Summary: you want to try smoking, you’re just curious of the taste. Carmy’s not too fond of the idea. You guys compromise.
Word count: 800+
Tags: smoking, implied/referenced sex, thigh riding, Carmy calls you a bitch (in a hot way though), reader cums quick
a/n: Happy valentines day! My valentines is all the fiction men and women write fanfics about. Tittle inspired by one of my favorite tv girl songs <3 @deansdeer @yeschefcarmy
Carmen always smokes after.
It doesn’t matter how exhausted he is after splitting you open on his cock, After, he’s always gonna reach for that pack on the nightstand.
Tonight, it’s no different. He’s sitting up against the headboard, still completely bare, sheets pooling around his hips, showing off his v lines. The room smells like sweat and sex.
He lights his cigarette with one hand, the other rubbing slow circles on your bare back while you rest your head on his chest.
You watch as he takes a drag and blows the smoke up into the air.
“Can I try?” you ask.
He doesn’t even look at you. “No.”
“Carmy…”
“No.”
You push yourself up on your elbows, hair still messy and lips still swollen. “Just once.”
He flicks ash into the ashtray on the nightstand, jaw tight. “It’s bad for you.”
“That’s not what you say when you’re doing it.”
“That’s different.”
You pout, crawl to where you’re now sitting in his lap, resting your hands on his chest. “Just one drag, please? I probably won’t even like it.”
He just looks at you, expression flat, still holding his cig in his mouth.
You lean in closer. “Please.”
He shakes his head then sighs. “Fine. But you’re not putting it in your mouth.”
“Huh? But that’s the whole—”
“Not happening.”
Before you can argue further, he takes your jaw firmly in his hand, taking a long drag.
“Open.” he says.
You do.
He presses his mouth to yours in something that’s almost kiss, but not quite. The smoke spills into your mouth. it’s warm, thick, intimate in a way that makes your stomach tighten.
You pull back immediately, coughing, eyes watering.
“Oh my god, that tastes awful…”
He smirks faintly. “Told you.”
“It tastes like shit.”
“Yeah.”
Besides the slight burning feeling in your throat, you feel something twist in your stomach. The way he held your face. The way the smoke poured from his mouth into yours.
You swallow. “Do it again.”
“Thought you hated the taste” he says quietly.
“I do, but…It’s hot when you do it.”
He stubs the cigarette out in the ashtray. The room feels heavier without the soft light of the flame.
“Yeah?” he murmurs.
You nod.
His thumb presses into your jaw. His mouth moves against yours deliberately, gently bitting your bottom lip as the smoke passes between you two.
It makes you shiver.
When you pull back this time, you don’t cough.
You lick your lips instead.
He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Jesus.”
Your hand slides down his chest without thinking. He tenses, body still buzzing like a live wire.
“Easy.” he warns softly.
You look up at him, batting your lashes. “I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re thinking ‘bout it.”
You shift in his lap, both of you still complete naked. Your lower body pressing against his, still, slightly limp cock.
His jaw tightens.
“Baby.”
You tilt your head. “Hm?”
“Still need a minute” he admits. His voice is rougher now. “You wore me out.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t start.”
You lean in, brushing your mouth along his collar bone, the faint taste of smoke still on in your mouth. “I’m not starting.” you giggle softly.
He sighs. “You’re trouble.”
“Im your trouble.”
That does something to him.
He shifts you to sit on his thigh instead. “If you’re gonna be a needy little bitch” he mutters, voice rough “You can hump my leg like the dog you are.”
Your breath hitches as heat floods your face. “C-Carmy...”
“You’re the one who wanted to play” he says flatly.
You bury your face in his neck, embarrassed but also needy.
When you actually start to move it’s careful. Just a small rolls of your hips, hesitant and careful.
He hums, amused “come on. I know you can do better than that.”
You whine at the comment, frantically speeding up your movements, as his words only spur you on. Your clit drags across his warm skin, leaving a trail of the mixture that is your arousal and whatever’s left from when he came inside you.
His hands grip your hips firmly, but he doesn’t guide you. He just lets you figure it out.
You keep moving, it’s rushed. Frantic. Desperately trying to chase that small amount of heat that never fully left.
His thumbs press into your hipbone, grounding you when your rhythm becomes jerky.
“Atta girl” he says quietly.
You grind down more confidently now, finding a pace that makes you overwhelmed.
It’s not long before you slump forward against his chest, breath unsteady, forehead pressing to his shoulder.
He wraps his arms around you automatically.
“Don’t pick up my bad habits.” he murmurs into your ear.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I need more stuff with his ass in it. Not even in just a smut way necessarily, like yeah your grabbing onto that shit if he’s fucking you in missionary, but you’re just obsessed with his pasty ass in general
Cuddling? You just squeeze his butt when you feel like it, maybe just hold it too like how someone would do with a boob
You also jokingly cat-call him sometimes. Just saying something like “nice ass, gorgeous” in a sleazy way, maybe if his pants are a bit tighter or if he’s changing.
And god forbid you work at the beef, and the staff doesn’t know y’all are dating.
You’re just walk past him and just casually slap his ass since you do it so much at home that it’s second nature atp. Obviously heads are turning. Maybe they saw it, maybe not. Someone probably thought it was Carmy who smacked your ass, and is about to tear him a new one.
Edit: I made a fic about it
@deansdeer what do we think about this
I’d also like to note that I’m not even an ass person. But his ass…🤤
I’d like to request Carmy x fem!reader that’s kinda a slow burn of sorts, maybe reader is Sydney’s or Claire’s friend and she gets introduced to Carmy…
Something something Richie finds out about Carmy and reader and he tells everyone at the bear
A lazy little Carmy x reader slowburn!
Word count: 400+
At first you where only here when Sydney was. And only before open or after close.
The first time you show up he didn’t acknowledge you. He couldn’t care less about your presence unless you were to get in the way.
You don’t take it personally. You sit on a chair and chat with Syd, coffee in hand, legs swinging, watching the kitchen come alive. Carmy moves like everything is urgent and fragile at the same time.
You notice how he breathes. Short. Controlled. It’s like he’s constantly holding himself back from bashing his head in against the wall.
After close it’s different.
The first night you stay late Sydney leaves before you. She looks at you over her shoulder.
“Don’t stay too late.”
“I won’t!” you promise.
You do anyway.
Carmy’s scrubbing a prep table that’s already spotless when he finally glances up. “You don’t gotta wait up.”
“I know.” you say. “I want to.”
He hesitates like your answer scares him.
That’s how it starts. Quiet. Casual.
You keep coming before open. Then a little earlier, before Syd even gets there. You start staying later after close.
Sometimes you help. Sometimes you just sit.
He starts giving you drinks without asking. Saving you boxed up leftovers. Starts to get comfortable when it’s only you around.
One night you’re leaning against the stainless steel counter, arms crossed, watching him pace.
“You okay?” you ask.
He shakes his head automatically. “Yeah.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“…No.” he admits.
You don’t push. You just stay.
That’s the night he kisses you.
It’s hesitant. You can feel his hands trembles as he cups your jaw.
It’s real.
Not loud. Not confident. But real.
You don’t stay during service hours. You don’t get in the way during prep. You don’t tell Sydney, even though it eats at you.
After close, though? He presses his forehead against yours and breathes like he he’s been holding his breath all day.
“I’m bad at this…” he tells you one night, sitting on the floor by the walk-in.
“You’re actually trying” you say. “That’s what matters”
He chuckles softly. “Yeah.”
You manage it to be a couple of months before Richie finds out.
Because of course he does.
He forgot his phone. He comes barreling back in after close like a force of nature.
You’re wearing Carmy’s coat, sitting on the prep table, him standing between your legs, hands resting on your knees.
Richie freezes mid-step.
“…No fucking way.”
Carmy stiffens. “Richie—”
“You.” Richie points at you. “You’re Syd’s friend!”
You grimace. “Hey...”
Richie laughs, loud and wild. “I KNEW IT.”
“It’s not—” Carmy starts.
“Oh, it is what it look like” Richie says, already knowing what he’s gonna say, and backing toward the door. “I’m telling EVERYONE.”
“Don’t.” Carmy snaps.
Richie just grins. “Love you, cousin.”
The next morning, you come in early like always.
Except Richie’s already there. And so is everyone else…
“HEY” Richie yells the second you walk in. “LOOK WHO IT IS.”
.“Richie, stop.” Carmy grits through his teeth.
“Chef’s got a girlfriend.”
The room goes quiet.
Sydney’s eyes flick to you. Then Carmy. Then back.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Summary: poor Carmy. He never really quits. He just says he did.
Word count: 800+
Tags: A light bit of angst
a/n: here’s a little something something based off the song cigarettes out the window by tv girl while I work on some other up and coming fics <3
You wake up because the bed is empty.
Not fully wake up—just that half-conscious tug where your body realizes something’s off before your brain catches up. His side id cold. For a second you think maybe he just got up for water.
Then you hear it.
The sink running. Soft. Steady.
The faint sound of toothpaste being spit out.
You squint at the clock.
2:14 a.m.
“Carmy?” Your voice is heavy with sleep, barely loud enough to be audible.
No answer at first. Just the water. Then the cabinet closing. Footsteps.
He appears in the doorway, face damp like he splashed water on his face.
His eyes soften the second he sees you propped up on one arm.
“Hey...” he murmurs. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
You blink at him. “What are you doing?”
He exhales shakealy as he sits on the edge of the bed, mattress dipping under his weight. He reaches out to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear like it’s muscle memory.
“Couldn’t sleep…” he sighs. “Go back to bed, yeah?”
You watch his face too closely. The way he won’t quite make eye contac. The way his jaw is tighter than usual.
He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. Soft. The kind meant to soothe. To end the conversation before it starts.
Except it doesn’t.
Because underneath the mint flavor of toothpaste and mouthwash, it's there. Bitter. Familiar.
Smoke.
Your stomach drops.
You don’t say anything. You just lie there and let it sit on your tongue, the taste is unmistakable. It clings to your tongue like it always does. Like it did the last time. And the time before that. And even before that.
He pulls back, already halfway out of the moment. “Okay?” he asks quietly.
You swallow. “Yeah.”
It’s a lie. You both know it is.
He hesitates like he wants to say something else, but decides against it. He slips back under the covers and turns to face you. His arm resting on your waist, grounding in the way he always is.
You stare at him.
After a minute, you say “You smell like mint.”
He stiffens. Just barely. But you feel it.
“Yeah.” he says. “Brushed my teeth.”
“Mmhmm.”
Silence is thick between you.
You don’t even mean to say it like this. It just slips out.
“I can still taste it...”
His arm tightens around you. Not rough. Just… reflexive.
“Taste what?” he asks, too quickly.
You close your eyes. “The smoke.”
The word hangs in the air like a accusation.
He doesn’t respond right away. You can practically see the nervousnessjn his eyes, deciding which version of the truth he’s going to give you tonight.
Finally: “I told you I quit.”
“Yeah... You always say that.”
“It's hard, okay?” he says, a little sharper now.
“You don't think this is hard for me too?”
His eyes flick away. To the wall. To the ceiling. Anywhere but you.
“I’m trying” he mutters.
“You said you were done” you say quietly.
“I am done.” he snaps, then immediately softens. “I mean…fuck. I am trying to be done.”
You push yourself up onto your elbow again. Your heart starting to feel less like it's pounding, and more like it's bleeding.
“Carmy, you disappear most nights. I wake up and you’re just…gone. And then you come back smelling like smoke and try to hide it.”
He winces at that.
“I just—” He stops. Running a hand over his face. “I don’t wanna wake you.”
“So you sneak around instead?”
“I’m not sneaking” he says. “I just can’t sleep. My head gets loud and—”
“And the cigarette helps...” you finish.
He doesn’t deny it.
That hurts more than if he did.
You lie back down, staring at the ceiling now. “I’m not mad that you’re struggling” you say quietly. “I’m mad that you keep lying to me.”
“I don’t wanna disappoint you.”
You let out a shaky breath. “Then stop making promises you can’t keep.”
Silence again.
When he speaks, his voice is shaky. “You think I don’t know how shitty this makes me feel?”
You finally look at him. His eyes are glassy. Tired in a way that no amount of sleep could ever fix.
“I go out there and I tell myself it’s just one.” he says. “Just to take the edge off. And then I’m brushing my teeth like it’ll erase it. Like you won’t know.”
Your chest aches. “I always know.”
“I know…” he whispers.
You reach out without thinking, thumb brushing over his knuckles.
“I hate that it’s hurting you.”
He leans his forehead against yours, eyes closing. “I don’t wanna be this person.”
“I don’t want you to be either, I know you’re not.” you mumble softly.
Another beat.
“Can you just—” he starts, then stops. Swallows. “Forgive me? Please?”
You hesitate for a second.
Then nod. “Yeah.”
He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours and pulls you closer, burying his face in your hair. You can still smell it on his shirt. The smoke. The mess of it all.
You let yourself sink into him anyways.
loving him means sitting in the hurt with him, even when it tastes like cigarettes and broken promises.
