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laiiaaa · 10 months ago

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

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

“Hey, Cousin—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

“Okay. I love you.”

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

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

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

“What’s your name?” the one asks him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it’s special—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

“I drove here.”

“You what?”

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

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

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

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

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

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #jeremy allen white #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto fic #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 years ago

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Pity Party.

Synopsis - Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands.

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Roommate Reader

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention. carmys filthy mouth.

Age Rating - 18+

Author's Note - hello hello hello!! i am back!! i had a wonderful vacation soaking up the sun, and i am feeling refreshed and ready to go. i have had so many ideas over the past few weeks, so i'm excited to get some of them written asap!! this was a fic that came to me randomly, as i was thinking about roommate!carmen and how much of a menace he'd be if you ever talked about other guys. this was written as a part of my carmen roommates collection. it doesn't follow on from Finders, Keepers or Sweet Dreams, but it does exist in the same universe - so you can decide if this takes place before or after!! as always, feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts or burning desires you have. so much love <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.

"You're back early."

Carmy had swung the door open, expecting to come home to an empty apartment. Instead, he's met with the sight of you, sitting on the couch, undoing the straps of your shoes.

"Fuckin' disaster," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

He breathes out a chuckle at the stormy look on your face. Carmy thinks you're cutest when you're angry. He aches to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb.

"That bad?" he asks, taking a seat next you and kicking off his sneakers.

"You wouldn't even believe."

He rises and makes his way to the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove top. Grabbing two mugs, he casts a glance over his shoulder at you, frowning at your body language. You look defeated.

Carmy steeps two cups of tea, placing one of them carefully into your waiting hands. He resumes his seat on the sofa, pressing his thigh against yours and turning to face you.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You think for a moment before replying.

"You're gonna laugh at me."

His face instantly crumples, confusion written all over it.

"I'll never laugh at you. I'll laugh with you, sure. But never at you."

He nudges your shoulder with his, urging you to go on.

"Okay, fine. The actual date was pretty good. He took me to that Italian place downtown-"

"Dolce Vita? Did you get the truffle pasta I told you about?" Carmy interrupts you before you can continue.

"Yes, oh my God. It was incredible. Do you think you can recreate it sometime?"

"Fuck yeah. They're pretty secretive with their recipes, but I think I can figure it out. You can help me if you want - I'm gonna need a sous chef."

He pulls a reluctant laugh from you, the sound echoing off the ceramic of your mugs. You both know that being the sous chef involves you sitting on the counter drinking wine while Carmy does all the work.

"Of course. I'll always be your sous chef."

"I'll hold you to that."

You smile at him gently, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.

"Anyway. The dinner went great. He seemed super interested in me, asked me questions, told me about his job, his hobbies, his dog. He was hot, and good to talk to. I thought I'd hit the jackpot."

"And then?"

"And then we went back to his apartment. And it all went to shit."

He chuckles, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Tell me more."

"You really want to hear about all of this?"

It's not like you and Carmy aren't close. You absolutely are. It's just that there's always been this unspoken connection between the two of you. A bubbling, fiery attraction that you both shut down repeatedly, screwing the lid on tight whenever it rears its head. So, you tend to avoid talking to Carmy about dating. You're scared you'll accidentally blurt out the truth - you compare every single date to him.

"Of course I do."

His answer is so genuine it makes you ache. You continue, hesitantly.

"Well... things got a little... heavy. He wasn't a bad kisser, I guess... he just wasn't... a good one? He kept biting my lip super hard and it kinda hurt. Then he pulled my clothes off like a high schooler, and he's on top of me, and I'm waiting for him to sort of... do... anything? And then he's finished. Like, completely done. And then he has the nerve to ask me if I finished."

Carmy's mouth has fallen open, shock etched across his face. After a long, heavy pause, he speaks.

"What the fuck?"

You look at him for moment, before bursting into contagious laughter. He joins you, both of you with your heads thrown back, giggles reverberating around the lowlit room.

"I mean, seriously," he pants, still laughing. "What the fuck?"

"I didn't even answer him. I just put my clothes on, grabbed my bag and left without saying a word."

Every time you try to stifle your laughter, a giggle escapes. The situation wasn't funny at the time, but looking back, it's hilarious.

All of a sudden, you both go silent. You're deep in thought, reflecting on the seemingly never ending stream of bad dates that you've endured. Carmy is watching you intently, ocean blue eyes glued to your face.

"Fuck," you breathe. "This is kinda pathetic."

Carmy inhales deeply, and turns his body so it's facing yours on the couch.

"The way I see it," he begins, "you have two options."

You quirk a brow in confusion and stay quiet, waiting for him to explain.

"You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or, you can let me fuck you the way you deserve."

Your mouth falls open in shock at the exact same moment your brain seems to shut down. You can't think. You can't process his words. All you can focus on is the way he's staring at you. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

"Wh-... what?" you choke out.

"You heard me, honey. You can wallow in your little pity party, or you can let me show you what it's like to be with someone who can actually make you come. Your choice."

His voice has dropped an octave lower than usual, the tone warm and honeyed. He's still staring at you, blue gaze unrelenting.

"Is this gonna fuck everything up between us?" you whisper hesitantly.

Carmy reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking careful circles into your skin.

"I don't think anything can fuck up what we have," he murmurs. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."

His confession seems to sober you up, the honesty in his words snapping you back to your senses.

"Okay."

He almost does a double take at the sureness in your voice.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Put your money where your mouth is, Carmen."

"There she is," he chuckles. "You scared me when you went quiet for a second there."

"Well, if what you say is true, you're not gonna be able to shut me up for the night."

He laughs darkly, and slides closer to you slightly.

"Oh, honey. You're gonna wish you hadn't said that."

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the journey of your neck with his fingertips. He rests his hand lightly at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it making you pant.

"If there's any point where you don't like something, or you want me to slow down, just say so. Okay?"

You nod your head, entranced by the sudden dominance he's displaying. You've never seen this side of him before. You can't believe he's been hiding it this whole time.

"Words, pretty. Need to hear you say it."

"Yes. I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."

He doesn't say anything in reply, just smirks. He lets you sit in the silence for a moment too long, the anticipation slowly killing you.

"Please, Carmen," you breathe. "Please."

"Fuck," he groans, shuffling closer to you. "You sound so pretty when you beg."

Carmy leans in and kisses your cheek gently, testing the waters. He presses a kiss to your other cheek, and pulls back to watch for your reaction. When he's happy, he tilts forward and leaves a careful kiss on your chin, then your forehead, then both of your closed eyes, before kissing you on the side of your mouth. His closeness makes you whine, desperate for him to give you what you want.

Finally, he connects his lips to yours, starting off slow and tender. When you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and try to pull him even closer, his resolve snaps. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You clamber over him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing yourself into his body.

Carmy can't decide where to put his hands. He's grabbing at your waist, running his fingers up your back, pulling you into him by your ass. You're both groaning into each others mouths, enraptured by the other person and the all consuming way they kiss.

"Can I take this off?" he asks lowly, pulling at the hem of your dress.

Instead of answering, you pull it over your head, throwing it onto the floor in front of you.

"Fuck," he murmurs. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

His hands are roaming all of your exposed skin, as if he can't get enough. He's terrified he won't ever get to see you like this again, so he's not going to waste a second.

You grind your hips down into his, eliciting a groan from the both of you. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, as he leans up to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. Your fingers fly to the hem of his t shirt, pulling it off swiftly. You manage to shove his jeans down and off, before attempting to pull off his underwear. Carmy stops you in your tracks.

"Nuh uh," he tuts. "This is about you. Not me."

He pulls you off his lap gently and shuffles so his back is resting against the couch cushions. He spreads his legs wide, and gestures for you to sit between them. When you don't move, he looks at you carefully.

"Give me a color, pretty girl."

You take a deep breath, and smile at him softly.

"Green, Carmen. Promise."

You manoeuvre sideways, so you can place yourself with your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you for a moment and holds you tightly, as if he's scared you'll disappear any second. You relax into his embrace, all the tension leaving your body. You have nothing to worry about. It's just you and Carmen, in the place you call home.

You drop your head back into Carmy's shoulder, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He's begun tracing patterns down your arms, your sides, your stomach, until he reaches your underwear. He plays with the band, dipping his finger underneath in a feather light touch. Goose bumps rise across your body and you shiver, practically vibrating with need.

"Carmen," you whisper. "Don't tease."

"But that's half the fun," he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You can picture it perfectly, too. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his mouth curves, the way he bites his lip to stifle it. The image in your mind makes you melt into him further. You want to be as close to him as you physically can be. You'd completely disappear into him if you could.

He brings you back to reality by cupping you over your underwear, groaning when he feels the saturated material.

"Oh, pretty girl. Is this all for me? Fuck."

Suddenly, his game of teasing has lost all its fun. Carmy twists his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off in one swift movement, throwing them in the general direction of your dress on the floor. He places a hand on each of your thighs and spreads them apart, hooking them over his legs.

Carmy starts off slow, careful. He caresses over your skin, gentle and almost apprehensive. When he gets to your core, he swipes a finger through, testing the waters. When you buck your hips into his hand, he knows you're both on the same page.

"Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good."

His deep, smooth, whiskey like voice is doing nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. You only whine in response, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going.

Carmy throws one arm around your stomach, keeping you plastered to his body. You can feel him hot and hard against your back, and you so desperately want to feel him that your mouth is watering. You grind back into him, and he reads your mind.

"Not yet," he whispers. "This is about you, remember? Need to show you what you've been missing."

With that, he circles your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely. He revels in the noises you elicit. They're making him dizzy, disorientated. He never thought he'd be the one to pull a sound like that from you. He's quite convinced he's dreaming.

"Let me hear you. Don't hold back on me, okay?"

You nod your head frantically, willing to give him whatever he asks if you get what you want.

Carmy slips a finger into you slowly, moaning under his breath at your warmth. When he thinks you're ready, he adds a second finger, and sets a steady rhythm, trying to figure out what you like.

After he's set his pace, he starts to curl his fingers on the up stroke, grinning to himself when he finds the spot.

"Yeah? Right there? That's it, isn't it?"

You're nodding and shaking and pawing at his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality in any way you can. You think you might be floating, on cloud 9, in some sort of euphoric trance. You can't believe no one's ever made you feel like this before. You're convinced no one ever will again.

Carmy quickens his pace and basks in the glory of your moans. He thinks this might be the most beautiful you've ever looked, spread out completely for him. Every inch of your skin is touching his, and it makes his heart skip a beat for a second.

He presses a kiss into your hair and keeps his mouth there, murmuring honeyed praises into your ear.

"Doin' so good for me."

"You got it, honey, that's it."

"Atta girl. Keep going. Almost there."

"You look so fuckin' pretty like this. Fuck. Gonna be thinking about this forever."

"I'll ruin you, baby. Nothing's ever gonna compare to this, to what we have."

All you can do is moan in response, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You're almost there, but something is stopping you. You whine in frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Carmy feels the tension suddenly grasp your muscles, and leans down to mutter to you softly.

"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need? Just tell me. Anything, and I'll give it to you."

You're not sure how much you trust your voice right now, so you decide to show him instead. You take the hand that he's using to hold you to him and move it up your body until it's resting against your throat. You tighten your fingers around his, and moan in response to the pressure.

"Oh, baby," he coos. "Filthy fuckin' girl. Here I thought you were so innocent, and this whole time you wanted to be choked like a whore?"

The way he degrades you so lovingly makes you mewl. You'd never ever trust anyone else to speak to you this way in such an intimate moment - but with Carmen, there's no hesitation. You know he's just telling you what you need to hear in the heat of the moment. And you love him for it.

"Fuck, Carmen," you manage to choke out. "Keep going. Don't stop, please."

"I'll do anything you want if you keep saying my name like that," he whispers.

"Carmen," you moan in response. "Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy."

You're chanting his name like a prayer. He's rutting into your back, hips grinding and circling in time with his fingers that are maintaining their steady rhythm. His fingers tighten around your throat as he crooks his digits just right, and the result is a devastating moan from you that Carmy wishes to have on repeat for the rest of his life.

"So close," you whisper hoarsely. "Harder."

Carmy uses his thumb to circle your clit with one hand, other hand pulling you by your neck back into him tightly. He grinds his hips dirtily into you, and the feeling of him so silky and warm against you is what sends you over the edge. The corners of your vision go white as you arch into him, head thrown backwards into his chest. The sounds you're making are so melodic, so borderline angelic that Carmy almost cries. Heaven, he thinks. This is salvation.

Carmy finishes with you, climaxing onto the soft skin of your back. You both relax simultaneously, chests heaving and panting. He removes his fingers gently and wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him tightly despite the mess. He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and the gesture is so tender it makes your lip quiver.

"Thank you," you whisper after what feels like hours of comfortable silence.

"Sorry I called you a whore," he murmurs back.

You let out a surprised laugh, vibrating with amusement in his arms.

"I know you didn't mean it."

"I mean I did give you the best orgasm of your life, so... call it even?"

"You're forgiven," you chuckle. "Completely forgiven."

You trace gentle patterns over his forearms with your fingertips, following the black ink of his tattoos. He sighs in contentment and places a kiss into your hair, relaxing further into the couch.

You sit together like that for a while, neither of you too concerned with the time. It's not often you see Carmy so relaxed, so serene. You're enjoying it for as long as you can.

"We should clean up," he says quietly, eventually. "Sorry about the mess."

"It's okay. Worth it," you tease, pinching his thigh. He pinches your side in retaliation, which makes you jump.

"Come on, trouble."

He stands from the couch, never letting go of the grip he has on you. You have no choice but to stand with him, yelping as he half carries you through the apartment towards the shower.

The sounds of both of your laughter bounce off of the abandoned mugs of tea still sat on the coffee table, melodic and joyous. The moonlight seeps through the windows, illuminating the beginning of something special in the living room of your shared apartment.

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invincibledc · 3 months ago

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SONIC!READER X FLASHBOYS/FLASHFAMILY IMAGINES AND HEADCANNONS

Heads up!: you can imagine this as human!Sonic or Sonic in genuine.

BARRY

Honestly he’s the one that’s homing you the most. You could try and hang out with the batfamily and you are put in timeout.

Literally your father figure who tries to scold you about using your speed.

You once have sped around him due to a sugar rush, and boy he held you down as you giggled crazily.

If you do that sonic spike roll where you speed off, he may not be able to stop you as you bounce a lot.

Once has you on his lap eating a chilli dog during a justice league meeting. Hal narrowed his eyes pointing to you.

“Why is he here?”

“He’s my son. If I’m here, he’s here.”

“Yah!” You said with a smug smirk as Hal glared at you.

You definitely Fortnite danced in front of him.

WALLY

Takes you to the young Justice head quarters to show off this new blue family member into the flash family.

Always buys you buckets of ice cream so you both can have ice cream eating battles

Always brings you with his hangouts with Robin when you and him weren’t with the young Justice.

Always calls you his little brother when people ask who you are.

“Wanna go to that burger joint that just opened?” “Hell yeah!”

And you both sped off in excitement.

BART

Speaks so fast as he tried to think of superhero names for you.

“What about blue bullet?! Oh oh, what about blue crash?!”

Daily racing with each other, it’s literally a ritual after every mission you both have. Nightwing had to scold you both to stop it.

Always speeding off to your favorite hotdog place to cheer you up when you’re down in the dumps.

He considers you the best friend of best friends. Sorry blue bettle! Another blue thing taken your best friend.

You both crash into each other and lay there with loud giggles! Bart and Wally could only stare at you both with either disapproval or maybe relief that you both are fine.

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cherrygirlfriend · 1 month ago

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telling lip you’re pregnant.

to say that you were nervous would be an understatement.

you and lip had been in an on-and-off relationship for a year now, your lives always too tumultuous for either of you to settle down. but this? this was something that would bind you together for life. having missed your period and going to the store for a two dollar test, going home and taking it and looking down and seeing the white stick with the pink end having two red lines meant forever.

laying down on the couch and watching real housewives of beverly hills, you heard someone inserting a key and turning it in the lock, and you instantly knew who it was.

"hey." lip voiced, and you could picture him running his hand over his buzzed head even though your gaze was fixated on the tv. you smiled when you felt his lips graze your cheek, pressing a soft kiss there, "can't believe you're watching this crap again."

you listened to his footsteps as lip went into the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbed one of the non-alcoholic beers he liked to drink when he had a rough day, a fizz coming out when he opened it.

making his way back to the living room, lip sat down at the foot of the worn-out sofa, taking your feet into his lap and absentmindedly rubbing them. he looked to you, his sand-colored brows furrowed as your eyes remained on the screen, "just spit it out. what's wrong?"

you finally looked at him, your eyes glassy with tears, glistening in the glow of the tv, "i'm pregnant."

"you're…" lip mumbled, "mine?"

you nodded, watching as the frown on his lips turned upside down, the man grabbing your face and grinning more widely than you'd ever seen. he brought his nose to yours, pressing a small peck onto your lips, your lips turning upwards; he wanted this. he wanted forever with you.

#lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher x you #lip gallagher fluff #lip gallagher fanfic #lip gallagher fanfiction #shameless #shameless fanfiction #shameless x reader #lip gallagher x y/n #lip gallagher x female!reader #jeremy allen white

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nolita-fairytale · 2 years ago

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carmen 'carmy' berzatto masterlist

Thee Carmy x Reader 'Make My Heart Surrender' Universe (In Chronological Order):

comfort & chaos (prequel to make my heart surrender)

a series of vignettes: the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you. (completed)

the phone call (blurb - the phone call that gets reader to chicago in the first place)

make my heart surrender

after quitting your job at the restaurant you both used to work at, carmy asks you to come in and work with his pastry chef at his new spot, the bear. only, the longer you stick around, it becomes clear that you have unfinished business. will one week in chicago change your life, and his, forever? (completed)

home (final chapter from comfort & chaos - **smut)

try a little tenderness (fluff & angst blurb)

cigarettes & coffee (fluffy blurb)

strawberries & cigarettes (fluffy blurb)

j is for james beard... and for jealousy (**smut oneshot | 18+ only)

your past and mine are parallel lines (fluff oneshot)

pov: carmy makes people magazine's sexiest chef alive list (fluff blurb)

bad moon rising (what if/angst-shot -- guest starring mikey berzatto)

sister-in-law (fluff oneshot -- guest starring natalie berzatto)

still into you (sequel to make my heart surrender)

you, syd, marcus, and carmy return to where it all began: new york city, prompting you and carmy to think a lot about your past... and your future together. (completed)

don't want to walk alone

the long awaited wedding fic for carmy x reader in the make my heart surrender universe. this six part series chronicles the wedding planning, your (not) bachelorette party, the wedding, and the honeymoon as you build a life with your husband-to-be. (completed)

granola blurb

carmy as your baby daddy

a social media au & headcanon series detailing your first pregnancy with carmy. created for the make my heart surrender universe, but can be read as a standalone work. this has been created in collaboration with @carmensberzattos & @allthefandomstogether , the graphic goddess. (completed)

the social media au

scenes from the relationship & this story depicted as social media posts. won't always align with my other social media/moodboards.

part one | part two: first year of dating | part three |

extras/moodboards/headcanons/imagines:

your life as a pastry chef in chicago while dating carmy (moodboard & headcanon)

meeting mikey in another lifetime (headcanon)

pov: you're marrying carmen berzatto (moodboard)

honeymoon lingerie moodboard

christmas with carmy moodboard & blurb

The Bear: Unrelated to Make My Heart Surrender:

(nothing here YET but working on it)

so my darling | sydney adamu x male!chef oc

jealous!carmy & jealous!luca headcanon

stargazing with marcus brooks (blurb)

sneaking around with carmy (blurb)

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fictionalmenmakemecry · 1 year ago

Text

Pretty Little Outfit

Characters: Carmy Berzatto x reader(fem!)

Summary: With a new job in your grasp, you decide it's time for some new work outfits. Carmy realizes that he can't get over a new skirt that you bought, only to find out you've unlocked a new kink of his.

Warnings: SMUT (fem oral), cursing, masturbation, hair pulling.

A/N: WOOOOO seeing him in the CK ad only feeds the hunger I have for him. Lord have mercy.. This man has too much of a grip on me. Let's say Carmy isn't the greatest at oral first but with a lot of practice (that I'm not against) he would have me in a chokehold. Just one night. That's all I'm asking.

Anyway.. my rant is done!

Enjoy :)

"I look ridiculous" you huffed, looking at yourself in the mirror. You self-consciously pulled at the pencil skirt that was clinging your curves.

You just got a new job and it was in the contract that formal office wear was expected. When you went into the office for the interview, you noticed no one was wearing jeans and sweaters. It was all slacks, skirts and blazers.

You had spent the day frantically running store to store trying to make a new closet for the job that you gladly accepted the previous day.

You started Monday, and you were petrified. You had experience, but you never were in such a high-end environment which you felt also had very high expectations of their employees.

You cursed to yourself as you adjusted the new bra you also bought. It was uncomfortable and tight as hell.

"Fuck" You cursed, feeling panic set in.

You turned around analyzing your clothes to realise that from the back of your white shirt, you could see your bra straps clearly. The one decent shirt you felt somewhat comfortable and it was see through.

You groaned, bringing your hands to your face. Usually, you didn't give a shit but you had a feeling HR wouldn't feel the same.

You took a deep breath in and stood up straight, looking back into the mirror.

"Good morning," you smiled brightly, pretending to lean into a handshake towards the mirror. You were trying to imagine yourself in these clothes in an unknown environment. The more you looked at yourself, the more you started to overthink.

His eyes were on you through the gap on the ajar door. His stare traveled the length of your body and paused at your hips, shifting to your ass. He bit his lip, trying to hold back any audible moan he felt climb up through his throat.

Carmy rarely ever saw you in skirts. He didn't think he had a thing for them but when he unexpectedly came home to see you in the bedroom trying on some clothes he couldn't take his eyes away.

You didn't know he was home. He felt bad spying on you, but he couldn't pull himself away.

Carmy leaned against the door frame, being careful not to make the wood creak. He watched as you bend over to grab something from the clothes bag. His eyes fell on your cleave, which showed through the reflection of the mirror. Your soft plump breasts pressing against the shirt.

He swallowed, feeling his crotch getting tighter and tighter. The material straining against his growing dick.

The thoughts that spun in his head, with your legs up on his shoulder, the skirt riding up as he drilled into you. His eyes darkened, imagining you all roughed up in your office wear. Make up smudged, skirt rolled up, shirt wrinkled. Your pretty little outfit completely fucked in. Tainted. Corrupted.

He shook his head softly, trying to clear his mind. He needed to pull himself together before he completely unraveled at the door.

You heard a gentle knock on the door. You saw Carmy enter in while looking at the mirror.

"Hi babe" you greeted, giving a soft smile.

You turned around to see his eyes locked on your body. He stood there in a white t-shirt and jeans with his arms above his head, and his mouth scrunched up like he was trying to hold himself back.

"What ya think?" You did a spin, feeling his stare.

The more he stared, the shyier you got.

"Uh y-you look unbelievable," He stuttered, raising his eyebrows.

"I don't know.. I think the skirt is too tight. I can barely walk in it"

You turned back around, showing him the back of it. To which he brought his hand to his face, trying to hide the fact he was forcefully biting his lip. Your eyes flickered to him, and in that moment, you saw the haze in his eyes.

A small smirk crept up on your face.

Your hands ran over your thighs, flattening out any wrinkles in the skirt and seeing your hands travel, wanted Carmy's hands to be there even more.

You continued to look in the mirror briefly, bringing your flirtatious stare back to him through the mirror.

"What do you think about my hair up?" You gather the ends of your hair loosely, holding it there with one hand while looking at him teasingly.

He licked his dry lips and gazed at your neck. He took a couple of steps forward, getting closer behind you. You knew you had him.

You would do it every time you were on top. As you would grind on him, you would bring your hair up the same way. It would only make he want to flip you over and get to that one weak spot you had. The one angle he knew made your shake in complete pleasure. He would feel you milk him, and he would lose it.

With that thought vivid in his head, he leans down and kisses your exposed neck gently. You felt his soft lips pressed against your hot skin.

He placed his hands on your hips and moved them down your sides while you both watched him make his way to your ass.

You let out a light gasp, feeling his grip get tighter.

"Jesus- feel what you're doing to me" He whispered in your ear. You felt goosebumps raise on the back of your neck.

He leaned in closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You felt his stiffened dick pressed against your ass. You could feel everything in this tight skirt. His stare was dripping with lust, just want your body rubbing up against his.

"Is this a new bra?" He asked flirtatiously

His hands bring your focus up to your chest, where you watch him lightly trace his finger on top of your cup.

"Mmm hmmm" you hummed, feeling like putty in his grasp.

"Can I get a better look?" He whispered, side eyeing you in the mirror.

You nodded, angling your head to the side as he kissed you a few more times down the neck. He started to unbuttoned one button after another, starting from the bottom, making his way up. With the last button popping open, the shirt gave a peek to your new bra you were wearing. The tip of his fingers gently pulled the shirt away from you, giving him full view from the mirrors reflection.

A small croak escaped his throat, and you heard him swallow, trying to hide it.

He brought his hand up to your new bra and massaged your breast while he pulled his stare up to your eyes. He watched as yours glazed over. He continued to watch you crumble in front of him. He felt you push your ass out, asking him to grind up against you more.

"Carmy... my new clothes.." You whined, feeling yourself get more lost as he felt more of you.

"Keep the skirt on" He ordered, spinning you around and bringing his hands to your face.

"But-"

"But nothing, I'll buy you a new outfit, but.. keep it on," His stare darkened as he played with your lips.

He leaned down, kissing your neck all the way down your chest. He gave wet open kisses to the top of your breasts, massaging them with both hands. You looked down and watched his curls move as he made his way further down. You felt him hike up your skirt, giving him more access to the heat between your legs.

His fingers lightly traveled up the inside of your thighs until he felt a moist patch.

"Fuck, you're all ready for me" He moaned lightly, kissing your covered pussy.

You felt his fingers move your underwear to the side, making them slick with your arousal as he played with your folds. He focused on your clit lightly making you fall into him a little, leaning on his shoulder from the welcomed pressure of his fingers.

He smirked to himself, looking up at you as he worked his fingers back and slowly slipped them in with ease. One finger teasingly first, but he could feel your hunger for the second. With ease, he added another finger.

"Oh shit," you gasped, spreading your legs more trying to hold yourself up.

"Mhmm, good girl," he praised, gently pumping his fingers out of you.

One of your hands went to his hair, and you placed the other one flat against the wall.

Your breath only got more and more shakey. You looked down and watched him bringing his mouth your clit. The sole sight made you pulse. You felt his soft lips pressed against wet ones. His relaxed tongue licking your sensitive bud. Your whole body quivered underneath his tender touch.

You felt yourself building, the pleasurable rhythm his fingers moved at and him sucking your clit made you fight against the urge of climbing higher and higher. You closed your eyes and listened to the wet sounds he was making with his mouth.

Fingers on his other hand were digging into your thigh, holding you steady. His curls tickled your abdomen with every movement he made.

Him watching you above only made him harder. He wanted you to let go. He opened his mouth, giving you wet kisses on your clit, with some light sucking. He pulled away and watched the mess you were. Your chest heaving, your hair tossed, and your brows furrowed with pleasure. He could stare at you forever like this.

"Use me." He breathed out

You opened your eyes to see him gazing up at you. His eyes flickered down to his hand, while his fingers continued to disappear in you.

"W-what?" You stuttered, it getting harder and harder for you to concentrate.

"Use me," He repeated, staring at you with his blown out pupils.

He placed his free hand on top yours that was in his hair. You felt him tighten your grip on his hair.

A grunt came out of his mouth and in that moment, you realized he liked his hair getting pulled.

Your mouth fell open to the thought of him being at your mercy. You watched as he eagerly brought his mouth back to pulsing core.

His tongue lovingly licking your bundle of nerves, with his lips wrapping around and sucking every so often. He could feel your wall gripping onto his fingers. He knew you were close.

"Carmyyy.." You whined, gripping onto his curls.

You felt yourself slowly start to grind your hips into him. A muffled groan came from him, the sound traveling straight to your clit. You fumbled, feeling it travel up your spine.

You felt his hand lift your leg over his shoulder, bringing him deeper into your folds. His finger tips traveled up and down your thigh as he devoured your pussy.

He watched you whimpering out and calling out his name weakly. He couldn't resist, and brought his hand down, palming his harden self in his tight jeans. He hastily unbuckled and unzipped them, giving him a little bit of relief and ease of access. Calvin Klein briefs peeked out from the undone jeans and were stretched against his bulge. He felt the moistness in his underwear from the continuous leaking cock. He half-ass pulled out it, giving himself some relieving strokes from the sight of you fucking his face.

With his sucks and kisses getting sloppier, he passionately focused on your throbbing pussy. He knew you couldn't last much longer. Hell, he wasn't going to last much longer. He pulled his hand away from his begging erection and wrapped his arm around your thigh. He gently nursing your throbbing clit with his tongue. Slowly, he added his index finger, feeling your lips suck them in as he pumped more.

You looked down and saw his blue love-drunken eyes on you, with a smirk on his face. He started angling his hand, sending another wave through you.

"Oh god.." You cried out, leaning more of your weight on to him.

He pulled his glistening mouth away, "Come f'me," His breath rugged and heavy.

"Carrmmyy-"

"Ssshhh, come on baby girl" He rasped, kissing your inner thigh.

You couldn't fight it anymore. You felt the pressure of pleasure build fast.

"Keep g-goin'" you whined, your hands tangled in his hair.

He leaned in and went back to sucking your clit. He felt your hips faulter feeling his tongue there again. Your thrusts became more desperate as you chased the high that he was inflicting on your pussy. He looked up seeing your mouth open in pure ecstasy.

You felt his fingers hit that one spot over and over again and mixed with his tongue lapping up your clit, you couldn't hold on any longer.

"Carm- Babe... I'm comin-" You gasped, your grip tightening on his hair.

He hungrily devouring your pussy, sucking on your clit and lips as your legs shook around him.

As he watched you fall apart in front of him, he couldn't hold back anymore. He impulsively brought his hand down to his weeping cock and stroked himself eagerly while lapping up your juices. He felt you tug his hair harder, and with that he let out a pleasurable moan.

The wave washed over you with the tension in your body melting away with orgasm. Your head fell back, breathing rapidly, trying to recover from the rush that was still flowing in your veins.

Your eyes fluttered open, and fell on Carmy below you gently kissing your outer lips before easing his fingers out of you, his hand completely covered in your juices. He pecked your inner thigh a couple of times before bringing your leg down from his shoulder.

As he pulled away from you, your eyes landed on white globs all over the bottom of his white t-shirt.

"Babe... Did you?" You asked a cheeky smile crept up on your face.

"Yea- Yeah I did" He looked down and chuckled.

You leaned down bringing him into a kiss, tasting yourself off of him. His tongue brushing against yours. With him still on his knees, he gently pulled down, the now, wrinkled pencil skirt.

"I think I owe you a skirt" He grinned, as you helped him up to his feet,

"I think so." You looked down, flattening the wrinkled with both hands.

"Are you going to be wearing skirts every day?" He raised an eyebrow, playing with the buttons on your shirt.

"Uh.. Most likely"

He sucked in his lips and glanced away for a moment.

"That's going to be hard" He hummed bringing his blue eyes back down to yours.

"I'll make sure it won't be an issue" You winked before giggling

A smile played on his lips before he leaned into give you a tender kiss.

"Here, let's get this off," you tugged the bottom of his t-shirt.

He raised his arms, letting you slip the shirt off of him and being met with his toned chest that only made you want to go for round two.

You could feel your sensitive pussy murmur awake from the thought of him bending you over and railing you. The thought made your stomach twist with excitement.

"C'mon, let's go take a shower" You teasingly smiled, and grabbed his undone belt that was still wrapped around his jeans making him follow you to the bathroom obediently.

Masterlist of fics

#fanfic #fluff #smut #fanfiction #love #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #the bear #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy x reader #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #jeremy allen white #the bear fanfiction #the bear fic #the bear fx

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bunji-enthusiast · 2 months ago

Note

Could you do something similar to the one where we’re rocket but instead spider man for the invincible characters.

Just a Friendly Neighborhood Spider

A/N… spider, spider spideyyy— spiders scare the hell out of meeeee; but Spider-Man is nice. I don’t know if I got issues there but eh— anyway that’s my two cents. Content is the generally same here.

Canon-divergent themes, included mention of spider-mans common backstory, mentions of past stress, found-family, platonic relationships, their asses does not know how your still okay as a hero

Cecil Stedman

You and Cecil meet under unusual circumstances—Cecil approached you after hearing about you from various sources. He’s heard of a new vigilante with superhuman abilities running around, and while you aren’t a part of an official superhero league, Cecil sees potential.

Your first encounter is awkward. You swing in and lands on top of a building, ready for a fight, expecting a confrontation with someone shady. Instead, Cecil stands calmly with his arms crossed, unimpressed by your acrobatics.

You’re skeptical about Cecil at first. Having heard of the Global Defense Agency and their somewhat questionable methods. The whole "ends justify the means" thing doesn't sit well with you, especially considering how you strive to avoid doing anything that could harm innocents.

Cecil’s cold, detached demeanor and history with morally gray areas leave you wary. You don't know if you can trust him.

Cecil sees you as a wild card, a loose cannon who’s more concerned with your own morality than the big picture. Despite this, he respects your abilities and quick thinking. He doesn’t necessarily see you as a “good guy” yet but is intrigued by the potential in you.

Cecil knows how to read people, and while he doesn't immediately trust you, he knows that your ideals of responsibility might align with his own goals if managed correctly. However, Cecil believes you could be more effective if you were willing to make the hard choices. More often to be specific.

You start to clash with Cecil’s utilitarian mindset. As a spider person, you believe in the sanctity of life and refuse to cross certain lines—something Cecil sees as naïve. He tries to show you that sometimes, making hard decisions for the greater good is necessary, even if it involves casualties or compromising one's morals.

Cecil certainly doesn’t mince his words when explaining his viewpoint: "You want to save the world? Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made. You can’t save everyone, and you definitely can't save the world by being nice all the time."

You however, refuse to let go of your principles. Your determined to show Cecil that you don’t have to compromise what’s right to do what’s needed. You have intense conversations, especially after your encounters with more dangerous foes.

Cecil doesn’t back down either. He will occasionally use manipulation, even flattery, to try and convince you that your idealism is impractical. But you, with your strong sense of justice, aren't easily swayed.

While Cecil is known for his cold, calculated persona, it becomes clear that there’s more to him than meets the eye. In private moments, Cecil reveals his deeper feelings about protecting humanity. He genuinely cares, but his trauma and experiences have shaped him into someone willing to make sacrifices for the sake of the bigger picture.

He often has conversations with you that show he’s not all heartless. He’ll explain the importance of taking the necessary steps to protect those who might not understand the bigger threats.

After a particularly difficult mission where you failed to save someone you promised you would, you had a conversation with Cecil about the weight of responsibility.

You confess your guilt, admitting that every time you fail, it feels like Uncle Ben’s death is haunting you all over again. Cecil listens quietly before offering his perspective. “The difference between us, [Name], is that I don’t have the luxury of guilt. I make decisions and live with them. That’s the price of leadership.”

While this doesn’t sit well with you, it pushes you to think about your own role and how you can grow as a hero—without compromising your values.

Cecil sees potential in you as a leader, especially after some tough encounters with dangerous supervillains. However, he takes a reluctant approach to mentoring you, not wanting to directly influence you but recognizing that you could one day play a pivotal role in global defense.

He offers advice sparingly, making sure to always emphasize that decisions need to be made for the greater good. When you don't take the advice, Cecil is quick to point out, “It’s your choice. But remember, the world won’t wait for you to figure it out.”

In moments when you're frustrated or feeling overwhelmed, Cecil has a tendency to give “tough love” in the form of biting commentary. For example: “The world’s full of heroes who think they can do it all without paying a price. But in the end, the world won’t remember the cost—only the result. If you want to be a hero, you need to stop acting like a kid.”

This drives you to prove that you can handle the responsibility without losing sight of what’s right.

While your methods may differ, both you and Cecil are fighting for the same thing: the protection of Earth and its people. However, Cecil’s willingness to make ethically questionable decisions contrasts with your idealism.

At some point, your paths will cross on a major mission. Cecil, taking the lead, might make a decision that you cannot morally back, and you will have to decide whether to stand by him or go against him for the first time.

This moment will be a significant turning point in your allyship, where you have to define the kind of hero you want to be, while Cecil demonstrates the brutal pragmatism required to safeguard humanity from destruction.

Over time, despite the philosophical differences, both you and Cecil begin to develop a mutual respect for each other. You recognize the weight Cecil carries as a leader and the difficult choices he must make. On the other hand, Cecil begins to see the value in your perseverance and the fact that sometimes, holding on to the ideals of kindness and empathy can be just as powerful as cold efficiency.

You’d first met Cecil under tense circumstances—another mission where Cecil’s pragmatism clashed hard with your morals. That first meeting had left a bitter taste in your mouth, like biting into a sour apple and wondering if it was worth the effort.

“Do you even care about the people you're saving?” You had asked once, all fired up after Cecil made yet another morally grey decision. "Or are they just pawns in your game?"

Cecil’s response had been cold, almost clinical: “There are no pawns. Just pieces. The game is bigger than you think.”

At the time, you had thought it was a load of nonsense. That was before you started seeing the sacrifices Cecil had made, the risks he’d taken, and the toll it had all taken on him.

There was something about the way Cecil carried himself now—his quiet confidence, his hardened demeanor—that you could finally understand. It wasn’t cruelty. It was survival. It was the unbearable burden of keeping the world from falling apart at the seams.

“Maybe I was wrong about you,” You muttered under your breath, pulling your mask down and letting the city lights reflect in your lenses. The words felt strange, foreign even, but true.

Cecil was no saint, but who was? Certainly not you, who had made your fair share of mistakes. You’d learned that sometimes saving the day meant getting your hands dirty and making decisions you didn't like. Decisions where the right thing to do wasn't always clear.

Allen The Alien

You were just an ordinary high school student before everything changed. One night, you were bitten by a radioactive spider, and it flipped your whole world upside down. You had no idea what was happening to you at first, but that spider bite unlocked powers you never could have dreamed of.

At first, you were just trying to have some fun. You didn't have a clear purpose. You used your powers for personal gain, participating in wrestling matches and showing off to your friends. You didn't take it seriously. Until that day.

The day you let that burglar slip away, you didn't think much of it. After all, you weren't a superhero back then—just a guy with new powers. But then you heard it. That scream. Uncle Ben was gone.

That was the turning point for you. You felt that pain in your chest like you couldn't breathe, and it was all your fault. "With great power comes great responsibility." Those words hit harder than any punch ever could.

From then on, you dedicated yourself to fighting crime. You were no longer just a guy swinging through the city for fun. You had a responsibility now, a promise to make things right. You couldn’t let anyone else suffer like you did.

Enter Allen the Alien. You first met him during one of your many encounters with cosmic-level threats. Allen was this huge, orange, muscular alien with a penchant for humor. He showed up on Earth, and, boy, was he different from the usual villains or threats you faced.

"You know, Earthlings really love their fast food... but you should try something out of this world!" His light-hearted humor was one thing, but the guy was undeniably strong. You could feel the raw power just by being in the same room as him.

At first, you didn’t know what to think of Allen. He was from another planet, part of the Coalition of Planets, and you had more than enough to worry about with your own problems. But, after a while, you started to see the heart beneath that tough exterior.

Allen was a warrior through and through, but he also had this sense of responsibility that you could relate to. He didn't take lightly the weight of his actions, even if he joked around to mask the seriousness of things.

"Yeah, I was born to fight the Viltrumites, but you... you remind me of something. You’ve got that 'do the right thing no matter the cost' vibe. I can respect that.”

His story was different from yours, but there was a part of it that resonated. He was born to fight, bred for a purpose that didn’t even involve him. You both understood what it meant to have a higher responsibility, even when the odds were stacked against you.

One thing that always stood out to you was how quickly Allen adapted. He healed faster than you could blink, shrugging off injuries that would have been fatal to anyone else. Maybe he was born with that, but you were learning to adapt in your own way, too.

Even when Allen faced down the Viltrumites, he never lost his sense of humor. "You know, when I was growing up, I thought ‘intergalactic space wars’ would be way more fun."

Over time, you learned a lot from Allen. His sheer strength and resilience were beyond anything you could imagine, but it wasn’t just that. It was his resolve that stuck with you. No matter how tough things got, he kept moving forward. Maybe that was the real lesson you needed to learn—no matter how many times you fall, you get back up.

You both faced different kinds of battles, but you were learning how to face them together. Allen had a strange way of making even the toughest situations feel a little lighter. "I’ve faced cosmic threats, but nothing compares to dodging traffic in New York!"

It wasn’t always about throwing punches or swinging webs; sometimes it was about being there for someone, even if they came from a totally different world. You weren’t just a high school student with superpowers anymore. You were part of something bigger.

Every time you suit up as Spider-Man, you feel a little stronger, not just physically, but mentally too. Allen helped you realize that responsibility isn't something you just take on for the moment—it’s something you carry forever. It’s about being the kind of hero the world needs, even when you feel like you’re not enough.

"You may not have the cosmic power I do, kid, but you’ve got the heart. And that's what matters." Allen’s words echo in your mind as you swing through the city, always searching for that next villain to stop, that next person to save. You're not just Spider-Man. You're a hero, and you won't let anyone forget it.

"I feel like I’m going to break something in here," he said, his voice echoing slightly as he adjusted himself.

"You’ll be fine," you teased, taking a seat across from him. "Just... don’t crush anything. Joe’s already nervous about you."

Moments later, a piping-hot pizza was placed in front of you. The cheese was bubbling, the pepperoni crisped perfectly, and the crust had that golden-brown edge that only the best places could achieve. You slid a slice onto your plate, taking in the first bite.

It was perfect.

"Okay, Allen," you said, mouth half full. "The moment of truth. You’ve got to try this."

He hesitated for a moment, eyeing the slice, but you could see the curiosity building. He lifted a piece carefully, his three-fingered hand gripping the crust. You watched, eager to see his reaction.

Allen took a bite. Then another. His large eye widened slightly, and you could swear you saw a little hint of surprise. "Hmm... this is... actually good. Really good!"

"I told you!" You leaned back in your chair, satisfied. "It’s simple, but it’s amazing. Joe's been perfecting this recipe for decades."

Allen grinned, taking another bite. "You Earthlings have a lot of surprises up your sleeves. I’m starting to think this pizza might be the real power behind your superhero antics."

You laughed, wiping your mouth with a napkin. "You might be onto something. A good slice can keep me going for days. But, you know, it’s not just about the food. It’s about the experience. The vibe of the place. It’s... it's home."

Allen looked around, clearly taking it all in now. "I see what you mean. This isn’t just a meal; it’s... part of your culture. I think I’m starting to understand Earth a little better now."

You both sat in companionable silence for a while, just eating and talking. Allen, despite his cosmic origins, had a way of making everything feel casual, light, and fun. He didn’t come off as intimidating or aloof. He was just a guy, sharing a meal, listening to the hum of the jukebox in the background.

Eventually, you finished up the pizza, and the conversation drifted from food to bigger things. His experiences as part of the Coalition, the time he spent fighting off the Viltrumites, and the crazy things he’d encountered in outer space. For all his power, there was an undeniable kindness to him, a desire to connect and understand.

As you both stood up to leave, you slapped him on the back. "Glad you liked it. I know it’s not cosmic cuisine, but it’s got its charm, right?"

Allen chuckled, dusting off the crumbs from his shirt. "I think I’m gonna need more of this Earth pizza. You might just have a new convert to your side, Spider-Man."

You smirked. "That’s the spirit. Welcome to Earth, buddy."

Mark Grayson

You were always the responsible one—even before you donned the mask. You were that student who was always on time, worked hard, and tried to balance everything. Your Uncle Ben’s passing shifted everything for you, but the weight of responsibility was something you accepted easily, considering your powers.

You remember your first fight as Spider-Man like it was yesterday. It wasn’t about saving lives at first—it was about the spectacle, the fame. You were just a kid with newfound abilities, using them for personal gain. But that all changed after Uncle Ben’s death. That moment, the one you could have stopped, became a reminder of what happens when power is used recklessly.

You’d still feel the guilt sometimes, even though you’ve saved more lives than you can count since then. Every time you see a criminal slip through the cracks or a life lost because you weren’t fast enough—it takes you back to that night.

You keep going though, for Ben. His words echo in your mind every day: "With great power comes great responsibility." It’s a lesson you learned the hard way, and one you’d make sure no one else would forget.

When it comes to Mark Grayson, though... you get it. You understand where he’s coming from. You both share a similar weight on your shoulders. The responsibility of being a hero isn’t just about power—it’s about making the tough decisions, even if they tear you apart.

You’ve faced difficult choices yourself. Killing a villain is something you’ve never wanted to do, but there are times when you’ve come close. You were ready to let your rage consume you, like when you went head-to-head with the likes of Venom or the Green Goblin. But you always held back. You weren’t going to be that kind of hero.

But Mark? His struggle is real. You’ve seen him go through the emotional turmoil of having to take a life—or the temptation to. His father's influence weighs heavily on him, and you can’t help but wonder how similar you two are in that regard. You’ve both had to make impossible choices, torn between what’s right and what’s necessary.

That’s the thing about being a hero, though—you never really know if you're making the right call. Every time you step into the fray, there's a chance you might make a mistake. But like you told yourself the day you became Spider-Man, you keep fighting because if you don’t, who will?

Seeing Mark struggle with that line between mercy and vengeance makes you realize you’re not alone in your doubts. There’s this heavy responsibility that you both bear, and it’s a burden that doesn't get any easier with time. You sometimes think back to your early days, before you fully understood the consequences of your actions, and wonder how different things could’ve been if you’d made different choices.

You understand his anger. The feeling of losing someone close, especially when a villain is directly responsible for it—it's something that hits too close to home. But even in those moments of pure rage, you remind yourself that you're not your enemy. Neither is Mark. You can't let your pain define who you are, and neither can he. But there are days when you both forget that.

You don’t have all the answers, but you know one thing for sure: it’s a struggle, and the right choice isn’t always the easiest one. Mark will figure it out in time, just like you did. But right now? He's learning the same lesson you did when you were his age: sometimes being a hero means losing pieces of yourself along the way.

You both deal with pressure differently. You wear a mask, but Mark—he has to carry the weight of his father’s legacy in plain sight. He doesn’t get to hide behind a disguise the way you do. That has to be tough.

But that’s the difference between you two. Even though you’ve had your fair share of struggles, you never lost sight of what it meant to protect the innocent. Mark, on the other hand, is walking that line between vengeance and justice. You’ve seen the toll it’s taken on him, and you don’t want him to make the same mistakes you did.

You keep fighting. For Ben. For Mark. For everyone you’ve promised to protect. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll be there to help him when the weight of it all threatens to break him, like it almost did to you.

Because at the end of the day, you're both just trying to do the right thing in a world that often doesn’t make it easy to know what that is.

Despite your different circumstances, you both understood that being a hero meant sacrifice. And more often than not, the most painful sacrifices weren’t physical—they were emotional.

"Do you ever think about giving it up?" Mark once asked, his voice heavy with the burden of the question. You sat next to him, a slight breeze ruffling the edges of your mask. It had been a slow night—no danger on the horizon. But that didn’t make things feel any less tense.

You looked over at him, eyes meeting his with a level of understanding you couldn’t explain. "Sometimes. Yeah. I mean, who wouldn’t? It’s exhausting. And the more you try to do right, the more you see how wrong everything really is. But then you realize you can’t just walk away from it."

Mark nodded, his gaze shifting to the city below. "Yeah. My dad said something like that to me. But... I don't know, sometimes it feels like I’m becoming the thing I’m supposed to be fighting. Like every time I get stronger, I’m just moving closer to losing myself."

You were silent for a moment. You hadn’t heard Mark speak like this in a while, so openly about the fear that his power might become too much for him to control. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling.

"I get it," you said finally, your voice quiet. "The more you grow into this, the more you realize that power—whether you’re ready for it or not—can change you. And yeah, sometimes you wonder if you're losing pieces of yourself along the way." You paused. "But here's the thing, Mark: It’s not about whether or not you lose yourself. It’s about who you become in the process. Whether you stay true to what matters—whether you choose to keep fighting, no matter how hard it gets. You won’t be the same person at the end of this. But that doesn’t mean you won’t be someone worth being."

Mark gave you a glance, a small, tired smile forming on his face. “Yeah. I know. It’s just… hard.”

You let out a breath and clapped him lightly on the back. "Tell me about it. I still don't have all the answers. But we're doing the best we can, right?"

Mark laughed softly, shaking his head. "I guess so. Just wish it didn’t feel like I’m always a step behind."

The Immortal

You are Spider-Man. You’re not just the friendly neighborhood superhero; you’re also [Name] [Surname], a student who took up the mantle of Spider-Man after the tragic loss of your Uncle Ben. You’d never forget his words: “With great power comes great responsibility.” That lesson is the core of who you are now, even if it took you a while to realize it.

At first, you used your powers for selfish reasons: showing off, making money, entertaining crowds. But your world shattered when the very burglar you let go wound up killing Uncle Ben. That moment... it changed you forever. You learned that having powers wasn’t just about what you could do; it was about what you should do.

You feel a sense of duty to protect the innocent. It’s a lesson you learned the hard way, but one you carry with you every day. You’ve been through so much—fighting criminals, dodging bullets, and juggling school—but you can’t ever let yourself forget: You’re here to help people, no matter the cost.

The city might see you as a nuisance or a freak sometimes, but it doesn't matter. You put on the mask because that’s what Uncle Ben would’ve wanted. It’s why you keep swinging from skyscraper to skyscraper, fighting crime, and occasionally getting your butt handed to you by villains who don’t know when to quit.

You wear your guilt like a weight. The loss of Uncle Ben will never leave you. Every victory, every villain you defeat, it’s all a way to try and make up for your failure. That’s why you never let your guard down. You’ve made mistakes, and those are scars you wear on your soul.

You see people suffer, and you think: If only I’d stopped that one burglar, maybe none of this would’ve happened. But you can’t undo the past, can you? The only thing left to do is to keep fighting. Keep making sure that no one else experiences what you did. No one else should have to live with that kind of regret.

You’re not the only hero out there. You’ve crossed paths with others—like the Immortal—and you can’t help but feel both awe and fear. Immortal is a being who has lived for millennia, seeing history unfold before his eyes. His long life is a double-edged sword; he’s experienced more loss than anyone should have to. He’s seen entire civilizations rise and fall, but you can tell that it’s breaking him down bit by bit.

Sometimes you wonder what it would be like to live that long. Would you even want to? To see the world you love change over and over, to see everyone around you age while you stay the same? Immortal has been there, and though he’s strong, you see the cracks in his demeanor. The pain. The loneliness. Even a hero as powerful as him isn’t immune to the effects of time.

You and Immortal, you’re not so different. Both of you have experienced loss—immense loss—that’s shaped who you are today. You understand what it’s like to carry the weight of a loved one’s death. You don’t have immortality, but you’ve had to make peace with your mortality.

Immortal, despite his immortality, seems like he’s lost something you can never truly understand. The sheer weight of his past lives seems to haunt him in ways that you can't fathom. He’s spent so many years fighting that it's not clear if he’s ever had a chance to just… live. It's hard to not feel a little sorry for him, even though you know he's a warrior through and through.

You’ve had your own brushes with psychological trauma. Not quite like Immortal, but close enough. Every time you’re in a fight, every time a loved one is in danger, the memory of Uncle Ben resurfaces. That moment, where you stood by and did nothing, gnaws at you. It’s not something you can ever fully escape. But in a way, it drives you. You can’t afford to fail again.

Immortal’s PTSD hits different though. When he returned after Omni-Man killed him, it was as if the very foundation of his existence had cracked. You’ve seen that rage in his eyes, the same kind of madness that comes from living centuries. You wonder how someone can hold on to their humanity for so long.

You try not to dwell on your losses. You’ve lost friends, sure, but you’ve also gained a few. Like Mary Jane, or even the occasional team-up with other heroes. But Immortal... he’s had too many relationships to count, and each one has left him with a piece of his heart shattered.

His relationship with Dupli-Kate is one you can relate to. Losing her must’ve felt like the last straw. But when he saw her alive again, you could tell that something inside him shifted. It’s like a weight was lifted, but you could see the fragility in his eyes. Even immortality can’t protect him from the emotional toll of loss.

Sometimes, you wish you could be more like Immortal. You know that might sound strange. After all, he's got centuries of experience, unmatched power, and the ability to bounce back from almost anything. But the truth is, he’s experienced so much that he’s become hardened, disconnected, and, at times, borderline nihilistic. You’ve seen how being alone in the world for so long has affected him.

You might be dealing with your own struggles, but at least you’ve got people who care about you—people like Aunt May, Mary Jane, even your classmates at school. You might not have immortality, but you have something he might’ve lost: the ability to connect, to have a life beyond your role as a hero.

You are Spider-Man, but you're also [Name] [Surname]. There’s a difference. While you juggle school, friends, and family, your role as Spider-Man often has you questioning whether you can keep it all together. Immortal’s existence has been shaped by countless lives, but your life is still in the making. You’re trying to figure it out as you go, but you know one thing for sure: You’ll never stop fighting.

You have your own reason for fighting, for carrying that weight, and even when you’re exhausted, when you feel like you’re about to break, you know that you’re never truly alone. At least, not yet.

In the end, it's about the people you save. That’s what keeps you going. You look at someone like Immortal, who has been through more than you can imagine, and you realize: He might never truly have peace, but you can still find a way to make a difference. You won’t give up, even when the odds seem impossible. Because, like Uncle Ben taught you, with great power comes great responsibility. And you’ll carry that burden with pride, no matter what.

You’ve crossed paths with him a few times, but this time... there was something different about him. His posture wasn’t regal or composed as usual. He seemed... tired. Worn. Even in the air, the weight of centuries seemed to hang on his broad shoulders.

You landed beside him, the air crackling with the sound of your webbing connecting to the wall of the nearby building.

“Everything alright, Immortal?” you asked, your voice casual but laced with curiosity.

He turned to face you, his piercing blue eyes softening slightly when they met yours. There was a flicker of recognition, but also something else—something raw, like a man who had lived far too long without a true friend.

“I suppose you could say I’m... trying to figure it all out,” he replied, his voice deep and gravely, tinged with the weight of a life lived far beyond your years.

“You and me both,” you said with a small smile. “I mean, sure, I’ve only been at this whole ‘superhero’ thing for a few years, but still... figuring things out is kind of my thing.”

Immortal chuckled softly, a sound you didn’t expect from him, given his usual stoic demeanor.

“Tell me, Spider-Man,” he began, his voice tinged with curiosity. “Do you ever wonder... what it’s all for? After everything I’ve seen, after all the loss and pain, I can’t help but wonder what the purpose is. I’ve lived longer than most could ever dream, but all I’ve gained is an unrelenting sense of... emptiness.”

You hesitated for a moment, looking up at him. He was right—he’d lived for centuries, witnessed the rise and fall of entire civilizations, but it was clear that what had weighed him down wasn’t just the physical battles he’d faced. It was the emotional toll, the endless cycle of loss that had left him scarred.

“I think I get what you mean,” you said, your voice thoughtful. “I don’t have centuries of experience like you do, but I know what it’s like to lose someone. My uncle... he taught me that you have to keep moving forward, even when the world feels like it’s falling apart. But you know what? I’ve realized something.” You paused, gathering your thoughts, the words coming to you more easily than you expected.

“You don’t have to carry the weight alone. I know that might sound cliché, but... you can still find purpose in the smallest of moments. In helping someone on the street, in protecting the people you care about. Sometimes... that’s enough. It’s not about fixing everything, Immortal. It’s about finding meaning in the little things that make life worth living.”

The Immortal looked at you, his expression hard to read. There was a long silence between you two, a silence that stretched like an old memory trying to form itself into something new.

“You might be right, Spider-Man,” he finally said, his voice a little softer now. “I’ve spent so much time looking at the big picture—fighting wars, saving worlds—that I’ve forgotten what it means to just... live. To be present. Maybe I’ve been so focused on the idea of purpose that I’ve missed the joy in it all.”

You could feel the shift in him, like a weight lifting just a little. The Immortal wasn’t a man of many words, and yet you’d somehow managed to break through to him. Maybe it was your youthful optimism, or maybe it was just your perspective—one that hadn’t been soured by centuries of fighting. But it seemed like he was seeing things differently now.

“Maybe... you could teach me something then,” he said after a beat. “I’ve been so focused on what I can do with my powers, I’ve never stopped to think about what I should do.”

“I think we all get caught up in that sometimes,” you replied, your smile growing a little wider. “It’s easy to forget why we fight in the first place. But it’s about more than just saving the day or taking down bad guys. It’s about the people we protect, the lives we touch.”

Immortal nodded slowly, as if considering your words.

“You speak of people, Spider-Man... of connections,” he said, his tone distant, like he was searching for something in his own mind. “You’re right. I’ve lost so much, and I’ve built walls to protect myself from the pain. But I’m not sure I understand... love. The kind of love that bonds people, that makes them fight for each other, sacrifice for one another.”

You were quiet for a moment, considering how to respond. It was clear that Immortal had never really understood the nuances of love—not in the way you had. You, with your aunt May, your friends, and your own quiet relationships with people who meant something to you. You’d learned what love could be—the deep, unconditional connection that went beyond time and power.

“Love’s a funny thing, Immortal,” you began, your voice gentle. “It’s not always easy. It’s messy. Sometimes, it’s a simple touch, a shared moment. Other times, it’s something so deep, it feels like it’ll break you. But it’s also what makes life worth living. It’s what makes us human, even if we’re not... well, human.”

The Immortal let out a soft laugh, shaking his head slightly.

“You make it sound... simple. But I can see that for you, love isn’t just a fleeting feeling. It’s something that drives you. I’ve watched you, Spider-Man. The way you protect those you care about, the way you show up when others wouldn’t. It’s not power that defines you, it’s heart. And that’s something I’ve forgotten, over the years. The need to care. To love. To let others in.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You’d never thought of it like that—like love was the thing that tied everything together, like it was the thread that held it all up. But as you stood there, staring at the Immortal—this being who had lived for centuries, witnessed entire lifetimes come and go—you realized something.

Love had kept you going. Your love for Aunt May, your friends, your city. It was why you kept fighting, even when everything seemed impossible.

“I think you’re closer to understanding it than you think,” you said, offering him a soft smile. “Love isn’t just romantic or familial. It’s the bond we form with everyone, even the people we save. It’s what makes life so special, even when it seems endless and lonely. It’s what makes everything you’ve done matter. You’ve saved so many lives, Immortal. You may not see it, but that’s love too.”

The Immortal was silent, staring at you with a mix of admiration and introspection. His posture, which had once been stiff and burdened with the weight of the world, now seemed more relaxed, more thoughtful.

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dalcga · 3 months ago

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HERE WITH ME

carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem! reader

‍ masterlist ︱ home

synopsis;— life to Carmy and how it revolves around her in small instances, moments and glimpses. warnings;— slight/barely any angst, longing, so much fluff, age gap if you want?, domestic asf, cursing, profanity, established..ish relationship?, s2-s3 the bear, Fem! reader notes;— been a while since i wrote, im obsessed with this angry little chef again. Here With You by d4vd while writing this left my keyboard soaked with happy tears.... pls listen to it while you read. rating;— M [mature] word count;— 1.9k

It was just some random day when he met her. He remembers it though, he was at the market. She was there. Bundled in a jacket, some college pull over and a really nice pair of jeans. Damn him for being a collector, but he couldn't help but stare.

Did he have that pair?

Had he seen these before?

It was for far too long because the girl turned and saw him eyeing her. What the fuck.

"Do I really look that good? If you want to stare all day, just ask for a picture." Her voice was sharp, accusatory as she placed her hands on her hips and glared at him.

"What? No, no no. I-It's not what it looks like-"

"Yea? It looks like I just caught you fucking oogling over my ass, dickwad."

"No! No no! It's the jeans! I uh... I collect jeans and they look real nice!"

People started glancing and she cocked her brow.

"Jeans.... you collect jeans."

"Yeah... just a hobby or whatever."

Her eyes narrowed and sighed, "Orslo jeans. The standard ones."

His lips quirked, "Orslo... They look like their 1930's ones."

'What a weirdo,' She thought with a smile.

She was making some apple chutney brie tart. Didn't know what apple would go best. He helped her. For days he never stopped thinking about her. There was nothing extraordinary about her, at least to everyone in the world. He just wanted to know more, because this girl was cool. Cool in a sense she lit up the stalls with her smile. Cool because she knew her jeans. Cool because she was very particular on choosing the brie she liked, not what would go best with her apples. Cool because she remembered him the second time they met.

And like that, twice a week, Wednesday and Sunday, they would meet and get groceries. She would talk about how she liked to cook and how she for some reason could never bake chocolate chip cookies, how she was still looking for the perfect pizza in Chicago.

For weeks they would shop. For weeks he would listen to her about everything and nothing. She knew he was a cook and she asked him to come over.

"Want to come by for dinner? Tonight? I-I got some stuff I can make, but I don't wanna offend you with my cooking."

He laughed. He laughed because he hadn't in a long time felt this giddy.

"Im serious! You're some hot shot chef, I like making mac n cheese with too much chili peppers on top... but... I'd like for you to come over. Would that be okay?"

"Yea, that sounds good. What time? I can come by and help if you want?"

She didn't want him to help. She wanted to impress him. She really did.

"If you come any time before 6, you better bring a bottle of wine. I want to cook tonight, you just.... sit and be pretty."

"Pretty, you want me to be pretty."

She shrugged as they headed out, "Yea, you and those baby blue eyes."

She was a force that somehow managed to pull out every laugh he had. From the faces she made at the smallest mistakes, to the way her nose wrinkled whenever smelled something she didn't like, to the way her cheeks were full with joy when she was happy.

And he did come before six. He didn't know what kind of meat she had, so he brought both white and red. And he did sit and look pretty for her. Black capped tee with relaxed jeans. As big as a perfectionist as he was, he found it endearing with the oddly shaped vegetables and mess everywhere. And still, she had not a speck on her simple black dress. She spoke so animatedly as she cooked, hand on hip as the lined cross back apron swished around her.

From what he remembered, she burnt the potatoes and made her steak a bit too rare. But all that mattered was that they were together. She laughed it off, embarrassed, but he didn't care. It was good. Being with her made everything taste good. Life was so sweet that the bitterness of the potatoes faded away.

"I liked it." Was all he said and she couldn't help the smile.

They kissed that night. They fell into bed that night. And from then on, it was like that always. The warmth, the joy, the complete and utter mistakes they made were nurtured and taken care of.

Some days he would cook and it was her turn to sit and be pretty. He would get her sweet wine, because for some reason, she only liked to drink that. She didn't like the expensive things, she preferred the pastrami recipe from The Beef to the one he would make. She liked the rye bread from the bakery in chinatown than the one from the french bakery he went to, she liked the cheese from the supermarket than the one at the farmers market.

He would laugh. He would remember all these quirks that he didn't understand, and he would make sure he got it right every time.

Even after having her try all sorts of things, he kinda learned she didn't like rich chocolate, or imported flavors. Not that she wouldn't appreciate it, but it caught him off guard.

Not everything was meant to be perfect.

She could snack on fries from McDonalds instead of the ones he would make and he didn't care. He would snack on it too.

At some point, he moved in. Closed his lease and found that the warm kitchen was much more comfortable with her funny microwave that you had to hit to turn on, than the updated one he worked at all those years ago.

Sometimes, at night, he would cut up a bowl of carrots and make a side of ranch. Yes, ranch, making sure it tasted like the one from their favorite chicken wing place. She would be working, staying up late with her leg propped up on the chair and eyes glued to her screen.

Sometimes he would come home so tired from his shift that she would stay up, fresh clothes set aside for him and a smile on her face as she kissed him and waited for him in bed.

To Carmy, joy didn't come from perfecting his food anymore. It came from her. The way it radiated around her and uplifted him everywhere.

He told her about his aspirations to own his own restaurant and how she wanted to be the best teacher she could.

"It doesn't matter how long it takes for us to get to where we want to go. As long as I'm with you, I've got a smile on my face." She said.

And she did have that smile.

When they loved as lovers do, every inch of her was his to appreciate and make sure it never left him. He always touched her because he just wanted to feel her, no reason.

When Carmy kissed her, he always made sure it always felt like it was their last. Even if it was a peck.

When they would walk, he would switch hands behind his back incase he didn't like how close someone would get, or if they went to the other side of the road.

Always opened doors for her.

When she was sick, he knew she liked congee with a lot of ginger. She liked his home made sprite when her stomach was upset. When he was sick, he never realized how much he appreciated when she would take the day off just to make sure things were okay. A small fight because he didn't want her to worry or for her to miss work.

When they would actually fight, he would always make sure to tell her: "I'm not leaving you, I'm just going to cool off."

And he would come back.

When she was sad, oh you bet he was there. One time she came to work with him, she threw her self into peeling potatoes. Which then turned into her cutting onions and he got worried when she wouldn't stop crying. She said, "It's theraputic."

Kiss on the forehead and a smile home. It became a regular occurrence when she was sad.

When Carmy made a mistake, yelled at her or didn't know how to explain his anger, she would back away. Give him the space he needed then would come back and they would fix it together.

One morning, in the light of the sunrise, life had gotten away from him. They were growing older. Five years and they had been in this routine. She was still young still finishing school, he paid off his debts to Cicero and The Bear was thriving. Five years. It had slipped from him so quickly that he forgot.

He had so much to give her back.

From the nights of stress of building, money issues, she still stayed there. Still found a way to make him smile. Found a way to make it all just go away.

He called Richie that day. Asked him to come find something with him. Also asked Natalie to come with. No diamond in the world could shine as bright as her, but he made sure it was close enough.

Everyone knew about her and Carmy. Carmy and her. She was this missing piece to everyone's world.

The only spitfire that could render Richie speachless. The only other person who could handle the boys when Nat was tired. The only other person who could understand the way Sydney needed things done.

It was just her.

Now she wasn't a cure all, this hidden pearl. No, she was just who she was and it worked. It wasn't without the ocassional fuck up or mistake that left her stressed beyond all hell. No, it was what made them work so well.

The day Carmy proposed was the day Sydney asked her to run to the farmers market to grab more shallots for the dinner rush- everyone knew she was just closer to it than anyone at The Bear. The day Carmy proposed, she bought figaro shallots and zebrune shallots because they both looked the same and hoped they would work. The day Carmy proposed, she was a mess. Hair frizzy, bag hanging off her shoulder and her glasses skewed - her eyes just didn't want to wear contacts that day. The day Carmy proposed, the restaurant was empty, silent even.

It didn't cross her mind as she hurried to the back and she saw them. Carmy standing there alone, black capped tee and casual jeans. Hands behind him on the back of the stainless steel counter.

"Hey, honey bear... I bought shallots."

As confused as she was, she only thought about the shallots.

"Syd said you guys needed some and I couldn't remember which one you needed so I grabbed both types and-"

"Hon."

That's all he said.

The day Carmy proposed, he knelt down in the empty kitchen that didn't have its usual cold light. But the warm one that she liked and he had installed just for her.

"Marry me?"

It hit her like a truck.

She said yes, not verbally but with an attack of a hug and a searing kiss to him.

And they laughed that day. Laughed at the fact she still thought the shallots mattered, at the fact her nails looked like crap and the fact that everyone. All their friends and family, had all been there waiting for this one answer.

And for Carmy, this was it.

#carmen berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear imagines #richie jerimovich #the bear x reader #jeremy allen white #fluff #dalcaga

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ecemf · 5 months ago

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And the Award Goes To... // A Carmen Berzatto Fanfic

18+!! MDNI!!

A/N: When this year started I definitely did not foresee myself writing not only one but two depraved fanfics both about hooking up in award ceremony bathrooms... but here we are.

This one actually took so long and I don't even really know if I like it but I hope y'all enjoy it. Big cheating vibes so if you're not into that don't read. Ok thanks bye!

Summary: As a writer for Vogue, you've been assigned to cover The James Beard Awards this year. This would be great, as your boyfriend is a nominee, if it weren't for the fact that your toxic ex was also nominated for the same goddamn award...

Warnings: cheating, smut, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it guys), choking, dom/sub dynamics, bit of degradation, porn with lots of plot, asshole boyfriend, asshole carmy, no usage of y/n

WC: ~5.8k

Enjoy!!

Nerves. That’s all you’ve been feeling this entire week.

When your boss had told you in October that you were assigned to cover the James Beard Awards you were elated. Partially because, you know, it was the goddamn James Beard Awards, but mostly because it would be your first major story at Vogue. You had been a writer for their Food column for a few months at that point, and while it wasn’t exactly as you had imagined it while writing it over and over in your manifestation journal, it wasn’t bad, and you were sure you could work your way up. This story was a chance for you to do so, so why would you pass it up?

What you didn’t know when you accepted the assignment weeks before the nominations came out, was that your new boyfriend, Alex Moore, would be nominated for Best Chef in the Midwest. This wouldn’t have been a problem- in fact quite the opposite -if it weren’t for the fact that your toxic ex who you hadn’t seen in ages was nominated for The Same. Damn. Award.

Now it’s May, and the dreaded day has arrived. You finish applying your vampy lipstick with a shaky hand as you hear Alex yell for you from downstairs. You two have been together for about 10 months now, and it’s been great. Alex is good; he’s stable. Sure he’s a bit egotistical and barely has any free time, but he’s a chef, aren’t they all that way? Alex talks about the future with you, he always calls when he’s tied up at the restaurant, he tells you he loves you.

He’s nothing like your ex, which is a good thing. You think. You love him. You think.

You rush down the stairs with your red Louboutins click-clacking on each wooden step. The shoes had been a six-month anniversary gift from Alex, who apparently didn’t know that anniversary means year. Your boyfriend came from old money which he loved to throw around, especially when it came to spoiling you. He had also purchased the dress you were wearing that night. It wasn’t something you would pick out, but it was nice. Simple and sexy without showing much skin.

“Finally,” he sighs, seeing you make it to the bottom of the stairs, “You look great in that dress. Shoes are a nice touch.”

“Thanks baby,” you say, approaching him where he stands by the counter, “You look hot,”

You go to give him a kiss but he puts his hand up before your lips can reach him, “Hey! Watch it!” He scolds, “I don’t want red lipstick marks all over me when I accept my award tonight, so you’re gonna have to keep it in your pants, nympho,”

You roll your eyes at the nickname, one that he gave you a few weeks into living together. Alex thinks it’s crazy that you want to have sex once (if not maybe two or three times) a day. He’s nothing like your ex.

—

When you arrive at the awards ceremony, your heart is racing. You had been squeezing Alex’s hand like a lifeline the entire ride there; he chalked it up to you being nervous about the work aspect of tonight.

You weave through people hand-in-hand with your boyfriend, saying hello to those you recognized, being introduced to those you didn’t. Currently, you were becoming acquainted with the sommelier from some new fusion place. Alex knew him from college. Or from when he did his training in Belgium? You aren't sure, you weren’t really listening. The only thing you’re focused on tonight is avoiding a very specific nominee. You hope you don’t seem too distracted in this (very boring) conversation.

“I’m gonna go find our seats,” you say to Alex, excusing yourself from the hellish small-talk, “It was great to meet you,” you say to- actually, you never caught her name.

As you saunter through the rows of tables, scanning each place card for you and your lover’s names, you try to calm yourself down. “No sign of him yet,” you think, “Maybe he won’t even come. That would be just like him, not showing up.”

Finally, you find the place card reading “Alex Moore”, but when you look at the table setting next to it, it’s empty. You glance around the table- maybe it blew off the plate? As you scan the surrounding area, you grow a bit concerned. Did they forget to put your name out? Were you even supposed to be there? You had no trouble getting in at the door, but-

“Looking for this?”

You freeze. Of fucking course he found your seat before you could.

You turn on your stiletto to see no one other than your ex-boyfriend, Carmen Berzatto, Executive Chef of The Bear. He stares back at you with your place card between his two fingers like a cigarette. Fitting.

“Please give that back,” you say, doing your best to seem unfazed by his presence.

“Wow,” he responds in mock-offense, “That’s the hello I get after all this time? C’mon, Jig,”

You wince at the nickname. You and Carmen had met while you were bartending in college. He was a regular at your bar, and you were a bright-eyed bushy-tailed 21-year-old hoping to make it as a food writer in the big city. You two bonded over your love of food, and would trade recommendations back and forth for different spots around town. You were the only bartender out of the whole staff who used a jigger (was no one else worried about their ratios??), so before he knew your name he would just call you Jigger, which then got shortened to Jig. Even after he finally asked for your name (and number), and even throughout your 3-year relationship (if you could even call it that), he still called you Jig more than your actual name.

“Hello Carmen,” you reply with a tight smile, extending your hand, “May I please have my place card for my seat?” You ask again.

As he opens his mouth to respond, you hear Alex calling out for you, “Babe!” He quickly walks over to where you and Carmen stand, “Hey, you found our seats?” He turns to look at Carmen, “Hey man, good to see you!” He embraces the chef, and takes a step back, looking at the place card in his hand, “Why do you have my girlfriend��s name in your hand?”

You panic. “Ummm… Carmen here found it on the ground, and he was kind enough to pick it up and come find me with it,” You (not so kindly) snatch the white paper out from between his fingers, “thank you again,” You hope your tone makes it clear that you want him to walk away.

“Find you…” Alex looks between the two of you, obviously confused, “Sorry, do you two know each other?” Shit.

Carmen looks at you, amused. You didn’t tell your boyfriend about him.

“Yeah!” You say, a little too enthusiastically, “Um yeah! I erm, I interviewed Carmen about The Bear for that article a few months back, remember honey?”

Alex looks back at you and thinks for a second. “Oh right, I remember that article,”

You never wrote an article about The Bear.

“And how could I forget such a face,” Carmen chimes in. You try to give him a warning with your eyes, and he seems to receive it when he says, “Well, it’s good to see you both, I should go find my place card this time. Good luck out there tonight, Alex,” He pats your boyfriend on the bicep.

“Hey, you too, man,” Alex responds, grinning. As Carmen walks away, he leans down to you and whispers not-so-discreetly, “He’ll need it,”

You try to ignore the comment as the two of you sit down. Your boyfriend was a good chef, a great chef even, but Carmen was better. When you read through the nominations all those months ago, you knew he would win tonight. As someone who had watched the man in his element, there was no doubt in your mind: Carmen would take home the award.

As people continue to mingle and find their seats, you take a glance around the room. The reception hall was huge, there had to be at least a thousand people in the building. Which is why it’s so painfully ironic that Carmen’s seat is in direct eye-line with yours. As you continue to survey your surroundings, his icy blue eyes meet yours. He was staring at you with a familiar look in his eye, and you try to ignore the knots it was tying your stomach into. You quickly look away, turning your attention back to Alex. He turns to look at you, and you go to give him a quick peck, forgetting your conversation from earlier. He once again stops you, rearing his head back to avoid your lips (or your lipstick, rather, so he claims).

“Sorry, I forgot,” you say dejectedly to your boyfriend, who looks at you like you just tried to stab him, “I’m gonna run to the bathroom really quickly before they get started,” you tell him, touching his arm.

“Okay, my speech won’t be until later in the ceremony, so no rush babe,” your ever so confident man responds.

You grab your purse as you head out of the large room, searching for the bathroom. You wish you could find an usher…

“Looking for the restroom?” Asks a young man in a suit. You nod. “It’s-“

“I can show her,” you hear from behind you as someone takes your arm, and before you know it, Carmen is leading you down the hall.

You quickly pull back from him, “Would you leave me alone?” You say quietly, hoping no one is watching or hearing this, “I am trying to work and enjoy my night, okay? You should do the same,” you start down the hallway again, alone this time.

“Alright…” Carmen says behind you, “the bathroom isn’t that way, just so you know.”

You stop, and turn to face him again, “So then where the fuck were you taking me?” You ask, exasperated.

“Well, if you would let me show you…” Carmen looks at you expectantly.

You stare back at him silently, and finally allow yourself to actually look at him. He looks good. Like, really good. Carmen never dresses up, but when he does, good lord he’s a sight for sore eyes. You indulge, ogling at the way his black dress shirt sits taught against his strong chest. Even under the thick suit he has on, you can see his strong arms. Those arms that used to hold you, throw you around, flip you over, help you bounce up and down on-

“My eyes are up here, y’know,” Carmen says sarcastically, obviously noticing what you were doing.

You ignore his comment and his noticing, “if I follow you to this mystery place will you leave me alone tonight?”

“Is that really what you want?” Carmen responds with a certain edge to his voice. An edge you recognize. An edge you miss.

You gulp. “Yes,” you say quietly.

“You were always a bad liar,” Carmen mutters, walking past you down the hall, “c’mon, Jig,” he says for the second time tonight.

—

After a few more hallways and a flight of stairs, you and Carmen arrive on the roof of the building. As soon as you’re outside, the blonde pulls out a pack of cigarettes, silently offering you one as his hangs out of his mouth.

“No thanks, I quit,” you say, putting your hand up.

“Well look at you, changed woman,” He jokes as he lights his cigarette, “Old Money Moore wasn’t into it?”

You roll your eyes at the jab at your boyfriend, “For your information, I quit before me and Alex even met,” you look down at your shoes and shiver a bit in the evening air, “why are we up here, Carmen?”

“Will you stop calling me that?”

“Stop calling you your name?”

“Yeah, it’s weird. You never used to call me that,” he takes another drag of his cigarette, “I mean, unless we were fighting,”

“So most of the time, actually,” You respond, humorlessly.

“Did we spend most of our time fighting?” The man looks you up and down as he continues to smoke, “As I recall we spent most of our time fucking,” he exhales.

You bring your fingers to your temples, “Oh my God, get to the point,” you glance down at your phone, “the ceremony’s going to start soon, and I really don’t want to miss anything,” you say. And you mean it - you have a goddamn article to write!

“Is he gay?” Carmen smirks at you.

“W- what? Is who gay? What are you talking about?”

“Your ‘boyfriend’,” he makes air-quotes around the word, “Alex, is he gay?”

You have half a mind to just turn around and head back to the ceremony, but you don’t. You’re not sure why. Yes you are.

“Firstly, he is my boyfriend. No need for the air quotes, asshole,” You start, annoyed that you’re even having this stupid conversation, “secondly, no, he is not gay. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a woman, and we’re in a relationship, so,”

“Oh I’ve noticed,” Carmen says, raking his eyes up and down your body, “I was just asking because I watched him refuse to kiss you earlier,” he throws his cigarette on the concrete ground, stubbing it out with his foot, “and any man who refuses to kiss a woman who looks like you, well, I just have to assume he probably isn’t into women,”

Your face goes hot. Half from the embarrassment, half from arousal. Boy was he laying it on thick. You clear your throat and meet his eyes, which you had been avoiding doing since the two of you got alone.

“Not that it’s really any of your business,” you start, narrowing your eyes at Carmen, “but he asked me not to kiss him so that I wouldn’t get lipstick on him for when he-“ you cut yourself off, realizing how ridiculous it sounds out loud.

Carmen chuckles, staring into your soul. You avert your eyes.

“When he what, baby?” He asks, coyly.

“Don’t call me that,” you say sternly. Or at least try to.

Carmen starts walking towards you, slowly. He backs you up against the wall behind you until there’s only a few inches of space between the two of you. You still avoid meeting his eyes.

“Jig, look at me,” he says quietly, and you obey, finally locking eyes with him. He moves even closer to you and puts his hand on the wall above you, caging you in, “he doesn’t want your lipstick on him for when he does what?” Your faces are so close he’s almost whispering. God, you wish he would leave you alone. No you don’t.

“For when he wins the award tonight…” you say, barely loud enough for Carmen to hear. But he obviously does, as he hangs his head and laughs. The tops of his curls nearly touch your nose. You stare up at the sky again, half from embarrassment, half from arousal. He was so goddamn close. You could smell him.

He lifts his head, still chuckling a bit, “that dumbass thinks he’s going to win the award tonight?” He asks you in disbelief, “like seriously?”

You knew Carmen would win the award, there was no doubt about it, but he was being a major asshole. A sexy asshole, but it was a bit much.

“Carmy-” You go to tell him it wouldn’t be impossible for Alex to win, but you freeze when the nickname slips out of your mouth. He smiles devilishly at you.

“There it is,” he says with that shit-eating grin on his face, “say it again,” he whispers, getting his mouth dangerously close to yours.

“Stop it,” you whisper back. His nose nudges yours and you turn your head to the side.

“What’s my name baby?” Carmy murmurs as he ghosts his lips up and down your neck, “Say it again, sweet girl,” he pulls the neckline of your dress to the side and bites down.

“Carmy,” You whine. You grip his shirt, trying to find something to ground you as your ex-boyfriend sucks a mark into your collarbone, “please, I can’t,”

“But you want to,” he smirks as he continues kissing your neck, your insides becoming molten lava, “Alex doesn’t need to worry about your lipstick on his face, baby. You know why?” He pulls back and looks you in your eyes, already glazed-over and needy, “because I’m gonna win that goddamn award,” he grips your waist as he pulls you tightly to him and whispers in your ear, “and then I’m gonna fuck his girlfriend while I wear it.”

You try to catch your breath as he releases you and your back hits the wall. Carmen takes his thumb and runs it over your bottom lip. You think he’s going to put it in your mouth, but he just wipes a bit of the lipstick off of it. You watch in lustful amazement as he then takes the red pigment and rubs it on his neck underneath his collar. He pushes off the wall and without a word leaves you standing up on the roof, alone, soaking through your underwear.

—

“Jeez, did you fall in?” Alex says quietly as you shimmy into your seat. You had missed the beginning of the ceremony. “Are you feeling okay? You look a bit flushed,” he rests a hand on your thigh and you give him a small smile.

“Yeah, sorry, you know women’s bathroom lines…” you say through tight lips, hoping he doesn’t ask any more questions.

Your prayers are answered when your boyfriend simply nods and turns back to the presenters. You turn to see Carmy staring holes through you, with that stupid goddamn smirk on his face. You take a deep breath and try to return your attention to the stage.

—

You sit through a handful of awards and speeches, and finally it comes to the “Best Chef” section of the night. Up first: Midwest. AKA: Your Boyfriend vs. Your Ex. Your heart races as you watch the presenter give a speech about the award and the nominees. He reads off all of the names of the nominees, and your palms sweat as you rest a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

The room is quiet as the announcer says, “And the James Beard Award goes to…”

You inhale.

“…Carmen Berzatto of The Bear!”

You exhale.

Alex curses under his breath and clenches his fists. You try to rub his back but for the third time tonight, he pushes you away. You sit quietly with your hands in your lap as Carmen takes the stage. God, why does he look so good even in stage lighting?

Carmen walks up to the microphone after having the medal placed on him by the presenter.

“Wow. Um, I’d like to thank my team first and foremost, I wouldn’t be able to achieve anything without them. I’d erm, I’d like to specifically thank Sydney Adamu, my sous chef and partner. She really should be the one up here, but I guess I’ll take it,” The crowd laughs along with him, “I’m really grateful for this award and anyone who’s ever eaten at The Bear. Thank you.” He looks dead into your eyes and grabs the medal as he ends his speech, “I can’t wait to wear this thing!”

Everyone laughs except for you, whose face goes beet red. Luckily the lights are dim enough for it not to be an issue, but you can hear the blood pumping in your ears. You turn your attention back to Alex, whose ears had apparently had steam coming out of them for the past two minutes.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” he mutters, “that was supposed to be my award. After all the fucking money my parents donated to this foundation? What a joke.”

You pretend you don’t hear your boyfriend whining like a spoiled brat, “Are you okay?” You ask sweetly, “It’s just an award baby, it doesn’t really mean anything,” you try to replace your hand on his shoulder but he swats it away. Hard.

“Jesus can you not touch me for like five fucking seconds?” He says, pretty loudly, considering they’re in the middle of presenting the Best Chef Northeast award. You look up to see if anyone heard and see Carmy coming down the steps of the stage, clenching his jaw as he watches the interaction. You hold your stinging hand and excuse yourself to the restroom before your tears of anger can spill over.

As you stand in the mirror, dabbing your eyes before any more tears can fall, you hear the bathroom door creak open and the deadbolt turn. Behind you in the mirror appears who else but Carmen fucking Berzatto, wearing that stupid fucking James Beard Award. You stare at him through the mirror, silently.

“Well, aren’t you gonna congratulate me?” He says, walking towards you. You turn around to face him, “C’mon, Jig, nothing?”

You stare at Carmen. You watch the way he stares back. All of today’s events race through your head. All the times your boyfriend rejected you, dismissed you, ignored you. Those moments on the roof, the adrenaline you felt, Carmy’s words ringing through your mind.

“and then I’m gonna fuck his girlfriend while I wear it.”

You reach out and grab the medal on his chest and use it to pull him into you. It’s intense off the bat, a mix of teeth tongue and lips, hands frantically grasping at each other. Carmy grips your neck and your waist as you lace your fingers through his curls and give a tug that earns you a soft moan. You begin kissing down his neck, leaving dark red lipstick marks all over. You push his sport coat off his shoulders and begin undoing the buttons at the top of his shirt.

“Eager, are we?” Carmen teases, helping you in removing his shirt.

“Just shut up and fuck me, Bear,” you respond, bringing his mouth back to yours.

“Mmm,” Carmen pulls away, “what happened to my good girl who used to beg so politely?”

“She only gets fucked once every two weeks so she’s kind of impatient right now,” you say as you continue to place kisses all over Carmy’s upper body and palm at his erection.

“Hold the fuck-“ Carmy pushes you off of him and looks at you with shock on his face, “that asshole only fucks you twice a month??”

You look back at him in all of his glory. His curls messy from your hands, his sculpted form covered in your lipstick marks, his pupils blown, his dick, well, huge. Why did you ever give this up?

“He just doesn’t have a high sex drive he says,” you shrug, putting your hands back onto him, “I don’t really wanna talk right now, Carmy,”

“Does he at least eat you out first?” He looks genuinely perplexed and frightened by this information. How could someone have this masterpiece of a woman under their roof and not be ravaging her at least once a day?

“I asked you to fuck me, not make me laugh, Berzatto,” you deadpan back at the man, “seriously, now you know how much I need this, so please,”

“Oh you need it bad, baby,” Carmen says as he turns you around to face the mirror. He begins unzipping your dress ever so slowly, leaving kisses across every inch of your back. You step out of your dress, left only in your matching bra and underwear along with your red Louboutins. “Turn around,” Carmy orders.

You do so. You look at Carmy through your lashes, feeling equally exposed and terrifyingly aroused. The man growls underneath his breath, just staring at you.

“What a fucking idiot,” he says, before picking you up and placing you on the countertop, “doesn’t fucking realize what he has, rich fucking asshole,” Carmy mutters more nasty things about your boyfriend as he pulls your panties down your legs. He smells the soaked fabric before putting them in the pocket of his trousers. He pulls your legs open and groans loudly. “Jesus, baby, is all this for me?” He runs a finger through your soaked folds, collecting some of your arousal which had been building since you first saw him hours ago.

You squirm atop the counter as Carmy just toys with you. He stares at your vagina with amazement, like it’s a piece of art. Finally, he dives in, licking a flat stripe from your entrance to your clit. You gasp loudly. One of your hands flies to grip onto the counter top while the other finds purchase in the golden curls currently perched between your thighs.

It’s just as good as you remember it. That’s the problem, always has been. The sex is so goddamn good. It’s what kept you crawling back every time Carmen would hurt you for 3 long years. You hated your past self for always giving in, but right now, you understood her completely.

Carmy swirled his tongue around your clit as he inserted two thick fingers into your entrance, curling them just right. The stretch was like nothing else. You let out a beautiful noise, causing him to groan into your pussy, the vibrations adding to the delicious stimulation. You clenched around his fingers as he continued his ministrations, feeling that familiar knot tightening in your lower stomach.

“You gonna give me one?” Carmy says, looking up at you with a soaked face and hungry eyes, “You gonna come all over my fingers, baby?”

“Yes, Carmy, yes, oh my god,” you babble, feeling so close, “please don’t stop baby,”

Carmen raises to his feet while continuing to finger you. He pulls you closer to him, leaning into your ear. “Does that feel good, princess?”

As you moan uncontrollably as you muster a “yes feels good,” but you know the questioning won’t end there.

“Yeah baby?” Carmen adds a third finger and you squeal, “how good does it feel?”

“God it feels so good please don’t stop,”

“Who’s making you feel this good, sweet girl?” He continues to whisper into your ear.

“You Carmy, it’s always you,” you respond breathily, the coil in your stomach moments from snapping.

“Say it again,” Carmen growls.

“Carmy oh my god-“ and with that your vision blanks. Your legs shake as you come harder than you have since… well since the last time you fucked Carmy. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he continues his movements, prolonging your orgasm.

You grip onto his strong shoulders as you come down, resting your forehead against his as he removes his fingers from you.

“Jesus Christ,” you say, as you watch him stick all three fingers into his mouth and suck off your residue. You watch familiarly as he gathers spit in his mouth and grabs your jaw. Knowing the routine, you gladly open your mouth, as he spits in the mixture of the two of you. You moan as you taste yourself mixed with Carmen.

“Swallow,” he demands, holding your throat. And you do. “There’s my good girl,” he says, undoing his belt with one hand, “thought I lost you there, baby,”

You hum contentedly as he continues to hold you by your throat while he pulls his cock out of his pants and boxers. You moan at the sight of the state of it. Veins bulging, tip bright red and leaking, and, well, huge.

Carmen pumps himself a few times before saying, “take your bra off,” letting go of your throat to opt for one of your newly free breasts, “love these fucking tits, god.”

You squeeze your legs together as he strokes himself while playing with your nipples. It’s hot, but you need more. Now.

“Carmy, please,” you said, making your sweetest eyes at him, “I need you so bad,”

“You gonna beg me baby?” He responds with that stupid grin on his face.

“I’ll do anything,” you say, disregarding your pride (and your boyfriend).

“Is that right, angel?” He asks, caressing your face as you nod, lowering his voice, “you’ll do anything for this dick?” He continues stroking it as he looks into your eyes, “you need to get fucked so badly that you’re in here begging me for my cock while your boyfriend’s in the other room. Didn’t realize you were such a slut, baby,”

Your pussy throbs as Carmen continues to taunt you, “yes, I’ll do anything please,” you’re truly so desperate at this point, “please just give me your cock Carmy,”

“Say it,”

“Say what?” You ask, genuinely confused.

“Say you’re my slut,”

You gulp. “I- I’m your slut,”

“And why are you a slut?”

“B-because I’m in here begging for your cock when my boyfriend’s right outside…”

“And why are you begging me for my cock when you have a boyfriend?”

Okay this interrogation was getting old.

“Because it’s so much better, Carmy, please just give me your dick haven’t I been good?”

“You’ve been so good, baby,” Carmy says as he pries open your thighs and buries himself inside of you.

You yelp at the intrusion, not expecting himself to push himself in to the hilt on the first stroke.

Carmen lifts up your right leg and puts it over his shoulder. Then the left. He watches as your tits bounce while you half-lay on the countertop. You watch as his medal bounces on his chest with each thrust. He notices.

“You like that baby?” He asks, snaking a hand down to rub circles on your clit, “you like getting fucked by the best chef in the midwest?”

“Yes Carmy, fuck, just like that,” you moan out, “best dick in the midwest,” you say, somewhat jokingly.

Carmen half-laughs half-growls at the comment, “that’s fucking right, baby, best dick you’ll ever have. That’s why you keep coming back, right? That’s why you’re in here cheating on your stupid fucking boyfriend? Yeah?” With that last comment, he delivers a slap to your clit, causing you to scream and your pussy to clamp down around him.

“Fuck always so tight, princess, always so good for me,” Carmy babbles, getting lost inside of you, “this is my pussy. No one else’s. Say it.”

“It’s- fuck!” You yell as Carmen adjusts his angle, now hitting your G-spot over and over, “It’s your pussy Carmy, fuck! It belongs to you, I belong to you, oh my God don’t stop, please!”

It seems like Carmy misheard you as he stops fucking you and pulls you down off the counter top and kisses you ferociously. He grabs at your ass and you whine at the loss of him inside of you.

“Hold on baby, I’ve got you,” he says against your lips, “just need to do something,” he says, as he lifts off his medal and places it around your neck. You look up at him, confused. “Turn around,” he says, darkly.

You turn around to look at yourself in the mirror. There’s a red mark around your neck from where Carmen was gripping you, your updo from earlier is now mostly down, your chest is littered with small hickies, and between your tits lies a motherfucking James Beard Award.

Carmen pushes on your upper back so that you’re leaning over the counter and re-enters you at a punishing pace. The bathroom is filled with lewd noises of skin slapping skin and moaning. You look up to see Carmen staring at you through the mirror. Except, he’s not looking at your face, he’s staring at your tits. Wait. No. He’s staring at the medal bouncing with your tits.

Carmen looks into your eyes through the mirror, “yeah look at you,” he growls, somehow pushing into you even faster now, “my girl wearing my fucking award. Jesus Christ look at that,” he watches intently as the piece of silver bounces off of your chest with each thrust he delivers, “fuck, who’s the best baby?”

“It’s you, Carmy, you’re the best,” you moan out in response, “you’re the best,”

Carmen reaches around you and grabs the medal, but keeps the ribbon around your neck. He pulls on it just enough that your back arches and your head falls onto his shoulder. The new angle this creates is mind-blowing, and you once again moan all too loudly. Carmen litters kisses and bites along the shell of your ear.

“I’m so close baby,” he strains into your ear, “want you to come with me,”

With that he takes his free hand and resumes his work on your clit. The combination of the dragging of his thick cock over your G-spot over and over again with the tight circles he’s rubbing into you has you barreling towards your second orgasm. Knowing your body the way he does, Carmy can tell, and he tries his best to time his release with yours.

With one final stroke, you’re coming undone on Carmy’s dick, throat still held tight by the ribbon of his award. Carmen stutters as he comes inside of you with a groan, holding your hips in a way that will bruise as he paints your insides, the warmth adding to your intense pleasure. You both come down from your highs with a collection of sighs and moans, and finally, Carmy pulls out of you. You whimper at the loss of contact and the feeling of him leaking out of you.

Wordlessly, you begin to dress yourself again. You don’t even bother asking Carmen for your panties back, that’s an argument you’ve lost to him enough times already. You zip your dress back up, Carmen silently helping you get it to the top as he too works on making himself decent again. You attempt to fix your hair looking in the mirror, getting it back to a somewhat similar state to when you arrived earlier this evening. You smooth out your dress, and go to walk out of the bathroom when Carmen clears his throat.

“You, um,” he looks at the floor before making that piercing eye contact he’s so good at, “you deserve better, you know, than that asshole,”

You stare back at the man you loved for so many years. The man you still love today. He was right, you did deserve better. Better than Alex, but better than him, too. You nod back at him with tears in your eyes.

“Congratulations on your award, Carmen,” you say quietly. You walk out of the bathroom, back to the ceremony.

320 notes · View notes

laiiaaa · 2 years ago

Text

thinking about Carmen taking care of his girl sm he won’t put up with her spending any of her hard-earned money :(

After shutting your door for you, Carmen walks around the front of the car into the drivers seat, shuffling with the seatbelt as he turns the key in the ignition.

You hum to yourself in the meantime and find your lipstick in your bag—your new lipstick, a little more luxe this time, just the right shade to compliment your skin, a treat for yourself after finishing up a project at work. Just a little gift you deserved. You flip down the sun visor and open the mirror, making a pretty o with your lips to carefully apply it, stifling a smile when you feel Carmen watching.

“Where’s that from, baby?” he asks, a hand smoothing up your back.

“Hm?”

“The—the, uh—” he points to his own mouth while staring at your lips— “Lipstick, you call it?”

“Oh,” you smile. “Yeah, it’s new.” You hug his bicep, an affectionate squeeze before cradling the side of his face and toying with the tuft of hair by his ear. “You like it?”

He hums, “‘F course, ‘s pretty.”

But his smile falters, and it has you pouting.

“What?”

“Nothin’…” He shrugs. “Just don’t remember buyin’ it. You used my card, right?”

You shake your head. “No, I bought it myself. It wasn’t expensive, Carm, I promise.” Half true, at the very least.

“Yeah?” He let’s go of you only briefly to lift his hips and pull his wallet from his pocket, fishing out the wad of cash that’s accumulated there. “How much was it, baby? I’ll pay you back.”

“Carm, I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m doin’ it anyway.” He counts out one, two, three twenties—

“Carmen, put that away—”

He looks up at you, raises his brows, dishes out a fourth and a fifth. “What?” He doesn’t even flinch when he folds the bills in two and leans over the console to slip them in your purse, sneaking a kiss to your cheek as he does so, just because he knows it’ll distract you. A hand on the wheel now—a veiny, tattooed hand, enough to make you drool—with the other holding your jaw, he kisses you again, the corner of your mouth to keep your lipstick in tact. “Use my card next time, you hear me? Doesn’t matter what it’s for.”

You frown. “But I feel bad . . . I make my own money, y’know.”

“You’re not supposed to spend your money, baby, you’re supposed to spend mine.” Again, he kisses you, guiding you where he wants you with his thumb and index gently holding your chin so you can’t look away. “I got you, baby. Lemme take care ‘f you.”

And, well, when he puts it like that . . . it’s not so hard to oblige.

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

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 years ago

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hi! i'd like to ask for a whiskey with carmen berzatto with prompt m. Keeping the relationship a secret

thank you <3

Lovesick.

warnings - not quite smut, but a little smooching. cursing.

ah sweet carmen. thank you for this request <3

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

"Behind!"

Carmy's fingertips graze across your back as he walks past you, featherlight and barely there.

It sets your nerves on fire.

You carry on slicing the tomatoes, mentally willing yourself to calm down. You seem to turn into a teenager when Carmy's around, all giggly and jumpy.

"Time for you to take a break," a warm voice mutters in your ear.

"I've got like an hour before I need a break, Carm."

"I said, time for you to take a break."

He presses a gentle kiss to your ear, chuckling when he sees you shiver. To anyone else, it looks like he's just giving you direction.

"I'll meet you in the office in five," you whisper. He's satisfied with your answer, slinking off to wait for you.

You barely make it to two minutes before you're walking across the kitchen, gliding through the door and closing it behind you.

Two rough hands find your hips, pushing you up against the wall. Carmy smashes his lips to yours, using your startled gasp as opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You tangle your fingers into his hair, tugging and pulling recklessly. Your leg hitches up around his thigh, desperate to get closer to him.

"You're all I can think about," Carmy whispers against your mouth. "Can't focus on a fuckin' thing when you're in the room."

You whine, tugging him back to kiss you again. You know this is risky. But you just can't help yourself.

"Come over tonight," you murmur. "Want you to fuck me to sleep."

He throws his head back and groans, gorgeous neck exposed and waiting to be bitten. You lean in and lick the expanse of it, tasting the salt on his skin.

Carmy brings a warm hand up to rest against your throat, smirking when you whine. He presses kisses to the spot under your ear, your neck, your collarbones. Just as he's trying to unbutton your shirt, the door swings open, scaring the life out of you both.

You shriek as Carmy jumps, light filling the tiny room.

"Well well well," Richie drawls, grin etched across his face. "What do we have here?"

"Is Carmy there? I need to ask him about-"

Sydney stops dead in her tracks, the corners of her lips curling.

"Does anyone else wanna come and fuckin' look?" Carmy groans, snapping at the two people stood in the doorway.

You hide your face in his chest, willing them to leave you alone. Or for the ground to swallow you up. Either works.

"Alright, alright. Let's leave these lovesick kids alone."

You never thought you'd see the day that Richie was your saving grace.

The minute the door swings closed, you can't help but break out into a fit of giggles. Carmy joins you, both of you crying tears of laughter.

Lovesick. He's probably right.

#carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader smut #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto #the bear imagine #the bear x reader #carmy the bear #the bear fanfiction #jeremy allen white #murphy's 3k celebration

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invincibledc · 6 months ago

Text

Y/N: dude…stop vibrating.

Bart who can’t control his feelings as he holds you close to his body.

Bart: can’t control it. *smiles* I’m hugging the most awesomest person ever and you’re telling me to stop?

Y/N: *smiles* yes. Cause I feel like ima get burned by my shirt.

Bart: oops! Sorry, can’t help it. *is less vibrating now*

Y/N: thanks man.

#dc fluff #dc x male reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc comics x reader #bart allen x male reader #young justice bart allen #bart allen young justice #bartholomew allen #barry allen x reader #bart allen x reader #bart allen #impulse x male reader #young justice impulse #impulse x reader #impulse young justice #dc impulse

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andiberzatto · 3 months ago

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"Best. Birthday. Ever" (Lip Gallagher x Reader)

SUMMARY: Lip never celebrated his birthday and never even tried to. now that he was turning 25, his girlfriend decided to take it upon themselves to make him feel special. (absolute fluff, lip being emotional and angsty)

you sit on his porch waiting for him to get off work from the the shop. "Happy Birthday Baby" you say softly as he approaches.

he stops in place, rubbing his thumb on his lip as he looks around at everything but you, "uh...thanks" he replies softly, his tone is awkward as ever. he sighs, looking at you finally and steps closer. "what're you doin here?" he doesnt mean to be rude to you, but birthdays weren’t exactly celebrated in his household. Monica was never around, Frank was always drunk and his siblings were always doing fuck ass shit to get themselves into trouble even on his birthday.

"Baby it's your birthday... youre supposed to celebrate? did your siblings never help celebrate? none of your family?" You say softly, you've known lip for a while so you know his family isnt exactly cookie cutter american dream. but you also know he never lets you go to the Gallagher house for a reason. always insisting on coming to yours or having you meet at his apartment if he was at the Gallagher house for the day.

he runs his hands through his messy curls, clearly uncomfortable with the sweet approach, "celebrate what? another year older? Hard Pass." his chicago accent always got thicker when he was defensive or snippy. he plays it off with a half smile that doesnt quite reach his eyes. "and for the record, no. Frank was too drunk to remember what day it was half the time let alone a birthday..." he trails off kicking a rock on the porch with his shoe, "Fiona was too busy being a mom instead of a sister, Ian was either with his boyfriends or having a manic episode, Debbie was too young and carl was... carl. and liam was a baby" he finished shoving his hands in his pockets looking at you.

you nod and frown almost uncontrollably, "you never had a single good birthday?"

Lip leans back against the porch railing, looking out at the streets, "had one good birthday. Monica actually remembered. she was trying to be a good mom. I thought things were finally turning around... got me a cake had the lady at the grocery store put my favorite superhero on the cake..." a wistful smile tugs on his smiles at the memory. "but then she left the next day without a single word or a note. just left in the middle of the night... so."

you grew up with the birthday dinners and big parties with all your classmates from school. you thought it was a universal childhood experience til now.

Lip watches you frown again, clearly troubled by the fact hes never had a proper birthday all his life. I mean he's almost 25 and never had a proper birthday besides the one time monica remembered and then left. he crosses his arms defensively, "you make it sound so bad. so what if I never had a birthday party? big deal." he tries to play it off.

"its an essential childhood thing lip.." is all you say in response.

he lets out a frustrated laugh, "well fuck, excuse me for not having perfect white-picket-fence memories." his voice carries a bitter edge, "some of us didnt get the whole "happy family" bullshit, princess."

"lip I didnt mean it like that.." you mumble, looking down at your shoes.

he sees your reaction and immedietly regrets his words. his expression softens and he runs a hand through his curls again, "shit.. I didnt means to snap at you..." he sighs, looking down at his own feet, "its just different for me, okay?"

"I know what you meant, I just mean.." you start to explain but you lose the energy to and let it drop off given his soured tone earlier.

"you just mean what?" he prompts softly, his tone is less harsh but still a bit on the defensive side. he uncrosses his arms, standing up straight, "you think its sad that ive never had a proper birthday party? that I never blew out candles or had my name written on gift tags?"

"theres not a little part of you thats still that little boy who just wanted a good birthday?" you answer his barrage of questions with your own question. a more meaningful question, asking about his inner child.

his eyes flicker with unspoken emotion, and he looks away, trying to hide it. rubbing his lip with his thumb, its almost a self soothing gesture he does when hes nervous. he swallows hard, remembering being that little kid sat in the room he shared with his brothers, sat on his top bunk sulking. waiting for someone to remember its his birthday. he turns back to you, jaw clenched.

"come with me inside." you say softly.

he hesistates for a moment, clearly caught off guard by your gentle invitation. "what? why?"his voice comes out softer than intended. "what are you planning?" his defensive walls are crumbling slightly at your genuine concern. "I dont need your fucking pity party."

you hold out your hand, "come on, just trust me."

he stares at your outstretched hand, a war raging in his eyes. he's torn between his stubborness to remain sulky on his birthday and the small desperate voice in his head telling him to go with you because you might actually care. after a long pause, he reached out and takes your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours.

you smile sweetly, "come on birthday boy" you say in a sing song voice that makes lip chuckle.

he rolls his eyes trying to hide the smile tugging on his lips as you lead him inside. as soon as youre in the dimly lit kitchen , his eyes widen in shock. the table is set with a small sheet cake with 25 cakes and a homemade card.

you smile, "stay right there, I gotta grab your gift from the bedroom."

he watches you disappear into his bedroom, his heart pounds in his chest. he stands there in the kitchen staring at the birthday cake and the card, it feels like a sick dream hes gonna wake up from. when you return with a gift box, he blinks back tears, suddenly overwhelmed by your kindness, "you.."

you set the gift box on the table, "do you wanna light the candles and make a wish? I made sure there was 25 individual candles. which is hard to do on a tiny sheet cake but I made it work.." you smile sheepishly, there really wasnt anything you wouldnt do to show lip just how loved and special he was.

his chest feels tight. hes never had someone do something like this for him. making an effort for 25 candles? painstakingly putting them on the cake to spell out "LIP"? absolutely unheard of in his world. he swallows hard, deciding to break the emotion with a joke, "what if I wish for something dirty?"

"you can wish for anything you want, youre an old ass bitch now" you joke back.

he laughs, the sound genuine and unguarded. for a moment, hes not the hardened smart ass he usually pretends to be. he leans over and carefully helps you light the candles, both of you using your bic lighters. the flames flicker in the kitchen casting a beautiful warm glow on Lip's blue eyes and curls. "you know what?"

"what?" you say soflty

"most birthdays id get drunk or high. im 25, you know? ive never blown out candles til this moment.." his voice drops softly. he unconsciously rubs the back of his neck, his biceps flexing.

you kiss his cheek, "well heres to better birthdays and a real cake."

he turns his head softly, a slow grin on his face- his sarcastic demeanor fades into the background as you catch a glimpse of the boy who always wanted this- acknowledgement, care, celebration. "fuck, this might be the best thing anyones done for me.."

"make your wish birthday boy." you say as you ruffle his curls.

he laughs again, soflty biting his lip as he hesitates looking at the soft look in your eyes. he closes his eyes softly and leans over, blowing out the candles with a slow deliberate breath. he opens his eyes, "can I... open the present now?"

"yeah. I uh.. I hope it fits.." you hand him the gift box.

his eyebrows raise as he opens the box, revealing the vintage tshirts of bands he loves. a genuine smile spreads on his face. these arent just any shirts- theyre rare finds from his favorite underground bands. "Holy shit"

you run your knuckles over your lips nervously, "im not sure if theyre your size, I got a medium in most of them... I figured if they dont fit how you like them to you can distress them.." you were nervously trying to explain your thought behind the gift now.

he cuts you off, holding up one of the shirts to his chest looking like a child on christmas, "shut up, you got these for me?"

you nod, "I went to so many thift stores in chicago it was insane."

hes genuinely speechless for a moment looking at the shirts then back to you. he holds the shirts close to his chest then slowly sets them down, reaching to pull you into a hug. his arms wrap around you tightly, burying his face in your neck, "fuck.."

"I hope you love them..."

hes overwhelmed with gratitude and affection. hes not sure how to react he just wants to be held, "just.. fuckin hold me for a sec?" he needs a second to process that you did this all for him. hes not used to being the one being taken care of.

you rub his back as you hug in the kitchen, "how about you shower and change into comfy clothes and ill heat up dinner and we can watch your favorite tv show or movie?"

he nods against your neck, taking a deep breath before pulling back, "that sounds perfect" he gives you a small smile, his eyes still glossy from earlier. he stands up and stretches, before leaning down to give you a quick kiss to the forehead. "ill be right back."

couple miutes later he returns, clean and dressed in one of the worn in band tees you bought him and sweatpants. his hair is damp and pushes out of his face. he plops down on the couch by you pulling you into his lap.

"lookin good in that shirt, wonder who bought it for you." you joke

he grins, lookin at you proudly, "my amazing girlfriend who went above and beyond to make my birthday special." he leans in to kiss you.

you blush and kiss him back before pulling away softly to speak, "pasta is on the coffee table, what do you wanna watch?"

he grabs the remote and his plate, "fuck that looks delicious.." he mumbles, as he scrolls through the options his other arm firmly wrapped round your waist, "How about 10 things I hate about you?"

you quirk your head, not knowing Lip has a soft spot for romantic comedies.

he shrugs, nonchalantly, trying to play it cool, "what? I like heath ledger." he says mock defensively. as the movie plays he takes a bite of the pasta humming approvingly and his shoulders relax.

you nod, "right... okay..." you kiss his cheek, "youre a total goober and I adore you."

he laughs softly, pulling you closer, squeezing your hip soflty. youve found all his softer sides- his intelligence, his protectiveness, and now his secret romantic side.

he kisses the top of your head, he is teuly happy and content for the first time in a while. he watches the movie with a goofy boyish grin on his face, stealing glances at you ocassionally. "you know what?" he says softly.

"what baby?" you whisper back softly.

"best. birthday. ever." his voice is quiet. for a man who talks a mile a minute of sarcastic one liners, this genuine moment soeaks volumes. "just bein here... pasta... a good movie... and my.." he trails off with a small smirk. "my hot as fuck girlfriend"

you blush softly and smile, "flattery will get you everywhere Gallagher.."

he chuckles nuzzling your shoulder, "is it workin?" he asks hopefully, his fingers crading through your hair.

you nod, "after the movie and we head to bed, you can have whatever you want.." promising extra cuddles, kissing and much more between the sheets tonight in so few words.

he nips your earlobe playfully, then settles back in against the couch with a satisfied grin, "best. birthday. ever." he repeats before focusing back on the movie again.

#andiberzattothoughts #andiberzatto #lip gallagher fluff #lipgallagherbrainrot #lip gallagher x reader #jeremy allen white #lip gallagher

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