Hi Hun! I Just Love Love Love Your Pieces

Hi hun! I just love love love your pieces <3

As for Carmy prompts - could we have some hurt to comfort when Carmen doesn't show up for a date? It's ok if you dont wanna do it or i requested incorrectly, but if you do, i cant wait to read!!!!! Thank you so much mwah mwah mwah

I’m not thaaaaaat sure how I feel about this and it’s so long but your request was so sweet I had to!!! Ily <3333

wc:1.1k

There’s so fucking much in his ear. Fak’s screaming whatever bullshit he’s sure will help absolutely nothing, Richie’s harassing Sydney and Tina’s trying to keep them all in line and will of that goddamn chaos, he shouldn’t be able to make out anything.

Prepping this whole thing, the opening, Richie biting his head off for fucking sending him to the best kitchen in the city- it’s all a bit fucking much.

He barely hears the door open (she has a key, because of course she does) and he doesn’t even look over his shoulder as he calls out her name.

“Hey, baby,” he yells back towards the entrance. It feels good, chopping the vegetables. It’s actually one of her favorite dishes that he’s making, and something inside him preens that he gets to feed her tonight. Everything feels illustrious under her gaze. He remembers the first time he’d cooked for her, how her watchful gaze felt a bit like sunlight; equal parts burning and doused in light.

She’d said she liked his hands, then. Said he looked pretty with a knife and a cutting board. “Will you try this sauce for me?”

He hears her heels click, the soft thud of her purse landing on the couch. It’s a slow saunter she does to him, but he’s razor focused- what does it need, garlic? Oregano?

It only breaks when he sees her. And she looks gorgeous. Wearing a black dress with a cowl neck, shimmery eyeshadow that catches and dances in the low light of the kitchen, a crimson lipstick neatly applied to her beautiful pout.

She smells like vanilla, and Carmen has the privilege of knowing what real, rich, Madagascar vanilla smells like. He’d loved the scent so much that he’d bought her a perfume made from it, and there’s a warmth blooming in his chest when he realizes that she’s wearing it.

Wordlessly, she opens her mouth and leans forward to try the sauce covered wooden spoon he’d raised to her lips.

Even when she’s in front of him, he can’t believe she’s someone he knows. That she’s wasting her time with someone like him.

“Jesus Christ you look beautiful,” he says without thinking, and he kisses her quick. It’s true. She’s a vision, plucked out of an old movie shot on grainy film, warm to the touch film.

He abandons the spoon and the sauce without much fanfare, a rough, calloused hand meeting her soft warm cheek.

“Thanks, Carmen.” she says, but her doe-eyes deny the joy she typically exudes in his presence. It’s his proudest achievement, how she glows around him. She’s tight lipped, smile betraying her words.

“What’s wrong? Is it the sauce? I know it’s a mess in here, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d see it-“

“No! No, seriously, it’s okay, honey.” She tries to insist but it really doesn’t work. He moves the pot off the burner and twists himself completely to face her, placing a gentle hand at the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. He tries not to let it sting, how she stiffens for a moment before softening again.

“What happened?” He asks again.

“It’s the first,” she says, a rueful grin on her pretty lips, before gesturing down at her outfit, and oh.

The dinner. The fucking dinner that he’d promised her. His sweet girl, who waited up every night, who dutifully tasted every recipe, who soothed him on nights where nightmares stole his sleep-

“Fuck,” he says, more to himself than her, but god, he can’t stop looking at her, “Fuck! God, I’m such an asshole, I’m so sorry-“ he insists, suddenly so grateful that she’s letting him touch her, even more aware of every point of contact with the sudden fear that it could escape in a moment’s notice.

“Y’know, Carm, if you could’ve just told me that would’ve been one thing? But I left the reservation, and this was the one night we both had off!”

“I know, baby, fuck, I forgot-“

She backs away from him, and there’s a sick feeling in his stomach. Sitting on the chair he keeps by the stove (he put it there for her, because she loved watching him) she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“It’s just not fair, Carm. To either of us. If you don’t have time for this-“

“I have time for this! I have time. Don’t say things like that.”

“Carmy, I’m not trying to hurt you. You know that’s the last thing I want.”

And it is. It’s the last thing she wants, and Carmen fucking knows it. Knows that three months in he’s supposed to have brought her flowers and taken her out and done more than cook for her and spend hours in his shitty apartment, and lately she’s been asking if he has time for being in a relationship.

And maybe he doesn’t, but fuck it if he doesn’t feel like he can breathe around her. This was the point of the dinner- take her out, be a boyfriend. Have her wait a little while on him. Show her he’s worth it.

Instead he fucking missed it, stayed home and made sauce no one would even eat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, grabbing her hand and lacing it through his own. It always shocks him, how it fits his own. “Okay? I’m so, so fuckin’ sorry. Tell me what I can do. Tell me, cos I’ll do just about fuckin’ anything to get you to stop saying shit like that.”

Her voice comes out small.

“I was alone, Carm. They kept trying to take my order and you weren’t there, and eventually I had to leave.“

She looks up at him, eyes sparkling and kind and Carmen. She looks beautiful, and if he wasn’t with her, he’d see her in the street and hate whatever fuck was lucky enough to be who she got dressed up for.

“I am so, so sorry. It’s just with the stove, and Fak, and Richie fucking calling me to bitch me out every thirty seconds,” she reaches her delicate fingers to brush his cheek with concern, “I should’ve remembered. It’s just about the only thing this week worth remembering. And you look…stunning, I should’ve been there. I should’ve. Please.”

Her expression softens and he loves the sight of her, warm and kind and lovely in both form and temperance. She’s so patient with him, responds with kindness- a gift.

She brushes her soft lips on his cheek and he tries to savor the sensation, note how warm and wonderful it is to have her form pressed against his, how her arms knot themselves around his waist.

“I know you’re stressed, babe,” she murmurs against his cheek, eyes shut, “tell you what. Why don’t you make me something better than what that place could’ve, huh?”

After he kisses her for so long that excess is no longer the right terminology, he makes her the best pasta she’s ever had in her goddamn life.

It’s better this way, anyway. She’s gorgeous in a way that’s just his to look at tonight.

hiii i luv ur work^^ can i request a fic where carmy get sucked off so good it makes his brain short-circuit a little? like he came home all tired and pent up n reader just "blow" it all away. wanna see this man get taken care of🥺 he's alway got so much on his mind i just wanna see him fucked till his brain is empty

Short Circuit.

Carmy doesn’t know how to shut his brain off. Luckily, you do.

pairing - roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing.

word count - 1.8k

authors note - carmy’s a little bitch in this one!! mwahahaha!! to my love who requested - i’m sorry I ended up making him a bit pathetic here, but in my defence… he does give off the energy of a wet cat, so. this set in the roommates universe, but the fics have no particular order <3

if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which in turn creates more. <3

masterlist. inbox. series masterlist.

“Sit the fuck down.”

Carmy blinks at you like a deer caught in headlights, confused and struggling to process.

“W-what?”

“You heard me, Carmen. Sit the fuck down before I shove you there myself.”

You gesture at the couch only a few feet away, crossing your arms over your chest expectantly.

He exhales shakily before placing his mug of coffee on the kitchen counter, walking over to do as you ordered.

He’s never really been bossed around by you before. Sure, you scold him occasionally, warn him when he does something wrong, but never like this. He can’t tell if he likes it. He thinks that maybe he does.

He gets comfy on the couch, sitting back against the cushions and spreading his legs. His white t shirt spreads deliciously across his broad shoulders, tight and worn. His old flannel pyjama pants look so cosy, you itch to reach out and run your hand across them.

Carmy’s watching you curiously, waiting for your next move. He can’t predict what’s going to happen, which would usually make him nervous. But right now, he’s got electricity buzzing through his veins, crackling and charged.

You set your own mug down and saunter over in his direction, as if you have all the time in the world. You stop at the window and shut the blinds, smirking over your shoulder when he raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Don’t want to give the neighbours a show.”

Carmy’s breath hitches in his chest, panting with anticipation. You crack your knuckles and stretch your arms above your head, suppressing a laugh when you see his eyes glued to the skin you expose between your t shirt and pyjama pants.

You stand in front of where he’s sat, patient and waiting. You look so tall, looking down on him, so completely powerful. He’s suddenly very confused by his own feelings.

“I’m sick of you bitching and moaning,” you begin, dropping to your knees on the patterned rug. “So I’m gonna make you shut the fuck up.”

Carmy suddenly sits up straight, full attention captured.

“What?”

“God, do you ever listen, Carmen?”

He’s silenced by your rebuttal, so you continue.

“You’re stressed to the max, and you don’t know how to leave work at work. You bring it home, complain for hours, and then wonder why you can’t relax. You need to shut your brain off.”

Carmy swallows harshly, eyes never leaving yours.

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“You’re not. I’m gonna do it for you.”

With that, you rise up onto your knees so you’re face to face with your roommate.

“You okay with this?” you whisper, searching his features for any signs of trepidation.

“More than okay,” he breathes, leaning in to you. “Kiss me first? Please?”

You don’t think anyone would be able to resist him in this moment, when he looks and asks so pretty.

“Whatever you want, babe.”

You press your lips to his gently, resting the waters. Carmy instantly pulls you in with his arms around your back, deepening the kiss. You slip your tongue into his mouth and take control, nipping at his bottom lip when he gets too cocky.

“I’m in charge,” you tell him lowly. “If you wanna stop, say stop. But otherwise, I’m gonna keep going until you can’t remember your own name.”

Carmen’s eyes roll back at the promise, head hitting the sofa behind him as he groans. You settle back down between his legs, pulling his pyjama pants off and throwing them aside.

You trail open mouthed kisses up his thighs, starting at his knee and ending at his hip. Occasionally you bite down, soothing the sting with your tongue as you go. When he starts to fidget, you fully sink your teeth into his muscle, sharp and warning. He flinches, and you smirk.

“Patience, Carmen.”

“Don’t wanna be fuckin’ patient,” he grumbles under his breath, petulant as ever.

You look up at him firmly, and he gets the message.

Running your fingers up and down his thigh, you sit and enjoy the way goosebumps rise across his skin. You’re on a power trip, buzzing with the adrenaline of having a man like Carmy at your mercy.

“Good things come to those who wait,” you tease, before dancing your fingertips across the material of his boxers. His hips buck up into your hand and you relent, pulling his underwear down and off in one quick move.

He hisses as the cool air of the room hits his heated skin, the combination of sensations overwhelming.

You kiss along his hipbones, tasting salt and the musk that’s so Carmy. Nudging your nose into the juncture of his thigh, you chuckle when he shudders.

“Please, babe.”

“What do you want, Carm?”

“Just- just do something, please. Anything.”

Maybe it’s the rare show of manners, or maybe it’s his pleading tone, but you finally take pity on him. Grasping him in your hand, you give your wrist an experimental twist, biting your lip when he groans.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, all breathy and strained. He sounds so pretty like this, all loose limbed and pliable. “Shit, babe. Yeah.”

You take your time learning what he likes. Twisting, pulling, applying a little pressure. Carmy is writhing in his seat, completely unable to keep still. You keep pushing his hips back down firmly, putting him in his place.

He has his eyes screwed shut, head thrown back into the couch cushions, gorgeous neck exposed. You take him by surprise by wrapping your lips around him, sucking gently. His hand flies to your head, grasping for grip, for any kind of anchor.

You double down on your efforts, twisting your wrist as you hollow your cheeks. You rake the nails of your other hand down his thigh, squeezing occasionally to let him know you’re still good.

You feel his muscles go tense, knuckles gripping the cushion underneath him. He’s right on the edge - you can sense it.

So, you stop.

You pull away completely, laughing when his eyes shoot open, brows furrowed together.

“W-what? What the fuck? Why’d you stop?”

“Because I can.”

Carmy doesn’t even have the energy to come up with a sarcastic response. Instead, he sinks further into the couch, looking down at you with those big blue eyes.

“Babe.”

“So whiny. Jesus, Carmen, have some self respect.”

On any other day, he wouldn’t take that lying down. He’d sass you twice as hard, smirking when you roll your eyes. But today, he doesn’t have it in him.

“Please.”

“Oh you sound so pretty when you beg.”

He blushes, heat blooming up his chest and across his cheeks. He reaches out and traces your lips with his thumb, a tender gesture among all of the filth currently occurring.

“Do it more.”

He blinks at you, wondering if he heard you correctly.

“What?”

“Listen for once in your life, Berzatto. I said, do it more. Beg. Beg for it, and I’ll make you come.”

Carmy thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He’s never seen this side of you before - in all honesty, you didn’t know it existed. He’s discovering a lot about himself tonight, and as confusing as it is, he’s loving it.

“Please, honey. Please.”

You click your tongue disapprovingly, shaking your head.

“Nuh uh. I want you to beg so hard that I am dripping, Carmen. Make it count.”

“You’re getting off on this,” he chuckles in disbelief. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

You mime tapping an imaginary watch on your wrist, signalling him to hurry up. In reality, you’d kneel here on the rug all night if he wanted, content to watch him all high strung and flushed.

“Okay, okay. Sweetheart, please. Fuck, I need it. Need it so bad. Need you so bad. Just- give me anything, something, please.”

His voice has gone all breathy, shaky and unsure. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and the mental image of him crying because of you turns you on more than it should.

“Oh baby,” you coo. “Was that so hard? Hmm?”

He shakes his head, bitten lip between his teeth.

“Gonna give you what you need now, because you were so good. My pretty, pretty boy.”

It might be your tone, or it might be because you called him your boy, but Carmy melts. He’s nothing but a puddle, mewling and panting, no coherent thoughts left in his brain.

You get back to work, hollowing your cheeks and working whatever you can’t fit in your mouth with your soft hands. You swirl your tongue, pressing it to the underside of him when you pull back slightly for air.

You wonder, for a second, if you’ve broken your roommate. Nonsense is leaving his lips in constant streams, babbling under his breath like he’s lost his mind.

“Yeah baby, keep going please, please don’t stop.”

“Fuck you’re so good, s’good, so good.”

“Just wanna come, please honey, I’ll do anything. Anything you want.”

“Ohhh, yesyesyes, oh fuck, thank you baby, shit.”

You keep humming in response, and the vibrations are Carmy’s undoing. His hips jolt upwards as his back arches off the couch, fingers scrambling for purchase. He hits the back of your throat and you groan, letting him ride it out however he needs. He relaxes back into his original position, body completely spent.

You squeeze his thigh to get his attention, making sure he watches as you swallow everything he’s given to you. He groans, low and tired, shaking his head with a smile on his face. You rest your head on his leg, looking up at him.

“You good, Carm?”

He nods, trying to gather the energy to answer you properly.

“Yeah,” he says after a while. “I genuinely think I’ve never been better.”

You laugh, and the sound makes him grin, all slow and saccharine.

“I can’t move. Think you’ve ruined me.”

“That was the plan,” you wink, standing up and pulling his boxers back up his legs.

You grab a bottle of water from the kitchen, watching as he downs it all in one go. Sitting next to him on the couch, he pulls you into his side, slotting you there perfectly.

“Thank you,” he whispers into the evening dusk of the room. “Not just for making me come harder than I ever have in my life. But, you know… for everything.”

You chuckle, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Of course. You’d do the same for me.”

“Next time you have a bad day, I’m gonna throw you on the couch and eat you out until you cry.”

You groan, pinching his thigh in warning.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

@enigmaticloki @kaelabear @idontexist-anymore @jazminsjaz @kingsqueensandvagabonds

hi!! can i request carmy berzatto #16, t? 🤭

Finders, Keepers.

16. "Is that my shirt?" + t. Roommates

Author's Note - this is written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. my first time writing for beautiful angel boy carmy <3

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! + cursing

Word Count - 1185

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

The Roommate Collection.

Having Carmen Berzatto as a roommate is a blessing and a curse.

It's a blessing for many reasons. He's kind, thoughtful, considerate. He cooks, he cleans, he loads the dishwasher correctly. He's fairly quiet, he respects your boundaries, he always lets you choose the movie to watch. He's perfect in every way, really.

He's perfect in every way. That's the curse.

He's the most attractive man you've ever laid your eyes on. And he cooks. And he cleans. And he's the best roommate you could ever ask for. You're convinced anyone would struggle not to fall in love with him. Anyone.

You've fallen victim to the Berzatto charm. As much as you'd love to tell him, you don't want to ruin this good thing the two of you have. It's not worth it. So, you keep your mouth shut, and your eyes glued to his perfect face whenever he's not looking. It's sometimes painful, but it works.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're woken up bright and early by someone knocking on your bedroom door.

"I'm making breakfast. Lesson, or nah?"

Before you met Carmy, you couldn't really cook. Sure, you knew the basics, but he's opened you up to all sorts of new techniques and flavours. Whenever he starts to prepare a meal, he'll ask you if you want a lesson. Sometimes, you'll say no, content to watch him do his thing in the kitchen. More often than not, you'll say yes, allowing him to talk you through what he's doing and why. He explains everything step by step, always ensuring he's thorough but never patronising. These little cooking lessons allowed the both of you to get to know each other, bonding you together.

"Yeah, sure!" you call through the door, still half asleep. "Give me a minute."

You hear him turn the coffee maker on, the sounds of mugs clinking together filling the kitchen.

You stumble out of bed, grabbing around for something to wear. You find a dark grey t shirt on the chair and throw it over your head haphazardly. Pulling some socks on to tackle the morning chill, you run your fingers through your hair before making your way through the apartment.

Carmy's wearing his navy plaid pyjama pants and a white t shirt that hugs his biceps just right. His hair is sticking up in all directions, and it takes everything in you not to reach out and fix it into place.

"Morning, sweetheart," he says without turning around. "What do you want for breakfast, pancakes or waffles?"

"Hmmm," you debate. "Waffles, I think."

"Waffles it is."

Carmen turns around from where he's been brewing the coffee, and almost falls over. You're stood leaning against the counter, hair mussed and eyes still sleepy. Your legs are on full display, socks ending just above your ankle, skin glowing in the morning light. You smell like warmth and a golden sunrise. Carmy holds onto the mug in his hand like his life depends on it.

"Coffee," he stutters, handing it to you. You cross the kitchen and take it from him, kissing him on the cheek as a thank you. You both pretend not to notice the way heat blooms up his chest at the action.

The longer he looks at you, the more he can't put his finger on what it is that's driving him insane. There's something different about you this morning, and it's got him riled up. His eyes rake over your body once, twice, three times before he figures it out.

"Is that my shirt?"

You look down to find that yes, it is. You must have picked it up from the pile of clean laundry he did yesterday accidentally.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, Carmy."

"No, it's okay. You look... you... it's - fuck."

You've never seen his brain short circuit like this, and you're not entirely sure what's happening.

"Are you... alright, Carmy?"

"God," he groans. "Stop saying my name like that."

"... like what?"

"Like... fuck. You say it so fuckin' pretty."

He has a look in his eyes you've never seen before. It's almost animalistic. He looks feral.

He strides over to you, cradling your face in his calloused hands. He presses his forehead to yours, and exhales shakily.

"Will you let me taste you, honey?" he murmurs.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your knees go weak. It's a good job he's holding you up.

"Please," he practically begs. "I'll make you feel real good."

You answer him by smashing your lips to his, hands fisting in the front of his shirt. He kisses you back with vigour, tongues tangling and mouths melding. You moan and he swallows it, committing the sound to memory.

Carmy walks you backwards and hoists you up onto the edge of the kitchen table, before dropping to his knees. He looks debauched, knelt in front of you with wide eyes and swollen lips. You think he's never looked prettier.

He starts by kissing up from your ankles to your thighs, building the tension expertly. You're practically vibrating with anticipation, desperate to feel him where you need him most. Your underwear is soaked through, and you're convinced you're going to go insane if he doesn't get his mouth on you soon.

As if he's reading your mind, he nudges his nose against your covered core, inhaling. He groans at your scent, and it's the filthiest thing you've ever seen. He pulls your underwear down in one quick swoop, looking up at you carefully. You grab the hem of your shirt, ready to pull it over your head, but Carmy stops you.

"Leave it on," he mutters. "Please."

You nod your head, and he takes that as confirmation. He dives into you, lapping you up like a man parched. He's nipping, biting, suckling at you as if he's done it a thousand times before. You prop yourself on your elbows, giving you the perfect view of this perfect man in this perfect situation. He's so eager to please you it makes your heart and your core ache.

"Fuck," he groans. "Sweetest thing I've ever tasted."

He slips two fingers into you with ease, and your back arches. You're writhing, moaning on every out breath, struggling to inhale. Is there anything this man can't do?

You can feel your orgasm building, warm and persistent in your stomach. Carmy can too.

"Come on, honey," he begs. "Give it to me. I want it. Let me have it."

You're not sure if it's his dulcet tone or the way his fingers curl on every upstroke, but you fall apart, hips keening and back canting. You whine his name and he groans, low and deep.

"There we go," he's muttering. "Good girl. That's it. Atta girl."

When he's satisfied you're satisfied, he stands up and kisses you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his bitten lips.

"No Michelin star dish is ever going to compare to that," he teases against your mouth. You both laugh, giddy off of each other.

"Shut up," you giggle. "Now, are we making waffles, or what?"

Idk if you have seen that one text ss where the guy is like "take a nap" and then a few hours later he goes "I said a nap not a fucking coma" feel like that would be sooooo rafe x reader, like reader just falls asleep anywhere and everywhere and rafe is just like "girl.....😐"

thought of two instances of this! thank u for requesting, i hope u enjoy!

“hey, hey,” rafe shakes your arm, sighing. “mm.. r-rafe?” you mumble, your vision a bit blurry as you wake up, yawning. “w-what you doing here?” you question in a little groggy voice, getting shy as you can see him a little clearer. he was just so handsome. “the fuck you mean? you didn’t answer my texts all fuckin’ day. got worried.” he confesses, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“oh.. yea,” you giggle softly. “was jus’ getting my beauty sleep, papi.”

“b-beauty sleep? you serious? it’s 1:30 in the afternoon.” he scolds in a condescending tone. “papiii,” you whine, hiding your face in your pillow. “you’re judging me. can feel it.”

you hear him sigh, rolling his eyes. “not judging, ma. jus’.. curious how someone can sleep that long.” “well.. it’s because it gets tiring being the worlds best girlfriend, lotta weight on my back,” you giggle at your own joke. “mm, yeah. give you that one.” he chuckles before kissing your forehead. “cmon, missed you. we’re going out, yea?”

୨୧ second instance

“hey, where your girl go man?” topper asked as rafe adjusted his hat backwards. he usually never let you out of eyesight. “uh, what?” he asks before looking around, seeing that you were no longer by the clothing rack that held a variety of cropped, revealing tops that quickly made rafe imagine having to tell you not to wear those when he wasn’t around when he first saw you snooping there. “the fuck?” he quietly whispers to himself, scanning the store.

after a few minutes of looking around and even calling your cellphone— he approached one of the workers, already working himself up. “hello, ma’am, uh.. wanted to ask if you’ve seen a girl wearing a pink dress? has little flowers on it? was wearing those uh tall sandals or whatever you call em,”

“oh, you mean platform sandals?” she giggles softly, “yea she asked me where the dressing room was and headed straight there.” she replies with a small smile. “ah, alright. thanks.”

when he arrives to the dressing room he goes to the one stall that’s closed, knocking before twisting the doorknob. “didn’t even lock the damn thing.” he grumbles to himself before stepping inside.

you sat on the dressing rooms chair with your head leaned back and eyes closed. “oh you’re kidding me.”

he lightly smacks your cheek to wake you up, a bit upset. “o-oh! hi papi,” you say meekly. “was tired of all that walking.. was only going to take a real small nap..” you confess, your cheeks a flushed pink.

“baby.. i.. what? cmon doll, you serious with me right now?” he questions, a disapproving expression on his face. “you’re the one that wanted to go to the mall, remember?” it was true, you wanted to get closer to topper and kelce— being rafe’s friends and all, so you invited them to go shopping with you. “i-i know papi, we just did so much walking ‘s all..” you whine, standing up as you hug rafe gently, sighing. “oh doll, cmon. let’s just go already.” he says lightly, dragging you back out and telling the boys it was time to go home for the day, them being secretly glad as they had literally no idea what to do in all the stores you had been visiting— let’s just say every since then, rafe refused to let go of your hand anytime you guys went out afterwards.

The Solace of Winter

Bucky Barnes had always found solace in the quiet of winter. The world seemed to hold its breath, muffling the noise of his chaotic mind. The snow-covered streets of Brooklyn, now largely unrecognizable from the ones he once knew, still brought a semblance of peace. The old brownstone he lived in was a far cry from the lavish apartments of Stark Tower, but it felt more like home than anywhere else.

It was a crisp evening, the first heavy snowfall of the season draping the city in a blanket of white. Bucky had just finished his morning run, his breath visible in the cold air, when he saw her for the first time. She was standing outside the small, local bakery, fumbling with an oversized scarf. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her eyes bright with laughter as she struggled to balance a large bag of pastries and a coffee cup.

"Need a hand?" Bucky found himself asking before he could think better of it.

She looked up, startled, and he was struck by the warmth in her gaze. "Oh, thank you! Yes, please," she replied, her smile genuine and kind.

"I'm Bucky," he said, taking the bag from her.

"Y/N," she introduced herself. "I run the bookstore down the street. Figured I'd treat myself to some fresh pastries before opening up."

"Bookstore?" Bucky's interest was piqued. "I didn't know there was one nearby."

"Yep, it's just around the corner. You should stop by sometime. We have a great selection, and I can always use another pair of hands to help me with deliveries."

He chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."

Over the next few weeks, Bucky found himself stopping by Y/N's bookstore more and more often. The quaint shop was a haven of warmth and quiet, filled with the comforting scent of old books and the faint hint of vanilla from the candles she kept lit. They talked about everything and nothing, finding a surprising ease in each other’s company.

One particularly snowy evening, Y/N closed the shop early due to the weather. She invited Bucky over for dinner, promising homemade chili and freshly baked bread.

"Are you sure? I don’t want to impose," Bucky hesitated, though the idea of spending more time with her was undeniably appealing.

"Absolutely sure," she insisted, her eyes twinkling. "I’ve made way too much chili for just myself. Besides, it’s nice to have company."

Her apartment was cozy and inviting, filled with books and soft lighting. They ate at her small kitchen table, sharing stories and laughter. Bucky found himself opening up in ways he hadn’t in years, the walls he’d built around his heart slowly crumbling under her gentle presence.

As the evening drew to a close, Y/N walked him to the door. "Thank you for tonight, Bucky. It was… really nice."

"Yeah, it was," he agreed, lingering in the doorway. "We should do it again sometime."

She smiled. "I’d like that."

Winter melted into spring, and their friendship blossomed into something deeper. Bucky found himself falling for her kindness, her strength, her unwavering support. Y/N saw through the broken soldier to the man underneath, never once flinching from the shadows of his past.

One quiet evening, as they sat on her couch reading, Bucky took her hand in his. "Y/N," he began, his voice soft and tentative, "I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but… thank you. For everything."

She squeezed his hand, her eyes meeting his with a warmth that chased away the last of his doubts. "You don’t have to deserve me, Bucky. We deserve each other."

And as he kissed her, slow and tender, Bucky finally understood what it meant to find solace—not in the quiet of winter, but in the love of a kindred spirit.

Waitwaitwaitwait but what if r was sating akatsuki but wasn't into degradation and stuff. Like she prefers praise and nice stuff like that

katsuki with a soft!gf

katsuki groans against you, your poor twin bed creaking under the shared weight of you two. he's not exactly gentle as he litters your body with marks of his own. he leaves two, one near each breast and one on the right of your thigh, before he dove his face in and ate you out like a man starved.

"taste fuckin' delicious," he groans, hand grabbing your chin to kiss your plush lips. he smirks wickedly when he pulls away, "you agree?"

you immediately kick at him with a flushed face, "you're so nasty, katsuki."

"you still want me," he huffs quietly as he settles back on his haunches, tapping your thigh to flip over. "plus, I can't help it when you're spread out fa' me like this. you're dripping, baby. look so fuckin' sexy."

his hand smooths comfortingly down the curve of your back, encouraging you to arch further as you wiggle your ass enticingly. katsuki watches enraptured, cock hard and smearing precum against his navel.

"please," you beg instinctually. your head turns to pout at him with needy eyes, "fuck me, katsuki. wanna feel it."

his red eyes rake over you adoringly as he adjusts, fisting himself with a hiss as his head tips back toward the ceiling. he refocuses with a heavy breath, nudging your knees wider, "yeah, gladly, baby."

it's only the tip, but you're already caving for him with a broken whimper. your head stuffs itself into the pillows, and your boyfriend can only chuckle as he squeezes the fat of your ass.

"relax, you've taken it before," he croons softly as he bullies another inch into you. "can feel how much you like it, squeezing me so tight. gonna cream this dick, hm? fuck, you're so beautiful."

the last part comes out just a bit softer and more loving as he squeezes your hard that flies back for comfort. he interlaces your fingers, hand holding yours tenderly as his hips snap against yours. the skin on skin is so loud and lewd that you hope no one can hear, but the thought is fucked out of you as katsuki loses himself in your gummy walls.

"katsuki, oh, ohmygod!"

"what, baby? c'mon, tell me."

your man only grins as you babble to him, but he only noses your neck and kisses you to remind you he's there and loves you. your eyes roll back and he feels a hot rush of pleasure course down his spine. god, he'll do anything you ask.

you'll say katsuki's pussy-whipped, and he'll never deny it, only looking away with pink cheeks and ears.