#THE BEAR

[afrofairysblog]

Spoiler Alert for S4 of The Bear featuring Sydcarmy teheheheh

BRIDGERTON Season 2 Episode 07 "Harmony"

[andiberzatto]

Firm believer in carmy whispering “I love you” when he thinks his girlfriend is asleep. It’s too daunting to say to her face. So he says it in his actions and only in his words only when he thinks she can’t hear him.

“Did you eat today? I made extra if you want any” I love you.

“Just one more kiss before I leave for work.. please” I love you.

A goofy smile plastered onto his face the moment you walk into his field of vision. I love you.

Him, never wanting to be touched during a panic attack but asking her to hold him in the most broken sentence he can manage. I love you.

Nonstop cracking jokes until she smiles when she’s having a hard day. I love you.

Rubbing her calves after she gets off of work without her asking. I love you.

Stealing glances at her because he thinks she looks the prettiest when she’s unaware that he’s looking. I love you.

Taking candid photos of her and making a private Instagram of them all with zero followers and following no one, it’s just a digital journal all his own. he’s not sure he will ever show anyone maybe not even her. I love you.

[whereubeenloca]

Tupperware

Part 6 of the Neighbor! Reader series: Table of contents

Summary: You return Carmy's tupperware

Pairing: Carmy x Reader

Tags: VERY Slow burn, Awkward, Jealousy, Claire mention

Word Count: 908

a/n Sorry for the wait! Life got in the way for a while, hope y'all enjoy!

Wanna be added to the tag list? Comment/ MSG me!

Tag List: @criesinlies @amberpanda99 @marchsfreakshow @leminjelly

This isn’t weird.

Why would it be? What’s weird? Nothing. You’re just nonchalantly returning containers to your neighbor in a super chill, super cool way. Sure, maybe you panicked at the idea of returning empty containers. And yeah, maybe you spent way too much time trying to bake the most perfect cookies ever. But you totally don’t have a freezer full of mistakes that you’ll be slowly whittling your way through. Of course not, that would be ridiculous. 

The stairs creek as you reach the landing leading to Carmy’s door. Your hands are full so you elect to kick the bottom corner of the door instead of a knock. Carmy is quick to answer, a smile spreading across his face as he sees you. 

“Hey- sorry, I didn’t text first. I just uh, wanted to return these?” You smile sheepishly, shifting the containers in your arms. 

“Sure, yeah come in.” He says, stepping aside to let you in. 

His apartment looks similar to yours. A short hallway leads to a kitchen and living area. The kitchen to the right is walled off completely from the living room. His walls are white, no photos, no posters, and he doesn’t even have hooks for his coats. You peek at his living room, simple furniture but not much else. It looks like he just moved in.

“Kitchen’s over here.” He says, guiding you to your right. 

He has an island, your kitchen doesn’t have that. You carefully place the containers into the center.

“You have butcher block counters? How’d you get Randy to install this?” You gape, running your hand over the wood.

He scoffs in response “Randy didn’t do shit, it’s a cart.” He explains, tapping his foot to the side. A hollow sound rings out. 

“Oh, wow. Fooled me.” You smile. He laughs.

“So…” Carmy interjects, gesturing to the containers. “Whatcha’ got?” 

“Cookies. Nothing special.” You say, poking the lid of the tallest deli container. 

He pops open the container, picking the first cookie on the top and biting into it. “S’pretty good.” He says between bites. 

“You think? I uh, browned the butter n’stuff. Tried to make them fancy.” You say, digging the toe of your sneaker into the tile.

Your eyes wander around his kitchen as he eats. He keeps it clean, that’s for sure. The counters are bare save for a knife block and a roll of paper towels. His sink is empty, your eyes finally land on the dish rack. A pot, two plates, and two wine glasses stare back at you. You hate how your stomach twists, quit being weird. 

Carmy makes a face like he’s focusing, waving his hand around vaguely as he chews. 

“Cinnamon?” He says finally. 

“What?” You ask, snapping back to reality.

“In the cookies.” He says, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Did you put cinnamon in them?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s good, right?” You give him a tight-lipped smile as your mind goes into overdrive. 

You don’t even hear his response, all you can think about is who he had in here. He probably made her dinner, something nice. He probably walked her through the whole thing, talking about every ingredient, and explaining each step. If he made her dinner it’s probably serious, right? It must be, you don’t just do that as the first date. You rub your thumb over the surface of the butcher block counter, tracing the same deep cuts over and over. 

You focus your eyes back on Carmy and he’s staring. Why’s he staring, what the fuck is he staring at. His mouth moves again and you don’t quite catch it. Oh shit, you’re in the middle of a conversation. What was he even talking about? Fuck, think of something to say, anything-

“Can I uh, use your bathroom?” The words fumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. 

Okay, maybe not anything. 

“Oh, yeah sure,” Carmy responds, cocking his head to the side a bit. He nods towards the hallway. “First on your left.” 

“Thanks.” You breathe, crossing the kitchen quickly. 

You shut the door behind you, taking a moment to steady yourself. It isn’t weird to use your neighbor's bathroom, is it? No. Of course not. The bathroom is small, the fan blows obnoxiously as your eyes skim the space.

 One step forward, you glance towards the toilet. No waste bin, no pads. That’s a good sign. You’re snooping, that’s weird. You shake off your thoughts as you peer into the tub, hands clasped behind your back. It isn’t snooping if you don’t move anything. You’re just seeing. Three-in-one shampoo, body wash, loofah. 

She isn’t here often, maybe it wasn’t as serious as you thought. Now you’re speculating, that’s weirder.

You turn to the sink, the final test. Not a test, you’re not testing anything. Hand soap, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss - huh, didn’t peg him for a flosser. You smile to yourself as you reach over to the toilet and give it a flush to cover your tracks. You run the sink and wash your hands. 

Maybe it was nothing, maybe she didn’t even sleep over. As you dry your hands from the situation, you step forward only to be met with a small metallic click. Your gaze shifts to the tile, scooting your sneaker back to reveal a small golden hoop earring.  You reset your jaw before kicking it under the lip of the sink, out of sight. Good luck, girl.

[minidodds]

[afrofairysblog]

This is so CUTE🥹

I just know she'll be the flyest Kpop Star

Picture perfect Syd

Drawing one of my favorite characters in pretty fits number 3,645-

Drew this cause I saw this tweet and had to find a whole fit revolving around it 🙂‍↕️

[catharticconsolation]

requests bot dump: valentine’s release

the iron claw.

♡David Von Erich- white wedding (by billy idol) Honeymooning on tour after a quick, rushed wedding was not the most romantic thing in the world. But to David, it was perfect, watching you sleep all soft and hazy next to him in a shitty motel bed. Because he’s with you.

♡Kerry Von Erich- someday we might (fallingforyou by the 1975)- Kerry’s been seeing you around, in the crowds of his matches, hanging around and cheering and so, so excited. Yet it still shocks him to see you in the back alley outside the venue, long after the fight is done, hands holding out a pen and a picture for him to sign, all alone in the cold.

shameless.

♡Lip Gallagher- enough for me to love (gypsy by fleetwood mac)- No one ever thought that Lip Gallagher would settle down. But here he is, with a girl and a baby boy, his little love, and a finally stable job. Maybe he’s healing.

♡Carl Gallagher- think you might hate me (girl, so confusing by charli xcx)- Neither of you know what’s going on between the two of you, and yet the bitterness and the hatred seems so, so satisfying.

challengers.

♡Patrick Zweig- jesus can always reject his father (family tree by ethel cain)- Patrick is in love with the pastor’s daughter, and communities like to turn on those who are different.

♡Patrick Zweig- make me dream of you (wicked game by chris isaak)- The world doesn’t know you. The world knows you from the stage, from being half naked and wrapped round a pole. But Patrick knows the real you, and he wants you.

misc.

♡Chandler Bing- so full of love, could barely eat (work song by hozier)- Chandler doesn’t often find himself being serious, but when his baby is upset, he suddenly knows just how to be tender, as if it’s second nature.

♡Carmen Berzatto- the street where mothers weep (i want you by bob dylan)- Family dinners never go well in the Berzatto household, and Carmy seems even more on edge just trying to keep you happy during your first time amidst the chaos. But he gets snappy, as always, and he always comes out as the asshole.

♡Kenickie Murdoch- born to handjive, baby- Kenickie is a sleaze, always has been and always will be. But it doesn’t deter you from hanging around, prancing around on his arm at every school dance.

♡Bob Dylan- melt back in the night, babe (it ain’t me, babe by bob dylan/ joan baez)- It’s easy for Bobby to switch up between oh so loving to closed off and empty. And yet, on mornings like this, you just wish that he’d come back to bed.

♡Spencer Reid- les (by childish gambino)-Spencer is getting tired of hiding you, and he might just be a little tipsy in the back of a taxi, sending the sneakiest of pictures of you to Morgan. He’s always said that he hates secrets.

♡Jake Peralta- crawling back to you (do i wanna know? by hozier)- Jake knows that he’s annoying, and he likes to think that he knows when to stop. But no, he doesn’t stop until you get scolded by the captain, and all of a sudden, he feels awfully, terribly sorry.

notes: these are all requested bots, sorry if they aren’t very good or valentines themed, it’s just that i didn’t really have much time to make anything else. credit to @toastray for the amazing dividers!

the link to each bot is the little red heart, happy Valentine’s Day, remember that bots aren’t real people, take a break if you find yourself getting too attached x

[chrisevansredbelt]

Playing Dangerous

pairing: dbf!frank castle x reader

warnings: not really any! this is kind of a backstory intro. death, funeral, smoking, drinking, drugs, and the sheer thought of jon bernthal.

summary: after your fathers death, you find yourself familiarising yourself with his best friend. his hot, dilfy, big thighed best friend.

multiple parts planned! all inspired by lana del rey songs

a/n: me when im back bc i missed writing... anyway this is a somewhat different universe to my og dbf!frank story but also not because it follows the same concept of lana del rey songs.

ALSO even though it is frank castle... im using characters from the bear... sorry i guess i really am only using frank because of the name i just didnt feel right writing jon or michael SORRY

and i am also using sex and the city characters too okay im sorry if nothing makes sense now but ENJOY

playing dangerous by lana

.・。.・゜.☘︎ ݁˖ ・.・𝄞・゜・。.

Pulling up beside the familiar cars parked in front of the church, Frank swiftly gets out of his truck, shutting the car door behind him. His brother Carmen, and cousin Richie, stand by their cars, gathering however once Frank approaches them.

"Thought we weren't gonna see another one of these until it was one of our own and when we're 80." Richie notes, hands on hips as the three of them observe the crowd of black disappearing through the church doors.

Frank scoffs, "Yeah, well, Brock loved stupid games." He marvels at the amount of people who showed up. Brock always made note of how many enemies he had, he must have forgot to mention how many friends he had too.

Brock was Franks best friend. Ever since being enlisted together, they were pretty inseparable. They then went on to work with each other, shady business that subsequently cost Brock his life.

Brock was on the run from police... corrupt police who would do anything for $20 and a donut. Brock had a hit out on him ever since fucking over an old acquaintance by insulting his wife.

As cops chased him down one night, he was cornered. Brock ended up shooting and killing the cop he hated but was subsequently shot and killed by another.

Some good did end up coming about Brock's passing though, as an investigation was launched into the dead officer and the bribe's he took. Which ended up revealing an international bribe ring of some sort that landed Brock's enemy in jail with a hefty sentence.

Frank wished he had been with him that night, wondering if Brock's life could have been spared in any way. But on the flip side, Frank knew that Brock would have died happy killing the officer he hated so much and recalled the many nights Brock had confessed his disdain against the lifestyle he landed himself in.

"At least he's with his wife now." Carm then adds, earning a nod from the others.

As the last of the guests enter the building, Frank decides it's probably time to follow suit.

As painful as it would be to see his best friend no longer living, they all had a few words to say in the session and there was no backing out now.

Though everyone was still finding their seats, when the three men had entered, they had all still managed to give them pitiful looks. Eyes reading 'Sorry for your loss'.

The three of them make their way to the front row of seats, joining the few others that had clearly arrived earlier.

"Hey," Their sister, Natalie, smiles up at them, scooching over on the pew as they take their seats next to her. They offer greeting smiles back. Frank gazes around the church, admiring the many eyes of religious figures that stare back at him. "Hey, did you see his daughter turned up?" Natalie adds in a quiet whisper, making the three of them shoot their heads around in the direction of her gaze.

There, in the front row beside them sat you. Brock's only child and daughter. Everyone kind of just knew of you and your existence, but never actually saw you.

Though Brock always bragged and boasted about you, how beautiful you were, how proud of you he was, the truth was that he rarely saw you. A few years after he had left you, he occasionally made the effort to at least see you on birthdays and Christmas. But his visits slowly died off.

The relationship was still there, you texted and he sent you letters and money, but you lived with your friend and her family for most of your teen years.

Richie nudged Carmen, wiggling his brows, whilst Frank just takes you in. The men can’t help but ogle at you. You were almost like a fable or myth, and seeing you now for the first time ever was strange.

"Poor kid." Natalie purses her lips, brows furrowed in concern.

Frank knew he had to speak to you. Maybe it was the fact that you were his life long best friend’s daughter. Or maybe it was the funny feeling in his stomach as his eyes scanned your figure.

-

You watch as people leave in their expensive cars down the gravel road, sighing in relief at the lack of attention you were now getting.

Your father was laid to rest in the cemetery beside the church, in a space next to your mother.

Though few people still linger around their cars parked on the other side of the church, you keep your head down and make your way back up the church steps, pushing your way through the big, wooden doors.

You were glad no one else was here. Your social battery was drained for the month after today and you didn’t think you could take another ‘I’m so sorry for your loss’, ‘Your dad was a great man’, ‘I’m sure he’s happy to be reunited with your mother’, 'I didn't know he had a daughter'.

You made your way to a random row and knelt on both knees, clasping your hands in front of you and bowing your head.

You weren't entirely religious, nor did you really know what you were praying for. All you knew was that if someone saw you, they would at least respect the gesture and leave you alone.

Wrong.

You hear the church doors open behind you and you close your eyes, quietly sighing. Whoever it is, they do not speak, but you can feel their eyes burning a hole through your back.

Out of curiosity, you lift up your head and turn to the back of the church.

Oh?

"Hi," The man greets sheepishly, "I'm sorry if I’m interrupting.” A small, reassuring smile on his face. You stay silent but shake your head softly, allowing him to continue. He takes a few steps closer, "I'm Frank."

You blink up at him a few times until you connect the dots on who this Frank person really was (and stop ogling at his god-like face) "Oh." You let out accidentally, before clearing your throat and correcting yourself, "Yeah, I’m familiar with the name." You choke out, standing from your kneeling position out of respect... though you wouldn't entirely mind staying down there- God, you mentally slap yourself and remind yourself that you're in a church. And on top of that, you knew of Frank to be your dad’s friend... his best friend. You never saw him or heard anything else about him other than him being your dad’s best friend, but it was nice to finally put a pretty face to the name, “I’m Y/N.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He smiles warmly now, extending a hand out for you to shake which you do so quite timidly, "Listen, if you need anything… I know you've probably heard that a lot today, but I'm probably the only one who really means it." He jokes and you can't help but let out a small smile.

“Thank you.” You nod. He was right though. Out of all of them, Franks did seem the most genuine. "Thanks for taking the time to check up on me."

He nods in response before reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a wallet and from that wallet, a small card, "Here, take my number." You take the small business card from him, "If you really ever need anything, reach out… If I had knew your dad would pass so soon, I’m sure I would’ve promised him to look out for you.”

You weren’t annoyed by Frank’s social interaction, unlike everybody else who talked to you today. Everyone else just seemed so full of shit. And Frank at least knew who you were.

-

You watch as another car passes by before sighing. The heat was starting to get to you a little and as the sun began to set, it landed opposite you, blinding your eyes.

After the funeral, you made the decision to walk to the closest bus stop and make your way back home that way. Though you caught an Uber to the church, you couldn’t bare any more questions or painfully awkward small talk about your day. So you opted for the bus.

The area was nice in any case, a small neighbourhood 20 minutes from Manhattan where you used to live as a child.

It was nice to experience the silence as well. You were so used to the loud of the city that you’d almost forgotten what it was like to just sit with nothing but the birds, the bugs and the leaves. And to actually see the sun without being blocked by some high rise building.

As you zoned out, staring at the ground, you hear the bus finally arrive. Only, you thought it was the bus. You look up and you’re met with a black pick up truck coming to a stop right in front of you and now your heart races.

The window rolls down and a familiar face slightly judges you, "You seriously taking the bus?"

You stand from your seat, small kitten heels clanking against the concrete as you step closer to Franks truck.

You're kind of loss for words. You had made sure to linger in the church for a while and only left when you believed everyone else to have already left. Frank must have stalled in the cemetery or something?

“I..." You start, "I thought it would be relaxing.” You explain vaguely, shrugging your shoulders. Frank quirks a brow and you sigh in defeat, “I didn’t feel like talking to nosy Uber drivers.”

Frank cracks a smile, shaking his head and reaches over to the passenger door, unlocking it for you, "Get in."

You're unsure what it is that makes you give in to getting into his car. Perhaps that Frank was probably the closest thing to your father that you were ever going to get in your life and you automatically felt safe with him. Whatever it was, it felt right.

Jumping into his car, you get comfortable, admiring the interior of it. You couldn’t help but notice, however, the faint smell of either cigar or weed lingering in the car, mixed with the efforts of the Black Ice air freshener dangling from his rear view.

Not only this, but you see his packet of cigarettes in his cup holder.

You’d been dying for a cigarette ever since the funeral started, but couldn’t bring yourself to whip one out as you walked to the bus stop- more concerned about your heels and feet surviving the journey rather than your urge for nicotine. And you refrained from doing so at the bus stop in case it pulled up any second.

“May I?” You ask after rummaging through your purse and holding up the small box of sticks.

“Go ahead.” Frank shrugs with a soft smile, “Where do you live?”

You blow out your plume of smoke out the previously opened window, offering it to him, “West 84th.”

“Upper West side.” He notes with an impressed nod, taking your cigarette from you gratefully.

You raise your brows a little, you could not believe it either that you lived there now, "Inheritance came in handy."

The drive to the city with Frank was nice. It wasn’t awkward and you were able to keep a steady conversation. You could definitely see why Frank was a life long friend.

"Which one is it?" Frank asks, cutting your thoughts short as he pulls into your street.

"This white one here." You point and Frank's lucky that there's a vacant spot out front. He seems impressed by your house as he leans over his wheel to get a look at it while he parks.

To be truthfully honest, you were a little bummed once you had come to a stop.

"Do you wanna come in?" You don't even realise what you're asking until it's already out and Frank's looking at you dumbly. Fuck. “I-I just got so much of his stuff, m-maybe you can help me figure out what to do with it?” You try to cover up.

You internally cringe however as you wait for his answer. Why the hell did you just invite this man into your home without hesitation?

You really didn't expect the words to come out of your mouth. But what was even more surprising was Frank's answer, "Sure."

You take Frank up the small stairs to your house, unlocking the door, “Sorry, it’s a bit messy.” You apologise as he walks in after you. You watch as he takes in your apartment and feel a little insecure for some reason. God, what did it matter what this man thought of your brand new apartment?

“No, it's nice.” He nods and you feel yourself relax. He makes his way into your living room and stares at the piles of boxes and plastic covered furniture. The last of your furniture had arrived yesterday and you had no time, or energy (or frankly manpower for that matter) to sort it out.

"It's a work in progress." You sigh, "I always imagined this to be something my dad would have helped me with." You admit and again, cringe at yourself for being so depressing.

"I can always lend a hand?" Frank offers.

You open and close your mouth like a fish. You didn't mean for Frank to get to that conclusion but at the same time, Frank seemed like he was already going to offer. But you were too humble to say yes, even if you were too cheap to get movers (even though you now had money, old habits never die) and you were convinced you could do it on your own.

But now that Franks offering, you’d be stupid to decline.

The one thing that needed to be put together was your bed, but aside from that your furniture was old, vintage pieces. They were also light so it’s not like it would be entirely arduous labour for Frank, but it would just mean a lot less chain smoking and broken nails for you.

You ended up ordering pizza for the both of you and fuelled Frank with beer as he got to work on setting up your furniture. You helped him out with the light work, but you mostly just smoked and chatted away.

Frank had no issue with it though.

Frank told you many stories about your dad. You realised Franks memories with him definitely outnumbered your own, which was humbling to say the least.

You found the both of you now seated on the hardwood floor of your home, taking a break as you take the time to really talk and eat.

"Can I ask..." Frank starts carefully, and you're mindless to what he's about to ask, "Did you resent your dad?" His question makes you put down your drink, " It's just- you seem to be taking his passing quite well and you were actually at the funeral... Most people I know in a situation like yours wouldn't do such a thing."

You dart your eyes around the room, running the question through your head. You, too, had realised that your own fathers passing hadn't made you a hysterical wreck, like it would have made most people. You also questioned why.

When you got the news that your dad died, you cried but only sparingly and never again after that day. But you went to class the next day, drinks with the girls the next. What the hell was wrong with you?

"I know the shady shit he did killed my Mom." You tell Frank, "I did actually resent him for a while for leaving, then I accused him of killing her and didn't talk to him for a few years." You admit shamefully, "But as I got older, I understood him leaving was keeping me safe and I couldn't argue with that... As for the day he died..." You begin, but take a second to find the words, "I don't know... I guess... it's like he's not really gone." You say, but watch as Frank tilts his head a little in confusion, "Well, he is gone... but it's felt like that for a long time now... Maybe I'm used to it." You feel as though you've just solved the mystery. You feel hot all of a sudden, looking up at Frank and seeing his eyes staring right back at yours. You clear your throat, "Um- What about you? H-How did you handle it?"

"Oh, man." He starts, shaking his head, "It was one of the worst days of my life... I was a wreck." He admits. This might be unfair to say, but you didn't expect a man like Frank to be so open about his emotions, "But your father was all about seeing the good and I just thought, he would kick my ass if he saw me like this instead of celebrating the life we had together and the man he was."

It was silent after that, but you must note that it was a comfortable silence. You let each other sit with the feelings from the conversation had and it felt nice.

Frank is the first to break the silence, by nudging your foot with his, “But what's up with you, girl? Are you in college?”

You smile at him and his effort to lighten the mood a little, “I graduated last year in journalism.” You sigh. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking, certainly not for New York. But it was the only thing that really interested you- having spent most of your formative years journaling your each and every thought, experience and emotion. Writing just came natural to you, “What about you? Are you married?”

Fuck, was that too forward?

“I am not married, no.” Frank answers anyway, with a laugh even.

You would be lying if you said you didn't search for a ring when he first introduced himself to you. What could you say, he was a gentlemen. And plus, you wanted to ask in case you just so happened to be keeping him from her by having pizza and beer at your house while he helps you build your furniture.

Yep, that's the only reason.

Frank only stayed for about an hour longer after that. It had gotten pretty late anyway and you were both tired from the day you had.

You walked Frank to the door, giving him a new case of beer as a means of thanks. Seriously, with Frank's help, all you really have left to do is unpack your boxes and decorate the house.

“Thanks for all your help, Frank.” You say, unable to even recall how many times you've expressed your thanks today.

“And I mean it when I said to call me if you need anything.” He reminds, pointing at you and you roll your eyes.

If you were dying or in jail, maybe. But you didn't have many plans to bother Frank. You wish you could-

“Where do you live?” You ask, simply out of curiosity... or desire to be in his presence longer.

“Engelwood.”

You widen your eyes, but then furrow your brows, “You drove me all the way here even though you lived like 5 minutes away from the church?” You ask in disbelief. He just laughs as an answer, meanwhile you're rummaging to the side through your foyer drawers and handing him a bunch of crumpled President Jacksons, “Here.”

He laughs down at the money, pushing it back to you, “Sweetheart, I’m not taking your money.”

You look at the money shoved into your chest in defeat. But you know he's not going home without something, “Fine.” You mutter before digging through your purse on the same table.

You pull out your metal cigarette case and hand him a pre-roll that you planned to smoke after the funeral.

Frank looks at it longingly, averting his gaze back and forth before slowly bringing a hand up to take it, “Fan of the Blazy Susan’s I see.” He notes, eyeing the pink paper and you roll your eyes.

“Oh, is it too girly for you?” You mock, leaning against your door, contempt now that you've paid your dues.

He tucks the joint behind his ear in response, “Whoever you're buying from, tell 'em you've found someone new."

You're not surprised Frank grows and sells, but you scoff at his persistent concern about you, "I'm sure my weed isn't laced." You assure him.

He shrugs, "Maybe not, but at least mines free."

He had you there. Weed was an expensive habit and you'd considered stopping for a while now, but could never bring yourself to do it. And now that is free and most definitely safe, you wonder if you'll ever stop.

You bid Frank a final farewell and safe drive as he takes the steps down to his car. You wait and watch as he drives down the road and only retreat back inside once he's around the corner.

You can't help but miss his company now that the house is quiet, but lingers his smell.

And as Frank drives through the quiet streets of the city, he can't help but wonder... as do you as you flop into bed...

'Why do I feel this way?' Shortly accompanied with, 'Would it really be that bad?'

.・。.・゜.☘︎ ݁˖ ・.・𝄞・゜・。.

MANY PARTS TO COME

i hope ive hooked you in, im excited for this series

thanks for reading okey byeeee

[gingerteafairy]

𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞

Somethings drag on for too long.

tags n warnings: carmy berzatto x reader, language, longtime friends, suggestive, slow burn past. word count: 2.4k masterlist

Everyone knew Carmy was a little bossy. Well, it was part of his job. Maybe he didn’t like giving orders, especially when they often ended with someone yelling or feeling desperate. However, your relationship with him seemed too close to be labeled as authoritarian abuse, free therapy sessions, or toxic interactions. Damn, you had known him for so long. You’d gone through so many seasons together—trends, wines, changes. Everything seemed to evolve except for the complex dynamic between you and Carmen Berzatto.

“That’s wrong.” Carmy’s voice cut through the kitchen noise, as if he could telepathically sense you skimping on a few sealing seconds out of sheer laziness.

“I know,” you replied without looking, reigniting the flame and moving forward. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be good enough.

"God, Carm,” Marcus grumbled, drying his hands to return to his station beside the chef. "Chill."

“She knows how I am,” was all Carmy needed to say, putting a quiet end to the conversation. Each of you returned to your tasks. "She has known me for a long time. Knows how i work."

“Hands!” you called, plating the dish in the designated container. Everything was just as perfect as Carmy had wanted.

“Chef, can you grab my knife from the other station, please?” Carmy asked, lifting his head just enough to meet your eyes.

“I’m only doing this because I love you,” you teased.

You smiled as light as a feather, heading to the sink to wash your hands before fetching what he needed. The air in the kitchen thickened—though perhaps it was floating rather than heavy—because everyone could see the shared sweetness in the smiles you and Carm exchanged over that dish he was finishing with Marcus.

Handing him the knife, your fingers lingered on his for just a second longer than necessary. You could feel the sugary tension in the air, and an involuntary smile tugged at your lips as you returned to your station. Maybe you had known Carm for too long to change anything now.

Carmen found himself watching your back, like he was trying to figure out what expression you were wearing without having to ask. He knew you were focused. The little curve of your lips when things didn’t turn out how you wanted. The way your brows knit together before you relaxed, remembering how frowning could cause wrinkles. He even pictured you mentally griping about your oily skin and how no cream ever seemed to help. The worst part? He was dead-on. And like you, he felt like he’d known you too long to want anything to change.

You could feel his eyes on you. Your cheeks warmed—not from the kitchen’s heat, but from the sparks in Carmy’s blue eyes. You knew his tells: how he scratched his nose when he was nervous, or how Marcus teased him for staring at you too long for just a boss.

Everybody knew. You both knew.

This unspoken game always made time fly. Maybe just the idea of being close to Carmy was more addicting than the idea of actually being with him. Fear of rejection? Probably. Mostly from him.

As the shift wound down, he quietly set a small slice of pie on your workstation and slipped off to check something in the fridge. His shoulder brushed yours as he passed—so subtle, but deliberate.

You found yourself smiling as you packed up and finally rewarded your taste buds with another one of his masterpieces. You’d wanted to go to Copenhagen with him. Not just for the work. You wanted to share those nights on that tiny boat. To bump into him while moving around, bicker over who got the bathroom first, and watch each other over morning coffee.

You took your time with every bite, savoring each piece like it was gold. In the fridge, Carmen lingered. He tried cooling his body, his mind—maybe his whole life. He worried the pie had come out too dense. He didn’t realize he’d been gone too long until the silence got heavy, and he timidly twisted the lock.

You were still there, pie half-finished.

Damn. Too dense. His chest tightened at your slow chewing, not realizing it was for the opposite reason—it was light as air, like the curls brushing his forehead. You just wanted to savor every second.

“Hey, you wanna head out?” His voice was soft as he scratched the back of his head. He often drove you home after work, but tonight it felt… different.

“Sure.” You took another bite, speeding up to finish. Not a crumb left behind.

“Where to?” He cleared his throat and rubbed his nose. Definitely nervous. That was rare for Carmy. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw him this jittery around you.

“I’ll go wherever you go.” You pulled off your apron, stepping toward the lockers.

“Cool. Follow me.”

“I will.”

It felt like a familiar song—something you’d heard a hundred times but never got sick of. Carmy followed you, your lockers side by side. You bent to grab your bag, and his stubborn gaze followed before he quickly looked away as you stood. You both exchanged smiles before heading to his car.

He’d driven you countless times, yet it always felt new to him. You climbed in, and he started the engine. The destination felt as unclear as it did certain—a pull leading you both somewhere.

“There,” you pointed toward a park. He nodded.

It wasn’t too dangerous—people still strolled here at this hour. You gave a small, awkward smile, realizing couples often came here to kiss or lean on each other under the trees. But this was Carmy. What could you do?

He parked and turned off the engine. Neither of you moved. Realizing it, he switched on the heater and reluctantly turned to you. You’d already been looking at him for a while.

“How you doin’?” His voice broke the quiet. You paused, then turned toward him.

“Good. I think.” You didn’t want to overthink it. Life wasn’t bad—just… monotonous. “What about you?”

“Good.” He shifted in his seat, hands gripping the wheel. Then he exhaled. “Actually, no. I’m good, but I’m nervous. I’m always so fucking… wired.”

“Same.” You sighed heavily. “You still in therapy?”

“Yeah… Actually, AA. I told you.”

“That’s right. Sorry, I forgot.” You unbuckled to sit more comfortably. He did the same, resting his hands in his lap. You pulled out your phone. “How are you today?”

The app showed a smiley face that changed with his input. Carmy chuckled, sliding the bar to neutral. Neither positive nor negative. But when he looked at you again, he changed it to a smile. "Good day."

“Where’d you get that?”

“Found it when I was feelin’ pretty low and wanted to track it,” you explained, tucking your phone away. “You’d be surprised how many neutral faces are logged in there.”

“I wouldn’t be any different.” He let out a soft laugh. “Sometimes I don’t know what to do with my future. Makes me anxious.”

“Same.” You laughed, though it felt more bittersweet.

Carmy’s phone buzzed. He checked it, shaking his head with a smile.

“What’s up?” You leaned in. He lowered his phone.

“Richie. Sending pictures of half-naked dudes and saying happy birthday. And it’s not even my birthday.”

“That’s your idea of ‘heavy’?” You teased as he put his phone away.

“Yeah… guess it’s not heavy.” His smile lingered as he ran a hand over his face, trying to smother the laugh bubbling up.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What do you think about dating?” Your heart wavered, but your voice stayed steady. Carmy clicked his tongue, seeming to chew over the question.

He scratched his head, sighing before answering. “I never got far enough to have an opinion. You know that.”

“I know.” You responded, feeling a little more awkward this time. “Have you had your first kiss?”

“Yeah. Actually… I had my first kiss when I was, like, 3.” He laughed, the ridiculous memory shaking through his body. “I was trying to copy… I dunno… something I saw on a soap opera.”

“What were we thinking, huh?” You chuckled with him, the mood lightening, opening up a little more. “I’ve had a few. But I dunno. It’s like, when things start heating up, I kinda lose interest. Like, ‘well, I’m here now.’”

“Yeah… exactly. There are highs—everything’s great for a minute, then…” He traced a sudden dip with his hand, shaking his head. “It just disappears. And I’m stuck there, same as before.”

“Feels like the idea of being close is way more interesting than actual closeness.” You said thoughtfully, and he stopped, snapping his fingers.

“That’s it.” He licked his lips, glancing around before settling his gaze back on you. “We’re cut from the same cloth.”

“Yeah…” You exhaled, the laughter fading into a comfortable silence. “Wanna kiss?”

“Sure.” He laughed, the sound growing louder as you puckered your lips dramatically. “What’s that?”

“A kiss.” You laughed, blowing him an air kiss that he caught and pressed to his chest. Then his hand moved up, pressing to his lips. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Kiss.” He whispered, resting his hands back on his lap. His lips insisted on curving into a smile. You turned your head to hide yours, just like he did.

For a brief moment, you wanted the playful game to continue—wanted something different. But who knows? Maybe that moment had come and gone. Maybe it had stretched too long.

The silence stayed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like something unspoken hung in the air—heavy with expectation. Carmy let out a long breath, rubbing his hands on his thighs like he was trying to work out some kind of nervous energy.

“You think we’ve been putting something off?” he asked, his gaze fixed straight ahead, like he couldn’t bring himself to look at you.

Your heart jumped at the question. Of course, you’d thought about it before, but hearing it from him made it feel real.

“Maybe,” you answered, softer than you intended. “But if we are… what do you wanna do about it?”

Carmy finally turned his head toward you. His blue eyes locked on yours—intense, but laced with uncertainty. “I’m not good at this. Like, saying what I want. What I feel. It’s just easier when I’m working.”

“What if it doesn’t have to be perfect? What if it just… happens?” you suggested, hoping to ease the weight pressing on his chest.

A small, crooked smile tugged at his lips—one of those rare, genuine smiles. “You always make things sound simpler.”

“Maybe because sometimes they are. We just make ‘em complicated.”

You held each other’s gaze for a long moment. The warmth of the car heater wrapped around you both, making the space feel even more intimate. Carmy’s hands tightened on the steering wheel before he let out another deep breath.

“Wanna take a walk?” he asked, his eyes flickering away for a second before landing back on you.

“Yeah,” you said with a soft smile, sensing the shift in the air.

You stepped out of the car together, walking along the park path. Distant sounds of footsteps and laughter filled the night air, mingling with the occasional rustle of leaves. Conversation came easier—work stories, childhood memories, even a few half-formed plans for the future.

After a while, Carmy came to a stop. He turned to face you, hesitation mingling with a newfound determination in his expression.

“Can I try somethin’?” he asked, voice low and careful.

“Yeah. You can.”

He stepped in closer, the distance between you shrinking until the air felt charged, heavy with unsaid words and possibilities. The sounds of the park faded into the background—the faint rustle of leaves and distant footsteps no longer mattered. The only thing you were aware of was him.

Carmy hesitated, his gaze searching yours as if silently asking for permission. There was a vulnerability in his eyes—an openness he rarely let anyone see. His hand twitched slightly at his side, as if he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure he should. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he leaned in.

Time seemed to slow down. His breath mingled with yours, warm against the cool night air. He moved with that same mixture of care and uncertainty that was so distinctly him—measured, cautious, but also raw with emotion.

When his lips finally brushed yours, it was gentle—like he was afraid to break something fragile. Yet there was a quiet intensity beneath it, a weight carried by all the moments you’d both left unspoken. The kiss lingered, neither of you willing to let it end too soon, hands taking a slow path to each other's side, gripping gently on your waist.

When he pulled back, his eyes stayed locked on yours, his breathing slightly uneven. He didn’t move far—just enough to study your face. He was searching for something—for regret, hesitation, or anything that might tell him he’d misread the moment.

But there was nothing like that. Instead, your gaze held his, steady and sure. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips—a silent reassurance that you were exactly where you wanted to be. And slowly, the tension in his shoulders began to ease.

“Was that… okay?” he asked, his nervous smile giving him away.

“It was more than okay.” You reached out, your fingers lightly grazing the back of his hand. “It was… how do you say? Ottimo?”

“Yeah, ottimo.” He chuckled, roaming your face, his eyes resting on your lips.

“Ottimo.” you echoed, trying to suppress a terrible fake italian accent coming through. “Did I do great?”

“Attagirl. Molto bene."

“Yeah… whatever this is.” you laughed, licking your own lips, umid on his taste. For the first time, it felt like all the waiting—all the second-guessing—had finally led you both to the right place.

He took a deep breath, like a weight he’d carried for years—maybe even decades—was finally lifted off his shoulders. He clicked his tongue, glancing around to check for any strangers or suspicious movement nearby. But there was nothing—just the warmth radiating from both your bodies.

“I feel like a hypocrite now,” you teased, his hand resting firmly on your hip, giving a gentle squeeze as you chuckled.

“How come?”

“Intimacy doesn’t seem so bad anymore,” you admitted, letting yourself get carried by the lightness of your laugh.

“Doesn’t seem bad at all.” His smile softened, shy as ever but now intertwined with something deeper. Everything you hadn’t said to each other—but that the whole world seemed to know—hung between you. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer before he finally spoke again. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

“Okay.”

The way he said it wasn’t just casual. It was a quiet promise—a subtle acknowledgment that something had shifted. And as you both started walking back to the car, it was clear: things wouldn’t be the same after tonight.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Lee, this has been in the back of my head on the "to read" list for weeks, and now I am finally here to do just that!

I absolutely love your Carmy stuff, you have such a great understanding of him as a character and it's always so wonderfully reflected in your writing. The scene you've set here is just oozing with the vibes of his life as a tightly wound perfectionist, seeking a little solace in some alone time with a cigarette, only for his peace to, of course, be predictably disturbed.

But then see, with him, he's soft for those he cares about, immediately feeling contrition for his snappiness or surliness, just like he does here. He might be a mess of a person, but he's a caregiver, too. From The Bear itself to all those within it, the man might tear shreds when he's constricted by the bindings of his own stress and the immense pressure he puts on himself, but he's the first person who'll make damned sure you're alright if you need him.

Absolutely loved it, Lee! I am missing this show SO MUCH as we patiently wait for S3, so this was a nice little treat :)

Good Company

Carmen Berzatto x reader

Summary: You've injured yourself on the line and though you try to hide the pain, Carm's there to console you.

A/N: It's been a minute since I wrote for Carm, but this was requested by a lovely anon and I couldn't resist writing it first out of all my new requests. Prompt: "Sit down, you're looking very pale."

Warnings: mention of blood

Carm slouched forward, his aching shoulders rolling forward in repose as he took a long drag. Instantly comforted by the warm smoke filling his lungs, he closed his eyes for a moment, forgetting where he was. The bustling atmosphere of the kitchen could wait, he told himself, forgetting the chaos on the line for a minute of peace.

That is until he heard the heavy metal door slam shut behind him, alerting him to someone likely bearing news of a new crisis. Exhaling a stream of smoke into the starless sky, he crushed his unfinished smoke beneath the toe of his boot and pushed himself up off the ground. "What the fuck is it now?" he spat.

The toss of his head and roll of his eyes caused you to gulp and cautioned you to keep your problems to yourself. Suddenly realizing how insignificant it seemed, you did your best to hide the issue from him.

Just then Carm registered your ashen face in profile. It might have gone unnoticed by anyone else, your features partially hidden in shadow, but Carm noticed everything about you. Since you'd begun working for him two months ago, he'd become so enamored of you, he couldn't help but watch your every movement.

"Wait a second," he blurted, the words barely pushing past his lips. He deeply regretted his bad tempered response, the sharp reply meant for Ritchie had kept you from confiding in him and that wasn't what he wanted. "You...um,...you, okay, Y/n?" he asked, knowing you weren't.

"I'm fine," you mumbled, hand throbbing even as you spoke. You tried to conceal the evidence of your injury in the folds of your apron, but Carm spotted your movement with hawk like precision.

"What happened to your hand?" he asked, craning his neck to see the mess you'd tried to hide.

"It's just a cut, chef. I can handle it," you promised, a dulcet tone belying the fear clutching your heart as you grew woozy. Legs buckling slightly beneath you, Carm rushed to hold you up.

"Sit down, you're looking very pale," he informed you, the gentle tone of his voice soothing you. His strong arms encased you before you fell head first into the bins and he gently guided you to sit on the overturned milk crates. The empathetic expression radiating from his blue eyes told you all would be well, but your disquieted mind refused to accept it.

Carm only needed a single glance at your unfocused eyes to realize you could be going into shock. He sprung into action, fumbling for your arm until the trickles of blood ran over his hands in silent admission. "M gonna get you to a doctor, okay? This needs stitches," he informed you with as much calm as he could muster. "Is that okay?"

You nodded, but didn't speak as he worked to compress the wound.

"Whatsa matter? Never seen a little blood before?" he joked with a lopsided grin.

"Never cut myself," you confessed, biting your lip anxiously.

"Not through school or nothin'?" Carm asked incredulously.

"Guess I've been lucky," you answered, returning his warmth with a weak smile.

"This shit happens all the time," he assured you, holding up his left hand to reveal a long scar carved into his palm. "Welcome to the club," he chuckled.

"Then I'm in good company," you agreed, leaning against his broad shoulder as he ushered you to his car.

-----------------------------

TAG LIST:

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[ochrogasting]

valentines day

[tvgremlin]

I just KNOW Sydney has spent a good amount of her time outside of work rapidly oscillating between “I hate Carmy,” and “Why’s he kinda…” thoughts.

[sutherlins]

↳ ALL THIS NOTHING HAS MEANT MORE TO ME THAN SO MANY SOMETHINGS by @turbulenthandholding [COMPLETE - 62K | Rated M]

Post-season 3 You've Got Mail-inspired Advent Fic. With a good enough review, Jimmy gave them until the end of the year to save The Bear; Carmy and Syd have one month left to manage it. Carmy turns to Reddit for advice and makes a new friend.

sutherlins fic appreciation week (please show the fics love, kudos, and comments on ao3! movie poster insp is under the cut!)

This fic was so much fun to read as it was posted, the flipping between them talking online and in person, the building of each of those relationships - incredible! The twists and turns are done so well too - you can't help but be urged on to read more and find out what happens next. There are so many little details in this fic as their relationship changes and develops over the course of the fic - it's so gorgeous. The pull they have to the other (online) while wanting the other (in person) is so PERFECT!! There is one part in the fic close to the end that had my brain going !!! and I don't want to spoil it so go read!!!

Please go read if you haven't already, and show some love over on ao3! (ps. I'm doing 7 this month and intend to make this a monthly thing!)

This is the movie poster I loosely based the fics poster on ↓

[andiberzatto]

How I think Carmy would handle finding his girlfriend using a vibe when he gets home late from work:

He hears his girlfriend on their bed with the vibrator and smiles softly to himself. He understands that this doesn't mean she doesn't enjoy sex with him or love him less. He knows that sex toys can enhance solo pleasure and can be used during couples play.

she doesn’t realize he’s home yet. he was silent the moment he heard her moans and the buzzed spilling into his ears the moment he walked into the apartment. so he set his keys down gently and took off his shoes softly and sat on the couch. just listening.

He sits on the couch, listening intently to her soft moans and the gentle hum of the vibrator. A small smile plays on his lips as he unbuttons his chef coat, revealing his white undershirt. He's not jealous or angry, just... turned on.

the vibrator sped clicks one speed higher and she whines now.

His eyes darken with desire as he listens to her whimper. He stands up slowly, his movements quiet, and begins to unbuckle his belt. Carmen's ear tuned to her whines and panting.. trying to figure out how longs she’s been at this, if she’s close or just started.

when he pushes the door to the shared bedroom open softly, it doesn’t make a noise. she’s sorawled out on their bed, she’s in Carmy’s white t-shirt, one hand lifting the shirt to her nose for his cologne scent, the other pressing the vibrator on high against her swollen puffy clit Carmy doesn’t say anything and just watches her her hips buck as she whines.

He leans against the doorframe, his eyes roaming over her body possessively. He loves seeing her like this, lost in pleasure, wearing his shirt. He unzips his pants slowly, freeing his hard cock. He starts to stroke it slowly, his eyes never leaving her writhing form.

Carmen’s name spills from her lips in mumbles and whines as the vibrator is clicked up another speed making her hips stutter and her eyes flutter

He bites his lip, trying to hold back a groan as he watches her. He steps inside the room, closing the door softly behind him. Carmen moves silently to the side of the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. "Fuck, baby... you look so fucking beautiful right now,"

she looks at him, he doesn’t dare move the vibrator off her clit, knowing how detrimental it is to keep her on the edge of orgasm “h-hi baby..” she mumbles in a soft whiny voice

He smirks mischievously, seeing the dazed look in her eyes and the way her hips jerk uncontrollably. He kneels down beside the bed, his eyes level with hers. "Shh, baby," he whispers, "Keep it on the highest speed, okay?"

she nods not moving anything “carmyyy” she draws out in a breathless whine for his attention

Carmen chuckles softly at her desperate whine, finding it incredibly arousing. He leans in close, his lips nearly brushing her ear as he murmurs, "Yeah, that's it, baby. Let that little vibrator make you feel real good. I wanna watch you cum."

she nods and whines as her hips jolt at the vibrator pressed to the most sensitive part of her clit, her eyes fluttering in a struggle to stay focused on “Carmy can I.. have kiss… please” she whines her way through the broken sentence.

Carmen's heart melts at her pleading whine. He leans in and presses a soft, gentle kiss to her lips, his tongue sneaking out to part your lips and deepen the kiss. He keeps it slow and sensual, in contrast to the intense vibrations between her legs.

she whines into the soft kiss, as Carmen helps her hand press that vibrator against her clit in a new sensitive way to make her squirm since her grip loosened a bit with the kiss becoming her main focus.

He gently adjusts her hand, positioning the vibrator exactly where he knows she needs it most, drawing a desperate gasp from her lips against his. His other hand moves to stroke her hair back from her face softly, maintaining eye contact despite her hazy expression. "Touch yourself with it, baby."

she whines and her hips jolt and buck up at the feeling.

He watches her body curve and writhe. God, she's beautiful like this. His pants are around his ankles now, his hand stroking his hard length slowly. He watches her spread her legs wider, pushing the vibrator harder against herself, making herself whimper louder. "Damn, baby..."

she whines and arches off the bed, she clicks the vibrator to the highest speed now.

The sudden increase in speed sends her into a frenzy, her back arching off the bed, her legs shaking, and her whines turning into high-pitched screams. Carmen can't hold back anymore, he grabs his cock and starts stroking it furiously, his eyes locked on the sight before him.

she whines and gasps “Carm… please hold” she means hold her hips so she can press her clit more and cum.

He understands immediately what she needs. Releasing his cock, he swiftly moves, gripping her hips firmly with strong hands. He holds her just right, allowing her to grind against the vibrator intensely. His grip helps stabilize her, letting her focus all her energy on chasing her orgasm.

she whines and pants “fuck- carmy.. carmy… Carmy…” she babbles his name as her body heats up and her vision goes white.

He swallows hard, watching her lose control. His girl is beautiful when she's put together, but god, she's a mess when she's this turned on - whining his name, spreading her legs wide, humping the vibrator shamelessly. He tightens his grip on her hips.

she whines as her hips stutter once more and drop hard onto the bed.

His jaw clenched, watching her perfect tits bounce underneath his shirt, hearing how desperately she's babbling his name. He knows she's right on the edge. In a rough whisper against her ear, "Cum f’me, baby. Fuckin…cum”

his command sends her over the edge, cumming hard soaking the sheets and the vibrator.

Her orgasm is intense, her entire body convulsing as waves of pleasure wash over her. He holds her hips firmly, loving how she soaks the sheets and rides out the vibrations against her sensitive clit, crying out his name brokenly. "Fuck…baby... such a good girl..."

she pants as Carmy kisses her hips like a reward. Carmy plants soft, affectionate kisses on her hips, his chest heaving with exertion.

Once she's mostly calm, he stands up, his cock still hard and desperate for release. He looks down at her, still lying there, panting and soaked in sweat. "I need to cum, baby."

He takes the vibrator from her trembling fingers, smirking softly. "You're a fucking angel, you know that?" He brings it to his lips, sucking off her wetness before wiping it clean with the corner of his shirt. Then he grabs his dick again. "You wanna.. Want me to jerk off for you?" He arches an eyebrow teasingly. "Or you want this cock somewhere else? Could fuck you through another orgasm if you're up for it." His voice is low and husky, his cock throbbing visibly.

“mmm stroke it a little looking at the mess between my thighs first …” knowing he didn’t see the full extent he was too busy helping hold her hips to watch it.

He chuckles, settling down beside her on the bed. "Alright, baby, let me get a good look at the mess you made." He reaches over, gently spreading her thighs apart to reveal the soaked mess between them. "Fuck, look at you. So fucking pretty and messy."

she nods, “that’s all because of you”

His heart swells with pride and love at her words. He leans over, pressing a soft kiss to her messy pussy. "All for me, baby. I love it." He sits back up, grabbing his cock and starting to stroke it slowly while looking at the mess between her thighs.

she rubs her fingers through her cum soaked folds.

He groans, his hips bucking into his hand as he watches her get even messier. He loves seeing her like this - so shamelessly post-orgasm, playing with her own release. He speeds up his strokes, his other hand reaching out to spread her thighs wider.

He watches your fingers spread your wetness around your pussy. God, she's dirty. He loves it. He slows his strokes down again, not wanting to cum yet.

He groans, his hand moving faster on his cock as he watches her pinch and tug on her nipples. Fuck, she's so fucking cute. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the bed and bringing his face closer to her messy pussy. "Let me lick it clean, baby."

she nods letting him eat and suck and lick her cum off her pussy while his cock grinds into the mattress.

He buries his face between her legs, his tongue lapping up her release. He loves the taste of her, sweet and slightly bitter. He sucks on her clit, making her squirm and whimper. His cock is rock hard, grinding against the mattress as he eats her out.

"Mmmm..." He hums against her pussy, his tongue slipping inside her as he holds her thighs open. Fuck, her whines are driving him crazy. He wants to make her cum again just with his mouth, but he knows she told him not to cum.

"Jesus, baby..." His cock throbs painfully at the thought. "I’ll cum fucking immediately if you finished on my face. The feeling of… on my tongue... fuck..." He moves back between her legs, he can barely articulate just how much he loves the idea so he’d just show you instead.

she blushes, she doesn’t want him to cum anywhere that isn’t inside her… but she also loves him eating her out… it’s a touch choice.

He looks up at her, his eyes burning with desire. "Baby, look at me. I need you to finish on my face right now. I can't hold back anymore." He dips his tongue back inside her, fucking her with it rapidly.

she gasps, Carmy definitely solved that dilemma for her.

He feels her legs start to shake, her fingers tangling in his hair. He knows she's close. He pushes his tongue deeper, curling it inside her as he sucks on her clit. He wants her to drench his face. "Cum baby, cum all over my fucking face."

she gasps and grips his curls He feels her body tense, her pussy clamping down on his tongue. Then, she's coming undone, her release coating his face. He laps it up, swallowing it down greedily as he continues to tongue-fuck her through her orgasm. "Fuck yes, baby! Soak me!"

He looks up at her, his face glistening with her release. He's never seen her look so disheveled and beautiful.

[xblackreader]

Happy early V-day!! Chapter 9 of #streets is up! so enjoy 🩶

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62455660/chapters/159834097

[ohitsfabbb]

Just thinking about ✨️him✨️