The thought of giving Carmy a handjob in the car on your way to a dinner date 😵💫😵💫
He looks too good not to. Out of his normal garb, donning instead a pair of slacks that hugged his thighs just right, and a baby blue button up rolled to his elbows, he has you drooling. Toughened forearms on display, shiny wristwatch bringing attention back to his veiny hands—those hands that make you so soft, so pliant for him, those hands that do everything for you. And the way he drives you wherever you please, with one hand gripping the wheel and the other squeezing your thigh, or toying with your hair, or held in your hands.
He couldn’t be sexier if he tried.
You first strike at a red light. You take his free arm into your grasp, thumbing at the sinew the way he likes, and purr as you kiss the back of his hand. “Carmy?”
“What’s up, baby?” He stays facing forward, illuminated by a red glow, yet brings your hand to his lips so you get a kiss of your own.
Leaning in a bit closer across the console, you graze your hand up his neck and by his jaw. “Can I have a kiss?”
His eyes flit your way, shooting back to the traffic light. Still red. Smiling, he urges you his way. “Gotta make it quick, alright? Light’s gonna—”
But you kiss him before he can say too much, humming an Mhmmm to say you understand, deep and sensual and definitely leaving behind a stain of lipstick he’ll have to scrub off before entering the restaurant.
Just in time, he pulls away to check the light ahead as it turns green. He’s too sweet not to apologize for the inconvenience, so he brings your knuckles to his lips—even though you’re fucking insatiable, and your hand slips to his chest, then sternum, then stomach, then his belt—
“Baby,” he warns, “You’re distractin’ me.”
But you kiss his jaw, fresh with aftershave, and kiss his pulse even harder. “You just look so handsome, honey,” you whine, palming over the front of his slacks, “Don’t wanna wait till after dinner to have you.”
He groans, then, white knuckles the wheel, hisses with an intake of breath. He’s hard already, you can feel it, throbbing beneath your hand, arousal swirling in your gut and making you press your thighs together.
“Please, Carmy, jus’ lemme help you…”
Yeah…help. As if you didn’t get him wound up in the first place.
“Y’know…” He pauses, weighing what he wants versus what he knows he should do. “It’s not safe to drive like that.”
A kiss to his cheek, then his jaw, your voice purring in his ear: “I’m not the one driving.”
“Baby—”
See, now, you know that tone—it’s firm, and it’s demanding, with next to nothing behind it. Flush runs up past the collar of his shirt, and he takes one hand off the wheel to grab that pesky hand of yours, bringing it to his lips again like it’ll turn you off course.
You send him those babydoll eyes. “Just lemme see it, please?” Then a hand on his lap, another kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be good for you…”
Before the syllable can trail off to completion the car jerks to the right with a mumbled Sorry, baby slipping past his lips as he peels onto a side street.
The car stops.
Your lips curl into a smile.
A deep sigh leaves his chest, his hands go for his belt, his head rears back. “You’re fuckin’ insane, y’know that?”
“Maybe.”
There’s little else for him to do other than give you what you want. Well, there’s that, and then cleaning the lipstick off his face, and wiping the mascara from under your eyes once he’s done with you.
And, hey, only five minutes late for the reservation? No harm, no foul.
Question, I found out that a user is using reposting of your writings in my community. They are not claiming them however they don't give you credit.
Do you allow reposts? Would you want them to credit you. Or would you like us to remove it completely. ( They are getting likes and positive feedback but no mention of you as the original writer )
omg noooo i do not allow reposting!!
i spend (or spent i guess, since i have not written in a while!) lots of time writing/editing my work. even when giving credit, direct copying is not okay. if an idea is inspired by something of mine (for example, a piece similar to but not identical to cinnamon sugar in its cozy sleepy feel/plot) then that’s okay as long as i am credited.
i recognize that nothing i have come up with is necessarily revolutionary, but it’s good practice to give praise and respect to those you are inspired by. i also recognize the perspective of, “they just think your work is amazing!”, however i find that ridiculous; plagiarism (especially in the fanfic community) is, in my opinion, just a lazy way to gain clout and/or validation. if you truly appreciated my work and respected my time, you would either 1) interact accordingly (like, reblog, etc.) or 2) give me credit for any inspiration.
all that being said, please do not copy my work in any capacity, and report anyone who does so.
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.)
a/n: this is (debatably) some of the best smut i've ever written but i'm still new to the field ! give ya girl some suggestions if desired.
song : i know we could be so happy baby.
warnings : fluffy smut, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), piv sex (unprotected), both reader and carmen have a bit of a praise kink, brief hairpulling, the "L-word," established relationship, gets a little rough towards the end, back scratching, porn with no real plot. not proofread
word count: 2.6k+
MDNI : i am not responsible for your media consumption.
NSFW under the cut — last warning!
"Try it," Carmen cupped your jaw as he lifted the wooden spoonful of creamy, tomato soup to your mouth, thumbing your bottom lip gently so you could carefully swallow every last bit. He enjoyed feeding you, if he was being totally honest. Even if this had been upon your request. Making his girl happy with what he did best was nothing short of a blessing to him.
"Mmm," you hummed in amusement, swallowing before smiling contently and nodding your head. "'S great, Carmy. Fuckin' delicious."
Long days at work dealing with insensitive clientele and immature coworkers seemed to be so easily remedied by Carmen's cooking. You weren't sure if it was because it was him catering to you and loving you the one way he always knew how, or if the food was just that fucking amazing. Maybe a little bit if both.
"Yeah? Alright," he chuckled a bit, grabbing the ladle beside the pot and scooping the simple, yet beautifully crafted tomato soup into a ceramic bowl. He seemed to know exactly how you liked it, despite him asking you if you enjoyed it every. single. time.
You accepted the bowl with a sickly sweet smile on your face, giving Carmen a kiss on his clean shaven cheek to thank him for his gesture before hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen counter. Carmen just stood with his arms crossed against his chest as he leaned against the dining table, candidly watching you enjoy the warm bowl of soup
"So," you slurped some of the soup as you paused, "I'm thinkin' of giving Syd that top we found the other day."
Thrifting had become of recent liking to you anD Carmen. Just shopping and mooching around Chicago in search of vintage pieces. Mostly to actually wear, but partly to collect or regift to fellow friends. Last time you two had a day off, you found a beautiful vintage button down. A white base with downward blue stripes with a finely stitched breast pocket containing a 'V' pattern. The cuffs were cinched perfectly. It was a little baggy, too, which you knew Sydney would love.
"Ooh, yeah. I, uh, I really liked that. I think she'd really love it," Carmen nodded, "You gonna get 'er somethin' else with it? Like, to pair with it? Or just the shirt?"
"I was gonna ask you to help me with that, actually," you pointed a finger to Carmen, turning away for just a moment to gently place the empty bowl and spoon into the kitchen sink.
Carmen always thought you had a good eye for other people's tastes. Not just in fashion. The world seemed unpredictable to Carmy. But you made it look so easy, so loving to just know what people wanted. He always wished he had that kind of understanding for people. But for now, he'd admire such a trait you had.
"Hm?"
"I remember she mentioned something about having all these cool tops n' jackets and such, but, like—hardly any nice pants other than those fuckin' jeans she loves."
"Mhm," he stepped closer to you and planted his hands on your shoulders. But you soon reached for them and planted them on your hips, earning a little upward curl of his lip.
"I know you loved those nice jeans like they were your babies 'till you had to sell them," you frowned, entangling your fingers in his messy, blonde curls while your other hand rested on the back of his neck.
"Fuck, I know. Really wish I didn't have to," he tried to let out a breathy laugh to compensate for the genuine disappointment.
Fuck, did he love those pants. Pants were the one piece of fashion Carmen didn't have to second guess himself on. From jeans to slacks, he knew how to pair every possible fabric. And he never knew how to flatter the upper half of his body, so he always wore those dammed white t-shirts.
Not that you were complaining.
Especially right now, the t-shirt highlighting his broad shoulders and exposing his thick arms plastered with sentimental tattoos you always loved. You began to run your hands up and down the exposed skin. He glanced down at your patterned touch, flattered.
"Yeah, yeah. Well, anyway, I need you to help me look for a nice pair of jeans for Sydney. Can y'do that for me, hun?"
Carmen nodded rapidly, his eyes drifting from your lips and back into your eyes. His thumbs rubbed intricate little circles of adoration into your thighs.
"Yeah, baby," he smiled. "This weekend, maybe? I can take a couple hours," tilting his head, he held your chin to pull your face just inches away from his own. Something about your tendencies to make the ones you loved happy with little surprises just warmed him.
"Mhm. That works," you sighed, planting a soft kiss on his lips before wrapping your arms around his neck.
Carmens immediate suggestion just struck something in you. Months ago, he would've thrown excuse after excuse (although valid) as to when he couldn't be available, but never when he could. You felt proud of him.
"You're so good to me, Carmen."
"Yeah?"
He was learning. He was loving.
"Mhm," you barred your bottom lip behind your teeth, giving Carmen's arms a squeeze. He exhaled sharply and wondered where this could've been going.
You drove him a little crazier than he ever liked to admit. A delicate hand reached away from your hip and up to your face. He thumbed your bottom lip, the reflection of the kitchen light shining against your mouth that was glossy with a mix of both of your salivas. Carmen gazed at you in awe, a little embarrassed when he realized how long he'd been staring.
"I—" he shrugged, struggling to find the words, "I'd do it all for you, baby."
Whispering back as he began to cave in, he leaned into your neck and placing an opened mouth kiss on the skin. The smell of your perfume and the natural scent of your body was so familiar to him. It distracted him enough to let his hands roam up and down your torso before repeating that same motion on your thighs.
"Want you t.." you swallowed, your eyes shutting harshly when when he sucked a bruising hickey onto your skin.
"Want me to what, sweet girl?" Carmen mumbled, the butterflies in your stomach raging when his teeth grazed against the spot. You gently anchored your hand into his hair and pulled him away from your neck so you could see him again.
"Want you to treat me tonight," you whispered as your hands travled up to his shoulders.
He wished you could be more specific. But with your pretty eyes, your kiss-swollen lips, your thighs spread against the cold marble counter as they spilled out of your cotton shorts, how could he tease you any longer?
"That I can do."
—
Carmens body seemed to loosen up and relax as his rough hand slid down lower on your back to grab at the waistband of your shorts. You practically melted to his touch. He kissed you again, smiling against your lips as you giggled into the kiss once he slid your shorts down to your ankles. You nodded when he pulled away, ensuring him that he was on the right track.
"Need you t'spread, baby," his hand pried between your soft thighs.
"O—okay," You bit the inside of your cheek as you slowly spread your legs apart. The wet spot of arousal in the middle of your panties was completely in view now. Feeling Carmen's eyes drifting downward, you accidentally drew your knees closer together again.
"Hey," Carmen whispered while he looked into your eyes for an answer, despite your gaze being glued to the floor.
"You okay? We don't have to do thi—"
"No, no," you shook your head, "I want to. Just..not used to it. That's all."
It was true. You'd only tried oral about twice. And it went great, you couldn't deny. But you still struggled to literally open yourself up to him. You just needed a little encouragement.
"You don't have to hide, baby. You look—you are beautiful," he kissed your forehead, "so, so beautiful. Okay?"
Finally feeling some reassurance, you tried again. You spread your legs once again and let Carmen peel your soaked panties down your legs to where your shorts had been. He gave you one last look to see if you were ready, to which you happily nodded.
In the sweetest gesture, Carmen removed his own t-shirt so you wouldn't be alone. He unbuttoned his jeans and tossed them somewhere near the dining table, being left in just his boxers that outlined his slowly hardening cock.
"Thank you," you chuckled.
"Of course."
Carmen began trailing kisses from your neck down to your shoulder blade. His hands gently lifted your tank top over your head before cupping one of your breasts, his fingertips playing with your hard nipple as he kissed you one last time. He sank down to his knees, hooking your calves over his shoulders. You scooted a little closer to the edge of the counter to give him the best access to your throbbing cunt.
"Yep. Right here, baby."
He had you exactly where he wanted you.
You finally looked down at him after avoiding direct eye contact for the past few minutes. His blue eyes fully encapsulated you. He looked gorgeous between your thighs. Especially when he sucked little hickeys that wouldn't actually last against your inner thighs that made you squirm.
"You look pretty like this, bear," your hand reached to brush a loose curl out of his face. The flush that colored his pale cheeks was cute.
"You think so?" Carmen grinned. He relished in the feeling of having such gentle yet everlasting control. In his own kitchen, his beautiful girl in his hands, her thighs around his head, fully willing and wanting to let him take every part of her he could ever imagine.
You were nothing short of perfect to him.
Not wanting to waste any more time, and without preamble, he licked a bold stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit. Your breath hitched in your throat when his grip on your thighs tightened. He started to create a sense of rhythm, roughly sucking on the sensitive mound of nerve endings before soothing it with kitten licks and flat-tongued strides.
Your hand tugged at a handful of his curls. He groaned at the sensation, swirling his tongue around you to feel every fucking inch of your pussy.
"Fuck, Carmy..."
"You got the prettiest pussy, baby. So good and wet for me," he mumbled against you, his eyes still remaining closed. He needed to focus, or else he might fall apart at the sight of pure, filthy pleasure on your pretty face.
"Shut up—" you protested.
Your thighs began to shake as your head reeled back. Carmen hesitated for a moment, wiggling his fingers around anxiously before pulling his mouth away from your vulva and ever so carefully slipping in 2 large fingers.
A long, drawn out moan escaped your mouth the moment he curled his fingers upward into your g-spot. The idea of staying quiet was out of the fucking question. Oh, and now that Carmen's tongue was back on you? Forget it.
"Oh my fucking g—fuck!" you smacked your hand over your mouth, your other hand still entangled in your lovers hair. Pulling and tugging and earning the sexiest groans you'd ever heard in your life.
The sound of your voice slowly raising in pitch was enough for Carmen to change his pace. He inched himself even closer, and at an otherworldly speed flicked his tongue repeatedly against your clit. Over. And over. And over again. But his fingers slowed down to avoid overstimulating you. He needed this to last. Blissfully.
The knot in your stomach that indicated your teeter against your orgasm taunted you.
"Carm, I'm—" you took a short breath moaning incohereant babbles along the lines of 'so fuckin' good, just like that, baby' until you blurted, "I'm probably not gonna last any longer..'S too much."
You'd grown so desperate to cum that your hips ground back and forth, the tip of Carmens tongue perfectly brushing against your sensitive clit while he used the hand that was once fucking you to squeeze the fat of your breast. With his other hand, he reached down to palm his throbbing cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. He pulled his erection out from the cloth and stroked himself slowly, the final moan of "fuck," shortly followed by your name before he harshly sucked on your clit once more, was enough to throw you over the edge.
"Oh, fuck, Carmy!"
After the last couple minutes of him practically making out with your pussy, your body finally allowed itself to release, your legs shaking vigourisly as you tried desparately to catch your breath. You could literally feel a pulse-like sensation on your clit from the orgasm.
It was dirty, filthy; cumming on Carmen's pretty face right on top of his kitchen counter.
But fuck, was it hot.
—
"You think you got another one left in there for me, baby?" Carmen cooed, wrapping your legs around his hips and drawing you in so close that your breasts were pressed against his bare chest. He peppered kisses along your jaw until he resided on your lips, his tongue slipping in to create a sloppy, passionate mess of a kiss.
His clothed hard-on pressed against your clit, which was nearly fully recovered, lacking the overwhelming sensitivity it had just a couple minutes ago.
"Maybe you should find out," you teased against his ear, nipping at the skin of his neck right underneath. You gently pressed your hand against his chest, backing him up just the slightest bit so you could slip his pre-cum soaked boxers with ease.
Without another thought, Carmen carefully lined himself up with your pussy. The head of his dick passed between your folds to build anticipation. Your hands gripped his shoulders, slippery with sweat, once he finally began to push his raw cock into your hole, your arousal serving as a perfect lubricant.
"Fuck," he rasped as he watched his cock disappear into your pussy in awe "so fuckin' tight for me. So pretty n' perfect."
The two of you hardly waited to allow every thrust and slap of skin against skin get messy and rough. With Carmen desperately needing to cum and you anxiously needing to feel him inside of you, there wasn't much consideration for a slow fuck.
"Fuck me, Carmen."
With that, Carmen dug his hands into your hips and pulled several inches out of you before slamming back in. You somehow moaned louder every time. His face contorted to pure, ravenous pleasure and lust as moan and groan after groan writhed from his throat. Your nails clawed at his back, earning a "shit," and his teeth sinking into your shoulder as you ground back and forth against him to achieve the perfect thrusting angle.
"I love you," he whimpered, fucking whimpered his adoration for you. He was completely pussy drunk, his thrusts turning fast and short unlike they were when they started out.
Those words made your heart pound in your head. Sure, you'd exchanged 'I love you's' during the last year or so of your relationship, but you couldn't recall a time it was said during rough-kitchen-counter-sex.
"I love you so fuckin' much, Carm," you sobbed in a fit of utter horniness and overwhelming sense of pleasure, feeling Carmen's thick cock and squeezing your warm, gummy walls around him.
"I'm gonna cum, angel, I—"
"I know, baby. Go ahead. W-want you to fill me up."
Almost as if the universe had been working specifically in your favor, you managed to reach your orgasm just seconds before he did. Every drop of your arousal went down his thigh, while his cum perfectly filled up your cunt. He pulled out slowly watching the white and sticky semen drip down your hole.
"Was that your idea of me 'treating you' tonight?"
writing reader inserts is so funny because it's like. yeah you would NOT say that but now you do and you're gonna enjoy it. it's inevitably pouring a part of you into this fic. it's describing your dissociative daydreams in overly detail to everyone searching specifically for food to feed their dissociative daydreams. it's coming up with a hundred different scenarios on how to get railed by your favorite 2D man and yeah his dick is always big and he wants you so badly. it's playing barbie with Y/N who is like an universal OC at this point. it's going on silly little adventures in my mind and taking you all with me. reader inserts i love you so much.
the way your little blurb was the exact thing that i needed. i mean, did i just finish thanksgiving break and get a ton of rest? maybe. but did i also burn myself out before that? also maybe. so it was absolutely perfect, i loved it sm!
thank you sm!!!!!!! <3 totally relate. i had the biggest pile of essays to crank out and needed all the comfort after the fact.
I found your blog recently and your fics got me kicking and squealing hehe. Idk if this is weird to ask but do you have the full pic of your banner? It's so beautiful. Also I hope you have a good rest of your day ^^
not weird at all! tbh i got it off pinterest, but ik it’s from an InStyle video/shoot from about a year ish ago? thank you sm for reading!!!
your latest blurb is exactly what i needed 😭😭😭 youre so good i honestly closed my laptop n im now going to bed bc you know what! carmy’s (you’re) right!
damn right!!! we tend to forget that we need rest! wishing the best sleep and best week for you bby <3 and for everyone else seeing this too!
Carmy with a stressed cranky gf getting her degree and he’s just so good to her ughhhhhhh (so self-indulgent)
“Carmen, could you—could you just, fuckin’—…watch where you’re going?”
He freezes where he took a misstep, leaving your laptop’s charger dangling near the floor after accidentally unplugging it. A simple little thing, a dumb mistake made while caught up in something else mentally. A matter of a charger extended beyond its comfortable reach. It’d be fixed in seconds, but you weren’t having it.
A confused look washes over him. “I-I’m sorry, baby—” He knows you’re in one of those moods—he always knows—and lowers to pick up the cord. “Lemme plug it back in for you—”
“Or you could just not walk right into it,” you snap, fingers tapping away at your keyboard, face illuminated in a blueish hue from the screen.
“Hey.” He perks right back up after fixing the charger, but you don’t look back at him. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t start that w’me, c’mon.” He comes a little closer, perched at the end of the couch right beside you. “You’re in a mood.”
“I’m not.” You definitely are.
“Baby.” Instinctively, his hand comes to rub your shoulder, his thumb presses just a little firmer along the crook of your neck. “Take a break for the night.”
“I need to finish up with this—”
“‘M not asking.” He gives you that look, with his hands extended to silently demand you hand over your computer. “It’s a Friday night. C’mon.”
You pout, and you huff, and you give him those eyes that tell him you don’t want to, but you save your document and hand it over anyway, quickly curling into the end of the couch and not making a move when he sits next to you.
“You mad at me?” he asks, looping his arm over your shoulder, a little hurt when you don’t melt into his touch like you usually do.
You keep your eyes glued to the wall, not paying him any mind. “No.”
“Then why’re you always workin’, huh?” He squeezes you a little tighter, bringing you deeper into his embrace as he cups your jaw—with those firm, strong hands of his that somehow always have you pliant—and turns you to look up at him. “Every time I come home you’re on the computer with that look on your face.”
“I don’t have a look.”
Smiling, he presses his lips to your forehead. “Yeah you do.” Then to the furrow in your brow. “But it’s cute.”
He scatters slow, gentle kisses across your face, from your temples, to your cheeks, to your jaw, until he finds your lips and takes them carefully, relishing in your act of apology when your hands circle around his forearms and kiss him a little deeper. And slowly, he feels the tenseness in your body begin to dissipate, feels you turn into him more.
Pulling away, still intent on figuring out your rut, he rests his forehead to yours. “Talk to me, baby. What’s got you actin’ all mean, hm?” His hands hold you close, and his thumbs graze your cheekbones. “Somethin’ I do you wanna talk about?”
“No—”
“No?” He’d be lying if he said a wave of relief washed over him. “What’s goin’ on then?”
“I’m—it’s just that—…” You sigh.
He waits patiently, knowing that by now he’s cracking open that shell. “‘S alright, hon, we can work it out.”
“Carmen, I just—” And your lip quivers, and your throat gets sore, and your vision gets bleary from tears emerging. “I have so much to do, and—…”
“For school?”
You nod against him. “It’s just—I get behind on one thing, and then there’s five other things I need to do, and I try to get ahead but then I don’t sleep, and—I-I’m just stressed, is all.”
“I know.” He coos gently at you and thumbs away your tears. “I know, ‘n you’ve been workin’ so hard, baby.”
“Well I’m still not getting anywhere.” Your throat tightens, and tears keep falling, and you feel your resolve crumbling, the last of your strength dissolving now that Carmen’s handling you so gently. “And I just feel so stupid all the time—”
“Uh-uh,” he nudges his nose against yours, “You don’t get to say that, you’re the smartest person I know.”
He pulls you away carefully, just to look you in the eye—and his gut wrenches, seeing you like this, all pouty and wet with tears, your lips salty when he kisses them slowly to mellow the racing of your heart.
With a calm hand he urges your head to rest against his chest, his lips lending a kiss to your temple. “So fuckin’ smart ‘n you don’t even know it.” Naturally, the rest of you follows, with his arms keeping you close, one wrapped around your waist to hold you tight as the other hand rests with on the back of your neck to soothe you, scratching gently at the nape of it. “Always blowin’ me away, baby, you’re so smart. So hardworkin’, too—”
“But Carm—” Your sobs choke you up then, and there’s a throb in your forehead that has you almost begging for sleep.
“Shhh, what is it?” His hand smooths up and down your back, his voice becomes gentler than ever. “Take a breath, c’mon, take a deep breath.”
You push yourself away from his chest, seeing the tears staining his white tee before you look up at him. “I’m sorry, Bear. All the stress, it’s—I’ve been so mean to you lately—” you don’t even process the vigorous shake of his head— “I’m sorry, Bear—”
“Hey, hey, baby, stop—” He wipes tears from your eyes before they get the chance to spill onto your cheeks. “Stop with that, would ya?” Another kiss to your forehead has you melting. “You’re okay. We’re okay.” Another kiss, slower, to your sob-bitten lips, like he wants you to taste his forgiveness.
“But I was mean to you, and I’m sorry—”
His chest physically aches because he knows there’s only so much he can do for you. “I know,” he tells you, “I know, baby, I got you. It’s okay.”
“I promise don’t mean it, Carmen—”
“Yeah, I know that, hon.” Pulling you tight to his chest again, his strong arms wrap around you fully, and he presses kisses to the skin where he’s nuzzled into your neck. “You’re workin’ yourself to the bone, y’know that?”
“Mhm,” you hum, just happy to be held, to be swallowed whole by his warmth.
“You promise to rest up from now on?”
“Mhm.”
“Yeah? Not even listenin’, huh?”
“Mhm.” You burrow into him just a little deeper, eyes slipping shut.
He scoffs, but it’s full of love. “It’s gettin’ late now.” He shuffles you closer to him with little effort, hooking his hands beneath your thighs to encourage them around his hips. “Let’s get you t’bed, hm? C’mon—” he hoists you to his hip with a subtle grunt— “Up you go, baby, that’s it—”
And in the brief minute or two it takes for him to turn out the lights in your shared apartment, and the twenty-some paces to the bedroom, you’re lulled off to sleep in his embrace, stoking that fire in his chest that keeps him going—because knowing you feel safe with him, secure with him, is all he really needs.
Carmy fucking the reader from behind as she screams in pleasure is the best thing to imagine ever
“Fuck, Carmy—” The granite’s cool to the touch as you close your eyes and rest your head, skin already on fire with Carmen’s hands drawing up your waist. “Please, baby—ah—” you whine a little louder at a firmer thrust— “Just wanna come—”
“I know, baby—”
And oh, does he know. He knew the second he saw your text by noon, a sultry little thing asking him to come home on his lunch break. A picture at that, of you in one of the few button up shirts he owns, a pale blue he likes on you more than himself. Just one button secured, your tits teasing at the edge of the fabric where it hung from your shoulders. ‘Come keep me company for a little?’ you said. With a question mark, too, like he’d ever deny you.
So that’s how you ended up pressed against the counter, button up long since discarded, your panties shoved to your knees out of urgency, though Carmen isn’t much better, what with his jeans just low enough to pull out his cock as you begged for it.
“You like it, baby?” he huffs, one hand gripping the fat of your ass while the other presses into the small of your back to keep you bouncing back to meet his hips. “Miss it so much you gotta—fuck—gotta have me leave work f’you, huh?”
You’re so fucked out by now you can’t even say a proper response, just a chorus of Mhmmmm and Yes yes yes and Please, Carmy and Ah ah ah and Fuckkkkk and Love it s’fuckin’ much warbled out through kiss-swollen lips made even more tender when tugged between teeth. A mess is what you are, really, because Carmen always knows just how to fuck you, how to give you what you need, so perfect in the way you whine his name and take his cock.
When you’re reaching the end of your wire, then, he’s more than happy to pull you that much tighter to his chest, manhandling you upright as he paws at your pretty tits and kisses your jaw, because he knows you deserve it.
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