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beefrobeefcal · 2 months

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the BEEF | #1: Joel Miller

Summary: no-outbreak AU, Joel has a headache and that headache wants his attention. [based on a prompt THOT up in collaboration with @strang3lov3]

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,833

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, angry fools who want to play hide the sausage, angry joel, shovel violence against a truck, monster cock, age gap (joel is in his 50's, reader is younger), p in the v (unwrapped), rough dresser sex,

Author's Notes: welcome to the BEEF. Each P-boy has a thorn in their side that has to be dealt with. Thank you to @covetyou for inspiring the idea, and thank you @neverwheremoonchild, @strang3lov3, @rebel-held & @bitchesuntitled for their brains and eyes.

and thank you to every friendo in the Bistro - it's all for you, babies.

Joel Miller was your street’s cranky asshole. No one dared throw a party or hold a garage sale without letting him know first. No one dared let their grass get over a certain length and the whole neighbourhood breathed a sigh of relief when he would go out of a town and not see the kids scribble with chalk on the sidewalks in the summer. He never called the cops; no, instead he showed up and berated whoever was hosting an event or engaging in an activity he found offensive. And he was intimidating. He wasn’t the tallest, but he was built like a brick shithouse. You’d lived on the block for almost nine years, and in that time, Joel had gone from being a broad, sturdy single father to a single, empty nester who lived off HungryMan frozen meals. He was a big man with linebacker shoulders and a meaty chest stacked on top of a boulderous belly. His plaid button up shirts always looked like they were holding on for dear life to avoid his temper.

And you were utterly in love with him.

Before the most recent snowfall, you’d been in your room on your bed with the window open a crack to let in some fresh air. Right below your window was Joel’s front porch, and as soon as you heard his door fly open, you grabbed your vibrator and listened.

“Get off my lawn!”, you heard him bellow at who ever had dared to approach his house.

You smiled to yourself and turned on your purple silicon friend and shoved it in your underwear.

As Joel berated the hapless victim of his temper, you nudged yourself closer to the edge. As you did, you cared less about the volume of your cries and let your noises out at top volume. By the time you came, Joel was standing on his porch with his mouth agape, staring at your bedroom window and the offending party walked away with a look of disgust.

*****

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

You watched as your snow shovel slipped out of your hands and hit your Joel’s truck. The one with the vanity plate ‘SM 9000’ that you had no clue what it meant. You could only sit back and watch as it fell and gouged in the paint job on Joel’s 1989 Dodge Ram pickup, your panties grew damp as you heard his front door open and slam against his house.

You turned around, raising your hands, trying to look like you were de-escalating the situation. “Joel, I-“

“The fuck’re you think you’re doin’?!”, he bellowed, stomping towards you.

As he yelled and flew into a tantrum over your shovel’s sins, you couldn’t help the stupid, lovesick half grin blooming on your face.

“… and you ain’t got no respect for no one’s property and…”, he stopped, took a breath, and looked you over, face twisting in a confused rage as he tried to figure out why you were looking at him as if he were a can of tuna and you were a cat watching him being pulled open ever so gently.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!”, he yelled, stepping forward, trying to scare you to no avail. He huffed and stomped his foot, trying to snap you out of whatever trance you were in.

You sighed and tilted your head, loving the attention he was finally bestowing on you, not caring that your reaction was essentially dumping gasoline on a house fire.

“Fuckin’ disrespectful shit…”, he snarled as he grabbed your arm and dragged you towards his house.

“Joel? What’re you doing? Where we going?”, you asked with a big dumb grin on your face then wincing at the harsh grip he had on your elbow. Your boots slipped and skidded on the icy walkway and you tripped heading up the stairs.

“Fuckin’ clumsy dumbass…”, he grumbled, shoving you through his front door and slamming it behind you both.

You looked around his entry way, noting the ugly wallpaper and the stale cigarette smell lingering. You crinkled your nose, and he turned around, his frown deepening into a scowl.

“Boots off!”, he barked, harshly motioning to your feet.

You didn’t miss a beat and toed them off quickly, kicking them into the wall. His jaw clenched as he watched the dirty snow clumps slide slowly down, leaving wet patches on his yellow-turned-brown floral wallpaper.

His eyes snapped up to yours, expecting an apologetic look. Instead, he was met with…

“Why the fuck you lookin’ at me like a love sick puppy?”

Joel was enraged. You didn’t run away or beg for forgiveness. No. You stood in his entry way, kicking your boots and making a mess, looking like he was David Cassidy or Patrick Swayze. You smiled back softly and that was the last straw for him.

“WHAT IN THE FRESH HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

You could have cum right there. Joel Miller was yelling right in your face. You’d gotten off by listening to him lose his shit at anyone trying to fundraiser or collect donations who had dared knock on his door but having a front row seat to a live performance was better than you could have ever imagined.

Joel watched your lips part and your brows twitch as they furrowed and your head tilt back slightly. He heard your breath hitch between his furious growling breaths, and his eyes slid down your parka-clad frame and he swore he saw your thighs clench.

His eyes went wide as he realized the effect he was having on you.

“You fuckin’ dirty little shit…”

The whimper he received in response made his cock twitch in his WalMart Levi’s. He sucked in a harsh breath and swallowed hard. He hadn’t had a woman look at him like that since he went to the strip club with his brother for his bachelor party, and he knew she was looking for a hefty tip. But you – the only thing he could think of is that you were trying to find a way to get out of paying for the damage your shovel caused. There was no waythat you were actually interested in him in that way. No. No woman had wanted to fuck him since before his daughter, Sarah, had been in junior high. He was a fat old asshole and you… you weren’t.

“Joel…”

Your soft voice pulled him back and the frown he carried all but left his face, being replaced with eyebrows to his hairline and his mouth open in confusion and shock.

“Joel, I… I’m sorry about your truck.”

You grabbed the zipper to your parka and pulled down, opening it to reveal your great aunt’s knitted sweater with a loon on it. Joel’s widened eyes swept over you and his brows furrowed.

“The hell you up to?”, he croaked, trying to sound intimidating.

“It’s warm in here”, you respond, tossing your parka on to, but missing completely, the stair banister.

His mind was racing. You actually seemed to be coming on to him as you stepped closer in your mismatched socks. You looked up at him through your lashes while your hands slowly slid up your legging-clad thighs and up to the hem of your sweater. He watched as you pulled it over your head slowly, getting it stuck for a moment, revealing a worn out white t-shirt with a faded image of a marshmallow peep and the slogan ‘Holla At My Peeps!’. He took another step back and you tossed your sweater at him, and he stumbled back, falling onto his recliner.

“Jesus, woman!”, he hollered, ripping your sweater off his head just in time to see you standing above him.

“You know how hot you are?”, you asked, leaning forward over him.

He froze. He must be dead. Or asleep. Or maybe he slipped when he stormed out the door to yell at you and hit his head. Or maybe he was drunk. Maybe he took a NyQuil tablet instead of the Omega 3-6-9 fish oil pills.

“The hell is wrong with you?”, he sputtered out, looking at you wide-eyed.

You didn’t answer. You only leaned forward, nudging your nose against his and letting out a breathy giggle. He tried to speak again, but his words got lost in the high pitch grunt he let out when your knee came up and nestled in between his thighs, pushing against the considerable bulge that had developed.

His hand involuntarily gripped your wrist that was supported on his arm rest, and he sucked in a deep breath.

“I know exactly what you need, Joel Miller.”, you cooed, tongue jutting out and licking your teeth, trying to sound seductive. “You need a good fuck.”

His mouth hung open in shock. You grinned wildly and kissed the tip of his nose before nipping at his bottom lip and tugging it between your teeth.

Joel let out a groan and closed his eyes, the hand on your wrist moving to your t-shirt’s hem and slipped underneath it. You nudged your knee against his crotch again and kissed him, tasting no-name waffles and burnt coffee.

The kiss seemed to break something in Joel. This wasn’t a dream, or an antihistamine induced hallucination or a concussion - this was real. You, his hot, young, stupid neighbour was crawling onto his lap and shoving your tongue down his throat.

He grunted lowly and pushed you back, looking up at you with dark eyes. You tried moving forward again, but his hand held you back.

A whine emanated from your throat, and he shook his head. “I’m not fucking you-“

You scoffed and he shushed you.

“Oh, hush and lemme finish, you loony shit!”, he huffed. “I was sayin’ that I'm not gonna fuck you in this chair; it barely holds my weight and if you’re gonna be bouncin’ on me, this fuckin’ thing’ll screw the pooch.”

You shrugged your shoulders, irritated. “Okay, fine. Then where?”

“My bed, you nimrod!”, he snapped with a scowl, then grinned. “Got a nice mattress with good lumbar support.”

*****

You had followed Joel to his room and were pleasantly… let down. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the beige walls and the picture of a horse above his non-exciting bed were not what you had thought he would have. What surprised you was the essential oil diffuser plugged in on his bedside table, giving the air a fresh lavender smell.

The fact that the rest of his house looked like a rejected concept for an early nineties sitcom and his bedroom looked like a bed and breakfast that had no theme, for some reason, made you want him more. This man and his lack of consistency. You needed him in you now.

Grabbing his arm and turning him around, you pulled him into a desperate kiss; teeth and tongues, fighting for real estate in each other’s mouths.

“Get naked, sugar.”, he grunted as he broke the kiss with a lopsided grin. He unsnapped his shirt, revealing a grey, stained undershirt, its ribbing pulled tight and stretched over his belly while his mouth and surrounding patchy facial hair glistened with your saliva.

While he wasn’t being that polite, he wasn’t being mean. That was a problem. Even with how mundane he’d revealed himself to be, it wasn’t enough. The residual dampness that made your panties stick to your core was a result of him yelling at you out front, and that goodwill your pussy had shown was slowly drying up.

Joel’s hands began to make quick work of his belt and stretch denim jeans, but he noticed you not moving to do the same.

His hand flapped at you in an urging motion, “Make with the no clothes. Can’t fuck you with them on.”

His eyes narrowed as he noted your lack of movement, and he paused. You began to see signs that Joel was getting mad, and your mind flipped through every situation you’d witnessed him lose his shit in. What was it that would set him off quick? You weren’t about to throw a block party in his room, nor were you a religious group knocking at his door early on a Saturday. Then it clicked.

A devious grin broke out slowly on your face as you sat on his Temperpedic mattress and crossed your arms.

“Make me.”

“You indignant little shit…”, he growled, clenching his fist.

A flutter in your lower belly. More.

“Come on. Make me.”

“You fuckin’ tease… Fuck you!” His eyes were filling with fire.

An almost painful need bloomed in your core. More!

“Fuck me yourself, coward.”

He sputtered and guffawed, eyes wide in rage.

“You fuckin’ shit! Bangin’ up my truck and actin’ like a needy Jezabel just to fuckin’ tease me like this!”

You could have cum right there, between the iron grip on your wrist and his loud belittling.

You couldn’t stop the giggle that erupted, and he snarled. He grabbed your hand and yanked you up off the bed. You truly thought his back was bad enough that the effort of getting you up alone would be too much, but he shoved you against his dresser, then slamming his weight into your back. You whined, feeling your pussy clenching on nothing.

“You’re such a shit!”, he grunted, grabbing your elasticized waistband, and yanking your leggings and panties down on one side while your hand went to the other; the two of you awkwardly working towards removing your barrier.

When they were low enough on your legs to step out of, you clumsily did so, then tried to turn around to help Joel. He wasn’t fast enough, swearing under his breath as your hands lifted his belly to access his strained button fly. His mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting like a dog on a window while a steak was being grilled just on the other side.

You pushed his jeans down around his hips and they pooled around his ankles. He kicked them off and bit down on the crux of your neck and shoulder as your hand cupped and felt up his hard cock.

Jesus. Oh fuck.

Joel was hung. Like unreasonably so. You’d had your fair share of men slamming their pork steeples into your wet cunt, but none of them could even hold a candle to the monstrosity that sat heavy and covered in satin in your hand. You planted your hand on his chest and pushed him back, needing to get a peek at what Joel was packing. You immediately looked down, seeing the Wile E. Coyote faux-satin boxers protruding out in an impressive, and frankly intimidating, bulge.

“Oh shit...”, you breathed out, contemplating on whether you truly needed to do any serious sitting for the next week, or if you could maybe just get away with laying down at work.

His hand snapped to your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eye, and he gave you a dark smile, “Showed up to a gun fight with a knife, sugar?”

You didn’t have time to respond because Joel shoved his hand between your legs and harshly began rubbing your clit.

Your eyes fluttered and rolled back. Joel watched, an approving sneer on his face.

“’S fucked up … you like this?”

“uh…. Uh-huh…”

“You’re a lunatic…”

You smiled lazily. “You’re fingering a lunatic… w-what’s that say about you?”

He paused then huffed out, “That I’m fingering a lunatic, you moron.”

You let out a throaty laugh that bleeds into a moan as Joel shoves two thick fingers into your hole, slowly dragging them out before plunging them back in.

“You’re a sick little shit… you seducin’ and teasin’ an old man, an’gettin’ me all wound up… Neighbourhood headache… that’s you. Fuckin’ shit up and walkin’ away with a smile on her dumb face.”

“’M close… don’t…. don’t stop…”

His fingers kept the slow languid pace going as he leaned in and harshly whispered, “Unlike you, sugar, I don’t like to leave people disappointed.”

His eyes never left you, watching your every move. Every involuntary twitch and shudder, every flutter of your eyelids and breath leave your parted lips. He could feel it around his fingers and see it on your face that you were feeling everything intensely and now that he had you like this, he wasn’t going to let you go without making sure you weren’t going to pull this shit again.

Joel was many things, but a man who could let things go was not one of them. He was tired of hearing you cream and cry on whatever silicon thing you were shoving into yourself through your bedroom window as he lost his shit on someone; tired of seeing you make eyes at him while you sat in your front yard as he grumbled at a neighbour for the state of their lawn. He was still furious at you for once letting your hand - your soft, sweet, tender hand - linger on his when handing him his mail that was accidentally delivered to your home, forcing him to sit in his shitty recliner and try to finish with his calloused, rough, and hard hand. He never came.

You were going to pay for that. He’d promised himself that for almost five years and now here you were, on your way to being a muppet with how his hand played in your pussy. Joel’s time had come.

You came, moaning, on his hand as he watched, his fingers still moving in and out of you, and his thumb took up the task of tending to your twitching clit. Your face twisted and you cried out, trying to push his hand away.

Your tongue felt thick in your mouth and a moan seeped out. As you rode the wave, he yanked his hand out and grabbed your arm, throwing you onto the bed.

“Goddammit, you’re such a pretty shit.”, he grumbled, reaching for your ankle, and tugging your ass to the edge of the bed. You tried sitting up on your elbows, but he shoved you back down with his body weight.

His weight. Good god, he felt heavier and better than you ever thought he could as he pressed you down into the mattress.

But he got up off you, trying to wrangle your ankles and pull your exposed pussy to just the right spot to save his back from being strained. You tried sitting up again, wanting to have some sort of control over the situation, but Joel growled and grabbed your hips, and, in an impressive feat, flipped you onto your front all while grumbling about what a pain in the ass you were.

“Can’t even fuckin’ be considerate enough to stay put…”

You heard him spit then grunt, figuring he was priming that fucking meat wagon between his legs, and you let out an impatient huff.

“Knock that shit off!”, he snapped, flicking you on your ass cheek. “You just came, nimrod. You can fuckin’ wait!”

“Yeah… but I wanna cum again!”, you whined out with a smile, trying to not laugh at how irritated he was with you.

“I bet you do… but you’re on my time, and I am a patient man, sugar.”, he crooned lowly, snaking his hand up your back and to your hip. You squirmed a bit, but his hold kept you planted in place, and his other hand held his cock as he nudged it against your opening.

The smile on your face dropped as his huge member pushed in; your mouth opened, and out came a gasp followed by a choked moan.

“That’s it… Jesus Murphy… not even fuckin’ your throat and I got you to shut your mouth…”

Yes, you knew Joel was huge. But it was just an abstract concept up until that moment. Now that he was shoving his massive dick into you, you felt like the universe’s mysteries were now clearly laid out. You knew what religion was right, who shot JFK, how they made the moon landing look real…

Nothing in life would ever surprise you again because you were being split open by this grumpy, fat man. You were being ruined by Joel Miller.

He grunted as he pulled back and then slammed into you.

“Tight little snatch, sugar… takin’ me like a champ.”

You couldn’t respond. Your brain had melted and left your skull empty, and you were unable to do anything but breathe loudly and moan, “S’too big… too big…”

Joel snickered and grunted, snapping his hips and shoving himself deep. You wriggled and squirmed, simultaneously needing him stop and to fuck you harder. Your head began to feel faint, and your core squeezed him, forcing a groan out of him.

He began to snap his hips faster, panting and grunting like the fat kid in gym class being forced to run a mile. You whined and squirmed, trying to get your knees under your body to be able to push back against him, to get him deeper, but he grabbed your calf and bit your leg right above your sock with a growl then groaned, “Stay… stay put… don’t move… jus’lemme… lemme finish…”

You let out a yelp than melted into a moan, throwing yourself into another orgasm. Joel’s thrusts became hurried and more erratic. The high-pitched whine that ripped out of Joel sounded like a dog begging for table scraps as he shot his load into you.

He collapsed onto your back, both of you panting. After what felt like hours but in reality, was only about 30 seconds, Joel had gone quiet. You nudged him, hoping to god he didn’t die from a pussy-induced heart attack. He grunted and struggled to push himself up off you, then flopped on the bed next to you. You rolled over onto your back and looked at him. His cheeks were flushed, and his brows furrowed; his wispy salt and pepper hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes were closed. He was still breathing heavily through his mouth. You smiled, feeling a fulfillment you hadn’t since you’d convinced your parents that it was your sister who broke the CD-ROM drive in the family computer even though it was really you. Cuddling into his, your fingers drew heart shapes in his sweat coated chest hair.

Now that he’d fucked you, you wanted to clear the air as it were, and make sure he wasn’t going to make you pay for any damage to his truck. “So…”

Joel grunted in response, one eye opening and looking at you.

“I was just wondering… what’s your licence plate mean?”

He sighed and closed his eye again. He said the meaning quietly and at first you weren’t sure you heard him right.

“What?”

His cheeks flushed a little harder and he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a huff.

“ShagMaster 9000.”

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beefrobeefcal · 2 months

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Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Joel Miller & his Darlin' One Shot: A Trouble Shared is a Trouble Halved Summary: You and Joel navigate settling down in Jackson as a couple with its ups and downs. (Post Outbreak)

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,900

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), talk of eating, weight gain, oral (f receiving), angst, established relationship growing pains, argument

Author's Notes: Am I back? Maybe baby! I'm delighted to finally do what was asked of me in a poll and I thank you all for your love and patience.

Thanks be to @neverwheremoonchild, @strang3lov3, and @notjustjavierpena for their eyes, thots, and brains. And thank you to @noxturnalpascal for the THOT that gave life to this fic so very long ago.

“Eatin’ like it's your last day on earth, Miller...”, you teased with a wry smile as you walked past him in the dining hall.

“Shut it...”, he grumbled, a bit of pink flushing his cheeks. He took another bite of gravy-flooded mashed potatoes.

“What helping’s this? Third? Fourth?”

Joel looked at you, exasperated. “The fuck? Can't a man enjoy his girl’s cookin’ without the third degree?”

You smiled at him, loving how much of a rise you were getting. It had been a few months since you and Joel had your first encounter, and while nothing was made official, more often than not, you’d find yourself entwined with Joel in your bed at night. His heavy, full stomach pressed against your back as you both slept peacefully. While you enjoyed your time together, you were beginning to feel something was lacking, hence your teasing.

The cold glare he gave immediately dampened the playful banter between you. You felt a twist in your mood and sour heat in your stomach.

He shook his turkey leg at you, giving you a scolding look, and warned, “You better knock that shit off, Darlin’... or so help me, I’m not gonna - .”

“Not gonna what?”, you asked, getting closer, and you voice dropped down to a cool whisper only he could hear. “Not gonna fuck me? Pretty sure haven’t been doing that lately anyway, so what’d be the difference, huh?”

He sat back with wide eyes and his mouth open in shock, and his full belly sat rounded out on his lap. You stood up, brow raised, and arms crossed.

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?!”

Joel was affectionate, but usually too tired, full or both to do anything but let you ride him. And not to say you didn't enjoy it, but it was starting to feel a bit one sided. He hadn’t done anything beyond finger you a bit to get you ready and then sweet talk you into being on top again. He’d apologize and praise you, but you wanted more. Especially now that there was more to him.

His eating habits had really started to impact his physique; his jawline was softer, his arms and thighs were thicker, but his stomach was truly the star of the show. He’d made do with the clothes he had for as long as he could, but at the rate he was eating and the limited physical activity he’d been doing, he had to trade labor and time for new shirts and pants that would fit him. And on nights when he ate like this, you swore you could hear the seams praying to their polyester gods for mercy.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“Coulda fooled me!”, he snapped, louder than he meant. “Seems to do the trick and make you whine and mewl like a beaten dog almost every night!”

You felt your face get hot as a few heads in the dining hall turned towards you. He sighed and his eyes softened as he saw your face fall a bit. But you held firm, pulling your mouth into a scowl.

“Not every night, nowhere near it. And I’m the one doing the work. I’m the one fuckin’ you!”, you hissed.

Before giving him a chance to say anything else, you quickly turned and went back into the kitchen.

*****

After storming out of the dining hall, you’d spent the rest of your shift cleaning the entire kitchen, probably to a degree it hadn’t been since its installation. You’d scrubbed and polished every surface with enough fury in your eyes that no one dared step in. It wasn’t until you heard the jukebox turn off and see the lights in the dining hall dim that you realized you’d been at this for a few hours.

As you leaned back against the counter, head down and thinking over how your and Joel’s interaction had escalated like that, you heard a small voice say your name. You looked up and saw Sally, one of the other kitchen attendants.

“Sorry - don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m tryin’ to close up and Joel won’t leave. Says he’s not leavin’ without’cha.”

You scoffed out a ‘for fuck’s sake’ then walked to the swinging doors, only to see Joel, still seated where he was before, leaning back in his chair and picking his teeth with a toothpick. His eyes met yours, and you knew just from the look he was giving, he had a lot more to say.

“Joel, go home. Need to close up and can’t if you’re here.”

He looked behind you at Sally and gave her a small wave. “I’ll help her close up, Sally. You run on home. We got this.”

“Joel!”, you hissed.

“Go on now, Sally.”

His tone left little room for Sally to argue, and she muttered a ‘good night’ as she passed by you then Joel as head made her way out the door. You sighed, clenching your jaw, feeling the frustration and anger that you’d just weeded down in your cleaning frenzy begin to rise again. Joel watched Sally leave, then turned back to you, smug look on his face, made all the smugger as he noted your irritation.

“Darlin’, cut that shit out and come’ere.”, he crooned with a small grin, hilding his hand out to you.

You glared at him, not moving from your position.

He kept his hand out and raised his eyebrows and let out a huff. “Don’t make this old man beg, baby…”

“I think this old man has a lot more ground to cover than just beggin’.”, you responded cooly, crossing your arms across your chest. Before Joel could answer, you turned and went back to the kitchen to finish your duties.

You figured there was a 50 / 50 chance of Joel following you in, so as the door swung open and his heavy footsteps lumbered towards you, you knew he was at least picking up slightly on the passive aggressive breadcrumbs you’d dropped. You kept your back to him, drying cutlery and putting them into their respective bins.

“Darlin’…”

Joel’s voice was set low in a growl, leaving you unable to tell whether he was angry or aroused. You jumped as his hand grazed your lower back and settled on your waist, giving you a small squeeze.

“You wan’me to beg?”, he huskily growled into the back of your neck as he pressed a kiss to your skin.

“I gotta finish closin’ up, Joel.”, you stated, keeping your voice as even and unaffected as you could muster.

Joel let out a frustrated sigh-turned-grunt and let you go, stepping back. He leaned back against the wooden shelf behind him, the wood creaking in objection to his weight.

“Fuck, you’re being-“, he started, before letting out a huff. “What has gotten into you?”

Turning around, you were met with something you didn’t anticipate – a dark, sullen, glaring Joel, eyes burning into you.

“Joel-“, you groaned, before he cut you off.

“Don’t fuckin’ Joel me.”, he snapped. “You got a lot of fuckin’ nerve. You know what you said in front of the people eatin’ their food out there? You said I wasn’t fuckin’ you right. And then, I sit here like a goddamned fool, waitin’ for you to finish so we can talk, and you turn your back on me.”

“Joel, I need t-“

“Shut up! I ain’t done talkin’!”

You close your mouth and swallow hard. While you’d seen him get mad before, Joel had never directed it towards you before, and lord almighty, it sucked.

“You think I’m a fuckin’ mind reader? Think I’m gonna know you’re not happy?”, he asked, sounding loud and desperate, as he stood up and stalked towards you.

As he looked down at you, realization of how much bigger he was, in height and weight, came over you.

“I have said someth-“, you tried to argue, but his large hand grabbing yours and tugging you against him stopped you.

“Don’t interrupt me!”, he barked. “You aint said shit! And now you – fuck! No. You know what? Ain’t worth it!”

His eyes glowered down into yours and you in turn felt your eyes begin to sting with tears at the loss of contact. This was the most emotionally charged you’d seen Joel, and you wanted that same energy and passion when he fucked you, not use it to berate you for needing him to give you the same time and attention he showered on the food you cooked for the whole community. You could feel your face getting hot from the anger that was boiling in you over how overlooked you felt, even if it wasn’t entirely true. You were in a heated, frenzied spiral and reason and rationale had abandoned you.

Before you could snap back and tell him how worth it you actually were, Joel’s eyes softened; he let out a deep breath and let go of your arm and stepped back.

“I’ll… I’ll see you at home.”, Joel muttered before he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

You stood silently and watched him leave, feeling your heart break and immolate in your rib cage and hot tears fall down your face. It hit you hard just how hurt you both were.

*****

The house was dark when you walked in the front door. Joel had left no lights on, and you knew Ellie would be at Dina’s house for the night. The only hint you had to deduce that Joel was in fact home was the dim light you saw through his bedroom window as you approached the house. You hung your coat and tucked your boots on the shelf before quietly ascending the stairs to go to your room.

As you tiptoed in the hallways, you passed Joel’s bedroom door and heard him moving around his room. You could see his shadow from the light slipping under his doorway and felt your stomach curdle and sour, your mind jumping to rash conclusions about what he could be doing in there.

Was he packing to move out and get away from you?

Was he trying to clean up to remove your smell?

Was he collecting your things that you’d left in his room so he could hand them to you and tell you to get out?

As the thoughts rippled through your brain, you knew Joel was more methodical than that. He wouldn’t just leave or make you leave like that… would he?

You stepped forward, forgetting about that floorboard. The creak that sang out made both you and Joel’s shadow stop. You kept still for a moment, but the shadow didn’t move either. You were suddenly thrust back into your childhood; the times you were trying to sneak down into the kitchen to grab a snack or watch a blue movie on cable television without your parents catching you.

That fucking floorboard.

The shadow moved slightly, signaling Joel was getting closer to the door, and you moved quickly to your room, no longer caring how much noise you made. As you reached to grab your door handle, you heard Joel’s door pull open.

“Darlin’?”

Your hand clasped the knob, and you closed your eyes, hearing his voice.

“Yeah, Joel?”

You were surprised how soft and calm your voice sounded; it was a stark contrast to the overwhelming, post-anger, anxiety-ridden mess that was your mind.

“Turn around and look at me, Baby.”

“M’tired, Joel… Just gonna go to bed and – “

“I said turn around.”

It wasn’t a request. His tone was gentle, but you could feel it in your bones that this was a command - a soft one, but a command none the less. Your skin prickled in a wave of goosebumps, up your body, culminating at the base of your neck.

Joel must have been able to see the effect he had on you, because the voice he used to speak almost melted the flesh from your bones.

“Darlin’, you’re gonna turn around and look at me. Now.”

You turned around and looked at him. His broad and hefty silhouette stood ominously in his doorway, backlit by the soft glow from his bedroom.

“You comin’ to bed?”, Joel said quietly, but there was an edge to his tone that made your skin once again pebble.

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at his question, then shook your head subtly.

“No, Joel. I figured we’d take the night an-“

“And what?”, he snapped, stepping out into the hallway and towards you.

When you didn’t answer, he took another few steps and growled in a lower tone, “And what?!”

Your eyes went wide as he got closer, and your fight or flight kicked in. Taking a step back, you hit your bedroom door, and stumbled through your words. “I… I-I thought… I figured that you’d wanna-“

“That I’d wanna what?”, he snarled, stepping close and his full belly pressed you further into your door.

“Th-that you’d… you’d wanna be… alone to-tonight…”

Joel’s hand came up and he grabbed your chin, forcing your face square to his. “And why d’you think that?”

“Because… because we fought-“

“And you think that gives you the right to not sleep in my bed?”

You were stunned; you had no answer for him, and you also hadn’t ever been this turned on by him with out him already being knuckle deep in your pussy. You swallowed hard and stared back at him. This was a feeling you couldn’t place; it felt like you were slipping under a spell that Joel was casting.

The only response you could finally give was a headshake, and Joel returned it with a curt nod and slight grin.

“Good girl.”, he purred and released your chin.

You followed Joel back into his room, and stood awkwardly as he closed the door. You’d been in his room countless times, and you’d never felt this out of place. You jumped when he put his hands on your hips from behind and pulled you back, the curve of your spine being the perfect angle for his heavy belly to fit against.

“You feel like I’m not takin’ care of you, Darlin’?”, he huskily mewled into your ear before nipping it.

“Joel, I’m sor-“

“Stop.”, he said, abruptly stopping you from finishing your apology.

“We’re past that, Darlin’. Both said things we needed to say, even if we said’em not so nicely.”

You could hear the small smile in his voice and couldn’t help the one that tugged at your mouth slightly. A whisper soft sound came out of you with a sigh.

But then his tone dipped down, and as he rasped into your ear; one of his hands on your hip slipped to your front as he cupped your denim clad mound.

“You got my attention, baby. You feelin’ needy?”

Your mouth opened, and our flew a feather-light choked whimper. He gripped you roughly and pulled you snug against him, enough so that you could feel his thick and hard cock press against your ass.

“That why you had an attitude with me today? Needed me to fuck you? Fix that ache in your needy pussy?”

You breathed his name out as your brows furrowed and your eyes clenches closed. “Joel…” Your hand snapped on top of his over your crotch, forcing him to apply more pressure and squeeze.

“Need me to remind you that you’re mine?”, he growled before biting the crux of your neck and shoulder.

You nodded, breathing rapidly, then you let out a squeal as he shook your hand off his, then turned and shoved you against the wall. He got close and his hands made quick work in opening and shoving down your jeans. His eyes snapped up to yours and his hand dove between your legs.

“Fuck, baby…”, he sighed, eyes rolling back as he felt how wet you were. “My poor girl’s floodin’ the basement and it’s’all my fault.”

You grabbed his wrist, stabilizing yourself, and let whining pants out with each breath as his middle finger began to dip in an out of your hole. The tip of his thumb gently circled you’re aching clit.

“Yeah… I know I been neglectin’ you, baby girl… but not ‘cause of nothin’ you did… no, baby… you’re just keepin’ me too well fed and I’m fit to be tied by the time we get home… if I could fuck you the way you deserve every night…”

“Oh fuck… Joel, I need y –“

“But you always lettin’ me get away with being lazy an’watchin’ your perfect tits bounce while you fuck this fat old man…”, he rasped, his lids heavy as he watched your face contort in need. “Jesus, Darlin’, you got e’ry right to be cross with me…”

As much as you loved his voice, you needed more. Fisting his shirt, you pulled his face to yours and sucked him into a desperate and messy kiss, teeth and tongues colliding, and it was sharp and splitting. You didn’t need gentle – you needed him.

He finally pulled back, breathing heavily, same as you, and a grin tugged at his parted lips.

“Oh, Darlin’…”, he cooed, finger and thumb still working your cunt in tandem. He leaned in, ghosting his mouth over yours and asked in a voice so soft, you could have cried. “I need you to know how bad you got me, baby… tell me what I can do to prove it.”

Emboldened by his lust-blown eyes with heavy lids looking at you desperately, you put your hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle push down. A smile pulled at one side of his mouth, instantly understanding your silent request. He stepped back and groaned as he lowered himself down, joints cracking as he got on one knee, and he looked up as he pulled your jeans down further then helped you step out, one leg at a time. As he de-robed your second leg, he lifted it over his shoulder, and he scooted forward, and your eyes stayed trained on him, catching every detail, every twitch of his face as he breathed huskily and inhaled your scent. You watched his eyes flutter and roll back, like you were a buffet of fine cuisine, and he was a starved man. He pressed his nose in your crux and nudged in further, panting and swearing under his breath as he let your aroma and essence envelope him.

He took his time, as if he was making sure to catch every flavour, every note of your taste and smell, almost punishing himself for allowing you to feel unappreciated. His hands reached behind and pulled your hips forward into his face and you whimpered out a gasp as your shoulders planted against the wall behind you being the only thing keeping you upright.

“Joel…”, you breathed out, swallowing, trying to alleviate the dry mouth your open mouth breathing had caused. “Joel, please…”

He groaned into your warmth and opened his mouth, finally letting himself have a taste. His tongue licked out between your folds, starting slowly, but began to increase in intensity as he realized this was his favourite thing to savour. He grunted and panted as he lapped at you, his grip that held you so firmly to his face hurting you in the absolute best way possible.

Your fingers pulled his hair, aiding in keeping your core tightly affixed to his gaping maw, and you rocked your hip, mewling and crying out, begging him for more. Joel was in no position to deny you want you needed, not only because of the iron-clad connection currently created by both of your individual efforts, but he was eating his favourite thing. He’d denied you both for so long, he would happily suffocate between your thighs before ever taking a proper breath again if it paid the price of his sin. The noises he made as he ate and licked and devoured you sounded obscene - he sounded like a starved and feral dog, gnawing at a cut of meat tossed to him out of pity. You’re sure that if you saw his eyes, they’d be a black abyss like a shark’s as it bit down on its next meal.

The sounds he was ripping and peeling out of you were music to his ears, championing him further, pushing him harder to make you give him more of those delicious noises. He was rocking his hips in time with his mouth and tongue, letting his throbbing cock rut against the inside of his jean’s rough zipper. Between that, your taste and your fingers pulling his scalp taught with hair, he was in pure ecstasy.

He brought his hand attached to the shoulder your leg was propped up on and pushed two thick fingers into your core and began to pump them in and out - again, in time with his own hips’ rhythm. The white-hot burning coil that Joel had been slowly winding with his mouth finally sprung loose and snapped. You arched your back, silently screaming out as your body went rigid, and vaguely heard Joel growl. He continued to suck hard on your twitching and swollen clit and punched his fingers up into you as your rode out your orgasm. You heard liquid hitting the wood floor before you heard Joel let out a series of high-pitched groans.

His fingers slowed and his mouth was panting hot, quick breaths on your aching core. You looked down at him, chest heaving, to see him shakily pull his fingers from you and shove them in his mouth. Joel was a beautiful and carnal sight: breathing hard in grunts as he sucked his fingers clean. The act looked primitive, like he’d accessed his baser instincts, and he was satisfying a basic human need, a millennia in the making.

“Joel.”, you croaked, and he looked up at you with blurred eyes that slowly began to focus. He slowly pulled himself up, heaving his heavy belly. You helped him come back to his fully height and he leaned into you, pressing his forehead to yours. You could smell yourself on him as he kissed you softly before resuming your connection through foreheads.

“That was…”

“Yeah… fuck yeah… taste so good.”

“I wanna return the fav-“

Your hand cupped what you thought would be his hard cock, but stopped when you felt him softening and his jeans were warm and damp. You pulled your head back and looked at him, prompting a huffed laugh from Joel, pink flushing up his neck to his cheeks.

“You’re my favourite meal, Darlin’. You got me hooked.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

He pulled you away from the wall and onto the bed. He laid back and groaned as his spine relaxed. His full belly domed above him, moving gently up and down with each breath and you sat up, giving it a rub.

“You ate well tonight…”, you cooed, unbuckling his belt and opening his jean to access the mess he made.

He chuckled, supporting his head on an arm as he watched you with a grin. “Couldn’t help it… you serve food too good to not destroy myself on it, Darlin’.”

You shot him a look as you peeled back his damp and sticky underwear.

“Like I said, Darlin’… you serve up a good meal.”

beef's glossary: The term "blue movie" is an old-fashioned slang term used to describe pornographic films, usually of the low budget variety.

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beefrobeefcal · 8 months

Text

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Joel Miller One Shot

Please welcome Joel Miller to Beefro's Bistro!

a Joel Miller & his Darlin' One Shot: The Way into a Man's Heart

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You've been traveling companions and now that you're in Jackson, Joel's getting comfortable. (Post Outbreak)

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 3,650

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), p in the v - unwrapped (don't be silly, cover you willy, kids!), talk of eating, belly praise, self esteem, weight gain, flannel shirt button popping

Author's Notes: FINALLY! The long awaited addition to the Menu is here! I wrote the majority of this listening to Hozier's new album so please forgive my non-fluffy heart if there are traces of fluff. Thank you to the Nonnie who submitted the illuminating THOT!

Major thanks to @harryleatherfit for their support, and to all those on the TAGLIST - this one's for you, babes 💜 The THOT TANK is always open, Friendos

--------<3----------

They found you in an abandoned apartment building somewhere in the Midwest, and after being cooped up together – surviving – for few days, it was settled that the duo had become a trio. Joel came across as a gruff and emotionless man and while he made you feel supremely unwelcome at first, he grew to at least give you the impression that he tolerated you for Ellie. For the next several months, it was just the three of you, trekking through the ruins of America.

The three of you finally found Joel’s brother and were tentatively welcomed into Jackson. It had taken some time for you, Joel, and Ellie to find your bearings after you’d arrived being that, for the first time in a while, you were expected to act in a civil manner towards others in proximity instead of defending yourselves and fighting for resources.

You and Joel were not a couple. He had never shown any interest towards you beyond your uncanny fishing ability, while you tried to not think of him as anything more than muscle and reinforcement in your travelling party. You were attracted to him, and you did your damnedest to squash any and all thoughts of him being more than a survival companion. This was made worse for you as Ellie would not even discuss the idea of you not being under the same roof in Jackson as she and Joel. Maria and Tommy had set the three of you up in a 3-bedroom home across from them, and you did your best to find a homey-rhythm as a trio.

While you and Ellie had taken to this new life with a relative ease, Joel was almost fighting it. Ellie let her curiosity run wild and you tried to find a social group, but Joel fought back. He didn’t engage with anyone that weren’t a select few outside of sideways glares and grunts in responses to hellos. He declined to get new clothing and outright refused to sleep in a bed until Ellie threatened to spill his deep, dark secrets to you that she had learned through his sleep talking. Even with food, now that there wasn’t a food scarcity or a worry about the next meal, he still refused to stray from his food rationing way of eating. He didn’t go to the mess hall to eat, opting instead for keeping to himself in the house, picking away at whatever was on hand in the pantry.

That was, until you had been assigned kitchen duty due to your skills from working as a teenage line cook in a diner, pre-apocalypse. You’d brought some food home from the mess hall one evening, and Joel picked at it, grumbling that it was decent and wouldn’t be opposed to you bringing home more.

So, you did. And he began to actually sit at the table and eat, but he didn’t come to the mess hall until the following week when you’d told him you were making a beef brisket buffet on the Friday night. While he’d shown more enthusiasm than you had ever seen before (he raised his eyebrows), you were very surprised that night when the hall went quiet as he entered with Ellie at his side.

Your supervisor was so shocked that he showed up, he suggested you sit with him since more than likely no one else would. Ellie took off immediately to sit with kids her own age from school, and that had led you to sitting at a small table in the corner with Joel, watching him eat. And good god, did he eat.

His first serving disappeared before you could even begin yours, and he was back with his second helping with an actual – albeit small – grin on his face.

“I have never seen you look so… happy…”, you mused with a smile at him.

“Never had reason to be… but this is good… haven’t had food like this in… fuck… years.”, he grunted while shovelling food in his mouth.

He looked up at you and gave you a brief smile as he chewed before going back to eating and your heart skipped a beat. That was the kindest he had ever been to you, and you felt those walls you’d built up around those thoughts and feelings you had for him shake.

You’d finished your food and stood up to return your dirty dishes, but as you went to walk away, he called your name.

“Hey Darlin’… uh, mind getting me another helping?”, he asked with a full mouth.

You nodded with a dumb grin at the new nickname, dumped off your dishes, and returned with another plate for Joel.

****

Three months later, the food he was allowing himself was starting to make an impact on his waistline. Never shying from second or third helpings, whether in the mess hall or at home, his tummy was more pronounced whether it was full or not.

You did your best to keep yourself in check, to not let yourself daydream about how that belly might feel under your fingers, or let your mind get carried away listening to the noises he made as he soothed his bloated middle. He would occasionally offer you little grins or a head nod, something he only recently began since being in Jackson, and you assumed he was being polite now that death wasn’t around every corner; this was just his true nature coming out. You figured your time living under one roof was coming to an end, given that you, he and Ellie were safe, and you didn’t need to keep such close quarters while you built your lives back up.

Ellie was spending more time with other kids and less at the house, while Joel continued to patrol and work in the carpentry shop, and you worked away in the community kitchen. When you and Joel were home alone, he kept a respectful distance from you. If there were moments your bodies could touch, like when you did dishes after dinner or he needed help carrying firewood in the house, he generally made a point of not getting too close and stepping back from you and looking away. You took the hint and figured the conversation of your moving into a place of your own was on its way.

*****

One Saturday evening, Joel had really outdone himself on the pork carnitas in the mess hall. You noticed he shifted in discomfort and discreetly had his hand on his lap. It took you a moment, but you finally realized he was unbuckling his belt and opened his pants. You averted your eyes to not embarrass him, but not before you saw that his belly was pushing out on to his lap. Joel Miller was having his fill, damned be his pants.

After he announced he was done, his green flannel shirt was pulled so tight across his middle that you swore you could hear the seams creaking and there were spaces between each of his buttons, exposing his undershirt.

The walk back to your house was relatively quiet, save for Joel’s grunting and huffing every other step from the strain of his full belly.

“Fuck me… I made a real hog outta m’self tonight…”, he groaned as you walked next to him. “Sorry you gotta see me like this, Darlin’.”

You could hear the embarrassment in his voice, and you felt bad for him. His belly, while full and bloated and bigger than you’d ever seen on him, was still smaller compared to some of the other Jackson men’s stomachs, but you knew if he kept this up, he’d be matching them in no time.

“Oh Joel… knock it off… I take it as a compliment. You actually smiled tonight… nothing to be sorry for.”, you responded in a matter-of-fact voice. “You enjoyed yourself.”

He scoffed, as you reached your porch, and opened the door. You helped him into the house, then closed the front door, both of you kicking off your boots.

“Good god… when the hell d’we get all these damn stairs?”, he groaned as he got to the bottom of the stairwell leading to the bedrooms on the second floor.

“Come sit on the couch… you’re not making it up the stairs anytime soon, Joel.”

You patted the back of the couch, then headed to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. “You want anything else?”, you called to him.

You heard him bark a laugh. “D’you see me right now? You think I could get anymore in’ere?”

You heard him sit heavily on the couch followed by him grunting “Dammit!”.

Walking in, you saw Joel sitting back, knees apart, and his favourite shirt unbuttoned to his chest, his undershirt riding up and exposing a strip of his belly and showed his pants were pushed open by his stuffed middle.

“What happened?”, you asked, walking back in with a glass of water for you both.

“Damn fuckin’… Jesus…”, he muttered, his cheeks blushing in deep scarlet. He noted you were still looking at him for answer. “My fuckin’ buttons popped. Wrecked my favourite shirt.”

You couldn’t help but smile. Joel, the hardened, battle-scarred killer who shot first and asked questions later, was blushing.

“It’s a good look on you.”, you teased as you sat in the chair next to the couch, leaning back and feeling emboldened by his vulnerability.

“What is?”, he sheepishly looked up at you.

“A big dinner.”, you smirked as you took a drink of you water, eyes on his.

He stared at you a moment then down to his round stomach, and he huffed a laugh and smiled to himself. You sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before he spoke.

“Didn’t know you could cook like that, Darlin’. Probably a good thing I didn’t know till we got here, too… couldn’t outrun shit with this full gut…”, he said, eyes still cast down and hand on his belly.

“Thank you.” It was your turn to blush, and before you could stop yourself, you said quietly, “Didn’t know you’d look so good like that.”

Realization hit both you and Joel about what you’d said, and you wanted to crawl in a hole as you saw his eyes go wide.

“Joel… oh my god… I am so…”, you started, covering your face and you didn’t see the grin that grew across Joel’s face and the look in his eyes as he watched you.

“I’m just findin’ all sorts’a things ‘bout you lately, darlin’...”, he teased in a low voice. “And here I thought you weren’t interested… and leavin’ me hanging.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you swallowed hard before you had the nerve to look up at him. His brown eyes were dark and looked hungry? He trailed his stare up and down your body as you sat and subtly licked his lips.

“Joel… I…”, you stuttered, paused, then finally asked, “Wait… what did you say?”

He gave you a lopsided grin and sat back with a smug face and stated, “I swear, darlin’, I thought you weren’t interested.”

You just looked back at him with wide eyes while his smug demeanor shifted into a gentler and warmer gaze. He smiled and patted the seat next to him.

“Come over here, baby.”, he spoke softly.

You stood slowly and his eyes never left yours and he raised his hand to take yours as you sat next to him sideways to face him fully. His hand went to your waist, his thumb stroking you.

“You drunk or something?”, you questioned teasingly with a smile.

He sighed a small laugh, his eyes again trailing up and down your body. “Nope, darlin’. Just felt like it was ‘bout time I was honest since I’m learnin’ so much ‘bout you lately.” He sucked in a breath and licked his lips again when his eyes watched your chest move with your breathing. “You look good, darlin’. Real fuckin’ good.”

His eyes moved up to yours and you could see the want, the need you held back for so long, burning in his eyes. You moved forward, your hand cupping his face.

“So do you, Joel.”, you breathed as you kissed him.

You heard him sigh into the kiss and push into it, his grip on your waist tightened, fisting your shirt and pulling you closer. You instinctively ran your hand over his taught, full belly and he shivered as you did, his grip trying to pull you onto his lap now.

“Get up, baby… can’t bend that way right now… get on me…”, he instructed you in a breathy tone as you moved to staddle his lap.

Your smaller frame was now right up against his swollen belly as you frantically made out on the couch.

“God damn… fuckin’ hell, darlin’… if weren’t so damned full, I’d do this properly in bed upstairs…”, he panted as you moved your kisses to his jaw and neck and began to rock your hips. His hands grabbed your hips and pulled them down to put more friction on his denim-clad cock. “Make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

He roughly jammed his hand between the two of you, cupping your heat as he began to make lude promises in whispers as you whimpered kisses along his neck.

“That’s right, darlin’… makin’ those pretty sounds… bet your pussy tastes better than your cookin’… how many nights I fucked my fist wishin’ it were your mouth…. Never thought you’d want an old fat fucker like me….”

You finally worked up the ability to push yourself back from him, and you looked down at his dark, blown-out pupils and his parted, panting lips, knowing you looked the same, while his hand stilled on your jeaned heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you, Darlin’?”, he breathed out, eyes pinned to yours.

You nodded as your hands moved to his shoulders and you pressed your mouth to his. He deepened the kiss for a moment, the pushed you up gently.

“Darlin’…”, his voice needy and almost desperate. “Baby, take your pants off…”

You stood up and removed your shirt and jeans, leaving you in your bra and panties. Joel huffed as he moved himself up off the couch, dropping his already open jeans, the grabbed your arm pulling you towards him.

“So fuckin’ pretty…”, he smiled before kissing you.

His arms wrapped around you and your hands went to his hair and around his shoulder. Unlike the previous kisses that were hasty and desperate, this one was slow, methodical, and carried over a year’s worth of unspoken emotions that neither of you were brave enough to put words to.

Joel pulled back first and softly smiled at you before he said is voice far too soft for the words he spoke.

“I’m gonna fuck you into this couch, Darlin’.”

His mouth is back on yours, hungry. Teeth and fervor, clashing between you. All that soft, gentle kissing was gone, Joel had given into what ever primal urges you had unearthed in him. You moan into his mouth as his hand grips your hair, pulling your head back.

“Joel… please…”, you begged breathlessly. “Take it... take me…”

He smiled darkly at you and pushed you face down over the arm of the couch, his hands going to the waist of your panties. He paused as if waiting for confirmation that you wanted this. You nodded and gave a strangled “uh-huh” and he pulled them down.

Joel let out a noise that you can only think was one from a starving man looking at a banquet feast. He dragged his thick finger through your slick folds, making you squirm and whimper.

“Oh, baby, you’re so fuckin’ pretty… bet your tight little cunt’s just waitin’… your pussy’s droolin’ for me, Darlin’... I’m gonna wreck you for any other man… wanna bury myself in your tight little cunt… so fucking pretty, baby.”

“Joel, please… fuck me… please… don’t tease!”, you cried out, unable to get any further friction from his fingers given the way you were splayed out on the couch arm.

“That’s right, baby… gonna take care of you, Darlin’… gonna make you feel good… patience, baby…gotta work you open for me.”

He removed his fingers and spit on them before he pumped one into your cunt, his thumb gently rubbing your neglected and throbbing clit. His finger was thick, and you could only imagine how big his cock was; you’d once got a quick glance at the outline before Jackson and if that was any indication, he was doing you a favour getting you primed and ready for him. He pulled back and added another finger after a moment, picking up his pace and you cried out and called his name as you gripped the couch cushion.

“So tight, Darlin’… tell me how bad you needed this, baby… tell me… tell me you need me.”

“I-I need this… Joel… need you, Joel… so bad… wanted this for so long… oh god… yes… there… right there, Joel… please, oh fuck!... Joel... Joel… keep going!”, you panted with a whine.

He pushed a third finger in, and you cried out and clawed at the couch cushion.

“Shhh, baby… come on, Darlin’… need to fuck you after this and I gotta get you open for me… need it to feel good for you… doing so good… I can feel it…. you’re close, Darlin’… let go for me, baby… come on.”

You could feel your orgasm building up, and when he curled his fingers and hit that sweet spot buried deep in your cunt, you came, crying out like a beaten dog.

“There you go… that’s it, Darlin’… sing for me, baby.”

He worked you through your orgasm, and when you felt like you could breathe normally, you tried to push yourself up. Joel’s hand rubbed in between your shoulder, and he gently pushed you back down.

“Darlin’, I’m too full to fuck you the way I outta… but you look to fucking good to pass up… you gonna let me have you here, baby?”. His tone was pleading and needy, but gruff, while his harsh, calloused hands gently rubbed you on you back where he pushed you down.

His words and the way he said them had your insides turn to mush and you could feel another gush of arousal slip from your puffy cunt.

“Please…”, was all your fuck-drunk brain could muster in a pathetic, breathy whine.

“Too good to me, Darlin’… too fuckin’ good to this fat old man.”, he groaned as he pushed his aching, hard cock into your tight, slippery cunt.

The feeling was too much. For a moment, you thought it wasn’t going to work, but he soothed you. He kept pushing himself in slowly, offering words of praise while his fingers dug into your hips.

“Takin’ me so good, Darlin’… that’s it, honey… so good… feel so fuckin’ good…”

He pushed in as far as his length could go and his tip kissed your cervix. Your lungs felt like they couldn’t fill with air you were so full, and you needed him to do something.

“You gotta relax, baby… I can’t move shit unless you relax…”

“Joel… please move… need you to move… so full… move, please…”, you whined, trying to catch your feet on the floor so you could push back into him.

He panted a chuckle and began to move, slowly at first, then increased his hip’s speed and intensity until he was ramming into you. The couch was squeaking on the wood floors from Joel’s weight repeatedly being forced against it. The couch’s rough material was rubbing harshly against your hip bones, but it was worth it for the sweet sting of Joel splitting you open as his heavy, full belly hitting your ass cheeks.

“Oh god… Joel… yes… yes… k-keep going… yes… fuck…”, you panted, tears in your eyes.

“So good… baby… you gotta come… come on, baby… you’re close, Darlin’… come on…”

The white-hot burn of your second climax crept down your spine and built up as his finger went to your clit, rubbing circles, pushing you over the edge. Your vision went blurry for a moment your body went rigid, your mouth open and high-pitched pants and moans escaped from it.

Joel’s hips sputtered as your climax pushed him to his own release. He let out a few deep, guttural grunts as he thrusted a few more times, spilling his hot seed into you.

He tried to not collapse onto you as he pulled out. He stumbled back into the armchair as you pushed yourself up off the couch’s arm.

“Fuck, Darlin’… wish you could stay bent over like that… sucha pretty sight…”, he huffed in a laugh as you got up. He patted his leg. “Come’ere, baby…”

You clumsily moved over to him and held your hands out. “No… up, Joel… Ellie could walk in the door at any moment and the last thing she needs to see is you stuffed to the gills with your dick out in the living room.”

“Sucha fuckin’ mouth on you!”, Joel grinned, and moved his hands to yours. “Better get a move on… let’s go to bed.”

You collected your abandoned clothing that was strewn throughout the living room and got Joel upstairs into his bedroom. You went to your room to clean yourself up and change, and there was a knock at the door. Upon opening it, Joel saw you and pushed his way in, closing it behind him.

He pulled you close to him, his belly pressed against your middle. You touched his face softly, gently running your fingers through his scruffy facial hair.

He smiled and kissed you tenderly and said softly against your mouth, “I got you, Darlin’… tell me you’ve got me… please…”

“I got you, Joel.” --------<3----------

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beefrobeefcal · 13 days

Text

Beefro proudly presents:

a Joel Miller & his Darlin' drabble: Just Wanted To Hear Your Voice Summary: You go for a night out and your minds wanders back to the man you share a home with. (Post Outbreak)

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader | Rating: 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 1,245

Content Warning: allusions to smut, swearing, Joel & Darlin' being cuddle bugs

Author's Notes: this whole thing is courtesy of @iamasaddie & their prompt challenge. Thank you to @noxturnalpascal for being so sensible in their support and betaing this for me.

The need to socialize was something you’d not anticipated to ever feel again. After everything ended, normalcy became fight or flight and socializing for fun was a thing of the past. That is, until you and Joel had settled in Jackson. Being that you now no longer had to wonder where your next meal was coming from or had to keep looking over your shoulder for another threat, things that hadn’t held weight in years were starting to make their way back into your life.

“I’m goin’ out tonight.”, you said nonchalantly as you buttoned up your flannel shirt.

Looking up at your reflection, you caught Joel giving you a small smirk as he hoisted himself up from the bed.

He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you flush with his big middle.

“Goin’ out? With who?”, he said in a hushed tone, pressing kisses to your neck.

“Maria, Dajana, Lisbeth… the usual suspects.”

“Ah, ‘s a girls night out.”

“Yeah. ‘S why you’re not invited.”

Joel chuckled and playfully gave your ass a spank.

*****

When you’d gotten home from working in the kitchen, you’d quickly cleaned up and changed, nervously anticipating something that you’d long since given up on ever doing again. You ran down the stairs just as Joel walked in the door and saw you in a dress.

He let out a long, low whistle. “You sure you’re goin’ out, Darlin’?”

You smiled at him, did a spin to show off your outfit, and Joel licked his lips. He nodded his head at you, and crooned, “Get over here. Need a closer look.”

The clock on the wall read that you were already in danger of being late, so you shook your finger at him with a smile as you tried to pass him to get to the door. Despite his added weight, he was still quick enough to catch you.

“You behave tonight. And have fun.”, he said against your mouth between kisses.

“Can’t do both at the same time, Joel.”, you teased. Giving him one last kiss, you squirmed out of his grip and scampered out the door.

*****

You’d lost count of how many rounds your table had ordered at the Tipsy Bison, and you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Feeling the alcohol dampen your senses in a euphoric way, you found yourself lost in thought over how the luxury of letting loose was now something you had.

The conversation at the table moved easily through different topics, starting tame with things like the weather and town events and then slipped into gossip, giggled between sips of beer and bouts of laughter. The subject of sex came up and you sat back with a wide grin as the women went back and forth over just about anything and everything that could potentially fall under the umbrella of sex. One had a complaint about their partner that they expressed in a hilarious anecdote, another regaled the table with a story about almost getting caught by her in-laws giving a blow job. Tears were in your eyes from laugher, and when it was your turn to speak, you paused, keenly aware that Joel’s sister-in-law was sitting at the table. Instead of sharing how Joel pulled you apart with almost surgical precision before he fucked you into oblivion, you settled for one of your favourite things about him.

“I love his voice. The way he talks.”, you smile, looking at your half full glass of beer with a small smile.

“Joel is not what I would a talkative man. You sure we’re talking about the same guy?”, Lisbeth teased.

“The man knows exactly what to say.”, you chuckled, feeling your cheeks heat up. Realizing that everyone at the table assumed you were referring exclusively to Joel’s dirty talk, you saved yourself the embarrassment of getting sentimental and stated, “He saves his daily word count for nocturnal activities.”

The knowing looks and nods around the table followed by agreement and similar sentiments allowed your mind to wander to Joel. Sure, his bedroom talk was just something else, but his voice - now that was what you loved. The non-verbal sounds he made: the grunts, the huffs, the chuckles, the sighs, the moans, the breaths, the whines, the whimpers, the growls, the hums…

You’d learned that Joel was more than the words he said long before you realized you loved him. Just the slight pitch change in a groan was enough to tell you it was safe to push or to retreat. Being allowed to get close enough to learn this about him was not just a point of pride, it was something you cherished. In turn, Joel could read you well enough to know if he could move forward or let you take the lead.

You were shaken from your thoughts by Dajana nudging you with a laugh.

“Daydreaming about that dick, huh?”

You laughed and agreed, not yet ready to delve into the depths of how bad you had it for Joel. “Speakin’ of – I’m gonna head out.”

The women all half-heartedly tried to get you to stay as they one by one all decided to head home. You bid them good night and paid your tab on the way out the door.

*****

“You’re home early, baby. Everything okay?”, Joel asked softly with brows furrowed as you walked in. He was sitting in the armchair in front of fire with a small knife and a little wooden giraffe he was carving in his hands.

You said nothing, keeping eye contact as you took off your jacket and walked towards him. He watched you, seeing the telltale haze of beer in your eyes and held his hand out for you. You took it and crawled onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his head against your chest. He wrapped his arms around your middle and held you close, letting out a content hum and your heart swelled. The rhythm of his breaths was even and soothing.

You held each other for an indeterminate period of time, each relishing in the other’s comfort and yet existing as one. The pleasant cocoon was paused as Joel moved his head and nudged his nose against your chin, silently asking for you to look at him.

When you did, he gave a soft smile that traveled to his eyes and his brought his hand to your cheek. “You okay?”

“Keep talking…”, you hummed in response.

Joel huffed a laugh and eyed you, “Darlin’… you’re home early an’awfully cuddly.”

You smiled and a soft giggle hovered in your throat as you closed your eyes.

“Come on, baby. Talk to me. Somethin’ happen or one of th – “

“I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Joel pulled back and looked up at you, confusion written on his face. His brows raised and the confusion melted into amusement.

“Darlin’, you’re drunk.”

You let a laugh out, echoing through the house like chimes. “Maybe, but I know I love you.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you froze. You and Joel had never said it to one another. You felt Joel pull you into him again, coaxing your tense body to relax. The small sound he made in response, the pitch and tone and the timber, the way you felt the sound vibrate from him through to you more than you heard it… it was all you needed to know he loved you, too.

#writing challenge 2.0 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #chubby!joel miller #chubby!joel #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #chubby joe #chubby pedro rights !!!#chubby pedro pascal #fat belly #pedro pascal tummy nation #beefro's bistro #beefro is sweating #you asked beefro answered #🥩

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beefrobeefcal · 6 months

Note

you are dieter’s new personal chef and you’re supposed to be responsible for making sure he eats fairly well just to maintain his current weight while he shoots a movie… but you can’t help how much you like it when you make him something particularly indulgent and he melts at the taste of your food, spewing compliments left and right and a couple of flirts here and there too 🤭

To Nonnie Love Beefro

A LONG TIME COMING, BUT HE'S HERE NONNIE! And I hope he lives up to the hype.

I-just-want-to-thank-you-sweet-baby-for-getting-me-through regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

--------<3----------

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Dieter One Shot

Please welcome Dieter Bravo to Beefro's Bistro!

a 'Dieter Bravo & Cookie' One Shot: Contract Conundrum

Pairing: Dieter Bravox F!Reader

Summary: You're hired to get Dieter ready for a heavyweight role.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 4,274

Author's Notes: FINALLY! I know.. I KNOW. Between sinus infections depression and house guests, Dieter took the brunt of my willy-nilly gumption. I'm sorry, my babies... I hope he lives up to the hype and you're left sated.

Major thanks to @neverwheremoonchild for beta-ing the hell out of this for me, and to @theywhowriteandknowthings + @rebel-held for being champions!

--------<3----------

Generally, when you are hired for a new job as a private chef, it’s to help your client lose weight or introduce a new lifestyle – like veganism – to their household. But this was new; Dieter Bravo needed to gain weight for a role, and you were the one hired to help him do it.

Before you had even been introduced to him, you were handed an NDA by his manager along with the contract and the job requirements. Outlined in both were the meal plans, expectations, conduct, and specifically the amount he had to gain and time frame in which you had to help his achieve this. You sat across from his manager, Dan, while you read through the documents.

“If you have any questions…”, Dan started, voice pleasant but sounding like he really didn’t want you to ask him anything.

You looked up from the paperwork and nodded politely, then your eyes went back down. You noted under Requirements, it stated that you would be living on site with Dieter, and you would not be compensated for any adult activities you chose to engage in, nor would you receive any additional compensation for anything produced because of them. You had a good idea what that meant and any confusion as to why it was written in your contract evaporated when you remembered who you would be working for.

Dieter Bravo had a reputation based on rumours, and this contract just confirmed them all to be true. You smiled to yourself as you finished reading the documents. You picked up the pen and signed your future for the next year on the last page.

*****

You had a finite time to get Dieter heavier, and he was making it difficult. You were just over a week in, and his picky eating habits were hampering your efforts to do your job. He’d told you he liked fancy food, but everything that you made him had come back to the kitchen barely touched, and he’d refused, like a spoiled child, to tell you what he actually wanted.

According to his assistant, Frank, Dieter took this movie role for a paycheque and sighed the contract before being told he’d have to gain weight for it. His vanity had come into play, but the amount he would have to pay to get out of the contract was ridiculously high. After tantrums and screaming matches with Dan, his manager, Dieter finally agreed to do the role, but he wanted a private chef.

“He swore me to secrecy.”, Frank whispered to you in the kitchen. He took a look at the door then turned back to you. “Don’t tell him you heard this from me, but he’s a classic stoner… grilled cheese, burgers, pizza… y’know?”

You gave Frank a grin and motioned your lips being sealed. “I heard nothing. You were never here. I just happened to take a chance and hit the jackpot.”

That evening, Dieter wandered down to the kitchen to rebuke whatever five-star dining experience you’d conjured up.

“Hello, Mr. Bravo. Dinner will be served in just a few minutes.”, you said, looking up and smiling at him.

“Evening, Cookie....” He gave a half-hearted smile back as he went to the dining room and plunked down at the table. His grey t-shirt and black sweatpants had seen better days, and he fished a joint out of one of his pockets, lighting it up and taking a few drags.

You walked in, pushing a cart with a personal pepperoni pizza and garlic bread sticks on it.

“What in the fuck?!”, Dieter coughed as he blew out the smoke, his eyes wide.

“I’m… sorry, Mr. Bravo?”, you asked, placing the food onto the table.

“What… what’s this?!” , he asked, waving his hands at the pizza. “Cookie, where’s the… th-the fancy shit?!”

“Do you not want pizza, sir?” You were playing dumb and thankfully he was too flabbergasted to notice.

“Of course, I want fucking pizza!”, he yelled angrily. “That’s not the fucking point!”

He stared at you, chest and shoulders heaving with his deep breaths. You stared right back, beginning to question if taking Frank’s advice was a good idea… or even if it was good advice.

He slowly brought the joint back to his mouth and took a puff, holding your stare. You waited for him to throw you out of the house or berate you. Instead, he blew the smoke out of his nose and said in a sinister growl, “This better be the best goddamned pizza I’ve ever had.”

Apparently, it was the best goddamned pizza because he ate the entire thing. You attributed his appetite that night to the amount of weed he had in his system.

*****

This became the new routine: each night, you would make another one of his favourites for dinner and he would behave appallingly, then eat the whole thing. You were amused by his show each night, and he really wasn’t rude or mean to you, he was just loud with a lot of swearing, that was followed by him cleaning his plate.

It didn’t take long for this routine to start to make an impact on him. While he wore loose fitting clothing, after a few months of him indulging in your cooking, the softer jawline under his scruffy beard and the belly that would pop out firm under his shirt on occasion told you that you were doing your job well.

Over the next few weeks, he seemed to become more appreciative of the effort you put into the food you made. Dieter would often come into the kitchen while you were prepping for the meal and watch, commenting on how you were creating art for him to consume and how that was the perfect metaphor for a capitalistic society. While you appreciated his enthusiasm, you could not help but roll your eyes when he went on rants, waving his arms around, yelling about how life is fleeting, and art is forever or some other bullshit. Despite this, it was endearing how passionate he was, even if you had no idea what he was talking about.

As you spent more time with him, however, he started to make little passes at you that you would ignore and take in good humor, playing innocent to his flirting. It wasn’t anything serious or off putting at first; he would comment on how nice your outfit was or asking what you were doing after you were done your shift with an eyebrow wiggle. As of late, though, the harmless flirting and compliments started to become a little more aggressive. He was far more overt with his eyes washing over you and his hands finding their way to touch you, and he would ask you to sit with him while he ate. He eventually started asking you what you would do if he didn’t finish his dinner or if he was good and ate it all up, what reward he would get. It was definitely weird to begin with, but you came to accept it as part of working for eccentric artist who paid you very, very well.

You weren’t one to dip your pen in the company ink and breaking that rule for none other than Dieter Bravo seemed a little too cliché for you.

*****

“What’s on the menu?”, he called out from down the hallway as he walked towards the kitchen.

“Spaghetti and meatballs, Mr. Bravo.”, you responded casually, not looking up from the pasta sauce you stirred on the stove top.

“Gonna be enough?”, he asked with his hands in his pockets, watching you from over his sunglasses with a wide grin.

Looking up, you gave him a questioning look. “Mr. Bravo?”

His face looked over you as his tongue darted out quickly. He shuffled his weight from one foot to the other. “You heard me, Cookie.”

You hummed with a slight eye roll and nodded, then went back to the pot on the stove. This was obviously not the reaction he wanted because he came around the kitchen counter and stood next to you, his shoulder bumping yours.

“You ready to feed me?”, Dieter stated in a low, almost sultry voice, bringing his hand up to your lower back.

“Dinner will be ready soon, Mr. Bravo.”, you nodded again, trying to ignore his tone and touch, eyes down on the pot of pasta sauce you were stirring.

He huffed a laugh and moved behind you, nudging his nose against your neck, his hands gently holding your shoulder.

You shrugged his hands off you and turned around. You were not in the mood for him being so overt.

“Mr. Bravo – behave!”, you snapped, pointing the mixing spoon from the sauce at him.

Dieter grinned at you, his eyes scanning over your body.

“If I behave, do I get a reward, Cookie?”, he crooned with a flicker in his eyes.

You stared at him, trying to find words to tell him off, but the lookhe gave you had you feeling weak in the knees. You clenched your jaw – and thighs – and turned back to the stove top.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour or so, Mr. Bravo.” Your voice cracked, unintentionally letting him know he’d broken through the first layer.

*****

Prior to Dieter finding you in the kitchen, he’d been upstairs in his room, looking at porn and lazily stroking himself. Despite the debauchery on his laptop, his mind wandered to you downstairs. He thought about you often, enjoying the way you squirmed and flushed when he teased you and how you politely listened to his ramblings about ‘true art’ and the way your eyes would drift over his body, landing on his now fuller middle. He smiled to himself and looked down at his bare stomach. His smile fell a bit, noting that his decadence was really starting to show, and a pang of insecurity washed over him. He’d seen the recent papshots of himself, round belly protruding as he left a restaurant completely stuffed along with the heading ‘Dad-Bod Bravo Almost Unrecognizable!’ along with the numerous comments that he’d come to expect, critiquing his physique to cruelly mocking him. His dick went limp at the thought of it all.

He turned off the grainy video of a 65+ orgy that was on his screen and searched for those papshots again. If he wasn’t going to get off, he was going to punish himself. He clicked on the link to a gossip site and sighed, scrolling and rereading the comments until one made him almost choke on his own spit.

‘DIETER BABY YOU EATIN WELL. LOVE THIS FOR YOU.’

His eyes went wide, reading and rereading the comment, looking for any sign that this was a joke. He clicked on the comment, opening up the thread of responses, all of them being along the same line.

‘i want to feed him while we cockwarm’

‘CANT EVEN AT HOW FUCKIN GOOD HE LOOKS LIKE THIS’

‘Is it wrong to admit that seeing bravo with a big belly has awoken something in me?’

‘HOW MUCH DO YOU THINK HE HAD TO PACK AWAY TO GET HERE? COS HE DIDNT LOOK LIKE THIS A FEW MONTHS AGO. KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK BB DIETER.’

He stared at his screen, shocked. The final comment made his dick at once stand at attention:

‘who’s the lucky bitch getting to stuff our husband’s tummy? think they know how fucking blessed they are?’

*****

Dieter sat at the dining room table and watched as you plated the spaghetti for him with a wry grin, giving you a wink when you looked at him. Frank, his assistant, had warned that Dieter was a kinky bastard who liked to set up scenarios in his head then execute them with most being none the wiser until it was too late. When you asked him to elaborate, he just gave a sympathetic shrug and said, “You’ll know it when you see it.”

You were pretty sure you were seeing it now. Fuck.

“Sit with me, Cookie?”, he cooed with his head tilted.

You shook your head. “I need to clean up, Mr. Bravo.”

He pouted. “Please? I’ll be good…”

You sighed and moved to sit down in the chair across from him.

“Closer.” His tone was low. “Please.”

You sighed and pulled out the chair next to him; as soon as you sat down, he reached for the leg of the chair and pulled it right next to him, your legs touching.

The heat that had been building up under your skin all evening felt like it was going to burst as the hand that pulled your chair was now on your thigh, fingers softly touching and gently lifting your skirt higher. His nose nuzzled your ear as he mouthed kisses to your neck.

“So soft, Cookie… maybe you have a treat for me if I’m a good boy… if I fit every fucking bit of this in my gut, you’ll let me eat you raw…”

Every nerve ending in your body screamed at once, and the goosebumps that erupted made your skin feel electric under his lips. Despite this, you still tried to move away from him, not wanting to cross that line. You stood up and stood with your chair between you and him.

He didn’t stop you. And when you looked back at him, he didn’t look disappointed - he looked… encouraged?!?

“Cookie… nothing is sexier than consent.”, he growled with a lupine grin, picking up his fork. “But I don’t think you really wanna stop… just want a different position, huh baby?”

He twirled the fork in his pasta and stabbed the meatball, then shoved the whole forkful into his mouth. With wide eyes, you watched him; your mouth went dry as you tried to swallow, and your panties got wet as you crushed your thighs together.

As a chef, one of the great joys was seeing people enjoy your work, but this was on a wholly different level. Dieter was commanding you with just his intense gaze to watch him devour the meal you prepared him, and you couldn’t look away. You were now fully engaged in his scenario, yet you weren’t tethered or being held in place – it was just the magnetic pull of him eating your food that kept you in place. Bite after bite, he held eye contact and the only sounds he made were the occasional hum of appreciation and his quiet chewing.

He finished his plate and held it up towards you, a wry smile and a dark gaze on his face.

“More, please, Cookie.”

You nodded and stepped towards him, moving the chair between you out of the way. You took the plate from him, and his hand ghosted around your wrist, testing the waters with you again, but you didn’t pull away this time. Your eyes locked onto his and he gave you a ridiculously innocent and sweet smile before his hand slid up your skirt and he kneaded your ass cheek.

“Mr. Br-Bravo!”, you breathed out.

He was being so gentle, so soft; it was breaking your resolve.

“Oh Cookie… fuck…”, he groaned as he placed wet, hot open mouth kisses on your neck and jaw. “Dieter, baby… call me, Dieter.”

He moved the hand that was under your skirt to your wrist again and he pulled you down, placing your hand to his stomach.

“Feel that, Cookie?” His voice was soft, almost like he was praising you. “Making me fat...”

All you could do was nod, feeling the heat blooming in your cunt. You knew any sounds you tried to make would only come out as a whimper or a whine. You palmed his chubby middle and sucked in a breath, closing your eyes.

“Yeah, baby... I know what you want, I see you watching me...”, he grinned, his voice keeping that low register. Your eyes shot open, and you tried to pull your hand away, but he held it firm. “No shame in it, Cookie... everyone should do what they’re good at...”

He suddenly pulled you down further by the wrist into a surprisingly gentle kiss. He pulled back and looked at you.

“I wanna eat you raw... get on the table.”

You stared down at him, knowing the moment you got on the table, legs open for him, there would be no going back.

You shook your head, and his raised eyebrow in response threatened the tantrum he was willing to throw, that he’d become so famous for when he didn’t get his way. You weren't going to let him win this... at least not yet.

The voice that came out of your mouth even surprised you. “You need to finish your dinner. No dessert until then.”

A giant grin that ripped across his face. “Kinky Cookie... bad girl... I like it.”

*****

By the time every bite of spaghetti and meatballs were safely tucked away in Dieter’s overstuffed belly, he’d removed his shirt and pants, only sitting in his boxer shorts and his green housecoat. Every hiccough made his tummy condense and he would wince. He held it gently and let out a whine that turned into a burp.

“Good work, Mr. Bravo.”, you cooed, kneeling beside him as you gently cupped and palmed his belly, feeling the light layer of fat stretched thin over the immense amount of food jammed in it. “Did so well for me.”

He leaned back, eyes glazed and mouth open, panting. He gazed down at you and a small smile tugged at the left side of his mouth.

“Get on... get on the fucking table.”, he grunted as he sat up.

You thought about defying him, making him work harder for you, but before you could voice it, he, with great effort, pulled himself up and stood to his full height above you. His hand cupped your jaw and pulled, telling you to stand up, and as you did, he turned you so your back faced the table.

“I cleaned my plate, Cookie.”, his tone was gentle yet dark and he never broke eye contact with you. “I deserve a treat, right?... my dessert... right?”

You realized this situation was not in any way shape or form in your hands. Dieter, despite him wanting you to egg him on, encourage him to eat, was seizing back control, taking what he wanted, what he felt he deserved. You nodded dumbly at him, eyes wide as your breathing shuttered.

He nodded back, like he would have if he were scolding a child.

“So, you’re gonna get on the table, right, Cookie?”

He backed you against it, his belly being the last bit of force to shove you backwards. Once you were on the table, he gave you a dark, lupine grin as he grabbed your hips and shoved you further up and leaned down between your legs. He shoved your shirt up and pressed wet, sloppy kisses on your exposed middle, humming in delight. His hands moved to your thighs and pushed your skirt up to the waist, then he pulled your underwear down and moving to get them off you before he pulled them to his nose, took a deep breath, and tossed them across the dining room.

His eyes zeroed in on your core as he dipped his index and middle finger int your folds, smiling.

“So, fucking wet, Cookie... you get off on it, don’t you... this why you’re a chef, baby?... making people fat and round on your food gets you worked up?”

You whined and writhed on the table in response, and he let out a low chuckle, circling his middle finger around your throbbing clit.

“Come on, Cookie... tell me how much you like it... tell me what goes through that fucking beautiful head of yours when you see me get bigger... fill out... pant and moan as I try to swallow down every bite you put in front of me...”

He replaced his middle finger with his thumb and pumped two fingers into your cunt, beginning an agonizingly slow pace. You whined, hearing the sloppy wet noises he was pulling out of your sopping core.

“You like that, huh?... stuffing me stupid, then leaving me each night with a raging boner... leaving me to fuck my hand or anything else I can fit my dick in... but it’s getting harder, Cookie... this gut is getting in the way of everything...”

He watched you as your legs shook. He could feel your walls flutter, and he smiled, knowing he had you right where he wanted.

“Making it so hard... but you want that, don’t you?... want me to need you... want you to feed me... want you to fuck me...”

He began to pump harder, and you cried out arching your back. He was working up a sweat, between working you over and his belly trying to digest the ridiculous amount of food he had in it. Dieter pulled his fingers from your core and sat down in the chair, gripped your thighs and dove in. He sucked your clit hard, and you screeched out, hands going into his messy curls. He shoved his tongue into your weeping, twitching hole and his nose pressed your clit perfectly, sending you screaming into your orgasm, and he happily lapped at your spend.

He worked you over as you started to come down, but he didn’t stop. His mouth moved back to your swollen and sensitive nub, and he pushed the two fingers back into you repeatedly. He wasn’t letting you go now that he had you, and he hummed in response to every whine, cry, and moan that left your mouth.

“Mr... Mr. Bravo...Dieter!... Please... I-I can’t!...”, you cried out, your body writhing and shaking.

He shook his head vigorously between your legs, grunting ‘uh-uh’ back to you and continuing his assault on your quivering cunt.

The noise his work pulled out of you as you came again was deep and animalistic, and he gave your clit one last, hard suck before he pulled back and stood up. In one swift movement, he pulled his boxer shorts down and pumped his cock, then pushed it into you, letting out a long, low moan as he did. He gripped your hips, and you wrapped your legs around him as best you could.

Goddamnit, he was big. Your eyes rolled into the back of yoiur head as he seated himself in you deep.

“Move ... please move, Dieter... fuck... so big... have to move... need you to... ”, you whined, tilting your hips to encourage him.

He started to set his pace, each pump pushing a squeak or moan out of you.

“Jesus titty fucking Christ... yeah, Cookie... soft as shit pussy sucking me right in... fuck you for holding out on me... fuck you, Cookie, for carrying around this tight little pussy and not telling me...”

The sound of your wet cunt being impaled repeatedly by Dieter’s thick cock was obscene, but the filth coming from his mouth was even more so.

“Lucky little bitch… getting to stuff me… feed me… make me fat…”, he grunted through gritted teeth as he pounded into you. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good… you like being fucked by a fat guy, Cookie?... you did this, baby… you did this to me… the fucking envy of every god damned kinky fuck out there… yeah, you are a fucking lucky bitch…”

“Fuck you, Dieter… fuck you and your big fucking cock… and your fucking ap-appetite!... you eat so good, too… fuck… oh fuck…yes… just like that… yes… uhhhgod… yes, Dieter… keep going…”

Your tight walls fluttered and clenched on his cock, and he groaned and grunted.

“Yeah , so close, baby… oh fuck… come on my dick, Cookie… be a good little bitch and fucking come on my dick… wanna feel you cream on me… then I’m gonna – Fuck!... then I’m gonna fill this pussy… it’s fucking mine… come on… lemme have it… lemme have it, Cookie baby…”

The white-hot bolt of energy traveled down your spine and exploded in your core, sending you screaming and arching your back off the table. Dieter held you firm as he pounded you through your orgasm.

“That’s fucking right!... yeah, baby… yeah… fuck… fuck fuck fuck fuck… Cookie… gonna come in you-your pussy… you’re mine… you’re fucking mine… yeah… yeah… yeah!”

With a final grunt, his hips pushed hard into you as he came hard. His hand moved from your hip and came down beside your face as he panted, his forehead resting on your chin.

Both of you were quiet, minus the sounds of your heavy breathing filling the air.

“Fuck you and your fucking pussy… god damnit, Cookie…”, he breathed, and you smiled.

“Fuck you and your monster cock, Bravo.”, you huffed back with a laugh.

Silence filled the room again until Dieter slipped his softening cock from you, and you let out a small whine. He smiled and chuckled.

“Don’t leave… come upstairs.”, he said quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to your collar bone.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with his big, pleadling brown ones looking up at you.

“Are you a post-coital snuggler, Mr. Bravo?”, you asked teasingly, smiling.

“Yeah… yeah, I am…” He looked down and grinned bashfully, nodding.

He brought his gaze back up at you, a soft and warm look on his face. He leaned in close, lips almost touching as his bely pressed you into the table.

“Yeah… plus I wanna see your tits and be comfortable in bed.”

--------<3---------

thank you @toxicanonymity for the moodboard!

TAG LIST:

@theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd @southernbe @starkeydaviss

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #you ask beefro answers #you ask beefro answers #beefro's bistro #chubby!dieter bravo #chubby dieter #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x female reader #weight gain fiction #beefro is thankful #🥩#👌🥩💜

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beefrobeefcal · 6 months

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Dark!Frankie Saga: IV

Chapter Four: Going Out in Style

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Boston. The Frontiersmen is a crime syndicate that deals in drugs, arms, and anything else they can to keep themselves on top. Since the original ring leader, Tom, was allegedly taken out by a rival gang, it's now run by Big Fish, with Pope second in command. Ironhead runs the numbers and Benny is the muscle. Your family member put you down as collateral when they needed credit to score more smack. Problem is, they can't pay it back, and Big Fish & the Frontiersmen always get their payment...

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Chapter Word Count: 4,350

Content Warning: SMUT (YES WE'RE HERE!), references to SA, almost SA, violence, threats of violence, crime, weight talk, eating, belly admiration, cooking, fingering, blow job

Author's Notes:

A day late, but we're here!

Once again, the biggest, juiciest, wettest thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for being the Beta Fish for Big Fish (get it? Beta'ing the story about Big Fi-... okay, you got it). Thank you, Nevy! 💜🥩💜

And this is not the Chubby!Frankie we know and love in the Catfish & the Mouse universe; he's dark, mean, and hungry. I'll be updating this each week (Monday/Tuesday) until you lose interest or I finish it - let's see what happens first! 👌

Beefro’s Master List | Previous Chapter

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It had been over a week since you last saw Frankie, when he shoved you into your room after eating the entire tray of shepherd’s pie. In that time, you’d also had no run ins with Pope or any of the other frontiersmen beyond Will taking you to and from the office and Benny taking Will’s place when he wasn’t able to be there.

Today had been different. You were up and ready, waiting for Will to arrive. When he didn’t, you popped your head out of your room into the quiet hallway. Hesitating for a moment, you finally walked down the corridor and opened the door, peaking into the lounge; it was empty, too.

You’d been waiting and were hungry. Normally, Will would have you stop in the kitchen for a quick breakfast on your way to the office, but being that he was over an hour late, you wondered what the harm in getting your own breakfast would be. Quietly and quickly stepping across the room and into the kitchen, you made quick work of the instant oatmeal and a banana before scurrying back to your room to eat.

Another hour passes as you wait for Will. You’d now gotten an old Kindle and a few books from Benny, and despite the contents of the e-reader being nowhere near what you would normally read, you were thankful for it especially this morning. You sat up in bed, legs stretched out with one dangling off the side.

It was almost noon when Will did arrive. He seemed off, like something had spooked him, and his eyes didn’t stay on the same spot for more than a second, wildly looking everywhere after he barged into your room, breathing heavily.

He looked you, wide eyed, trying to steady his breathing. He looked over your desk, seeing the evidence of your breakfast and nodded.

“Good… yeah… Got breakfast… good.”, he breathed out, nodding.

Will’s thoughts were overrun with trying to grapple with what he’d discovered and how he was going to keep Frankie - his boss, his friend – safe. Why he came to you while his mind raced through every scenario and how to avoid terrible outcomes, he didn’t know.

You, on the other hand, didn’t know if he was high, coming down off something, or what the problem was, but you nodded back at him, pulling your legs towards you out of caution.

Will’s eyes darted back to you, his brows twitching between a frown and concern, then he went unnervingly still, his eyes boring into you, like he’d been trying to solve a problem and then solution had struck him. A eureka moment had never looked so sinister.

“You… you like Fish – Mr. Morales, right, honey?”, he said in a staggered voice, taking a step closer to you, nodding with a grin, like he was telling you what your answer should be. “You… you want him to keep protecting you, right?”

Eyes trained on him, you nodded, willing the bed to allow you to sink further into it and the wall behind to get away from Will closing in on you.

“Yeah?... yeah, you do… yeah…”, he breathes with a wide, nervous grin. He ran his hand through his hair, looking at the ceiling for a beat. “You gotta do something for me, honey… something for Mr. Morales.”

Will’s breathing was almost labored, like he was on the verge of a breakdown, and he was trying to bring himself back from the edge. He nodded at you as he pulled out the chair at your desk and sat down. You could see the sweat on his brow, the beads dripping down his neck. He must be high. You thought to yourself.

He rubbed his palms on his jeans and nodded again, breathing out okay, okay, okay to himself. You watched, not able to react outwardly, not sure how he would react to anything you did.

“Honey… you gotta listen to me… he… uh, Mr. Morales wants… he told me to tell you… he needs you… to… to be… useful…”

Your eyes went wide, and you shook your head, and Will stood up, coming towards you. He leaned over you, gripping your knees, and he nodded.

“Yes… yes… honey, please… Mr. Morales… he needs you to… to make the first move… this is… what he likes… please… you need to…”

Will’s eyes were pleading as he nodded at you.

“No… please no… I can’t!”, you hissed back at him, desperation making you shake.

His brows furrowed and then frowned, his mouth tightened, and his cold, blue eyes glared into yours. The grip he had on your knees grew firmer.

“You’ll fuckin’ do it… he’ll fuckin’ throw you to Pope. You think he’ll keep you off limits if you don’t fuck him? You gotta be useful for him to keep you ‘round!”

A terrified whimper sticks in your throat, and your chin quivers.

“I’m on your side… I know what he likes. You’ll… you’ll be fine. I just wanna help you.” Will’s face relaxed as he spoke, his tone, however, remained tense. “You do this? He’ll treat you good… new sheets… new books... might get to leave the compound more often… better protection. Just gotta… gotta make yourself more useful, honey.”

“I am useful!”, you plead, trying to pull away from him. “i… I-I do the books w-with you and-and I cooked for him… I fed him… I did what I was told!”

Will scowled at you and shook his head.

“Honey… Frankie doesn’t eat… he fuckin’ devours… and the only way you’re gonna survive is if you let him devour you.” He growls lowly, leaning his face closer to yours.

You didn’t have a choice. You didn’t have a choice but to comply if you wanted to make it out of this. You had no idea what had come over Will to put you in this position, but you knew this was not an argument he was going to lose. You searched his face one last time for any hint of an out, and when nothing was found, you nodded.

“Good girl.”

*****

You found yourself at the door to Frankie’s office. You were nervous. You’d told yourself you shouldn’t be but given how terrifyingly Will had behaved before giving you a crash course on how you needed to behave for Frankie and how you could hear Frankie berating someone behind the door, your knees felt weak.

“You fuckin’ pull that shit again! Fuckin’ try me!”, you heard him yell. “Now get the fuck out of my sight, you shit weasel!”

With that, the door to the office flew open and you were nearly bowled over by one of the lower rung men as he ran out of the office. You moved out of the way just in time, but not before Pope saw you from his position beside the desk Frankie hulked behinds menacingly.

“Hey Honey.”, he said in a horribly smooth voice. “Fish, we got company.”

Frankie was leaning over the desk, hands planted on the wood, and he looked up at you. The harsh, tight frown he held on his face softened, and he nodded his head to grant you entrance. You stepped in, remembering the lesson your learned about hesitating at the end of your last interaction, moving towards Frankie, and standing in front of the desk.

You held your hands in front of you, nervously fidgeting them. Before coming to the office, Will had picked out a dress for you to wear. He’d ripped through your clothing, almost deranged, until he’s come to the one you now had on; it was form fitting and short. You’d always worn it with tights or leggings, but Will had sent you out bare legged and vulnerable.

Frankie looked you over, and he huffed a small, cold laugh as a grin tugged on one side of his mouth.

“What is it, baby? What do you need?”, he asked in a much gentler tone than you expected.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before a word could come out, Pope sided up next to you, one hand coming to fix an errant hair and the other’s fingers gently skimming your side.

“I know what you need, Honey...” His breath was hot on your jaw and neck as he spoke lowly.

You turned your head, pulling your body away from his touch and he chuckled.

“Hey, fucker!”, Frankie’s voice boomed, making you jump. You turned your eyes up at him and they were zeroed in on you.

“Sorry, Fish... my bad.”, Pope chuckled with a devilish grin, holding his hands up as he took a step back from you. Frankie could see how uncomfortable you were and motioned you to come to him with his fingers and you moved to the other side of the desk, taking care that your dress didn’t ride up with each step.

He turned to you, resting his hand on the desk and the other on his hip. His face softened again as he licked his bottom lip.

“What’dya need, Honey?”, he said softly.

You could feel Pope’s eyes on you, and it made your skin crawl.

“Come on, honey... boss doesn’t have all day...”, Pope sneered.

“Shut the fuck up, Pope.”, Frankie barked, pointing at the smaller man. He turned his attention back to you, placing the hand he’d just pointed so aggressively at Pope with gently on your shoulder and lowered his voice, “Come on, baby... tell me what’s going on.”

“Will sent me to ask if you... if you wanted dinner, Mr. Morales.” You felt your cheeks flush as you heard yourself speak in that ridiculously meek voice as Frankie gave you a soft grin.

Pope let out a laugh from behind you, and snickered, “Fuckin’ Will...”

Frankie glowered at Pope, then turned back to you, with a low voice, and he gently moved his hand to your neck, his thumb softly touching your jaw. “What’re you gonna make me, baby?”

“I make... I make a pretty good lasagna. Do you like lasagna, Mr. Morales?”

Pope let out a loud bark of a laugh, standing closer to the desk and sitting on it sideways, forcing himself to be a part of this conversation. “I like lasagna, too, honey... We all do.”

Frankie’s face turned back to Pope, and he barked one word: “OUT.”

Pope’s smile fell and he scowled at you, but you wouldn’t meet his gaze. He looked up at Frankie, and when he was met with his cold stare, he raised his brows, got off the desk and nodded. He turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door.

Frankie watched him leave and took a deep breath before returning his attention to you. He smiled and spoke to you like he would a child.

“You go make that lasagna and you bring it here when it’s done. Okay, baby?”

“Yes, Mr. Morales.”

“Good girl.”, he smiled, giving your neck an affectionate squeeze before releasing you.

You quickly turned, not wanting to hesitate, and walked towards the door.

“I like your dress, Honey.”, he called out to you with a sly grin, and you turned back to him with a shy smile, giving him a small curtsey, which highlighted how short this dress really was on you.

“Thank you, Mr. Morales.”

*****

“Benny?”, you called out from the kitchen. After what seemed like hours, you were finally ready to put the lasagna in the oven.

Benny walked in and watched as you carefully placed the casserole dish on the rack and closed the oven door. He’d asked earlier about the last time you’d cooked for Frankie and how it went, and after prying the details out of you, he felt uneasy about the whole thing. He liked you, thought you were sweet and cute. He knew you were off limits, not that he wanted to touch you, but he felt like he needed to step in and be that protector, that older brother you deserved.

“You’re gonna take this to his office... and what? Feed him?”, he asked, quietly, not wanting to think about what Frankie had planned for you. He was his friend, but you deserved better.

“I don’t know, Benny.”, you sighed with a shrug. “I just have to, I don’t know... I have to be useful.”

You didn’t mention to him about Will, knowing he had a temper and not wanting Frankie to find out that Benny lost his shit on his brother because of something you said.

Benny said nothing in response; he just shook his head and huffed.

“I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.”, you smiled warmly at him.

Benny smiled back at you, but it didn't reach his eyes. Something about the way he looked at you made you question the gentleness of Frankie’s touch in his office, the soft voice he used for you. Yeah, Will said that this was how you could be useful, but Frankie wouldn’t do anything like that to you,would he?He just liked to have someone pretty bring him food and watch him eat, which if you were being honest with yourself, you were the perfect candidate for the job.

He likes pretty things. Pretty cars, pretty views, pretty profits, pretty girls, Honey. Will’s words rang through your skull as your eyes searched Benny’s for more information.

But what if Frankie wanted to use you like that? You had expected as much before, going so far as to mentally prepare yourself for him to fuck you the last time you’d been left alone in the very kitchen you stood in.

Why was Benny looking at you like that? Like he felt... guilt? Oh god...

He watched your face fall, and he cleared this throat, looking away.

“Come on, Honey... can’t keep the big guy waitin’.”

*****

Benny walked along side you in the hallways, helping you bring the food along with the accompanying dishes and cutlery to Frankie’s office. As you approached the door, Benny quickly stepped in front of you. He looked down at you, the nervousness overtaking his features and voice.

“Nothin’ you don’t want, Honey. Don’t let’im do nothin’ you don’t want, okay?”

You nodded in return, a sour feeling blooming in your gut. He nodded back and took a deep breath, then pushed open the office door.

“He’s not here.”, Benny said with a slight hint of relief in his voice. “I’ll help you bring this back to the kitchen.”

“No… just put to down. He said for me to bring it to him here.” You kept your eyes lowered as you placed the plate, knife, fork and a beer where he sat at his desk. Benny put the casserole dish down on one of the side tables, then turned and looked at you.

As he was about to speak, the office door opened, and Frankie walked in, followed by Will. You froze as you saw him trail in after Frankie. He made quick eye contact with you before shifting his attention to Benny.

“We’re gonna head out to collect some payments, Benny. Come on.”, Will ordered, motioning him to follow. He waited at the door as Benny walked past you, giving you one last look, before moving towards the exit. Will gave you a quick glance then closed the door behind him and Benny, leaving you alone with Frankie.

Frankie watched you and Benny exchange looks before the younger man left with Will, and he felt a pang of jealousy. You trusted him, and, from what he’d been told and what he had seen, you weren’t afraid of him. Benny had even said you were funny and smart. Not that Frankie doubted that, but he’d never seen that side of you. He had a fleeting need; he wanted that for himself, feeling he was owed that given that he hadn’t tossed you to one of the other guys, especially Pope. He wanted you in your entirety. He couldn’t deny how hot it was that you were so much smaller than he was, especially when he towered over you after he ate. But was that really him or was that the lifestyle and power he had acquired now that he led the Frontiersmen? No one said no to him or questioned what he said, but you, with your openness to Benny countering your nervousness towards him, had destabilized this secure notion that had carried him the last five years. He knew he had to tread lightly with you to get what he wanted.

Before you heard Frankie, you felt him move behind you; his hand resting softly on your upper back between your shoulder blades. He stepped closer to you, gently moving his hand down your back and around your waist to turn you around to him.

“Smells really fucking good, baby.”, he groaned. You could hear the smile in his voice and sure enough, it was confirmed as you turned to face him. Looking up into his face, you could see his soft brown eyes looking down at you warmly.

“Thank you, Mr. Morales.”

You were getting lost in his eyes, hypnotized by his gaze as he backed you against the desk. When your backside hit the mahogany, he pressed himself against you and cupped his large hand against the back of your neck, his thumb, as he did earlier, touched your jaw lightly.

“Did so good for me today, Honey. You’re gonna plate some of that delicious smelling food up for me and you and I are gonna get to know each some more, okay?”

You nodded in return, and he gave you a stern look. “Gotta use that pretty mouth and talk to me, baby.”

“Y – yes, Mr. Morales.”, you stumbled.

He smiled and stepped back, releasing you to get to work. He sat heavily in his office chair. You could tell he’d eaten already today, based on the way his belt and pants pulled a little tighter across his waist and how his undershirt that he wore under the open Hawaiian shirt was already looking a little snug.

As soon as you’d plated up his food and places it in front of him, he tugged you by the waist to sit on one of his thighs, then pulled his chair closer to the desk. He picked up his fork and took a bite of the lasagna, and you watched him intently.

After he swallowed, he smiled and huffed a laugh as he shook his head and said before taking another bite, “You’re gonna wreck me for any other cook, baby. Tell me how you made it.”

*****

You’d only stayed on his lap for the first helping, moving to sitting on the desk next to his beer with your knees crossed for the remainder of his meal. His hand would occasionally come up and rest on your calf or thigh before he would grab his beer for a drink.

He asked for more information about you, your home life, your up bringing, anything he could think of that Benny would have asked and you slowly seemed to be less nervous with him.

By the time he’d finished the whole dish, Frankie was sitting back in his chair, thighs wide and belly protruding. He’d finally deemed you warmed up enough for him and he turned the questioning over to you.

“Alright baby… enough of you hogging the spotlight.”, he grunted with a smile, shifting his belt and pants lower to allow more room for his stomach. “You got any questions for me?”

You thought for a moment about what Will had said. Frankie liked food and he liked pretty things.

“Come on, honey… you gotta have some questions rattling around in that pretty head of yours.”, he said lowly as you watched his heavy middle move up and down with each breath. You smiled shyly, enjoying his use of the word pretty when he spoke to you; did it mean he liked you?

“Well, I was wondering, Mr. Morales…”, you spoke sweetly as you played with the hem of your skirt and lifted it slightly, seeing his eyes shirt to watch your fingers. “What’s your favourite dessert?”

A low grumble came from his chest as his eyes darkened, and he grinned.

“I like a lot of things, baby.”, he growled, his hand moving up your thigh, higher than the hem of your dress, and he gripped it, forcing your legs to become uncrossed.

“I like cake… pie… ice cream… pastries, chocolate, macarons, not picky about dessert, baby. But you know what my favourite is?”

You stared at him, eyes wide and your core trembling, and you shook your head. He moved both his hands in front of him on the desk to heave himself out of the chair and he stood between your parted legs. His face came close enough that his nose touched yours and he ghosted his mouth over your lips.

“Sweet… soft… warm… pussy.”

He didn’t kiss you but the hand that wasn’t bracing him above you pushed between your legs and moved your panties to the side. Frankie groaned when he felt how wet you were, and a self-satisfied smirk grew on his face as you whimpered.

He traced his middle finger through your folds, bringing your slick up to your clit as he circled it. Every small whine, pant or whimper was met with him nodding and saying “yeah” or “uh-huh, baby” under his breath in response.

“You want more, pretty baby?”, he cooed, nuzzling his nose against yours. The gentle act had you almost come right there, but your made your self nod.

“Yeah-yes, please… please, Mr. Morales!”, you whined breathily.

He removed his hand and gripped your panties, pulling them down and off you, before he pushed you down and shoved your skirt up. He pushed one of his thick fingers into you and pumped in and out while the other hand pushed down his belt and jeans to give his belly further room before it moved to hold your hip.

“Jesus, you’re pretty… but you look so much prettier like this, baby… fuck, you needed this, huh?... too fucking tight for your own good.”

“Please… please more… more, Mr. Morales!”, you whined.

He added another finger and pushed in deeper with each pump, making the wet, squelching noises obscener.

“So fucking wet… just for me, right?”, he said darkly before growling, “No one else touches you, right?”

“No… no one else… only you, Mr. Morales.”

“That’s fucking right… just me… you’re mine…”, he grunted, adding a third finger harshly.

You yelped out, trying to move away but his hand on your hip held you firmly in place and his face was dark with his brows crossed and his mouth twisted in a frown.

From out in the hallway, Pope could hear sounds. It only took a minute of his ear up against the wall to figure out what Frankie was doing to you. He grinned devilishly and hurried down to the rec room to tell Benny. He couldn’t wait to see that blond shit’s face when he told him that Frankie was finger fucking you over his desk.

“You’ll fucking take what I give you, baby… be a good girl…”, he growled, finally moving him thumb to rub circles around your clit, bringing you some relief. “That’s it… I’ll make it feel so good for you, but you gotta behave… there you go… that’s it… feels good now, baby?”

“God!... fuck, yes, Frankie!”, you cried out, not even realizing what you’d said until his fingers were ripped out of you, and he grabbed your jaw with his slicked up hand.

“You don’t call me that.”, he snarled, his lip curling in a menacing sneer. “Don’t you ever fucking call me that! You only get that privilege if I fuck you in my fucking bed!”

You wanted to beg his forgiveness, explain it was a mistake, tell him he didn’t have to finish you off, but your voice was caught in the lump in your throat. Your eyes were starting to tear up and you chided yourself at being so sensitive.

He gripped your face tighter, and barked, “Do you understand?!”

You swallowed hard and nodded, and he shoves your face away from his, slumping into the office chair.

“Get the fuck out of here.”, he snarled as he wiped his fingers on his napkin.

You trembled looking at him, knowing if you left, you were back at the mercy of his temper. You had to prove you belonged here with him, that you were useful to him.

You slid off the desk and got on your knees, crawling towards him. Once between his open legs, you placed your hands on his thighs and lightly rubbed them.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?”, he growled in a warning tone.

“Apologizing, Mr. Morales.”, you said softly, slowly moving your hands to his belt buckle, giving him ample time to stop you. But he didn’t.

With a little more effort due to his belly heavily pushing against it, you unbuckled and opened his belt and jeans. Your eyes stayed on his as he lifted his hips a bit and you pulled his jeans down, and then you saw the impressive tent in his boxer shorts, topped with a wet patch from precum.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Morales.”, you cooed, reaching up and gently tugging on his covered erection.

“Bet you are, baby…”, he grunted and sucked in a breath. “Go on… show me how sorry you are.”

You pulled the fabric down and released his cock, slapping up against his belly, and he hissed as the cool air hit it.

Frankie figured he’s get a hand job out of you and call it a night, but when you gripped his cock and opened your mouth and swirled your tongue around the tip, his jaw slacked and his eyes widened.

“Fuck… pretty baby…”

You gave the tip a few kitten licks and said before taking his length down your throat:

“I’m sorry, Mr. Morales.”

--------<3---------

TAGLIST:

@theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd @toxicanonymity @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #frankie morales #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #chubby frankie rights !!!!!#dark!frankie still chubby though #dark!frankie au #dark!frankie morales #dark!triple frontier #on the waterfront #otwf #beefro's bistro #🥩

94 notes · View notes

beefrobeefcal · 1 month

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#beefro's bistro #thot tank #🥩#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #beefro is trash for fat pedro

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beefrobeefcal · 6 months

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Dark!Frankie Saga: V

Chapter Five: Skin and Bones

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Chapter Word Count: 3,164

Content Warning: no smut this chapter :(, violence, threats of violence, crime, snark, baking, talk of character death

Author's Notes:

oooooo, the plot thickens... like out Big Fish's waist line...

The biggest, juiciest, wettest thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for being the Beta Fish for Big Fish (get it? Beta'ing the story about Big Fi-... okay, you got it). Thank you, Nevy! 💜🥩💜

On the Waterfront Masterlist | Previous Chapter

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Pope walked quickly down the hallway, an evil grin slashed across his face. He couldn’t wait to tell Benny what he’d heard, needing to see that blond shit’s face crumble as he tells him that Frankie had taken you as his fully.

The doors to the rec room flew open and Pope sauntered in. As he approached the table where Will and Benny sat, he cleared this throat and stood between them, keeping his glare and smug grin aimed at Benny.

“Never believe what I just heard, Benny...”, he said in a mocking, singsong tone.

Will looked up, already having a thought as to where this was going. His eyes darted to his brother then quickly back to Pope. He put his pen down and adjusted himself in his seat, ready to jump into action, to keep Benny on lock.

“What?”, Benny asked with a partial mouthful, finally looking up from his bowl of Lucky Charms.

“Your girl.”, Pope responded in a harsh, hissing voice as he leaned in and grinned.

Benny looked at him, confusion suddenly melting into frustration.

“The fuck you talkin’ ‘bout, Pope!”, he yelled, throwing his spoon into his half-finished bowl.

“Pope...”, Will warned, his eyes shifting to glare at him.

“Yeah... heard her whining, whimpering... begging for Fish... begging him not to stop.”

Benny stood up, standing over Pope with his fists clenched. “Fuck you.”, he growled.

Wil stood up, standing behind Benny, his hand on his shoulder.

“Cool off, Ben... let it go...”

Pope nodded, fueled by the younger man’s rage. “Yeah... she moaned, man... whined like a whore... and he must’a done something brutal because I heard he yelp like a beaten dog... then she begged for more...”

Before Will could react, Benny grabbed Pope by his jacket and shoved him hard against the wall. The entire room went silent, save for the sounds of heaving breathing filled with rage from Benny.

“Shut your fucking mouth!”

“I could hear her eyes rolling into the back of her head, Benny... I could hear her toes curl... I could hear that sweet, wet cunt of hers being pounded by Fish...”

“FUCK YOU!”, Benny roared, slamming Pope into the wall harder.

Will tried putting himself between the men, trying to get Benny to calm down.

“Ben! Come on! He's just trying to get under your skin, bud!”

“Nah... Fish is fucking with your girl, Ben...”

“Shut the fuck up, Santiago!”, Will barked, desperately trying to pull Benny off him.

“She’s better than that!”, Benny screamed in Pope’s face.

*****

You woke up in your bed, your knees hurting, and you smiled. As you started to come to further, other parts of you felt tender as well; your jaw, your cunt, your scalp, your throat...

The evening’s events replayed in your head as you slowly moved to the bathroom to take a shower.

The sound of him grunting as he fucked your throat.

The feeling of his large hands holding you in place, harshly gripping your hair.

The almost-too-sweet sounds he made as he came, your name falling out of his mouth in a breathy whimper.

The taste of his come, shooting in your mouth, dripping down your chin.

The look in his eye as you sat back on your heels and wiped your mouth.

That look alone could have made you come and fall for him right there; you were not going to escape now. His big, warm, brown eyes, looking down at you, wide and begging. It was a side of him you weren’t sure actually existed, but you saw proof last night that he was, deep down, a sweet man who needed softness. And softness you could be.

To keep yourself safe and secure...right? That’s all this was, right?

As you stood under the steaming hot water, you replayed the night’s events, and knew that you were only fooling yourself. Frankie had you by the throat, and you would have done what you did last night even without Will’s instructions.

The only thing that gave you pause was Benny. The look he gave you as he left the office last night, the remorse painted on his face followed by the disappointment.

As you got out of the shower and dried off, you tried to push any thoughts of Benny away. You got dressed, laid on the bed, waited for Will, and read your kindle.

*****

Will didn’t come.

You waited over an hour and decided to grab your breakfast. Upon leaving your room and getting into the hallway, you could hear talking in the lounge. Frankie’s voice was clear, and the others were...

It was Will and Benny.

It sounded like a tense discussion, and you approached the door so you could hear better.

“A tense discussion doesn’t require five men to pull you off Pope, Benny.”

“Pope just got’im under the skin... s’all it was, Fish.”

“Jesus fuckin’ christ... You know he’s an asshole, Ben! Why’dya let him get you so fuckin’ mad?”

You could hear it was Benny talking, but he was keeping his voice low; you couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“Just fuckin’ ignore him! What the fuck did he say to get you so mad?”

“Fish, it doesn’t matter... I’ll keep him in line.”

“That what you want? Big brother holding your fuckin’ leash?”

Again, Benny’s voice only made sounds not words with how quietly he spoke.

“Don’t fuckin’ give me that! Grow the fuck up and get your fuckin’ mood in check!”

Benny’s voice came through loud and clear in response, dripping with venom.

“Sure thing, Mr. Morales.”

Your eyes opened wide, and you accidentally leaned on the door forcing it open. All three men looked up at you: Frankie’s scowl turned soft with a slight smile as he sat in one of the worn armchairs, Will’s face remained stoic as he stood next to him, but Benny’s... he looked mad. His face didn’t shift to a lighter look like it normally did when he saw you – it seemed to get angrier.

“Morning, baby girl.”, Frankie’s voice came out softer than either Will or Benny expected, Will especially turning to him and giving him a look. He stood up and walked towards you, pulling you to his side and pressing a kiss to your head.

He turned to Will and Benny, his voice returning to the timber they were used to. “She’s not working today... Benny, you’re going food shopping. Will, get him some money.”

Will nodded and Benny’s face pulled into a furious frown as he looked at the floor.

“And you.”, he said sternly. “You be a good girl and get Benny a grocery list together... I got a surprise for you later.”, Frankie mumbled softly into your hair as he pressed another kiss onto you.

His hand traveled down to your ass cheek and squeezed before he headed out the door, presumably to his office.

*****

Benny was actively ignoring and punishing you with his refusal to speak to you, let alone even look at you, from the moment Frankie left the room. Will had said he would have money for you once you got your grocery list together and left you alone with him, and that was the last time you’d felt the weight of his eyes, burrowing deeply into you and filled with judgement, anger, and disappointment.

The time you’d spent in the kitchen, scanning the cupboards to figure out what you needed was silent and awkward. He refused to meet your eyes and huffed and sighed as you continued to build the list. You handed the paper to him, and he ripped it out of your hand, giving you one final glare before he left the kitchen, aggressively stalking out of the room.

Benny grabbed the money from Will, telling him to ‘Save it!’ when Will tried to reason with his brother. The drive over, his knuckles were white from how hard he gripped the steering wheel, and his jaw was starting to ache from clenching his jaw. Once Benny had parked the car, his mind played through his anger at you. He’d told you that you didn’t have to, but you did it anyway. In his fury, he wouldn’t allow himself to think that this might be something you felt you had to do despite him assuring you that you didn’t, or worse, something you actually wanted. To him, you were being stupid, careless. You’d just fallen into this situation, and you didn’t have to do what the other girls before you had done, because you were smarter, you were stronger, you were fiercer, and kinder and braver and everything else that made it so hard for Benny to swallow that you’d allowed yourself to be sucked into Frankie’s orbit. He didn’t want you for himself, of that much he was certain, but he did want something better for you. He didn’t want you to be Frankie’s latest whore.

As he got out of the car, and as if on cue to add more insult to injury, a text came through from Frankie, asking Benny to get some pink nail polish for you. Benny’s fists clenched and he groaned, scowling as he went into the store.

He walked up and down the aisles with a scowl so deep on his face, no one dared approach him, everyone just getting out of his way. After he’d grabbed the last item on the list, he remembered the final request from Frankie and walked to the health and beauty section of the store. Scanning the displays, he found a pink bottle of Sally Hensen polish, in a shade called I Pink I Can. Despite how agitated and infuriated with you he was, he thought this would be a nice colour for you. A wave of sadness washed over him, but it quickly gave way to the anger and fury he felt, not allowing himself to let you off the hook so easily. He tossed the polish into the cart and went to the check out.

While you were left alone waiting for Benny to return, you decided to not let your mind wander into dark waters. To keep your mind occupied you make a quick batch of oatmeal raisin cookies for the guys. You recalled a conversation you had with Benny, and he’d let you know they were his favourites. You thought that maybe this could be what would break down whatever it was that he had against you and get him to open up; maybe you could have a friend again.

The cookies were cooling on the counter when Benny walked in all but shoved the bags of groceries at you. He then got out of the room quickly and flopped hard in one of the armchairs in the lounge. You took your time putting the food away, not sure if further silent treatment was waiting for you or something else, but you weren’t keen on finding out just yet.

After putting away the first bag, you grabbed a plate and a few cookies and brought them out, placing it on the coffee table in front of Benny. You said nothing and returned to the kitchen. Benny just glanced at cookies and went back to fuming.

You hummed quietly to yourself to fill the void Benny’s silence created while you emptied the rest of the bags. You weren’t trying to cause any further issues, but it didn’t stop your sweet voice from burrowing under Benny’s skin and festering. He finally snapped when he caught the sight of you looking at the bottle of pink nail polish, grinning with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

“Just... fuckin’ stop!”, he barked out before sitting forward on the couch, his face in his hands.

You stopped and looked at him through the bar counter opening to the lounge, your breathing caught in your throat. You watched as he stood up and stomped towards the door, menacingly glaring at you, leaving you once again alone in the room. You swallowed hard and looked over at the untouched plate of cookies on the table, and the horrible feeling you’d felt your first day here creeping back into the base of your skull and flooding your system with dread.

*****

After showering and readying yourself for Frankie’s ‘surprise’, including painting your fingernails and toenails with the colour Benny had bought, you got dressed in a short sundress and jean jacket. You had no idea what Frankie had planned, but you knew whatever it was, Will’s clear directions on how to appease Frankie were going to be followed to a T.

Benny’s attitude was weighing heavily on you, and you needed to get out of your head; you needed to find Frankie to make you feel something other than whatever void Benny’s anger had left in you. Slipping quietly out of the barracks, you made your way to his office. Luckily for you, you didn’t run into anyone enroute to the office. As you approached the door, you listened for voices, but heard no one. You knocked before opening the door, expecting the room to be empty, but you were met with Will’s cold blue eyes looking at you. He stood in front of the big bay window behind Frankie’s desk, his arms crossed, his shoulders and head turned to you.

“I’m looking for Frankie.”, you spoke timidly. You had no idea if the anti-you attitude that Benny had adopted was contagious, and treading lightly was your best bet moving forward.

“Not here, Honey.”, he grumbled, turning back to the window. You paused, then decided to head back to your room, but as you started to slip back through the door, Will’s voice came up again, his back still to you.

“You know… Benny’s just bein’ sore ‘bout you foolin’ around with Fish. He’ll get over it.”

“I… um… yeah. Okay.” Your brows furrowed, but you took this as Will’s invitation to come into the office.

You closed the door gently behind you and stepped slowly to the front of the desk. You waited for Will to give you further instructions or tell you more about Benny, but he remained silent, looking out over the water, seemingly lost in thought about something.

You’d been in this room almost every day that you’d been here in this building, but you’d never allowed yourself to look over the shelves that lined the walls leaving from the door to the window. You took advantage of the time Will was seemingly allotting you and walked to the shelf that had photographs on it. There were funny staged images, and some candid, a few looked like landscape shots, a few were of fishing and camping trips. You recognized most of the faces, and one you could guess was Tom, but there was a man that you couldn’t quite place. Dark hair, unruly curls poking out from under a baseball cap. He was thin, gaunt almost, and he was in nearly every photograph. You looked closer, focusing on him, thinking there was something about his eyes that seemed so familiar.

Will’s voice pulled you from your concentration with a jump.

“That’s Fish.”

You turned around and he was right behind you, looking at the same photograph you were and Will’s eyes were heavy with what seemed like remorse. He reached over you and picked up what looked like a group shot, all five men standing in a row, all looking like they were trying not to smile at something behind the camera. Who you now recognized as Frankie was on the end and his face was all sharp angles, his clothes looked like they were hanging off him; this was a far cry from the man who had been slowly encroaching your mind at every waking moment. Less than half the man at least.

“Oh my god… it is!”, you gasped. You leaned in and looked at another picture, one where he and Benny were standing together, shirtless, on what looked to be the end of a dock. You could count his ribs even with the photograph being grainy.

“What happened?”, you asked quietly, your eyes roving over the other pictures on the shelves.

“Fish had a ragin’ coke habit. Couldn’t shake the shit. Went to fuckin’ rehabs all over the place, come home then get right back into it. Start all over again. And we knew each time he did.”, he sighed.

“Coke habit? Jesus…” You shook your head. “How… how did you know?”

“He’d come back from rehab, 20 lbs. heavier, then when he got down to skin and bones again… we knew.”, Will said quietly. “He never got mean on coke… I knew other fuckers who got real nasty on the shit, but not Fish. His tell was his weight.”

He put the picture back and looked at you with a smirk. “The Fish you know now is a result of him gettin’ off the coke and findin’ a new vice… one no one’s gonna step in and tell him no to.”

“Oh…”, you nod. “Why did he finally stop?... the coke I mean…”

“Tom got wacked, and Frontiersmen needed a leader… Pope said he wanted Fish in charge, said that this would keep him off the coke, and it did. Said he was the best choice because of how he was a problem solver… and fuck, is Fish not the best of us to find a solution to every problem. But he can be easily persuaded… that’s why I think Pope really wanted him in the boss’s seat. Jokes on him though… Fish is a hell of a leader and scarier than fuck if he needs to be.” Will huffed a laugh and walked back to the desk, sitting on the edge of it, his arms still crossed.

“He can sus just about anything out… like a fuckin’ sixth sense…”, Will continued but in a quieter voice, then lowered his head. “Not proud of the situation I got you in, but it’ll keep him occupied while I try and find a solution for him… it’s one problem he can’t be involved with.”

“Who killed Tom?” Your voice was clear and ripped through him like the shrill, crisp sound of shattering glass.

He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours, then quickly looked away. “Don’t know… we assume it was some rival group… that’s what Pope said anyways…Tom wasn’t no saint, but he sure as hell didn’t deserve what was done to him… I hope whoever did it knows they deserve to rot in hell.”

You looked at Will. The realization dawned on you that the problem he was trying to solve, the problem that sent him into your room filled with fear and terror, could very well be the same one that got Tom killed. You instantly felt your stomach drop as you watched a man who showed so little emotion be destroyed by the overwhelming love and dread he had for his friend.

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TAGLIST:

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #frankie morales #triple frontier #you ask beefro answers #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #chubby frankie rights !!!!!#on the waterfront #otwf #dark!frankie still chubby though #dark!frankie au #dark!frankie morales #🥩#i smell like beeeeeef #beefro's bistro

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beefrobeefcal · 4 months

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Tah-tah 2023!

I can be a sentimental beef sometimes, but I will try to keep that to a minimum for brevity’s sake.

When I joined this community as the Beefro you know, I was struck by how quickly people were willing to interact and engage - randomly appearing in my inbox and dm’s. Some of the people I’ve met on here have become such dear friends to me over the past six months that I consider them just as important as the ones I have face-to-face interactions with. I’ve never been apart of an online community in this way before and I’m thankful.

I'm thankful for not only the people I've met, but for Pedro bringing us together. And for the absolutory depraved smut he has inspired us to expel and devour. Seriously. I have never felt so... so... full of yearning for a fictional character, enough so to propel me into writing an AU about him in a Boston.

All jokes aside, though, I am even more thankful for the hard work you have put into the pieces of fiction that deserve far more recognition that this hellsite can muster. I have have laughed, cried, screamed, wailed, felt joy and sorrow, felt fulfilled and empty from the fics I have read this year, and I cannot wait to see what you have for 2024.

I know that for many, 2023 threw lemons the size of blue whales at you and I’m thankful that you’re here and still sharing with us! I’m grateful for your vulnerability and to see that we are not alone in our hurt. I think this year, I’ve learned that ‘Misery loves company’ is not about finding others to fester with; it’s about getting through with the support of your mutual strugglers. I love this take. And I love you.

Another lesson I have learned is to not be competitive. I have a fantastic core community here in the Bistro and #beefro-is-blessed. But that doesn’t stop the little nagging voice that says ‘you’ll never have that many followers’ or ‘you’re too niche for your fics to get any more interactions’ when I see the engagement other writers get. I’m learning to be ignorant to that voice because I write for me. And for you (if you want it. If not, I love you anyway). And everyone in this community deserves to be celebrated for their contributions and achievements, no matter how big or small.

I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, but you’ve never been anything but kind. This reformed emo loner never knew this could be a thing and I don’t take this for granted. My resolution for 2024 is to be more present and supportive of the community that reminded me how much I love storytelling. And also, to go to space…

Oh look at me going on… brevity’s sake indeed.

Beefro👌🥩💜

PS: A gigantic, huge, beautiful, smudgy, wet kiss to each of you. And a special thanks to my repeat offenders: @theywhowriteandknowthings @neverwheremoonchild @thehalflifeofloveisforever @toxicanonymity @xdaddysprincessxx @noxturnalpascal @gasolinerainbowpuddles @sheepdogchick3 @wintrwinchestr @deathsholywaterr @clawdee @pedroshotwifey @gwendibleywrites @thehandalorian @vabeachazn @fullldash @harriedandharassed @nerdieforpedro @romana-after-dark @umnitsa @rebel-held @yahtiwakitakos @pop-sugar102 @sp00kymulderr @covetyou @yorksgirl @pr0ximamidnight @blackmetalamazon @chute-etoiles @josephquinnswhore @ghoulettesinspace @suzdin @silkniche @bonezone44 @fhatbhabie @emilyjustemily @famoushoneybee @maryrhodalouandted @missredherring @iamasaddie @lost-in-relative-dimensions @quinnnfabrgay ... and many, many more! (if i missed, you, send me a dm and I'll atone for my sins)

#a message from beefro #happy new year 2024 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #beefro is blessed #beefro is trash for pedro #🥩#beefro's bistro #friendos of beefro

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beefrobeefcal · 6 months

Note

BB, I am on death's doorstep over this man's tummy in that visibly too-small tac vest. Look at it. LOOK AT THAT SQUISHY BELLY! 😭💀

So this got me thinking...what if Mouse comes across the tac vest one day while she and Frankie are in the middle of a decluttering weekend? She stashes it away for safekeeping with a mischievous smirk.

Later that night, after Frankie's had his fill of their favorite takeout, Mouse brings out the vest and asks him to try it on. "Please, Frankie Baby? I wanna see how it looks on you. 🥺"

Frankie looks reluctant...the vest was already on the snug side the last time he wore it in Colombia, and he's grown in more ways than one since that dark time. And Mouse? Well, Mouse KNOWS the vest isn't gonna fit. She's not even sure it's gonna close over his round belly...especially with all the indulging he did at dinner.

But sweet baby Frankie is not one to deny his Mouse anything. Right, BB??

Lovey - you know I got you!

HELL YEAH. YES. WE NEED TO SEE IT ON HIM. and we get out wish.

Smuttiest regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

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Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: Frankie Takes a Trip Down Memory Lane

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary: Mouse finds some old relics and Frankie puts on a show.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 3,722

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, weight talk, food talk, belly worship, bely rubs, size kink, unprotected p in the v sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy, kids!), v-fingering, dirty talk, the usual Frankie & Mouse shenanigans

Author's Notes: Thank you @thehalflifeofloveisforever - not only did you gift the amazing art of Frankie, you also stuck it out at the first beefro @ the Movies and listened to my unhinged thirsting for Frankie on screen. Thank you for being a Friendo and this one is for you!

And thanks to my lovely Beta Fish @neverwheremoonchild for doing what they do best 💜

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When you and Frankie moved in together, you’d rented a storage locker for all you stuff that didn’t quite fit in your first apartment. But even after moving into your house, neither of you really gave that storage locker much thought outside of grabbing the Christmas decorations each late fall and retiring them in January.

But you’d had enough of that monthly charge on your credit card getting a little higher over time and that was why you were now sitting on a box, sorting through your and Frankie’s separate histories. Frankie was at work, and you’d agreed to not dispose of his stuff – just to bring it home and let him deal with it - you’d managed to sift and sort through all of your boxes, filling up the back of the rented cube van. There was one thing left in the locker and it was a large, metal chest containing Frankie’s military gear.

He hadn’t hidden his past from you and had even shown you what he had in the chest when it was being stored. You opened it and pulled some of the clothing and gear out, smiling at how small it looked. The clothing and gear were from when Frankie was a much, much thinner man, easily less than half his current size. You then pulled an envelope out and opened it, revealing some pictures of Frankie with Santi, Will and Benny. Even though you knew it was him, it still didn’t feel real that the lanky, broad shouldered, baby face smiling in the photographs was now the big bellied, sweet, chubby Frankie that you loved so much.

A devious grin crossed your face as a thought entered your mind. The clothing and gear in the chest would have been bigger on you, but you were absolutely certain that Frankie would be hard pressed to even get the vest around his chest, let alone his belly…

*****

Frankie stood up from the table after devouring his dinner. His stomach was big and round, projecting out and side to side and he huffed as he stood to his full height with his back arched to accommodate the weight he’d packed into himself.

“You ate well…”, you cooed, patting his belly.

He’d been eating really well as of late, his tummy becoming more prominent. He also now needed bigger portions to get full, and you had been more than happy to oblige him. He’d told you last week that he’d had to size up his coveralls again, and when you asked him to bring home his old ones and show you, the sight of him standing before you with his empty belly and chubby love handles stopping the zipper from closing left you a whining mess, begging him to fuck you.

“Yeah… getting pretty big.”, he smiled back, slapping his belly. The dull thud noise it made from being so full was music to your ears. But it did give you pause.

He’d mentioned a few times how big he felt, how big he was getting, and you weren’t sure if this was still what he wanted. He never expressed frustration or discomfort, but there was an air of something in his comments.

“You still happy?”, you asked softly, your hand sliding down and rubbing his underbelly, feeling how heavy his tummy was. “Still happy with this belly?”

He looked at you, his hand finding yours, and nodded with a little bit of nervousness. “Yeah… think I’m where I wanna be… here… not any bigger though; it’s getting kinda hard working on big rigs when I’m just as… big.”, he chuckled at his last statement, then his voice went quiet. “Is that… okay?”

“Yeah, honey… totally fine.”, you smiled, standing on your tip toes and kissing him. “I love you and want you to be happy… and if that means this – “, you said giving his belly a squeeze. “- stays like this? I’m happy.”

He kissed you back sweetly and moved to the couch while you cleaned up after dinner.

*****

After the final pan was washed, dried and put away, you walked into the den to find Frankie laid back and snacking on some snack cakes that you didn’t even realize he’d grabbed enroute to the couch.

His eyes turned to you, and a bashful grin appeared on his face as he swallowed.

“Hey princess… just having a snack.”

You huffed a laugh and walked up to him, pressing a kiss to his forehead and rubbing his belly. Even as he was laid down, his tummy felt firm and full under a layer of softness, and it protruded up from his body.

He hummed in contentment as his hand interlaced his fingers with yours, pulling your hand to his mouth and kissing it.

He looked up at you and smiled. “I meant to ask: how’d you fare with the storage locker?“

“Oh, it’s done. I conquered that shit like a pro.” You gave him your best Rosie the Riveter pose.

“Hey! Good girl!” Frankie beamed up at you. “And my stuff?”

“All your stuff remained intact and it’s in the garage…”, you stated, then your voice dipped into a low, sultry tone as your fingers walked up his hefty tummy. “… except a few things I brought inside… for you to try… on.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raised and he lowered the footrest. He huffed as he sat up and his belly pushed his thighs open, and he leaned forward, hands on his knees.

“What you got for me, princess?”

“Just stay there… I’ll be right back.”, you chirped as you skipped down the hallway to your bedroom.

When you emerged back in the den, Frankie looked up and his jaw dropped. There you were, in the black bra and pantie lingerie set he’d picked up for your last birthday, your platform heeled combat boots and his tactical vest.

“Oh fuck…”, Frankie groaned, reaching under his belly and palming his crotch. “You know what you’re doing, princess?”

“You like it?”, you tried your hand a pin up pose.

He held his hand out to you. “Come here, princess.”

You grinned wryly at him and took a step back.

He shook his head, keeping firm eye contact, and he growled, “No… don’t you dare. You wanna dress like a soldier, princess, you take orders like one.”

You eyed him again, gauging if it would be worth it for you to make him chase you. He narrowed his eyes at you, and leaned forward a bit further, like he was readying himself to get up.

“Don’t do it, princess. Get over here and fall in fucking line. Now.”

“Sir. Yes, sir.”, you purred as you walked towards him, swaying your hips, and took his hand.

Frankie smugly grinned and tugged you on him; you squeaked and hitched your knee on the arm rest and stood, straddling his thigh.

“Good girl…”, he crooned as his hand not holding yours reached between your legs and stroked your clothed folds, and you sucked in a breath.

“You look good in my vest, princess… it’s a little big on you, but you look fucking hot…”

“Want you to put it on… wanna see it on you… please Frankie…”, you whined, rocking your hips against his hand.

He huffed a chuckle and smiled. “Mouse baby, you’ve ensured I can’t fit into anything I wore last year, let alone shit I wore in the military.”

“I know… that’s the point.”, you panted, wrapping your hand around the wrist of the hand between your thighs. “Wanna see you try… wanna see all my hard work… please, Frankie baby.”

Frankie’s face slacked and he let out soft groan at your words and your palm coming down to the front of his full belly and firmly patting and caressing him.

“There were pictures in with your tac vest, Frankie… you were so skinny… but look at you now… you got big, baby… twice the man you used to be… eating well… getting big… getting round… making your belly heavy and full… look so good like this… but I gotta see it, baby… gotta see you get this vest on you…”

His hazy eyes looked at you as he panted slightly. He nodded dumbly, licked his lips, and hoarsely replied, “Yeah, princess… that what you want?”

You nod and grin mischievously. “Yeah, baby… wanna see you in this – “, you shimmied your chest to highlight the vest, “- so we can have a comparison.”

A smile crept across Frankie’s face; he gently pushed you back and hoisted himself off the couch and stood up. Even with the platform combat boots, he stood a head above you.

He hooked his fingers in the arm holes of the vest and pulled you towards him slowly.

“Looks like it might be a little small, princess.”, he grinned. “Anything you want me to try and get on with it?”

Your hand snakes down his front and you gently gripped his almost-hard cock through his jeans. “It’s laid out in the bedroom for you…”

You tugged his cock and he grunted. “Don’t tease… Gimme the vest, Mouse…”

You let go of him and undid the vest, removed it and handed it to him. He watched your every move and made a low whistle at you standing before him in nothing but your lace lingerie and boots.

He took one last look then walked down the hall to your bedroom.

*****

You sat on the couch, curled up in the corner where Frankie previously sat, playing on your phone while you waited for Frankie. You heard some grunting and swearing coming from your bedroom, and you looked up, trying to see down the hallway.

“You need help, honey?”, you called out.

“Close your eyes, princess!”, he called back.

You did as requested, and you heard the bedroom door open, then heard Frankie lumber down the hallway towards you.

You knew he stood in front of you, not only from his footsteps creaking the floor, but you also could hear the fabric he was wearing creaking and stretching over his body.

He was breathing heavier, like getting the clothing on was strenuous but you could hear his smile when he spoke next, his voice deep.

“Open your eyes, princess.”

The sight before you was everything you had hoped it would be. Frankie stood with his legs wide, as if standing at ease, his cargo khaki pants pulled up but tight on his thighs and undone, and his faded red t-shirt pulled tight across his chest and shoulders and unable to go down any further than that. His round, fully belly prominently sticking out, preventing both the shirt and pants from being able to meet and sit where intended. His old Standard Oil trucker hat was on his head with his aviator sunglasses on his face.

You noted the tac vest was not on him but hanging at his side. He saw you look at it and he sucked in a breath and held it up in one hand as his other slapped his belly.

“The vest ain’t gonna fit, princess… sorry baby… you fed me way too good.”, he chuckled as you got up from the couch and walked towards him.

“I’ll help.”, you cooed, taking the vest from him as you both had stupid grins on your faces.

You helped him get the over his head and one arm through, but getting the side done up was a struggle.

“Frankie… did this ever fit you?”, you giggled as you tried to tug the sides together.

“Well… ooof! … yeah… but the last time I tried when we moved in together, it was – hmph! – getting a bit tight…”, he grunted as he tried to suck in his belly to to avail, then he laughed, and his tummy bounced. “Look what you’ve done to me!”

Your giggles continued as you finally got one of the clips to close, right under his armpit.

“Hey! We got one!”, you chirped, and Frankie laughed.

“Jesus, it’s tight!”, he huffed out with a smile.

You stood back and took in all that was Frankie. “God dammit…”, you breathed as you looked over his big form. “Look fucking good, Morales…”

“I look like an overstuffed sausage shoved in a shrunken leather glove – “

“Don’t… baby, don’t do that…”, your hand cupped his cheek and turned his face to yours, and the other caressed his chubby waist. “You look like a man who’s served his country and is now enjoying life with a woman who loves every pound, every ounce of you.”

“Fuck, you’re good.”, he said with a lopsided grin. “I love you so much… I’m a lucky bastard.”

“I love you, too.”

He leaned down and kissed you, then pulled away with his eyes and smile wide.

“Take a picture! Mouse! Get your phone and take a picture!”, he excitedly said.

You giggled, grabbing your phone. Frankie posed as though nothing was amiss with his outfit and then you got an idea. You grabbed o w of the photograph of Frankie wearing the exact outfit he was in and gave it to him, giggling.

“Hold it up. I’ll get a ‘before and after’ picture!”

He looked at the photo then smiled and held it up, and you got a shot of him, twin smiles almost a decade apart.

The size difference shot a hot spike in your core, and you clenched your thighs. It didn’t go unnoticed by Frankie, and his smile slid into a devilish grin. He took your phone to have a look; you thought he was texting the photo to himself.

“You like what you see, princess?” He began moving towards you. “Like seeing how big you got me?”

“Yeah… baby, yeah, I do.”, you almost panted, nodding as he stood less than a foot from you.

“Tell me how it makes you feel to see me like this- “, he grabs your hand pushes it against his belly, shaking it and making you feel the weight of him, “- to know this is all your handiwork.”

You let out a breathy whimper from your parted, pouted lips.

“Tell me, princess, how it feels to know you’re making me outgrow all my clothes so fast.”

“Frankie…”, you whimpered in a whisper, realizing he was backing you slowly towards the couch.

“Yeah, princess? You wanna tell me how much you like knowing how much bigger I am than you? That why you keep me well fed?”

The back of your knees hit the couch and you fell back with a squeak and Frankie stood over you between your parted knees. He reached under his arm and undid the vest, pulling it off and tossing it to the side.

He bent down and slid his hand between your thighs, pushing your lace thing to the side and feeling how slick you were.

“So fucking wet for me… my kinky baby… my princess gets wet from getting me fat.”, he smugly cooed. He kept eye contact with you as you breathed in and opened your mouth, eyes trying not to roll back. You could feel your cunt gushing again with the way he spoke to and looked at you.

“And my princess likes being called out for making me big… I can feel you getting wetter… pretty little pussy’s just fluttering and clenching on nothing but the hope this fat guy’s gonna fuck you stupid, huh?”

Your eyes widened and before you could respond, he pushed two thick fingers into your core. You gasped and grabbed his arm as his other hand played on the headrest of the couch beside your head.

“Fuck, Mouse… so fucking wet… baby, so tight… love this pussy… love my pussy… so fucking warm and wet…”, he murmured as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. The sounds coming from your mouth and count were like music to him; your whimpers, gasps and cries juxtaposed to the wet, slick and obscene sounds he was pulling from your core.

“Frankie! … please… please baby… please I need… I want you on me… wanna – fuck! – wanna feel how heavy you are… please… please fuck me!”

He smiled and kept fucking you with his fingers. “Princess, you're so sneaky. You've got everybody fooled."

You looked up at him, panting and confused. "What...what do you mean, Frankie?"

“People take one look at me and assume I'm a greedy, fat guy. But YOU'RE the greedy one, baby.”, he growled, circling his thumb on your clit, increasing the speed of his fingers. “You can't get enough of this belly, can you? Never gonna get your fill? You fucking love it when people ask you what you're feeding me. You think you do a good job of hiding it, but I know, Princess. I know."

Words failed you as the coil in your lower belly snapped and you came hard on his fingers, a wet patch now on the couch under you.

“Good girl…”, he groaned as he lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. “I could tell everyone I got fat on your sweet pussy, and they’d believe me.”

He grinned and leaned down, catching your lips in a fevered kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue and your arms wrapped around his neck, and moaned into his mouth, “Please, Frankie…”

He pulled back and you both tugged and pulled at the too-tight khakis and his boxers to free his aching cock. You then removed your panties, and he pushed you to lay across the couch as you frantically kissed one another. He sat up on his knees and gripped your knee, pulling your hips towards him, and he lined himself up with you and pushed in, leaning over you. Both of you let out a gasp as his hand found yours and interlaced, and you assumed Frankie was going to make love to you.

You couldn’t have been more wrong. What you didn’t realize was how riled up Frankie really was at your confirmation that you loved what you’d done to him. You’d made him bigger, softer, heavier, bulkier – and you loved him even more for it. The idea that he, at his size and in too small clothing, made you that wet and needy… it flipped a switch in his brain and put him on auto pilot; set him on a dangerous crash trajectory to fucking you hard and fast into the couch.

He let go of your hand and when you tried to sit up to catch his mouth in a kiss, he pulled your hips towards him harshly. You fell back and he snapped his hips into yours, forcing low grunts from him and panting whines from you. He put his whole weight into his harsh thrusts, making each time his cock impaled you sting – but you didn’t care right now, he felt so good.

“Can’t even see where I’m fucking you… made me so big… can’t see your tight pussy sucking me in… but fuck… I can feel it…you like having a fat guy fuck you, princess?... that’s why you’re so fucking wet…”

You cried out as he picked up the pace and intensity. He planted a foot on the floor, giving him more power to his already heavy thrusts and causing your body to rub into the coarse fabric of the couch. You could feel the friction making your back warm, and you knew you’d feel it afterwards – but you didn’t care right now; he felt so good.

“Fr-Frankie!... baby… keep – fuck!... keep going… don’t stop… look s-so good… so big… so fucking big!”

“Yeah?... that’s why your pussy’s holding on so hard… fuck… feels so good, Mouse… look so beautiful, baby… fucking small under me…”, he grunted, feeling your cunt start to spasm, knowing you were close. He released one of your knees, brought his thumb to his mouth and coated it in his spit, then brought it to your swollen clit and rubbed circles. “Come on, princess… come for me… come on… lemme feel it…”

Your body reacted quickly, and you came hard, back arched, his name peeling from your throat.

“That’s it… good girl… good…fucking…girl!”, Frankie groaned, his own release building quickly. His thrusts fell out of rhythm and as your body started to come down, he found his end. Pounding into you in a few quick thrusts, he came, and you could feel his hot spend filling you up and seeping out of you on to the couch.

Normally, you would have stay connected for a little while longer, but Frankie’s exertion in combination with the added weight he carried with his big dinner left him needing to sit down. When he pulled out of you, you let out a soft whimper and reached for him.

“I know, princess… I know… I’m sorry… I gotta sit down…”, he panted, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it before sitting back heavily in his spot at the end of the couch. He placed his hand on your ankle and rubbed gently.

You sat up, now keenly aware of the mess under you, and crawled to his side, snuggling in. You rubbed his belly gently; he was still feeling quite full, and you knew he needed to let it settle.

The faded red t-shirt was still pulled tight across his chest, and you slipped your finger under the rolled up hem, feeling almost no give.

“How did you manage to get this on?”, you asked quietly with a smile.

Frankie wiped his forehead and chuckled. “It wasn’t easy… and I can’t imagine getting it off will be either.”

Your phone vibrated, alerting you to a text, and then a few more in rapid succession. You sat up, scanning the room and finally found your phone on the floor next to the couch. Picking it up, you unlocked it and saw your group chat with Benny, Santi, Frankie, Hannah and Will was busy reacting to something. You scrolled up in the chat and saw that Frankie had sent the comparison picture of him holding his old photo to the group from your phone.

“Frankie!”, you gasped, and he laughed beside you, reading the comments.

“Holy fuck Fish!😲😂” - Santi “Yeah… I guess Mouse is a good cook 🤣 ” - Hannah "Breaking news! Relationship weight gain is not a myth!” - Benny “MOUSE. WFT.” - Will

--------<3---------

Image drawn by @yahtiwakitakos

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