#new Carmy just dropped!!

[queer-whatchamacallit]

“Is there a name for that thing where you’re afraid of something good happening cause you think something bad’s gonna happen?”

[zorrasucia]

this mess was yours (now your mess is mine) - Part 2

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Explicit (4.8k)

Tags: Smut, Set two(ish) years before the present aka the New York years, Porn with a little plot, Fluff, Friends with Benefits, Virgin!Carmy (my beloved), P in V Sex, Rough Sex (at Reader's request), Oral Sex (M receiving), Fingering, Period Sex, Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink

Summary:

It had become a habit for both of you, being able to come home to someone who asked about your day and then fucked you senseless. It was unpredictable and messy but that was part of the appeal. You didn't see yourself quitting any time soon.

"Hey," Carmy greeted you. 

You had knocked frantically on his door until he opened. Maybe it was unhinged behavior on your part, considering it was almost midnight but you were too riled up to care.

"Hey," you replied, walking inside and closing the door behind you. You pushed him against the wall with one hand, the other holding a couple of books. You kissed him hard, shoving your tongue inside his mouth, grinding your entire body against his.

"Fuck," Carmy brought you closer by the waist.

"Brought you some books," you waved them in front of his face and threw them on the couch carelessly, using both hands now to pin Carmy's wrists above his head.

"You don't need to keep giving me books, you know? I feel like you're paying me," Carmy joked breathily, following your lead, pliant under your touch. Perhaps you had taken him by surprise or he actually liked you taking charge, either way you were having fun.

"Oh, but it's okay when you bring me black truffle gnocchi?" you retorted. 

He was keeping you well fed and well fucked.

"Those are leftovers. It's different," he argued.

"Well, I get a discount. Don't be difficult, Carm, just take them," you buried your face in the crook of his neck, kissing the moles and freckles he had on his skin. You exhaled and he shivered. "We're friends, right?"

"Sure," he panted.

"Friends can give each other presents," you rationalized. One of your hands let go of his wrist to tug at his hair. He moaned low.

"I just-" Carmy turned to look at you, suddenly very serious. "I can't do more than this, whatever this is. I don't want to fuck you over."

You hadn't put a name on it - friends with benefits was the closest thing you could come up with. It had become a habit for both of you, being able to come home to someone who asked about your day and then fucked you senseless. It was unpredictable and messy but that was part of the appeal. You didn't see yourself quitting any time soon.

"I can't do more than this, either," you replied honestly. You soothed his sides under his t-shirt. "It's all good, Carmy."

"I just-" his brows furrowed in worry.

"Hey. We're friends, it's just sex, nothing more," you cupped his face, caressing his jaw. "Are we good?"

He exhaled and nodded, his curls tickling your forehead.

"We're good," he smiled and kissed you, mouth open, cock half hard inside his trousers.

"Now can you please fuck me against the wall?" you asked.

Carmy gave you a wicked smile. "Yes, ma'am."

He grabbed your waist and manhandled you, your back to the wall. He kissed your neck and tugged your jeans down in swift succession. You kicked off your underwear and pulled down his trousers, just enough to free his cock.

"No foreplay," you said, caressing the head of his cock. "I want it to hurt a little."

"I got you," he panted, taking out a condom from his back pocket and quickly opening it with his teeth. Your visits were so frequent that he could open the wrapper with one hand and hold your throat with the other with ease now.

"You want it to hurt a little?" he repeated back at you, eyes dark.

"I need to get out of my head," you didn't want to explain, didn't want to talk about it at all. You wanted this man to fuck your brains out so that it was quiet inside your head and you could have a dreamless sleep. "Go as hard as you want. I'll tell you if it's too much."

"I-" Carmy hesitated.

"I've heard you screaming at God knows who on the phone, Carm. Don't act like you're some kind of saint and you don't have a shit ton of pent up anger in there," maybe it was a low blow but it got you what you wanted.

Carmy lifted you roughly, hands under your thighs, holding you tight enough to bruise.

"Never said I was a saint," he rasped, his cock poking at your entrance. "Never said I wasn't angry."

"Then show me," you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Fine."

He entered you in one blunt thrust, your head bumping against the wall, your pussy throbbing and burning against his invasion.

"Fuck," you cried out. It was half a whine, half a sob, from deep in your belly. You braced yourself, holding his muscular shoulders tighter.

He drew back, almost all the way out of your pussy, then back inside with force, leaving you breathless. His hips snapped against yours over and over; his empty apartment echoed the rhythmic clapping of your skin. Carmy was ruthless, giving you what you had asked for and more.

Your heart was racing inside your chest, trying to keep up with all that was happening - the ache inside you that was quickly turning into pleasure. Your mouth hung open, wanton whines leaving your lips.

"Happy?" he challenged you, maybe thinking you would ask him to stop or reject him in some way. You didn't.

"Yes," you managed to say, dragging out the 's', and crossing your ankles behind him, bringing him even closer.

All you could think of was Carmy and how good he was making you feel, how his hands would leave imprints on your hips, and how you were probably the only person that had allowed him to lose control like this.

"Give it to me," you insisted.

"You're so fucked up," he said. It wasn't a jab, if anything there was admiration in the way that he said it, that you could take it so well.

His movements got quicker and messier. He hid his face in your neck, drowning ragged growls into your skin. You could feel him hit the depths of you. His thrusts angled upwards as he got closer to his release, hitting your G spot over and over.

"Fucking-" was all you got to say before you became a moaning mess, Carmy holding on just enough that you could ride your orgasm in his last desperate thrusts.

"Shit. Shit. Oh, my God," he groaned hard.

You could hear him far away, your body felt limp and heavy as he carried you to his bed; your skin felt tingly and hot.

"Hey, talk to me," Carmy demanded, some left over gruffness coloring his tone.

"'m fine," you mumbled, "just fucked stupid."

"Good. Okay, that's good," he said, letting out a relieved sigh, smiling.

"Can I sleep over?" you asked, eyelids heavy. His bed was comfortable and the bedsheets smelled like him.

"Like I would let you go anywhere like this," he rolled his eyes and manhandled you to lie under the blankets.

"So bossy," you said appreciatively, half asleep. "Like it. I like that you're a little fucked up."

"Yeah?" Carmy seemed taken aback by it, grinning incredulously.

"Mhmm," you wrapped an arm around his waist, nuzzling his neck.

You knew what it was like to pretend all day, to be a watered down version of yourself. It was exhausting. 

You closed your eyes as Carmy kissed the top of your head.

~

Carmy surprised you as you were opening your door in the middle of the afternoon, your keys still dangling between your fingers. It was his free day, you remembered.

"Hey, you busy? I need a little help with something," he asked, peeking out his door, a nervous energy about him.

"I'm not busy," you replied flirtatiously.

"Oh! Uh, it's not a sex thing," he looked a little guilty now.

"Oh, okay. Sure, I'll help, I'm a good neighbor," you smiled brightly, hiding your disappointment that this wasn't a "help me, my boner won't go away" situation but more of a "help me, I need someone to hold a ladder while I change the lightbulb" situation.

You followed him inside his apartment and into the bathroom. He stood in front of you and removed his shirt.

"Carm, I'm getting mixed signals here," you said, your eyes lingering on the trail of hair on his lower stomach.

He chuckled. "It isn't a sex thing. I promise."

"I wouldn't mind," you said coyly.

He laughed openly now and turned around.

Right on his shoulder blade, there was a freshly done tattoo, the skin around it an angry shade of red, the ink crisp and dark, all covered in plastic and tape. It was a bird - a sparrow, falling mid-flight, an arrow through its chest.

"I didn't think it through," Carmy said. You could see the blush on his skin in his reflection on the mirror.

"You shouldn't regret it. It's beautiful," you said, your fingers hovering over it. "Just a little sad."

"I meant the placement," he explained. "Can't reach it by myself."

"Oh... You need help cleaning it," you realized.

"And putting lotion on it. It will get flaky and fucking gross in the following days so it's fine if you don't want to help me then," he was giving you an out.

It looked like it pained Carmy to ask, and it suddenly made sense why all his tattoos were within arm's reach.

"It's okay," you said simply, leaning over the sink to wash your hands, then turning to look at him. "Tell me what to do."

He exhaled with relief and walked you through it - removing the tape and the plastic, washing the skin gently, letting it dry, applying lotion...

There was something weirdly intimate about the whole process. Your hands were on Carmy, careful, admiring the artwork and the muscles underneath, checking in the mirror to confirm you weren't hurting him.

"All good?" you asked softly.

"Yeah. Thank you," he turned to kiss you, a quick peck on the lips.

You watched him put his shirt back on, a small wince as he arranged the fabric.

You caressed his cheek. "Is it bad? The pain."

He shrugged. "I kind of dig it."

You shook your head fondly. 

"How often do you need to do this?" you asked, walking towards the door.

"Ideally? Three times a day," he said. "Realistically? When I'm home from work and before I leave."

Carmy walked you to your apartment - it was only a few feet but it felt a little corny still, like a twelve minute long, weird ass date. You smiled.

"Let me know, okay?" you said in a jokingly stern tone. "I don't want your tattoo to get fucked up because you're too stubborn to ask for help."

He looked down and you knew you had hit a nerve.

"Promise."

It was nice, having a routine with Carmy, knowing that you would see him everyday, that he would knock on your door looking sheepish and that you would take care of him a little. Sometimes you rubbed the leftover lotion over his shoulders and the rest of his back, almost always you made out while you waited for his skin to dry, your hands and eyes feasting on his naked torso. Maybe it wasn't sex but it was the next best thing. It was sensual, soft, delicious.

"There," you said softly, running your fingers over the soft skin. It had peeled and looked awful for a few days but now it was pale and smooth once more.

Carmy turned and grabbed you by the waist.

"Thank you," he drawled.

"You're welcome," you said, swaying in his embrace.

Your hands traced the lines of muscle along his bare waist while you kissed his neck and shoulders.

"Fuck," Carmy exhaled into your hair.

"Can I suck your cock, Carmy?" you mumbled.

"Shit. You can do anything you want to me," he replied needily, his eyes going wide as you lowered to your knees in front of him. "Fuck. You're actually doing it."

You palmed him over his jeans. "I've been thinking about it for days."

"You have?"

"Wanting to be the first one to make you feel this good... Wondering how these," you caressed the muscles on his stomach, lingering on the V you liked so much, "would move if I sucked you off like you deserve."

"Holy shit," he was breathing heavily, getting turned on from your lazy touch and dirty talk.

You unbuttoned his jeans, dragging them and his underwear down his thighs. His cock was already half hard, and you caressed the length of it.

"Fuck," Carmy leaned against the sink, bracing himself, gasping for air.

"Tell me when it's good?" you echoed his words back at him, looking up.

He nodded. You took him in your mouth.

The noise that followed was something between a moan and a whine, deep from Carmy's chest, vibrating all the way down to his cock. This was going to be fun.

You grabbed on to his ass, taking him as deep as you could, watching him close his eyes and arch his neck. Your tongue caressed the underside of him, tasting salt, while you bobbed your head back and forth, forcing his moans to go quicker and longer.

"Oh, fuck. I've never- Jesus Christ!" he was a mess, mumbling nonsense, white-knuckling the edge of the sink. "Never felt so good. Fuck!"

Just as you felt his muscles begin to tense, you let him go with a pop. He whined in desperation.

You gave him a mischievous smile. "Can you help me with something?"

"Anything. Anything."

You gathered your hair on one side. "Can you hold this for me? It keeps getting in my face," you asked innocently, looking at him through your eyelashes.

"You're going to fucking kill me," he managed, one of his hands closing around your hair, resting on the nape of your neck.

"Thanks," you said.

You kissed the trail of hair on his stomach, licked the veins and freckles by his hip, and then mouthed up his length until you could lick his tip and take him again inside your mouth. He shook with pleasure and his cock poked the back of your throat. You choked, a string of saliva falling from the corner of your mouth.

"Shit, fuck, I'm sorry," he panted. "It just feels so good..."

You soothed the back of his legs. 'It's fine, it's fine.' His eagerness was making you wet - the needy sounds he was letting out. His grip on your hair tightened and you hollowed your cheeks around his cock, bobbing your head, keeping a steady rhythm.

"Close, 'm close," he managed, the veins of his neck pulsing and his face sweaty.

"Mhmm," you hummed against his cock.

One of your hands caressed the muscles of his stomach, so tense that they seemed to be vibrating, while the other moved to fondle his balls gently.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck," he blurted out while tugging at your hair, letting out a long exhale, cumming inside your mouth.

"Mhmm, mhmm," you encouraged him, your mouth still on him, eyes up to see him completely undone. He looked beautiful.

You swallowed and swallowed, salt covering your tongue and dripping down the corner of your mouth, tears messing up your mascara.

Carmy used the hold he had on your hair to pull you away from his cock. He was panting and speechless - something proud purred inside your chest.

Carmy dropped to his knees and cupped your face. He kissed you, sloppy, lust-drunk, soothing your mouth with his tongue, licking the edge of your lips. You realized he was cleaning his mess - you moaned into his mouth.

"Carm," you carded your fingers through his sweaty curls. You realized there were tears in the corners of his eyes too.

"Fuck. That was everything," he mumbled against your skin. "Thank you."

"Anytime," you meant it - it made you happy to see how blissed out and relaxed he looked.

"Y'don't need to swallow next time though," he rubbed his finger on your chin, still sticky from his cum.

"What if I want to?"

He shivered.

"Jesus..." he shook his head, smirking. If you had known he liked dirty talk so much you would have started way earlier. "The fucking mouth on you..."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it just now," you said, mischievous.

He shut you up with a hungry kiss.

~

You wrapped yourself tighter in your comforter, balling up into a cocoon on the couch. Your favorite movie was on, lulling you to sleep...

Someone knocked on your door.

"Fuck off!" you bellowed.

"It's Carmy," he replied softly.

Gathering what little strength you had, you walked to the door and opened it.

"Hi, Carm," he looked frazzled but still gorgeous. "Uh, nothing's happening today. I feel like absolute shit, didn't even go to work."

You said everything quickly, trying to get it over and done with as soon as possible, not in the mood for a conversation.

"What happened?" his eyes were full of worry.

"I'm on my period. I'll be fine, don't worry about it," you dismissed it easily. "Point is, sex is off the table, so I'll see you when I see you."

"Okay," he nodded and walked quickly to his apartment, not even saying goodbye. You knew this was the agreement - sex and nothing more - but it still stung more than you would have expected that he actually didn't give a shit.

You shut the door, ready to go back to your cocoon when he knocked again.

"What?" you said dryly.

"I left for only two minutes, what the fuck?" he complained.

You opened the door, not managing to contain a groan of exasperation.

"Carmy, I swear to God..."

He was standing on your doorstep with a gallon of milk and a handful of groceries.

"I'll shut the fuck up but will please you let me inside your kitchen?" Carmy insisted.

You moved to the side and watched him make a beeline to the stove, which left you confused as fuck. When you realized that he was actually not going to speak to you, you settled back on the couch. Maybe his stove wasn't working and he needed to cook something? You didn't really mind as long as he left you in peace.

The bang of pots and pans was kept to a minimum, so much so that you started getting sleepy once again. You had almost forgotten about Carmy altogether when he sat on the cushion by your head, caressing your hair and your arm gently.

"Did you take something for the pain?" he asked.

"A metric shit ton of ibuprofen," you sighed. "It fixed my back thing before the cramps."

He chuckled softly.

Your back thing was a weird muscular pain that you could actually trace to one particularly vigorous handjob you had given Carmy a week ago. He had kissed it better while he fucked you from behind a day later - not that it had done much for your pain but it had made you come hard, so you had no complaints.

"You really don't need to be here, Carm," you mumbled, even though his gentle touch felt so nice and comforting. "I'll be fine. The first day is especially hellish is all."

He sighed and got up. "I'll pour you some hot chocolate and I'll leave you alone."

You perked up. "What?"

He handed you a mug - it was thick, French style, hot chocolate.

"Carmy, what-?"

He arched an eyebrow. "What did you think I was doing in the kitchen?"

"I don't know, your dinner?"

"Give me some fucking credit," he said without bite.

You took a sip from the chocolate, it was a little too hot and it warmed you up from the inside. You hummed softly.

"Sugar loved this when she had cramps," he said absently, drinking from his own mug.

"Sugar?" you asked, a green thing of jealousy snarling inside your chest, unchecked and unwarranted.

"My sister."

"You have a sister?" you straightened up in your seat to look at him properly.

He nodded, not really giving room for more questions.

He placed his hand on your knee, caressing lightly. You leaned into his side and exhaled.

"Sorry for being mean earlier," you said and he shook his head gently. "And thank you. You didn't need to do any of this."

"I wanted to," he replied.

You turned and kissed him, soft and lazy, not trying to go anywhere, just thanking him.

"How was your day?" you asked softly, fixing his messy hair a little.

"One of the new chefs got fired after two hours, which is some kind of record," he said pensively.

If you ever saw his boss out on the street, you were kicking him in the balls.

"He can't keep doing that shit, can he?"

"It's his place. He can do whatever the fuck he wants, as long as the food is excellent. And it is," Carmy said somewhat sadly. "Did you do anything interesting today?"

"Other than just lying here all day feeling like a raccoon was clawing at my insides and thighs?" you said playfully.

"Your thighs?" he arched his eyebrows.

You shrugged. "It happens when it's really bad."

"Can I-?" he motioned to shift you on the couch, you nodded, and he placed your legs over his lap.

He started kneading on the flesh of your legs over your sweatpants, massaging gently. You hummed contentedly.

All of a sudden, you remembered a number of moments during sex when he seemed to favor your thighs, kissing them, biting them, holding them tight. He'd never said anything really but he liked them, it was obvious - especially now, his thumbs pressing on the insides, the fatty and stretch-lined part of them, with devotion.

Without realizing, you had started getting aroused, heart racing and your thoughts wandering free - thoughts of him nestled between your thighs, thoughts of them aching for entirely different reasons.

"Carm?"

"Hmm?"

You could feel your cheeks burning from the question you hadn't worded yet.

"Would it be super messed up if I asked you to fuck me?" you stumbled with your words.

"Now?" Carmy turned to see you, not stopping his attentions.

"If you want. It's just that- This feels nice and- I don't know. Orgasms are supposed to help with cramps," you added, feeling a little lame.

He smiled. "You really don't need to convince me to fuck you," his hands started pressing into your upper thighs.

"I'll  understand if you don't want to," you put your hands over his, caressing lightly.

He didn't reply, instead he leaned to kiss you again, slow and tender. You smiled into the kiss.

"It's going to be messy," you warned him.

"Sex is messy," he echoed your words back to you.

"Okay, give me a few minutes, yeah?" you said, going in the bathroom, tidying up a little, and changing your underwear. You emerged with a towel in your hands to find Carmy sitting on your bed, wearing only his boxer briefs. "You're dangerous."

He huffed, bringing you to stand between his legs.

"You’re dangerous," he emphasized, ogling you now that you were wearing only your underwear and a sweatshirt. He held you close, breathing you in as he peeled off your sweatshirt, burying his face between your breasts.

"So warm, so soft," he mumbled against your skin, giving you goosebumps.

"Carmy," you hummed and leaned into his touch, caressing his curls.

You felt lightheaded and dizzy as you settled on the bed, your head on the pillow, the soft towel underneath you, and Carmy hovering above you - kissing your body.

"Slow?" he asked, tracing a line from your bellybutton to your collarbone with his nose.

"Mhmm," you agreed, overwhelmed with how gentle and thoughtful he was being.

He took off your underwear and nudged your legs open. You were feeling a little self conscious.

He placed his hand over your mound.

"You've done this before?" he asked.

Sometimes, he could read you so well.

"Never on my period, no," you admitted. "Boyfriends didn't like the idea."

"I'm gonna take care of you," he drawled, kissing the side of your face and sliding one finger between your folds.

You hummed, caressing his arms and shoulders, marveling at how strong they looked in the lowlight of your room.

His fingers moved slowly, wandering around, caressing, pressing just enough on your clit to get you warm and ready.

"Please," you whined.

"Shhhh," he soothed, inserting one finger.

"Shit!" You arched into his touch, every nerve ending awake.

"You okay?" he checked in.

"I think I'm a little sensitive," you managed. When you saw Carmy's concerned face you added: "It's good. I can feel you, every little thing you do to me."

He curled his finger a bit, his gaze fixed on you to watch you roll your eyes with pleasure.

"Fuck," he swallowed.

"Yeah," you giggled. "I think I want more."

He pushed a second finger inside you, caressing your walls, watching you become a mess underneath him. He had you writhing and moaning with just his fingers, dangling near the edge of your release in just a few minutes.

"So close, I'm so close," you moaned.

He didn't make you beg for it. He seemed entranced - his fingers moving steadily, just staring as you lost control.

"Insane," Carmy mumbled as he kissed you.

"Mmm?" you questioned, barely out of your orgasm, only vaguely aware of him wiping his fingers on the towel and putting a condom on. Your hands reached out for his face.

"You're so responsive, it's insane," he rasped. "Can't wait to be inside you."

"I need it. I need your cock inside me," you whined and opened your legs wider.

He lowered to kiss you, hungry. Then he grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the sides of your head.

"Don't move a fucking finger," he whispered. "I'm going to take care of you, make you feel so fucking good."

You nodded eagerly.

Carmy entered you slowly, making sure you felt every inch of him as he stretched you out and filled you completely. You arched your body against his, urging him to get closer even as his cock went almost all the way out.

A lewd, wet sound filled the room as he thrust back inside you, then the slap of skin on skin, then two moans almost in unison. He kept that torturous rhythm steady, eyes fixed on you, his movements were slow and calculated - he was letting your lust simmer to a boil, driving you crazy. You couldn't speak, breathy moans the only sound you could utter - that and his name.

"Carmy..."

"Yes, I'm here," he reassured you, a bead of sweat falling from his face. "You're being such a good girl for me."

You whined at that, your pussy gripping hard around him. You glanced down, taking in the sight of his tight abdomen, his trail of hair, and his cock disappearing inside you.

"Oh, fuck," you managed. "Think I'm coming again."

"Yeah?"

You nodded eagerly, biting your lip to silence your cries of pleasure. He thumbed at the place where your bodies met, pressing your clit as he kept that steady pace. You saw white for a moment, fluttering against his cock, even more wetness gathering between your legs.

"Shit," you exhaled, every feeling of aftershock mixing with the pleasure of being deliciously fucked still. Carmy's face was contorted in complete concentration, eyebrows furrowed and breathing hard.

"Can you do one more?" he asked.

"Yes," you said eagerly. "Yes, please, come with me."

He growled.

His pace accelerated, his hips arched, the head of his cock hit your G spot.

"Holy fuck!" you cursed, grabbing at your pillowcase to stop from moving your hands. "Carmy."

"Right here," he reassured you still, face red. "Y're being such a good girl," he praised.

You beamed, arching your back, guiding him to fuck you deeper and harder, following his movements with wide eyes. He groaned, his cock slipping out of you by accident.

"Put it back in, put it back, please," you begged.

He rushed to recover, quickly going back to the same hungry movements.

"Your boyfriends are fucking idiots," he mumbled into your neck, feral and possessive. "Didn't get to have you like this."

You pussy squeezed around his cock as it twitched inside you. You were both so close. He panted into your mouth.

"Ready?"

"Yes, please, yes," you whined.

You came together, meeting each thrust with a tilt of your hips, your moans followed by grunts. He collapsed on top of you, heavy, sweaty and perfect. You licked a line of salt from the side of his neck.

"Was it true?" he said, his gravelly voice rumbling against your chest.

"What was?" your hands caressed his back and his ass, fingers tracing curved shapes.

"That orgasms fix cramps."

"Mhmm," you giggled. "Read it somewhere. And the pain's much better now actually. Thanks."

"Anytime," he replied, tired. "I'll get up in a second."

"No rush," you said, carding your hands through his curls. "Wanna shower together?" you offered.

"Definitely."

You sighed, completely satisfied.

Later, when your fingers were lathering shampoo on his scalp, then carefully covering every strand with the scent of your coconut conditioner, a thought would interrupt your bliss. Maybe this was too sweet and domestic for friends with benefits. Maybe they way he fucked you was a lot like making love. Maybe. But you were too tired and too happy to care.

~

[Part 3]

~

@vyctorya

[malevatouille]

ngl i think malevolent x ratatouille is just the bear

[fireflakesss]

does anyone wanna join the donna berzatto hate club

[laiiaaa]

Your writing is stunning! Can I request injured!reader and Carmy rushing to be by her side? god the idea of that man dropping everything to be with you....

this has been in my drafts for probably a year now. i forget why i was hesitant to post it. so here’s something for you all :)

“Hey, Cousin—”

“I’m in the middle ‘f something, not now, Richie—”

“Hey.” He raises his brows, gives that serious look that has Carmen’s head peeking over his shoulder because it’s so sharp he can feel it. “It’s your girl. You wanna take this.”

He gets nervous, then, heart beginning to race. Where’s his fuckin’ phone?

“Give it here,” he says, arm extended. Richie hands it over and slips out the door, shutting it to leave Carmen by himself in the office; it only makes hurt stomach lurch harder.

He lifts the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“. . . Carm?” Your voice is broken and wobbly, wrought with tears.

“Baby?” He doesn’t even think before he’s jumping out of his chair, tucking the phone between his jaw and shoulder while he scrambles to find his keys. “Baby, you there? Where are you?”

“I-I’m at the hospital, I tried calling you—”

“The hospital—?” His mind goes back to New York, back to that morning. “What—” He takes a deep breath. His jacket. Where the fuck is it? “Okay, you’re okay, I’m comin’ now, alright?” He storms out of the office toward the lockers, finds everything right where he put it, including his phone. Dead. Fuck. “I gotta hang up, okay? I’m sorry, I know, I can’t take the phone with me. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“O-Okay.” A shuddered breath rings through the line, and it kills him. “I’m okay, Carmy—”

“I know,” he says, shimmying into his jacket and feeling for his keys. “I know, baby, but I’m comin’ anyway, you hear me? Gonna be there in ten.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. I love you.”

He doesn’t put the phone back properly, just slides it across the counter and hopes it doesn’t break again, shouting out orders over his shoulder on his way out the door.

The ride there is the longest ten minutes of his life. He doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know anything at all, really. Are you hurt? How bad is it? What happened? Is it a burn, a broken bone, just a flu that got out of hand? Will you need surgery? Did you get in an accident? Did someone try to hurt you? He doesn’t want you to be alone right now. He needs to be there with you. You were fine this morning. You were fine this morning, all beautiful and groggy when he kissed you awake, still cozied up in bed when he left early as the sky turned blue after sunrise. You were fine. You were fine, and then he left, and suddenly you weren’t.

The fluorescent lights make him nauseous. They’re too bright, and a disgusting color, and too different from all the gentle lighting you insisted upon at home. Made the place homey, you said, and he agreed. The nurses at the station must think he’s out of his mind, all wide-eyed and asking for you.

“What’s your name?” the one asks him.

“Carmen, I’m her fiancé, I was—I was just on the phone with her—”

“Okay,” she nods, softening. “She’s doin’ alright now, she was askin’ for you, though. Still gotta get her wrapped up, but you’ll be outta here soon.”

He’s too busy wondering What the fuck does that mean? to properly answer.

When he’s finally brought to your room, his nerves subside—only a little. There’s no blood, no bland hospital gown to say you’re headed off to the operating room. Just a pillow over your tummy, with your arm—your swollen, bruised arm—resting on top of it.

“Hey, hon,” he says, coming to your bedside and smoothing a hand over your forehead to press his lips to your temple. “You alright? What happened?”

“They—” you sniffle when you look up at him, lip quivering— “They had to take my ring off, Carmy—” he nods along to your rambling with a concerned brow— “I-I told them not to, but they said my hand was too swollen—that-that it was gonna mess up my finger—. . .”

“What’s that, baby?” He smiles into your hair and exhales through his nose. So typical of you to get upset about something cute like that, he knows you’ll be okay. “Your arm’s all black ‘n blue, and you’re worried about your ring—?”

“But it’s special—”

“Shhhhh . . . I know, I know . . . ‘m just askin’ you to ease up.” Another kiss lands on your forehead before he asks, “Where’s it at, baby? I’ll fix it for you.”

You pout and look somewhere behind him. “On the table, but you’re not gonna be able to—”

“Just take a breath ‘n relax f’me, yeah? I got it.”

He stands upright again, turning to check that the ring is there—that beautiful, beautiful big diamond for his precious girl, before reaching toward the nape of his neck to unclasp his chain. Carefully, he threads it through the ring, silently urges you to sit up so he can hook it around your neck, icy-cool on your smooth skin, admiring the way it sparkles like your eyes.

You’re still pouting when he’s done, and he kisses your soft lips anyway while he wipes away stray tears. “Better?”

“. . . yeah,” you admit through a murmur.

“Good,” he huffs, pulling the visitor’s chair right next to your bed. With your good arm, you reach for him, just any part of him, and he holds your hand as he kisses your dry knuckles. “You gonna tell me what happened now? What’s got you all banged up?”

And you groan and roll your eyes, insisting that it’s too embarrassing to tell, and he lets you drag it out just because he thinks it’s cute when you’re stubborn. The doctor comes in with the x-rays to confirm that, yes, indeed, you’ve got yourself a broken arm, and after you’re splinted and discharged and given a sling and the next day’s protocol, Carmen holds your good hand on the way out the door.

“Oh,” you start, pausing before he opens the car door for you, “I forgot to tell you.”

“Hm?”

“I drove here.”

“You what?”

“I told you, I was embarrassed, Carm—”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” he grunts, laughing and shaking his head with fingers running through his hair as he helps you into the passenger’s seat. “You’re killin’ me today, y’know that?”

And it’s not the last time. When he unlocks the front door and sees the laundry spilled all the way down the stairs, with a basket flipped upside down at the bottom, he can put the pieces together. He kisses you softly, doesn’t say a word about it, takes you to the bedroom, and tucks you into bed to let you rest now that your adrenaline is wearing off and the pain meds are making you sleepy.

He fixes up the mess without a second thought, and once he’s done he slips right under the covers next to you, thanking whatever God there is that you’re okay, and that he’s got you back in his arms.

(And tomorrow, when he takes you into the doctor’s office for a proper cast, he has Natalie and Pete pick up your car. He still hounds on you about it weeks later, how you drove yourself to the hospital with a broken arm. You insist it makes for a good story, and to that he can’t deny.)

[wtfsteveharrington]

after midnight pt 2 | carmen berzatto x reader

summary: you leave a surprise for carmen at work that lets him know he's been caught watching your content & the aftermath that follows. she/her pronouns used!

contents: perv!carmy, mentions of anxiety, mentions of filming sex tapes, dirty talk, fingering, hand job, oral f receiving, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, doesn't pull out (sorry he's possessive idk what to say). he also has this lil god complex over your other subscribers

word count: 4,587k

author notes: i had to cut a lil out bc otherwise this was getting lllooonngg. thank you for all the love on part one & i hope you enjoy this one too!! <33

part one

Carmen wonders what you think of this mysterious new account that keeps donating to you. Sending you small gifts. It's nothing too large - He's not trying to put himself into debt by any means. But it is his way of cosmically balancing the scale of viewing your content without you knowing.

Sometimes he lets his mind wonder and entertains the idea of filming with you. Letting all these losers who sit alone at night watching you get a glimpse of how good he could treat you. Your knees over his shoulders as he folds you in half, harsh and rough strokes pounding in and out of you. Sometimes you get smart with him - It's the nature of the kitchen. He thinks about you in that position whenever you pop off with some snarky remark. Pinned under him, two fingers in your mouth. "Put that pretty mouth to use for me. There you go, Baby." His fingers sliding in further, causing you to gag around them but you reach up to hold his wrist in place to let you know you're good. 

He’d fuck you until you can’t think straight, a moaning mess against his fingers as you’re reduced to coming around his cock with no warning. Orgasm shaking through your body and Carmen would just keep fucking into your sensitive body until he can’t take it anymore.

This becomes his new morning routine. Waking up 20 minutes earlier than he really needs to because he just knows he’ll be hard from dreams of you. It’s a bit of an obsession at this point in all honesty but he can’t help himself. He pictures you laid out against his bed sheets, sleepy and grabbing at any inch of him that you can. You’d just be able to relax and get fucked well to start the morning, he’d do all the work for the two of you. 

Any mental space not occupied by the restaurant is fully dedicated to you. 

———★–————————–

Carmen’s barely awake when he walks into the restaurant. His eyes still feel so heavy and there's a level of exhaustion that he just can't seem to shake in his bones. He's grunting acknowledgment at the team, doing a double take as he catches you grinning wickedly at the board in front of you. There’s a familiar pang of jealousy - What’s got you so entertained this year? He scoffs at his imaginary man he’s made up that’s vying for your attention as he heads into the office to work on this week’s orders. 

Except he’s stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of lingerie he just sent you last week folded neatly in the center of the desk. His heart drops to the bottom pit of his stomach as he steps closer and sees a packing order next to the set - His name and address under the billing information circled in a bright neon pink Sharpie. Carmen knows for a fact that he double, triple checked that this was supposed to be a gift and for his information to be excluded so what the fuck happened? 

He’s throwing his jacket over the desk just in case someone walks in before he can take care of this situation but he’s got to get a handle on you first. He’s embarrassed at getting caught. Imagining you must think the worst of him. Trying to justify it by at least he was sending you stuff, right? Cotton boy shorts he thought you’d look so delicate in and lacy pieces of barely there bodysuits he wanted to rip apart and leave stained with his cum. 

He's storming over to you now, ignoring the way Richie called out his name to join him for a smoke break. You hear him mutter out a "Okay then, Cousin. I'll just go fuck myself." That Carmen doesn't even acknowledge. All his attention fully focused on you. His words are coming off harsh as his body tries to process all the different emotions coursing through his veins.

"We gotta fuckin' talk."

The words hang heavy in the air and you find yourself entertained with how assertive he’s being. 

“Why’s that?” You’re looking up at him doe-eyed and innocent. There’s anxiety practically rolling off of Carmy’s body and you’re gonna get to soothing him in a minute but you’re letting him sweat it out first. You didn’t mind that he saw your videos but you were a little pissed he didn’t bring it up. Half because you could have been putting him knowing to use, half because it did feel a little taboo for your boss to be trying to anonymously send you lingerie. 

“Nah, don’t play that shit right now. You know why.” His voice is harsh but you know he’s not angry with you. You can smell the combination of cigarettes and spearmint gum on his tongue with how close he is. His cologne comes into the mix and it’s heavenly in all honesty. He’s embarrassed for getting caught, worried he’s gonna lose one of his best chefs, and worried he’s upset you. Someone’s yelling that they need Carmen to sign for a delivery and your time with him is coming to an end for now. 

Normally your hand never dips below his shoulders or the top of his chest. Always friendly, light touches. This time your hand comes up to rest flat against his heart and you can feel it quickly beating. “Carmy - Breathe.” Your eyes don’t leave his as your hand slides down his chest, fingers trailing along the soft cotton of his shirt. Stopping only once you can feel the dip of his hip. “We’re okay. Go handle your restaurant, I’ll talk with you tonight.” 

You pat the back of your hand against his hip he’s being called for again, feeling a little dizzy under the intensity of his stare. He’s still nervous, knuckles turning white as he keeps a death grip on the line. “Carmen Berzatto, you’re fine. We’re fine. I promise you, okay?” Finally taking pity on him you give a warm smile, stepping back and breaking eye contact. “Go sign for the clams before we have to change tonight’s special and Sydney kills us.”

———————–★–———

Everyone’s long gone by this point of the night. Tina tried to convince Carmen to go home and get some sleep about twenty minutes ago but he made some excuse about wanting to reorganize the walk-in before tomorrow’s service. Really he’s just counting down the minutes until the two of you are alone. You haven’t been able to talk today - Too many listening ears around for Carmen’s comfort. In your defense, you just minded your business and kept on top of your station. 

But God he can’t stop admiring you from across the room. There’s less shame to it now that you know. Still anxiety, yes. But your comforting earlier has him… Hopeful? Hopeful for what he’s not sure. 

You catch him staring at one point during dinner service, risking a glance around the kitchen and throwing him a wink before turning back to work and deliberately giving him a small shake of your ass. To anyone else it would probably look like you were just swaying mindlessly. Not to Carmen though. You’re teasing him and it’s working.

Tina’s finally shouting out goodbyes and Carmen’s eyes are trained on watching as you walk towards the office. Any pretend task he was doing is quickly forgotten as he intently follows you. He’s played this situation over in his head a dozen times, even burned himself on the cigarette he forgot he was holding earlier.

He finds you standing by the desk, running your fingers along the edge of it and grinning. “What happened to my present, Carmen?” 

“Chucked it in my locker. Couldn’t risk someone findin’ them, you know?” It’s embarrassing enough having to answer to you, he couldn’t imagine trying to explain to the staff (or God forbid his sister) why there’s lingerie with his name on the desk. Carmen’s face is overheated and his heart is pounding. For all the hours he’s spent fantasizing about you, he’s never really considered this conversation until today. Typically he skips right towards fucking you however you’ll let him. But now he’s stuck face to face and trying to figure out how to acknowledge his actions. 

"You know I, uh -..." He's sputtering out, trying to figure out just how to defend himself, "You're very, very pretty if that means anything. Fuckin' gorgeous, honestly."

"Did you get off watching me?"

There's no going back now.

"Yeah, I did."

You're grinning at him now, stepping closer and Carmen swears the temperature in the room just went up by ten degrees. He's got his eyes trained on your face for the second time tonight. Hunting out exactly how you're feeling. What he doesn't expect is to feel a feather light touch along the waistband of his pants, nails scratching along his skin as you slide two fingers under the fabric. "Did you think about fucking me? Or did you think about me getting on my knees for you more?"

Carmy's starting to wonder if this is real. Maybe another daydream? For the time being he decides to stay with it though. Trying with all his might to sound as confident as he's mentally done so many times having this part of conversation with you in his head before. "Fucking you. Always thought how much better I'd feel for you than those little toys you use. Sometimes -" He takes a deep breath, straightening his shoulders and trying to build up the confidence to keep this going. He's still not convinced he isn't in some sort of trouble with you. "Sometimes I'd watch you play with your clit. Watch you whine and just knew how badly you needed me to be there."

Your hand slides lower now, fingers pushing through the patch of hair at the base of his cock. Carmen's breathing stops at the touch and you can feel him getting hard under your touch. "Really?" You hum, flattening your hand out and running it down his length. His hips twitch involuntarily as you cup your hand over him, middle finger dragging along his tip. "I've thought about you too, you know? Sometimes you get so fucking pissed off during a rush. I think to myself 'God, he needs to take that anger out' and wonder if fucking me out back would help calm you down. Letting you use me. Sometimes I think you'd walk away after you finish but I know you'd never leave me there all needy and not taken care of, right Carmy?"

He's shaking his head, his heart pounding and he's pretty sure he has never breathed his hard in his life. Labored and uneven while his cock keeps getting hard under your hand. He wants to kiss you, drop to his knees and lick you until you forgive him or decide to take pity and let him fuck you. But instead he settles for showing his need by rocking his hips up against your hand, letting out a broken little groan. "Never would just leave you back there. All I wanna do is - fuck - treat you right. Every night I think about how pretty you must sound begging for me."

You wrap your hand around the base of Carmen's cock, giving him a pleased grin when he fucks himself into your dry fist instantly.

"Do you think you deserve my pussy, Carmy?"

Another jolt of his hips. "No, no I fucking don't."

You lean in, just barely ghosting your lips against his. Carmen has given up all control and allows himself to be fully at your mercy. Your hand pulls back from his cock, sliding out of his pants and he's whining. Shamelessly whining. You're kissing the corner of his mouth, lips traveling down his jaw while you make quick work of unbuttoning your jeans. You grab ahold of his hand, sliding it down the front of your pants and into your underwear. Keeping his hand flat along yours, you use your fingers to navigate his. Rewarding him with a quiet moan right in his ear as the two of you press down against your clit. "I'm so wet for you, Carmy. Been thinking about what you must feel like ever since I caught you watching me." Your hips are rolling down against your hands as you come back up to face him again, bumping your noses together and rewarding him with another moan when Carmen's hand starts to move on its own. Two rough fingers sliding down from your clit to between your folds.

"C'mon, Chef. Want you to fuck me just like you've been dreaming about. Can you be a good boy and do that for me, hmm?"

Something deep in Camren finally snaps and he’s ready to fully earn your praise. One hand comes up to cup the back of your neck and pull you into a deep kiss while the other hand focuses on teasing your clit. His tongue is licking into your mouth at the same time one of his fingers begins to push into you and the combination of sensations is heavenly. You’re moaning into the kiss, both of your hands coming to wrap around his chest so you can begin pressing your fingers into the muscles of his toned back.

He doesn’t let up - Tongue sliding along yours and his fingers messaging the back of your neck while his other hand pulls out of you. You’re whining at the loss as Carmy pulls back, his fingers coming up to lips as he licks you off of them. “Been dreaming about what you taste like.” He looks sinful - Blue eyes staring into your soul as he follows his early fantasy and pops his fingers out of his mouth. Index finger tracing over your bottom lip until you take the hint and let your jaw fall open. Carmen’s fingers slipping in and weighing heavy against your tongue. “Dream about you begging me to come all over this pretty face.”

You start to rub your thighs together as the heat builds in your core, finding yourself getting more desperate as time goes on. Carmen drops to his knees, making quick work of pulling down your jeans and helping you step out of them. He’s making sure you're balanced once again before looking up to realize you’re wearing a pair of the underwear he sent you. Carmy smirks to himself, realizing he’s played right into your little game.

You want to make some cocky remark but suddenly his face is between your thighs and you lose all train of thought. His nose bumps along your covered clit before he licks a strip up the soaked fabric. “Can’t believe how fuckin’ wet you are.” Carmy reaches up to slide the panties down your thighs, taking his time and keeping his eyes looking up at you while he does. You watch as the pair is stuffed into his back pocket and he begins to place open mouth kisses along your inner thigh. Lips exploring closer and closer but always just far enough away from where you need him.

Your hand comes down to lace in his hair, the other one reaching over to try and steady your shaky legs by gripping onto the desk. “Carmy please.” You give his hair a little tug, unsure of his pain tolerance but you’re rewarded with a guttural groan coming from below you.

“Fuck - Pull my hair again.”

So you do, getting a better grip at the base and giving his hair a good pull. You direct his head closer to your center and Carmen lets you until he finds himself buried into your pussy. His tongue lapping over your folds and completing a circuit around your clit before going back down to the base of your hole. He’s moaning your name into you, his hands coming up to grab ahold of your ass. Helping you stay balanced while making sure you can’t get too far away from him.

He’s pretty sure if you say his name again he’s going to come in his pants so he’s putting in as much effort as he can to keep you distracted. Delivered a sharp smack to your ass at the same time he sucks onto your clit. He brings his other hand back between your thighs, tongue still working against your clit while he traces you with his bare fingers. 

There’s a finger being pushed into you and you tug on Carmen’s hair once again as he quickly pushes another in, dragging them both along your walls and all he can think is how good you’re going to feel wrapped around his cock. “S’good, Carmy. So fucking good. Jesus Christ.”

Your thighs are clamping around Carmy's head and both of your hands fly to grab a hold of his hair as you feel your orgasm start to build up in your stomach. “Shit! Carmen please!” He doesn’t let up, sucking at your clit while his fingers continue to curl inside of you. No one has been able to make you finish like this before and you’re a mess of gasps and moans and hips jerking involuntarily. 

It only takes another minute of him stretching you out and licking you up for your orgasm to hit. A mess of curses and cries falling from your lips as the sensation falls over you. Your legs instantly go weak and Carmen’s quick to grab a hold of your hips to keep you upright. 

He’s helping you hop onto the ledge of the desk with a reassuring little “Relax, I got you.” Your thighs are shaking, whole body vibrating and you’re keeping your thighs apart to avoid any pressure on your overstimulated clit. Carmen’s so proud of himself at the sight of you trying to recover. He’s between your knees, pressing down his work pants and his boxers before haphazardly kicking them across the floor. Your eyes drag along his chest, over his tattoos, along the length of him that’s thick and beautiful and ready to be buried inside of you. 

His hands find the bottom hem of your shirt, grabbing ahold and pulling it over your head. Your bra follows suit next. Both of your clothing is covering the floor of the office and you can't help but giggle at the mess made in Carmen's otherwise prestigious space. He's letting out a hum of appreciation at the sight of your breasts. Cupping one in each hand and letting his thumb drag across your nipples. "Fuckin' gorgeous. Been wanting to do this for so long."

There's a mouth wrapped around your nipple now, Carmen making quick work of sucking at it. Flicking his tongue across the hard nub. He pulls back, blowing a stream of cool air against your wet skin before switching to your other breast and repeating the process. You get to sit there and savor the feeling, playing with his hair while Carmen takes his time exploring your breasts. When he thinks you're just blissed out enough, he kisses a path up to leave a small hickey onto your soft skin.

You notice, of course you do.

But you don't complain.

Carmen wonders if you'll let him mark you up before you film anymore content. Wonders how many men will realize they don't stand a chance with you anymore and that you belong to him already.

There's another nip being delivered to the skin of your breasts before he comes back up to give you a warm smile.

Carmen’s leaning in to grab ahold of your jaw, kissing you gently while you reach out to grab ahold of him and get rewarded with a moan. Rubbing your thumb across his tip to collect a bit of moisture and lazily jerk him off.  He’d be fine with this and nothing else for the rest of the night. Getting you off and finishing wherever you ask him to but he knows that won’t be enough for you. For now he enjoys exploring your mouth. Getting to taste you and he wonders if you’re tasting yourself on his tongue. 

You scoot towards the edge of the desk and wrap your free arm around Carmen’s neck. You’re both so hot to the touch. Hearts beating fast, breathing uneven. Needy and unashamed how obsessed with the other you both are. His hands start rubbing up and down your thighs as he gives you a second to recover from your orgasm. He’s got you smiling against his lips as you kiss him, giving a playful nip to his bottom lip. You can’t decide if you want him to use you while you’re still riding the aftershocks or obsessed with how he’s letting you savor the moment. 

Once your thighs stop shaking you wrap them around Carmen’s waist, dragging his body closer to yours. He’s chuckling at you, firm hands sliding down to grab at your hips and your ass, whatever he can get a hold of first. “Wanna watch you put me in. You do so good at fucking yourself in your videos, Baby. Wanna see you tease yourself with me instead of those fucking toys.” 

You drag the tip of him through your folds, teasing the both of you. Carmy’s giving up every ounce of control in this moment, all given to you. “So big. You’re gonna make me feel so good, Chef.” There’s a sound coming from deep in his chest, “Use my name.” Oh. You nod the best you can while being so close to him, giving a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m so wet for you, Carmy.” 

You’re sliding the length of him between your folds again, tapping his head at your own clit before bringing him to settle right against your hole. Your hand comes around to press on his ass, directing him to push in. It’s hard to tell which sound is coming from who but soon the small office is filled with broken moans as he starts to stretch you out. 

His first stroke is slow, both of you adjusting to the sensation. He’s sinking in inch by inch, thinking of whatever bullshit nonsense he can to keep himself from instantly busting when he’s barely even inside of you. His brain is glitching, trying to hold onto this one time he walked in on Fak taking a bubble bath to keep his orgasm at bay but at the same time you’re moaning his name and playing with the hair on the nape of his neck and his balls feel so heavy and heavenly resting against you as he bottoms out and - 

“Carmen please, please.” Right, focus. 

He’s kissing you once again before rolling his hips. There’s his strong arms wrapping around your torso to keep you in place and you feel so warm and safe and full. You decide maybe Carmy deserves a little more shit soon for not burying himself inside of you the second he found your channel. “Gonna take care of you, Honey. Feel’s so good huh? Been dreaming of you wrapped around my cock and it’s so much better than I could have imagined.”

You nod and feel your body going limp, leaning your head down to rest your forehead on his shoulder while he starts to fuck into you. Each time you press a warm, open mouth kiss to his neck his speed picks up. The lewd slapping sound of his cock sliding into your wet pussy combined with his balls slapping against your ass filling the room. He’s bumping his shoulder up against your head, “Look at me? I wanna see your pretty face.” 

It takes all the strength left in your body to pick your head back up, “So much better than when I do it myself, Carm. Needed you so bad, so fucking bad.” He grunts, rewarding your praise with a sharp jerk of his hips as he brings his hand down to toy with your still sensitive clit. Your head falls back at the sensation so Carmen brings his free hand to grab your jaw, tilting your head back to look at him. “Eyes on me.” He wants to make some empty threat that he’ll stop fucking you if you look away again but he can’t even pretend to want to step away from this.

His thumb stays on your clit while we keeps fucking into you at a steady pace. His lips ghosting over yours as you both get closer to falling apart. “You can give me another, Baby. Wanna feel you come around me. You can do that for me, yeah? Wanna be good for me don’t you?” Your nails drag along his back and something about the hiss it draws from his lips and the way his pace sputters at the feeling. 

You’re a blubbering mess in all honesty. Any facade from your videos of being cool and collected is long gone as Carmen chases your orgasm. Just whimpering out his name and pleas to the best of your ability until there’s one fateful stroke combined with your clit being brushed against that has you coming undone. Nails dragging into his back and he keeps your head in place to watch as your orgasm plays over your features. 

Within seconds you feel him start to pull out of you, presumably for his own release. “Please, Carmy. Wanna feel you fill me up.” Remember how Carmen’s become more religious since he started falling for you? In this moment he truly thinks God made you special just for him. 

His lips are crashing into yours, sloppy kisses meant for nothing more than to convey need being shared until you feel his body go stiff. Hips jerking on instinct as he fills you deep with cum. One of the thrusts causes some of the liquid, a combination of the both of you, to push out around the base of his cock and he stores that feeling for later. “Fuck you feel so good like this.” 

Carmen’s sensitive and getting soft but he can’t help a few more thrusts into your sloppy pussy. Savoring the way he’s been able to claim you as his. There’s a stray thought that he really does want to film with you one night, keep the camera steady on your pretty body as he defiled it.

He stays buried in you, not quite ready to pull out. Carmen’s analyzing your features from this close - The curve of your nose, how well your lashes frame your eyes, the sleepy little content smile on your lips. He’s fascinated by you. The feeling is mutual as you trace over his tattoos, rolling your shoulders back to help relax your body. 

The two of you stay like that for a while, both just soaking the other in. You finally look up from his chest to give him a sheepish girl, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips. “So - Better than what you imagined?” 

Carmen’s laughing, the sound rumbling through his chest and warming up your heart. He looks lighter than he did when he confronted you this morning, a sparkle in his eye even. “Holy fuck, so much better.” You get another kiss from him after the admission, his hands coming down to grip at your ass. “Let's get you cleaned up and I’m bringing you back to my place for the night, yeah?” 

It’s your turn to grin, nodding enthusiastically and giving his bicep a squeeze. “Yes, Chef.”

[queers-gambit]

Silence

prompt: ( requested ) anxiety plays tricks on your mind, making you mistake your boyfriend's stress for anger - at you.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 2.5k+

note: it's short but to the point.

warnings: cursing, hurt and comfort, depiction of mental health: anxiety, slight self-destructive thoughts.

Silence could be a good thing.

Libraries were silent for ample focus. Theaters were silent during the showing. Sometimes, long drives were peacefully silent.

Silence could also be a bad thing.

Demanding an explanation and the silence stretches. The silence before a doctor delivers life-changing news. Asking someone if they're okay and they don't answer.

When your boyfriend, Carmy, had returned from work that evening, he slammed the front door, dropped his backpack, toed out of his shoes, and stormed around the apartment silently. He didn't greet you, didn't offer a kiss, nothing - just breezed past you as if a pile of dirty laundry he's ignored for the past two weeks. You watched him from the kitchen, sipping a glass of wine, worry sprouting in your gut and chest. It was obvious something was bothering him - but couldn't fathom what it was that made him ignore you; to make him not look at you one single time.

It was like you weren't even there with the way he projected his moodiness. Even on his worst days, he always always always greeted you with a kiss; but the lack of affection hallowed your chest into a pit, wondering what you had done to make him avoid you.

Suddenly, the silence was eerily deafening, coiling your stomach and pumping lead through your veins; no TV or radio switched on to fill the void and create passive, background audio. Carmy was obviously upset about something, but the fact that he didn't even look at you made you think he didn't want to talk. This worried you because before dating, you and Camry Berzatto were the best of friends; talking about literally any and everything you could think of. He came to you with every single grievance, every frustration, every slice of drama - so why wouldn't he now?

Unless... Unless you were the cause of his annoyance? The idea made the pit in your chest stretch to your gut - anxiety rapidly spreading, confusion warping rational thought into something darker and self deprecating. The idea of upsetting Carmy - or anyone, for that matter - was enough to bubble nausea and turn your skin clammy. Muscles tensed, eyes darted, and your mind was plagued with every single thing you had said or done in the past 16 hours.

However, your memory couldn't pinpoint any moment you could've upset him; things had been normal and easy-going lately, there being no clear indication you were the culprit of Carmy's anger. However, there didn't need to be anything clear because your mind was fully convinced you were the bad guy now.

After swallowing a gulp of wine, your eyes adverted to give him privacy and begin on dinner; being obvious that his phone was much more important than you right now. Unfortunately, when it came to picking which sauce to dress your meal with, you were forced to slowly enter the living room where your boyfriend had taken refuge.

"Hey, baby?"

"Hmm?"

You tried not to be offended by his lack of verbal acknowledgement, but your intestines flipped and grew heavy. "Uh, just wondering, you want the marinara or Alfredo tonight with the - "

"Doesn't matter, you choose."

"I mean, which would you prefer?"

"I just said it didn't matter," he repeated with a hardening tone, "it's not like it's a difficult decision to make."

You didn't want to make his attitude worse, so you backed off silently and returned to your task. Yes, yes, Carmy was the professional cook between you but that didn't mean he wanted to come home and continue the act. So, you learned a few new recipes to keep meals interesting - a feat your boyfriend didn't seem to appreciate or even recognize most days. Tonight especially.

Tension tangibly filled the apartment the longer the silence stretched. Your mind conjured a hundred questions at once, begging your mouth to run rapidly if it meant getting answers - yet your logic stuck the words in your throat, refusing to let them fly, and even shoving them deep down for your soul to hold.

You poured a second glass of wine, throat thickening with silent emotion. There was always the worry in the back of your mind that Carmy would one day realize you didn't fit into his life and would break up with you. Or that perhaps, his irritation tonight wasn't due to anything you did specifically, but instead, was attested to your normal behavior and quirks - like the want to talk throughout the day.

Blinking the moisture away, you remembered Carmy hadn't answered a single one of your texts the entire day - a normal act for you, but maybe one that now got on your boyfriend's nerves. You dished up dinner, standing in the open kitchen with two plates and feeling silly for the nerves prickling your skin. You barely noticed the slight tremor in your hands. "Dinner's ready, Carm," you alerted, leaving the plates on the kitchen island you normally ate at; distracted by the need to pour a glass of water.

When you turned, your heart stalled in your chest when you noticed his plate missing - locating him in the living room, again, and it being obvious he didn't intend to eat with you. Now you knew for sure, you had indeed done something. So, you gingerly took a seat and tried to take up as little space as possible; shying in on yourself, eating silently and quickly so you could do the dishes right after.

Sure, there was usually the rule that the cook didn't clean, but there was no way you were gonna ask Carmy to do the simple chore; afraid of pushing him over whatever edge he teetered at. After storing any leftovers, you started the dishwasher and retreated to your bedroom with another glass of wine and the intention to get a bath. You felt like a glaring inconvenience all of a sudden, regret inking your blood and reprimanding yourself for being so - so - so... Clingy?

Is that what it was? Did Carmy think you were clingy? Perhaps texting him throughout the day without him ever answering was the final straw of annoyance he felt toppled the haystack. You wanted to apologize and eliminate the tension, but couldn't necessarily understand what you were sorry for; thinking you were simply paying attention to him, being attentive and interested in his everyday life.

Maybe you needed to apologize for being suffocating? Was that it? Your love was suffocating him? Was he feeling pressured by you? Did he think you two too comfortable in this relationship? Was your wall of texts an indication you were more serious than he? Oh, God, was that it - did Carmy think you were getting too serious, too fast?

Granted it'd been a few years of dating, a lifetime of friendship before that - so how much more serious could you get? Why would your attempts of communication rub him the wrong way? How could the pair of you ever manage to fall off from the same page? Make him think you were pushing for something more? Didn't he know he was enough for you? Didn't he appreciate your presence? The want to be closer? Your desire to maintain the friendship your relationship was built off of? The appreciation you had for him? The support you wanted to offer?

You soaked in epsom salt for the better part of half an hour. Draining the tub, drying off, and changing into pajamas were done silently; feeling almost fearful to venture out of the bedroom to return your wine glass to the sink.

So you decided to just get in bed, figuring if Carmy was so angry at you that it resulted in him ignoring you, he wouldn't want to sleep beside you, either. With your thick framed glasses on, you nestled into bed with your newest novel, trying not to let your mind go into overdrive as your need to fix whatever was upsetting Carmy was overwhelming. Yet there was also the nagging idea that trying to fix whatever was 'broken' would've made things worse - again, resulting in you doing nothing and giving Carmy his space.

The silence haunted the apartment like a ghostly presence; leering over your heads, embracing you uncomfortably.

When the bedroom door opened, you masked your surprise and just read the same paragraph three times in a row - distracted by your boyfriend milling around, preparing for bed. Your eyes widened in shock when the bed dipped and shifted, jostling you as Carmy got into bed beside you, but you still didn't look up from your book.

"What're you reading, sweetheart?"

His mood swings often gave you whiplash. You glanced at Carmy, finger holding your place to let you fold the book over and present the title on the cover. You worried that anything you said and did could make this tension fester, so, you remained silent and went back to reading.

"Is it any good?" He pondered, watching your profile. You nodded mutely, lips slowly rolling between your teeth in a show of anxiety Carmy could now recognize. "Hey, hey, you all right, babe?" He asked softly, sounding mildly confused - perhaps even alarmed.

"Yeah, 'course," you mumbled.

"Well, how was work?"

"Fine."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

There was a brief pause, then Carmy gently pried, "C'mon, baby, what's wrong? Why're you so quiet?" He chuckled gently, "Usually so talkative in the evenings."

You offered him a bewildered look with slightly pinched brows, swallowing nervously and slowly shutting your book to trace the spine mindlessly in an effort to distract yourself. Typically when anxious, your hands needed stimulation, something tangible to do and feel when your mind numbed with nervousness.

With a great deal of bravery, more than you thought was necessary to muster when talking to the person you love, you asked softly, "Are you mad at me, Carm? I mean, did I do something? T-To upset you?"

"Wait, what?" He asked in confusion. "Nah, baby, you didn't do anything, why would you even ask?"

"'Cause you've been ignoring me...?"

He scoffed, "Ah, 'cause I didn't answer your texts?"

"That, and you've been ignoring me in favor of your phone since you got home. Slamming doors, brooding in the living room, didn't eat dinner with me - got a little snappy when I asked what sauce for dinner? Feels like I did something but I don't know what, so I don't know how to fix this."

Carmy sighed, leaning back to the mound of soft and fluffed pillows you had stacked on your shared bed. "Shit," he breathed, huffing a dramatic sigh, "didn't even realize I was doin' all that, baby."

"If you're mad, just tell me what I did - "

"No, no, hey, hey, hey, hey," he rushed, turning on his side to look at you, elbow supporting his weight; clocking the glassiness coating your eyes. "You didn't do anything, baby, I swear. There's nothing for you to fix 'cause you didn't do nothin'. I just - I've been havin' a shit day, didn't realize I was bein' mean to you let alone that you'd take it to heart."

"Kinda hard not to when I'm the only one here."

"No, right, I get that," he sighed. "I'm sorry, baby, I know you get anxious when I shut down like that, but I promise, I'm not mad at you."

"Well, who else would you be mad at? I thought you were annoyed 'cause I was texting you all day. Thought I was, I don't know, being clingy or something since you didn't answer me."

Carmen frowned, "Sweetheart, no, hang on, listen to me. You didn't do anything to upset me, okay? I didn't answer you 'cause I dropped my phone in the sink and it got all glitchy, I couldn't answer you. I tried to fix it when I got home, but I think I fried it - should just get a new one. It was just one of those days that everything went to shit, it all built up, got the better of me."

You nodded, still looking dejected and making a shot of guilt plunge his heart. "You usually talk to me when you're upset," you pointed out softly, "and when you didn't say anything, I thought I was the reason you were upset. Figured you wouldn't talk to me if I did something to cause your attitude."

"No, hey, I'm sorry, c'mere, baby," he opened his arms and curled them around you when you shuffled into his chest. "Shit, I'm really sorry, I didn't even realize what I was doing - but Goddamnit, that's no excuse, though. I don't mean t'take my shit out on you, you don't deserve that."

"I just got a little nervous, maybe let my anxiety get the better of me."

"That's okay," he promised, kissing your forehead, "I can understand why. I was a dickhead, being snappy and ignoring you when all you do is support and love me. I'm real sorry, sweetheart," he sighed against your skin, tightening his arms to keep you cocooned in his warmth. "You know, you can always talk to me - don't gotta shut yourself down and avoid me."

"Do you even hear yourself? Should take your own advice."

"Yeah, I should," he smirked. "Hey, promise I'll do better not to shut down like that."

You nodded in acceptance, wondering softly, "Do you wanna talk about it? Whatever happened today?"

"Uh, nah, you know what? Think I owe you some cuddles, maybe a dessert? You know, to make up for my bullshit attitude."

"You don't have to - "

"I got you all worked up, feels like the least I can do."

With a hum, you smirked, "I won't say no to a slice of cheesecake."

"What baby wants, she gets," he grinned, a hand caressing your cheek to direct your eyes up to his. His thumb swept back and forth under your eye, "Still sorry about today. I didn't mean to be such an oblivious dickhead, I swear."

You nodded, "I know, baby. Just don't shut me out next time. Had me worried when you didn't even kiss me when you got home."

"A heinous crime on my part," Carmy smirked. "Should I remedy that?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't."

He chuckled and pressed his lips to yours in a soothing kiss, hand sliding to the back of your neck. It was a slow and languid kiss, something he took his time in engaging; lips sticking together, moving in-sync, creating chains of saliva when he pushed his tongue against yours. "Yeah," he mumbled, "I'm the dumb fuck who had you thinkin' I didn't want this from you." He pressed another kiss to your waiting lips, "You're intoxicating, baby - always want your kisses. Yeah? Always. The day I don't, take me out back like Old Yeller."

You wanted to voice that he wanted your kisses now until one day, he simply wouldn't - but refrained from doing so because you knew it was just anxiety talking. So, instead, you chuckled at his comment and leaned in to initiate your own kiss.

requesting rules and masterlist

FX's The Bear masterlist

[wannabeschyulersister]

in a world of boys he’s a gentleman

Despite only dating for six months, it often felt like you and Carmy were on the same wavelength. There were times where you both could communicate what you were thinking with a simple look. He often could tell what you were feeling just by your body language. 99% of the time he was right.

Which is how he knew as soon as you walked through the back door of the Bear that something was wrong.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” He asked you as you started taking your coat off.

“Nothing.”

Carmen grabbed your hands to stop you, “(Y/n), what’s wrong?”

You huffed, “Nothing is wrong, Carmen.”

Carmen. Not Carmy or Bear. Not Babe.

Carmen.

It definitely set off his inner alarm.

“I’m not lettin’ you into that kitchen without you telling me what happened.” He stood his ground. You knew he was being serious.

“There’s this construction worker at the new bakery down the street that tried to catcall me nearby. He’s just an idiot and wouldn’t shut the fuck up.”

“Did he touch you?”

“No, nothing like that. He just didn’t catch the hint that I’m not interested and then called me a “bitch” because I ignored him.”

In that moment, you could see the fury ignite in Camry’s eyes.

“I’ll be right back.” Before you could grab his arm to stop him, he brushed past you and out the back door.

“Richie!” You shouted as you put your coat back on.

It was only a matter of seconds before Richie rushed to you, “What’s goin’ on?”

“Your cousin is about to do something very stupid.” You answered him.

“If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that fuckin’ sentence.” He said before leaving out the door with you right on his heels. You could see Carmy was already ahead of you both at the end of the alleyway. He turned to his left and made his way down to the new bakery.

“Carmen!” You shouted as you hurried to try and catch up to him. You knew he wouldn’t stop.

“Yo! Cousin!” Richie ran faster than you did and was closer to Carmy but you hurried as quickly as you could.

As you turned left, you could see that Camry was at the bakery. The construction worker that hit on you was standing outside. He was taller than Carmen but lankier. Thankfully, he was alone.

“Are you the fucker that called my girl a “bitch”?” You heard Carmy ask the man as you caught up to them.

“And if I did?” The guy dropped his clipboard on the ground and stepped up to Carmen.

Richie quickly stood between Carmy and the asshole that started all of this mess. Camry tried to shove Richie away.

In that moment, a million different scenarios ran through your mind. The majority of them didn’t look good. You didn’t want Carmen to get hurt by some dumb idiot that didn’t know how to respect women.

You placed your hand around Carmen’s bicep and tried to pull him towards you, “Carmen, this guy isn’t worth it! Let’s go back to the restaurant.”

Carmen was practically seething at this point. He wished he could’ve had a few minutes alone with the creep to teach him a lesson. He was partially mad at himself because he normally walked with you to work but he needed to be at the restaurant earlier than you that morning.

He was positive that creep wouldn’t have said shit if he’d walked with you.

“Call my girl out of her name again and I’ll fuckin’ smash your head on this cement!”

By now, a couple of the creep’s coworkers came out of the store. They grabbed him and started pulling him back inside. You heard one of them tell him that he was already on his second strike with their boss.

“Cousin! It’s time to go. You better be glad that I was here because that dude would’ve whooped your ass.” Richie tried to joke to made light of the situation.

“Fuck off.” Carmen told him before he grabbed your hand, “Are you okay?”

“You shouldn’t have done that, Carmen.” You mumbled as Richie walked ahead of the two of you. You just wanted to get back to the restaurant and forget about what just happened.

“I wasn’t going to let some idiot disrespect the woman that I love.” Carmen explained to you.

You didn’t say anything else on the short walk to the Bear. Richie was already inside telling everyone what happened. You were positive that you were going to hear about it all day.

“Hey, c’mere.” Carmy grabbed your hand again and led you to the small office. He closed the door after you stepped inside, “Are you mad at me?”

You shook your head, “No, of course not. I just don’t think it was a wise idea for you to confront that guy.”

Carmy walked towards you and cupped your cheek lightly with his right hand, “I don’t care if it wasn’t wise. I’m not going to let any dumb fuck ever call you out of your name.”

You leaned into his touch and he brought his other hand and placed it gently on the back of your head. You rested against his chest. “Thank you, Carmy. My protector.

He felt a little better that you were calling him by his nickname again. Carmy kissed the top of your head, “Anytime, (Y/n).”

You both took a moment to bask in the silence while still embracing. The rest of the day was sure to be filled with the loud noise of the kitchen but the moment between the two of you put you both at ease.

After sharing a few soft and meaningful kisses, you pulled back and sighed a little, “We probably should get out there. I’m sure everyone is wondering what we are doing.”

Carmy reluctantly let you go, “Yeah, let’s go and get the day started.”

You took off your jacket again and set it on the coat hook, “You should get Richie a nice gift.”

“What? Why would I do that?” Carmy asked confused.

“Because that guy would’ve beat the shit out of you.” You joked.

Carmy cracked a smile as he gave you a tap on your behind, “Is that so?”

You nodded playfully, “Absolutely. I probably should be thanking Richie right now instead of you. Actually, I think I’ll go do that now.”

Carmen quickly grabbed you by the waist and drew you closer to him again as you laughed, “Well aren’t you hilarious.”

[folkloresthings]

thinking about carmen berzatto having the fattest crush of his life on the new waitress/hostess at the bear. natalie and richard had interviewed you, raving about your experience and sweet nature, but carmen had only half-paid attention. on your first day, though, as richie was showing you the ropes, he spotted you through the kitchen’s window.

“who’s that?” he asked nat, knife frozen mid—cut while he stared.

“the new waitress, i told you about her last week,” nat sighed, annoyed at her brother’s lack of attention until she catches that look in his eye. then, she just smiles.

he makes sydney swap work stations with him after that, so he doesn’t get distracted every time you walk past the kitchen door. it’s bad enough that he can’t focus on the dish he’s plating when he knows you’ll be so close to him when he calls for hands. once did his hand shake when he passed a plate to you, nearly dropping it if it weren’t for your reflexes. you had worn your hair differently that night, that’s why, stealing his conscience for a moment.

richie, god dammit, had seen it happen. and he took every single opportunity for the rest of the night — no, week, to tease carmy for it. it only riled the chef up more than usual, forcing him deeper into his shyness and silence around you. whenever he did have to speak to you, he falls over his words and loses that strict composure the kitchen taught him.

because, hell, you’re so pretty and you’re so sweet to him and all of the customers. they always leave notes about you in their reviews, so even at home when he’s reading through them he can’t escape you. you’re like an angel, he swears, and far too good for him. he wants you, needs you so close to him — so he can smell your perfume or brush your hand on purpose for once. but he’ll be the ruin of you, this perfect thing, and he can’t be the one to break you.

[arlowthenacho]

cherry wine

(carmen berzatto x reader)

summary: carmy has panic attack and calls for you.

warnings: cussing, fem presenting reader, kissing, intended lowercase, please let me know if i misses anything !

wc: 975

a/n: omg its finally done...part 2 to “that funny feeling” !! its a bit short but i dont have the patience for anything longer lmao. @unbearableblog ik you wanted to be tagged so here you go <3

its been a week.

a week since carmen invited you to his house. and the funny thing is, its happened again. more than again, actually.

within the seven days after he originally asked you to come over, you’ve been invited to come back about 5 more times, all for the same reason. being a little taste tester for carmy. telling him what needs salt and what’s too bland and what’s perfect and doesn’t need any more tinkering.

and what’s even funnier than the fact you’ve been in carmen berzatto’s kitchen at 11:00 pm for the better part of the week is the fact he hasn’t tried to get in your pants at all. not once.

all he’s done is…talk.

about you, about him, about his family, and about yours. and its been nice.

refreshing.

seeing this other side of him, this vulnerable side of him, has been almost eye-opening. everything you thought he was had been turned to dust and reborn with new perspective. carmen berzatto wasn’t just the guy who occasionally hooked up with you to let off some steam anymore.

he was soft, and gentle, and vulnerable, and sweet. sure, he had his faults. his stubbornness, his ceaseless need for perfection, and most of all, his pride, but the sweet balanced the sour.

your thoughts drift back to the show playing on the t.v briefly, when a buzzing in your back pocket stuns you out of focus.

carmy parmy 🧑‍🍳

can u comw over?

huh. carm never really misspelled words. whatever.

course! gimmie likeee 15 mins

carmy parmy 🧑‍🍳

please come quickly

shit. now you’re worried.

you hastily make your way towards your bedroom and throw on a hoodie and leggings, damn near sprinting to your car.

after turning on the ignition and pulling out of your garage, you’re right back where you were a week ago. only this time you wear a concerned frown.

“carmen?” you rap your knuckles against the door, your breaths coming short and shallow.

“its unlocked,” his voice is hardly his right now. its all television static and distance.

you burst through the door and frantically scan the room for any trace of carmy. after a couple seconds of searching, you see him curled into himself on the floor of his kitchen, hands in his hair.

your heart drops six feet deep as you sit next to him, taking his hands into yours.

“hey, carm. what’s the matter, hmm?” you spoke with a foreign gentleness, a tone that was never usually present between you and carm.

“i just—i cant…” he hyperventilates. “i can’t breathe,”

and within a second, your blood was lead and dropping your organs to hell.

“i cant—”

he can barely finish his sentence before being enveloped in your arms. the sinking in your gut was still present, but you ignored it. you both just sat on the floor, holding each other together.

after a while of holding carmen, his breathing had somewhat evened out. he releases the white-knuckling grip on your shoulders and lifts his head from your chest. you brush the stray hairs out of his eyes and smile softly.

"hi, baby,"

he takes a stuttering breath.

"hi."

"what happened, carm?" you whisper, not daring to break the silence you both have fallen into. carmen takes another deep breath before letting the words fall from his lips.

"its, uh. family stuff. my mom is fucking insane and it just..." he pauses, takes another breath, and continues. "during christmas one year, she went really crazy. and it gave me some lasting issues."

your heart ached for him in a way that you can't explain. he spoke a little more about his warped family dynamics before trailing off. he meets your eyes again, but with a look in his eyes that you can't quite place. you're rendered speechless for a second before finding the words to say to him.

"you're safe now, baby. you're safe now." you pick the both of you off the floor and towards the couch, still grasping carmen tightly.

another week passed since carmen had the panic attack.

that night, you stayed at his house for the first time. you're departure was abrupt and maybe a bit rude, but in your defense, you panicked. however, you have been over his apartment pretty frequently for one reason or another.

today, you've been invited over to cook.

its 12:34, which is a normal time for carmen to ask for you, when you start to get ready. you only throw on a bra, some socks, and more comfortable shorts before you get in your car and drive to carmen's.

your knuckles rap against his door twice before he opens it.

"hey, hi, come in," he rushes out, mindlessly taking your hand and dragging you inside.

"oh, alright then," you mumble, letting yourself be pulled into his space.

the kitchen smells like an array of spices and you look at the bottles that litter carmy's counter. rosemary, tumeric, paprika, chili flakes and more things that you can't pronounce are written on the glass.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when carmy picks you up by the waist and places you on a clean portion of the counter. you smile at him and swing your legs against the cabinets below.

"what do you have for me today, carm?" you tease.

"this."

he nearly lunges for you and attaches his lips to yours. he tastes hungry, like hes been starved of your lips for an eternity. you gasp an press back into his mouth with a matching passion. his hands find your waist and yours find his hair. a whirlwind of pulling and tugging sends you both into a frenzy before he parts away for air.

"this wasn't about the food, was it?" you breathe. he giggles, the sound akin to something angelic.

"no, it wasn't. it never was."

[carmenberzattosgf]

needy carmen…perhaps the one time you can make his head completely empty, no lingering thoughts or anxieties. he’d have you in missionary, almost bear hugging you as he rambles praise because he needs to be touching you, needs to feel you pressed right against him with no space. and he knows he sounds pathetic, small ‘uh, uh, uh’s leaving his lips but he can’t bring himself to care, not when you are squeezing him so tight

“fuuuck, just needed you so bad. need this pretty pussy on me all the fuckin’ time.” he’s barely thrusting now, just grinding into you as he holds you tight. “need to feel you cum, fuckin’ give it t’me, be, shhit! be good and make a mess for me, please, please, c-can’t cum before you,” his arms tightening around you and his jaw dropping, “can feel you clenching, c’mon, don’t be greedy, please give it to me—theeeere it is, fuck! good girl, shit, gonna fill you up so good.” -💫

This type of scenario happens when Carmy realizes he hasn’t had sex with you in at least a week. He’s been going into the restaurant early and staying late trying to perfect some new recipes.

Consequently, Carmen grows more irritable in the kitchen as the week goes on, but still doesn’t realize why he’s so on edge. That is, until Richie jokes about Carmy acting ‘so pent up lately’, and a lightbulb goes off in his head.

Within the next hour, Carmy’s already come up with an excuse to leave work early, telling Sydney you’ve got a stomach bug and need him to get home. He goes ahead and takes off for tomorrow, too.

The second Carmy walks in the door of your shared apartment, he’s kissing you like his life depends on it. His head empties of every thought except you. His hands move hastily on your body, slipping underneath your shirt to squeeze at the skin of your hips. You’re finally able to speak when his lips trail down your jaw to your neck.

“Carm—baby. S-shouldn’t you be at the work?” you gasp as he nips your skin.

“Left. Took off tomorrow.” He mumbles against your neck in between kisses. “Needed you too bad to wait.”

Needed is an understatement. Carmy’s yearning for your touch. He’s on top of you with both of his arms wrapped around your back. His strong arms pull you tight against him as he buries his head in the crook of your neck.

Soft gasps escape his mouth with every thrust of his hips. The sounds of his desperate whines are obscene, but he can’t find a reason to care about how wanton his voice is when you squeeze around him so perfectly.

“Missed you—fuck—missed this. This pretty pussy is made f’me—holy shit. Never going to go this long without it again.”

He knows you’re close by the way you pulse around him, so he starts grinding his hips into you to stimulate both your clit, and that spongy spot deep inside of you. Carmy holds you even closer as words spill from his lips.

“C’mon baby. Need you to cum f’me. Fuck, fuck, fuck. G-give it to me, please. Be a g-good girl and m-make a mess all over my cock. I can’t cum before you I—I need to feel it baby, please. C’mon I know you can cum for me. F-fucking squeezing me so tight.”

Carmy’s hitting as deep as he can inside of you; the stimulation is mind numbing. Your nails dig into his back as he sloppily kisses your cheek. The moment you wrap your legs around his waist, the slight shift in angle launches you right to that peak. “Carmy, Carmy, Carmy, Carmy,” you whine over and over again as pure pleasure overwhelms you.

“There it is! Holy shit—Good girl—good fucking girl. So f-fucking perfect. Gonna fill you up, yeah? Fill you up till you’re dripping.”

After Carmy cums, he collapses on top of you. Without even meaning to, the both of you fall asleep in each other’s embrace. His cock is still inside you, and his cum slowly leaks out of you during the night. It doesn’t matter though, Carmy will just fuck another load into you when he wakes up.

[heavenbarnes]

Jesus loves her, she wants more

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x AFAB Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB (no pronouns), blasphemy, praise kink, oral (m!receiving), unprotected sex (always use protection), finishing inside, swearing, mentions of knives (it's a kitchen), inappropriate workplace relationship (boss/employee), idiots at the end.

Word Count: 2.9k

Working title was "No harm, no foul: How a praise kink nearly ruined a career." No, really, this stemmed from my immediate understanding that I'd never be able to work for this man.

Good job.

Fundamentally, that's what it was. It's a good job, it's a good location, it's good pay (for the most part).

It's a good job.

You're good at it, if you do say so yourself. Prepping food, thin slices, plating up, it comes naturally to you.

You do a good job.

At least that's what he tells you.

"Chef-" Carmy's voice cut through the air, your plate in his hands as he swiped the edge of it with his cloth.

You waited for the drop, the punchline, the clincher- whatever you wanted to call it, you could feel yourself on the knife's edge waiting for it.

"Good job, it's beautiful."

It's a good job that you're good at.

Not something that you'd want to jeopardise, you know that much to be true.

"Good job, chef."

"Nice, chef, nice."

"Making me happy, chef. Keep that up."

It should be enough, good job with a good team and a boss that isn't a total jackass.

"Just like that, chef."

It's not like you're doing it on purpose, just one of those things you cannot control.

"Yes, chef."

You're good at what you do, and Carmy's good at reminding you.

"That's it, chef, that's it."

A little distracting, that's all it is. No harm, no foul.

-

You tucked your fingertips against the carrot, knuckles against the flat of the knife as you followed it through the vegetable. Tiny matchsticks flitted against the chopping board as you carried out the motions.

Perfecting your julienne cut was your new-week resolution and it'd been riding your ass a bit. You didn't know if your eyes were betraying you after all the repetition but you were sure the sticks were getting bigger.

Placing your knife down, you lent until your nose was centimetres from the board, laying up two pieces of carrots together. So intent on your task of comparison, you didn't even register the office door opening.

"Still here, chef?"

You'd hoped Carmy had missed the way his presence made you jump, but in all honesty, he could've passed a bus under you. His brows rose a little as you did, the faintest hint of a smile under his expression.

"Yes, chef." You stepped away from the carrots you'd had under a microscope. "Just trying to get my prep done for tomorrow."

He didn't say anything, just nodded knowingly as he stepped towards your space. A nervous glance around the kitchen confirmed for you that everyone else had gone home. Come to think of it, you vaguely remember them throwing you a 'goodbye' or two as they left.

It was just you and Carmy.

Your attention was drawn back to him as he brought his elbows forward to lean on the bench in front of you. He surveyed your handiwork, picking one of the carrot sticks out of the pile.

When he held it between his thumb and forefinger, it looked considerably smaller than it had before. Truthfully, it looked-

"Perfectly julienned, chef."

The lump in your throat caught and refused to release. You swallowed harshly, nodding your head with a queasy smile.

"Thank you, chef. Been practicing hard."

He placed the piece of carrot between his lips and nodded. It seemed to be in agreement, that he'd seen you practicing hard and was well aware.

"They look bad to you because you've been doing it too long."

So, not only was he a masterfully talented chef- Carmy had also acquired the ability to mindread.

"Leaning half a millimetre from the board isn't going to help either."

You snorted a laugh out your nose and it was your turn to nod in agreement. You reminded yourself that he'd probably been in this spot before, he wasn't really a mindreader.

At least you hoped he wasn't. He'd probably think you were fucking depraved.

You both looked towards the one last carrot you had to prep before you could allow yourself to rest. Dragging it onto the board, you suddenly became acutely aware of Carmy's gaze on you.

Flickering your eyes up, you found him already looking at your face and not your knife. The silence that past between the both of you was loud, his expression never moved an inch.

"Show me how you do it, chef?"

Jesus Christ.

Swallowing against that lump in your throat, you nodded once before finally breaking eye contact. Focusing back on your hands, you measured your knife up against the carrot for your first stroke.

This was going to be just your luck. Carmy's presence would, undoubtedly, screw over your chances of impressing him. You could already feel your wrist shaking as you tried to follow through with the weight of your knife handle.

Three or four strikes in, you felt a gentle touch against your elbow. Silently, you prided yourself in not letting that make you jump this time. Carmy was reaching across the bench, hand holding your elbow in closer to your side and subsequently improving the cut of your knife.

Moving his hand away, you allowed yourself to feel a strike of disappointment as you kept your elbow where he left it. Disappointment dissipated into heart-palpitations as you caught Carmy moving around to your side of the bench in your peripheral vision.

Stood on your side, you could feel him watching your every move like a hawk. You tried your hardest to focus on the food before you, paying no attention to the way his eyes were no longer on the same thing. The feeling of his gaze on the side of your face was unmistakable.

"Just like that, chef."

If your lip didn't start bleeding from the pressure your teeth had around it, it'd be a miracle. You had a hard enough time being normal when he was walking behind you in a kitchen full of people. But this?

This?

Alone, nearly pressed against your side. Undivided attention perfectly trained on you. Quiet but constant praise for your work. Breath ghosting across you and faintly tinged by the piece of carrot he'd stolen earlier.

You thought you might pass out.

What once was a whole carrot soon became one last match stick, gathering them at the edge of the board with the blade of your knife. Carmy finally looked away from you and back to the board, studying the product of your efforts.

"Very good chef."

"Thank you, chef."

Flickering your eyes to the side, you found him fixed back on you again. You held the tension a moment until you felt something pressing against your side.

Carmy was handing you the plastic container for your carrots.

"Oh- thank you, chef."

He stepped off as you collected them all into the container and laid the labelled tape across the lid. Picking up the cucumbers you'd worked through earlier, you stepped around Carmy to reach the chiller. Propping the door open with your foot, you lent into the place your prep on the shelves.

Stepping back out, you swung the door shut and turned on your heel to find Carmy leaning across the bench in front of you. His arms were crossed against his chest as he just lingered.

"You did good today, chef." He remarked, pulling the cloth off his shoulder and pocketing it in his apron. "Deserve to go home and get some rest."

God damn it.

You didn't want this to end. Sure, your feet were fucking killing you and you were pretty sure your eyes would shut of their own accord any moment - but this shouldn't end.

There was a pit in the bottom of your stomach that said this wouldn't happen again. The kitchen would be full, Carmy wouldn't be so close, so kind, so- him.

Trying to reason with yourself was a bit redundant. Every time you'd had the talk with yourself, the 'chances are, he isn't actually into you' talk, there was still a bigger voice convincing you that there was still a chance he was.

Then that talk developed into, the 'just because you can, doesn't mean you should' talk. That one was arguably more important. That talk was reminding yourself that it was a good job, a good gig, something you shouldn't mess up.

Going after your boss was a sort of surefire way to mess it up. You had it good, you didn't need to push it any further because pushing it could well and good send it over the edge.

You were good, this was good, keep it good.

"You're good, chef. Very good."

Let sleeping dogs lie.

"Real nice, chef."

Pretty fucking distracting.

"There isn't anything else I can help with tonight?" One shot, you'll give yourself one shot.

If he politely declines, then that's your signal to leave this one be. Go home, go to bed, come back tomorrow, do some good work.

Carmy placed his hands on the bench behind him and used the leverage to push himself up to standing. He took one step closer to you, almost bridging the gap.

"You any good at paperwork?"

Yes, chef. Very good.

-

Carmy's foot kicked his office door shut as you walked backwards into the room, the backs of your thighs hitting the edge of the desk. The move of his lips against yours was torturous, somehow better than those late night fantasies you usually treated yourself to.

One of his arms looped around your back, pulling you into his front as the other swiped out behind you to clear off his desk. The aforementioned paperwork went flying to the floor, floating delicately around your feet as he took up space between your parted thighs.

You'd been fighting with the arousal that'd claimed home in the pit of your stomach since he'd appeared earlier in the night. You knew that you'd have to sate it soon before it killed you.

However.

There was an even bigger part of you that knew exactly what you wanted, what you need. That part of you knew that if Carmy was that generous with praise when you so much as seared a steak, you were sure you'd could get it in other ways.

Allowing his tongue to take over your mouth, you ran your hands down his chest and tugged at his apron. He quickly pulled back to take it from over his head, back to kissing you as he untied it from his back. Your fingers began burrowing under his chef's whites, palm smoothing over his crotch.

Groaning into your mouth, he bucked his hips into your hand as you started breaching his waistband. One hand on his pants, the other cupping his jaw, you turned the both of you so he was leaning against the desk. Slowly, you dropped down to your knees before looking up at him with a smile.

He had that look of bewilderment across his face that you sometimes saw when the kitchen was overwhelming him. This time, he was just taking things in, grappling with the fact he finally had you on your knees before him.

Undoing his pants, you brought them down his thighs just enough to free his cock into your hand. Holding it in one hand, you ran your tongue from the base to the tip in one long stroke. Carmy shuddered above you, one hand gripping the table and the other taking your head.

"This good, chef?"

His eyes screwed shut, a long and shaky breath leaving his chest as he nodded furiously.

"Very good, you're very good." He sucked another breath back in. "But you cannot call me 'chef' right now or I'll never be able to work in the kitchen again."

"Heard, ch- Carmen."

He wasn't sure if his full name was going to help him any better, the way his hips stuttered and pushed the head of his cock through your lips. Your tongue enveloped him, suctioning around him as you bobbed your head into him.

Saliva filled your cheeks, running out the corners of your mouth as you pushed right down on him. Carmy's head tipped back, hand securing tighter around the back of your head to keep you there.

"That's it, just like that - you're doing so good."

Your thighs squeezed together in your spot on the floor. That praise sounded better than any time you'd successfully plated a dish, that was in a league of it's own.

Looking up, it was nearly enough to put you in an early grave. His hair was disheveled as ever, but knowing that it was your doing was different. He opened his eyes in time to see you watching him, a cocky smile drifted across the bliss on his face.

"You know you're good, don't you?"

Pulling off him with a pop, you wiped away some spit as you smiled proudly.

"Mhmm, yes, Carmen."

His smile dropped as you spoke, one of your hands still jerking him off as the other came to cup his balls. He went to speak again but was betrayed by the moan that fell out instead.

The hand on your head moved around to your jaw, cupping it gently to tilt up and look at him. "Up here, please."

You'd never get enough of his orders. He had a way of saying them in the kitchen that made you forget a "please" even existed. That being said, the way he used a "please" was something else all together.

Coming up off your knees, you allowed him to make quick work of your chef's whites, pushing your pants down to your knees. He pressed you up against the desk, tilting your head back to he could re-capture your lips with his.

You felt the blunt head of him pressing against your entrance, collecting the slick as he began to push in. Your mouth dropped open, allowing him to get his tongue back into it, as he had before. His initial stretch had your knees buckling, until his arm tightened around your front to hold you up.

"Next time, I want my mouth on you," He hummed against your lips. "Wanna' hear those manners of yours."

There was so much to unpack in his one sentence.

One, there was going to be a next time. He envisioned this happening more than once.

Two, he noticed your manners, your responsiveness in the kitchen. Your manners to him was his praise to you.

Carmy's hips snapped into motion as he drove himself into you, repeatedly rocking into you. Your chest opened up with a symphony of moans, unable to keep any of it to yourself.

"That's it, lets hear what you have to say, huh?"

"Carmen- feels, fuck, feels-"

"Mmm? Feels good?"

"Feels so fucking good."

He hummed contentedly, satisfied with your babbling in bliss. "Always so responsive for me."

You shot an arm out in front of you to brace on the desk, all of this at once was a touch overwhelming. Coupled with the way Carmy slipped his free hand down to touch you, circling his fingers until your back was arching for him.

The coil in the pit of your stomach was wound dangerously tight, ready to snap at any moment. Carmy was dead set on getting you there, skilled fingers matched with the steady roll of his hips, your vision was beginning to blur with tiny stars pricking the corners.

"Fuck- Carmen, I'm gonna'-"

"Yeah, you are." He cooed, hips picking up just a touch. "Let me here it, baby."

And that did it.

You always knew it'd be his words that did it. Part of him knew it too.

Your whole body wound tight, muscles strained until you felt it come loose inside you. A white-hot flood overtook you, legs shaking as you felt yourself tip right over the edge.

Carmy had a good hold on you, working you through your orgasm as your body was giving out on you. Once the blood rushing in your ears quieted down, you could hear the faint sounds of him talking you through it.

"Very good."

"That's it."

"Just like that."

Letting your arms give out, your front laid against Carmy's desk as he chased towards his own high. You felt one of his palms splayed against your lower back, pulling you back onto him as he drilled his hips into you.

"You want it? Think you've earnt it?"

You threw him a look back over your shoulder, fucked out expression with a blissed smile painted on your face. "Yes, chef."

Carmy's hips stuttered, his eyes locked on yours as he still with his final thrust. Coming hot inside you, his final pumps sending aftershocks through your body as you enjoyed the way it overtook him entirely.

You watched the way he pulled out, tapping his cock against your ass a couple times before helping you pull your pants back up. Both of you fixed your chef's gear in the office, quickly picking up the discarded papers that managed to reach all corners of the room.

Both of you went to your lockers, grabbing your belongings and purposefully ignoring the time on the clock beside you. As you shrugged your jacket on, you couldn't help but peer beside you. Thankfully, Carmy was already looking your way.

You both shared a smile that soon broke into quiet laughter as you picked your bag up. You couldn't even help yourself. "So, did I do good?"

"Yes, chef," Carmy rolled his eyes with a snort. "Good job."

[aestheticaltcow]

Gimme a Minute

Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Just something I threw together while I was waiting for my individual supervision session to start.

The Bear Masterlist

“Hey, baby.” Carmy greeted you as he entered your shared apartment. You hadn’t heard him due to wearing your noise-canceling earbuds. “Yo, baby?” he called again as he hung his jacket in the closet adjacent to the front door. “Baby- you mad or somethin’?” he asked as he strode toward the couch. Carmy swallowed nervously before putting a hand on your shoulder- you practically jumped out of your skin when you felt his calloused fingertips on your bare shoulder.

“Carmy! You scared the shit out of me!” you yelped as you removed your earbuds. Carmy’s face shifted from worry and concern to a more relaxed demeanor. You weren’t mad at him. You just failed to hear him walk into the apartment that night- the thought of that being semi-concerning; I mean, what if Carmy had been a serial killer or something? You would’ve gotten murdered. Safe to say, Carmy had a new fear unlocked, and his momentary relief quickly faded. “You’re home early,” you commented, placing your earbuds back into their charging case. He nodded and tried to push the thoughts of coming home to blood-splattered walls out of his head.

“What had you so invested?” Carmy questioned you as he moved to sit next to you on the couch. You groaned and leaned back on the sofa, your laptop almost falling from where it had been perched on your knees. “This stupid freakin’ string theory homework. If I’d left your place when I was supposed to, I wouldn’t be stuck in the hardest science class my school offers.” you playfully scolded him.

Carmy chuckled and put his head on your shoulder before scooting closer to you, “You enjoyed yourself. Didn’t you?” 

You met his question with an eye roll, “You know I did…I’d ask you to help with this assignment, but considering you don’t know the periodic table of elements, I don’t think you’ll be very helpful.” 

Carmy shook his head, “Lemme help you in a different way.” 

“How are you horny? You left for work at like 4 AM and now it’s almost midnight. You’re a madman, Berzatto.” you laughed as you looked at him. You’d never understood how Carmy existed; he ran on five, maybe six hours of sleep most of the time, and you were convinced that he- a three Michelin star chef- only consumed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I guess it did make sense why he had stomach ulcers at 27- but that was a thought you could push to the back of your mind for now. 

“I just wanted to cuddle.” Carmy laughed as he lifted his head from your shoulder before continuing, “But I’m not one to turn down destroying that-” You cut Carmy off by placing your thumb against his lips. “Carmen. Gimme a minute to save this- why don’t you go get the shower ready?” you winked, dropping your hand and turning your attention back to your laptop. He shook his head as his lips formed a sinister smirk, “I could do that.”

“Yea? I bet you could do that.” you taunted without looking up from your computer. Carmy reached for your chin and gently pulled your head to face him. He stared into your eyes, and you felt your cheeks getting hotter by the millisecond, “Don’t be a brat- you’re my good girl. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, chef.”

[illusivelle]

chicken scratch

pairing: carmen 'carmy' berzatto x reader rating: t (for now) length: 1,028 words content: mild cursing summary: you've never met your neighbour, but you've received plenty of their mail and now, a large package. of all the stories you made up in your head about who this 'carmen berzatto' could be, the real thing might just be your new favourite. a/n: brain rot means a middle of the night word dump. will likely be the first of many little stories about your next door neighbour, carmen, because that dynamic lives in my mind rent free. fluff for now, but we all know what that means (it means it'll definitely become nsfw later, sooner probably). read part two link to ao3 here!

The first letter was a mistake, the second one was a coincidence. The third one was not a big deal and the fourth was only a little more than a nuisance. But when a much larger package thudded against your front door at the ass crack of dawn, the recipient clearly written across the top of the cardboard box as your neighbour… well, that was just flat out annoying at this point. You hadn't even known deliveries made their rounds so early in the day and as big as the box was, when you lifted it to carry next door, it weighed lighter than a feather.

The pile of letters that accidentally found their way to your apartment were usually slipped through the small mailbox of your neighbour's, sometimes under the door. You'd thought about dropping the package and simply going about your day, but curiosity got the better of you as your knuckles rapped against the door and waited instead.

What could a Carmen Berzatto have possibly required to be delivered at this time?

In the time you've lived in the building, there'd been very few run-ins with other tenants. Not that you'd ever complain, perfectly content with your own company. You made friends with one elderly lady who always offered you some of her freshly baked bread, and in return you picked her up flowers and some extra produce on your farmer's market runs. The landlord wasn't your friend, but he wasn't your enemy either, and somehow you'd convinced him to let you paint your bathroom your favourite colour with little to no resistance. But your next door neighbour remained a mystery, one you've conjured up about a dozen different backstories and personalities for.

Carmen Berzatto, notorious criminal, hiding out in a tiny Chicago apartment. Carmen Berzatto, hundred-year-old vampire, who might either burn in the sun or look like they'd walked through a glitter bomb. Carmen Berzatto, part time Chicagoan, who actually doesn't live here anymore and maybe there's a squatter inside instead. Carmen Berzatto, the tax evader, because why else would they have so much goddamn mail being sent to them?

You'd been lost in the web of made-up histories for your neighbour when the door swung open to reveal said neighbour, and it slowly dawned on you that there wasn't a single story where you imagined Carmen Berzatto to look like that.

Piercing, wide blue eyes and a head of shaggy brown tufts that made you want to tangle your fingers through them, especially that small curl dangling just above his forehead.

"Hi." His greeting was laced with mild confusion that seemed immediately alleviated when his attention dropped to the box in your hands. "Oh."

"Hi," you blurted out, lifting the package, "got another one for you."

"I—I'm sorry about— about, uh, about all of that. It won't happen again."

"Won't it?" You were mostly teasing now. Although you were jolted awake by the sound of it thrashing against your door, and although you were rather peeved about getting up before you wanted to, you couldn't find it in yourself to be irritated anymore.

Carmen reached out to take the box from you, giving it a small shake with what you thought was a ghost of a smile before he set it down to the side somewhere you couldn't see. "It won't. I'm sorry." The flirt of his tongue along his lips brought your gaze toward it before you met his eyes again.

Those stunning icy blues.

"It's okay, nothing to be sorry for."

"I must've really fucked up on the— the uh, apartment number."

"What?"

"The apartment number."

"Yeah," you looked at him a bit dumbfounded, gaze darting to the door where the number and letter were, "what about it?"

"I—"

"You don't know your apartment number?"

"My writing's shit."

Both of you seemed to blink in unison, another lick of Carmen's lips which you mirrored before a stupid smile curled your lips. "Oh."

"Not a good excuse, I know." He nodded, jaw working as he turned his head to the metal on the door, a short and deep chuckle sounding from him. "Again, I—"

"Not sorry," you shook your head, "just chicken scratch."

For a moment, Carmen stared at you, and if it wasn't bad enough to have those too-blue eyes simply looking at you, to find them nearly boring holes as they danced between your eyes and across your face made you want to evaporate. Made you wish the ground would open up and swallow you hole. Made you want to drown in the depths of the ocean blues that were his irises.

"Just chicken scratch," he murmured after a beat of silence and what was once a ghost of a smile was definitely something now, the corner of his mouth lifting enough to wrinkle the corner of his eye. Enough to show you the dimple in his cheek. "Thanks for— for bringing the package."

"Yeah." And the smile unfurling on your lips was nothing short of genuine. "You're welcome, Carmen."

"Just, uh, just Carm is good. Carmy."

"Okay."

Another beat passed where you thought you might have been rendered frozen by one of your favourite shades of blue, glued to the floor through hypnosis, until a sound down the hall caught your ear and you nodded at Carmen. Turning on your heel, you took the first step back to your apartment, then another, and another.

And it wasn't until you had your hand stretched out to grab for your doorknob when you heard his voice echo from where you'd came. "See you around?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

The moment hung in the air on a thin thread, the both of you sharing furtive and hidden smiles before his door closed and yours opened.

Carmen Berzatto, not a notorious criminal (to your knowledge) or a hundred-year-old vampire (yet). Nor was he a part-time Chicagoan (not with that accent) or a tax evader (maybe). None of the ideas you had floating in your mind about your neighbour even came close to the real thing.

Carmen Berzatto, curly-haired blue-eyed boy-next-door with chicken scratch for writing and a fleeting dimple you wanted to see again.

[love-quinn]

— PARTIAL CREDIT

summary — when a new member of the waitstaff starts undermining you, you worry that your job might be in jeapordy. carmen knows you better than you think.

warnings — swearing, i think that's it

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!waitress reader, semi (?) established relationship

pronouns — she/her

word count — 2.2k

note — i know i fully dropped off the face of the earth but unfortunately i was too busy channeling waitress reader a little too hard, i actually have to leave for work in a few hours but i really wanted to get something out. this 100% isn't inspired by true events or me projecting in any way, anyway i hope you enjoy!! <3

Being the only waitress at a successful restaurant is hard. During the dinner rush, between wiping tables, grabbing drinks and running food, you’ve slowly learned to be more adaptable to the Bear’s new clientele base. That’s not without its struggles, of course. 

Fortunately, Carmy and Natalie seem to understand that it’s a major handful to simply do your job. Which is why Richie thought it appropriate to call you in two hours early to meet the new waiter.   

Liam’s nice from what you’ve gathered. He’s been working with you at the Bear for about two months at this point, most of that has involved you and Richie training him, and he’s been very receptive to your instruction. 

Sure, sometimes he mutters under his breath when a customer asks him for something, but hey, they’re annoying sometimes. And sure, sometimes you find him in the walk-in on his phone, but you’d be lying if you said you were never on your phone at work. He’s had no complaints, and the work is always done to a standard that’s expected (he is still in training, you’re not delusional). 

You’ve worked at the Bear since they were still the Beef, right after Carmen took over. He realised Richie couldn’t keep up with the stuff at the front by himself, so he’d gone with the cheapest option available and thanked god every day that you weren’t awful at your job. You had just graduated from UofC and if you didn’t get a job when you had, you would have been pretty much out of options. You had no work experience outside of being a TA in college (which apparently didn’t have a lot of transferable skills, according to most of your potential bosses). You hadn’t been able to score an insane internship, you didn’t make super stellar grades, you’d been too busy being desperately poor and struggling to keep up.

You’d been really lucky that Carmen had taken a chance on you when he had, and you had been desperate to show him you were aware of that. Liam didn’t seem to have the same sentiment.

He was the same age as you, and he’d actually gone to UofC as well. He’d gotten a pre-med degree but wanted to take some time off before he went for his MD at Rosalind Franklin. 

He picked up on the work fairly easily, remembered when you showed him where the cleaning supplies were, showed him how to work the buttons on the till to ring in orders, and introduced him to all the staff. They were nice to him, nice enough. It took them a while to warm up to him, just like it took them a second to warm up to Carmen, to Sydney, to you. 

But now, several months in, they all got along enough that work was going well. You didn’t have to work six days a week if you didn’t want to now that Liam was there to lighten the load (you did, you made sure Natalie knew that). Now, you could actually take your lunch break without worrying they were being completely overrun. 

On the whole, things seemed to really improve. 

Until, of course, they didn’t. 

You started hearing whispers, soft remarks of “Oh, I did that for her,” to Richie about greeting table seventeen. Small “I wonder why that wasn’t done, I’ll just do it quickly.” 

“Not to be that person, but I noticed that a lot of the straws haven’t been stocked up. I feel like I have to do it every time. I just wonder what she’s doing when she’s back here…”

You do your best to not let it get to you. He’s never worked in the service industry before, he’s probably just doing his best to make sure that his efforts are being noticed. You were almost lucky, in that way, that you were the only real waitress they’d hired. 

It’s an unusually warm day as you slide in through the back entrance to work. You’re your usual twenty minutes early, lucky that there’s enough work to do that Carmen often encourages punctuality (and thus, fairly compensates for it). 

Liam is scheduled today, but he’s leaving after the lunch shift. You get your break while the kitchen does prep-work for dinner, and then you’re coming back for dinner as well. 

Marcus is in his corner, kneading bread dough with a concentrated look on his face. You brush past him with an airy hello that he returns with a half-hearted wave, not looking up from his task. 

Tina is on vegetables, and she stops you for a moment to ask about a shipment arriving. You assure her that you’ll check when you get to the other side of the kitchen, making your way to the front.

The chairs are already all down, table cloths clean and freshly washed. Sydney went down to the laundromat to get them all clean that morning; she’d texted you and asked if you wanted to come but you told her that you really, really didn’t. 

Your first job is a pre-opening sweep, then a restock, then a menu review. You have 87 minutes until service, and Liam should be here in the next fifteen minutes or so. You have just enough time to go and bug Richie into showing you more pictures of Eva’s last birthday party. 

You stick your head into the office just in time to catch the tail end of a sentence that you definitely weren’t meant to hear; “...doesn’t even stack the chairs? What is she doing here?”

Your work anxieties - the idea that every time something goes wrong it was your fault, that one missed drink or late appetiser would have you fired, that every time a customer berated you it was actually your fault - had definitely eased some in the six months you’d been working there. You’d stopped thinking that every time someone was complaining it was about you, but that meant that when they really were talking about you, you knew. 

Liam’s standing there, leaning up against a pile of papers that Carmen is staring roughly at. He looks tired - when doesn’t he? - and like he doesn’t really want to hear whatever it was that Liam was saying. 

“A lot more than you do,” Carmen grumbles. He runs a hand over his face from the bottom up, coming to a rest when it’s gripping onto his curls. 

“I’m always covering her sections,” Liam groans. “The amount of time that Rich’s given me her table’s drinks, it’s insane. We should start pooling our tips.”

Carmen wants to say a lot back to that. That his name is Richie, and calling him Rich doesn’t make him any more like the finance frat bros that Liam is so desperate to associate with. That tip pooling would be insanely unfair to you considering Carmy’s pretty sure Liam’s made less than what you make in a day. That he stacks the chairs because he likes to, and you know that. 

Instead, he settles on “you’re always covering her sections because she’s always covering up for you when you screw up.”

Liam looks like he’s unsure whether or not to go ghostly pale or beet red at the statement. “Wh- has my performance not been up to scratch, sir?”

Carmen stands. “I didn’t really notice it, at first, cause everything was going so well. She’d never tell on you, she knows what it’s like to struggle at a job.” He looks disdainfully down at Liam’s too-new dress shoes. Professional but impractical as a waiter. From what Carmen’s noticed, this is the second pair he’s ruined. “She’d never tell me that your silverware is never rolled, so she’s been staying late and rolling every single one of them. She’d never tell me that your tables are never cleared away. She’d never tell me that you had six meals comped in your first month because you couldn’t be fucked writing shit down.

So yeah, maybe you get her tables a refill when she’s too busy telling one of us one of your guests was coeliac because you forgot to, but that does not give you the right to look down your entitled fucking nose at her.” Carmen gets close, not close enough to the point where it could be uncomfortable, but much closer than he’d ever get to Liam if he could help it. 

“You don’t like picking up her slack? That’s fine, that’s fucking fine, because to be honest, it seems like you’re creating more work for her anyway. You’re done.”

He looks pointedly towards the door to the small office. 

Liam knows exactly what Carmy’s telling him. “Sir, I-”

Carmen raises a finger and points. “You’re fucking done.”

Liam scampers away so quickly he doesn’t even see you eavesdropping. 

Carmy knows, though. He seems to have a sixth sense for when you walk into a room. If you’re not planning on coming in to confront him about firing Liam then he has no intention of bringing it up with you. He sits down, putting his forehead on his fist. “Sir.”

You’re standing right in the door, it’s practically impossible for Carmen not to notice you. But he pretends, allowing you the chance to slip away and act like you hadn’t just witnessed him firing Liam for being slightly mean to you. 

He opens his eyes to see you standing there still. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” your voice is soft. The collar of your shirt is tucked underneath on one side, and Carmen has to resist the urge to reach up and smooth it out. He’s not quite sure why and he doesn’t feel like unpacking it. “He’s still learning, I don’t mind helping him out.”

Carmen doesn’t mince his words. “He’s a dick, don’t defend him.”

He swivels away from his desk and gestures for you to sit. After a second of hesitation, you perch yourself on top of the small surface. You’re not sure who moves first, Carmen to reach up and take your hands or you to reach down to let him. Neither of you have ever spoken about it, like a lot of things. How he always makes sure you get extra food and you make sure Carmen isn’t bothered while he sets up the dining room. 

You hadn’t realised how much Liam had been heightening your anxiety while he was there. “He’s not allowed to do that to you.” Carmy sounds genuinely pissed. “You do fucking everything out there, he’s not allowed to come in and treat you like some sanctimonious fuck. You… you should’ve come to talk to me about it.” He gives in. “You could’ve.”

“I didn’t want to be a problem.” You admit quietly. “You have enough without me.”

Plenty goes unsaid between you and Carmen. You don’t talk when he drives you home in the dark, in the snow. But he’d be naive to believe that the same rules applied to everyone else. The kitchen staff talks, none more than Richie. Carmy is surprised he hadn’t decked that pre-med asshole already. 

“You’re not a problem, honey,” he says gruffly. You stay silent for a moment before realising that’s probably all you’re going to get out of him. 

“I need to go prep dining for service,” you say after a moment, not wanting to speak too loudly. 

Camry’s grip on your hand tightens and for a brief second he feels panic set in. You clearly are feeling okay, so it’s not that he needs to check on you. You’re well ahead of schedule. There’s no reason for Carmen to keep his hand enclosed around yours. And yet he does. And yet you let him.

“Liam was just in here bragging about how dining room prep was already done,” he says after a short while. “You’re well ahead of time.”

“He is,” you point out airily. “I’d never want to take credit for his work.”

Carmen squeezes your hands once, eyes crinkling at the sides. You both know you need to go over everything Liam did in an attempt to make himself look better, not one hundred percent trusting him to have done it properly. There’s 56 minutes until service before Carmen finally lets you go (and only because he has prep he needs to get done).

Plenty goes unsaid between you and Carmen. You don’t say anything when he cracks his office door open for you when you need a breather. You don’t say anything when his station’s been cleaned for him miraculously while you’re waiting for him to finish paperwork.

Luckily for you, the rest of your coworkers seem to understand this time. Nobody mentions Liam or his absence. No one mentions the stars drawn on the band-aid on Carmen’s wrist. And, most surprisingly pleasant, no one mentions how Carmen has started calling you honey more than perhaps your real name.

It makes it even nicer when everyone heads out, leaving you and Carmen alone in the restaurant for the night. They seem to have miraculously developed tact over the last 24 hours, but you’re pretty sure nothing could have stopped Richie from telling everyone about the way that Carmen holds your hand the entire way to your apartment. 

[thebearer]

the thought of carmy coming home one day and begging to eat reader out >>

oof. yes yes yes. minors dni 18+

It had been over a week. A week of long night and early mornings. Carmen barely had time to shower, let alone go down on you the way he wanted to. He supposed he should be grateful that he had business and customers and the restaurant was doing well, but, fuck, if he didn't miss you.

He'd nearly busted his jeans this morning looking at you. Your cotton shorts riding up with your hiked leg while you slept, the peeking, teasing outline of your pussy through the cotton. Carmen's mouth salivated at the idea. The thought of spreading you open right there and devouring you until your were a slick, shaky mess all over him.

He didn't have time. Had to be at work.

Still, Carmen knew what he'd be doing tonight. Thought about it all day- about you all day.

During prep he'd nearly sliced his hand open, mind wandering while he thought about you- how your hands would tug at the root of his hair, pull him into you so he was smothered in your wetness while you whined and mewled for him. Carmen had went to his office to compose himself, teetering so close to sneaking home for a quickie just to hold him over, but the new chef had spilt the stock so he had to make more.

Carmen found you on the couch later than night, clearly ready for bed. A big t-shirt and cotton shorts, face freshly washed and all shiny with products. His heart dropped at the thought that he might not get to, that you might be too tired.

"Hi, baby," You hummed, scrolling through your phone. "How was tonight?"

"Are you goin' to bed?" Carmen didn't mean to blurt it out so harshly.

Your brows furrowed. "Yeah, I was waiting for you to get home, but- what are you doing?" Carmen dropped to his knees in front of you, either hand on your knees, pulling them apart.

"I-I gotta taste you." Carmen panted, eyes zeroed in on your clothed pussy. A jolt of heat shot through you, made your tummy flip with excitement. "Please?" Carmen's eyes lifted to yours sweetly, rounded- begging. Begging to taste you. You clenched around nothing.

"Y-Yeah." You nodded, shuddering in pleasure while his fingers hooked around your little cotton shorts, pulling them down. "Are you ok? What's gotten- oh!" There was no warning, no foreplay or teasing.

No, Carmen dove in, nose bumping your swollen clit, tongue lapping at your soaked hole like a man starved. Hands gripping your thighs, your own found his hair easily, tugging and pulling him closer and closer into you.

Carmen's eyes fluttered back, rolling into his head as he let your taste flood over his tongue, hands holding you in place while you squirmed and bucked beneath him, singing his praises through nasally, lilted whines that had his own head reeling.