mess with not enough air to survive in his lungs. He'd spill onto your fingers and you'd clean him up right away, moving your way upwards with wet little kisses until you reached his lips. And he was one dirty fucker because tasting himself on you when you kissed him all sloppily was probably one of his favorite things in the world.

Drowned out in all the thoughts, you didn't notice how close you were until your thighs were shaking around his shoulders, and he finally added his fingers into the mix then— his middle and ring fingers easily breaching through, grazing all of your sensitive spots from the inside. You had to press your palm against your mouth to not let a sound then, when your climax finally hit you, and you'd probably slide right off the table with how quaky your whole body was at that moment if it wasn't for Carmen's strong grip on your body, holding you right where you belong.

The position was a bit merciless on his legs so far but he made it up to his feet again, giving you a light peck on your lips before his fingers found his mouth, his tongue circling the digits to clean them up as he stared right at you, into your soul. He pulled them out with a slight pop, and licked his lips clean. "How long did we take?"

"I don't know," you panted out. "I was busy imagining the way you come."

His light laughter brought a tender, yet bittersweet ache to your heart. "Fuck, you get off to that?" and you could tell him all about just how beautiful he was, and how much it turned you on to see him blissed out in pleasure— but you didn't know if your lung capacity allowed for it at that moment, as being quiet came with the benefit of holding your breath for longer than you should. "Tell me more."

You giggled against his lips when he braced himself on the desk with his two hands holding onto the edge on both sides of your thighs. Both of your hands moved down to the front of his pants, too fucked out to care about timing as you palmed him through the material just to see that grin on his lips falter. "I'm gonna make you jack off and watch sometime." you mumbled, slowly pulling the zipper down after setting him free from the belt and the button. He hummed, forehead to forehead, before reaching for another little peck.

"As much as I don't see why I should jack off while you're in front of me," he spoke, a sharp intake of breath cutting his line of thought halfway through when your fingers finally wrapped around his cock. "but— shit, if you're into that… Only if you do it w'me, though. I wanna watch too."

"You don't get to watch." you sighed, bringing him closer with your legs to line his length up with your entrance. "You're just gonna sit there and come on your hand like a loser."

Carmen couldn't help the short snort that left him. "Are you even capable of being mean to me?"

"Mm-hm, I'm very mean when I wanna be." and right after that, his tip slid right into your cavern, pulling a deep exhale from both of you when he pushed a bit deeper. His lips found yours, mostly to keep the noises at bay while his hips rolled into yours, grinding against you before retreating a little, only to push in harder this time around.

You felt so full and blessed that you didn't even have to imagine anything to get lost in the feeling.

His pants slid further downwards with each thrust until they pooled around his ankles and your thighs wrapped tighter around his body, trapping him in. His arms were so delicately wrapped around your waist that you had to hold onto him with your whole remaining power to not slide further towards the wall, but he couldn't exactly notice that when he was feeling so damn lucky, whole length wrapped in a warmth beyond his comprehension.

And again, you couldn't blame him, because neither of you managed to notice when the skin slapping against skin got a bit too loud, and your lips pulled away from his just to breathe out the filthiest little nothings, like how much you needed him to fill you right up to the brim. "Fuck, give it to me." your hips met his thrusts half-way through when you pushed yourself against him. "Carmy, come inside me, please."

"Yeah? Are you gonna take it all?" his voice sounded broken, and his fingers would surely leave imprints on your hips with how tight his grip was. "Won't let you waste a drop, baby. I won't."

Somehow, through how feral he was with the way you were begging him, the responsible side came forward and captured your lips in his again— because while his team was full of respectful people, they were also little shits who would never live it down if they heard those beautiful sounds that escaped your lips with each hit of his blunt head against your sweet spot. The thought somehow egged him on further— he couldn't exactly decide if he was too possessive to let anyone hear or if he was possessive enough to make sure everyone knew he belonged to you, but at that moment, both of those thoughts turned him on too much, enough for him to feel his high approaching. And judging by the way your walls cramped down on him tighter with each passing second, you weren't too far behind.

You could feel yourself gushing around him, coating both of you in your essence beyond simple cleaning, but that was a matter to worry about later, not when the love of your life was balls-deep inside of you, his rough grunts right against your ear when he reached to press his lips right below it. "Close?" he mumbled, and even though your mind was too busy to hear and comprehend him properly, you nodded— feeling his arms wrapping around you tighter, pulling you closer to the warmth his body provided. And while as much as you'd like to keep this going for longer, witnessing his pace falter and voice break as he moaned out your name, filling you up in the most delicious way slowly was enough to have your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure, and to have the knot finally snap.

Your whole body was buzzing, shaky even when he held you so tight against his chest as if you'd vanish right there and then— something that he always did after sex, no matter the circumstance. You giggled wearily against his shoulder, leaving a few kisses here and there before he pulled away slightly to pull you into a kiss— nothing like the ones you shared in the past minutes, this one was all sweet and loving. "Might drip if I pull out."

"You can't stay there forever, Carm."

"Oh, but I want to." he huffed out but still moved to slowly pull out of you anyway, having you both hiss in sensitivity and just like he thought, his come was ready to spill all over the place. Quick-thinker in nature, he caught his seed with his fingers right before they could go further, pushing them back into you just to hear you gasp— and slap his shoulder playfully.

"You're a fucking freak."

"Shut up— round two at my place? Kinda wanna see where that watching me jerk off fantasy of yours might lead us."

a/n: once again i could be easily manipulated into breaking into your house with a part two, who knows

also @carmensberzattos consider this a marriage proposal

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmen berzatto fic #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear fic #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff

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thebearer · 9 months

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omg the part in that one blurb where reader makes a joke about being able to skip a meal and then carmy’s just like tf did you just say is so important to me as someone that has a long (and uneasy) history with body image and healthy eating habits

i was wondering if you had blurb/general thoughts/ideas on how carmy would react to the reader having a harder than usual time with body image for whatever reason

maybe they make one too many jokes or little comments about feeling insecure and carmy’s just not having it lol

carmen, with every ounce of love i have in my heart for him, would not be good with handling that. simply because he understands not liking yourself (like the idea of it, he can't fathom why you don't) but he grew up where food was kind of an act of love. he'd never hear an "i'm sorry" ever in his life, but his mom would very much so be the type to say "i have dinner ready for you" and that was as much as an apology as he'd get.

the first time you're kinda not eating, carmen's like trying to joke with you. "the food not good? don't like it?"

and you assure him that's not it. "i just... i'm not really hungry."

carmen's confused bc you've been together all day and you only had an iced coffee in the morning. "no way." he shook his head. "you haven't eaten all day. if you don't like it, baby, it won't hurt my feelings, i promise. nothin' you can say that a chef in new york didn't say, they said worse too. just tell me what you want and-"

"-carmen, it's ok. it's really good, i'm just not really hungry." you smile. "i need to not eat today anyways. my jeans are so tight-"

"-what?" carmen thinks you're joking at first, brows creasing with a small grin. until he sees your face. "you're-you're being serious?"

"well, kinda..." you mutter.

"that's... don't say that." carmen shook his head. "please, don't-don't do that, that's insane."

your face falls at his tone, you know he doesn't mean to be so hard about it, but you can't help but feel worse, like carmen's mad at you. in a way he is, but not out of anger, out of love. out of not wanting you to hurt yourself like that.

"i just... i feel gross, and i'm starting to look it-"

"- i think you look beautiful." carmen mutters. he sounds hurt, genuinely hurt by what you're saying, like you said them to him. "i don't... i don't like that you do that to yourself." he admitted after a moment. he'd been going to therapy, working on channeling his emotions out when he felt them instead of bottling them in, leading him to an anxiety attack.

"i'm sorry." you whisper, unsure of what else to say.

"no, it's not... i don't want you to apologize or- or feel bad, i just... i felt like i should say it." carmen's eyes lifted to yours. "that you don't need to do that."

you can't help the way your chest rushes with heat, anxiously picking up the spoon in front of you. you're not sure what to say, most of the time, most guys kinda brush it off. act like it's nothing or ignore it- some agreeing. no one ever got... hurt by it like this. like you were hurting them too.

maybe it was the guilt. maybe it was the fact that carmen looked so sad. whatever it was, you weren't sure, but you were fucking hungry- and the pasta was good.

you hesitantly took a bite, ignoring carmen's eyes tracking you. "it is really good." you hum, trying to break the obvious tension in the room.

"you don't have to eat it, i-i don't want you to feel pressured to." carmen shook his head. "but i'll make you something else? could i make you something else? whatever you want."

you blushed, looking down. you knew what he meant. he was trying to help in the only way he knew how to, by cooking. "carmen-" you sigh.

"no, it's... it's not good to not eat, ya know?" carmen looked up at you. "you have to eat but-but if you don't want pasta, i get it. i'll make you whatever if that's what you want." he looked at you pointedly. "but don't ever think you need to do anything like that f'me. i think you're perfect no matter what. love you no matter what. you know that, told you i'd still love you even if you were a worm."

you snorted lightly, his reference to the tiktok trend you'd done on him a while ago. "thanks, bear." you mutter, grabbing his hand lightly. "i-i would like, if it's not too much and you have all the stuff, that greek goddess salad sydney was testing the other day? i've been craving it."

"heard." carmen nodded, standing towards the fridge.

"if it's not too much trouble-"

"-c'mon." carmen scoffed, looking at you sweetly. "it'll take me fifteen minutes max. sit down f'me, alright. i got it."

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juuuulez · 12 days

Text

📰 | dessert.

i can imagine being woken up at ridiculous hours because carmen needs you to try a dish…anyway that’s what this is + domesticity + husband carmy + soft pregnancy vibes.

short and sweet.

You’re lying half-asleep in bed, vaguely tethered to reality by the distant clanging of pots and pans. It isn’t enough to fully wake you, too comfortable buried under the thick blankets, having finally found the perfect position where your stomach doesn’t seem to get in the way.

Which, lately, it’s always in the way.

The door creaks open, and Carmen’s footsteps are quiet, feather-light. He sits down at the edge of the bed, one hand nudging your shoulder, the other guiding a spoon into a little dish he sits on his lap.

The movement rouses you just enough, gaining the smallest inkling of consciousness. It’s in front of your face and pressing against your lips before the awareness can fully set in, velvety chocolate coating your tongue. The taste is thick, yet not overwhelming, somehow both dense and light at the same time. Maybe some sort of mousse.

“That’s.. yeah, ‘s good..” You mumble, eyes blinking open blearily to twist slightly on the bed, moving to face him. The movement causes your shirt to ride up, not bothering to tug it down, despite the slight chill that spreads over your stomach.

Carmen’s hand finds the edge of the duvet, pulling it to cover your body properly. “Good?” He echos. “Just good? C’mon, baby. Gotta give me a bit more than that.”

You suck in a breath, resisting the temptation to fall back asleep, which has amplified now that he’s finally next to you. It has to be around 1am, at this point. Usually, the baby keeps you up, kicking incessantly, but it seems the little bear has finally quietened down. Not Carmy, though.

“I dunno, Carm. I like it,” You sigh, eyes fluttering closed. “It’s good.”

Without your gaze on him, Carmen looks down at the dish, staring into the ceramic bowl like it’s his worst enemy. About a thousand things run through his mind, all with the primary focus being perfecting the desert.

“Yeah, okay..” He’s resigned, already making a move to try and stand. The motion causes you to stir again, a hand blindly fumbling with his wrist to pull it back in.

“No, don’t take it away. I’m not done.” You protest.

The spoon has already been caught between your fingers, and Carmen doesn’t have it in him to stop you. It penetrates the light mixture with ease, scooping another mouthful of the light mousse between your lips.

“It’s not right,” Carmen would say, sounding so utterly defeated. “You don’t have to eat it.”

You simply shrug, having already gone back for the last little piece. “I wanna eat it. I’m hungry.”

The smile threatens to return to Carmy’s face. With the renovations underway, he’s been missing his time in the kitchen. So, he brings it home. Working endlessly on new recipes, testing menu variations, anything to keep his mind running. Maybe the notion of having a child is starting to freak him out a little, so the work serves as a distraction.

“Hungry?” He repeats, “Weren’t you just asleep?”

“Well, I’m awake now. Might as well eat.

It’s a sound argument, and Carmen knows not to push it. He’s just lucky that you’re always so willing to put up with him like this. So, he puts the empty dish down, taking the spoon and laying it on the bedside counter.

He’ll stroke your hair while you chew the last mouthful, your eyes coming to a soft close. There’s some chocolate on your lip, which Carmen swipes off with his thumb, before sucking the digit into his mouth. It doesn’t taste that bad.

“I’ll join you soon.” He promises, leaning down to place a chaste kiss to the same spot. You give a small grunt in response, wanting to persuade him otherwise, but not having the energy to do so.

You’ve already melted back into the pillow, happy and sated with the taste of chocolate on your tongue.

#carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fx #the bear x you #carmen berzatto

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superhoeva · 3 months

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𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 – 𝐜. 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨 (𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, +𝟏𝟖) | starting a new lil thing starring the reader and carmen aka bunny and bear! p.s. happy black history month <3

“can you tilt back a little? don’t wanna pull too hard.”

you oblige carmen’s request silently, skin warming on the spot he plants two quick kisses onto your forehead.

“thank you, bunny,” he mumbles, face fixing back into the concentrated squint from before. his fingers work with a gentle intent as they wind and twist, unweaving one of the braids knotted near the top of your head.

you huff quietly after a few moments, looking away from the criminal minds rerun playing on the television in front of you. it’s an earlier episode, one with gideon because carmen likes the way he thinks.

“you sure i can’t help? i kinda feel bad about making you doing all that by yourself.”

“not making me do anything, baby,” carmen promises. “already told you, i like helping you take down your hair. plus you gotta finish the ice cream. marcus and syd wanna add it to the menu, and i need you to tell me if it’s good enough.”

eyes falling to the bowl in your lap, you stare at the half-eaten bowl of dessert. good enough? it’s incredible. he’s incredible.

“it’s amazing as usual, carmy. but are you sure you don’t want me to do anything?”

carmen’s fingers don’t falter as he speaks. “you’re doing something already: sittin’ there, looking pretty, eatin’ ice cream.”

you huff again. “you know that’s not what i mean, carmen.”

pausing, carmen sniffs and drops the half-unraveled braid. he bends a little, one hand sprawling out against your shoulder while the other delicately swivels your head to look at him.

“hey now,” he coos, interrupting himself by pressing his lips into yours. the kiss is long and his grasp on your face moves, his thumb rubbing sweetly at the spot on your skin. “stop poutin, gorgeous. s’okay. i like doing this. like takin care a’you. my pretty girl.”

your hand settles on his inked forearm. he pecks at your knuckles, nose, and cheek before tilting his head to meet your gaze.

“alright, bunny? you’ll let me finish?”

you think for a moment before nodding. no sense in arguing over the fact he wants to be helpful.

“okay, but only if you eat some of the ice cream with me. you made it, you should at least try some.”

you smile brightly when carmen nods and the urge to kiss you again engrains itself deep inside his stomach. he doesn’t get the chance before you’re lifting your spoon to his mouth.

the two of you share a small laugh as you feed him, carmen shrugging as soon as the cold treat touches his tongue.

“could use more vanilla,” he tells you, mouth still half full. you roll your eyes, thumbing away at the small dot of ice cream on the corner of his lip. “turn back around, yeah? makin way better time than before, might set a new record.”

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x black reader #black!reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #au: the bunny and the bear

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arlowthenacho · 5 months

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that funny feeling

(carmen berzatto x reader)

summary: you thought carmen berzatto was just a hookup. a fuck-buddy. key word, you thought.

warnings: cursing, allusions to sex but not really? its only mentioned a couple times. no smut, intended lowercase, if theres anything i missed plz let me know !!

wc: 1.1k

a/n: arlow thought about carmen spoon feeding them and made it angsty lol. this is rlly short but fret not !! i think this is gonna be a 2 parter, possibly 3 parter? idk, but i think its gonna be a series lol. anyway, enjoy my lovelies !! 🫶🤍

it started as a one time thing. a one-night-stand. a meaningless hookup. something that would and could only happen once.

until it happened again. and again, and again.

because carmen berzatto was a drug, and you were addicted to him. you craved him like lungs crave oxygen, but you weren’t sure that the feeling was reciprocated.

because if carmen berzatto was a book, he’d be written in code. scrawled in a language you didn’t understand, in writing to confusing to decipher. because carmen berzatto was nothing if not confusing.

a sudden vibration on your nightstand pulls you from your thoughts as you swipe open the screen. a text from carmen. shit.

carmy 🧑‍🍳

you up?

fuck. shit, shit, shit.

you quickly sit up and type back a response.

yeah.

you hold down the backspace button. too simple.

i wasn’t until you woke me up

pop. too accusatory.

i am now. whats up?

good enough.

you click send and set your phone back down on your bed, waiting for a response.

bzz.

the reply was almost instant. maybe that scared you a little bit.

your finger hovers over the screen, debating whether to open the text now, or just forget about it until the morning.

the former won.

carmy 🧑‍🍳

can you come over?

oh. oh.

you don’t know why you expected anything different. it’s not like you were dating him. even though you wish you were. in his eyes, you were just a casual hookup who he occasionally called for something not relating to sex.

you heave a sigh and shift your eyes back over to the phone in your hands.

yeah, ok.

sent.

you don’t really care if it sounds passive aggressive, or angry, or disappointed or whatever else it could sound like to him. to be quite honest, you just want to get this over with.

you quickly change out of your pajamas into something more presentable. a white sweater, blue jeans, throw in some lacy undergarments and you’re heading out the door and into your car.

you turn on the ignition and start the short drive to carmy’s apartment. you have his address memorized, (which you will deny is creepy until your dying day) so you don’t need to use a gps.

you turn on some music and try to distract your racing thoughts. its not like this is the first time you’re meeting him. no, far from it. but you don’t think your brain has processed that yet, because your heart is pounding and fluttering like a bird caged within your chest.

you finally make it to his apartment after what feels like an hour, and you’re standing—quite awkwardly—at carmen’s door, your fist hovering over the wood hesitantly.

after a full minute of standing at the door with your arm raised, you decide to bite the bullet and knock on the damn door.

so you do.

and he answers instantly. like a fucking gentleman.

his hair is tousled, and he runs a hand through it nervously. his eyes somehow look even more blue in the shitty light the hallway of his building provides, and it’s driving you crazy.

he is gorgeous. he is perfect. he’s all the synonyms for beautiful you can cram into one human being.

“hi,”

carmen’s voice is deep and gravelly, still thick with sleep even though he’s probably been awake for some time now.

“hey,”

a beat passes.

“can i-?”

he jolts up from the doorway he was leaning on.

“oh, yeah. shit—yeah, come in. sorry.”

an apron is tied around his waist, a gray sweater fitting loosely around his frame. it makes his eyes appear bright, like gleaming pools of sapphire that you want to spend every pretty penny on.

nonetheless, you smile politely and step into his apartment.

no matter how many times you’ve been here, the first thing you notice is always his bookshelves. more so, the books. cookbooks, magazines, culinary textbooks and newspaper articles litter his floor and decorate his walls.

the second thing you always notice is his ever-growing collection of denim. jeans and jackets make up most of his wardrobe, and are crammed into whatever space he could find.

after looking around his small apartment, a smell hits your nose.

its…pasta?

no, that can’t be it. you were just here to fuck, right? the food was probably for someone else. for work, or somebody he wanted a real relationship with. not you.

the thought left a bitter taste in your mouth.

you sigh, disappointment crashing into your heart like waves against rocks for the second time tonight.

despite that, you’re the first to break the silence.

“aren’t we going to your room?” you cringe at the tone of your voice. it sounded exactly how you felt. disappointed, hurt, maybe a little bitter.

“what? sorry, couldn’t hear you.” carmen leans down to you to hear better, his breath a faint whisper against your skin. your breath hitches.

“aren’t we going to your room?” you repeat, a tad louder than before.

“oh. no, no, no. no, that not—that isn’t—” carmen seems to be at a loss for words, and he feels like a total dick.

“we aren’t?” you’re confused, but hide it well. you raise a brow pointedly. “then why’d you ask me to come over?” for the first time in a couple of minutes, you notice where you followed him.

“i—just,” he searches around for something.

a spoon, full of some kind of red sauce. he cups his hand under the utensil to catch anything that drips, and urges you to come closer.

you’re in his kitchen. his safe space. his fucking sacred space.

and suddenly a wave of confusion and frustration and hope is erupting within you. so many emotions and so much fucking hope. hope that this could be something more. hope that maybe you were wrong. silly, foolish, childish hope that enthralls you completely in its deceitfully warm embrace.

he’s still holding the spoon to your mouth when he speaks.

“can you try it? it’s something for the bear. for the new menu. wanted your opinion on it.” he looks nervous, like he wasn’t the one who invited you over. like he isn’t currently the one lighting your cheeks ablaze and causing your to heart implode under the sheer force of your adoration for him.

“oh, um, yeah. of course.”

he smiles. a close-lipped thing that makes you want to kiss it off of him.

you move to take the spoon from him, but he gently shoves your arm down against your side, says “open up,” and puts the spoon in your mouth.

the food is great. more than great. but you’d be lying if you said you were paying attention to that.

because carmen fucking berzatto just spoon fed you. like a couple.

and now the domesticity is crushing you, mind, body and soul.

because you’re in love with carmen berzatto.

and by some miracle, he might be in love with you too.

#💌 arlow writes #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #the bear fx #the bear x reader

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thatone-brightstar · 6 months

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Kinktober winner: "Jealousy and other fire hazards" (Carmy Berzatto x fem!reader)

a/n: so this was supposed to be out yesterday but i went out on saturday and i think i caught a cold or something bc i feel like absolute shit. non the less, here is our kinktober winner!!! also can you tell i mashed up two of my favorite blurbs!? enjoy and remember reblogs and comments are the way to show appreciation for your favorite creators 🖤

ps. Happy Halloween!!

Warnings: smut, MINORS DNI, unprotected piv sex, hair pulling, rough, choking, creampie, probably other stuff too but i forgot lol

Your heels clicked lightly as you stumbled into the apartment, angrily flinging your keys at the hallway table and not bothering to see if they even made it, before blindly moving into the kitchen.

“I don’t get- shit-” You groan, stumbling right into the kitchen counter. “-what the fuckin’ deal is, Carmen.”

He follows behind you in the same pissy mood, the tension prevalent in the strained tendon that runs down the side of his neck. Carmen rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, leaning against the counter and watching you pull ingredient after ingredient from the dimly lit fridge. His anger subsides for a few subtle seconds when his eyes roam the silhouette of the tiny black dress you considered your ‘witch’s costume’ and the one that had him by the balls all fucking night.

You slam the fridge door hard enough to pull him from his thoughts and he clears his throat. “The fuckin’ deal is that you were letting some jagoff sweet talk you-” Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “- what, I leave you alone for five minutes and you already got a bunch of idiots behind you?!”

“First off, it was one idiot.” You argue back, struggling to light the stove between your blurry vision. “And second, why are you acting like it’s my fault!? I didn’t start the conversation!”

“Yeah, but you seemed pretty comfortable with the attention… fuckin’ gigglin’ n’ shit.” His accent grows stronger when he’s pissed and you try to avoid the feeling seeing him angry rises on your skin.

Instead you scoff in a mocking tone, one that turns excited once the flame finally burns bright in front of you. “Aw what, you jealous?” you throw over your shoulder, ignoring the tightness of his jaw, illuminated by the tiny lightbulb from the stove.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, and you assume that maybe he’s let it go and has moved into the bedroom. ‘What a shame,’ the voice in your head taunts as you pop a spoonful of peanut butter into your mouth while you wait for the cheese to melt on your quesadilla. ‘it would’ve been fun.’

You feel it before turning around, the heavy warmth exuding from another body close to your back. The pointed hat over your head blocks your vision past your shoulders but you can still feel him linger behind you. With light fingers, Carmy runs his hand softly up the sheer glove on your forearm until it reaches the curve of your shoulder. oh.

“Jealous?” He whispers, making the exposed skin shiver. “I don’t need to be jealous…”

You’re about to turn around- hooded eyes glossy with the alcohol in your system and the sweet anticipation of what could happen next- but before you can move, his hands take a hold of your hips and press your back against his hard chest.

“Should I be jealous?”His tone is taunting, breathy enough that he sees the bumps on your skin start to rise even in the low light. He pushes your hair over to your other shoulder, being careful with the hat that blocks half the view of your face. All he can see is your parted lips and the sweet little heaves that show just how much his touch affects you. “Hmm?”

“No…” You answer immediately, bewitched by the rhythmic touch of his hand on your torso. Each time it almost reaches your breasts, he pulls it back down again, then up when he hits the edge of your hip bone.

You don’t notice how your head’s fallen back over his shoulder or how your hands rest over his wandering ones, urging them to touch your body further, the simple touch of his hands makes you lightheaded but it’s not enough to drown out the ache between your thighs.

“Carmy…”

Your sweet moan vibrates over his chest, his hands twitch slightly and the sound seems to push them down to where you want him most. His chest separates just enough to let you turn between his hold and not a second goes by before you fling your arms around his shoulders and seal your lips to his.

A hungry groan escapes his mouth. With one hand gripping the nape of your neck, he turns you in your spot, making your heels squeak over the floor and the witch hat fly to a different part in the room.

“Fuck-” You let out in surprise when his hands grip tightly on your waist and hoist you up in a rush, it’s as if he can’t get close to you quick enough.

While his lips latch on to your neck again, your hands work on the many buttons of his shirt. He’s too impatient for that, though, and rather than waiting a few seconds, he lifts it over his head, undershirt and all. You have no time to admire his swelling chest before his lips are back on yours and his hands prying your thighs apart to make space for him. Your dress rolls around your hips, but you’re too turned on to care.

“Fuckin’ idiot…” He breathes out between kisses. “...bet he wanted to have you like this.”

His lips drag onto your neck while his hand starts to play insistent circles over your panties and fishnets. Your nails dig into his exposed shoulders, helping your hips grind against his touch.

“D’you think he’d have you like this? Fuckin’ squirming on his hand?” You shake your head more out of habit than attention, thoughts too clouded with the feeling of his hard cock pressing to the inside of your thigh.

“Baby, please…” You moan again, closer to his ear and you can almost swear his groan unearthed something deep in you.

“Whose is it?” Carmy sneers, eyes so dark that any trace of blue is long gone. His thumb presses deeper into you and a shockwave travels up your spine and into your scalp. “C’mon baby… tell me it’s mine and I'll give you what you want.”

Your mouth feels dry from all the heavy breaths you’re taking but you gasp out a short answer. “All yours.”

“Yeah?” He asks, thumb speeding up circles over your soaked underwear while the other hand undoes his belt frantically.

“All yours, Bear, please jus’... fuck.”

You’re about to protest when he pulls back his thumb and there’s nothing to dull out the throbbing ache anymore, but a dry sound, almost like a whip, echoes in the silent room. You only have time to look down at the torn up mess your tights have become before your eyes roll back into your skull at the tight sensation of his head resting at your entrance.

Carmy slips in just perfect and lets his head fall over your shoulder, watching your cunt swallow him slowly, inch by inch. He’s mesmerized by the sensation of your joined bodies that he almost doesn't notice your protesting groans and the way you wiggle your hips to make him move quicker.

He lets out a soft chuckle and kisses your naked shoulder, where one of the straps of your dress has cascaded to the side; then with a firm hand over your clavicle, he pushes your back flat against the cold surface. Your eyes are hooded and bright, filled with mischief and anticipation that soon turns to excitement once you feel him pull out slowly.

A sudden gasp leaves your throat with the first snap of his hips, then another and another and it only seems to motivate him more. His thrusts are quick and exact over the spot he knows makes you squirm.

"Fuckin' idiot thinks he can take what's mine..." His hands take a hold of your ankles, spreading one heeled foot by each side of his head as he continues to mumble for himself. "Baby, all your moans're mine."

A chorus of 'yours' is all that your mouth can muster between the heavy breaths and constant gasp.

Your nails cling to the edge of the slippery counter, breathing in short bursts, interrupted by the weight of your thighs that pressed to your chest. Carmy’s panting fuels the growing fire in your cunt and you can't pull away from the fierce look behind his eyes.

The memory of your sweet laugh at that son of a bitch’s joke pushes his thrusts harder into you, making your breast bounce against your shaking legs.

‘Not so funny now, huh?’ He sneers between breaths, eyes glistening as he leans down to run his tongue along your salty skin.

The extra weight of his torso pressing to your navel blurs your vision even more and you know it's only a matter of seconds before you're coming all around him. Your nails rake his scalp, catching on his hair and holding on tightly as your eyes water with need.

Carmy answers back by hoisting your leg up even higher, cock pounding inside at a new angle that makes you lose your breath, spine curling off the counter and against his sweaty chest. ‘Atta girl-’ He groans near your ear. ‘-you can take it.’

His words push you over the edge. Your orgasm rings through your ears and you're sure the high pitched moan leaving your throat will get you a few dirty looks from your neighbors in the morning, but you can't care less. From your haze, you feel Carmy give his all into a few more thrusts, before he goes rigid over you and a low groan shakes his body, making your cunt flutter around him.

He pulls out of you with a hiss, but his attention is captured by the milky white liquid slipping through your sensitive slit. You hiss too when his thumb graces over the area, pushing back in his release. There's a taunting grin over his face as he does it too and you can't help but mirror it over your own tired features.

That's when you notice it, the bright ember glow casting and dancing behind him, almost like flames...

"Shit!" You shout and quickly jump off the counter, turning him by the shoulder so he can see the stove and the pan over the open flame that's caught on fire.

"Fuck!" Carmy reacts quickly, pulling a fire extinguisher from under the sink and rapidly dousing the stove in the white foam.

You're both silent for a few seconds- contemplating the soot that's taken over the stove hood and part of the back wall- then your snicker breaks the silence and you're both falling into an euphoric fit of laughter that doesn't feel foreign to situation either.

**********

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne , @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha , @yum-yahgurt , @pussy-f41ry , @kirakombat , @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 , @feyhunter78

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carmyboobear · 1 month

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Carmy gives me such little spoon energy. The man just loves (and needs let’s be real) to be held by you. It’s so comforting to him especially after a long day at the restaurant

anon you GET IT. He 100% NEEDS to be held. He works so hard everyday! He never lets himself rest, but I think once he lets himself let go and get taken care of…man. I don't think he can get enough of it!

Here's the set-up: both of you in bed after a long, long day. It doesn't really matter if it's The Beef or The Bear, but I'm imagining The Bear in this scenario. You could tell how upset and tired he was from the moment he entered the front door. After getting some food in him and showering with him, you're both laying in bed.

“D'you wanna talk about it?” You ask. You're both laying on your side, facing each other.

“Not really. I mean, it's just the same old shit.” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “‘M too tired.”

“I get it.” You bring a hand up to his face to brush damp curls out of the way, but he nuzzles his face into your palm instead. “Wanna just cuddle instead?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles into your palm. He takes your hand in his own to keep it there, and he presses little kisses into it. It makes you smile, a bit giddy. You scoot closer to him and rest your head on his chest. You close your eyes, expecting him to wrap his arms around you like he usually does, but then he doesn't.

“Is something wrong?” You crane your head back to look at him. You can only describe his complex expression as a mixture of shyness and apprehension.

“It’s nothing,” he says quickly, so clearly uncomfortable.

“C’mon, tell me,” you chide him gently. “If you just wanna go to bed, that’s fine.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s…” He’s silent for a while before he speaks again. “Can I…ugh, this is so stupid.”

“It’s okay, Carm. I’m sure it’s not stupid.”

“I wanna be the little spoon,” he blurts out, and that’s all it is. But his cheeks are flared like he just got caught with a secret.

“Oh, is that all?” You can’t help your amused smile. “I’d love that, actually.”

“You…you would?” The bewilderness in his face shows that he obviously didn’t think it was gonna go this smoothly.

“Of course I would. Come here, baby.” You sit back and out stretch your arms, leaving a space for him to snuggle into you. He only wavers for a second before tucking himself into your side.

“Not weird?” He murmurs, head laying against your chest. His arm wraps around your waist, and one of yours is tucked behind his back.

“Not weird at all.” You start running your fingers through his hair, nails lightly dragging across his scalp, and he lets out a contented sigh. He leans into your touch, and you are distinctly reminded of a cat. “Does that feel good, Carm?”

“Mm,” he hums back. A small grin appears on his face. “Needed this.”

“Is that right?” His eyes are closed, so he can’t see how affectionate your smile has become. “You always work so hard. Poor baby.” You lean down and pepper his forehead in kisses.

He must’ve been really tired, because he falls asleep almost immediately after that. Even though your arm goes numb, you don’t have the heart to push him off. If anything, he just curls further into you. After pressing a little kiss to his cheek, you gradually drift off into sleep next to him.

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #my asks #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #my blurbs #pic of the eepy boy for full effect

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yellowharrington · 10 days

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all i really want (is you) -- carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader, the bear fx

word count: 3k

warnings: smut! 18+, minors pls dni. afab!reader with pullable hair, no use of y/n. light daddy kink and dom/sub undertones. spanking, exhibitionism, oral (m + f receiving), unprotected piv + creampie, reader and carmy both drink alcohol. please let me know if i missed anything :)

a/n: this is depraved. thanks @wtfsteveharrington for reigniting my need to write about carmy lmao. title is from "all i really want is you" by the marias. please leave comments or reblogs if you liked it <3

divider by @cafekitsune

summary: carmy secretly books a lake-front hotel room in chicago for your anniversary.

Carmy would be the first to admit he’s not very good at being romantic.

He forgets, lets things slip through the cracks, time and time again. He makes up for it, and you understand of course, but he’s working on it.

When your anniversary is approaching, he knows he has to make a plan. Busy with the restaurant, the menu, the money - all of it was overwhelming, but your not-so-subtle reminder of the date gave him the idea.

“So…” you had joined him in your shared kitchen, hand brushing through his curls as he slaved over a pan sauce he’d been perfecting.

“Yes?” He wasn’t annoyed - never annoyed, by you - but in the thralls of cooking, nonetheless.

“It’s our anniversary next weekend and I was thinking we’d try out that new restaurant you were talking about. You know… the one that’s suuuuuper hard to get a reservation at?” You smiled coyly as he held out the spoon with the hot liquid on it, wordlessly asking you for a taste-test.

“Sounds good,” he had remarked, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek and returning to the task at hand. “I’ll make a call.”

“Thank you, Carm,” you let your hands roam his clothed back as you feel the sauce between your lips and on your tongue. “That’s delicious.”

He hummed in response, as your hands drifted down to his sides and played at the hem of his t-shirt. “After our anniversary dinner I have a little… present for you.”

Before he could respond, you had slipped away to the bedroom, only flashing him a smirk before closing the door.

The weekend of your anniversary had approached quickly, and Carmy had actually managed to get everything in place. The reservation for dinner was set, his gift burning a hole in his pocket, and thoughts of what your gift to him may entail swirling around in his head.

You walked out of your shared bedroom, adorning a black dress that hugged your body perfectly. Jewelry to match - done up just right, effortlessly perfect for the occasion. His hand came up to his mouth as he took you in, thanking whatever God above that brought you to him.

“Too much?” You asked, toying with your hair in the mirror and correcting the edge of your lipstick.

“No,” Carmy answered, coming up behind you in the mirror and admiring your form. “Perfect.”

You felt yourself blush as he took your hand and held it to his lips, kissing your knuckles and pulling you into him. “Ready?”

Dinner came and passed, shared glasses of wine between the two of you as you reminisced about past times together. Carmy had always been shy, but easy to talk to, especially when he had some time to open up. You gave him space to do that - he’d never felt more comfortable with anybody before, somebody he trusted with everything. You listened, told him what he needed to hear when he needed to hear it, and kept him in check all while supporting him from the sidelines and meshing perfectly into his insane life. He was eternally grateful for finding you.

He slides a small box across the table at dinner, and when you open it up, you gasp at what’s inside. A dainty necklace, a glossy “C” hanging on the end of it, where it would sit against your chest.

You let his deft fingers close the tiny clasp behind your neck, the pendant hanging perfectly, glimmering in the amber candlelight of the restaurant. “You’re gonna make me cry,” you laugh through a watery smile, Carmy’s hand crossing the table to slide into yours. Warm skin against warm skin, you smile at his small display of affection, tilting your glass towards him as he clinked it with yours.

You notice something might be up when you get back into his car, and he doesn’t take the turn off back to your shared apartment. Instead, he veers off into another lane, holding onto your thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze for encouragement.

You’re down by the water now, making a confused expression at your surroundings. City lights around you, the bustling of other people on dates or nights out, as Carmy pulls into the parking lot of a hotel.

“What are we doing here?” You look at the people stepping into the hotel lobby, some dressed in clothing that was probably more than your rent. He wordlessly turns off his car and exits through the driver’s side, saying something to the valet before grabbing a bag out of the back seat and rounding back to your side. He opens the door for you and takes your hand, before leading you through the doors and into the grand front lobby.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling above as he took your hand and lead you to the front desk, a confused scowl still across your features. The person at the front desk waved you two over, typing something into the computer. “Good evening. Checking in?”

Carmy nods, handing over his ID and credit card before smiling down at you.

“We’re checking in?”

“Happy Anniversary.”

You have to make sure your mouth isn’t hanging open, as Carmy’s coy smile plays along his lips.

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” you whisper to him, feeling heat spread across your cheeks as you take in your surroundings. Your hand slips into his as you press your cheek to his jacketed shoulder. “Let me show you to your room.”

An elevator ride to the top floor has you antsy, as the attendant opens the door for you to your room. She reveals a lake-front room, with views of the harbour, twinkling lights in the distance reflecting onto the massive floor-to-ceiling window. “Is it to your liking, Mr. and Mrs. Berzatto?”

A blush runs up your cheeks as the insinuation. Carmy didn’t correct her, just slipped her a tip and assured her the room was perfect. The door clicked politely behind you as you stepped into the room and kicked off your shoes. You turned around to meet Carmy’s eyes as his expression softened, your hands coming up to cup his face.

“I can’t believe you did this.” You’re breathless, still taking in this grand gesture he’d somehow planned completely behind your back.

“You deserve it,” he said simply, tongue darting between his lips as a strong hand came to overlap yours.

The sun had gone down now, navy sky further illuminating the lights below. Rain slacked against the window, simultaneously hard and soft, the glow of the bedside lamps casting shadows on the walls as you got yourself settled. Carmy had abandoned his jacket and tie, leaving him in a crisp white button-up shirt and black slacks. He was laid back on the bed, one hand behind his head, taking some time to relax.

You dipped into the bathroom, smoothing out your hair and checking your makeup in the mirror. You undid the back of your dress and let it slip down your body into a pool on the tile, revealing the gift you’d picked out for Carmy. A black lace set - cupping your breasts perfectly. Lace panties to match, connected to stockings that came high up on your thighs.

You stepped out, stocking-clad feet soft against the carpet. Carmy immediately notices, eyes blown wide as he sits up to take you in.

“Thought you might want your gift now,” you sauntered towards him and met him at the end of the bed, his thighs spread for you to fit between them. His hands immediately came up to touch - to confirm you were real, mostly - because his brain was telling him you weren’t.

You looked down at him, cupping his chin with your hand and the other coming down to his shoulder. Pushing down on him gently, his back hit the mattress, wild eyes not moving off of you for even a second.

You move to straddle his lap, fingers coming down to start unfurling the buttons on his shirt, revealing the soft skin of his chest. Carmy’s rough, calloused fingertips pressed into the plush skin of your hips, eyes wanting to flutter closed but being too entranced by the sight before him to look away.

His fiery eyes fell to the swell of your breasts, hands coming up to press and squeeze at the skin there, thumbs ghosting over your hard nipples. You felt your back arch, pressing against his palms, wanting more, as much of him as you could get.

Carmy’s hands slid down your body to find your clothed core, eliciting a small moan from your lips. You rutted into his hand slightly, feeling his skilful fingers start to work at you over the lace.

You weren’t expecting to give him the upper hand, but it was hard not to submit to his touch - wholly his, looking down at him but still feeling as though he had all the power.

He was sitting up now, pushing your panties to the side and feeling the slick between your folds, maintaining eye contact with you through it all. “Carm,” you panted, strained, embarrassed to be coming apart for him already.

As if he knew, he pulled away, wordlessly bringing his fingers up to your lips. You wrapped your mouth around them, letting your tongue dart between the digits as he wet them with your spit.

“Pretty girl,” he muttered, only loud enough for you to hear, earnest eyes looking up at you, fuzzy around the edges with lust. “My pretty slut, aren’t you?”

“Just for you,” you replied, a smirk on the corner of your lip as he swiftly grabbed your hips and flipped you to have your back on the soft hotel comforter.

He stood before you, giving you a chance to unbutton the rest of his shirt and undo his dress pants, his hand now cradling your chin. You pushed his slacks to the floor, rubbing his thick cock over the fabric of his black boxers. His hand came down to pet your hair, taking a fistful of it at the nape and pulling it back to reveal your shiny lips and eager eyes to him. The pendant he purchased for you glinted in the light.

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

His firm hand on the back of your neck was enough to make your cunt weep, even without his touch. “Please, I need your cock. Please.”

“Good girl. Sit up, all fours.”

You quickly found yourself on your knees on the soft bed, as he let his cock free. He pumped it a few times, angling your mouth with his grip to allow it to drop open. He pressed forward, slipping in between your wet lips and eliciting a carnal groan from his throat. You let yourself submit to his face-fucking, using your mouth to get himself off, leaking tip pressing against the back of your throat. You gagged around him, throat constricting, which only emboldened him to continue. Spit escaped the corners of your lips as you took him in, swallowing him down, all while looking up and batting your long lashes at him.

“Taking it so good,” he remarked, with a particularly long thrust into your throat. Leaning forward, his broad hand found a fistful of your ass, squeezing it before planting a firm spank. A yelp escaped your lips, as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the force of him in your throat.

He pulled you off, cock bobbing between his legs before he smeared the spit that had collected all over your plush lips. “So fucking good for me, baby.”

You smiled triumphantly as he leaned down to kiss you sloppily, mixing your spit with his and taking the time to undo your bra and throw it to the ground.

You didn’t even mind when he pushed you back onto the bed, pulling the stockings and panties off to meet your bra on the floor, surely ripping them. His hands pushed your thighs apart, wet pussy on full display as he dove right in, not giving you even a second to catch your breath.

“Fu-uck,” your voice was hoarse and jagged, his warm tongue feeling like it was everywhere. You squirmed beneath his strong squeeze, forcing your back off the mattress as he licked a broad stripe up your centre and flashed his eyes up at you.

Your eyes were trained on his movements, knowing better than to close them. Your hand came down to his sandy curls, feeling your breath quicken as he suckled on your clit, moving his jaw in such a way that was sending an electrifying pulse up your spine.

He moved one hand from your thigh to circle your entrance with his middle finger, enjoying the way you shuddered at the feeling. “Please,” you begged, watching as he detached his tongue from your clit to simply play with your hole. “Please, I need you inside of me.”

His lips pursed as he waited for you to understand why he wasn’t proceeding. A knowing glance, a sob from you as he teased you. “Are you talking to me? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“Please, daddy. Please fuck me with your fingers.”

“That’s better.” He plunged into you, thick finger curling inside as you let out a choked sob, your cunt pulsing around him as he moved in and out. His lips attached to your clit once again, sucking and grinding his tongue into you, other hand coming up along your stomach to grab your tit and pinch your nipple.

You rasped his name, throat raw from his previous fucking, letting it pour out of your lips over and over. He lapped at you - feeling every quiver from your pussy and shake of your legs as he continued at a bruising pace, not letting up no matter how much you squirmed beneath him. Still pushing you into the mattress, his own cock rutting against the sheets and growing harder every second that his mouth is on you.

A white-hot feeling spread across the back of your thighs, back arched as you tugged on his hair and met his gaze. He rode out your high with you, letting you gush around his fingers and feeling waves of pleasure rise and fall as your breath steadied. Your chest heaving, sticky with sweat, mascara smeared at the edges as you laid back, feeling Carmy’s fingers pull out and his mouth detach from you.

He found himself between your thighs once more, rock-hard cock sliding between your slick folds to tease your overly sensitive clit. He kissed you, a hunger within him, arms coming up under you to hold you as close as possible. Bare skin against bare skin, his mouth sucking in your bottom lip and biting down slightly, eliciting a smile from you and a depraved moan from your lips.

You reached down between your two bodies and slipped his cock into your ready pussy, swallowing him inside of you and hearing his gasp against your lips at the friction. A shameless grunt as his hips drove into you relentlessly, his curls falling into your face as your head tipped back, letting his mouth attach to the side of your throat and suck a bruise into the soft skin beneath your ear. Your hands found the strong muscles of his back, digging them into his skin and finding your legs wrapping around his middle.

An assaulting pace, languidly in and out of you as you met his eyes, pure lust and fire behind them. You could see the idea flash across his eyes.

He pulled out of you gingerly, as you winced at the loss of contact. He pulled you up with him, towards the windows of the hotel room.

He lightly pushed you against the cold glass, earning a sinful moan from your lips as he took your hands hostage behind your back. The rain still pelted down outside, a symphony against your hard and fast breath.

“Why don’t you show all those people how you like to get fucked, huh? Show them what a slut you are?”

A devilish smile on your lips was met with your cheek against the glass, a broad palm on the opposite side of your face, as his cock slid back into your pussy with ease. Your ass was pushed out for him to land a firm slap on it once again, picking up his pace. His hand came around to push your legs apart, playing with your clit and drawing you close once again, as he released your hands to leave prints on the glass.

“Fill me up, please daddy,” you moaned, letting your head fall slack. “I want you to cum so fucking deep inside of me, fuck,” — another spank, paired with jagged thrusts as Carmy got closer to finishing — “fuck me like you own me, baby.”

“I do own you,” he growled, forehead pressed against your shoulder blades as he felt your pussy clench around him. “Cum baby, cum with all those people fucking watching you.”

“You own me Carmen, I’m yours.” you chanted, turning around to meet his eyes. You watched his eyes glaze over and jaw hang open as his thrusts slowed, making a mess of your pussy as he came deep inside of you.

Your second orgasm followed soon after, cock twitching inside of you as you clenched around him. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder as you stepped away from the glass, legs unstable as a furious warmth came up over your cheeks.

After getting cleaned up together in the bathroom, he flicked off the light as you turned towards the window. His body pressed up against yours, arm secured around your waist as he peppered kisses along your neck and shoulders, musing about how beautiful you are.

“Best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispered, another kiss to the outer shell of your ear that made a shiver go up your spine. “I love you more than anything.”

You curled into him and listened to the relaxing rain, his steadying breath and strong arm lulling you safely to sleep.

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x you #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #the bear fx fanfic #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fanfic

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jupwrld · 3 months

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okay okay i literally can’t get this idea out my head BUT a reader who does a lil dance when they really enjoy their food! and carmen just loves cooking for them because he can always tell how good it is by their dancing.

does that makes sense AHHH IDK🥲🫶🏾

A/N: This is a safe space for people who dance when they enjoy their food (me). Hope you enjoy, and thank you for the request! And remember: comments and reblogs make the world go round! <3

warnings: literally none it's just cutie (but if ur vegetarian sorry bc reader is fuckin' up some bone broth soup)

Carmen Berzatto x gn!reader

"Baby, can you taste this?" Carmy calls to you who's sitting at your usual spot on the kitchen counter, and he's already getting you a spoonful of a new soup recipe he's been working on. He blows gently on it as he makes his way over to you skillfully-- years of having a partner taste your food will do that to a man.

"And if I say no?" Slips off your tongue with a grin, and your lovers eyes flash to yours for a moment before they roll, drawing a brief spell of laughter from the both of you. "What is it, Carmy?"

"Remember that beef bone broth I was making the other day? Wanted to try stracciatella with that, wanna know what you think." He says, finally bringing the now cooled spoon to your lips. The moment the soup hits your tongue, you can't help but smile and shut your eyes. While you swallow, Carmy watches you patiently, awaiting the moment of truth.

And he has just the answer he's looking for as he watches your eyes shut, and you do that little dance he adores when you love what you're eating. Your head bops and your hips sway gently on the counter for a moment, a moment of which he always feels is too short lived.

"S'good?" He asks as your eyes flutter open and the bopping of your head changes into a nod, and your hips do more of a bounce than a sway.

"So good." Carmy knows that, he could tell from the moment you did your little dance-- but it always makes him feel good to hear you say it aloud. "Please tell me you made enough for the week."

"More than enough, sweetheart." Carmen says with a gentle kiss to your lips that you can't help but smile against. And he can't help but do the same as your hips that he holds in his hands tenderly begin to sway against his palms.

I had so much fun writing this! I'm working on the other requests as well, but PLEASE feel free to send in asks! Though they’ll probably be a little slow coming because I’m back in school for the semester. But a drabble is easier to write than fics, so I can get through those much faster :)

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear x reader

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

make my heart surrender | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: friday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, angst, use of she/her pronouns, friends to lovers, smutty smut-smut, this is an 18+ chapter so minors dni, no use of y/n, second person pov

word count: 6.7k

summary: buckle up people, because this is a long one! tonight is the night: the night you and marcus' dessert menu goes live, the night you meet natalie berzatto, and the night that truths are revealed.

a/n: is it hot in here or is it just me? who's ready for some smut? this will be the last chapter i post till sunday/monday, so we can all sit with this. hear me out: it's not that i think carmy is really good at sex. but there's so much tension between these two, i think reader is good at sex, and there's something to be said for being so turned on by the other person that it just hits different.

and here is that song -- the jazz standard turned acoustic cover.

read: part three | masterlist

Friday

“Just remember that we don’t have to reinvent the wheel here. You just have to deliver a really damn good dessert time after time,” you instruct, setting Marcus up, pre-dinner shift.

“I think we should focus on the burnt basque cheesecake in lieu of the classic. You already have a heavier lift on the bake for the chocolate cake. That way, whatever happens with the mixer, or the ovens… this version of cheesecake is pretty forgiving. And you don’t have to fuck around with a water bath just yet.”

“The tiramisu is perfect because it’s a no-bake option, and you can mix it up with different kinds of flavors – call it a special.”

“Like what we’re doing Sunday?” Marcus suggests, in reference to the strawberry, lemon, and mascarpone version you be doing at the end of the week.

“Exactly,” you reply.

“Hell yeah.”

“It all fits into the menu so nicely too: elevated classics.”

“A play on tradition.”

“Exactly."

“Ah, I see you, chef,” Marcus nods along, excited about tonight’s R&D night.

The game plan is to serve smaller portions of each dessert for the price of one, then get feedback by the end of the weekend.

“Hey, family’s up in a minute. You guys ready to roll tonight?” Carmy asks, stopping by you and Marcus’ little pastry corner.

“Yes, chef,” you both answer, in staggered timing.

“She got me workin’ on a strawberry compote. Here, try it, chef,” Marcus encourages, grabbing a clean spoon and scooping out a spoonful from the deli container it’s been stored in. Carmy takes it, putting the spoon in his mouth and he tries the compote.

“That’s gonna be really good with the tang and slightly bitter outside of the burnt cheesecake. Good work, chef,” he congratulates, inspiring a grin across Marcus face.

“I’m learning so much from you. Seriously. Thank you, chef,” he says, turning to you.

“Hey, you’re the one that made the compote,” you reply, redirecting the praise back to him. “Just sayin’.”

“Family’s up!” Sydney calls out to the whole kitchen.

You lock eyes with Carmy, and he nods towards the front of house as if to say, ‘follow me.’ You and Marcus file in through the limited space that leads from the kitchen to the front counter, then finally, into the dining area of the restaurant. Carmy had told you all about the hellish remodel of this place – that the two tops, booths, and bar remodel had taken for-fuckin-ever. That it looked like nothing more than a diner with a few arcade games before the reopen.

“Hey, thanks for jumping in so that Angel could cover me the other night,” Ebrahim says to you, as you find a seat next to Carmy, and across from Marcus.

“Oh, it’s no problem. You feelin’ better?” you ask back.

“Very much so. A little rest and a little maraq digaag and I’m good as new,” he answers.

“What’s good, Jeff? Surprised you’ve stuck around this long. Glad we haven’t scared you away yet,” Tina greets.

Carmy’s shocked, considering Tina rarely warms up to anyone.

You chuckle in response.

“It takes a lot more to scare me away, chef,” you reply, confident that you can keep up with everyone’s witty banter. Even though you’ve been welcomed in over the last few days, you know that they were a family before you came.

And will still be one after you.

Right. Because this is temporary. You’re only here for a week, you remind yourself.

“Yeah, thought she’d be long gone after workin’ the line the other night,” Richie chimes in. “Especially considering she’s way out of your league, cousin.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you,” Carmy shoots back, almost instantly.

“I’m just glad you’re here now. Man, it’s been three days and you’ve leveled my shit up already,” Marcus compliments.

“Besides, it’s nice to have some solidarity amongst the little boys club we work in every damn day,” Sydney points out, eliciting a scoff from Richie.

The two of you share a look, like a psychic high five or some shit. It begins to dawn on you that you could get used to this: this kitchen, these people….

“What? You got something against women supporting women, Richie?”

“Oh, so what? You’re the voice of feminism now, Syd?” Richie spits back. “Holy shit! Did you guys know that we were here in the presence of the new voice of-.”

You watch as Tina and Gary slump in their chairs, as if to say, ‘here they go again.’

“Don’t be such a prick, Richie. Oh wait.” Sydney challenges.

“You know what-?” Richie starts up, before being swiftly interrupted.

“Damn, Syd. This is fantastic,” you interject, your voice louder than normal, in reference to her family meal. “These tostadas are fuckin’ perfect and I’m gonna need the recipe.”

Richie continues to go on about god knows what, distracting himself, as Sydney mouths a, ‘thank you’ across the table towards you. You nod towards her as if to say,

I got you.

“Hey, I’m a little behind on plating. Sorry, chef,” Marcus apologizes, and you can tell he’s stressed. He gestures towards the plates that are ready to go out to the bar.

He hesitates before asking, “Oh and uh… these ones are ready to go out. Can you-?”

“‘Course, chef,” you answer, a mini-pep talk coming his way. “But uh… before you keep going, Marcus, take a breath. I know you struggle a little with pacing – you want everything to perfect – but, it’s gonna come with practice and repetition.”

You can see that he’s flustered – a little frustrated even.

“Expediting during dinner is a whole other animal, and it’s just night one. You got this,” you reassure.

You and Carmy had such different leadership styles. While you both had come up in the same kind of kitchens, you didn’t like to yell unless you had to. You were here to teach, and you can’t remember the last time someone screaming at you had ever helped you learn something.

You’re more than happy to support him by taking these plates out. You spent the first half of dinner service plating so that he could get some face time with customers – since you’d be asking for feedback. Then you’d switch halfway through service. You also thought it might be good practice for him to lead, considering they’d need to hire more help with the new menus.

You take a look at the ticket, one dessert tasting - two people - bar top, before taking the dessert plates out to the designated seats at the bar. There’s a gorgeous blonde woman sitting next to a guy in a sweater vest, as you make to approach the bar top.

“Hi, you guys,” you greet, a cheerful smile on your face. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We’re testing out a few new desserts for our dinner menu, so I’d love to hear what you think.”

“Oh this looks great,” the woman says, looking at both perfectly plated desserts.

“Here we have a burnt basque cheesecake with a strawberry compote, The Bear’s signature chocolate layer cake, and then a classic Italian tiramisu,” you explain, walking through each piece.

“Wow,” the man marvels, almost as if he’s surprised.

You share your name with them, and let them know that, if they have any feedback, that they can ask for you. As you turn to go, the woman calls after you, stopping you.

“Wait,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “You’re Carmy’s friend.”

“Yes.”

“Pete, it’s Carmy’s friend!” she exclaims, nudging the man next to her with her elbow to try to jog his memory. “You know! The one that’s staying in our airbnb.”

“Oh!” he says, as the light bulb goes on in his brain. “Yeah, we’ve heard all about you.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman apologizes. “I’m Natalie, his sister, but you can call me Sugar. This is my husband, Pete.”

“Oh my god! Natalie! Yes, I’ve heard so much about you too,” you reply, finally registering that this was the same woman in family photos that Carmy had shown you years ago. “It’s so nice to put a face to the name. And great to meet you too, Pete. Seriously, thanks for letting me stay at the place. I mean, you really didn’t have to.”

“Likewise,” she says back. She scoffs before rolling her eyes and continuing. “Leave it to Carmy to ask us for a favor and not even introduce you to us, that soft shitty bitch!”

“Babe,” Pete starts. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so hard on Carmy, you know, in front of his-.” He gestures towards you and you’re not sure what he thinks you are to Carmy.

Sugar brushes him off with a, ‘whatever,’ before you notice that they’re both in need of clean forks.

“You guys need clean forks. I’m gonna-,” you start.

“Oh no! I uh-, let me get it,” Pete interrupts, practically jumping out of his seat.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaving the two of you alone.

You lean against the bar top towards Sugar.

“Well, he couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” you say with a laugh, stating the obvious. She laughs with a nod towards her husband.

“Yeah he’s… special,” she replies. “I think he uh, I think he just wanted to give us some time to talk.”

You’re not sure what to say next, because you’re not sure what you and Carmy’s sister, one you’ve never met before, would have to talk about.

“So how’s the place? Do you have everything you need or-?” Sugar begins, in reference to the airbnb.

“Oh! Yeah, no it’s great. I’ve got everything I need. Again, thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“No, we wanted to!”

“Thanks…” you trail off, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable – nervous, maybe? Yep, definitely nervous, you realize, as you begin to ramble. “It’s a really great apartment. Beautifully styled.”

What the fuck are you even talking about, you think to yourself.

“Oh, I did that! Styled it, I mean,” Sugar’s quick to respond.

“Oh, wow!” you say. Were all the Berzattos creative? “Yeah, I just-, I really appreciate it. Made getting out here a little easier.”

“No, yeah, it’s-, it’s no problem,” Sugar continues. “Really… anything for a friend of Carmy’s.”

You’re not sure why it’s so awkward, and it feels like you’re somehow both dancing around something you’re not even sure you should be dancing around.

“I hope you don’t think I’m a total bitch for saying this but,” Sugar starts, cautiously. While she doesn’t want to make her brother look like a total loser in front of you, she’s also unsure of how else to say what she says next.

“Bear's never really had any friends… not a lot of them, at least. So I-. Thank you. I mean. For being his friend, I guess… is what I’m trying to say.”

Bear.

You figure it's a family nickname. You wonder why you’ve never heard it before, and yet, it’s no surprise that he kept it from you. He’d been so evasive about his family when you’d first met. For a bit, it just felt like a topic that was off limits.

You take a beat, processing what she’s just said. In some ways, you always knew that Carmy was a bit of a loner, but you could feel the weight of what she’s saying – how much it meant to her.

“I know he’s not always easy to love but. I don’t know. He acts like he doesn’t need people, and I know he does. I mean, people outside of this fucked up shit hole anyways,” she continues, gesturing to her surroundings.

You agree with a small laugh, “Yeah, he can be a real dick sometimes. That’s for sure.”

“Seriously. Thank you,” she says, genuinely.

“Of course,” you reply, making sure she knows that her words mean a lot to you. You take a more playful tone as you continue. “To be fair, we did meet in another fucked up spot. Not so much a shit hole though.”

“Yeah, and there’s that,” she sighs, lightheartedly.

“I’m just glad he has someone. He needs someone. Even when he doesn’t want to.”

The rest of dinner service is a blur, as your mind continues to incubate on what Sugar had said to you. You let your interaction with her sit there, but try your best to focus on supporting the rest of service.

You all work together to wrap up the evening – a chaotic dinner service with a lot of lessons learned. You and Carmy are the last to leave as you notice he’s wrapping up a few things in his office. With your jacket on, backpack slung over one shoulder, you stop by to say goodnight before heading out.

He’s sitting in the chair, furiously scribbling a few notes down on a few pages of graphing paper. Your eyes flicker over all of the silly doodles on the whiteboard behind him.

“Hey,” you say, causing him to look up from his notebook.

“Good service tonight,” he says back.

“Yeah,” you nod in agreement. “Desserts were a hit.”

“I heard,” he replies.

You wait for him to say more, only he doesn’t.

“So, I’m gonna get out of here. Marcus is gonna fly solo tomorrow morning, so I won’t be in till the dinner shift,” you start, shooting him a polite smile.

You take a few steps away from the office before he calls out to you.

“Hey!”

You stop, taking a few steps backwards so that you’re standing in the office doorway once again.

“You hungry?” he asks, tentatively.

There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite identify: a little nervousness, and something else you haven’t had a chance to name yet. It’s like he’s not ready to part ways with you yet. You smile back at him, hoping to quell whatever nerves he has about the question he just asked you.

“Always, Carm.”

You’re tired and your feet ache from a particularly busy service, but you’re not ready to part ways with him either.

“Watcha thinkin?” you ask curiously, sliding your other arm through the loose strap of your backpack.

“Can I cook you something?” he proposes, hopefully.

You laugh.

“Is that even a real question?”

You wait for him as he wraps up his notes and gather his things. Carmy slips on his jacket and ballcap, ready to head home with you. On the way, he lights up a cigarette, offering one to you, but you tell him that you’re trying to quit – or at least trying to cut back. It’s not a long walk back to his place, and you anticipate it being something along the same lines as what he had in New York: facebook marketplace couch, minimal food in the fridge, a TV and a bed.

Nothing else – just a place to sleep, before he spends most of his day at the restaurant.

When you arrive, you’re not surprised to see that your assumptions were correct. Carmy flips on a few lights as you follow behind him. You drop your book bag onto his couch, slipping your shoes off and removing your jacket, as Carmy bee lines for the kitchen. You hear the faucet turn on as you tentatively explore his small apartment, before meeting him in the small kitchen area.

He takes his time, washing his hands, before drying them on a dish towel and throwing it over his shoulder.

“So what are we makin’, chef?” you inquire.

“We aren’t making anything. You’re gonna sit right over here,” he begins, gesturing towards the area across from his gas stovetop. “Oh shit. Hold on. Let me grab you a-.”

“I’m good here, chef,” you interrupt, making a sound as you hop onto the kitchen counter. You immediately reach for the bag of chips he’s thrown onto it. It’s not even closed properly with a clip or anything so expect them to be stale as you pop one of the chips into your mouth.

“Sour cream and onion? Change up from your regular doritos, huh?”

A small smile spreads across his face as he moves around his kitchen, locating a quarter sheet pan. He opens his practically desolate fridge, pulling out a fresh brick of pecorino romano, guanciale, and a few eggs he throws right into the pint-sized deli container that lays on the sheet pan. The rest follow: an unopened pound of dried spaghetti and black pepper, before he gently places the sheet pan on the counter, beginning to preheat two pans on the stovetop.

“Are you-?”

“Uh huh.”

You smile to yourself. He’s making one of your favorites: carbonara.

The first time he’d made it for you, you had just started spending some of your days off together – had just agreed to be a part of each others' quarantine pods. You knew he had Italian-American heritage but it was blatantly obvious when you took your first bite.

“Holy fuck,” you had practically moaned at your first bite. “This-, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure your talents are being wasted on fine dining, my friend. This is… this is fucking unreal, dude.”

You had tried to convince him that this is the food you both should be cooking, but he vehemently denied the idea, insisting the fine dining was the highest on the food chain and the only way he could make a name for himself.

He’d been drinking the kool-aid. You both had.

You sit quietly, as Carmy works. You watch as he cuts perfect lardons, then renders the fat from the cured pork bits. The smell of the guanciale begins to fill the apartment, and Carmy opens a window, just to let the smoke dissipate.

“You can uh, put some music on if you want,” Carmy says, motioning towards the small bluetooth speaker he has on the coffee table. You agree to, hopping off of the kitchen counter and making your way towards his living area to set up the speaker.

You flip through your phone, looking for a good playlist to put on, settling on one of your dinner party playlists. The speaker booms with the sounds of an old jazz standard, redone as an acoustic cover, and you turn the volume up a little as the water for the spaghetti comes to a boil.

You spend time looking through Carmy’s bookshelf. It’s filled with thick-spined cookbooks from James Beard winning best restaurants and chefs. You drag your fingertips over the spine of a few classics, but settle on a fairly new book, written by someone at the New York Times.

“Do you have any other books besides cookbooks?” you call out to him.

He lets out a dry laugh and you take it as a no.

You make your way back to your spot on the counter, sliding the open chip bag over, before hopping back up to your seat. You flip through the cookbook as Carmy stays busy with the pasta.

It’s quiet moments like these that you’ve missed so much. Some days the two of you could talk for hours about sous vide vs reverse searing, and the right way to make a fucking bearnaisse sauce. Other days, Carmy wasn’t much for conversation, and you loved those ones equally. Sometimes, you just wanted company, so he’d come over and work on a recipe and you’d read while he worked in your kitchen.

You could just be together, and it was nice to feel that again.

No awkward tension of things left unsaid.

But there was a different kind of tension that seemed to linger between the two of you and you wondered if it had always been there. Had you just never noticed? Between the little comments from Richie about being out of his league, and Pete’s open-ended ‘not in front of his’ you wondered if everyone knew something you didn’t.

“Which one’d you go with?” he asks, continuing his graceful dance around the kitchen.

“Korean American. Eric Kim. I hadn’t had a chance to pick up a copy for myself yet, actually,” you answer, flipping through the first few pages.

Your met with quiet as you continue your story.

“You know we’re kind of friends. We went out for drinks a few times. Before I quit my job. Went dancing in the east village and stayed out till two in the morning bar hopping and gossiping about our mutual celebrity crush, Timothee Chalamet,” you add, your attention still fixed on the vibrant, colorful food photographs.

“Timothee Chalamet, huh?” Carmy asks, amused.

Your attention isn’t on Carmy, or what he’s doing, save for the sounds of him moving around the kitchen. That is, until you look up to find him unceremoniously close to you, peering over onto the page you seem so fascinated with.

“Jesus Christ, Car!” you gasp, surprised by his close proximity. Your heart was beating faster as he took a step back. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his head hanging as he takes a few steps back. “Didn’t mean to.”

“No, it’s okay!” you assure. But it’s too late, so you change the subject, deciding to finish your story. “Anyways uh… I had to hang out with someone after you left New York. Make some new friends.”

“We both know you’ve never struggled with that,” Carmy points out, eliciting a playful eye roll from you.

He returns with the most aesthetically pleasing twirl of spaghetti carbonara. It’s so perfect you almost can’t fathom eating it. He hands it to you, then returns to his kitchen counter, plating a second bowl for himself.

After finishing the second twirl, he carelessly tosses his carving fork into the sink, opening another drawer to grab two forks for eating.

“Come on. You don’t want it to get cold,” he encourages, handing you one of the forks.

He waits patiently for you to try it first, so you dig your fork in, creating a spaghetti twirl that hugs the fork, before raising it up to your lips. You open your mouth, taking a bite, before closing your eyes in absolute bliss.

“I can’t fucking stand you.”

He smiles, and it’s the biggest smile you’ve seen on his face this whole week.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean. Fuck you. Like… absolutely fuck you.”

He laughs, finally picking up his own fork and digging into the second bowl he’s plate for himself.

Holy fuck, is it out of this world.

“Like, do you think they’re such a thing as a talent aggression? Like a cute aggression, only I want to squeeze your head off because you’re so damn talented-kind of aggression?” you pitch your idea to him, playfully.

He laughs, a blush spreading across his cheeks, “Uh… no. I don’t think so.”

Carmy rests his back against the counter, as you eat together, side by side. You eat quietly, exchange looks and quiet giggles as the two of you finish your pasta, slurping up the cheesy, egg-yolk coated noodles. When you finish your bowl, you put it down on the counter next to you, throwing your head back with a sigh.

“Thank you,” you say, fully satisfied as you feel the dopamine rush of eating carbs.

“That good, huh?” he asks, a cocky smirk on his face.

“So good,” you exhale happily, as you rest your head on his shoulder. “And you know it, you asshole.”

He chuckles, turning his head towards you just as you lift your head off of his shoulder, your faces mere inches away from each other. You watch as his face turns a few shades darker, the blush across his cheeks running through his whole face.

Are you two fucking idiots to pretend that you were just friends?

Yeah. Yes, you are.

“Sorry, I’m, I didn’t mean to um,” he stutters, beginning to pull away from you.

“Wait,” you call out, reaching out to stop him. You grab his arm.

And there it is again… the tension. That thing that, even when you had talked it out, has remained between you two. He stops moving, his eyes fixated on your hand – the one that’s reached for him. The one that feels hot against his skin.

“Carm, I-. Um, I’ve really missed…” you stammer through, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel.

I’ve really missed you.

“... your carbonara.” He looks up at you with those beautifully sad, cerulean blue eyes, and if you weren’t breathless before, you certainly are now.

“You should make this more often,” is all you manage to get out, and you know you sound helpless.

He doesn’t know what to say back. That he can hear the ache in your voice – a yearning for him that he never imagined anyone could ever have for him. That it’d be world war three, trying to get a carbonara on the dinner menu. That screaming would ensue over a goddamn emulsion. That there’d be no way to pull this off authentically, and that he’d have to use heavy cream, and no fucking way would he compromise on that.

On your favorite fucking dish.

That he only has these ingredients on hand because he went out and bought them in preparation for your visit.

That he only got them for you.

Because he maybe only wants to make carbonara for you, and only you, for forever and ever.

That he’s missed you too, and that wanting you is one of the scariest things he’s ever felt.

His eyes flicker from your hand, the one still holding onto him, and then back to your face. He’s not sure what possesses him to do it, but he can hear his brother’s voice in his head, let it rip, pushing him to lean in – even closer towards you. You wrap your fingers around his arm, encouraging him closer to you – if it’s even possible. Your foreheads meet and it’s as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. It’s like your vision narrows and the dimly lit apartment has faded away behind you.

It’s just you and him.

You feel dizzy – in the most delicious way possible.

You’re not sure who moves in first, but the tip of his nose is ever so gently bumping against yours. You brush the side of your nose against his, neither of you daring to take a breath.

“Carm?”

He doesn’t answer, so you gently begin to leave a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“This okay?”

Then the side of his top lip.

“Mhm,” he nods, eager to continue where this is going.

Then you pull back, pulling him towards you so that, as you remain perched on top of his kitchen countertop, he fits perfectly between your knees. You lean in to kiss him, and this time, it’s not as hesitant… not as cautious as you’ve both been.

No, these kisses are different, each one opening up the door to more and more – more want, more need, more lust – and as it blooms, as it blossoms, you feel Carmy’s hand move gingerly to cradle your face as you fall down the rabbit hole. Your fingers tangle into his blonde curls allowing your sheer want for him to consume you. It’s lips, and tangled tongues, and tentative, soft moans as you continue to pull each other closer and closer.

And you slowly begin to understand: the lingering tension, the avoidance of labeling you from his brother-in-law, why he’s been terrified to say a damn thing to you this entire week.

As much as you tried, and as much as he’s tried, neither of you had put that night behind you.

Sure, it was shitty timing, and sure he wasn’t in the right headspace then. But now?

Now, could be different, if you’d let it.

Carmy pulls away from you, reluctantly, his face hot before asking, “You uh, you wanna take this somewhere else?”

His tone is hopeful, as if he’s the teenage dirtbag asking the prom queen out – like if you heard him, and you laughed in his face, he simply wouldn’t survive it.

But your response is quite the opposite, and he feels silly for worrying, as you manage a breathy ‘yes’ going back in for one more kiss. He gives you some space to hop off the counter and you grab his hand, leading him towards his bedroom. It’s not a huge place, so you put two and two together about where that is. Carmy leaves the lights off in his bedroom, the only glimmer of light either of you can see comes from the living room lamps, and the kitchen overhead.

With his hand in yours, you pull him towards you again, and he’s more than happy to let you lead. You begin to kiss him, taking note of how perfectly his top lip feels nestled in between yours. He follows you down to his bed, hesitant to put his full body weight on top of you. You giggle into the kiss, pulling him down to you.

“I’m not a porcelain doll, Carm,” you tease, gently.

You feel his lips twist into a smile against yours, as he begins to leave sloppier, wetter kisses down your neck. You allow him to explore as his hesitation lessens, his hands beginning to bunch up the hemline of your shirt. Higher and higher. And before you know it, you’re taking it off, impatiently throwing it somewhere you’ll barely remember in the light of day. You pull Carmy back down for another kiss, this time with a little more intensity, as he covers his body with yours, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of newly revealed skin that he possibly can.

You’re not sure when his shirt joined yours on the floor but before it registers, you’re running your fingers across the muscles of his back, exploring each peak and valley. You hiss in pure pleasure as he pulls down one of the cups of your bra, his tongue running across one of your nipples. You can feel him smile against your skin, a well-won reaction from the pleasure he’s giving you. His other hand reaches up to give equal attention to your other breast, and moments later, you’re both impatiently pulling your bra off.

“Wanna try something,” Carmy murmurs, his eyes meeting yours.

You can feel the wet heat pooling between your legs as you breathe out, “Okay.”

The anticipation is building in your body and you feel like your head might explode. Carmy busies his mouth once again, leaving kisses down your torso as his hands begin to fiddle with the button on your jeans. You giggle, more than willing to help him out as he gets them undone, lifting your hips so that he can slide them off.

He’s hesitant, and you’re trying your damnedest to be patient as he takes his sweet time to marvel at your almost-naked body.

“So fucking perfect,” Carmy whispers, in between leaving wet, open mouthed kisses across your hip bones. You can hardly breathe, panting out loud as he continues his exploration. You make space for him between your legs as he slips his hands into your panties, dragging a finger up and down your dripping sex.

He checks in with you, gauging your reaction, and you nod as he continues what he’s doing.

“This all for me?” he asks. He means for it to sound confident, but as the words leave him, he sounds more surprised than anything.

Before you can answer, he’s pushing your legs wider, his tongue gently running across your clit, causing you to cry out to the gods. He’s tentative at first, but it doesn’t take long for him to gather up the confidence to keep going, with the noises you’re making. At first it’s all tongue, licking, circling and flattening up against you, but you’re losing your mind as he adds his fingers back into the mix. His fingers are buried deep inside of you while his lips and tongue are bringing you far past your edge.

It’s as if the only words you can remember are his name, and ‘fuck.’

You feel his lips curl into a smile against you as he murmurs, “Just wanna make you feel good.”

You can feel it – your climax – building up, and Carmy groans, rutting his hips into the bed as he can no longer ignore how hard he is.

“Carmy, yes. Don’t stop, please. I’m-,” you beg, your voice shaking.

And he has no intention of stopping till he gets what he wants – till he makes you cum. He works you through your orgasm, groaning against you as you cum on his tongue and around his fingers. You swear for a moment that you can’t hear a single thing as stars fill your vision. As you come to, it starts with only the sounds of the heavy pants that escape your mouth. Carmy sits up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Holy fuck,” you say, breathless.

Carmy lays over you once again, kissing you, and you can taste yourself on his lips.

Your hands fumble with the button on his jeans and you order, no patience left in a single cell of your body, “Off. These need to come off.”

He chuckles, hurrying through the removal of his jeans. You’re so eager to feel the weight of his body on top of yours again that you pull him back down to you before he’s even able to properly take them off.

He’s kissing you again as you reach down, grabbing his hard length through his underwear. He’s thicker than you remember. You slip your hand into the waistband of his briefs, causing him to grunt. He hisses your name as you wrap your soft hand around his dick, bucking his hips into your hand.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, desperately. “I wanna feel you, Carm.”

“Mhm.”

He doesn’t keep condoms around. It’s not like this happens very often for him. But Richie had thrown a pack of condoms at his head the minute he found out that the friend that was coming to visit was a girl. Richie had teased him with some stupid quip like ‘don’t forget to wrap it up, cousin. No one wants a mini-eleven madison park dickhead running around here.’

He hadn’t expected this to happen. But it’s not like he’d thrown the condoms away either – tucking them into the single drawer of his nightstand.

You wait as he reaches over and pulls out a condom from his nightstand. You want to ask him about why he has them, but as long as you get to feel him, you’re not sure you care.

You’ve been here before with him, but this is different. He sits up on his knees and you follow him, pulling his briefs down properly and giving him time to roll on the condom. He follows you back down onto the bed as you wrap a leg around his waist so that he can fit perfectly between yours.

He waits a beat, and then you feel his thick tip pushing against you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. He rubs the head up and down your slick core, before slowly beginning to push into you.

You both gasp at the feel of each other.

“Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he moans, dropping his head into the crevice of your neck. He hopes you can’t tell how utterly helpless he feels.

You hiss at the way he’s stretching you open, the pads of your fingertips digging into his arms. You’re holding onto his arms for dear life as he fills you all the way to the hilt. You let out another moan as you as he stays there for a moment.

“This okay?”

You nod, pulling him down to kiss you again. You start moving your hips against his as Carmy gives you shallow thrusts.

“Hold on,” he breathes out, holding your hips down for a moment. “Just-, just give me a second.”

And you do, allowing him to collect himself, before he’s giving you shallow, gentle thrusts.

But you’re in desperate need for more.

“Carmy?”

“Yeah?”

“Fucking move.”

Finally, finally, he pulls almost all the way out, before driving himself back into you, earning a cry from you as the pleasure is just too much.

“Oh fuck!”

You want more. You want everything and all of him and so much more. And he gives it to you, continuing to check in that what he’s doing is okay. Before you know it, you’re begging him to go faster, harder, convincing him that you’re not fucking breakable and that you want more, grasping at the sheets and his biceps, and his curls – anything you can hang on to as he’s bringing you over your edge again for the second time tonight.

You’re crying out his name as you cum, and Carmy thinks it may be the sweetest, best thing he’s ever heard in his life. He fucks you through your climax, beginning to slow down the pace of this thrusts. He pauses, kisses you long and hard, passionately pausing just to be in this moment with you.

“Carm?” you manage to get out. You wonder if he can hear how much you want him just by the sound of your voice.

“Hm?”

“I wanna ride you,” you say, and you can feel that your words have gone straight to his dick as he twitches inside of you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The two of you clumsily change positions – him on his back staring up at you in awe, like how the hell does that perfect, beautiful, creature want to be here with me now? You reach down, guiding him back inside of you and you’re both gasping at the contact. You begin grinding your hips against him, watching his eyes roll back as you make your movement a little bigger.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs out, the pleasure of it all taking over his brain.

You know he won’t last much longer as you begin to ride him, rocking your hips back and forth. Carmy hands are on your hips, then running up and down your torso, grabbing your tits, and then they’re pulling you down to him for another passionate makeout as you continue your movements. You can feel his thrusts becoming more erratic as he starts thrusting up into you. You keep riding him, reaching for his hands and placing them along your hips.

“Show me how you want it,” you whisper in between kisses.

“I think this is nice,” he manages to say.

“Show me how you want it, Carmen,” you demand, emphasizing your need for him with use of his full name. “Let me make you cum.”

You squeeze his hands against your ass, egging him on, and he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve this. He holds onto your hips, before thrusting up into you, setting a bruising pace as your moans become louder and louder. You scream out his name, as he brings you closer and closer to your high, chasing his with him.

He grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppier, messier, more desperate and you let him use your body in the most delicious ways.

“Are you gonna cum?”

Instead of answering, he’s driving into you like a fucking mad man, and you’re riding him through his high till you both collapse.

Carmy lets out a strangled moan as he cums, so you begin to slow your movements. You’re breathless, hunched over him, your foreheads touching as you exchange a laugh.

It's a kind of 'I can't believe we just did that' kind of laugh.

“Holy shit,” he says, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” you agree, a stupid, blissed out smile on both of your faces.

“That was-.”

“Yeah.”

You get off of him, allowing him to get up and dispose of the condom. He’s not gone long before he returns to you, wrapping the both of you up in his sheets and into his arms. It feels unlike anything you’ve ever had.

It feels… magnificent.

“Stay with me tonight?” he asks, leaving a few soft kisses along your shoulder.

“After that?” you giggle, as his lips against your neck begin to tickle. “You’re not getting rid of me, Berzatto. Not a fucking chance.”

read: part five

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