#you asked beefro answered

[beefrobeefcal]

an Ezra & Cricket One Shot: Brass Knuckled Debauchee Summary: Ezra, after abusing your healing talents, returns to make good on his debt... for a price.

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 4,752

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), weight gain, eating, edging, soft!dom Ezra being an overall ass, teasing, begging, crying, malfunctioning prosthetic limb, the occasional swear

Author's Notes: requested by two (count'em - 2!) lovely babes for the 900 Friendo Celebration - thank you to @xdaddysprincessxx and @morallyinept for bringing Ezra some love.

Huge thank you to @strang3lov3 , @noxturnalpascal & @bitchesuntitled for their beta badass skills and to my ever lovely beta fish, @neverwheremoonchild. None of you will understand the depths of gratitude I hold you all in.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

You’d cared for him when his appendage was newly parted from his person, after a young woman dumped him off at your meagre midwife’s centre.  

You hadn’t delivered a baby in at least eight cycles, but you were busy tending to broken bones and crushed limbs from the mine nearby, so the idea of caring for a wound caused by a missing arm wasn’t far from your everyday.  

What was far from the standard men in your care was that this one wouldn’t shut up. Truly. You’d never met someone so close to death spew such a narrative. You almost wished to have him out of his misery just to stop his linguistic vomit.  

Thank Kevva for sedatives.  

You didn’t even want to know his name, worried that if you had his, he’d need yours and there was no way someone this sick and wounded that could carry on like he’s memorized a thesaurus wasn’t capable of performing a hex or a curse on you. 

After three blessedly quiet and devoid-of-narration days, the open wound where his arm once hung from was no longer festering and the fever that wracked his body broke. Despite your own desire to keep him silent, you stopped administering such a high dose of the sedative, and you allowed him to regain consciousness.  

For the first little while, all you heard was his steady, deep breathing, so you left the room to grab some water and liquified sustenance for him, figuring that when he would finally come to, he’d be hungry. 

“To what do… do I owe the pleasure?”, you heard croaked as you walked softly back into the room.  

“Oh good…”, you replied flatly. “You’re awake and talking.” 

The remainder of his stay that time had revolved around you doing what you could to keep his mouth occupied enough to keep it quiet; you fed him. By the time he’d left, he’d made you aware of his name – Ezra – and bestowed a nickname on you for lack of giving your own. Cricket. He then made the terrible promise to return to see you and left with a wink and a smile.  

Your whole body bristled at the thought of having to deal with him again. 

***** 

The first return visit he made, his confidence and vocabulary were still obnoxiously inflated. Whining of a bruised rib, you resumed your frustrated feeding to keep him down to two to three sentences and responses between mouthfuls.  

The second time he returned, he stated that he had been ‘brutalized by a deviant, one who you should not even be told of his true form else your fragile and virtuous mind be stained’. There wasn’t a single mark on him, save for a bite on his only arm that looked to be self-inflicted. He enjoyed himself, smiling between bites of food. 

By the third visit – complaining of a sprained toe - you knew that he knew that you knew what you were doing - and vice versa. Despite this, you fed him, and he ate very well. After several days of ‘healing’, he hauled himself up and it was then that you noted his flight suit looking like it was getting tighter around his middle.  

Those visits happened in a fairly rapid succession, but a longer period – more than six cycles at least - lapsed before he darkened your doorway and approached your desk once again. Without even looking up, you knew it was him, having heard his cavalier long-form salutations being crooned out at anyone he passed approaching your unit. 

“What now?”, you sighed in irritation, dropping your head into your hand, not bothering to look up at him – something you would come to regret to save yourself future embarrassment. You didn’t see him close your door and lock it behind him.  

He approached your desk, and his hand came into view along with a mechanical one; the smooth-as-silk tongued devil was now outfitted with a prosthetic arm that looked like it had been stolen from a brass skeleton and had gears added. Your eyes followed the mechanical limb up to the hem of his shortened sleeve, hiding the joint between it and what remained of his actual arm. The new colour of his clothing caught your attention, too, pulling your eyes to his torso. Yes, it was definitely a different colour. He was no longer in the moss greens and soil browns you’d associated with him. Now, he was in a dark blue flight suit with a gold zipper that looked to just be barely holding together.  

Your brain paused to take in what was in front of you.  

“No more chirps for me, sweet Cricket?” 

His raspy, southern drawl sounded sweeter than you’d noticed before as your eyes took in the added weight on his middle. Before looking up to his face, you noted the way the zipper rippled from the strain and the clear indent his belly button made as the fabric pulled taut across his expanse.  

His face. As soon as you took it in, you regretted not doing it first. He’s held you in his big brown eyes’ gaze before, but you’d been able to avoid being trapped. But this time you couldn’t help but let them absorb you. His smile widened as he slightly leaned forward, arms putting further weight on your desk.  

“You seem at a loss for word, Crick-“ 

“You’ve been eating well.”, you managed to croak out in a somewhat aloof-sounding voice, nodding towards his middle.  

He didn’t shrink back at your comment; instead, it seemed to embolden him.  “You started me on a path of decadence that a mere man such as myself isn’t able to easily shake.” 

He stood to his full height, eyes never leaving yours. “Is that all you noticed?”, he grinned, lifting his brass appendage, bringing the crude and simple brass hand to his face, smoothing over his moustache.  

Your lips parted then closed and parted again before you were able to spit out, “I saw y-… I see you got a new… limb.” 

His eyes gleamed at you, seeing his every move had you further in his grasp. You inwardly scowled, chiding yourself on how quickly you were falling under his spell. Narrowing your eyes, you shrugged at him. 

“Looks old.” 

If it stung him, he didn’t show it; he simply kept that smile on his face and continued to look down at you from across the desk. “I’m not its first owner.” 

The pleasantries had only lasted a few more moments before Ezra moved around your desk and hovered over you. 

“I’m here to return the favour, Cricket.” 

“...Favour?” 

“For all the hard work you put into bringing me back to my full health.”, he cooed lowly as his brass hand cooled your cheek with its feather-light touch.  

“It’s nothing... I was just doing my j - “ 

He leaned over you further, cheshire grin pulled menacingly across his face. His voice slipped into a lower pitch and his eyes darted from your eyes to your mouth.  

“Doing your job would have been to send me away when I appeared with erroneous and fabricated injuries and illnesses. You, my sweet Cricket, stepped over and above the threshold of your employment and I intend to repay you for your sweetness in full.” 

You sucked in a few shallow breaths and nervously swallowed. This was a side of him you hadn't seen, assuming that he was a submissive and pliant brat who’d chosen you to dote on him. But no. There was no favour he intended to pay back. He was just sizing you up and wrangling you into his web, and now he was out loud declaring that you were his prey. His eyes were dark and fixed on you, in contrast with the gentle smile on his face.  

“Don’t be nervous, sweet Cricket. You can tend to your own wounds afterwards. Now, let me hear you chirp.” 

His brass arm shot out and gripped your wrist tightly and he pulled you from your seat. Dragging you to the maternity room, he tossed you onto the low soft bed.  

“Ezra!”, you squeaked as your body hit the push mattress below you.  

He dropped to his knees and crawled up, forcing your legs apart, and his belly barely grazed your middle as his face lined up with yours. You let out an involuntary whimper. 

“Oh, sweet Cricket. How badly I wanted you on your back, making those sweet vocalizations your namesake promised me.” 

His flesh and bone hand gently grazed your face and moved to the back of your head, softly fisting your hair, forcing your head to stay still as he traced his nose along the contours of your face. His eyes remained half lidded and he watched as your own rolled back when he pushed his knee into the crux of your thighs, knowing he had all but your verbal consent.  

“This is all you need, sweet Cricket? Someone to light the way?” 

All you can muster as his hold on your hair tightened and his knee applied more pressure was a light whine through your parted lips.  

You wanted to respond, but the moment you opened your mouth, Ezra’s brass arm made a clunk sound and began to shudder.  

“Oh, for Kevva’s sake.”, he muttered, sitting up on his knees as he examined the arm. It made a mechanical sound before it shuddered again, then a higher pitched noise droned as the arm vibrated.  

You watched him sitting between your parted legs as the realization of what he had at his disposal dawned on him. Your eyes widened as he turned and looked at you like a starved man with a wild grin.  

“Sweet Cricket, I think I could go for a bite to eat.” 

***** 

Once you’d gotten some finger foods together and brought them back into the room, you found Ezra laid back in a mountain of pillows on the bed. He nodded his head towards you and raised his hand, beckoning you to him.  

“Come on, Cricket. Tend to your weary traveller.” 

His eyes were glued to you, cascading up and down your form, as you hand fed him. He’d had a few pieces of the savoury pastries when you felt the cool touch of his brass hand slide between your thighs.  

“Curious...”, he mused as he chewed. “… that when I make a certain motion with my appendage, it malfunctions in such an amusing manner that I know you will find benefit in, pet.” 

Your brows furrow in question and before you can ask how that could benefit you in any way, the arm made that clunk sound again. You felt the vibration between your thighs and your eyes widened.  

“Ez – oh fuck!”, you gasped as he pushed his knuckle up against your mound and held it there firmly. 

Your mouth was open, allowing shallow panting breaths to puff out and your eyes were closed with your brows pinched as the shuddering vibrations pulsed against you. You’d never felt anything like this before in your life and you thanked Kevva.  

The low amber tones of his voice cut through to you and pulled you out of your silent prayer. “Now, sweet Cricket. We are both here to derive enjoyment from one another given we both now have the intel on each other’s vices. You can’t go holding out on me to seek your fruition – that is not fair.” 

He pulled his hand from contacting your core, and your eyes snapped to his, a pleading whimper bubbling out from your pouting lips.  

“Uh-uh, Cricket. We will play fair.”, he growled in warning. His smile dropped as his features darkened, and he nodded towards your suspended hand holding a small meat-filled pastry. “Don’t you dare hold out on me.” 

Shakily, you brought the morsel to his mouth and as he took it in and let his tongue touch your finger, his hand once again pressed against your core. 

***** 

Ezra had continued to eat and finished over half of platter. But every time you started to get close to your peak, he would pull his hand away, leaving you a shaking mess. 

“P-please… Ezra, please!”, you begged mere seconds away from ecstasy.  

“I am not finished, sweet Cricket.”, he said with a mouthful. “You will be sated when I have found my fill, and we are not yet there.” 

You could have screamed at him, strangled him in a rage. “Ezra please! I - ”. 

The warning look he gave you stopped any further pleading. Your mind reeled, trying to find some way to get relief. You could kick him out and try to finish yourself off with your fingers, but you knew it would be fruitless; you’d never gotten this worked up on your own before and you doubt that you had anything in this clinic that vibrated at that frequency.  

As you trembled and panted, Ezra watched, amused at how clearly you were seeking a solution to the problem he’d created for you.  

“Cricket…”, he cooed, soothing his biological hand up your arm and to your face. He gently guided your chin towards him. “Sweet Cricket, come back to me.” 

When your frantic gaze met his, his eyes softened and creased as he smiled. “I will not leave you unfinished. I repay my debts, darling nurse.” 

You sighed in defeat, nodded, and took a deep breath. Your eyes trailed down to his noticeably rounder middle that made the already strained zipper pull at the seams of the fabric. He shifted in what looked like discomfort.  

You put down the current half-filled plate of food and reached for the zipper tag, tugging it down. It only got to the beginning of the swell of his belly before you met resistance. You tugged a little harder, but it wouldn’t budge. 

“Suck it in.” 

“Now, Cricket, let’s not be hast-“ 

“I said suck it in.”, you snapped back far more forcefully than intended.  

Ezra froze then nodded. “Sweet girl, I will try, but…”  You saw his middle pull in slightly. “… the profound conundrum I experienced in getting it on…” 

The zipper finally moved, and he groaned as his stomach expanded. “Sweet Kevva… such relief.” 

You were desperate for him to touch you again, but seeing him fat and swollen before you, knowing it was your work that was filling him out. Ezra watched your gaze turn hungry and almost feral. Granted, he felt that way as he watched you teeter on the edge of falling apart over and over. He wasn’t ready to let the power he held over you go, giving him the drive to get through, bite by bite. But that power began to slip the moment his vulnerable and considerably rounder middle exposed, and it left him feeling uneasy and unsure. 

“A change of flavour… is needed, my sweet Cricket.”, Ezra crooned, trying to exude as much confidence he could muster, despite his self-consciousness lingering in the back of his mind. He swallowed down a moan as your blown-pupiled eyes met his. He pushed a faux-confident smile and spoke softer. “Something sweeter, perhaps?” 

Letting a small huff escape, you nodded and got up from the bed, cursing him under your breath for having this much power over you. 

As you stood in the small kitchen area, waiting for the food rehydrator to loudly prepare the freeze-dried baked goods, you didn’t hear Ezra huff and grunt as he got off the bed and saunter into the kitchen. You weren’t alerted to his presence until his belly hit your back and his brass hand went to your hip.  

His nose and mouth pressed against the back of your neck, whispering filth as his hand cupped your breast and squeezed. 

“You leave yourself so vulnerable, sweet Cricket... back to the door, not an ounce of concern…. any rapscallion of low morals could take advantage… of your sweet, supple figure…” 

You let out a light, breathy whine gripping his hand as he kneaded your breast. As much as you wanted his hands on you, you wanted his mouth on your own more, so you pushed your body back against his, making enough room between him and the counter for you to turn around. His brass hand stayed on the curve of your waist, not offering any resistance, and his other hand cupped your cheek, holding it in place while he kissed you softly. His lips moved against yours like he was able to read your mind, or maybe even needed this point of contact as badly as you did. His mouth parted and his tongue pushed for entrance into your mouth, and once it was granted, the kiss fevered and boiled over. You felt your core throb with need and want, soaking your pants and already ruined underwear, and he crowded you against the counter. So wrapped up were you in his mouth and teeth and tongue, that you didn’t feel his brass hand move from your waist. 

In one swift move, Ezra shoved your pants down in the front enough for his brass hand to slip with no barrier into your folds. The cool touch you would have expected from it was long forgotten as the metal now met your body temperature. Still engulfed in the kiss that was beginning to rob your breath, the telltale clunk barely registered in your mind until the vibrations started. Sending a jolt through your body, you pulled your face away from his and let out a shrill gasp.  

The timer on the rehydrator went off, and Ezra chuckled darkly, watching your brows draw together and your eyes flutter.  

“The rules stay the same, Cricket. Sweet or savoury, I will have my fill and you will have your petite mort. But one will meet the other at the same time.”, he said in a wickedly soft tenor. “Now, you can begin holding up your end, sweet girl.” 

Once again, Ezra ripped away any power you might have had or believed you had, edging you with each bite, withholding his metal hand’s vibrations from the moment his mouth was empty to the moment your hand shakily pushed another bite past his lips. Overstimulation mixed with the pent-up fury of being denied an orgasm had you panting rapidly, tears threatening to spill over. High pitched whines and shuddering whimpers were all you could produce, and it was music to Ezra’s ears.  

“You… create the most… glorious cricket song…”, he mused softly as he chewed the mouthful. “Keep chirping, sweet girl…” 

You were coming to a point where you weren’t sure you would make it. Your brain felt like it was filled with the static from a communicator’s blank channel and your hearing and sight felt fuzzy. The coil tightening in your cunt was hitting a painful level, causing you to drop the next pastry you’d picked up with your shaking hands. 

As soon as it hit the floor, Ezra tsk’d you, and pulled his hand right out of your pants. The pained sob that burst from you from the loss of contact was loud and harsh, and the tears finally spilled over, staining your cheeks.  

“P-please… I… I can’t!”, you cried out, jutting your hand out clumsily to grab his wrist as he pulled back. His dark eyes scanned your desperate ones, pausing momentarily, before his gaze shifted to one of pity and amusement. 

“You can’t what?”, he mocked with a cruel grin. “Can’t what, sweet Cricket?” 

A rasped and pained whine peeled out of your throat as your head fell to his shoulder, and his hand gripped your hair and pulled back, forcing you to look at him. You looked ruined. Your cheeks flushed and eyes wet and lidded, your lips parted, turned down and chin quivering. He shoved up back and up onto the counter. 

“Oh, come now, sweet Cricket. Don’t look at me like I won’t give you your due.”, he whispered, ghosting his mouth over yours. His brass fingers traced lurid shapes along your inner thighs, causing your body to shiver and that coil painfully wind up in your core once more.  

“I asked you for something sweeter, pet,”, Ezra mockingly cooed as he pulled back, your face involuntarily following his to try and capture his lips against yours. He shook his head, smile tugging at one side of his mouth. “Something sweeter and you dropped it on the floor. It’s precious currency, Cricket, and you mishandled it.” 

Your eyes followed his, stuck in the trance he’d put you under. He could have told you to do anything, given any order and you would have obeyed to your detriment. His brass hand moved to your throat, long, metal fingers grasping just tight enough to keep you precariously seated on the edge of the counter. His thicker middle forced you legs open wide, and his other hand took its place between your legs and without warning, he shoved two fingers into your core.  

Your mouth and eyes widened as a wrecked gasp escaped you and your hands went to grab onto what ever meaty part of him you could grab for stability. Ezra hummed in response as the pads of his fingers felt the walls of your cannel twitch and flutter at his intrusion. 

“Good Kevva, sweet girl…”, he groaned, watching your face contort. “As much as this contraption of a limb can bring me such sadistic joy at your expense, my own digits needed to feel the silken walls of your inner sanctum.” 

As he pumped his fingers in and out of you, he dropped his forehead against yours and hummed again, answering your repeated whining pants and moans.  

“Keep chirping, Cricket… sing me your evening song… that’s it….”  

As you felt your peak come careening in, he felt your walls convulse and slicken up. The soft tenor he’s just lulled you into a steady rhythm with fell away and the low chuckle followed by his fingers being removed made you scream out and dig your nails into the fattened flesh of his upper arm and shoulder. 

“EZ-EZRA! PLEASE! FUCK-PLEASE!”, you sobbed out in a shriek.  

His brass hand’s hold tightened around your throat, and he shoved your shoulders flush with the wall behind counter roughly.  

Your desperate eyes looked him over as best as you could, given the position he had you in. His bloated and full stomach moved with each laboured breath he took and the strain he put himself under to wreck you was fully apparent. You could feel the outline of his clothed hard cock seated against your thigh and the sweat beading on his forehead. He wiped his face and parted his lips to take in deeper breaths; his irises were indiscernible from his pupils as he looked down at you. 

You had never known need like this, and you felt as though you were going to succumb due to your lack of orgasm as a final line in the life that Kevva had written for you. 

“P…please…” 

“Is it my cock you want to be impaled on, pet? You want to whine and mewl while I rut my quiver bone into your sopping celestial cavern?”, he coolly growled, but there was a slight waiver in his voice. You saw the same desperation in the dark abyss of his eyes. 

You nodded dumbly and he scowled, baring his teeth, and tore his brass hand off you, trying to make quick work of getting his flight suit off his shoulders. The arms were tight around his fleshy arms, and you shakily sat up and tried to help. Once his arms were free, you tugged the material over his waist, taking note of the roll of flesh sitting just above his waistband, showing just how much he had been indulging. You gave it a squeeze, revelling in the sound he made, sucking his breath thru his teeth at your fingers.  

“Marvel the fruits of your labour, Cricket… The destination you set me on course to has made me beyond redemption and unfit for galactic adventuring…”, he grunted breathily, shoving his flight suit off his legs before kicking it off entirely. “You have effectively rendered me useless beyond what effect I am able to wield on you.” 

He shoved his mouth against yours before you could respond or ask what he meant, sucking you into a bruising kiss. His hands gripped your hips, pulling your twitching cunt flush with his weeping, hard cock, knocking the plastic plate that held the desserts onto the floor at his feet. Fumbling slightly, he pulled back and gripped his member, before lining it up with your entrance and pushing it in all at once. The sting of his intrusion melded perfectly with the relief of finally connecting, and the sound you made caused Ezra to almost break. His eyes softened and his brows tented, body tense at the gentle yet firm, warm hold you had on him.   

“I’m af-afraid I’ve pushed too far to allow for… for niceties and gentle welcomes, sweet Cricket…”, he panted against your face, teeth clenched as he tried to focus and draw this out as long as possible.  

“Please move...”, you begged in a strained whine.  

“If I move to fast, sweet Cricket, I will... end this fortuitous connection with an... an early release, and that would render me- fuck!... render me less than a gentleman...” 

“You’re no gentleman... now shut up an-and fuck me!” 

It seemed that your tight walls and frantic begging were too much for Ezra, and he pulled out with a grunt, followed by a whine as he came onto the plate on the floor. The vulgar sounds of his panting breaths mixed with the sploot of his spend had you seeing red. 

“You asshole!”, you screeched, shoving him off you.  

He panted and held his hands up in surrender as you charged at him. 

“Cricket... forgive me! You’re too sweet... your sacred cavern was too - “ 

The slap you landed across his face stopped his fancy wordplay. “You fucking bastard!” 

Ezra’s eyes flashed in anger, and he stood to his full height, towering over you.  

“That was uncalled for, Cricket.”, he snarled. “I will take the wrath of meeting an end without you by my side, but I will not allow you to besmirch my good mother with a question of my paternal lineage.” 

You stared at him, eyes wide with anger at his audacity, and before you could say another word, he tackled you to the floor. You tried to fight him off but the moment you heard the clunk of his brass arm and felt two metal fingers punch up into your slick heat, you ceased your struggle.  

“See, sweet Cricket? I may be a wayward traveler, but even I know the dangers of leaving a woman on the precipice of completion... “ 

“Don’t stop... please... don’t stop...”  

The vibrations of his arm and the smooth curves of the worn metal fingers found a rhythm that had you seeing stars.  

“I plan to keep demanding your company each time I move through this sector, and-” 

“Oh Kevva... Ez-Ezra!” 

He leaned forward and ghosted his mouth over yours, speaking in a low, husky growl, “... if I were to fail you now, what kind of welcome would I receive the next time I darken your doorway?” 

Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull and your body arched off the floor. Pent up energy burst from your burning cunt, sending wave after wave of precious release through your body. The scream that peeled out of you was dampened by Ezra kissing you forcefully. 

His movement slowed and he slowly pulled his brass hand from your core. You were greeted with his grin as he looked over his brass hand. 

“You’ve polished only two fingers for me... there are three more.”, he cooed, placing a delicate kiss on the end of your nose. “Next time.” 

“N-next time?” 

He nodded and stood up with a grunt. You sat up carefully, and it seemed you both took note of the plate on the floor, covered in his cum. The chastisement was on your tongue, but never became words out loud as you were struck speechless as you watched him pick up the plate and fling it out the window.  

He turned back to you, standing naked in the kitchen, fat and sweaty, with a grin on his face.  

“There is always a next time, Cricket.” 

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #ezra prospect #fat ezra #chubby!ezra #chubby ezra rights !!! #🥩 #900 friendo celebration #900 milestone #900 followers #pedro pascal tummy #you ask beefro answers #thot tank #you asked beefro answered

[lean-ground-beefro]

Hold up! Wait a damn minute!

How the hell did I not know this blog existed?! BEEFRO!!!

Imma eat all this up! I love you so much. 😭😅

it’s a new addition to the Bistro, Pamy!

And as you can see, it’s pretty bare around here… contribute to the THOT TANK today and let’s change that!

Thank you for coming to leaner side of the menu 👌💜

Beefro 👌🥦💜

#you asked beefro answered #🥦 #thot tank #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #Beefro’s lean menu

[beefrobeefcal]

Hello beefro,

I am so devastated. Have you seen the new pics? Are you also mourning the loss of the beef? Sending you love

While I am saddened at the loss of our beloved tummy, I adore Peepaw too much to dwell on his trimmer physique.

I think we can all agree that he looks fine as hell no matter what weight he's at!

Yours in sin,

Beefro👌🥩💜

That being said, here's some of Beefro's Choice Cuts™️

#beefro is trash for fat pedro #p-boy tummy time #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #you ask beefro answers #thot tank #you asked beefro answered #🥩 #rip tummy

[beefrobeefcal]

Fat Ezra? Fat Ezra.

So I think he actually hurt his leg on a prospect trip, he still has both arms. And he goes back home bc he’s out of commission. He manages to go to his fave club to see his fave girl dance. She sees him struggling and is like wow let me take you back to my place and care for you.

Fast forward a couple of months, he lives with her, she takes care of him, she hand feeds him every meal 😍 sometimes he likes to hold a vibrator to her clit while she feeds him and if she messes up/isn’t quick with the bites/misses his mouth, he pulls away until she calms down a tad and starts all over again aka he edges her. Also since she’s been taking care of him, obvi he has a belly now and she loves how healthy and fuller he is. I could easily see some tummy riding/thigh riding, maybe he’s a lil self conscious and she kisses his tummy

Bless you, Prinny, and your Ezra dedication!

I haven't forgotten about our beloved rapscallion and he will be touching down sooner rather than later.

While not all the THOTs contributed made it through, you did inspire a rather important aspect of the plot.

Everyone say Thank you Prinny! for her beautiful, sexy brain. Thank you so much for being here in the Bistro with me and for all your love and support!

Yours in sin,

Beefro👌🥩💜

#900 friendo celebration #900 milestone #900 followers #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #you ask beefro answers #thot tank #you asked beefro answered #ezra prospect #fat ezra #chubby!ezra #chubby ezra rights !!! #🥩

[beefrobeefcal]

Queen Beefro!! 🥩🖤🎉🎉

Congrats on your milestone, lovely! So happy for you! 🎉🎉

To celebrate, I'd love to request 👌🏻 if I may, and if you're up for it, I'd love to see your take on a chubby!Ezra... 😉

He would too...

Love you!! 🖤🎉

I hope I do you proud, Nepty!

He will be chubby and he will be Ezra. And he will be dropping soon!

Thank you for your love and support - your a delight to this community and a shining part of the Bistro! And a big thanks to you, Nepty, for helping celebrate 900 friendos!

Yours in sin,

Beefro👌🥩💜

#900 friendo celebration #900 milestone #900 followers #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #you ask beefro answers #thot tank #you asked beefro answered #ezra prospect #fat ezra #chubby!ezra #chubby ezra rights !!! #🥩

[beefrobeefcal]

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]

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.

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @nerdieforpedro  @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @tightjeansjavi@rubyfruitjungle@lilmizmoz @strang3lov3

#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 #🥩

[beefrobeefcal]

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----------

Leave your comments after the beep!

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TAGLIST:

@harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed @theywhowriteandknowthings @toxicanonymity @neverwheremoonchild @beee-haw @rebel-held @deathsholywaterr @xdaddysprincessxx

#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 #🥩

[beefrobeefcal]

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 #🥩

[beefrobeefcal]

Um okay so Javier Peña? Stubborn as fuck. Put on a little weight and he refuses to get new fucking clothes. Thinking season 3 Javier where he has a private office.

Well it’s after a wicked long day, stressful day. His work pants are already tight enough to be bugging him, and he’s sitting at his desk and only him and the receptionist or whatever are still there doing work.

Javier thinks he’s safe - sure he can unbutton his work pants just to catch his breath. He takes a sip of his whiskey and begins to unbutton and unzip his pants - tummy jumping forward - finally able to take a deep breath. He slumps back in his chair and palms his tummy gently, thinking to himself he absolutely either needs to start eating better & drinking less, or give up and buy a new suit.

Only for the receptionist to knock on his door and come in, which Pedro fidgeting to cover his open pants. The receptionist thinks he’s being dirty behind his desk - until they’re getting ready to fuck on their first date and she asks him what all that was about. He has a wicked blush all over his face and neck when he has to admit his pants were squeezing the absolute life out of him.

UNF. Nonnie. We thank thee for this bountiful feast we're about to receive.

Beefro 👌🥩💜

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

Beefro proudly presents:

a Chubby!Peña one shot

Javier Peña & his Sweetheart: An HR Nightmare

Pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader (Sweetheart!)

Summary: Javier quit booze, informants, and cigarettes. All he's left with is a pissy mood, food and you.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 5,748

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), p in the v - unwrapped (don't be silly, cover you willy, kids!), belly appreciation, ill-fitting clothes, semen on clothing, hard candty throwing

Author's Notes: This is a long time coming. Blessed be the Nonnie who submitted this, and a major special thanks to @rebel-held & @theywhowriteandknowthings who read draft after draft and @neverwheremoonchild & @toxicanonymity for their smutty support. Shout out to the TDS for their unhinge thirst on twitter.

Final draft not beta'd, so enjoy my typos. TA DA!

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

Javier Peña was an all or nothing kind of guy. Work? Women? Cigarettes? Booze? He threw himself into them all headfirst, consequences be damned. But as he got older, a new item was added to that list – food.

You were hired as his secretary once he was promoted to the head of the department. You were leery, knowing his reputation for being a womanizer, but he turned out to be moodier than anything else, especially since he quit smoking your first week. While he admired your sharp wit and appreciated your honesty, he rarely showed it. The only time he seemed to be anything other than pissy was when you offered him some of the candy you hid in your desk for him.

Quitting smoking was harder than all Javier’s other habits to break, given it wasn’t just the nicotine that he craved, it was an oral fixation, too. He felt he constantly needed something in his mouth, and you were more than happy to provide him with anything sweet to keep his mood in check.

The long hours he worked in his new position meant that there was little time to sate his other vices; while he did still enjoy whiskey from time to time, the hangover he was graced with when he hit the bottle hard as he got older wasn't worth it. And now that he wasn’t the one with informants, women were not as easily obtainable as they once were.

He went from satiating his boredom and hunger with cigarettes and whiskey to actually eating something in the evenings. Then the snacking throughout the day started.

In short, Javier Peña was coping with food.

The one night that changed everything happened after a particularly grueling day. Meeting after boring meeting, back-to-back all day, he stopped by his favourite take out place, placed a ridiculously large order out of sheer hunger and frustration, and went home with enough food for a family of four. He laid out all the food in front of him and just started to eat. Halfway through, he had to open his pants and unbutton his shirt in order to finish. Once done, he hauled his stuffed belly to bed and slipped into a food coma.

You watched him come in the morning after, looking a little sluggish and slightly bloated. You figured he had tied one off late into the night to blow off steam, but as it happened more often, you knew it wasn’t alcohol or women. He’d slipped up and told someone about this take-out pace that he’d been ordering from, and you put two and two together pretty quicky.

His affinity for take-out and the candy you hid in your desk resulted in his middle filling out. It wasn’t too noticeable at first, but after nearly a year of his new habits, Javier Peña was growing quite the belly. Despite this, he’d refused to change his wardrobe, fairly certain that his new bulk wasn’t that noticeable.

Because of this, Javier sometimes looked like an unmade bed version of himself. Regardless, you desperately wanted to keep feeding him and feel his belly get bigger, among other things.

*****

Javier woke up on the wrong side of the bed. He was craving a cigarette in the worst way, and he was out of gum. All that he had to take his mind off smoking was a pile of leftovers in the fridge. He ate the whole lot, then fought to get his pants done up. Still refusing to acknowledge that he needed to upgrade his wardrobe, he ignored the feeling under his belly as he tightened his belt; he had to suck in his stomach as hard as he could to get the buttons done up on his shirt, and once he relaxed, the buttons were pulling, although not enough to gape or pop. This was becoming an issue more and more often, but Javier was stubborn. He was in a bad enough mood already, and he didn’t want to give a single thought to his clothing.

He stormed into the office and stood in front of your desk, huffing as he reviewed the contents of a file folder. It was your first day back after a three-week holiday and he was impatiently waiting for you to get off the phone. You turned in your chair and smiled coldly at him, and when his eyes went back down to the file, yours wandered down to his middle.

You almost choked and had to hide it in a cough so the person on the other line and Javier wouldn’t ask what was wrong. His already tight pants had become tighter, especially now that the front of his pants had to bow under his belly, and his shirt, while it was buttoned, wasn’t long enough. You could see a sliver of skin peeking out between his belt and the front corners of his shirt. And it took every ounce of strength to not reach out and touch it.

You’d noticed he was filling out a bit more before you left, but his was an entirely new development. Javier eyed you when you coughed, but you continued to pretend to be listening to what the other person was saying while you imagined what you needed to do to get those buttons to pop.

“How was your vacation?”, Javier scowled after you hung up.

“Great. I’m so glad to be back.”, you responded politely.

“Don’t need to lie to me.”, he huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Well, gee, Peña. It’s nice to see you and your mood, too.”, you snarked back. “Looks like you've kept yourself preoccupied.”

You nodded towards his fuller midsection with a smirk, and his face flushed. He stood up straighter and tried to suck in his belly.

You snickered at his attempt to hide the evidence of his decadence. “It’s good to be back and to get your office back on track. I’ve been sifting through all the files that you didn’t bother to deal with the last three weeks.”

He rolled his eyes again as he snarled sarcastically, “I’m so sorry you have to do your job.”

“Jesus, you are in a snit today.”, you sighed, holding up your candy dish. “Here, take the edge off pretend you are actually happy to see me. Maybe then I’ll give you the gift I picked up for you.”

He rolled his eyes and tossed the file folder on your desk and held his hand out for his gift.

“Not if you’re not happy to see me, Peña.”, you warned.

“Fucking tease.”, he muttered, popping a Werther’s caramel into his mouth.

“Oh, did I put you in a worse mood?”, you mockingly pouted, opening a drawer and pulling out a few boxes of chocolate coated macadamia nuts, then stated in a firmer tone, “You be nice today and you might get one of these boxes. Got it?”

He sighed and shook his head, and warned you in a low growl, “Watch it, sweetheart.”

And there it was, that nickname. Sweetheart. One of his subordinates called you that as a joke when you started giving Javier candy to temper his mood, but Javier took it and ran. Anyone else calling you that name caused your temper to flare, but when he did it? Your heart felt like it was trying to jump out of your mouth and flee from the room. You knew he used to be a flirt, and you shouldn’t let it get to you, but being your first day back and the sight you were greeted with, your guard was down. You swallowed hard and nodded back at him, opening one of the boxes and offering him a nut.

*****

The day went quickly for you due to the catch up you were playing all day with the files that needed sorting. Javier spent most of the day in his office, being that his mood was still, well, terrible and his clothes were feeling far too tight; he felt uncomfortable and bitchy.  You were in and out, taking and leaving documents from his desk and trying so hard to remain focused on your tasks that you didn’t notice Javier eyeing you up and down at every opportunity. While he was discreet, he allowed himself the chance to check you out, noting the tan that warmed your skin tone, the way your skirt clung to your tight, little frame, and the way your blouse flowed and bounced with your tits. Javier figured that you were not interested in a workplace affair, something he knew all too well the dangers of. That, or you weren't interested in him. He remembered the way your body tensed when he would touch you and brush past you, and the last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable and lose you because he was a horny, lonely man. You were too valuable and important to him to take a chance; you were one of the few who was able to put up with him and his attitude. All that and he thought you were fucking hot.

By the end of the night, you’d decided that you were going to leave, get some dinner, then return to finish what you needed to be fully caught up. Assuming that Javier would be gone by the time you returned, you didn’t let him know you would be back.

“Have a good night, Agent Peña.”, you said, popping your head in his office.

He waved you off in a flat tone, not looking up from his file, “Night, sweetheart. Thanks for coming back.”

You rolled your eyes with a sigh and headed out. Javier lifted his head as you turned and watched you leave, his mind wandering to things he knew better than to allow.

With him having more things to get done, he’d organized earlier in the day to have his favourite take-out place deliver his usual order to the office around dinnertime. It arrived soon after you left, and he enjoyed most of the meal in silence, having to undo his belt and pants to accommodate all the food in him. He sat back in his office chair, picking his teeth, hand on his swollen middle.

You’d returned over an hour later, surprised to see a light on in his office.

“Agent Peña?”, you called out, walking towards his office, smelling take-out wafting in the air, figuring he ordered in because he was staying late.

Javier scrambled to sit up and tried not to look guilty while trying to suck in his belly. He tossed some paperwork over what was left of his dinner as you walked into his office, leaning forward in his chair to hide his open pants and looking at his flushed face, knowing you interrupted something.

“Oh... I thought you’d be gone by now.”, you said, leaning against the door frame with a smirk.

“Oh, no... I have some things... I need to get done and...”, he cleared his throat, his middle aching to be let back out. “I decided to stay late. What are you doing back?”

“I have some things I need to do to be caught up for tomorrow, so I came back after dinner.”, you said, trying not to smile even more. His guilty expression and flushed face had you thinking you’d just interrupted him jacking off, but knowing he was more than likely eating at his desk.

He finally had to give in and sit back but he pulled an open file over his lap to hide his open waistband. His belly was pulling his shirt taut across his middle, buttons threatening to give way, and his breathing was heavy.

“Have you eaten yet, Agent Peña?”, you asked coolly with a grin, your eyes scanning down and noting his middle looked fuller. Javier noticed your stare and cleared his throat. He looked at the blush creeping up your body and the look in your eyes, and he felt a rush of uncertainty.

“I got some food already.” he said, trying to keep his tone even.

“Right...”, you nodded with a smile. “You sure you don’t want another chocolate covered macadamia nut? You were being pretty nice to me today…”

“Maybe in a bit. Finish what you need and then maybe...”, he waved you off in a cold tone, desperately wanting to end this awkwardness for himself.

You nodded and turned, sauntering back to your desk. Javier watched you then sighed, letting his belly relax further and push out, his shirt buttons coming dangerously close to popping.

You sat at your desk, trying to concentrate on the files in front of you, but your mind kept slipping back to what he was doing when you walked in. He was filling out that stomach of his even further and you’d caught him. You’d also noticed the way his eyes roamed over you and the matching flush that crept up his face as you stood in his doorway. You smiled to yourself.

Javier sat at his desk and wondered how long you would be. It was a struggle that morning to do his pants up, and now that he was even more bloated and full, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get them done up again. He sat back in his chair and sucked in his belly and tried to get them done up, not realizing how loud his grunting had gotten as he struggled.

You heard him, and you grabbed the open box of chocolates, got up, and went to the doorway. At first, you weren’t sure what you were watching, all you knew was you wanted to be a part of it. It dawned on you that Javier was struggling to get his pants done up, belly heaving and pulling on those poor buttons on his shirt. Catching him in such a vulnerable position had you feeling confident with the upper hand in this situation.

“Need some help, Agent Peña?” You barely recognized the honey-toned voice that came from your mouth.

He sat back up and looked at you while he panted, and his face went red.

“I... uh... I just... fuck.”, he sputtered.

His eyes were wide looking at you, almost pleading, and you swore you were no longer in control of your own body as you walked into his office and around his desk, leaning on it while you faced him.

“You need to get some better fitting clothes, Agent Peña.”, you cooed.

He scowled back at you and huffed, “Sweetheart...”, he said in a warning tone.

“Agent Peña.”, you cooed again. “… your shirt’s getting snug and those pants aren’t happening.”

He eyed you, and from the angle he was sitting at, he could see the swell of your breast between the buttons of your blouse, and he licked his lips. He sat back and looked at you. You raised your brow at him as you saw how distended his belly really was.

“Oh my… you weren’t whistling dixie when you said you already ate.”, you pointed out in a teasing tone, poking him with the box of chocolaty nuts. “You too full or you want some chocolate?”

He looked at you and scowled again, his tone sounding irritated, “Hey! You don’t get to come in here and - “

You cut him off by pushing one of the chocolates in his mouth. He grunted in response but made no move to stop you.

“Don’t get cranky, Peña. I’ll leave you be.”, you cooed and gave him a wink as you got up, tossed the box of chocolate on his desk and walked out of his office. You went back to your desk and collected your jacket and purse.

“See you in the morning, Agent Peña.”, you called out as you walked out the door.

Javier sat at his desk stunned for a few moments. He thought whatever holiday you had brought you back a new woman. He shoved a few chocolates in his mouth and groaned at his full belly and hard, aching cock.

*****

The next few weeks went on as normal; neither of you being brave enough to talk about the events of that evening and acted as though nothing had happened. He continued to delve into his habit with food and you continued to feed him candy and other sweets. It wasn’t until the day before a black-tie event was taking place that Javier brought in his tuxedo for you to take to the dry cleaners.

“Peña are you sure you want to wear this tux?”, you asked in an unsure tone, folding the garment bag over your arm.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”, he asked, not looking up from his desk.

“Well... are you sure it still fits?”, you raised an eyebrow as you asked.

His eyes shot up at you, and he barked, “Yes… Why the fuck wouldn’t it?”

You stared back at him, shaking your head and closing his office door before walking towards his desk.

“Peña. None of your clothes fit anymore.” Your tone was firm and direct.

“What does that mean?! My clothes fit just fine!”, he snapped, a flush creeping over his face.

“Stand up.”, you commanded as you put the garment bag over the back of the chair.

He gave a frustrated groan and huffed, then stood up. You looked him over, seeing the evidence of his food habits clearly around his middle even more than before. His waistband was strained under his protruding middle, and shirt was pulled tight over his belly, gaping between the buttons showing peeks of the undershirt below it.

You walked around the desk and stood in front of him, crossing your arms and giving him an irritated look.

“My clothes fit fine.”, Javier snapped.

“You’re really going to make me do this?”, you asked with a huff.

“Do what?”, he huffed back.

“Agent Peña, the shirt that is currently being pushed to its limit on you right now is a relaxed fit. The tux you want to wear is fitted. There is no way you’re going to get into it.”, you said, stepping forward as if to challenge him.

“It will fit me fine!”, he warned, taking a step towards you. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit!”

“Really? You’re gonna fit this”, you motion towards his belly, “into that tux?”, you spat back, taking another step towards him.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re really treading on thin fucking ice.”, he growled in a low voice, taking one final step towards you.

You were standing close enough that you could feel the heat emanating off of him. You refused to back down, keeping your arms crossed.

“Fine, Peña. Show me. Prove me wrong.”, you challenged him.

“Jesus... sweetheart, you’re a real pain in my fucking ass!”, he growled.

“This pain in your ass is making sure you look presentable tomorrow night, asshole!”, you spat back, dropping your hands to your side and clenching your fists. “Go on. Put it on.”

“Knock it off, sweetheart.”, he warned, glaring at you.

“Or what?”, you challenged, your lips curling in a sneer.

Javier’s eyes narrowed at you. Despite how enraged he was at your insubordination he couldn’t help but look you over: your heaving chest, your pouted lips in a frown, your adorable scowl. Fuck.

You saw his eyes shift over you and you shook your head and laughed, enraging him. You saw the vein in his neck twitch as he clenched his fists.

“Peña, you’re one meal away from popping out of that shirt.”, you sneered with a grin, poking his belly.

“Sweetheart…”, he growled, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him, your faces inches apart.

Before you can respond, there’s a knock at his door.

“This isn’t over, Sweetheart.”, he hissed as you scowl at him before leaving his office.

The rest of the day goes on with you both casting glances at one another’s direction. Javier occasionally looks at the garment bag you left on the back of the chair, debating whether it would be worth it to prove you wrong.

Finally, after going back and forth in his mind, he sighs and shuts his office door. He grabbed the garment bag and pulled out the jacket, putting it on. Sure, the arms feel a bit tight, as do the shoulders, but it’s nothing too bad. He smiles to himself as he pulls the rest of the tux out.

You sat at your desk, working quietly when you heard his office door close. You didn’t think much of it being more than a private phone call until you looked at your switchboard. His line was open; he wasn’t on a call. Javier was not one to close his door unless he had a reason to; you’d told him his mood was enough of a closed door to keep people out and he laughed, agreeing with your observation.

You thought better than to interrupt him and went back to work. Twenty minutes later, you got a page on your intercom.

“Yes, Agent Peña?”

“Get in my office. Now.”, he barked over the intercom.

You felt your mouth go dry, and the other people in the vicinity looked nervously away from you. You hesitated and cleared the documents from your desk.

You heard him bark “FUCK!” through the walls of the office, then his voice roared over the speaker again. “Get in my fucking office!”

You turned off the intercom and grabbed a bag of candy from your desk drawer – just in case – and headed to his office.

You knocked quietly at the door before you let yourself in. You saw the tux on the floor in front of his desk and Javier sitting with a face like a thunderclap behind his desk in his chair. His clothes looked like he’d thrown them on quickly, with his dress shirt being unbuttoned to show his white undershirt and tie open around his shoulders. 

“So… should I ask what happened?”, you questioned with a slight nervous tone at his dangerous-looking mood.

“Just… goddammit… fuck!”, he barked as he stood up. “Where the fuck is the candy?!”

“Oh my god, Peña!”, you yelled exasperated, whipping a hard candy from the bag in your hand at him. It hit him in the chest and bounced down to his desk.

“Did you just throw that at me?!”, he roared, suddenly seeming a lot more aggressive and intimidating than he’d ever been.

Your eyes went wide, realizing that you literally hucked a piece of candy at your boss.

“Shit…”, you murmured to yourself.

“Agent Peña, I…”, you started to apologize but his attitude made you rethink it, snapping at him, “Yes! Yes, I did throw candy at you!”

You both stare at each other again, and he looks like he’s going to fly into a rage at any moment.

“Jesus, you’re a fucking brat.”, he growled.

Looking at him indignantly, figuring you were already going to receive a demerit or worse, be fired. “No more than you are, you fucking asshole!”, you laughed nastily, sitting in one of the armchairs across from him.

His eyes raged like wildfire as he stared down at you sitting casually on the other side of the desk.

“Watch. Your. Mouth.”, he growled, pointing at you.

“No, you watch it, Peña.”, you smirked, enjoying this more than you should.

He stomped around the desk and stood in front of you. His stomach pulling his undershirt taut enough to see the indentation of his belly button in the stretched fabric. God, what you wouldn’t give to run your hands over it...

“You’re really trying my last fucking nerve, sweetheart.”, he said in a low, menacing growl.

“I think you’re just hungry, Peña…”, you cooed mockingly with a curled lip, deciding to go for broke. “You should eat something. Really make sure you don’t fit into that tux.”

“You’re so fucking mouthy…”, he growled again.

As much as he wanted to deny it, when you looked at him like that, it set his chest on fire and made his dick hard. It reminded him of the stress relieving properties of casual sex and made him imagine what he would do to get you whimper and cry out his name. All this because his tux didn’t fit, and he really wanted a fucking cigarette… and he really wanted you.

“So what? You know I’m right. You been eating real well, haven’t you, Peña. Too well even…”, you purred in response, looking at his belly with a raised brow. His glare grew darker.

You unwrapped one of the candies from the bag. “Here, have your candy.”, you cooed, holding it out to him.

He paused as he scowled at you, refusing to allow you the upper hand. He leaned forward, putting his hands to the arms of the chair, his face was dangerously close to yours. You could smell the fruit punch Lifesavers on his breath and your heartbeat in your throat, your cunt clenched.

“I’m not going to tell you again, sweetheart.”, he said in a low, dangerous voice. “Watch your mouth.”

You looked up at him through your lashes. “Or what?”, you breathed out, voice shaky.

He tightened his mouth and narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m gonna have to do something about that attitude of yours.”

You sucked in a breath, trying to retain your composure. You didn’t want him knowing he could have this kind of control over you, and you growled back, “Fuck you, Peña … you fat, fucking – “

He yanked you out of your chair and pushed you face down on his desk. You let out a yelp as one of his hands held you down at the base of your neck and the other hiked up your skirt around your waist.

You let out a moan, “Peña… Peña!”

“So fucking tired of you… parading this tight little body around the office… you’re a fucking tease… a mouthy, fucking tease… just begging to be fucked…”, he snarled as his fingers deftly pushing your soaked panties to the side and ran a finger through your folds.

“Oh… oh fuck you, Peña!”

He leaned forward and huskily snarled in your ear as he ripped his tie off his shoulders and shoved it in your mouth, then Javier grabbed your knee and lifted it onto his desk, opening you up further to him.

“You call me Javi when I’m gonna fuck you, sweetheart.”

He plunged a finger into you then quickly added another, thumb pressing your clit. The expertise of his fingers, the only sounds in the room were your cries muffled by the silk tie and the vulgar, wet sounds he was pulling out of your sopping cunt.

“That’s right, sweetheart… that shut your smart mouth up… you’re so fucking wet… Jesus, baby… that’s it… pussy’s been begging for me… so fucking tight… so fucking needy… listen to yourself… fucking pathetic that all I had to do was bend you over my desk and finger fuck you… and you finally shut up… finally do what I say… and not give me so much fucking grief… maybe I shouldn’t let you come…”.

You were close, but the spell was broken when he removed his fingers and hissed a cruel laugh, and you were furious. Catching him off guard, you pushed your body up and turned quickly, shoving him back. He fell into the armchair with a grunt.

“What the fuck?!”, he roared, moving to try and get up.

You brought your heeled foot to his chest and shoved him back down, ripping the tie from your mouth and throwing it on the desk.

“Sit, Peña.”, your voice low and commanding.

He let out a shaky breath and a low groan. The look he gave you was feral and challenging, and as he raised his hand to hold your ankle as if to test how much in control you really were.

“Sweetheart,”, he crooned dangerously, sitting forward and pushing against your foot. “You call me Javi when I – “

“Fuck you, Peña…”, you snapped, pushing him back once more with your foot.

He let out a dark laugh, and you dragged your heeled foot down his front, over his belly, to sit on the chair right in front of his sizable bulge in his dress pants. You nudged your foot forward gently, and Javier let out a breathy grunt and eye briefly fluttered. You raised an eyebrow and put your foot against his belly and pushed in slightly.

“Fucking cuck…”, you sneered. “Getting soft and round, Peña. Gonna keep you fat and docile… gonna - ”

He glared darkly at you and huffed out a grunt, grabbing your ankle harshly and shoving it away, causing you to fall backward against his desk, and he stood up.

Towering over you, he grabbed your thigh and hoisted you to sit on his desk, then moved a hand to the back of your neck, gripping your hair. His eyes looked black as his face came close to yours.

“I’m your fucking boss… I tell you what to do… don’t ever forget that, sweetheart.”, he growled through gritted teeth before he pushed his mouth on yours in a punishing kiss.

You grabbed his shoulders and matched his ferocity. Teeth, tongues, messy, feral, wet.

Both of you began to melt into each other’s mouths, your rage slipping into passion, into need. You grabbed at one another, not getting enough out of it, needing more connection. Bringing your hand down between your bodies, palming his belly. Feeling the softness covering the firm weight he was carrying around made you moan into his mouth as he sucked in a breath. Your hand moved further down and gripped his crotch.

Your closed eyes felt like they were going to roll back in your head with what you felt in your hand: heavy, thick, and hard, his cock felt divine. He grunted and pulled back and both of you were breathing heavily. You opened your eyes, and his face was still feral, but his eyes were softer.

“Peña…”, you moaned. “Fuck me…”

He let out a shaky chuckle and moved a to open your blouse buttons with one hand, then palmed your lace-clad tit.

“You know your manners… ask me again nicely… come on, sweetheart… not Peña, baby… you beg Javi to fuck you… beg me…”, he grunted as he rutted against your hand and slipped his hand under your lacy bra, teasing your nipple.

“Oh, fuck… Peña… Javi… please… please…fuck me, Javi… please… need – fuck! – need you… please fuck me…”

Pulling his hand out, he stood back and hoisted you back onto the desk.

“So needy… so fucking good when you remember your place, sweetheart…”, he purred.

You reached out and slid your hands down, lifting his belly slightly to unbuckle his belt and then his pants, his eyes never leaving yours. When his cock sprung free, hitting the underside of his stomach, you let out a small whimper.

“You gonna be quiet, sweetheart?... or you gonna run your mouth while I fuck you?... huh?... or will I be too much for your pretty pussy to handle?”, he grunted as you spat in your hand and began to stroke him. “Do I have to stuff your fucking mouth again?”

You were about to talk back, but his raised eyebrow with his hand fisting his cock was enough to leave you just shaking your head.

“Good girl.”

He kissed you roughly, pulling your hand off him. He pushed your panties to the side and rubbed the head of his cock through your folds. You panted a whimper, and he began to push into you. You cried out and his hand went over your mouth.

“I know, I know… you can take it, sweetheart… come on, baby… take it all… fuck… relax, sweetheart… so fucking tight… oh jesus… take it… take it… oh baby girl… yeah, honey… that’s it…”

When he was fully seated in you, he panted and grunted, trying to compose himself. You held onto his shoulders while he gripped your hips. Javier began to rock into you, slowly at first, then picked up speed. You cried out and his eyes watched out from under heavy lids as his mouth curled into a lupine sneer.

“Tell me, sweetheart… tell me… how bad you needed this… tell me… fuck… I needed you so fucking bad… always looking so good… so pretty… god… wanted you so bad… needed you, sweetheart…”

“Javi… the first time you – oh fuck! –  first time you called me sweetheart… I was fucked… I was yours… oh god, Javi!... keep going – fuck oh fuck! – right there…yes… yes…oh god… yes…… oh god… pl-please… J-Javi… need… fuck… so full…”

“Sweetheart… baby… wh-where do you want me?”

“On the pill… come in me… Javi… fucking come in me.”

He kissed you hard and your orgasm came crashing down hard. The grip your cunt had on him made him feel like you were choking his cock, and he threw his head back and let out a strangled grunt, chasing his own release.

He groaned and his thrusts became more sporadic. He came with a few husky grunts, and you fell back on the desk, Javier on top, both of you panting. His weight was pressing you down hard, your combined release was slipping out onto his desk and to the tuxedo on the floor.

“Peña…”, you panted after a few moments. “Peña… need you to get up.”

He huffed a laugh and moved off you with a groan.

He helped you up, and you both began to fix your clothing. Javier flopped into his desk chair and popped a candy into his mouth. You put his errant tuxedo back into the garment bag.

“Peña,”, you smiled. He looked up at you, his eyes warm in his post-coital haze.

You dropped the garment bag over the armchair and walked around his desk. He turned his chair to look at you and you sat sidesaddle on his lap. His hand came up to your waist.

“About the tux…”

He shook his head and pressed a kiss to your decolletage. “I know… I know, sweetheart.”

You nodded and leaned into him, running your hands over his belly with your head on his shoulder.

“I mean, I can’t wear a cum-stained tuxedo to this gala…”

“Jesus, Peña! No you can’t wear a tux that doesn’t fit you!”

You pushed on his belly, and he laughed out loud.

Read the Mini-Scene requested by @toxicanonymity here

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

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

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #chubby!javier pena #chubby javier peña rights !!! #narcos au #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #no y/n #you ask beefro answers #you asked beefro answered #THOT TANK #beefro is sweating #beefro's bistro #🥩 #narcos fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #a03 fanfic #ao3 writer

[beefrobeefcal]

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Dave York one shot

Dave York & Kitten: Make Me, Yorkie

Pairing: Dave York x Fem!Reader (Kitten) Summary: Dave get more than he bargains for with a playful Kitten. Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) Word Count: 2,821 Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, swearing, snack cake eating, belly stuffing, naughty Kitten business, fingering, spanking, brat taming, domestic dom/sub dynamic, p in the v, chubby teasing, light degradation, implied consent, established relationship

Author's Notes: I promised a Dave-&-Kitten-Cookie fic way back in 2023 (okay, it was only a few weeks ago), and while there aren't Christmas cookies, Dave does has his fill. This started out as a Frankie & Mouse one shot, but I felt Dave energy trying to come out. Thank you to @softpascalito & @umnitsa for beta'ing the first draft. Thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for beta'ing the final draft. This is dedicated to our resident Dave York apologist, @theywhowriteandknowthings - beef 💜 knowy

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

“Oh Dave… do you know where all the cookies went for the neighbourhood bake sale?”, you cooed, reaching forward from your seat at the kitchen table and poking his belly. “Oof baby… look at how big you’re getting.”

*****

Dave was in a bad mood. He’d had a terrible day at work, and he’d come home to an empty house with unlabeled – and unsupervised – cookies in the pantry.

You’d spent most of the day baking and prepping for the neighborhood bake sale, waiting patiently for him to get home, only to receive a text halfway through the afternoon, stating that he was having “the shittiest day”. You knew he didn’t send texts like these lightly, and you braced yourself, purposely putting aside a dozen or so cookies in the pantry for him as a treat. But by the time you’d returned from dropping off your baked contributions at the neighbour’s house, you walked in to see Dave with his dress shirt pulled unreasonably tight across his now full belly with his belt undone.

While Dave was trying to behave and resist treating himself regularly in the pantry, you knew he wasn’t winning that battle, given that his middle had filled out enough that it was more than the softer middle you’d grown accustom to that would become a little more when he ate; Dave now had a belly that was apparent whether he’d eaten or not and you’d only just recently sized up his wardrobe over Christmas because of it.

With a sly glint in your eye, you made the decision to have some fun tonight.

You gave him several chances to admit he ate the cookies, but he didn’t budge. So, because you were playing dumb to his refusal to come clean, you dutifully served him a full, hearty dinner. The whole time he shoveled food into his face, you teased him, getting in the odd tummy poke here and bratty remark there.

“Oh Dave… do you know where all the cookies went for the neighbourhood bake sale?”, you cooed, reaching forward from your seat at the kitchen table and poking his belly. “Oof baby… look at how big you’re getting.”

Dave let out a huff in response, trying to ignore you as he sat next to you, scrolling through his phone. Standing up, you leaned over his shoulder from behind him and kissed his neck.

“You’re gonna need some new clothes again soon. Been eating too well lately and it shows”, you grinned against his skin, smoothing your hands over his middle, curling a finger into one of the puckered openings between his shirt buttons. “Look at your poor shirt!”

“Knock it off, Kitten.”, he grunted, shrugging you off him before bringing his closed fist to his mouth to stifle a burp.

His refusal to play with you left you feeling a little hurt, but it mainly left you feeling pent up and needy for his attention. And the thought of him being too full to deal with you acting up made you squeeze your thighs together as you watched him hold his aching belly as he walked out to the den.

Dave sat back heavily on the couch, almost painfully full. And now, on top of his frustration over work, he was uncomfortable and bloated after eating his whole dinner to not look like the guilty party, trying to stifle belly-shifting hiccups. He thought he’d get some peace once he was on the couch, but he then let out an irritated sigh when he heard you making your way to the den.

“Dave?”, you called out in a singsong voice.

“Jesus Christ…”, he muttered under his breath, rubbing his face.

“Dave baby?”

“Not now!”, he snapped, not looking away from the tv.

You walked around in front of him, blocking his view of the tv, and you smiled mischievously at him. He gave you a glare with a tight mouth and shook his head.

“So you’re meaning to be a pain in the ass, aren’t you?”

“You’re being cranky… didn’t even give me a kiss when you got home.”

“I’m not doing this with you, Kitten. I’m-“

“Ma’am.”, you corrected him, challenging him for control.

“No…”, he warned, his eyes boring into you and his mouth pulled tight into a scowl.

“Excuse me?”

Your harsh snap back at him caught him off guard.

“You’re really asking for it. Do not make me get up off this couch.”

“David… you’re not getting off that couch any time soon.”, you purred, moving slowly towards him. Your head nodded towards his bloated middle. “What you got in there?”

He rolled his eyes, not taking the bait. “You fucking know what it is! You made it and served it to me!”

He shifted in his seat and winced, hand going to his belly.

“Awe, Dave got greedy and now he’s got a tummy ache.”, you cooed in a mock-pout. You stood above him and smirked. “Look at you. How much weight do you think you’ve put on in the last month? You really treated yourself over Christmas… Just bought you that shirt and it’s already getting too small, honey.”

His brown eyes looked like molten copper from the rage you incited; you were really hitting his buttons and it only made you bolder.

“Do not do this, Kitten. I am not playing. I had a shitty day, and-“

“Did you enjoy all those cookies? It looks like you did…”, you interrupted in a soft, smug voice, nodding your head to his middle.

“Last warning.”, he growled.

 “You’re too fat and full to do anything about it.”

“Knock. It. Off.”, he snarled through his clenched teeth. “Behave! I fucking mean it!”

A grin spread across your face, and you licked your lips.

“Make me, Yorkie.”

“Oh, you fucking brat! You’re gonna get it.”

His harsh tone mixed with huffing and grunting to stand up made your knees feel weak, and you backed away. When Dave stood, his heavy middle made him lose his balance and he fell back onto the couch with a grunt. The force caused a few of his buttons to pop open on his shirt and you covered your mouth to hold back your giggles.

“Getting pretty big, Yorkie.”

He raised a warning eyebrow and pointed at you. “Hey!”

You couldn’t help it. The flames in his eyes were addicting and you needed more. “Like I said before, you’re eating too well … you filled out and now you’re just getting fat…”

His breath hitching and his pupils dilating didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it emboldened you further. You stood your ground and didn’t move towards him yet, knowing that he’d take any chance to grab you and set you right back in place if you got too close.  

“Think your coworkers notice all the weight you’ve put on? Think they talk about how heavy you’re getting? Think they notice how you’re growing, making your clothes pull tight?”

His breathing had picked up as his hand moved across his underbelly and palmed his crotch, trying to adjust his too-tight pants over his erection.

“Fuck…”, he panted through gritted teeth. “I outta fuck that mouth to get rid of that attitude.”

“Like to see you try… too full and fat now to even get off the couch.”

That seemed to be the ignition for him. He let out a grunt and hoisted his large frame up from the couch. You felt your cunt clench at watching him and you began to breath shallowly through your mouth.

His eyes were dark and ripped right through you, and you swallowed thickly, managing to whimper out, “Dave? … baby?”

It only took him a few quick steps and he was towering over you.

“Not so tough now, are you?”

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. You could feel your core drooling and Dave watched your eyes glaze over as they stared up at him.

“What was it you said? I’m ’too fat and full to get off the couch’? Didn’t get that right?”

You didn’t know Dave could move that fast. Before you could answer, he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him. He fell back to his spot on the couch, pulling you down with him. You had no idea how you ended up across his lap as he sat back on the couch, his large hand shoving your dress up over your ass.

“Fucking brat. All I want is a quiet night on the couch after a shitty fucking day and you’re just doing the most to piss me off.”, he growled.

You squirmed on his lap, his belly pressing heavily against your side. He shoved his hand between your legs, and you whined.

“I fucking knew it! You’re soaked. This pussy’s just begging to take a beating, isn’t it?”, he snarled, pressing harsh circles against your clothed clit. “You get off on making me mad, Kitten?”

“Fuck! Dave! Please!”

“Please what? You got my attention now, Kitten. You can’t handle it? What else d’you want from me?”

You yelped when you felt a sharp sting on your backside. You turned and looked at him, shock written all over your face.

“David! Did you just fucking spank me?”

“I asked you a question.”, he said sternly.

“I thought you were just gonna finger me and-“

Despite the scowl planted on his face, the look in his eyes was begging for this. You gave him a small nod in agreement. Another sharp sting from his palm landing on your ass.

“I said I asked you a question.”

When you yelped out at the last smack, he smoothed his palm over your reddened skin, his tone shifting low and menacing.

“Come on, baby… you got my attention… now be a good girl and answer my question. What else do you want from me, kitten?”

And there it was. He was finally in the ring, towering over you and ready to spar. It lit your insides on fire and your core throbbed. You let out a staggered breath and croaked out, “Just… just want… you… your attention… don’t wanna be ignored.”

“My baby’s feeling ignored, huh? Probably because she’s being a little shit and not behaving…”

“I tried!”, you whimpered. “I made cookies and had some saved just for you! I… I just wanted-“

His hand guiding your leg off his lap, opening your clothed core to him. He cupped your mound in his hand, massaging it gently. It stopped you from finishing your sentence and you whimpered instead.

“Go on, Kitten…”

“I just wanted to make you- ugh!”

“I thought I was being pretty clear that tonight was not a good night for your bratty bullshit. Yeah, you made a good dinner, but your attitude is way out of line. Trying to make me feel bad about how much I enjoy your cooking and baking. S’not nice, baby...”

“I-I’m sorry!”, you whined in response.

He spanked you a few more times, the final one coming down a little harder. Each one forced a yelp from you between panting breaths and you rutting your hips on nothing. His cock was hardening under you, pushing against your hip.

You suddenly felt your panties pull harshly against your hipbones then snap off, and Dave tossed them to the side. His middle and index finger dove into your folds.

“So fucking wet… Jesus, Kitten… you’re a needy fucking brat…”

You wriggled your hips, begging for more friction against his fingers.

“Such a bad girl… getting me fat and thinking I’m slow… feeding me till I’m too fucking stuffed to get off the couch? Then you give me attitude about how big you made me?”

His tone was slipping into his usual ‘dominant’ voice, and it was almost too much mixed with his adept fingers and the soreness of your backside.

“I know you just love it… thinking you’re in control when you heap plate after plate in front of me… thinking you can feed me until I’m pliant and yours to fuck around with… no such luck, baby.”

He pushed two fingers into your weeping hole and began to pound into you relentlessly. Your back arched as you cried out.

“Yeah, baby… this is what you needed, isn’t it.”, Dave snarled through his clenched jaw, continuing his relentless pace. You could feel that the bulge from before was now almost painfully digging into your hip bone – the fact he was enjoying this so much made you love it even more. You let out panting moans as your walls began to clench on his digits.

“Oh god-fuck!… I’m-oh fuck!”

He ripped his hand away from you and another spank landed on your backside, stinging further from his wet-with-your-slick hand. You cried out and buried your tear-streaked face into the arm rest.

“You gonna behave?”, he barked as he pulled your hair back, forcing you to look at him.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll behave!”, you cried out. “Please Dave!”

“You done being a brat?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes, I am!”

“Stand up.”

You shakily pushed yourself up off his lap, and his hands came to steady you. You looked at him, your cheeks flushed and damp, lips pouted, and you sucked in a small sob.

“There’s my kitten.”, he smiled menacingly, looking you over and the mess he’d made of you. “So fucking desperate. What am I gonna do with you?”

“Fuck me and let me come!”, you huffed back. God, you wanted him to keep this up. 

“Mind your manners!”

His voice was dark and his eyes even darker as he drank you in. Fuck, you needed him in the worst way. His hand came up and gently touched your chin before his hand went around your neck, pushing your back against the wall. His other hand went to his belt, unsuccessfully trying to undo it to get his pants off. His intensity in his eyes started to melt, giving way to desperation.

“Dammit!”, he grunted, removing his other hand from your throat and you moved forward to help.

“No baby… please… fuck, just stay there… j-just act like you’re pinned…”, Dave pleaded, eyes wide and screaming with arousal as he tried sucking in his belly.

You did as you were told, keeping yourself against the wall, watching as he fumbled with his pants, finally getting them down around his thick thighs, his boxer-briefs barely containing his rock hard, leaking cock. His hand went right back to your throat, and he mashed his face into yours in a fevered kiss. He kept your mouth locked onto his as he pulled you away from the wall, only breaking to turn you around and push you over one of the large standing speakers that framed the TV. Without warning, Dave spat into his hand and freed his cock, pumped it a few times, then ran the head through your folds. He finally pushed into you, making you keen and grip the speaker.  

“Fuuuuuck…”, he breathed as he seated himself deep within you. “God dammit…”, he hissed as he began pounding into you. “I needed this, baby.”

“Oh god- Dave! So big… fuck!”

“Good girl… come on, Kitten… come for me…”, he grunted. “Touch your clit, baby… play with it… not-not gonna last long…”

“Da-David…”, you whined, as your fingers rubbed circles on your nub, thrusting you just enough to fall over the edge. You panted erratically as your long-time-coming release ripped through you, making your walls clench and spasm around him.

He let out a groan. “Good girl… good fucking girl…” and kept pounding into you. He was beginning to falter in his pace, and his breaths were coming out in short, hurried pants. He pulled back from you, jerking his cock, and came on your reddened ass cheeks.

You were slumped over the speaker, breathing hard, when you heard Dave fall back onto the couch, making it groan and creak under his sudden weight.

sp

“Hey… baby?”, he panted. “You good, Kitten?”

You pushed yourself upright, feeling your dress sticking to his release on your backside.

“You dick.”

He looked up at you with a raised eyebrow in warning. “Excuse me?”

“You spanked me and came on my ass!”

“Yeah? And where did it get me? Panting and fat on a couch… you still got an attitude.”, he huffed out in a laugh.

“Guess you’ll have to try harder next time.”

You tried keeping an angry front, but failed as you sat down on his lap, smearing his spend on his bare thighs. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close to him as you fell into a fit of giggles.

“Fuck, if I try any harder, I’ll pop a seam or come in my pants.”

You grinned and then giggled again, “Please, Dave - try harder!”

He laughed and pressed a kiss you your forehead. “You’re such a shit. Behave!”

“Make me, Yorkie.”

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd  @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @tightjeansjavi

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal tummy #pedro pascal fanfiction #chubby!dave york #chubby dave rights !!! #you asked beefro answered #you ask beefro answers #thot tank #beefro's bistro #🥩

[beefrobeefcal]

Dieter Measures Up feat. Dieter Bravo & Cookie (f!reader)

a HeftyThrowaway one shot drabble | Rated: 18+ | word count: 834 warnings: weight gain, grinding, Dieter being a needy mess A/N: thank you @toxicanonymity for celebrating 900 friendos in the bistro! and yes... this is a bit more than a drabble.

Dieter groaned. He looked over the email from his manager, suggesting in the firmest way possible that wouldn’t compromise their job, that he needed to wear an actual suit to the premier. To add to his grief, they put in bold right at the end before signing off: YOU ARE NOT WEARING ANYTHING REMOTELY RESEMBLING SOMETHING YOU COULD SLEEP IN.

Included in the message was also the requirement to get fitted for the suit because they knew he hadn’t lost any of the weight he’d gained for the role. Rolling his eyes, he flipped the bird at his phone, tossed it into the pocket of his robe, and pulled the tube of raw cookie dough from the fridge. He forwent the spoon, taking a big bite of the dough, and leaned over the counter thinking.

An idea hit him: he could just send the measurements that were taken when he arrived on set to shoot ten months ago. He smiled as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his notes before it dawned on him that he had to be measured and then remeasured a few times over the course of the shoot because his costumes kept shrinking. As he wondered who he needed his assistant to contact to track down the measurements, another email arrived from his management team: DON’T ASK FOR PRIOR MEASUREMENTS. THEY WON’T BE ACCURATE ANYMORE.

He scowled at his screen. “Mother fucker.”

*****

It had been a while since he’d been to a tailor, normally opting for off the rack because prior to this role, he was within the sample size range. He was pretty sure he still was. Sure, he had less of the iconic ‘slutty little waist’ and sure, his belly had stuck out when he wasn’t close to being full, but there was no way he was that much bigger.

At least he thought that until the seamstress, an older European woman, came out and began to measure him. Every time he felt the measuring tape pull tight against his body followed by the older woman calling out a number much higher than he anticipated, his body reacted. Not negatively – no, quite the opposite. He was getting hard.

Even after the project wrapped, he kept you on as his private cook, telling you that now he’d had a bite of his ‘Cookie’, there was no way he could have any other. And while nothing was official between you, he hadn’t fucked around with anyone else, and even cleared out his extensive vintage clown pornography collection from the guesthouse and set you up in there so you could live on sight. He loved the praise you gave when he finished his meals and he craved the look you gave when he sat back, belly heavy and sitting on his lap.

He needed to get home. Now.

****

You stood at the door to the pantry, debating on whether to make burritos or chicken korma for dinner that evening when you heard the door from the garage open and slam loudly. Before you could ask if everything was okay, Dieter was behind you, shoving you against the wall, his front to your back.

“Fuck, you do your job so good.”, he grunted, biting softly into your neck. His whole thick body pinned you and he bucked his hips, seeking friction.

“Most bosses offer a raise… not a full body slam.”, you breathed back with a smile.

“Most bosses…”, he panted, “aren’t grateful… enough.”

“Dieter… we can go to the bedro-“

“No… right… oh fuck… right here’s fine…”, he grunted with a whine. He ground his hips, and his painfully hard erection finally found the right angle against your left ass cheek.

“Dee! The couch! Not here!”

His breathing picked up and he bit the crux of your neck and shoulder with a whine. “Just… almost… need this…”

 You pushed your body from the wall with all your strength, but it was no use; Dieter’s additional weight had made his physical self just as stubborn as his personality.

“Got me so… fuckin’ big… Olga… measured me… no idea… who I was… said I was a… a fat man…”, he whimpered in grunts, breath panting over the skin he’s made wet on your neck and shoulder.

You couldn’t help but moan in response, and his arm snaked around to your front, cupping your legging clad mound, and pulling your ass against him harder. It was almost painful, but also euphoric. Dieter’s breaths became faster and carried high pitch whines with them.

“I promise… I’ll fuck… I’ll fuck you later… after dinner… just need… to cum n-oh fuck!”

You felt a warmth through your leggings on your ass cheek and his whines hit heights that only dogs could hear. When he finally stilled, his body relaxed enough that you could turn around and face him. He gave you a goofy half grin with heavy lidded eyes.

“Now that we got that out of the way, I’m starved. What’s for dinner?”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal tummy #pedro pascal fanfiction #you ask beefro answers #thot tank #you asked beefro answered #dieter bravo #chubby!dieter #dieter x cookie #hefty hefty hefty #900 friendo celebration #��

[beefrobeefcal]

💖💖

✨tummy✨

you know what? this man deserves to just let loose and let his fat flag fly.

COME ON PEEPAW! COME SEE ME. I MAKE A MEAN OATMEAL RAISIN COOKIE AND A WICKED ASS RACK OF RIBS. EAT YOUR FILL OF CHICKEN WINGS, BABY! NOBODY IS GONNA STOP YOU IN BEEFRO'S HOUSE!

Yours in sin,

Beefro👌🥩💜

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #you ask beefro answers #thot tank #you asked beefro answered #🥩 #beefro is trash for fat pedro

[beefrobeefcal]

did you see pedros ass in that one photo??!!??! where did that come from,????

you mean this, Nonnie?

Whatever has happened to make Peepaw caked up, I’m here for it.

I-like-big-butts regards,

Beefro👌🥩💜

#beefro is trash for caked up pedro #beefro is trash for pedro #beefro is trash for fat pedro #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #you ask beefro answers #thot tank #you asked beefro answered #🥩

[beefrobeefcal]

Sketch of dark!Frankie…probably could have made him bigger oof

EMERGENCY: CLASS IS BACK IN SESSION!

Attention class! @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @covetyou @thehalflifeofloveisforever @pedroshotwifey @maryrhodalouandted @gwendibleywrites

@yahtiwakitakos has made a submission!

discuss.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #pedro pascal tummy #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #chubby frankie rights !!!!! #THOT TANK #🥩 #beefro' s class #you asked beefro answered #beefro is sweating #dark!frankie morales #dark!frankie still chubby though #dark!frankie au #dark!frankie still chubby though #you ask beefro answers #beefro is blessed #takos art

[beefrobeefcal]

Quick Frankie based on your recent one shot

I CANNOT. I CANT. I… I… *disconcerting beefro kazoo symphonic sounds*

FraNKiE tUmMy….

Thank you, @yahtiwakitakos I AM IN AWE!!!! Y’all pls throw your hands together for this work of art!!!

The fact you captured the smile & his whole proud demeanor just earns the cockles of my cold dead heart 💜🥩💜🥩💜

It’s-a-little-bit-funny-this-feeling-inside regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

#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 !!!!! #thot tank #Beefro’s bistro #🥩 #you asked beefro answered #Beefro is blessed #takos art