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playg0d · 4 days ago

Text

you stare at your phone longer than you should.

you’re in bed already, lights off, tucked beneath the covers. it’s too quiet. you’ve been telling yourself it’s fine to stay here tonight. you even believed it, for a little while.

but now it’s late, and the ache has settled in. not just the missing him kind, but the one that curls low in your belly when you think about him half-asleep, voice gravelly, hair messy, the heat of his body tangled in sheets. that sleepy voice? yeah. it gets you every time.

it’s saturday, the restaurant’s closed tomorrow. the one day carmy isn’t needed in the kitchen. he’s probably already out cold, limbs heavy with exhaustion.

still, your thumb hovers over his name… Bear 🧸

you tap.

one ring. two.

“baby?” his voice is thick, rough like gravel and wrecked with sleep. “’s everything okay?”

you grin immediately, warmth blooming in your chest, suddenly feeling kind of stupid.

“yeah, carm. everything’s alright. i just…” you trail off, a little shy now. “i just missed you today.”

there’s a pause. then, softer, “yeah?”

you can hear the gentleness in his voice, even after just being abruptly awakened.

“mhm,” you hum. “i know you worked late and i shouldn’t be calling just to say that but…” you stop, embarrassed. “i wanted to hear your voice. is that dumb?”

“nah,” he says, voice still scratchy, but warm. “not dumb. i miss you too.”

a smile touches your lips.

“wish you were here,” he murmurs.

your stomach flips. god, you wish you were there too. curled into his side, wrapped in his strong arms, his voice rumbling against your skin.

“me too,” you whisper. “you sound sexy when you’re tired, you know?”

he huffs a soft, sleepy laugh. “yeah? wanna hear that voice in person?”

“soon,” you promise. “just needed to hear you first.”

“you know i’m always gonna pick up for you, baby. always.”

you hum, turning onto your side, the phone warm against your cheek. “i know. that’s why i called.”

you shift under the sheets.

“i just like you like this. all sleepy and soft.”

he lets out a low, amused breath. “oh yeah? what else you like when i’m like this?”

you let out a breathy laugh. “you wanna hear it?”

“course i do.”

“i like thinking about you… in bed. messy hair. nothing on but maybe those boxers i like. all warm and sleepy and hard for me.”

he lets out a soft, teasing groan. “jesus.”

you smirk, slow and wicked. “had to call.”

“yeah?” his voice is already thicker. “why’s that?”

“’cause i needed to hear you,” you say, and you’re playing now, sweet and just a little sultry. “gets me all worked up, actually.”

he goes quiet for a beat. you can picture him rubbing a hand over his face, trying to push through the fog of sleep and the pull of you.

“shit, baby…”

“mhm,” you whisper, relentless with the way you miss him. “bet you look so good right now. all cozy and half-asleep, voice all low like that. wish i was there.”

his voice comes back wrecked, lower than before. “you’re not makin’ it easy to stay still over here.”

you smile, eyes slipping shut. “i didn’t say you had to stay still.”

he groans quietly, and you grin, proud of yourself.

“fuck, you’re trouble.”

“you love it.”

“yeah,” he breathes. “i really do.”

you let the silence stretch just long enough to be suggestive. and then… you yawn. a soft, content sound that catches you off guard.

“damn,” you mumble. “didn’t mean to get all needy and then crash on you.”

carmy’s quiet again, but it’s a different kind of quiet now. he’s smiling. you can hear it in the way he sighs, like you’ve just knocked the wind out of him in the gentlest way.

“you’re fallin’ asleep on me, baby?”

“mmhmm.”

“that’s okay, i’ll stay on the line,” he murmurs.

you hum again, barely awake now. and he whispers, more to himself than you, “you don’t even know what you do to me.”

and as you drift off, breathing slow and even, he stays on the other end, listening. holding the phone to his ear in the dark. eyes on the ceiling. chest full.

yeah, he was already gone for you. but now he’s sunk even deeper, if that’s even possible.

he’s hopeless. and so fucking in love.

₊˚⊹♡

thank you for reading. please reblog or comment. or both ☻

#by playg0d #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #who wouldn't want to hear carmy's sleepy sexy voice tho

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playg0d · 8 days ago

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carmy has a surprisingly common sex fantasy that he’s yet to experience. (18+)

you didn’t even mean to end up in the shower together. not at first.

it started with a long shift. too long. the kind that settled into carmy’s shoulders like bricks. he came home exhausted and quiet, smelling like smoke and onions. you didn’t ask questions, just stood up from your spot on the couch and helped him out of his jacket, pressed a little kiss to his back for a second longer than usual.

and he exhaled. not relaxed, but as if he just remembered he was allowed to breathe here. with you.

“come on,” you said softly. “shower. you’ll feel better.”

he nodded. didn’t say much, just followed.

he took a second to toss his shirt in the hamper, moving on autopilot, before stepping into the bathroom.

and for a moment, he just stood there… stunned stupid.

steam clung to the air, the sound of water hitting tile, the way your silhouette moved behind the glass, the soft smile you gave him over your shoulder like it was nothing. like it wasn’t a quiet little fantasy he didn’t even realize he’d been holding onto all these years. still warm, still unfulfilled.

because it was a fantasy. one of the oldest ones. not even about sex. well, not only about sex. it was more about getting to have this. be this close. be wanted like this.

he’d been having this dream since he was a teenager. since the first time he even thought about sex and didn’t know what the hell to do with all that wanting. back then, it wasn’t even graphic. just shapes and heat and steam. someone he liked, laughing in a shower. soft skin and trust. hands through wet hair. nothing wild. just the intimacy of it, the closeness.

carmy wasn’t a virgin. not by a long shot. but still, he felt green. inexperienced. because the sex he’d had before was always just… release. a way to decompress when things got too tight in his chest. and in the kitchens he worked in, under all that pressure, it always got tight. he never had the time or the space to figure out what he really wanted. so the dreams stayed dreams.

and this one, the shower, the steam, the feel of your body slick against his, the sound of shared moans echoing off tile… it was cliché as hell. one of the most basic sex fantasies out there, he knew that. didn’t matter. he wanted it anyway. wanted it so bad.

and now, you were here. he had you.

you, inside his shower, already naked, waiting for him.

and the fantasy he used to fall asleep to had never felt more real. never hit harder.

he wasn’t even sure what to do first. how to walk across the bathroom and make it seem casual. but you didn’t rush him, didn’t tease him. just stood there under the water, with that gentle smile on your lips, the one he couldn’t quite read. something soft in it, but also expectant. a little sexy, a little timid. like you were wondering what might happen next too.

he hesitated, just a beat. then his fingers found his waistband, tentative and a little shaky, pulling pants and boxers down in one go. and that’s how he stepped in, slowly. bare skin to bare skin, heart hammering, the spray of water echoing off tile all around him.

it felt like he was being let into something secret. and for once, he didn’t want to run.

you reach for the soap, lather it between your hands, and he watches you. not in a way that makes you self-conscious, but in a way that makes you feel seen. desired. he’s memorizing every small motion, eyes drinking you in, as if he still can’t believe this is real.

his blue eyes track every inch of you, wide and almost awestruck, lashes heavy with droplets, blinking slow through the steam. he’s soaked and completely wrecked just by the sight of you.

and god, the way he’s looking at you. it already has you a little turned on, warm all over. like you’ve been touched without being touched at all.

you don’t ask for permission. you just press your hands to his chest, start slow, careful. glide the suds over his skin and down his sternum. his breath hitches. his eyes close for a second, jaw flexing like he’s trying not to fall apart from just being touched.

you whisper, “you okay?”

he nods too fast. swallows. “yeah. yeah, i just… no one’s ever…”

his voice trails off, shoulders twitching under your hands. he doesn’t finish the sentence, and you don’t need him to.

your fingers trace the dip below his collarbones, then slide lower, skimming over his sculpted ribs and toned stomach. slow and steady, like you’re mapping him out. his body lean and strong, with sharp angles and defined muscles that speak of long hours working hard and a quiet strength beneath the surface.

he’s breathing unevenly now, leaning into your touch like it’s the only thing tethering him to the moment.

you press a kiss to his shoulder, warm water cascading down both of you. his hands finally lift, hesitant at first, until they settle on your waist, thumbs stroking your skin.

"can i…" he starts, then doesn’t finish. again.

his voice is too quiet, too reverent.

you guide his hands up, around your ribs, over the curve of your back, settling them just beneath your shoulder blades.

“you don’t have to ask,” you murmur, tilting your face up to his. “just touch me.”

and so he does.

his hands are curious, but also worshipful. he touches you like you’re a dream come true, like this moment is something he doesn’t want to rush. he’s not just chasing an end, but trying to savor and commit every sensation to memory.

he finally kissed you. and you kissed him back, like you��d been waiting just as long. he sighed into your mouth, soft and shaky, like that was the moment he’d been waiting for since he stepped through the door. his hands grew bolder now. up your back, down your hips, skimming the side of your breasts, fingertips gliding over your thighs like he was scared of forgetting the way. you let your body press into his, skin to skin, steam wrapping around you like a second set of hands.

he groans, the sound vibrating against your lips, when your hips shift forward, brushing against his hardening cock. he breaks away, forehead pressed to yours, trying to catch his breath.

“fuck,” he murmurs again, and it’s not even a curse anymore. it’s disbelief.

you continue to roll your hips gently against him, his tip lightly snagging between your thighs, and his mouth falls open, forehead pressing to your shoulder now, like he’s trying to stay grounded. he gasps out your name. overwhelmed already. and it’s everything. it makes your whole body pulse.

“you okay?” you ask once again, mouth brushing the shell of his ear.

he nodded, hard. “yeah. i just–fuck–i’ve thought about this for so long.”

his eyes flicked down, then back to yours. “this… bein’ here with you. in the shower. it’s been in my head for… years. like–like a fuckin’ dream, and i know it’s–”

he couldn’t finish. because the moment your hand wrapped around him, everything short-circuited. a moan broke from his throat, low and desperate.

you stroked him once. slow, sure, deliberate. his hips jerked forward slightly, unthinking. he was hot and hard in your palm, already dripping pre, and when you did it again, his mouth dropped open with a soft, inarticulate gasp. not because he hadn’t felt this before, but because he hadn’t felt it like this. not here, not with steam curling around his shoulders and your wet skin pressed to his, not with the wet echo of pure want resounding through the tiled space.

“holy shit,” he whispered, barely audible over the water. like he couldn’t believe this was real. like you weren’t just touching him, but undoing every version of this moment he’d ever imagined.

you kept it steady, a slow rhythm of your wrist just to watch him unravel, one gasp at a time.

his hand slid down your back, then gripped your ass, holding on like that was the only thing grounding him.

“i want you,” he breathed, voice cracking just a little, almost desperate. “please. can we–fuck–can we do it here? in the shower?”

you kissed him again, slow and deep. your body already answering for you, the way you pressed closer, the way your hand slid along his drenched abs like you couldn’t get enough. you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. your voice low, warm and a little breathless.

“yeah, baby,” you whispered, lips brushing his. “right here. take me.”

his hands find your hips again, firmer now, more certain, fingers digging in like he needs to feel you anchored beneath them. warm water poured over both of you, flowing in rivulets down your bodies, slicking your skin as steam billowed around you.

you brace one hand against the wall behind you, the other wrapped around his shoulder for balance, and guide him into you, slow, careful. your breath catching as he presses in, inch by inch. his gaze meet yours, both of you flushed and trembling, wet skin sliding against wet skin

it’s overwhelming. the heat, the intimacy, the ache of finally. like he’s never going to forget a single second of this.

he eases into you like he’s afraid he might break something. like the water might still wake him up.

your hands are steady on his shoulders, fingers curling just a little when you feel him stretch you, unhurried and precise, trying to memorize the way you feel around him.

“jesus,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. his voice sounds stunned. “you’re so tight, fuck.”

you just nod, too breathless to say much else.

he doesn’t move at first. just holds you there, hands trembling against your skin like he’s still getting used to the idea that this fantasy is becoming a reality.

you kiss him again, soft and coaxing, and he starts to move. slow. so slow it makes your head fall back against the wall behind you. he follows the motion with his mouth, pressing kisses to your neck, your collarbone, anywhere his lips can reach.

“feels good?” he asks, voice shaky, barely there.

you nod, moan softly. “yeah, baby. so good.”

you tilt your head, brushing your lips against his jaw.

“how about you?” you murmur, breath warm on his skin. “is this how you pictured it?”

he lets out a low, wrecked sound, somewhere between a laugh and a moan, and quickly focuses on your pretty face again.

“better,” he says, eyes searching yours like he can’t believe you’re real. “so much better.”

and the fact that you asked, that you care about how it feels for him, makes something in him come undone. he won’t forget that tenderness, the love threaded between each breath and movement. this isn’t just a fantasy anymore. it’s real, and it’s with the one person who sees him, wants him, loves him.

his hips roll again, a little deeper now, more sure of himself, panting at the way you cling to him in return.

your leg tightens around him as the rhythm builds, and the water keeps falling. warm, rushing, washing over both of you like some kind of absolution. but there’s nothing holy about the way you’re moving now. nothing sacred except maybe the way he’s looking at you. eyes wide, mouth parted, like this is the only thing that’s ever made sense.

“you’re–” he tries again, but can’t finish. his head falls to your shoulder, breath stuttering as you rock into him again.

you slide your fingers into his hair, grounding him, and whisper against his ear, “it’s okay, baby. i’ve got you.”

and god, the way he moans when you say that, broken and beautiful, like he never knew someone could have him like this.

like no one ever has.

his rhythm changes to a deeper one, he’s fucking you harder now. not rushed, but determined. like something clicks in him, like he finally believes it’s really happening. that you’re really his, here and wet and warm around him, moaning his name like it’s the only word you’ve ever known.

his hands grip tighter at your hips, dragging you closer, tilting your body just right so he can thrust up into you again and again.

the water beats down around you both, steam rising between gasps and slick skin and the quiet slap of movement between your bodies. his eyes drop for a moment to take you in. the way water trails down your chest, slipping over your breasts, nipples peaked and glistening. he can’t help himself. he cups them, thumbs brushing over the tight buds, watching you shudder at the touch. his jaw flexes, and a low groan escapes his chest. the sound makes your spine arch against the tile, cold against your back, a sharp contrast to the heat rolling off his body like a blaze.

“fuck–” he pants, voice ragged. “you don’t even know… how many times i thought about this.”

he grabs under your thigh, lifts you higher, and slams back into you with a force that punches the air from your lungs. you cry out, nails clawing into his back, but he doesn’t stop. he can’t.

“used to think about it all the time,” he says, thrusts growing erratic. “having you like this. your legs around me, water pouring down over us–fuck–”

you can barely think straight. all you can feel is him. the way he fills you, the way he kisses you like he’s starved for it, the way he’s talking out of pure lust. his mouth finds yours again, messy and wild. his tongue tangling with yours as he groans into your throat, his hips stuttering forward like he’s trying to crawl inside you.

and when he pulls back just enough to look at you, cheeks flushed, hair soaked, eyes wild, you see it clear as day: he’s not holding back anymore.

this was his fantasy. and now he’s living it. you. wrapped around him. soaked and shaking. his.

and he’s fucking you like he never wants it to end.

your back presses harder to the tile, slick and trembling. his hands never stop moving. one gripping the back of your thigh to keep you steady, the other sliding up between your bodies, fingers slipping over your soaked skin until he finds your clit.

he circles it, slow, then fast, in time with his thrusts, and it’s like a jolt through your spine.

“that’s it,” he grits, voice low and strained, forehead pressing to yours. “come on, come for me. wanna feel you.”

you unravel under him, sharp and sudden. a burst of light behind your eyes, a cry of bear! that echoes in the small space, drowned only by the water crashing around you. your legs tighten around him, arms clinging to his shoulders like you might break apart if you let go.

he tightens his jaw, barely holding himself back as he fucks you through it, but he doesn’t follow. not yet. he’s still rock hard inside you, still throbbing, still chasing it. and when your body starts to loosen, shuddering and dripping wet, he doesn’t waste a second.

“not done, baby,” he pants, voice rough in your ear.

he pulls out only far enough to manhandle you into place. hands tight on your hips as he turns you around, pressing your chest to the wall tile. it’s cold against your breasts, and it’s shocking, but his hands are everywhere. steadying your waist, spreading your pussy open. you brace one leg on the shelf for balance, presenting for him like you’re his to take. because you are.

he groans behind you, the sound filthy and desperate. “jesus, you’re unreal.”

when he slides back in, it’s with one smooth thrust, and the slap of his hips to your ass echoes loud in the steam. he grabs your hips like he never wants to let go.

“you’re fucking perfect,” he mutters, like it’s been sitting on his tongue for too long. “so wet for me. so fucking perfect.”

he drags his hand up your spine, slow and reverent, and then back down, cupping your ass, kneading once, then guiding himself back in with a low groan. you’re tighter from this angle, deeper, and it punches a sound out of both of you.

his hips snap forward again, harder now, and your whole body jerks with it. he braces one hand beside your head on the wall, the other gripping your hip so tight you’ll probably feel it later.

he starts to move, sharp and hungry, each thrust heavy and claiming, like all those years of quiet want are pouring out of him at once. like he’s making up for every day he didn’t get to do this with you.

you’re moaning now, loud, wild, unrestrained. but it doesn’t matter. not over the sharp slap of skin against skin, the rush of water crashing down, or the ragged, guttural groans he spills with every thrust. it’s all filthy and frantic, soaked in steam and sweat. the slick, relentless rhythm of your bodies drowns beneath the roar of the shower.

a whimper of his name escapes you, which only fuels his roughness. his rhythm breaks, but only to adjust your leg higher, opening you wider. he shoves his cock back in, so deep it steals your breath, making you splay your fingers against the tile for purchase. his palm covers your stomach, grounding you as he presses you into his body.

you can feel him everywhere. his chest against your back, the heat of his breath at your shoulder, the sharp need in the way he fucks you like he’s starving. and maybe he is.

because this was the fantasy. you, naked and drenched, bent over in the shower, steam curling around your bodies while he finally, finally gets to fuck you like he's dreamed of for so long.

carmy’s breath hitches as he thrusts one last time. your gasps echoes off the tiles as he comes, hot and thick, pulsing deep inside you. you feel his body tremble, his cock twitching inside with each surge of release, your walls milking him through it. the water pounds down, washing over you as he stays locked in place, buried deep as he groans your name into your neck. it’s rough, raw, like it tears out of him.

you feel the way he continues to shake against you, the way his hands grasp at your body like he still can’t believe it’s real. his hands start to explore again, slower this time, tracing the lines of your waist, the soft of your thigh. his mouth and tongue brush the curve of your shoulder, then your spine, open-mouthed kisses, as if to apologize for how rough he got, or maybe just to worship you now that he can.

“fuck,” he whispers, forehead pressed to the back of your neck. “it’s better than i thought. better than anything i ever–”

he can’t even finish the sentence. you’re both breathless, soaked, bodies tangled and twitching, warm water still streaming down your skin, doing nothing to cool the heat between you.

he pulls out slowly, one hand still firm on your hip, the other reaching around to guide you to turn. and when you do, his eyes flick down. at your flushed skin, your chest rising and falling, the soap still clinging in streaks to your curves. and he lets out this soft, stunned little noise.

you lean into him, letting your forehead rest against his.

“we good?” you whisper, lips curling in a teasing grin.

he nods, breath still uneven, hand cupping your cheek, thumb dragging gently across your mouth.

“we’re more than good,” he says, voice low. “thank you for indulging me.”

you laugh softly, dizzy with love and the high of him. because if he asked, you’d do it all again in a heartbeat.

he kisses you then. slower now and filthy-sweet, like he’s still tasting the fantasy made real.

and when you finally step out of the shower, wet and flushed, towels barely clinging to your bodies, he doesn’t let you get far. just grabs your wrist, pulls you back into him with a growl against your neck.

“next time,” you murmur, smirking, “don’t wait so long to tell me your dirty little fantasies…”

he exhales hard, hands already wandering again, voice hot against your skin, “yeah? then don’t make me wait long for the next round.”

because with the way he’s looking at you now, you know it’s only a matter of time.

₊˚⊹♡

thank you for reading. please reblog or comment. or both ☻

#by playg0d #playg0d oneshot #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #something smutty for yall #i really think this is a fantasy for carm #he can be basic sometimes #we still love him

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