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#Chef whites
thethirdbear · 2 years
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foxmonkey · 7 months
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I'm watching a BBC show called "Chef Whites" and HOLY GOD, I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE.
'K, I just checked. I'm half way through the next to last episode, so I'm gonna stick it out and watch through the end of the series. According to wikipedia it was cancelled after this -- the first and only season -- and I can see why.
Do people really enjoy watching a show full of horrible characters???
One more episode to go. I'm gonna scream.
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riickgrimes · 9 months
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Carmy + Luca
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orangesyellow · 1 month
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Hi. Hello. I'm Sydney. Family style?
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yrsonpurpose · 7 months
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i think we should make love tonight
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amelia-yap · 11 days
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äaaeeeeeeeaeaeee
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chefkids · 7 months
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they both need to put on sunglasses, it's so distracting
source 1 2
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anderwater · 11 months
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Still thinking chaos menu? yeah, chaos menu but thoughtful. THE BEAR | Season 2 Trailer
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beauspot · 2 months
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I KNOW THATS RIGHT
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10 MORE SEASONS MORTY! 100 MORE SEASONS!
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#HELLYESCHEFS
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belassima · 2 months
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Under The Table
Can we talk about the under the table scene posted on Instagram WITHOUT THE MUSIC 😱? A man could never speak platonically to a woman with that tone of voice 🙄.
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answer2jeff · 6 months
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ready for another lie?
// carmen berzatto x reader
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song: Diet Mountain Dew.
pairings: nyc chef!carmen x journalist!reader
mdni!! i'm not responsible for your media consumption.
warnings: smutty smut, VERY DETAILED, fem!reader, oral and fingering (f!recieving), porn with plot, drinking, cursing, kinda subby carmy, praise kink, alludes to piv but it doesn't happen, complete and utter filth, i'm giving the people what they want don't look at me!!!
essentially a prequel, 1 year before the start of season 1 of The Bear.
"Fuck youuuuu! It's Friday, loosen up!" A groggy voice yelled from across the bar, cursing you for declining another drink.
You watched your friends flirt with the bartender over the course of 2 rounds of shots; causing harmless fuckery with the several guys who tried flattering them. You were actually bored for once. It made you sick.
You waited for something, anything else to impress you. You tried convincing yourself you didn't have to leave, that your friends wanted you here, and that nights like these were "good for your soul," but there seemed to be no hope.
"Just two vodka tonics. Oh, and a white Negroni. Uh, yes— yes, thank you." You caught a blonde curl from the stool next to you in the corner of your peripheral vision, and you dared to turn your head. You were met by the sight of an oddly familiar guy—and then it hit you like a semi truck.
The man you wrote your final thesis on "the senses creating art," about. Food & Wines best new chef, as of late.
You'd spent an entire year and a half traveling the world (after finally making a name for yourself as a journalist, and snagging a place in Food & Wines top writers) and interviewing the faces of all forms of modern art, representing one of each of the 5 senses.
Casey French, a fragrance designer as the face of "smell." Christopher Knowles, a fashion designer who specialized in optical wear as the face of "sight."
The list went on, until it ended at Carmen Berzatto, on "taste," just 6 months ago. It was September now, and you almost forgot about the 2 and a half hours you took from your day to sit down and talk to him in that studio. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you felt the pores in your palms release a nervous sweat.
You blinked rapidly, wondering if you were really seeing him— out of all the other Friday nights, when he could've visited all the other bars. But he chose this Friday, at this bar, next to you. You needed to say something.
"I'll take a Negroni too, actually. And you can just close out my tab for tonight." You handed the bartender your card after you anxiously fished it out of your wallet, trying to seem completely oblivious to Carmen's stare. Carmen clenched his teeth, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he kept his gaze focused on you.
"Holy shit! Is that—" A slightly younger man nearly yelped while he inappropriately pointed at you, quickly being shut down by his peer, and being told to "shut the fuck up," but Carmen stayed silent. He was dumbfounded at the sight of you.
"Uh, hi. Funny seeing you here," you croaked, swallowing hard when you realized how much of a horrible excuse of a "hello," that was. Carmen didn't seem to mind, dragging his head out of the clouds and smiling back at you as he received his glass.
"Oh my god, yeah. Wow, I— it's good to see you."
Carmen glanced down at your drink, watching you trace your fingertip around the rim of the short glass. He gazed at your fresh manicure, the beautifully layered rings on your fingers, the diamonds on your wrists, the black dress with a slit that exposed your leg up to your mid-thigh. Carmen always thought you looked nice, only being used to your blazers and gorgeous vintage pants that he was a little jealous of, but this was different.
And as if you weren't already anxious enough, Carmen's "friends" immediately arose from their stools and made their way to an empty table, leaving the two of you alone again. Just looking at him and his clean suit and tie made you nervous, especially with the ink on his hands still visible.
"Good to see you too, Carmen," you smiled, cheeks aching as you tried desperately to hide your excitement. Admittedly, you admired him. That wasn't new. But that feeling in your stomach, that aching, yearning feeling was.
"I don't usually do these things," Carmen mumbled, taking a sip from his glass and licking his lips.
"Me neither. It's kinda— I don't know, icky."
You knew Carmen avoided big gatherings like this, but they were usually tolerable thanks to people who "knew him" enough to let him hang around their groups in silence while they practically screamed at each other. But his free time just never seemed to align with anyone else worth talking to... until tonight.
"Icky. Couldn't have worded it better," Carmen tried not to laugh at your expense, keeping his tongue between his teeth as both of you fought back a smile.
"You get it! God, anyway—how've you been?" You inched closer to him, resting your chin in your palm as your elbows were propped up on the counter. You made sure to keep your stare on him and only him, glancing from his nose, to his lips, and back into his eyes. You knew exactly what you were doing, and it was too late to stop now.
Carmen paused, his mouth gaping open slightly as he thought of what he could possibly say to convey that he could be doing better, without completely ruining the mood. He sucked his teeth as he took a deep breath, his eyes glued to the floor until he finally looked at you again.
"Alright, I guess. Managing. How're you?"
"Managing. But really though. Like, has anything changed?"
Carmen thought about your question, realizing how much he seemed to relax tonight—while simultaneously being the most nervous he'd ever been outside of work in the last year. Was it being out and public after a long week? Was it the fact that he still felt so stupid for not getting your actual number, and instead only having access to your business email which was provided by your agent? Was it the smell of your perfume? Was it just you?
"Uh... yeah. Yeah, I guess some things have changed."
He couldn't help but awe at the way you did your hair and your makeup that night, appreciating the tiny details your jewelry and purse of choice added to the look. He hardly ever thought twice about the attractive women he'd run into; making small talk and watching them get bored with his interests.
But now you were here; his fantasies, his desires were here, right next to him; wearing a dress that flattered your cleavage and cinched you at the waist, black heels that tapped against the footrest of the barstool. It made his head foggy, and he couldn't even wrap his head around the encounter.
After finishing your Negroni's over the course of 3 separate conversations that left you with a cramp in your side and your cheeks hurting from smiling—basically hitting it off like you were actual friends, you decided to pull the classic...
"You wanna get out of here?"
Two successful, somewhat well known adults in their lines of work were allowed to be human, right? They were allowed to share deep belly laughs with someone they didn't originally plan to see outside of a work setting, right?
Wrong. It was unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted: everything you promised you'd never be around him.
Carmen knew this.
But he was eye-fucking you in that goddamn interview. His tattooed hands rubbing against his thighs as he sat in front of you in the white light of that studio, his gentle voice contradicting his large, almost intimidating arms—it was all you could think about when you wrote your thesis. And now you were gonna be alone with him.
And despite his worries, despite the nervous sweat beading on his forehead, despite his growing anticipation when he admired your figure like a horny teenager, Carmen agreed. The smirk on your face and your manicured nails in between your pearly white teeth was convincing enough. He knew it was risky, given the fact that you still wrote for Food & Wine every couple of months: being more than capable of ruining his career with one wrong, but so right move.
"Yeah, actually."
Unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted.
Fuck it.
Carmen closed his tab, gently helping you down from the barstool by your hand. You held your purse close to you while waving a shy goodbye to your friends, who were drunkenly squealing in excitement for you. Carmen's peers seemed to be out of sight; therefore, out of mind. You felt your cheeks go hot, every part of your body tingling. Neither of you knew where you were going. Just not here, and not with everyone else.
He couldn't even think about the fact that he would be back in the glowing white light of the kitchen that following Monday, and you completely forgot about the paper you had to start by Sunday night. And it was way too late to care about any of that now.
You decided your apartment was best.
"Fuck.." Carmen grunted under his breath, his eyes hooded while he felt his pants tighten against his throbbing length. He spread his legs wider as you palmed him, trying to ease some of his tension. You hovered over him as he lied down, sprawled out on your leather couch. His hands were clawing at anything he could reach; your hair, your thighs, the straps of your dress until he pulled it down to your hips, and finally the clasp of your bra.
His bare chest heaved, red and covered in sweat. His dress shirt, tie, and jacket were somewhere in the mess of your apartment. He was honestly too desperate to care.
"You okay with me takin' this off?" Carmen whispered as he cupped your cheek, keeping his fingers prepared to unclip your bra with your permission. He admired every inch of your flushed face as he waited for answer.
"Mhm," you soothed him as your hand moved up and unbuttoned his pants the second your lips moved onto his. Saliva pooled in your mouths with every kiss, turning into a sloppy mess of tongue and teeth. Carmen struggled, but eventually tossed your bra onto the living room floor, his mouth just centimeters away from yours as he exhaled heavy breaths.
You sat up straight, pulling Carmen up by his shoulders and smashing your lips back into his. He pulled sway to breathe, taking it upon himself to peel the rest of your dress off. His tattooed hands gently caressed your plush thighs, his calloused fingers sliding under the hem of your lace underwear. He practically worshiped you like this, planting open mouthed kisses along your jawline and neck.
Carmen needed to hear you, feel you, taste you.
"I wanna taste you, if–if that's alright," he placed one last kiss of gratitude on collarbone before he looked up at you through lust-blown, half-lid eyes.
Your entire body began to heat up again, and Carmen's words went straight to your needy cunt. You could feel yourself dripping through your panties while you put a hand over your mouth in embarrassment, nodding frantically.
"Please," you begged, a mixture of a moan and a silent cry escaping. Carmen's hands detached from your thighs, your hips writhing up from the loss of contact. Without another word, he nodded his head, letting his hands travel down your hips as he got down on his knees in front of you.
Carmen took a shaky breath, glancing from your pleading eyes and back down to your bottom half. He hesitated, choosing to plant one more line of kisses from your tits down to your navel before giving you one last look for permission. He put his hand between your inner thighs, asking you to spread further. You blinked slowly while he peeled your panties off of you, wondering if he would notice how wet you already were.
Unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted.
Carmen licked his lips, admiring the sight of your puffy slit in hesitation. With your body sprawled out in front of him, your pretty face looking down at him...how could he not eat you out right on that leather couch?
"I've got you, baby," Carmen cooed, his eyes wide as he nearly drooled over the glossy puddle in your underwear. He gently placed your calves over his shoulders, his calloused hands scooping the underside of your thighs.
Carmens wet tongue licked a bold stripe from your hole up to your soaked clit, not a drop of your arousal going to waste. You grew impatient, the kitten licks he gave your sensitive bundle of nerves driving you mad.
"C'mon, Carmy, I—" You whined, pleading that he'd pick up the pace. Carmen decided not to hold back, giving your throbbing clit aggressive sucks that he'd later soothe with slow, flat-tongued licks.
You bit down on your hand while the other entangled in his hair to muffle the sinful noises you made. Carmen felt his stomach turn at the sound of his name falling from your gaping mouth.
Carmen took note of how much you loved his tongue diving into your weeping hole, earning whimpers and cries of "please," and "oh, fuck, Carmen." He groaned into your pussy when you caught a grip on his hair, placing his head even deeper between your thighs. He moved his hands from your thighs and up to your waist—forcing your jerky hips down on the couch. He wanted to make sure you didn't miss a single bit of pleasure.
"Can I.. uh, can I try something?" He stammered, picking his head up with his chin shiny with your liquids as his hand crept back down, prying between your folds. Carmen needed to keep every part of him busy so he wouldn't have to focus on the aching bulge, already leaking precum in his boxers. He felt his thighs clench as he fucking whimpered beneath you.
"S–sure.." You nodded frantically again, tossing your head back as Carmen carefully inserted a digit into your core. You whimpered in slight discomfort as he stretched you out, which he immediately reassured softly.
"Shhh... you're alright. Jus–just relax f'me, yeah?"
Carmen waited until you whined again; his fingers started at an agonizingly slow pace until he heard your moans getting a little too quiet for his liking. He picked his pace up, sliding another thick finger into your hole and ramming into your g-spot. He hesitated, afraid to hurt you—but you quickly dismissed his worries when you urged him that you needed more. Carmen aligned his tongue back with your pussy, sucking hard before comforting your desire with lapping at your clit.
"Oh my god, Carmen," you felt that familiar knot in your stomach, your grip in his hair tightening while your moans grew louder and louder. You didn't care if your neighbors could hear you through the thin walls of your apartment. You didn't even think about what this would look like the morning after—because none of it mattered. Not with Carmen's head between your thighs.
Carmen could tell you were close, prioritizing your pleasure before he could even register how badly he wanted to cum into his boxers. He couldn't help but buck his hips forward, begging for friction while every noise you made just inched him closer to his release... but he needed this to last.
"You close? Let me take care 'f you," he mumbled, breathing heavily against your pussy while he tried his best to stay still. It sent shockwaves through your body, and you tried desperately not to scream his name.
"So... so close.. Fuck, it's too much," your useless protest was cut short by a loud moan, muffled by the sweaty palm of your hand. Your heart pounded in your head as your walls clenched around Carmen's fingers. You weren't used to anything feeling this good in months.
"C'mon baby, you can handle it. You're alright. You're doing so good. Takin' my fingers so fuckin' good," Carmen's raspy voice comforted you. His tongue finally came back to relieve you, his fingers slowing down so as to not overstimulate you, as much as he wanted to.
"Carmy!" Your eyes screwed shut as your thighs shook. You chased your high, practically grinding into his face as his nose bumped your clit while his fingers remained at work.
"Jesus..." You panted, grunting in disappointment when you felt Carmen slide his fingers out of you. He licked them clean while your eyes were screwed shut as you tried to recollect yourself. Carmen planted a kiss on your temple the second he sat back up onto the couch, pulling you into his lap by your waist. You felt his erection against your crotch, his already sticky mess combining with your wetness yet again.
"You okay?" Carmen cupped your cheek, pushing any sweaty strands of hair out of your face. And just when he thought he couldn't have felt more proud of you, he melted into the feeling of your lips against his.
You didn't know if you'd ever see him again, you didn't know if this night would magically become niche hot gossip within your respective groups; all you knew was that you wanted him. His lust blown eyes on you, his hands gripping your waist as he bent you over your kitchen counter and fucked you dumb, the sound of sex echoing through your apartment.
Maybe some other Friday night.
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xblackreader · 30 days
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SydCarmy Meets The Family <3
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>>> The thought of Carmy being introduced to Sydney’s tons of Nigerian Aunties and Uncles is very humorous to me.
“And Here he is! I brought you my boyfriend, Carmen finally. So everyone leave me alone about it.” Sydney starts, once she has hugged everyone.
The ‘Please go easy on my white man’ is silent but they nod. Raising up to shake his hand and her littlest clingy cousin who greets her, stares him down like he’s an alien.
He sticks out like a blonde haired blue eyed sore thumb, but once he’s been greeted and given a general threatening message via all her uncles (in tight jeans and sandals, which lightens the threats) he is told to put down the things they brought in the kitchen.
“Nice firm handshake.” He hears an uncle comment as he leaves and he is elated. It’s small but it’s approval!
Once in the kitchen, the auntie’s crowd to greet him with hugs and get distracted seeing him for the first time, squeezing his muscles and touching his hair.
“Eh… nwa ocha ya di short mana sara mbara…”
“Ma o nwere big muscles!
“No! Yana min kyau! Cute!”
Carmy: “Uh, do… do they like me?”
Sydney: “Oh, they love you. They’re plotting to steal you away from me.”
“Big nose too!”
Carmy: “well… okay, that was English.”
Little cousin, David, walks up to Carmen as he chops vegetables. Pulling a little stool over and standing at his side, wordlessly. He stares first at Carmen himself then the vegetables the white man cuts so effortlessly. Little sticky fingers rise and reach for the knife and Carmen just laughs as he attempts to pry it from much larger stronger hands.
“Can I see?” David asks, confused on why his big cousins boyfriends thinks he’s so funny.
“Unfortunately, this is a knife. Too heavy and sharp for you to use.”
David is heavily offended that he is being underestimated. “I can chop! I chop for Mama everyday!”
“David!” He heard said Mama begins to scold him, “You raise your voice at guests?” David begins to tear up.
“Not at all, Auntie.” Carmen inserts, David cut off from his whine. “He’s just asking if he can help me cut vegetables. I didn’t know he had experience.”
David’s mother melts immediately and confirms that yes, David does chop carrots and garlic for her. “Oh, He’s very smart! Knows how to hold it and everything!”
So Carmen lets David help him ‘chop chop’ keeping a steady hand in his as the little boy is taught new techniques and tricks.
By day’s end, he is smitten with his new weird looking older cousin and makes it plain by crying when it’s time to part. Sydney is so proud that she lets him parade around as the new favorite cousin.
>> And Sydney meeting a couple other “less-than-woke” Berzattos? Older Italian people setting eyes on their introverted little nephew’s girlfriend?
“Che bellezza!” A drunk uncle of his screams almost immediately before Carmen can get her name out.
“Gambe piuttosto lunghe… You guys will have such cute babies!”
“Oh, mixed babies are the cutest!” Donna throws in.
“Ma…” Carmy warns.
“Oh, you’re so WOKE, Carmen. Chill out! She’s givin’ her a compliment!” His Uncle says before turning back to the game.
“Ya mother’s right, Carmen! See, my sista has the cutest little grandchildren! Remember little Joey, Carmen? He went and found himself a black girl too!”
Carmy: “Okay, Aunt Glo, thank you. Can we move o-“
“And they have just beautiful little caramel children! And their hair! Ugh! Ricci e belli!”
Sydney is just nodding and trying not to laugh at how mortified Carmy is. He looks over to her in apology, but none of these comments are particularly too inappropriate and they mean well.
“But she’s skinny…”
“Skin and bones! Let’s feed her then, come with me, sweetheart!”
Sydney: “O-oh, uh…” but her hand is captured and she’s being led into the kitchen to be fed by hand.
She tosses a help look to Carmy and he shrugs with a small smile.
“Hopefully this’ll make your hips wider… The Berzattos have large heads when they’re babies, unfortunately.”
Carmy: “Ma! Cut the baby talk!”
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Fin.
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orangesyellow · 1 month
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it feels good to be known so well
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loudflowerfart · 1 month
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Phatttt!!
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glynrick · 2 months
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Binged The Bear recently and loved it then did some sketches of the cast.
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