#dom!carmen berzatto x sub!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emotionoitme · 11 months

Text

about a girl

carmy berzatto x reader (no use of y/n)

warnings: mutual pining, friends with benefits, bdsm dom/sub undertones (some much needed dom! carmen), implied age gap, dirty talk, choking, masturbation, lots of lewd thoughts

wc: 3.8k

a/n: getting excited for season 2 & decided to write a fic for the first time!! staring everyone’s husband & a newer employee at the bear. lots of mutual pining and tension. this was done in a mad frenzy on my phone so i apologize about lack of refinement! please enjoy my horniness over carmy :) i’m thinking about maybe writing a part 2 so stay tuned if you like it <3

nirvana - about a girl

it was never supposed to go this far.

it was never supposed to end up in this position, with her big eyes gazing up at his towering stature, her lips slightly parted, breath heavy.

all of the deliberation, the firm decisions to not pursue, the promises he made to himself, the longing eyes torn away too soon.

he brought his big hand to caress the side of her jaw, and scanned his eyes over her flushed face. she stared up at carmen with blown pupils, leaning into his touch. he likes the way she looks right now—entirely at his mercy, so eager for more of his touches. he continues, running his thumb along the soft skin of her cheek, then delicately tracing it over her supple lips. he swiped over the swell of her bottom lip, pushing it to the side and gently down to reveal her teeth. he fought the urge to push his thumb into her mouth and watch her plump lips suck.

“please,” she breathed out

he clenched his jaw, tore his eyes away from her lips and into her doleful eyes. how he loved the way she sounded and longed to hear more; longed to hear his name exhaled from her mouth; longed to hear pleads and whimpers. he reminds himself to be slow, with gentle sweet touches as to not to startle her; pushing away the many images of what he wants to do to her out of his mind.

“please what?” he asks, thumb still resting on her lip.

her hand creeped up his leg, then fingers timidly hooked onto his belt.

“can i…” she sheepishly turned her face, darting her eyes away. carmen slightly tightens his grip on her jaw, pulling her back to meet his eyes.

“fuck” he exhales sharply, “you know what you do to me?” he takes his finger off her lip, brushing her cheek gently and trailing his fingers down her neck to caress; very delicately squeezing— just enough to hear her let out a sweet sounding breath and watch her cheeks flush at the action. he noticed very quickly the way she gravitated towards his natural dominance; the way her body relaxed and eyes would soften when he gave her commands, or hover over her like this.

his hand traces from her neck and down over the black crew neck shirt she wears, grabbing the hem and pushing it up over her breasts. he groans at the sight, bringing an inked hand to softly caress her right breast, checking her face before gently squeezing before rubbing his thumb over her perked nipple. she fights against a whimper, biting her lip to keep it in. he continues soft circles around the bud, then gently pulls it. her mouth falls open with a pant. carmy brings his left hand to caress her other breast, squeezing them in tandem before removing his hands completely, earning a huff of frustration from the girl. to this, carmen brings his hand back up to grab her face. he leans over, their faces inches apart, and stares into her eyes. “don’t give me that,” he says in a gruff tone. “you know what you’re here for.” cold blue irises overtake her vision, and she attempts to relieve herself of the intense eye contact, eyes darting down to his soft lips, but then quickly back up. the rule was no kissing, as both agreed early on that it blurs the lines too much. he tightens his grip, slightly. she could feel his warm breath on her lips and shifted, trying to alleviate the slick ache in her core.

“carm,” she breathes out, leaning forward, lips ghosting his, he smells so good. he removes his hand from her face, pulling away and standing, a stiffness in his jaw. she leans forward to touch his thighs, “can i just… suck it? to make up for today?” she sweetly asks, kissing his clothed thigh a few times, inching towards his firm bulge.

“fuck” he groans in response, taking in every detail of the scene in front of him. he smirks a bit and rubs a hand over his face, looking at the slightly cracked ceiling of his dark office— then back down at her kneeling form, with eager eyes and soft fingers teasing the threshold of his pants and bare skin.

“yeah? you- you wanna suck it? make up for being a brat earlier?” he asks in a low tone, feeling a pulse in his pants. she enthusiastically nods, biting the edge of her lip. he goes to unbuckle his belt when a loud and sharp bang on the closed door of the office interrupts the two— eliciting a sharp gasp from her. carmen reacts quickly by grabbing her arms and pulling her to her feet, helping her shove her shirt down over her bare chest.

the door swings open to reveal richie, who’s eyebrows raised at the two’s proximity— noticing carmen’s deep breaths and the girl’s flushed face.

“am i interrupting something in here?” richie said with a growing grin on his face.

“no,” carmen retorted quickly, eyes glancing at the girls figure next to him. “i was just telling her she’s fine to go home”. he turns towards the desk and away from richie with the hope to conceal his tented pants. the girl meekly nods, meeting his eyes one last time with a wanting gaze.

“goodnight chef,” she offers softly before slipping by richie and out of the small office. he watches the way her fingers brush her hair past a golden hoop and behind her ear revealing her soft neck, dark with a mark from where his lips had been earlier.

carmy tears his eyes away, taking deep breaths to cool down. he runs a hand through his tousled hair, patting his pockets in search of his cigarette carton.

“what do you want?” he asks gruffly. richie begins his tangent— complaining about “some fuckhead customer coming in at close” and continuing by ranting about his troubles with the new register system. carmen could care less, zoning out as he watched her figure pass by the office door and exit out the back. he was stupid for telling her to get down on her knees in his office, he thought. at least while closing with the most disruptive employee at the bear.

“yo. yo, cousin! you listening to me man?” richie shoved his shoulder, bringing him back to the conversation.

“yes, i was fuckin’ listening,” he snaps, bringing a tattooed hand up to squeeze the side of his neck. he was blatantly lying— richie knew the same, and persisted.

“no you weren’t, you were watching her leave. shit, you know, you better not have the hots for her, man. it’s best to leave the college girls alone, trust me!”

“fuck richie, i told you it’s not like that.” carmen snapped, shoving past him and through the door of the small office, cigarettes in hand.

“okay, whatever man, i saw the guilt all over your faces once i opened the door.” richie continues, “just don’t come crying to me once you’re in too deep, alright?”

carmen tenses. “i don’t get involved with my employees. you’re imagining things.” he runs a hand through his curls. “now get the fuck out of here already, cousin. i’m going out to smoke.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” richie turns to leave, pauses and turns back, “you know i wouldn’t blame you one bit, carmy. she really is a hot piece of a-“

“fuck richie! go home!” carmen interrupts with exasperation. he just wanted the topic to be dropped completely; her name never gracing anyone’s lips but his. any teasing carmen endured regarding her would make him snap almost immediately— because he knew it was completely true. she was younger than him, in her fourth year at the university nearby, and he knew how bad that looked, especially being her boss.

but he had such little self control when it came to her, for reasons unknown. the pull towards her was almost magnetic.

carmen pushes out the back door, cigarette resting in between his lips and a furrow on his brow. a breeze brushes past him as he steps out into the alleyway, the night warm and air thick with june moisture. he notices her to the side of the building almost immediately, letting her thick hair down from a claw clip, waves cascading over her bare shoulders, body clothed by a small halter top tied around her neck. his jaw twitches, raking her in with his eyes and admiring the newly exposed fabric, which he had shamelessly eyed peeking out from under her work clothes earlier. he clears his throat, catching her eye, and walks over to the side of the building.

“hey,” he says simply. her lips shyly curve upwards.

“hi.” a soft response

they share a beat of silence. carmen fishes a lighter out of his pocket and sparks a flame, deeply inhaling the smoke. “you got plans?” he asks, gesturing to her change in outfit, eyes quickly raking over her exposed shoulders and midriff. she shakes her head no, leaning against the wall of the alley, eyes forward. he doesn’t break his stare.

“it was really warm in there…” she elaborates, letting out a breath. a slight smile cracks his face for just a moment, bringing the cigarette to his lips for a drag.

“embarrassed?” he asks, ever so slightly teasing. she whips her head to face him, cheeks reddening.

“are you not?” she exasperates.

carmen shakes his head slightly, “no, he, uh…he didn’t see anything.”

he watches her visibly untense, as her creased brows relax a bit, and she slowly nods her head, “okay, good… i thought i might’ve given richie an eyeful.” carmy lets out a short breath through his nose in humor and clears his throat, eyeing the girl next to him before speaking.

“yeah, uh…that’s my bad. we probably shouldn’t mess around in the restaurant.”

she nods in agreement, with an utterance of a soft, “yeah, we shouldn’t,” trying to hide her slight disappointment. she waits a moment, seeing if he’ll say something else. yearning for an invitation to continue what richie interrupted earlier somewhere else. she takes in his standing form, muscled arms clad in pristine white and imagines what it would be like to sleep in those same arms, to be protected from anything and everything.

she lets out a soft sight, tearing her eyes away, pulling out her phone and checking the time before saying, “i should probably head home, it’s kinda late.”

carmen glances at her. “you got a ride?” he asks.

“no,” she shakes her head, “i’m only like 20 minutes away. just gonna walk.”

“what?” he asks, brows furrowing, “no you’re not.”

“uh, why?” she asks with uncertainty. he scans her face, in disbelief to her obliviousness, but finds she is completely serious.

“because it’s 11 o’clock. and we live in chicago” and you’re dressed like that and i can see your nipples through that shirt and i don’t want anyone to fuckin’ abduct you he chooses not to add, flickering his eyes over her form. she crosses her arms, turning to face carmen, moving closer.

“i have pepper spray,” she rebutes. his facial expression doesn’t change, stoic and wholly unconvinced. “aand,” she adds with a smile, flexing her bicep, “i have these babies.”

his face breaks, unintentionally smirking and looking away, which eggs her on.

“i’m serious, carm! i’ve been hitting the gym. they’re almost as big as yours,” she says, poking the small muscle. he watches her with a soft smile on his face, entertained by the girl's antics to try and convince him. carmy takes a final drag, drops the butt of the cigarette and steps on it, then begins walking.

“cmon,” he says to her, “ ‘m gonna give you a ride home.”

she was confident she would be able to get home safely by herself, as she had done many times before that. that being said, she wasn’t necessarily eager to turn down a ride and endure a long, anxiety-filled walk home. so she follows after carmy, lightly smiling to herself. he manually unlocks the older car, climbing in and opening the passenger door from the inside. she says a soft thanks as she gets in the car, closing the door behind her. she looks around, as carmen starts the car with a rumble, at the various items scattered in the confined space. the interior smells like cigarettes and dark roast.

“uh, sorry for the mess,” he apologizes. she wasn’t really focused on the mess- empty coffee cups and papers scattered about- just how her heart continued to inexplicably pound against her ribs. she offers him a small smile, “i don’t mind.”

carmy shifts the gear into drive, and she points with her finger, listing off a few directions, to which he nods. it’s a fairly quiet drive before he lightly clears his throat and glances at the passenger.

“i, uh… i didn’t know you were walking home every night,” he breaks the silence.

“yeah, it… can get sketchy sometimes. but it’s really not that bad,” she replies. he looks over with a concerned expression on his face. a beat of silence.

“i’m gonna drive you home from now on,” he tells the girl.

she glances at him with confusion on her face, “huh? carmy, you really don’t have to. i don’t wanna put you out.”

his jaw tightens a bit, “i don’t want you walking home alone when it’s dark,” he solidifies. a moment of quiet falls before he decides to add, “you’re not puttin’ me out, either.” she goes quiet at this, heart relentlessly beating in her ears at the gesture. they go silent for a moment, stopped at an empty red light, waiting for it to change.

“carm?” she asks. he turns to meet her eyes, face cast in an orange hue from the glow of traffic light. she continues, now under the pressure of his gaze, “is-…does earlier- i mean,” she lets out a breath, “in the office, does it…count?” she stammers out, avoiding his eyes. he fights a smirk, as he so often does with her, eyes shifting back to the road, light now green.

“count? you mean, as a punishment?” he asks, “for being bratty, when i gave you orders?” there’s the slightest edge in his tone, a gruffness to it that reignites the ache in her core and makes her face feel incredibly hot. she slowly nods, eyes daring to creep up onto the man’s side face, admiring the curvature of his nose, his lips, jaw, neck, chest— ignoring the growing urge to grab his face to smash her lips against his, or even devour him completely.

“what do you think?” carmen asks, quickly glancing at her up and down, “you learn your lesson?”

she bites down on her lip, hard; a dull pulse in her lower regions, clenching around nothing. she had never come across anyone who had such an effect on her with just simple words, the combination of his demeanor and voice making her head spin with infatuation and an arising goal to get back on her knees in front of him tonight.

“what lesson?” she challenges with, a smile ghosting the edges of her lips. he wanted so badly to pull the car off to the side of the road, drag her to the backseat, fuck her into submission, his head swimming with lust.

“guess not,” comes his reply, low in tone.

she presses her thighs together, focusing on the remaining road in front of them as they approach her street. the car slows to a stop outside her apartment unit, engine idling as she unbuckles her seatbelt. she mentally encourages herself to be bold— turning to face the driver, sitting up and pushing her chest out a bit, allowing her growing lust to give her confidence and take a chance. she pushes a piece of hair behind her ear, “do you…want to come inside?” their locking eyes increasing the fire between them.

his automatic instinct, entranced by her, is to say yes, follow her upstairs, and blow off some steam (which god knows he needed). but he falters, deliberating their relationship and the complexities that would arise as they continued to spend time together and grow closer. the two’s relationship was anything but appropriate, given their circumstances, and carmen knew this. he feared the possibility of stepping into an apartment that smells completely of her, that emanates her essence, and would subsequently be unable to leave, completely wrapped around her finger. he opens his mouth to answer her, but the pause she receives from him was enough to signify an answer, and she drops her eyes to the ground, grabbing her bag and opening the car door.

“nevermind,” she get out of the car, ears feeling hot, “thank you for the ride, really,” she reiterates, now standing on the asphalt outside her complex. she moves to close the door, and he says her name.

“- hey, wait a second.”

she pauses, locking eyes with him as her face heats up, eager to make her exit after the sting of rejection. he looks away, then back at the girl, bringing a hand from the steering wheel to rub his chin.

“why don’t you come over to mine tomorrow night, after we close?” he asks. she looks away from his unwavering gaze, crossing her arms. she felt a small jump in her chest at the thought of going to his place for the first time, but decides to even the playing field slightly. she pretends to deliberate the invitation a bit, knowing full well where she would be the following night.

“you only scheduled me until 7,” she reminds him.

“i’ll pick you up,” he offers, “on my way home.”

she lets a small smile grace her face, uncrossing her arms.

“okay,” she responds.

“okay,” he says back, “good.”

she adjusts her top, slightly pulling it upwards and revealing to him more of her rib cage, teasing the threshold of the soft skin under her breast. he briefly questions if his decision of staying in his car is the wrong one.

“goodnight carmy,” she chimes

“yeah, ‘night,” he tells her before watching the car door slam shut. his eyes follow her, car idling, as she walks across the pavement and up the stairs to her complex. she fumbles with the key a bit, and opens the front door, turning back and giving carmen a small wave. he puts his hand up, returning the gesture, and watching as she safely gets into her apartment for the night. once the door closes he lets out a breath, shifting the car back into drive, and continuing home, alone.

once in his apartment, sliding his shoes off and throwing his keys on the table, he collapses on the couch and runs his hand over his forehead, rubbing his face. he closes his eyes, leaning his head back and taking a moment to breathe. his days at the restaurant felt longer than ever, as now the cherished times where could talk to the girl one on one usually only came while they weren’t working. he brings his hand to the dip of his neck, squeezing the tight muscles as he tilts his head to the side for more access. he thinks more about the girl— the stretch of fabric around her body, what color was it? he sighs, recalling nothing but the way the chill wind outside of his car raised the thin fabric. he lets go of his neck and drops his hand to his lap. her flushed face flashes in his mind, her heavy breaths, reminiscing of the way her body quivered under his delicate touches. he feels a twitch under his palm, entrapped by jeans and a zipper. breathing deeply, he slowly runs his hand over the length of his clothed member, stiffening quickly. he could physically feel the pent up sexual tension within his body, hips rutting up against his hand. without further thought carmy unbuttons his pants and shoves his underwear down far enough to comfortably remove his hardening cock from confinement. he’s immediately reminded of her earlier attempts to take care of his needs, doe eyes gazing up at him obediently. he lifts his shirt over his stomach, wrapping his fist around his length and squeezing slightly, clear precum beading at the head. as he slowly begins to pump his hand, he throws his head back closing his eyes, letting out a quiet but guttural “fuuck..”

behind his closed eyelids all he can think of is her. hair falling over glowing shoulders, shapely ass confined by tight jeans, the smell of her coconut perfume as he would pass her closely by. his pace picks up as he remembers the feeling of her breasts, skin soft and delicate under his calloused hands, aching for more of her to be touched by him. he feels a knot form deep within his stomach, amplified by the quickening strokes that can hardly keep up with his imagination. straightening his posture and shoving his pants down further, he imagines what it would be like to fuck her, the opportunity not yet having graced him. he figures she would be just as responsive as earlier, if not more when he’s burried deep inside of her. he gets more and more riled up at the thought of claiming her completely, making her dependent on his cock, his face flushed and hips snapping upwards to meet his hand. he can hear her voice in his head, smell her skin, and it’s all too overwhelming. with a stutter of his hips and a few more pumps, carmen cums, letting out a strangled moan and shooting out thick white ropes onto his stomach, eyes tightly shut. he folds forward slightly, breathing ragged, agonizingly thrusting his slick cock into his hand to ride out his orgasm, muscles contracting. he tingles from oversensitivity, falling backwards against the couch and catching his breath. he feels a small pang of shame, having just masturbated to the thought of one of his employees, it becoming impossible to even refer to her as only that. he groans at the mess, stripping his white shirt to clean the cum off of his abdomen, then standing to discard his pants and underwear completely. he tosses the pile of clothes into the hamper in his bedroom, walking to the bathroom and turning on the shower, not bothering for the water to heat up before he steps in and allows the water to engulf him.

it was never supposed to go this far— and the extent to which carmy found himself yearning to see her the next morning at the restaurant was off putting to no end, trying to convince himself that these feelings must be the novelty of the two’s newfound “friends with benefits” relationship. he reassures himself, anticipating the feelings to diminish over time as the thrill wears off, and the both of them get what they’re looking for, which was some simple fun. a functional relationship was next to impossible for his lifestyle, he reminds himself for the umpeenth time.

he still remained in control, he told himself, he just wanted to taste her before ending things, feel himself inside her.

it was never supposed to go this far— but he just wanted a little bit more.

—

thank you so much for reading! pls let me know what you think! <33

part 2 - safe in your skin

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

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yellowharrington · 20 days

Text

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

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

word count: 3k

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

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

divider by @cafekitsune

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re checking in?”

“Happy Anniversary.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

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

“Good girl. Sit up, all fours.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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carmyboobear · 1 month

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Blood Orange (Ch 1: The Walk-In)

Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

Rating: E (7.3k words)

links: fic playlist, pinterest board, ao3 link

Summary: Losing your job is the worst thing to ever happen to you. Getting hired by Carmen Berzatto is a close second. You tell yourself that The Beef is only temporary, that it's just a replacement until you find something better. It doesn't work. You've stopped listening. You've had a taste of Carmy, and now you don't think you're ever gonna be able to let go. No matter how bad it gets.

Content Tags: secret workplace relationship/sex, friends/coworkers with benefits, they/them afab reader, miscommunication, mental illness (carmy and reader), dom/sub dynamics, dom carmy (for now), enemies to friends to lovers (eventually), unhealthy coping mechanisms, dysfunctional relationship

A/N: It's finally here! New series! We even get sex in the first chapter! In my other fic, I'm taking care of Carmy. In this one, I'm making him worse. Of course, here's a disclaimer that I DON’T condone or intend to glorify any of this behavior. It's just compelling to write. Enjoy!

You return to The Beef for the first time in years when you're at your lowest.

The only upside to this abysmal situation is that the job was shitty. The job you just got laid off from, to be exact. Retail was never your passion, and there's a certain relief in knowing you don't have to go back to that windowless place. You didn't play an important role in the ecosystem, but it played a pretty crucial role in yours. It kept a roof over your head.

You're sure you could’ve sued them in some fashion for letting you go without any warning, any parachute, but you didn't have the luxury of time. You needed to figure out how you were going to pay rent, and fast.

After the rage boiled over (not to say that it's resolved, the residual anger's leveled into an even simmer), you pulled your hair back, found your cleanest, nicest outfit, and started your job search. With your updated resume in hand and scuffed sneakers on your feet, you've trekked all over Chicago looking for a new job. You weren't optimistic, nor were you hopeful.

You suppose the only word you could use to describe yourself was desperate, and it was a matter of finding someone that was just as desperate, if not more desperate than you. To put it politely, the odds of that were low. Very low.

You got laid off that very morning. The rest of your afternoon has been spent walking from door to door to every establishment you could spot. By some cruel twist of fate, none of them were hiring. The ones that were hiring looked unenthusiastic, even adverse to taking your resume.

“When would you be able to start?” Some of the workers asked.

“Tomorrow,” was your desperately honest answer.

“If all goes well, you'll hear from us in a week,” was their response. The unspoken was, of course, the fact that radio silence was more likely than an email or phone call. Places didn't even send rejection letters anymore.

“Thanks for your time,” you'd say, bringing out a bright smile from a complete lack of reserves, and as soon as you turned around, your face would drop.

Your hopes were low, nearly non-existent, but damn. Damn. It wasn't looking good for you.

That's why you enter The Beef. You vaguely remember visiting this place a couple years ago, back when you first moved to Chicago. The owner was…pretty nice, actually. You don't remember his name, but you remember having a pleasant conversation with him. Of course, there's nothing you can do if he doesn't have a job opening, but it wouldn't be bad to see a friendly face. Even if that face is from someone who's basically a stranger.

The doorbell rings when you enter. It catches the attention of the man standing behind the counter, and with how his head jolts up, you'd think the bell functioned as an alarm instead.

“Welcome,” he says. Your first impression, other than the fact that he seems very, very, tired, is that he's irritatingly attractive. If anything, the eyebags and the greased back waves only add to whatever the hell he's got going on.

“Hi. Um…” You're briefly caught off guard by his biceps, but you catch yourself. “I was actually wondering if you guys were hiring.”

“We are,” he replies, and it's the best thing you've heard all day. He lights up like the spark of a lighter, bright and instantaneous. It doesn't shake the pervasive exhaustion that radiates off him, though.

“Thank god,” you mutter, and you want to take it back (it's far too casual), but he cracks an amused smile that makes you want to dissolve like a pinch of salt in a sea of sauce. “Sorry. Do you mind if I talk to the owner? We met a while ago, and—”

“I'm the owner,” he interrupts, and any other words you had planned fall away.

“Sorry?” You repeat. “I swear it was this guy—he had short dark hair, I think—”

“Yeah, he left the place to me. Didn't want it anymore, so.” He shrugs. The light you just saw from him has fizzled away like the end of a sparkler, short-lived and ultimately disappointing.

“Oh. Got it. Uh…” To your credit, you don't fumble for too long. You have a lot of questions, but you've got more pressing issues. You pluck out a resume from a file folder. “Here's my resume, then.”

He takes it from you, flips it to face him. He's quiet as his eyes lower down the page, and you wonder if it's going to be a guillotine or a pot of gold at the end of this. The only sounds in the entrance are the passing cars outside, the rickety air conditioning, and muffled chatter from the back.

“You worked as a prep cook.” He says it like a fact, but you know it's a question.

“Yeah, nothing fancy. Just at some chain restaurants.”

“Right. I see you worked as a line cook at another location. Which one did you prefer?”

“Uh…” They both came with their separate pains. Your honest answer is that being a line cook was one of the most stressful experiences of your life, but if he has a position open as a line cook, you don't want to fuck it up. “They were both fine. I think I was a little better as a prep cook, but I didn't mind either.”

He hums, satisfied by your answer. At least it’s only half of a lie.

“How do you work under pressure?”

“Good,” you answer quickly. “Well enough.”

“Willing to learn?”

“Obviously. I mean…” You think you see a flash of a smile, but you're unsure. “Yeah.”

“When'd you be able to start?” You're surprised he's already asking this.

“Tomorrow,” you say, just like you’ve been, and his reaction is different from the others. He nods. He doesn't smile, not like he did earlier, but you can tell this is a good sign.

Before he can get a word out, there's a sharp, metallic explosion of noises that resounds from the direction of the kitchen.

“Uh,” he starts, eyebrows pinched in irritation, the voices come in.

“I told you, you have to say behind!” A woman's voice. She sounds young, but there's no real way to be sure of that.

“How the hell did you not hear me coming?” A Chicago accent, male. Older, maybe. “I was in the middle of having a conversation with Tina—”

“Great, I'm so happy for you, I don't give a shit, now this has all went to waste—”

“Well, who's fault is that?”

“Who's fault is that? You did not just—”

“Guys!” The man you've been talking to gives you an apologetic glance before walking to the back, pushing through the folding doors. You catch a glimpse of the two people arguing on the other side before it shuts. “I'm tryin’ to talk to a new hire here. We can't be like this right now. Not ever, but especially right now.”

Finally, the first sane person I've met all day, you think.

“Carmy, talk some sense into her,” the older guy shouts, and it gives you a name to the face. “All of this on the floor—”

“You didn't say behind,” the woman repeats, except with more fury in it this time.

“You didn't say behind,” he imitates back. “Carmy—”

“She’s right. Richie, step out,” Carmy says. “Syd, you clean this up.”

“But—” You hear her start to protest.

“You spilled it, you clean it,” he cuts through, decisive and firm.

“I know, but Richie—”

“Clean it,” he repeats, firmer, darker this time, and there's a beat of silence.

“...Yes, chef.”

“I told you to step out,” Carmy tells who you assume is Richie.

“You're just gonna let her—”

“Step the fuck outside right fucking now!” Carmy screams, his patience shooting away like a gunshot. You feel something shrivel inside you, and not in a good way. “Do the one fucking thing you're good at and get out of the fucking way!”

Yeah…definitely not in a good way.

From what you hear, it sounds like Richie has to get wrestled outside by someone, whom you're not sure. After another minute, Carmy returns to the front.

“I'm sorry about that. Fucking—” He drags a hand across his face. You swear his eyebags have grown heavier in the 5 minutes he was in the kitchen. “What was I saying?”

“Um, I was saying that I could start tomorrow,” you remind him, although the vigor you had just stated it with is a bit fizzled out.

“Right. Okay. Uh—” He pats his hands on his apron, searching for something. A pen and paper appear in his hands, and he scribbles something on it. This is when you notice his tattoos. A flower on the back of his hand. Surprising. “You're hired. Here's the paperwork you need to fill out, along with the number and email you'll be hearing from me at.”

“What?” You take the sheets, but the smooth paper doesn't feel real in your hands. His handwriting is hasty and dark, like he was running out of time on a test. “I mean, I'm just surprised.”

“Do you not want it?”

“I want it,” you promise, and you feel your cheeks flush. This is a bad time to yet again notice how attractive he is. His pretty eyes, his nose. The little moles under his left eye. “Y-Yeah, I want the job.”

“Good.” He motions towards the sticky note again. “Come in at 8 am tomorrow. You'll be starting as a prep cook, which you've done before.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, I'll be there.” The reality is setting in now, and an odd cocktail of relief, apprehension, and excitement is settling in your stomach. “Thank you so much.” I just got laid off from my job this morning, so this means a lot, you want to say, but it's too soon. You don't want to say anything that'll make him change his mind about whatever he sees in you.

“Thank you,” he echoes back. “We need the help. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” you reply, and with that, the door rings behind you. A customer comes up to the counter, peering up at the menu. You figure this is your cue to leave. He's not looking at you anymore anyway.

So, I got a job now, you update your friends, texting them on your way home on the metro. As the relieved congratulations come flying in, another remark seems to resound amongst all of them.

I can't believe you got the job just like that. That place must be desperate, too, is roughly what they've all said. The thing is, they're not wrong.

You managed to find someone more desperate than you in the job economy. Just one, but that was enough. It makes you think, though. You think about Carmy's weary blue eyes, his brief smile, and his hand tattoos. You wonder if it's just the restaurant that gives him that bone-deep exhaustion, or if it's a smaller part of a bigger picture.

You think about it for the rest of your commute, you think about it as you smoke on the porch, you think about it as you lay in bed. You think about it as you fill out the paperwork, fingers tracing where Carmy's written his name, number, and email.

Carmen Berzatto

773-555-0901

So Carmy's a nickname, you think. Not about what type of boss he's going to be, not about what it's going to be like working under someone you are obviously attracted to.

Maybe you should be more worried about this.

If it's bad, I'll just find another job, you tell yourself, and you foolishly believe it.

. . . . .

Your first day on the job starts with introductions.

At least, that's about as much as you've figured out so far. When he sees you upon arrival, he pauses and stares at you like he's forgotten. Not a great start. Granted, he does snap out of it. That's when he tells you to follow him, which is where you currently find yourself. You're not sure where he's leading to, only that he's introducing you to others as you pass them by.

“They’re working with us starting today,” Carmy tells everyone. “They’re gonna be on prep.”

Right. So that's what you'll be doing. At least he told you that much yesterday.

The catalog of coworkers expands exponentially. You remember Sydney from yesterday, and to her credit, she apologizes about having you witness her fight with Richie, who conveniently isn't here yet. She seems the nicest out of all the bunch, so you decide to let it slide.

Marcus is pretty nice, too. So are Ebra, Sweeps, Manny, Angel—everyone seems to be pretty alright. It’s obvious they’re standoffish by you being in their space. You find it hard to hold it against them. You’re not really sure how your relationships with them are going to pan out. There are only three that you’re particularly unsure on.

The first and obvious one is Richie. He came in eventually and didn’t give you the best impression, immediately talking over everyone and oozing arrogance. The only salvageable thing is that he’s not even a chef. At least you won’t have to be in the kitchen with him much. You want to avoid the honor of talking to him as much as possible.

Tina is next. She clearly doesn’t enjoy having someone new in the ecosystem, and she’s spent more time ignoring you than talking with you. As you understand it, she’s close to the rest of the staff since they’ve all been together for a while. Minus you and Syd, as you learn she’s only been there for a week. You think Tina will warm up to you…eventually.

Carmy is the last one, and he’s…he’s…

He’s something else.

He has you doing prep for most of the day. After introducing you to everyone and giving you a brief tour, he brings you to your station, scratched up stainless steel.

“You’re going to be cutting onions and carrots today for the stock. The vegetables are in the walk-in I showed you earlier, and when it’s done, it goes on the first shelf.” Carmy’s to your right, set up at his own station. You swear you keep your eyes focused on the vegetables, not his biceps in that shirt, but… “You should already know this, but label everything. I don’t want to see anything without a date. Got it?”

“Yes, chef,” you confirm, snapping out of it. He’s been flinging new information at you like it’s a war and he’s gunning to survive. But so are you. “I’ll do my best.”

“I expect as such.” He slides over a peeler for the carrots and some plastic bins for trash. “It’s just a stock, so don’t worry about an even cut. Just salvage whatever you can, cut off anything that doesn’t look good.” You nod. “Been a year or so since you did this, right?”

“Yeah. I cook regularly, but I’ll need to get back into the groove of things. And I will,” you add hastily. “I’ll combine them into this one when I'm done, right?” You ask, nudging a large plastic container.

“Correct.” A brief smile flashes across his face. “You're already following quicker than I thought you would.” You’re not sure if he means it as an insult or a compliment, so you decide to take it as the latter.

“I haven't even chopped anything yet.”

“I know.” His expression is flat again. You resist a laugh. He plucks an onion from the bin, puts it in front of you. “Show me a rough dice.”

The knife is sharp. You notice this as you place careful cuts into the onion. It's not quite as sharp as his unnerving gaze, which layers pressure upon pressure. It builds up like a pastry puff, thin multitudes of layers expanding upward. You need to be good. You need to be perfect. You don't want to disappoint him, not this early, even though you've barely been here for an hour.

It's just a shitty old sandwich shop, you tell yourself, but your dicing is uneven and you briefly think about accidentally chopping your fingers off.

“Not my best work,” you admit, vaguely breathless. Carmy hasn't said anything yet.

“It'll do.” You're waiting for him to say something else, give you some tips, but he doesn't. Irritation prickles to the tips of your fingers. “I'll be back to check in on you later.”

You stand there, motionless and shocked in the aftermath. You're not sure what you expected from today, but being abandoned an hour in was not at the top of your bucket list.

Man, what the fuck, you think, the thought clear in the silence around you, and that's the last time you can hear yourself think for the rest of the shift.

There's a prepared stock from yesterday simmering on the stove behind you. It's flanked by boiling potatoes and reducing tomato sauce. The heat from it’s searing your back like a steak, slowly drawing lines of moisture all over the surface of your shirt. Your coworkers constantly invade your space to check on them. You suppose it's not their fault that the kitchen, but it's still irritating. They're also all shouting over each other like it's a competition.

“Who the fuck touched my stock—”

“No one touched your stupid shitty stock—”

“I am trying to find this cutting board, will someone please—”

You move on from the onions with only a thin layer of sweat collected at your hairline.

Your hands are shaky as they peel the carrots. You know you're not getting as efficient of a shave as you could be, but the caffeine crash from your morning coffee is getting to you. You don't remember the last time you drank water. A cigarette sounds nice.

“Clean your station, chef.” Carmy materializes next to you. You hear him before you see his hands scooping carrot shavings into a plastic container. It shocks you so much that you almost cut yourself.

“Sorry, chef,” you reply reflexively. You look down at your station, straightening your tools. You want to ask if you can take your break, but you don't want to look any weaker than you do already. “So, uh, do we get 30's here?”

When you don't get a response, your head snaps up, irritation on the tip of your tongue, but he's not even there.

Fucking hell, you think, annoyance simmering into something akin to anger, and you go back to finishing your prep.

You don't see him for another hour after that. It's not even him that tells you to take your 15, it's Syd, who noticed you were half-way through your shift and on the verge of…something.

“You finished the prep he gave you, right?” Syd had asked. You told her you finished and put it back in the walk-in. “Yeah, then go take your break. Did he not tell you we get 15's here?”

“He didn't,” you say, too annoyed to bother hiding the disdain in your face. Sydney just sighs, rolling her eyes, and you think you love her.

“Asshole.” She makes a shooing motion at you then. “Go, get a break from this madness. It'll get better, I promise.”

You're not sure if you believe her, but you do step outside to take your break.

As you stand outside in the back, you take note of tightness in your body that you weren't even aware of. The cigarette smoke calms you, loosens you. Or maybe you owe that to getting out of that hot kitchen.

This time, you see Carmy before you hear him. You turn to the door to see him stepping out, a pack of smokes in his hand.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you reply.

“Everythin’ goin’ okay so far?”

“Yeah. It's fine.” Other than everything.

“Really?” His surprise just pisses you off further. “Well, that's good.”

“...Yeah.” You decide if your mouth stays unoccupied, you'll start cussing him out, so you put your cigarette back in your mouth.

“You're bleeding.”

“What?”

“I said, you're bleeding. Your hand.”

You look down at your hand holding the cigarette, and sure enough, there's a thin, shallow cut oozing blood near one of your knuckles.

“Shit,” you mutter, quickly sucking the skin into your mouth. When you pull it back, the red refills. “I didn't even notice.”

“Let's get a bandaid on that.” He puts his unlit cigarette back into his pack. “I have some in my office.”

That's how you end up in the enclosed, dark space of his office, seated on the only chair as he leans back against his cluttered desk. The dingy first-aid kit is propped on top of a shaky stack of papers. Carmy takes out a bandaid from it and peels it open.

“Thought I gave you a sharp knife, it shouldn't have cut you like that,” Carmy comments.

“It was sharp,” you correct. “Guess I just fucked up.”

“It happens,” he says, which surprises you. He keeps surprising you. You just can't seem to figure him out. “Let me see the cut.”

You only realize that he's putting the bandaid on you when he cradles your hand in his. His hands are warm.

He has so many hand tattoos. You notice the letters on his fingers first, the SOU curled around your palm. You notice the other tattoo on the back of his hand next, since that's the one carefully placing the bandaid on you.

He wraps it around your finger just right. Not too tight, not too loose.

“Is that too tight?” He asks, almost in a whisper. He's so close, and he smells like kitchen oil, cigarette smoke, and a faded cologne you can't place.

“No, it's okay.” You don't mean to talk so quietly back, but you do. You can't stop staring at his fingers. They're long and marked up with silver scars and burns. If you look carefully, you can place the locations of his callouses.

“Good.” You don’t know why he does it, but he runs his thumb across the seams of where your bandaid overlaps. Surely it’s just to secure it further…surely.

“Thank you.” He’s still holding your hand. You’re unsure if you’re imagining the tension in the air or not. Everything feels more intimate behind closed doors, especially in low light. “I could’ve done it myself.”

“It’s easier if another person does it.” He lets go, finally, and you try not to mourn the loss. “Did you finish prepping for the stock?”

“What you gave me, yeah.”

“Alright. Let’s go take a look at it, then,” he says, like that isn’t the most anxiety inducing thing you’ve ever heard.

“R-Right now?”

“As opposed to?” He opens the door to his office, and the muffled noises in the kitchen become sharp and clear again, like emerging from underwater. “Come on.”

You don’t know how it happens, but Carmy gets into five separate arguments on the way to the walk-in. FIVE. To be fair, two of them are from Richie.

“I’ve been telling you guys to sharpen your knives, don’t fucking treat them like this,” Carmy shouts, trudging over to someone’s station. “You see this? This is exactly what we should not be doing! How many times have I said this today?! Don’t—“

“Stop going into my office when I’m not there,” Carmy hisses at Richie next. “You keep fucking up where the papers are put, and I can’t find anything! It’s enough of a mess as it is! No—I said—cousin, listen to me—“

“Everyone shut the hell up, clean your stations, and get the fuck back to work!” Is the last thing he shouts before slamming the door to the walk-in behind you. He slams it so hard the wire racks rattle. You decide not to comment.

The difference in sound is eerie. You’re always surprised by how sound proof these walk-in fridges are.

“Is this the prep you did today?” Carmy asks, touching one of the clear plastic bins. Sure enough, it’s the one you placed there a moment ago.

“Yeah, it is.” You chew the inside of your cheek. You were hoping he would be in an okay mood when he checked your work. It seemed like he was at first, but now?

“It's on the wrong shelf.”

“What?” You stare at it sitting on the first shelf, just like he told you to. “You told me to put it on the first shelf.”

“It goes on the second shelf.” He's pissed, and there's ice in your veins. He huffs as he takes the container and moves it one shelf up, slamming it down unnecessarily. “I told you—second shelf.”

“You literally said it went on the first shelf.” The ice has melted, and it's boiling.

“No, I didn't.” You wanna punch him. Badly. You know what you heard. “And you forgot to label it.”

“Shit.” That, you did forget. You’re not above owning up to your mistakes, unlike him. “I'm sorry, I was—”

“We always need stuff like this to be labeled,” he interrupts, rude and abrupt. You can hear the thinly veiled anger in his voice. “I told you.”

“I know, I just—“

“Don’t make excuses. Just do better.”

“It’s my first fucking day!” You snap, finally, and it’s like a firecracker in the dead of night. “I don’t expect to be coddled, but I’ve only been here for a couple hours, and you’re just—“

“I told you to put a label on it, to put it on the second shelf, and you didn’t do either of those things.” This is a different type of anger. It’s quiet, contained. Dangerous. And with your outburst, it’s trembling at the edges.

“You literally hired me yesterday!” You’re exasperated. “You looked at my resume for like two seconds before hiring me, and you’re mad that I’m messing up?”

“You had enough credentials on your resume. You told me you could work well under pressure and learn quickly. Is that true or not?”

“It is true! You just have to give me a chance first!”

“I just gave you a chance,” Carmy snaps back, “and you fucked it up.”

“Oh my god. I just—“ You take a step back. “I don’t have to take this shit.”

“Are you quitting already?”

“I wasn’t going to.” You move towards the door. “But maybe I should, before you fire me. Doesn't seem like you want me, anyway.”

You were planning on exiting the walk-in after that, to leave on cue, but the door doesn’t budge. You and Carmy notice it at the same time.

Suddenly, there is a new problem.

“Fuck,” Carmy curses under his breath. The two of you are pushing against the door, but it won’t budge. He slams his fist on it and calls out. “Guys, the walk-in door is stuck! Can any of you open it from out there?”

“Carmen?” Richie's voice is muffled from the other end. There's the sound of frustrated efforts on the other end. “It's not fuckin’ budging!”

“Fuck,” Carmy repeats, seething, and you agree. “Call Fak!”

“I already did! He’s gonna be here in 20!”

“20 minutes?!” Carmy shouts. You close your eyes and sigh, audibly. “Don't we have a screwdriver in here or something?! Just take the hinges off!”

“Why do you think I called Fak?! Shut the hell up and be patient!”

“Tell him to hurry the fuck up,” Carmy barks, and that's where their conversation ends.

“Just what I needed right now,” you mutter under your breath. Carmy's not looking at you, eyes boring into the door that's trapping the both of you in here with each other. “To be locked in a room with you.”

It's quiet for a minute before he speaks, cutting the silence open.

“...I do want you, y'know.”

“You—huh?” He said it so quietly you're not sure if it was a hallucination.

“We need you here.” He's still not looking at you. “This place—it's fucked. We don't have enough hands.”

“I can tell,” you say, and you mean for it to come out bitter, but it's soft. Naively so.

“I want you here. I do.” He doesn't need to say it like that. You don't want to believe it, neither his words or the way hearing it makes you feel. “I need you.”

“Can you at least look at me when you say it?”

You’re not sure why you say it. You instantly recognize it for how needy it sounds, but you don't get the luxury of embarrassment. Carmy's already turning to face you.

“I want you,” he repeats, voice low. You think about the paint you'd need to mix to match the color of his eyes. Blue, white, and the slightest bit of orange to desaturate it. You're not sure what type of orange, though. “I need you.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, despite yourself, and it's too late.

“Are you gonna do better?” You didn't even register him moving closer to you. When did your back end up against the shelves?

“I’m gonna do better,” you whisper, “if you stop being such an asshole.”

“It won't happen again,” he whispers back, and you recognize it for the lie that it is.

You don't really care, though.

His face is so close to yours that you can see the separate specks of colors in his iris. You watch his gaze fall from your eyes to your lips, and it lingers there before rising again. Any shreds of self respect or control you were clinging onto disintegrate. It doesn't matter if he really means what it says. All that matters is getting your mouth on his.

“Okay,” you say, a whisper of foolish acceptance, and you're kissing him.

Or is he kissing you? You don't know who leaned forward first. It's not important.

“I saw you staring at my hands today,” Carmy says against your lips. Spit makes your mouths slide easily against each other. “Yesterday, too.”

“What the—no you didn't,” you gasp, appalled, heat rising in your face, “how did you—?”

“You're right. I didn't,” he admits with a cheeky grin. You’re really gonna punch him now.

“God, you're just,” you mutter, “you're such an asshole.”

“I know.” At first, you think he's being smug, but there's a surprising sense of remorse under it. You don't have time to think about it, though, not when his hand is cradling your face. There's no way he doesn't feel how hot your face is.

“What're you…?” His thumb passes over your lower lip, and the words fall away.

“Tell me you want this.” Your eyes flicker to his hand, then to his face. His other hand is at the top of your jeans, fingers resting on the edge of your waistband. Excited arousal hits your gut, sizzling like browning butter, warm and toasted. His eyes are dark, caramel on the verge of burning. “If you don't, I'll pretend like this never happened. I'll never touch you again.”

I'll never touch you again, he says, like it's not the last thing you'll ever want.

“I want this,” you murmur. “Touch me. Please.”

“Good,” Carmy praises, one quiet word enough to sear your insides with heat, blue flame on the underside of a pan. “That's what I thought.”

His hands slip behind you to untie your apron. The strings fall to your sides, and you tug it hastily up and over your head. It falls to the floor next to you. Surely that's a gigantic health hazard, but Carmy's the one who throws it there, so you don't say anything. You lower your gaze to his fingers unbuttoning your pants. The sight of it makes you woozy. You take note of his other tattoos, noticing the letters on his fingers. You watch as the stabbed hand made of ink on his right disappears under the cloth of your underwear.

“Oh,” you breathe. You didn't expect his hand to be so warm, even though you had just felt his heated palm gentle on your cheek.

“You're wet.” The tip of his index finger dips into where your hot folds separate. It strokes at the fluid that's pooled at your entrance, coaxing it out. “When did this happen?”

“Fuck you is when,” you bite back, but it's all bark. “I don't know.”

“Sure,” he agrees, but not really. His condescending smile shouldn't be hot, it really shouldn't, but your pussy throbs against his hand, and he smiles knowingly. “All you need is me to talk and you get wet, is that it?”

“I—” His finger rises upward, splitting you open and flicking at your clit. You buck against his hand. “Don't ask me a question and then touch me like that,” you hiss, horribly turned on.

“Mm, sorry.” It's barely an apology. You throw your head back in frustration. “I didn't mean to.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” you pant. He's pushed your slick up your pussy to your clit, two slick fingers sliding back and forth on your stiff nub. The pads of his calloused fingers are rubbing you almost where you're too sensitive.

“Then don't. I don't care what you think of me.” You think he's about to get his fingers inside of you, and your breath hitches, but he pulls back. You regret the frustrated whine that is just audible enough in the back of your throat. He does it again, just barely pushing the tips of fingers in before pulling away.

“You—why—do you want me to beg or something?” Your clenched hands raise by your sides to grip the collar of his white shirt and yank him forward. The shock that flashes across his face gives you a sick sense of satisfaction.

“It wouldn't hurt,” he mumbles. Seeing him stagger like this, even if briefly, sends a rush through your head.

“Is that what it's gonna take for you to get those fucking fingers inside me?”

Like a coward, instead of answering, he leans an inch forward and kisses you. Or maybe that was his answer. That's when he sinks two fingers inside you, long and thick, pushing until your wet pussy's pressed tight against his palm.

You moan, a pathetic thing, and Carmy swallows the sound of it.

“You're already begging,” he says quietly. He pulls his fingers out. You whine in protest, desperate and angry pleas on the tip of your tongue, but then he's pushing inside again.

That's the last moment of reprieve you get. His fingers start thrusting into you faster, dragging out slick each time he pulls them out. Paranoia suddenly screams that you’re gonna wet the front of your pants at this rate. The aching pleasure is louder than your fear, though. You can’t help the way his fingers are making you moan.

“More,” you plead, “give me another, I can take it.” Your hips are thrusting forward to meet his hand when they push inside. Your clit slaps against the heel of his palm, and you chase the friction. He must notice, because when he obliges and stretches you out with a third finger, he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit.

“You have to be quiet,” he says lowly when you keep moaning. “They’re gonna hear you.”

“I—I’m trying,” you whine. You’re squeezing so tight down on him. You feel so full. “Your fingers—“

“You’re the one who asked for more.” He slaps his other hands firmly over your mouth. It silences your sound of surprise. “You said you could take it, so here’s what’s gonna happen.” His fingers are slamming into your now, and your hole spasms around them in pleasure. “You’re gonna come on my fingers, and you’re gonna be quiet. Understand?”

You know how soundproof the walk-in is. You had just witnessed it moments ago. But Carmy’s warnings do something fierce to you, bypassing logic straight into anxious, desperate arousal. He’s right, you think. You need to be quiet. You nod quickly in response, so he takes your consent and sprints with it.

To your credit, you try to be quiet. You said you would. But there’s only so much you can do when he’s fingering you so hard your legs are shaking. You’re whimpering into his hand, the sounds muffled. Your own moans, his heavy breathing, and the slick sound of your pussy getting railed by his fingers—that’s what you listen to as you come.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing down tight,” Carmy hisses, and for an irrational second you’re afraid you’re hurting him, but one look at his starved expression changes your mind. His three wide fingers are fucking you slowly through your wildly contracting orgasm. In one of his palms, you're oozing slick, and in his other palm, you're smearing with spit.

You should be thinking about how bad of an idea this all is, having sex with your boss. It’s too bad your orgasm is so potent you can’t think at all.

You lean your head back against the cold metal railings of the wire racks behind you. It’s uncomfortable, but a part of it feels good against the coiling heat that’s unraveling in your stomach. The air around you is cold, but you’re hot, far too hot. You don’t remember the last time you’ve finished this hard.

He finally pries his hand off your mouth once you've stopped clamping down on his fingers. His hand lingers at your face before wiping it on the side of his jeans. His expression has this unreadable, unnamed intensity to it, and you can't tell where that ends and where the hunger starts. Although he is looking very, very starved.

His hand that's tucked into your underwear tugs it upward as it leaves, pulling the fabric taut against your pussy. It sticks like paper mache with the glue of your orgasm, molded to your shape. You make an aroused noise that's a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

You're about to complain, something along the lines of “was that really necessary”, but then your eyes are zeroed in on the sheen of his fingers that were fucking you.

“Don't,” you start, suddenly worried he's going to wipe them on his jeans again, but you don't get to finish. He's pushing his index finger into your mouth, and you taste yourself on his skin.

“Good,” Carmy whispers when he feels your tongue wrapping around him. Fuck, hearing him say it like that does awful things to you.

You don't know why you accept it without a fight, but if you're being honest with yourself, this is exactly what you wanted. You start to suck, but he doesn't linger. When he pulls his finger out, your parted lips expect the other two, but he sucks them into his mouth instead.

God. What do you even say to that? He even has the nerve to look you in the eyes as he pops his cleaned fingers out of his mouth.

“Let me touch you,” you decide to say instead, because if you think about him and his fingers in—anyway.

“It's fine. I don't need it.” He's oddly cagey all of a sudden.

“Let me return the favor, please,�� you insist, even adding in some good manners. It seems to still him for a moment, giving you enough time to lift his apron.

Fuck, you think to yourself, the word resounding like an alarm inside your head. His jeans are tented so tightly it looks painful. All this from touching me, you realize. You can see the shape of his bulge under the denim. The silhouette is vague, but...

It's big.

“Carmy? You still in there?”

A voice you don't recognize calls out beyond the door. As soon as you both hear it, Carmy jerks away. You mourn the loss only for a moment before you remember yourself. You're scrambling to get your pants buttoned and your apron over your head.

“Yeah, I'm still in here,” Carmy shouts back, instantaneously irritable. His back is turned to you, and you want to feel those muscles tensing under your palm. “About fuckin’ time!”

“You're welcome, by the way! I could've left you in here to freeze and die a tragic death!”

“It's not just me in here, Fak.” A beat of silence. “Are you opening it?”

“Am I fucking—Jesus Christ, Carmen, just give me a second! I'm working my magic!”

That shuts Carmy up. Almost. He sighs before turning to look at you.

“Sorry for getting us stuck in here.” The apology is equally as surprising as the softness of which he speaks. “Shitty first day, huh?”

“It's cool. It's not your fault.” Other than all the shit that was completely your fault, you think, remembering the way you were shouting at each other just a moment ago. “Kinda shitty though, yeah.”

“Yeah.” He sighs again. “If you wanna leave, I don't blame you.”

“I thought I wasn't getting fired.”

“You're not,” he says quickly. “But I'm—this place is a shitshow.” You're not sure which he really means to say, but you hear both. The restaurant, and him especially, are both complete messes. That much was obvious from the beginning. “So if you wanna take off, just…” He shrugs. “Just go.”

Maybe that'd be for the best, if you left. As far as first days go, you've already broken every rule in the book. You messed up your first task, got into an argument with your boss, and then had sex with him. Nothing about this place is particularly inviting, either. This restaurant wears its dysfunction on its sleeve, unabashed in all the ways it lacks. You had left the kitchen with ringing ears from all the noise and a cut on your hand you didn't even notice.

But here you are. You're not running. Maybe it's because of the fact that you need to pay rent. Maybe it's knowing that just one more pair of hands here could really make a difference. Maybe you're just desperate to keep food on the table. Maybe it's Carmen Berzatto, beautiful, haunted, and angry. Maybe it's all of that, a combined whole that's become greater than the sum of its parts.

Or maybe it's just that now that you've kissed him, had a taste of him, you refuse to let go. Maybe the reason is as shallow as that.

Carmy's been waiting for you to speak, tired eyes searching your own. You're still not sure what exact colors you need to perfectly recreate the blue you're staring at.

“Almost done!” Fak shouts. “Just one more hinge!”

“Heard,” Carmy shouts back. He hasn't taken his eyes off you. “So? What's it gonna be? Are you staying or not?”

Blood orange, you think all of a sudden. That's the orange you would need to make the perfect blue to match his eyes. Just a little bit—that's all you would need.

“I'm staying,” you tell him. “I need to pay rent, after all.”

Yeah. That's the reasoning you're settling on. Rent.

“Right. Of course.” There's a glimpse of that gentle smile you've seen flashes of today. It fades away as quickly as it came. “After this, I'm gonna have you learn how to check produce next.”

“Okay, sounds good,” you say as naturally as you can, given the tonal whiplash.

“There should be some that's about to get washed. I'll show you where that is.” The door's shifting. “But before that…” He lowers his voice, leans in close. Is he about to kiss you?

“W-What?”

“Get a new apron from my office. That one's dirty.” Beams of light stream through the entrance of the walk-in, forced wide open. “You need to keep your apron clean, chef.”

YOU WERE THE ONE WHO THREW IT ON THE GROUND, you want to scream. Just when you thought he started being nice, he does something that makes you want to grab him by the collar and shake him.

But you can't. The walk-in's open again, and you see your coworkers crowded by the door.

“Yes, chef,” you reply, and the words taste bitter on your tongue.

@zorrasucia

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empyreva · 3 months

Text

Pretty Girl

Summary: Carmy's girlfriend finds herself in a bit of a self-loathing spiral, so he makes sure she knows just how pretty he thinks she is.

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: Established relationship, AFAB!Reader (female nicknames used), smut, P in V, oral sex, some dom/sub elements, Carmy is downright offended you think that you're not pretty

A/N: Hey this is my first time writing fanfics in like 2 years so please be patient as I try to get back into the groove of things!! Warning for probably weird pacing...Minors DNI!!

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

Your whisper caught Carmy off guard--his eyes which were once glued to the TV screen darting over to stare at you.

"What?"

You bit into your bottom lip for a second, avoiding his gaze by training them on the news reporter who was frantically pointing at some accident that happened 4 hours ago. It was a stupid question. Honestly, you don't know what prompted you to say it, but it had been stuck in your throat for the past 30 minutes and you just couldn't take the burn anymore.

"I said," you cocked your head to look at him, "Do you think I'm pretty?"

"Wh-Of course I think you're pretty," Carmy remarked in astonishment, seemingly offended by the question. "The fuck you mean 'do you think I'm pretty?' Of course, I think you're pretty--You're fucking gorgeous for Christ's sake!"

You sink further into the sheets, not bothering to respond to Carmy despite the way his blue eyes pierced into you like ice-cold daggers. He hates me. Why am I like this? The journey beneath the covers only stopped when you were shrouded in the darkness...Only vaguely able to make out the shape of Carmy's bare ribs. They rose and fell rhythmically, and you tried to just pretend to not hear whatever Carmy was babbling on about. But as you began to let your eyes flutter shut, the sheets were ripped off from over your head.

"I was talking to you, princess. What's wrong?"

You peered up at your boyfriend, suddenly aware of the tears pooling in your eyes once they dripped down your cheek. Then, the drip became a flood as you lunged forward to wrap your arms around a very confused Carmen. His arms instinctively found their way around your sides as he shifted you to straddle him, nose buried in your hair as you wailed about how you think you're getting fatter and that the new girl at work is always so effortlessly pretty and how you never see Carmy anymore and-

"Woah woah, slow down, baby." Carmy pulled back to let you wipe away your tears, your whole body shaking with every sob you tried to hold in. His heart was breaking into a million pieces just looking at the sad, pathetic state of you. Rarely, you were the one to break down--always so level-headed and calm against the storm of Carmen's internal torments. It stressed him, but he knew he had to be there for you like you always were for him.

“‘m sorry, Carmy. So, so sorry. ‘m such a fucking baby,” you hiccuped, swatting his hands so you could wipe away your snot and tears without his help. “Y-you w-work so hard every f-fucking day and y-you look so h-handsome all the time and e-every girl wants you. Why should I-I complain? Just forget it.”

“Stop that—stop it. The fuck you mean ‘just forget it’, princess? ‘m not gonna jus’ let you cry your little heart out t’me and ‘forget’ it,” Carmy frowned, rubbing circles into your arms as he held you from a distance. “Deep breaths, baby, c’mon, you can do it. What-what do you need? What do you want?”

You sniffled for a few seconds, staring down at Carmy's lap blankly as you tried to think of what you wanted. What did you want out of this little tantrum? Words of affirmation? A hug? A fucking medal for being the most sensitive girl in the world? Nothing sounded like a good answer at the moment because none of them would actually make you feel better. What's just one thing to make you feel better?

"You. I want you," the words slipped off your tongue faster than you could process. Freezing in place, you could practically hear the gears churning inside Carmy's head. He wasn't one to deal with emotions properly, never mind his girlfriend's jump from fine to self-loathing and crying, to suddenly wanting to fuck him. Nevertheless, he would serve the world on a silver platter if you ever so asked him to.

"Well, then...Let me show you how pretty I think you are, alright? Can you do that for me, princess?"

Carmy pressed a kiss to your forehead as you gave a weak nod, his lips curling into a smile. Instead of tossing you down roughly and getting to work, he drew you closer in his embrace, rocking back and forth until your shaky breaths became shallow and quiet. As he held you close, you could feel his heartbeat synchronize with yours, a sense of comfort and ease to soothe your frantic mind. At that moment, all you wanted was to feel loved and desired, to forget about the superficial pressures weighing heavily upon your shoulders. And then, without warning, Carmy's hand drifted lower, grazing the curve of your hip before trailing downwards towards your thigh. Your breath caught in your chest as his fingers traced lazy circles around your inner knee, sending chills down your spine.

With tender strokes, Carmy moved slowly upward, teasing the sensitive crease where leg met torso. You moaned softly, arching your hips against him in response. As he reached the waistband of your shorts, Carmy paused briefly, gazing intently into your eyes. There was a fierce intensity in his expression that left you breathless, captivating you entirely.

Without a word, Carmy slipped his hands under the elastic band of your shorts, sliding them down over your hips until they pooled around your knees. Moving up under the fabric of your (his) t-shirt, his fingers traced patterns along the smooth expanse of your stomach, his thumbs skimming the outsides of your pelvis bone. You gasped aloud, feeling a sudden surge of heat spreading rapidly throughout your core.

"Shh, it's ok, princess. I've got you," Carmy cooed, peppering your face with kisses. His lips brushed away the salty trails left behind by your tears, leaving not a single patch of skin untouched. "You are so beautiful, you don't even know it. D'you understand me?"

As Carmy continued to trail featherlight circles around the edges of your panties, you closed your eyes, surrendering fully to the sensations engulfing you--forehead pressing against his. Each touch seemed to amplify the previous one, building anticipation until you could barely stand it any longer. A whine escaped you, a needy, shrill cry for him to just fuck you already. But no, when he wanted to, your boyfriend could be overly in tune with his love-making. He needed to analyze everything and craft the perfect recipe for success, and now he knew you needed to feel his adoration. Carmy’s lips found their way to your neck, suckling gently while his hands roamed freely over your skin.

Finally, he whispered your name, his voice low and throaty. It was primal—laced with desires that could tip you over the edge if you thought about them for too long. You opened your eyes again to find Carmy gazing deeply into your soul, his eyes filled with an intense yearning that made your own heart skip a beat. You felt as though you could lose yourself completely in the depths of his irises.

And then, finally, Carmy pressed his mouth to yours in a searing kiss that left you dizzy and disoriented. His tongue snaked its way into your mouth with a familiar sense of direction. He knew every part of you, inside and out, like the back of his fucking hand. All thoughts fled from your mind as you succumbed wholly to the overwhelming emotions coursing through your body. This was what love truly felt like – intense, passionate, and utterly consuming.

His hands wandered up and down your thighs, kneading the flesh gently as if testing its resilience. The pulsing desire in your core came to a head with every press of his calloused fingers into your skin, and you needily began to try and grind into him--into something to relieve the urge. Carmy leaned forward, lips never leaving yours, leading you gently down to lay back flat against the mattress.

"God you look so fuckin’ beautiful, y'know that? Like a fuckin’ angel," he growled, his hand pressing down gently on your stomach, guiding himself down to the forbidden fruit he craved. The other hand was snaked around to hold the small of your back, holding you in place as he lowered himself between your thighs. With a flick of his wrist, he lifted one leg over his shoulder, placing a kiss on the inside of your knee before continuing his journey. A trail of wet, sloppy kisses drew gasps from your chest, fingers instinctively finding a home in his curls.

When Carmy finally reached your most sensitive spot, he lingered there for a long, torturous beat, relishing the way your muscles twitched in response. Soft kisses and kitten licks peppered your clit--the slick of your arousal sticking to his lips as he worked his way to your folds with gentle kisses. Then, with a sudden surge of energy, he plunged his tongue deep into your core, bathing you in a tidal wave of ecstasy. His biceps flexed as he hooked his arms around your thighs, forcing himself to be buried entirely within you. Dipping between your folds, his tongue lapped at your pussy with fervor before flicking against your clit until you cried out his name.

It was messy, it was wet, it was fucking filthy. God the noises that man made as he ate you like he hadn't been fed in years--growling and moaning as he slurped at your pussy.

You cried out and writhed against the sheets, rolling your hips against his mouth and nose. God did that fucking nose does wonders against your clit—teasing you and beckoning you to just grind against it. And when he snarled into your pussy, it rubbed just right and rigid, like it was built just for you to use. Carmy's cock throbbed as you pulled and scratched at his scalp, each curl that was caught in your fist encouraging him to be even more depraved. His name was like a spell on your tongue—unable to muster up a single thought that wasn’t just him.

“Carmy—“ You cried out, back arching what seemed like a mile off the bed as your body was overtaken by pure bliss. The deep fire within your belly was washed away as you came against his tongue, happy tears of joy pricking at the corner of your eyes. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—“ you whined and sobbed, bucking up and squirming your hips from side to side. But even as the pleasure began to wear off, Carmy kept going, overstimulating your poor little pussy even after you weakly pushed his head away. It was no use, whatever Carmen Berzatto wanted, he would get.

His eyes were trained on your wrecked face the entire time, watching your every move. The hand that was previously in his hair was now gripping his hand tightly, knuckles white as you gnawed on your other fist, whimpering and mewling between shakey "Please"s. It was like a fucking dream come true and he wished he could stay in this moment forever. Finally, Carmy slowed his tongue, kissing against your clit while you flinched back with nervous laughter. He loved it when you did that—bringing you such fucking pleasure that you were only able to muster up giggles and whimpers. Carmy lowered his head once more, but now his attention focused not just on your sensitive parts, but also on your entire body: caressing your shoulders, trailing his fingertips along your spine, tickling the backs of your knees. He wanted to leave no part of you untouched, no corner unexplored.

You panted heavily, engulfed in his touch and kisses like you couldn’t move a limb of your own. It felt like stone filled every vein in your body, eyes heavy from all the tears you’ve shed. You were just so sleepy and content from your orgasm, not even wanting to think about moving. But still—you managed to push your body up to hunch over and run your fingers through Carmy's hair, gaining his attention as his lips found the swell of your breast. You bit your lip to hold back a groan, loving how his rough hands reached up to caress each of your tits—thumbing over the sensitive nipples.

Soon, your hands found his face, cupping his cheeks so you could look down into his eyes, his lips slick and parted as he panted heavily. Carmy seemed to melt into your touch, nuzzling into your touch and pressing kisses to your palm. You giggled, eyes searching his face, absorbing it and committing it to memory. He was clean-shaven, skin still soft and smooth after you had pestered him about just how itchy his stubble would make you when it got to the wrong length.

“Are you feeling better now, princess?” Carmy leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips, lingering for a second as you tried to formulate a response.

“A little…I’m, uh, I'm still not entirely convinced,” you teased, peppering his face with kisses as one of your hands traveled down the span of his ripped torso, lingering on the v of his hip, before hooking onto the band of his boxers. Carmy’s hands joined yours, pulling down his underwear just enough for his cock to spring free. It was hard—dripping with need as your thumb swiped over the tip, earning a sharp inhale from Carmy. "I think I still need your help."

“Don’t worry about it, princess,” he smirked, pushing you gently back down so you laid out all pretty for him. Repositioning himself, he gently rubbed circles into your hip bones as your legs wrapped around his waist. “‘m gonna make sure you feel how fuckin’ beautiful I think you are.”

Your response got caught in your throat as Carmy slid into your pussy with one slick motion, filling you all the way until you were flush against him. A pornographic moan escaped you as you ground your hips against him, your eyes clenched shut. The stretch was like a daydream, a tingly sensation of lust moving through your veins--no matter how many times he fucked you, you don't think you'd ever get used to the sheer size of him.

"That's it...Good girl...Y'taking me so fuckin' good, yeah?" Carmy's lips met yours again, his hips moving in slow, gentle strides that rocked your body in time with his. You nodded eagerly, legs clamping down on his sides and drawing him in closer. One of his hands reached up to squeeze your breast, using it as a sort of base as he began to swing his hips with more passion.

The sound of his cock pounding into your soaked pussy filled the room accompanied by airy moans and sighs. One of your hands managed to snake its way down to the junction between you and Carmy, two fingers finding your abandoned clit. With a sharp hiss, you began to rub and toy with yourself, quietly moaning for your boyfriend--earning a deep grunt of approval as he hunched over you and drove your ass up into the air to fuck you at a new, deeper angle.

“Fuck, Carmy, I—“ Your legs shook around his waist, hips grinding up to meet his frantic thrusts. His teeth dug into the side of your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin before his tongue would dart out to soothe the wound. It was taking an embarrassingly short amount of time for you to reach your second climax, your words turning to senseless babbles as the tightness in your core began to make you feel dizzy and drunk. Carmy felt your insides flutter and pulse around him, encouraging him to start fucking you even harder.

“C’mon, princess,” he growled, hand coming up to tightly grip your slack jaw. You whined in response, one of his thumbs hooking over your bottom lip and pressing down on your tongue. “I wan’this whole fuckin’ city to hear you. Let me hear you, princess, let me fuckin’—“

Carmy wasn’t able to finish his sentence before his name was ripped out of your throat, nails digging into his back. "J-Jesus, fuck, Carmy, fuck, oh my god," you cried out a string of obscenities as he fucked you through your orgasm, face buried in his neck and arms wrapped around him while he pounded your thoroughly sore pussy.

“God—Fuck, just like that, princess. ‘m so fuckin’ close. Oh fuck,” he growled into your ear. His hips began to buck wildly and without rhythm, becoming sloppier and more desperate as you moaned and whispered encouragement against his neck. Every breath was labored, Carmy's eyes squeezed shut as he felt his own release approaching like a fucking train--threatening to crash any second.

“Cum in me, please. Please, baby, please,” you whimpered, thrusting your hips flush to his. Your movements drew out more groans from him, his grip on your body tightening to an almost painful degree. “I need you to cum in me right fucking now.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice because, with a whiney moan, he spilled inside of you—pressing your hips deep into the mattress. He drove and pushed his twitching cock as deep into your stuffed cunt as he could, making sure his cum didn't get wasted. You moaned his name, gasping as he rolled his hips into you--Pumping you full of him, full of his fucking love and adoration for you. Carmy couldn't help but whimper at the sensations of your walls clenching and fluttering around him as his pleasure began to turn to pain from the overstimulation.

After catching his breath, Carmy reluctantly pulled out of you with a low "fuck" before dropping on top of you, his face was nestled against your cleavage. The two of you lay there, breathing heavily and collecting yourselves for a few minutes, relishing in the afterglow of your passion. Your heartbeat was all Carmy could hear, the only thing he could focus on as he tried to calm down and try to be a functioning human being again. Lazily, your fingers played with the curls at the nape of his neck before tracing patterns across the span of his muscular shoulders--earning a shudder of approval from Carmy.

After laying together for a few, tender, minutes, Carmy pulled himself together and rolled off of you so he could plop himself next to you. His eyes stayed on you, though, and he smiled when you turned on your side to meet his gaze fully.

“My beautiful princess. So pretty, so smart, so sweet,” he cooed, reaching over to brush some sweaty strands of hair out of your face, letting his thumb then trail along your cheekbone. You leaned into his touch, eyes shut with contentment as he continued to caress your jaw. Carmy's lips met yours again, stretching into a smile as you gave him a sleepy kiss in return. Knowing that if he didn't get you up soon you'd fall asleep all dirty and sweaty, he pulled away from your touch--finding his footing as he slipped off the bed.

“Let’s get you in the shower, yeah?” His voice was coarse and husky, strained from the activities. Leaning over you again, his fingers tracing from your collarbones to the center of your belly, settling on your hips as he angled you towards his body. "Gonna regret it if you don't, princess."

“But Carmyyyyy I’m sooooo tired,” you whined as he pulled you toward the edge of the bed, fingers catching in the sheets. His cum was now leaking from your pussy, which was thoroughly fucked and satisfied with the many prizes Carmy gave you for being his girl--For a second, his brain short-circuited, resisting the urge to leave you at the edge of the bed and fuck you with his mouth until you came for him again and again and again--

“Enough of that, c’mon.”

“Yes…chef…”

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto smut #the bear #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear

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berzatoe · 10 months

Text

I Can See You

Warnings: swearing, smoking, smut, fingering, oral (M receiving), p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, spanking, dom!carmy, sub!reader, lots of dirty talk, Carmy is mean.

Pairings: Carmen Berzatto x F!reader

Synopsis: reader is a new hire at the bear set to replace sydney while she goes abroad, and she and carmen do not get along. On a particularly stressful night, they find a great way to sort out their differences.

Authors note: okay I was listening to Taylor’s song “I can see you” and this came to mind so here. There’s not enough Carmy smut out there so I am contributing. ALSO ACCEPTING REQUEST RN SO PLEASE SEND!!!

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

—————————

The clock was ticking. A few minutes to open and so far, everything that could go wrong, had gone wrong.

When you agreed to fill in as Sous for sydney while she went abroad to study in Copenhagen, you didn’t realize what you were getting yourself into.

Night after night, you had anxiety levels in that kitchen similar to those of someone being hunted by wild animals.

That’s why they call it the bear— the thought occurred to you the first rush you worked. Richie and Carmen had almost killed each other, Tina nearly walked out, you were down an oven and the damn fridge was broken. It felt like you were running for your life as you tried to gain control of that kitchen.

“Chef, I said hands.” His firm voice cut through your thoughts.

“Yes, chef.” you followed his voice and took his place mixing as he began chopping vegetables. His biceps flexed with the heavy rhythm of the knife coming down against the board, veins swelling with tension, knuckles growing white.

He was another problem. He was the essence of the bear. You two butted heads like no other. Ever since sydney hired you to take her place for her leave, he’d been at your throat, hungry for your blood.

You were an ingenue of sorts at a prestigious chef school, and went on to work in one of his competing restaurants in New York at a very young age. You had come in with confidence of your abilities, and had different ways of doing things than Carmy. He couldn’t quite accept it, and you knew he didn’t respect you just yet.

But you craved his approval, for some reason. Something about Carmy made you thirst for his praise. You were constantly showing him new dishes you wanted on the menu to only be turned down. You two would easily get in screaming matches over wether to dice or mince, which spices to add, how long to cook, until you were out of breath and both needed a smoke break.

It didn’t help that he was so goddamn handsome. Watching him work, watching him be impassioned by his work, in command of his staff, it set something off in you. Even when he was screaming at you, there would be a glint in his eye, a vein popping in his neck, or a tone he took that would have you clenching your thighs together.

Now, you stood next to him staring at his strong arms and hands cutting vegetables, falling apart because you’re so stressed and all you can think about is those hands around your throat.

“Chef! What the hell!!” carmy shouted

You’d somehow poured the entire stock pot of sauce all over the oven.

You were stood there just staring at it emptily, trying to understand how it had happened.

“What were you thinking?!” Carmy yelled again.

“I can make more! I’ll get right on it, Chef.”

“We are fucking opening in exactly one minute, chef, we needed that sauce. We NEEDED THAT FUCKING SAUCE.”

“It was only half of the batch, the other one is still there.” You pointed toward the other pot, still heating. Then Carmen let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose as your eyes widened.

The second timer for it immediately went off, meaning it had reset. The alarm rang through the kitchen like a death siren. The sauce was cooking for twice as long as it was supposed to.

“Yup, looks like you burnt that sauce. Congratu-fucking-lations. We can’t open. Are you incompetent chef? Are you stupid?”

The words hurt. “I was going to take care of that sauce before you called for hands!”

“This is the 5th thing you’ve fucked up this morning. You’re ruining my open.”

“If you ever listened to me, I swear I have a more efficient way to do this where we don’t need to call hands and everybody has a set job—“

“This isn’t your restaurant, chef.” He cut you off with a cold stare to match his words, eyes piercing into your soul.

You huffed and spun around, scared if you stayed everyone would see you cry. You ran to the back, out the door, and sat against the brick wall of the alleyway. You rolled your head into your hands, trying to collect yourself.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” Richie’s voice rung out. He stood leant up against the fence, smoking.

“Oh god,” you sniffed, looking up and quickly wiping tears away. You didn’t answer, instead, you reached out your hand, silently asking for a smoke.

Richie obliged and continued, “you know, Carmy is really hard on you, huh?”

You stayed quiet, taking a long drag and looking off to the city as you exhaled.

“He has a really hard time with people. He’s not like me. And I think he’s really threatened by you, cuz you’re so good. He had to be a control freak and work for it, but you’re just good.”

You pondered this for a moment, “you really think that?”

“Uh, yeah sweetheart. You’re a natural. He has to at least believe he’s in control or else he’d go apeshit. Also, I think he sort of has a thing for you, so it affects his focus… or whatever…”

You paused. You never thought of the possibility that it could be mutual. That he’d lose focus looking at you the way you so often did with him. But he had just been such an asshole, and you were angry, and god, you wanted to make him pay.

“Richie, I don’t think that could be true. He doesn’t like me. He’s so mean to me.”

Richie just chuckled and then put the cigarette the two of you had been sharing out.

“I know the kid. Get back in there, make him think he’s in charge, and do your thing, little miss sunshine.” Richie smiled and squeezed your shoulders. That was his nickname for you, because of your general sunny disposition. It had changed the place a lot.

The rest of your shift until close, you did what Richie suggested. You made Carmen think he was in charge. You followed orders with a smile and a “yes, chef”, you trailed after him and cleaned up his messes without him noticing, and soon enough the two of you were doing a successful close, allowing the rest of the staff to go home early.

Through the night, you’d also found a way to combat how distracted Carmy could make you. Richie’s intel had allowed you to flip the tables on him. Instead of focusing on how worked up he got you, you started focusing on how worked up you could get him.

You’d always stare at him for just a second too long after saying “yes, chef”, you’d squeeze pass him, intentionally pushing your body close to his. You’d find opportunities to bend over in front of him, stretch out, let your hand linger on his too long when he handed you something. Anything to be close, any chance you got. You were doing your best to see if what Richie had said held any truth to it.

You’d almost given up, you thought for sure something would happen, but the two of you had wrapped things up and were turning down the lights in the restaurant as you got ready to leave.

Carmy had been suspiciously quiet since everyone went home and you were beginning to feel awkward in the silence.

You were standing in front of your locker, grabbing your bag, when Carmy turned around and said, “Wanna tell me what the fuck was up with you tonight?”

You swallowed and turned around to face him, “I don’t know what you mean.”

He took a step closer to you, “I think you do.”

He walked the small distance between your lockers until he was flush against you. He leaned forward until you were cheek to cheek, his lips to your ear as he whispered, “you think you could ruin my open, then tease me like a desperate little whore the whole fucking shift, and get away with it?”

His words went straight to your pussy. Your heart was beating faster than it had ever before, here you were; finally caught by the wild beast hunting you down. He’d fallen for your bait. You smirked.

He lifted his head from your neck where he was planting kisses, seeing the grin on your face. He gripped your jaw with a firm hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Oh, you’re proud of yourself, hmm?” His hand trailed down and came to rest at your collar bones. You moaned in response.

He knew what you wanted. His hand closed around your neck and you smiled again.

Carmen closed his lips around yours. It was unexpected, and even though his hand was rough against your neck, the kiss was slow and gentle. It felt almost nervous, hesitant maybe, and that just made you even more desperate for him. You let out a whimper, begging him to give your more, and his tongue licked into your mouth as his other hand came up to squeeze your breast.

After that he went feral. Pushing up against you, clutching onto your throat, licking roughly and desperately into your mouth, grinding his hard cock against your heat.

He came back up for air, staring at you for a moment, searching your eyes for any regret, hesitancy, anything but what he found; which was pure, eager, lust.

He trailed kisses down your neck and chest and latched onto your nipple as he quickly began pushing down your pants. His calloused hands slowly began teasing the soft delicate skin of your thighs, rubbing soft circles so close to your core.

You whined, and in response he let out a light teasing chuckle as he pushed his hand pass your folds, immediately landing his thumb right against your clit.

Your body convulsed at this, and he loved it. He studied your face, looking for every reaction and using them as cues as he began circling his thumb against your clit.

“Yeah?” He breathed, clearly enjoying it too, “is this what you wanted? Hmm? You’re so fucking wet for me. How long have you been thinking about this? How long have you wanted me to touch you?”

Any nervousness you had detected in Carmy before was long gone. He was in control. You were letting him be in control, again, and he was about to ravish you for it.

“Answer me.” His thumb stopped and he tightened his grip around your neck.

“I’ve wanted you since-“ he began rubbing your clit again.

“Since- my first shift- I-“ his ring finger poked at your entrance.

“I-I can never stop thinking about you and-“ his finger fully entered you now and you instantly clenched around it.

“And- I always fantasize about you fucking me which is why i can’t do any of my work right!” You spit out quickly as his finger began pushing in and out of you. At this, he curled it up to meet your spongey spot deep within and you let out a yelp.

“Oh poor baby” he said as he slowed his movements, adding another finger and thrusting them in and out at a torturous pace. Your back was still pressed up against the lockers and the sting of the metal carving into your skin heightened all of your sensations.

“Stupid little slut can’t do her job because she wants to fuck her boss so bad, is that it?” He thrusts his finger into you hard.

“Please” you begged.

“Please what? What do you want?”

“Go faster, I’m so close!”

He instantly removed his fingers from your and you felt the emptiness like a hole.

You went to complain before he clamped a hand around your mouth, “Don’t say a thing. You’re lucky I even gave you my fingers after the shit you pulled tonight, baby. You think you can tell me what to do? You think that’s how this is gonna work? I would just let you cum and then give you my cock and make you cum again?” He laughed.

His eyes were dark and full of want, his cock was hard and it was so painfully evident through his pants. It looked so big and you couldn’t get your mind off of it.

He noticed you staring and began undoing his belt. “Get on your knees.”

You gulped and froze.

He put a hand on your shoulder, pushing you down until you were kneeling, “I said, get. On. Your. Knees.”

He finished undoing his pants and you were face to face with his long, hard, thick cock.

“Be a good girl and suck it, baby” he said. You started towards him before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you back.

“What do you say when I ask you to do something, darling?” His tone was condescending, but you answered nonetheless.

“Yes, chef.”

He groaned and rolled his head back, “yeah, that’s right, good fuckin’ girl” pushing your head back towards his cock as an invitation. You accepted.

You were brutal with your movements, sucking and licking and pushing him as deep as you could get him. He was anything but shy with letting you know how much he enjoyed it, his grip tightening around your hair and pulling and pushing ever so slightly, his hips unintentionally bucking up, forcing his cock down the back of your throat.

And the sounds he was making, oh, they could only be from your dreams. He was unraveling at the seams and whimpering like a dog when you reached your hand up to cup his balls and lightly massage them, he pushed your head so far down you couldn’t breathe.

“Oh my fucking go-d” he said before pulling you off him with a “pop” and staring at your fucked-out face.

Blown out eyes stared back up at him, saliva coating swollen lips, mascara smudged and running, hair a mess. He was proud of himself, and the sight turned him on to no end. He knew if he let you continue he’d cum. However, you were relentless and as soon as he let up on your hair, you dove back down.

“Okay baby, that’s enough.” He said, tearing you away again.

“Why?” You asked genuinely, and it made his heart flutter.

“Cuz if you don’t stop, you’re gonna make m’cum. Can’t do that yet. Wanna do it deep, deep inside ya’… if that’s okay?” He whispered gently, cupping your face and wiping your cheeks.

“Please, god please.” You cried, nodding your head. He grabbed your hand and helped you up, leading you to his office.

There, carmy turned you around and placed, gentle, sweet kisses along your shoulder before whispering, “are you sure this is okay?”

To which, you nodded desperately. But that wasn’t enough for him.

“I need you to say it, honey. I need you to say that you want this. That you want me to fuck you right here on this desk, and fill you up with my cum.”

“I want you Carmy, I want you so bad.”

“Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me on this desk and fill me up with your cum.” You whined, slightly embarrassed, pussy swollen and begging to be fucked.

He pushed you down until you were bending over the desk, chest flush against it. He got a good look at how much you truly wanted him.

“Jesus Christ, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen” he said, roughly spreading you.

“So fucking wet and tight too, could feel you squeezing my fingers earlier.” He spit into his hand and cupped your pussy with it, rubbing the spit down and over your folds.

You felt the tip of his cock tease your hole, slowly making little circles, just barely entering. At this point, you were so ready for him this actually felt mean. You needed relief and he knew it, he saw it, saw your clit throbbing and your legs shaking, body blushing all over. You beginning to make a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before.

He starts to softly comfort you but you know he’s proud of himself, with a smirk on his face as he does it, “ssshhh-sshhh… it’s okay, baby. I know, I know, it’s a lot. I just wanna make sure I don’t hurt you so I’m gonna start real slow, okay? Know you need me. Gonna take good care of you, promise” he slowly starts to inch himself in, and you have to admit, his size surprised you. You were glad for his patience.

When he finally burrows himself all the way within you, you both let out a moan in-sync at the new feeling. Both taking a second to adjust, you tighten and release your walls, making him groan.

“So. Fucking. Tight.” He says between thrusts as he begins, setting a good pace.

Once Carmen is finally fucking you, finally moving within you, taking you raw, you feel free. You let go of all the stress from the restaurant and let him drill it out of you, and you’re sure you’re serving the same purpose for him.

“S’good… so fucking good…” carmen is saying as he fucks you, pace picking up, getting more rough by the second. The praise makes you melt, you squeeze him again and revel in the loud moan you get out of it.

He grabs another fistful of your hair and pulls your head back, making your back arch and the position hit so much deeper. He leans over your body and reaches down to rub your clit with the hand not on your head. It makes you tremble under him.

“Doing s’well for me baby… knew this was all you wanted…. All I could ever think about too… taking you back here… fucking you hard and good just to shut you up… emptying my load deep inside you… leaving you to work the rest of your shift all filled up with me… you’ve been such a little tease every day since you got here… giving me those looks across the kitchen, wearing those little outfits in on your days off, pushing my buttons just to get a rise out of me… I’ve wanted this for so long, pretty baby. You’re so fucking pretty”

You cry out at his drunken confession. It gets you so worked up, you’re almost there, and you can tell he is too.

“Carmy…” you whine, feeling him so deep, hitting that spot every single time without pause, working you up and up and up.

“Yes, baby?”

“Cum inside of me, please. I want it all. Want you to fill me up. M’sclose too. Please please please, fill me up Carmy.” You’re practically in tears and it does something to Carmy. He hears you.

He quickens his pace, getting sloppier, rougher, more sporadic, the two of you making noises like animals, and soon he takes a hand and slaps it down across your ass, causing a loud thwack, as you scream in euphoria. He does it one more time, hard enough to leave a welt, before spilling his seed deep, deep inside of your pussy.

As he pumps his seed into you, again and again, you feel that coil come undone and are seeing stars before you know it, panting and moaning and sweating as Carmy holds you in his arms and snaps his hips back into you occasionally.

He’s collapsed over you on the desk, the two of you exhausted and decompressing. He places a few kisses against your cheek before standing up and pulling himself out, groaning again at the sight. He sees your welted ass, pussy red and swollen, knees shaking, body rising up and down from being out of breath and he instinctively pulls your dead weight into his office chair and runs to get you a water.

You decide that you and Carmy have found an incredible, healthy way to work out your differences in the kitchen.

#carmy smut #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto smut #the bear #the bear smut #dom!carmy #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x you #Carmy blurb #carmy imagine #smut #richie the bear #the bear imagine

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