#beefro is sweating

[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.”

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @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 @jennaispunk @tightjeansjavi @rubyfruitjungle @lilmizmoz @strang3lov3 @pedroshotwifey @harryleatherfit @bitchesuntitled

[beefrobeefcal]

literally me when my IRL people ask me. when did you take this photo of me?

“Oh my god you’re a writer? Can I read your stuff?”

[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

[beefrobeefcal]

[beefrobeefcal]

*lots of gladiator 2 content coming out. pedro is everywhere.*

pedro: for the glory of rome. if i were 20 yrs younger. *plays clarinet*

me:

[beefrobeefcal]

this screams Frankie & Mouse.

[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.

[beefrobeefcal]

the GUMPTION that clint has given me is UNHINGED

[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----------

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TAGLIST:

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

[beefrobeefcal]

Join me in sin!

Joel… what the hell? Now I gotta get some lingerie?!? 👙😭🥵🫠👌

VS

Summary: Yours and Joel’s newest patrol task is exploring the old mall not far from Jackson. You learn what Victoria’s Secret really is. (She was NOT having an affair with former president of the United States Colonel Sanders) AKA grumpy cranky joel and you get down and dirty in an old Victoria’s Secret.

A/N: @gracieispunk believed I could so I did. This is my love letter to her <3 she helped me out big time. She knows what she did 😉

Edit: this is part 1 of my new series “Mall Rats”

Warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, doin it in front of a mirror (thanks gracie!), reverse cowgirl, joel is a dick, joel is condescending, reader is charming just like me, Joel does all the work because reader is a lady and Joel is an asshole.

W/C: 4.7k

“Weird looking stairs,” you mumble as you take in the unique environment. Beneath your feet are metallic steps with deep lined grooves, in front of you is Joel, stepping down the staircase. In the enclosed building, the walls are lined with different shops, there’s a few different seating areas. Old posters, advertisements. Colorfully painted walls are overgrown with roots and vines. 

“S’cause they’re not regular stairs,” Joel says with a gruff voice. “S’called an escalator. Didn’t have to walk up and down the steps, you could stay stationary and it’d move ya up an’ down.”

“Sounds cool.”

“No,” Joel mutters. “Not cool.”

None of this is cool to Joel. In fact, it’s the opposite. 

Tommy and his crew had stumbled across this mall while on patrol. Of course they couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but they deemed it largely safe of infected. He wasn’t sure how picked over it was, but he figured it would be a good task for you and your curious mind. Comb it through for supplies, clothing, entertainment. Take notes and report back to him. 

So what was Joel there for?

To chaperone you, of course. Keep you out of trouble, keep you safe, answer your million and one questions. 

It was Tommy’s sick and twisted idea of a joke. Joel’s new patrol project involved two of the things he disdained the most: Malls, and you.

 Comedy gold.

“No,” you mock his tone with a silly face, “Not cool.”

Joel rolls his eyes and ignores you. When you reach the bottom of the steps, he looks at his surroundings as he reaches in his bag for his flashlight. Turning it on he says, “We’ll start down here and work our way up. Scope everything out, get familiar. Then you can start combing through the stores for supplies and what have you. You stick by me. No wanderin’.”

“Don’t you mean we?” you ask. “We comb through the stores.”

“No, sweetheart, I don’t. S’your job, not mine. I’m just here to keep ya from gettin’ killed.”

Whatever. Joel can bitch and moan about this all he wants, but you’re grateful for the opportunity to explore the infinite wonders of the mall. It’s not like you’ve got much else to do. You’re indoors, safe from the elements and infected. You’re not complaining. 

You reach into your own bag and pull out your flashlight. You turn it on, and the light flickers dimly. You smack it with your palm a couple times before the light finally goes out, then turn to Joel with a sweet smile on your face. “You wouldn’t happen to have a couple extra–”

“You’re lucky I do,” Joel glares at you as he digs through his belongings to find a couple of double A batteries in his pack. You hold out your hand and he begrudgingly drops the batteries in your palm. “Quit fuckin’ around. Be prepared next time.” He’s certainly jolly today. 

You replace the batteries and turn your flashlight on, and begin to make your way through the bottom level of the mall. Joel’s said nothing since giving you the batteries. 

“So what did you do here? Or, not here specifically. Just like, malls in general,” you ask as you make your way through tables and chairs. A big sign on a nearby wall informs you that this area is called the food court. 

“I did nothing. Malls were always packed with people, way too busy. Too many teenagers. Expensive too,” Joel scrunches his nose as he catches a whiff of something foul at an old hot dog stand. “But other people, they’d come here and shop for clothes, get somethin’ to eat. Could catch a movie f’ya wanted.”

“So where’d you get your clothes from?”

Joel shrugs. “Dunno. Just kinda always had them in my dresser, I guess.”

Sounds like Joel. 

There’s a Panda Express, something called Auntie Anne’s that you and Joel are looking through together. He’s eyeing the cooking equipment and you’re baffled as you stare at a five gallon drum of nacho cheese on the floor.

“That cheese is probably still good,” Joel comments. 

“You’re joking.”

“It ain’t the real cheese like we got back in Jackson. Auntie Anne’s was a pretzel shop, lotta people would dip ‘em in that cheese.”

Auntie Anne’s doesn’t have much to offer, so you and Joel move right along. Next stop is Kentucky Fried Chicken. You point to the man on the logo. “Who’s that?”

“Colonel Sanders. He was the president way back when.”

You know better. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Sure he was,” Joel says. “You weren’t there. You don’t know.”

He’s such a dick. You roll your eyes and leave him and Colonel Sanders to their own devices as you walk through the rest of the food court. 

Joel doesn’t realize you’d left. He tells you another Kentucky Fried Fun Fact and when he’s met with no answer, he looks up to find you at Cinnabon at the end of the food court. 

He makes his way to you then kicks you with his boot. “Didn’t I tell you to stay next to me?”

You ignore his question and ask him your own. “What’s Cinnabon?”

“M’serious,” he says. “No more wanderin’.”

“Yeah, yeah. No wanderin’.” you mock his Southern accent once more. But more importantly, you demand answers. “Tell me about Cinnabon.” 

“They’re just cinnamon rolls. Cinnamon. Bun. S’in the name, genius.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t like those much either, then.”

“Actually, they were pretty good. Big and gooey, covered in icing. You were supposed to split ‘em with someone but I never did.”

“Ah, right. You and your sweet tooth,” You smile. 

“I don’t have a sweet tooth,” Joel lies. “Keep movin’.”

So you do. There’s a lemonade stand here and there, but mostly shops now. A bookstore, jewelry stores. Something called “Wet Seal”. You ask Joel what it is, to which he replies “Fuck if I know.”

A shoe store has piqued Joel’s interest. He’s looking for a new pair of boots as you stare out the window of the shop, wondering who the hell Victoria is and what secret she’s hiding. Joel taps you on the arm to tell you to follow him as he leaves the shoe store.

“What’s Victoria’s Secret?”

“Oh,” Joel says. “Nothin’. We don’t need to go there.”

Oof. Bad move, Joel. Now you have to find out what the deal is with Victoria’s Secret. You take off for the store, ignoring Joel’s orders to stick by his side. “Did she have a secret affair with President Colonel Sanders?”

“No, god dammit. Get back here. We ain’t goin’.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t wanna.”

But you do. So you ignore his bitching and approach the store, stopping when you realize exactly what kind of store it is. “Oh.”

Joel catches up to you. “Mhm,” he mumbles. “S’just underwear. Now c’mon, I’m tired of chasin’ ya.”

“No way,” you argue. “I need new underwear. I’m actually going commando right now, so this is perfect.”

 Joel makes a face like he’s in pain and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ. Boundaries.”

You don’t believe in TMI. 

You enter the store, entranced by the women in the photos and the black sparkly floor. There’s a big table with panties laid on top, drawers underneath that indicate sizing. You open the drawers with your size and begin sifting through the underwear. All different styles, patterns, colors. Way cuter than the few you have back in Jackson. 

You pick out a few different pairs. Brown with pink polka dots, pink with red roses. Some bikini styles, some boyshorts. You hold up a white pair with lace and a little blue flower sewn on the center of the waistband. “Joel, look! Aren’t these cute?”

“Just adorable,” he mumbles without bothering to actually look. If his voice were any more full of sarcasm he’d choke. Joel keeps his eyes firm on the ground, like he’s being intimidated by the mannequins and their threatening panties. You giggle and he shoots you a warning look. 

You look for a few more pairs, then find a few pairs that look a little different. You hold one up, trying to figure out which side you put your legs through. When you look at the nearly bare-assed woman in the advertisement that reads 5 for $20 above you, you realize how it’s meant to be worn. Oh, you think. Neato. You stuff a few of the thongs in your bag. Could be fun. 

Joel’s still behind you, eyes still focused on the floor, off in his own, prudish little world. You wonder what he’s thinking. There’s a fire engine red thong in the drawer, with sparkles and lace. You know, the works. And you know it’ll be just perfect for a special someone. “Hey, Joel. Found some for you.”

“Not interested.”

You loop the thong over your index finger and pull back with your other hand, then shoot it at Joel like it’s a hair tie. It hits him square on his nose and he catches it in his hand, then throws it on the ground as he pouts. “Alright, enough. You’re done. We’re leavin’.”

You shake your head. “Tommy said I’m in charge.”

Joel groans. “Oh, for the love of god. In charge, my ass.”

You know better than to keep arguing. So you just walk towards the bras, ignoring Joel’s voice in the background telling you to get back here. He hates it when you walk away from him when he’s speaking, so he always follows you so that you hear every last word. It works out, though. You get to do what you want, and Joel gets to give you his stern talking-to. How’s that for a compromise?

The bras are set up similarly to the panties, with different drawers for different sizes. Joel’s still going off about how you never follow orders, how you probably don’t even need any of this, you’re just doing it to get under his skin. And it’s working. Something about how when we get back to Jackson, I’m telling Tommy to take me off of patrol with y–

You interrupt. “The fuck?”

“What?”

“What does any of this mean? 30A, 30B, 32A, 34C, 34DD?” You hold up different bras and show him the tags. 

“Those are sizes, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, I gathered that, thanks. But what’s my size?”

“Why’re ya askin’ me? Just grab one so we can go. Christ almighty.” 

Men. No help at all. 

Surely a store that specializes in bras must have some sort of sizing chart or something. There’s end caps with different beauty products, you stuff a strawberry flavored lipgloss in your pocket as you search. The register might have something, you guess. And lucky you, you’re right. Under the counter are a few measuring tapes and charts. 

Predictable Joel follows you, of course. He says nothing as you read through the instructions. First wrap around your back, under your armpits and just above your bust. That’s your band size. Then do the same with your bust, and subtract the band size from the bust. There’s your A, B, C, D and so on.

You take off your hoodie and stand in just a tank top, no bra. When you said commando, you meant it. Joel watches you as you wrap the measuring tape around yourself. 

“Sweetheart,” Joel interrupts, and he sounds exhausted. “What are you doin’.”

“Making you a Cinnabon, what’s it look like?” you mumble with your chin smushed into your neck as you try to read the numbers on the tape. 

And Joel thought Ellie was annoying. 

You’ve got the measuring tape twisted and tangled behind you, and you don’t even realize it. The inner contractor in Joel can’t bear to watch any more of this fuckery. “Give me that,” he spits, yanking the measuring tape away from your body. “You’re useless.”

Joel looks over the directions for a moment before tapping your arms. You lift up, he wraps the measuring tape properly around your body. There’s a nearby pen and he scribbles the number down, then lowers the measuring tape, his thumbs skating over the clothed flesh of your breasts. Your nipples harden as his fingers brush them accidentally. 

And you thought the thong you shot at Joel was red. It doesn’t even begin to compare to the shade of crimson Joel’s face turns as he realizes what he’s done. Quickly, he drops the measuring tape and writes down the second number and your bra size. “Ther-” his voice cracks and he clears his throat. “There. Go find your bra. Then we’re leavin’, and I’m not arguin’ this time.”

You smirk at his vocal mishap. “Okay. But I have to try them on first.”

“You never make things easy for me, do you?”

Joel follows you as you look for a few different bras in your size. You pick out a few that match your panties, and a few others. There’s a silky black bra with so much memory foam padding that it rivals your pillow at home. Again, perfect for your special someone. 

Joel’s smelling different perfumes when you sidle up to him and lay the bra on his head, the large cups sitting on either side of his scalp. “Mickey Mouse,” you tell him.

Joel glares at you as he removes the bra and drops it on the floor. “You are giving me a fuckin’ aneurysm.” 

You look pleased with yourself, which only makes him more pissed off. But the table next to Joel catches your eye. There’s a pretty satin babydoll dress, with a matching pair of panties. It’s a nice light pink color, with pretty floral lace. “Hmm.” you mumble, thinking to yourself.

Joel watches your eyes leave his face as you become distracted. “What?” he turns his attention toward where your vision is focused. “Oh. Nope. You don’t need that.”

 “Why not?”

“You said you needed underwear. S’lingerie. All them frills and lace…” Joel trails off.

“I think it’d be nice for a date night.”

Joel’s jaw clenches slightly. “I do not envy the poor bastard who takes you home,” he says. He’s probably just annoyed, at his wit’s end with you. Probably not jealous. Definitely not jealous. “But guys don’t give a shit what you’re wearin’, honey. Just wanna get what’s underneath. S’a waste of time.”

You shrug and grab your size in the lingerie anyway. Then you take off towards the dressing rooms to try everything on. You enter the first room on the right, and Joel sits at a bench directly across, just a few feet away from you. 

You try on a couple of bras and feel pleased when they fit and support you. They make the girls sit pretty, too.

You take off the bra and eye the pretty babydoll and its matching bottom. So you try it on, and it’s gorgeous. It frames you nicely, sits right above your ass to show off the panties. You admire yourself in the mirror for a while before deciding you’ll save it for a date night. Fuck what Joel says. Maybe he doesn’t like lingerie, but that doesn’t mean you can’t. 

Things are going smoothly until you try to unhook the babydoll in the back. It’s stuck or something. You fidget with it for a second, accidentally smacking your elbow against one of the dressing room walls in the process. 

“Y’alright in there?” Joel calls out to you.

“Fine, just uh…” You step out of the dressing room. “Need your help with the hook in the back. It’s stuck.”

Joel looks like a deer in the headlights when you stand before him, clad in your pink satin babydoll and matching panties. You leave the changing room door open, Joel stares at your ass on the mirror attached to it. He’s all flustered, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Lord have mercy.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re not a lingerie guy.”

Joel swallows thickly. “I don’t know about that, exactly.”

“No?” You raise an eyebrow. Joel, suddenly a man of few words. How much nicer he is when he’s quiet, you think. “How about you unhook it so I can change?”

“Yeah I could uh…do that.” Joel stands up, then carefully holds the straps of your dress between his fingers. His featherlight touch leaves goosebumps on your shoulders. “Shouldn’t be wearin’ this. It’s very impractical.” 

“I know, Joel. You mentioned that.”

His hands trail lower down the straps, his fingers resting against your skin. “Uh huh. Cheap material…could get torn very easily f’ya aren’t careful.”

And then his fingers are moving up the straps again. He places two hands on your hips and turns you around, fingers skating across your ass cheeks. You feel his body step closer to yours, his hot breath on your neck as he whispers, “M’sure it's not stitched too good. Probably not easy to clean, either.” He catches you off guard when you look at yourself in the mirror. He’s staring intently at the reflection of your body, then his eyes flicker to yours.

“Right,” you agree. 

Joel’s scanning your body again, observing how the fabric falls around your curves just so. He looks hungry, like the moment you peel your eyes from him he’ll devour you.

“Are you gonna take it off of me?” He ignores your question as he pinches the bottom of your babydoll between his fingers, the soft satin tickling your skin as he moves the fabric. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon. I’m gettin’ there. Be patient f’me, now.” Your stomach flutters at the low timbre of his voice, the way he purrs in your ear. Joel absolutely does not like lingerie. Not one bit, god dammit.

His eyes are darkened with lust as he sucks in a breath, admiring the way your breasts sit beneath the clothing, the way it drapes over your stomach and rests on your hips. One of the straps falls off your shoulder and he clicks his tongue. “See? S’no good.”

“Guess so,” you agree, and he places the strap back on your shoulder, his fingers lingering for a moment too long as he contemplates his next move.

“Closer,” he pulls your hand towards himself, and you step backward. He lets his hands slide down your body over the lingerie and you watch him frown in the mirror, his hands stopping when he reaches the bottom of your dress. “N’it covers up all these pretty curves…” Joel lifts up the fabric, inspecting the craftsmanship of your panties. He takes note of the way they’re darkened beneath your core, sticky with your arousal. “These panties…thin, huh?” He traces a finger delicately over the strap on your hip, pulling it back and snapping on your skin. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. “Joel,” you breathe shakily, “You’re teasing me.”

“M’sorry, darlin’. Just tryna show ya somethin’.” You watch as he trails a finger over your mound, dragging it across the damp cloth and finding your clit over the fabric. He rubs steady circles as he whispers, “See, now look at that. You’re stainin’ em. Makin’ a big fuckin’ mess of yourself.”

You bite back a moan. “Joel, what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like, I’m makin’ a Cinnabon.” Joel mocks you from earlier, but you don’t catch his snide teasing. You’re foggy headed and lost in this moment. “I just said I’m tryna show ya somethin’. Now hush while I’m speakin’.” He pushes your panties to the side, smirking when he feels how soaked your soft folds are as he drags his fingers up and down your slit. Your knees weaken and wobble, and Joel wraps an arm around your waist to guide you back some more. He sits on the bench with you on his lap, tapping a foot in between yours. You spread your legs and your stomach flutters feeling his hardness press against you. You watch him through the mirror as he speaks quietly into your ear, his breath tickling you as two of his thick fingers breach your entrance and push inside. “You said this lil’ number would be nice for a date, right?”

You nod while whimpering, turning your face into his neck. With his other strong hand, he holds your jaw and turns your attention back to the mirror in front of you. “S’matter? Don’t be gettin’ all bashful on me now,” he murmurs.  He’s curling his fingers, swirling them inside you and memorizing every inch of your walls. “Watch how I touch ya.”

You watch his fingers twitch and dance under your pretty pink panties. You peel your eyes away to look at his face, and he’s focused on his hand between your thighs. 

“S’pose it could be nice for a date,” Joel breathes. “You’d wear this, what, under a pretty dress or somethin’?”

You nod again.

“And then when that pretty dress comes off that evenin’, then what happens?”

“I-I dunno, Joel.”

“I know you don’t, sweetheart. I’ll tell you what happens. Your gentleman's gonna take one look at this little getup and rip it right off. Leave it in shreds on the floor and break your poor heart.”

You’re waiting for Joel to do just that. But he doesn’t, he just keeps fingering you under your panties. Two fingers deep inside you, thumb painting circles into your clit. There’s a heat building in your stomach, tickling you from the inside. Joel takes a moment to lift you up, undo his jeans and pull himself out before he begins to rock against you. His head nudges between your cheeks, warm and smooth and hard. How you wish you could see it, hold it in your hand, feel him with your tongue. You squirm against him and find his free arm, hugging it tight to steady yourself on him. Joel chuckles in a low tone.

“But I know you feel pretty,” Joel continues, “M’gonna work around it for ya, baby, but only if you’re good t’me. You know what that means?”

You’re irritated as you shake your head no. Joel’s using his fingers to taunt you, tease you. He knows just how he’s working you up, giving you just enough to keep you squirming but not enough to send you over the edge.

“It means–” Joel pulls his fingers away from your core and you groan. “Shush. Quit your whinin’.” He pushes you up by your hips so he can pull his pants down a little further, then sits you on his lap again, this time with his cock sitting between your folds and your panties pulled as far to the side as he could get them. With his hands still on your hips, he guides you up and down, up and down, coating himself in your arousal. You can just barely make out the shape as his tip rubs against your clit. He continues, “Means no more wanderin’,” he pulls the top of the babydoll down and watches your tits fall out, his both hands leaving your hips and sliding up to play with your breasts. “Y’come prepared for patrol,” he notches his stiff cock at your dripping entrance, “And I’m in charge. Not you. We clear?”

You nod. You’re not sure how he did it, but with Joel’s teasing, he’s seemingly melted away every bit of attitude in you.

“Good girl. Now don’t say I don’t do nothin’ for ya.”

With that, he thrusts up into you, parting your insides. You watch his cock disappear inside of you before throwing your head back on his shoulder with a moan. Joel smirks before using a firm yet gentle hand to guide your head back where he wants it. “Watch,” he coos, reminding you. “You’re pretty like this.”

Joel uses his hands on your hips to bounce you on his cock, then lets them glide up your body. He palms your breasts, squeezing and watching your flesh move and bulge under his fingers. He gropes you a couple of times while pinching and twisting your nipples, enjoying the way your moans change pitch with the action. 

While Joel plays with your nipples, you ride him. Your thighs ache and tremble, knees shaking. You bounce yourself on him a little longer before letting yourself go limp. 

Joel takes the hint, drops his hands to your hips and picks up where you left off. You lean back and let him do his thing. “Gonna make me do all the work for ya, huh?”

You say nothing, just let those sweet sounds fall from your lips as he fucks you. You reach between your thighs and touch what you can of him, unsatisfied with the way you didn’t get to before. Joel makes a noise, seemingly enjoying it.

He kneads your ass as he uses his strong arms to move you up and down, snapping his hips against yours. “Fuck,” he hisses. He lets out breathy sounds, grunts and growls tickling your ear and making the hair on your neck stand straight up. He’s sweating, soaking through his shirt and making your back feel damp. You’ll take what you can get of Joel right now, but you’re wishing you could see him better. Feel him more, his skin, watch his muscles twitch under you. Or above you. You don’t have a preference at the moment.

“Joel,” you moan. “Oh, Joel.”

He smirks, pleased with the noises you make. Pleased with your lack of words, your lack of attitude. How docile for him you are. He would have fucked you long ago if he knew you’d be like this. So well behaved. 

He turns his face into your neck and bites down. Hard. He soothes the marks over with his tongue, whispering nothings into your skin. You find your clit with your hand and begin circling it while Joel fucks into you. You think you have the right. Joel, however, disagrees.

“Hey,” he smacks your hand away. “What’d we talk about? Who’s in charge?” You move your hand between your thighs again, and Joel circles your wrist with his fingers and holds it away from you. “I asked you a question.”

“You are, Joel,” you breathe. 

“S’right. Means I take care of ya,” In the mirror, you watch Joel let go of your wrist and find your clit himself. “Thought you’d know better. Just sit pretty. S’all ya gotta do.”

“Joel,” you whisper, “Let me come,” 

“What’s the magic word, hon?”

“Please,” you beg. “Please. Make me come for you, I want–I wanna come on your cock, please. Please, Joel.”

“Wrong,”

You huff, exasperated and frustrated. 

 “It’s Cinnabon.”

Joel shifts himself on the bench, finding the perfect angle. He continues fucking you, effortlessly finding that sweet spot inside you. He pulls back the hood of your clit, fingers painting the sensitive nub as he begins his work. Your thighs tremble and shake, he keeps you pressed tight to his chest. 

He’s magic. You’re moaning with abandon, eyes darting between the picture between your thighs and his face, and he’s playing with you like he owns you. 

“Right there,” you tell him. “Right there, Joel.”

Soon enough, your moans become breathier and broken, spread out between a medley of curse words and Joel’s name. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Look at you, comin’ so nice on my cock.”

You squeeze Joel’s working arm as you come, nails digging into his hot skin, feeling his tendons and muscles twitch under your fingertips. Your walls pulse and contract with your orgasm, the pleasure built up deep inside you spilling over and coursing through your veins. 

You’re limp against Joel, letting him use you as he chases his own release. He sits you straight up, bounces you harshly for a moment before breathing through his gritted teeth. You pull your attention from the mirror in front of you and focus your vision on your lap, watching as he comes inside you. Watching yourself soak his cock. He keeps you moving, his spend spilling out of you and over your pink panties. 

Joel pulls your body off of him and sits you back down. His spend continues dripping out of you, spilling onto the bench. He gets your clothes out of the dressing room and places them next to you, then stands you up and unclips your babydoll dress in the back. You forgot about that. But he did say he was getting to it, after all. 

He pulls the garment off of you, then helps you out of your stained panties. He helps you into a new pair of panties, the white pair with the little blue flower on the waistband. “So you’re not goin’ commando anymore,” he says. Then he dresses you in one of your new bras, your shirt and your pants. The lingerie lays crumpled on the floor. 

“So you still don’t like lingerie?” you ask.

Joel shrugs. “Keep it. I don’t care,” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You tried your shit on, we’re leavin’.”

That’s fine by you. Next stop is Bath and Body Works. You spotted it earlier, and you actually know what that store is. You’re low on body sprays and you’re gonna make Joel help you pick out some new ones, even if you have to drag him kicking and screaming. 

‘Cause Tommy said you’re in charge. 

NO MORE TAGLIST!! Follow @strang3stories and turn on notifs!

[beefrobeefcal]

PEDRO BABY YOU LOOKIN THICC AND FINE AS HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

SHOW US THAT TUMMY BABY

[beefrobeefcal]

Dark!Frankie Saga: I

Chapter One: Signed and Sealed

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary:

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

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Chapter Word Count: 4,353

Content Warning: Not smut yet (apologies), references to SA, drugs, violence, threats of violence, crime, food talk, weight talk

Author's Notes: An everlasting and beautiful thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for their never-ending THOTs, hot takes, and for beta'ing this. Your support is why I adore this platform - Thank you, Nevy! 💜🥩💜 Y'all say thank you to Nevy for basically brainstorming this with me!

And this is not the Chubby!Frankie we know and love in the Catfish & the Mouse universe; he's dark, mean, and hungry.

I'll be updating this each week (Monday/Tuesday) until you lose interest or I finish it - let's see what happens first! 👌

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

The reality of the situation was hitting you hard. Your older brother, the one most would think of as a protector, had betrayed you in the worst way imaginable.  

He had a drug problem for the majority of his adult life, but now it had become a full-blown catastrophe. Steven, your brother, owed money to some of the worst people in the state, maybe even the country. The Frontiersmen, a powerful syndicate, had allowed him to rack up a ridiculous debt that they knew he wouldn’t be able to pay, but you didn’t know what he’d put down as collateral – you. 

You were now nothing more than a bargaining chip to prolong your brother’s coke problem and buy him more credit. You were now property being handed over to a terrifying group of men who made a profit off of people’s darkest needs. 

“I know... I know I fucked up... I know I did.”, Steven sobbed into his hands in front of you. “I thought I’d be able to pay them back...” 

You sat in your living room, numb to it all, watching Steven cry. You knew he was sorry now, but you doubted it was because of what he’d done to you. No, you were sure it had more to do with the fact that the Frontiersmen had cut him off until he paid his debt. Until you were turned over to pay that debt. 

You weren't sure if it was minutes or hours that you sat and watched him sob in your living room, but it was interrupted by a knock at your door. Your head took a minute to process that your body was already moving and opening the door. 

Standing in front of you was a tall, blond man and a shorter, dark haired man. Both their eyes were on you in cold stares. You just stared right back. You guessed who they were, or at least what they were doing here at your apartment. Wordlessly, you stepped aside and opened the door to allow them entrance.  

The taller, blond man moved passed you and into the living room while the smaller, dark haired man waited for you to move so he could close the door and lock it. 

You gave him a curt smile and nod, stepping back away from the door.  

After closing the door, he turned around and looked you up and down, with a small, yet menacing smile. He huffed in a dry laugh before motioning you to the living room. 

A sour feeling washed over you and your mouth salivated like you were going to be sick, but you looked down and walked into the living room where your brother was on his knees in front of the blond man. 

“... so she had no idea you signed her life away?”, the blond man scowled then turned to look at you. 

His icy stare caused you to shrink and wrap your arms around yourself.  You stepped back, bumping into the shorter, dark haired man. His hands came to your arms gently and he held you in place. 

“Benny...”, he warned in a low tone. “We came here for two things: payment and a reminder.” 

Your body trembled in his hold, and he rubbed your arms gently. You knew better than to believe he actually gave a shit about you, and he was more than likely doing this to get you to go with them without making a scene. You weren't going to resist; their reputation was more than enough incentive to go quietly. 

“He’s a shitbag, Pope... fucking sold out his sister!”, he barks, his eyes narrowing at you, then snapping to the other man while he motioned his hand at you. “She didn’t even know!” 

“Payment, Benny!”, Pope spoke sharply. “Payment and a reminder. That’s it.” 

You jumped when Pope’s volume increased but stayed in place, and Benny looked at you again, his eyes now reading more furious than cold. 

You swallowed thickly, the lump in your throat growing, and looked down.  

“I’ll fucking remind this sonofabitch...”, Benny muttered as pulled out a rag and wrapped it around his fist. 

Your lip trembled and Pope’s hands stopped their gentle rubbing, and he held your arms a little firmer, pulling you back against him. 

“You don’t need to see this, honey.”, he said softly in your ear, causing you to shudder at the warmth and tenor of his voice. “Unless you want to...” 

You kept your gaze low, not noticing the look of remorse and sympathy Benny gave you as you shook your head.  

“Come on then.”, Pope said softly, turning you around and tilting your face up to his with his finger and thumb on your chin. “Are you gonna behave or do I have to cuff you?” 

Your eyes widened and your body’s trembling intensified; you shook your head and squeaked out, “I... I’ll behave.” 

Pope smiled at you, eyes roving over your face, and he nodded. “Let’s get some things packed up for you and head to the car.” 

He watched as your shaky hands packed a bag in your bedroom; clothing, toiletries and personal items. He confiscated your cell phone and laptop, saying that they had to be secured first and you might get them back.  He picked up your packed back and led you to the door. 

The last thing you heard as Pope led you out was the sickening sound of a fist hitting flesh and Steven scream. 

***** 

Frankie was a reluctant leader. He didn’t ask to be put in charge, but his strategic problem solving, and his restrained demeanor worked in his favour to put him at the top. 

Since Tom was taken out, both Pope and Will had said that Frankie was the best choice to lead the Frontiersmen if he gave up his coke habit. Kicking that was easy; the hard part was filling the void that was left. But he found something with relative ease. 

Will watched Frankie as he finished his large pizza; he was now used to watching Frankie eat in their meetings. He’d watched as Frankie had gone from being a lean and muscled soldier with an angular face to what the new leadership role had carved him into over the past few years – big. His thick and muscled arms stretched his sleeves, his face was fuller with a patchy beard, and big belly pulled every shirt he owned taut around the middle when he hadn’t eaten to capacity. Despite his weight gain, Will was glad his friend and boss was off the smack. 

“Where’s Pope and Benny?”, Frankie asked between bites. 

“Picking up payment from that skid, Steven. Not money.”, Will said, eyes down in his notes, avoiding Frankie’s questioning look. 

“Not money?” 

“The collateral he put his debt against.”, Will said in a blunt tone, hoping to move on before having to elaborate. “We have a few things we need to iron out when they get back...” 

“Collateral but not money?”, Frankie asked again in a firmer tone. “Explain what the fuck that means.” 

Will sighed. This ‘collateral’ was a holdover from when Tom was in charge, and despite him not liking it, he felt it necessary to hold Steven accountable and take what they were owed; he agreed to the decision with Pope to move forward, and they were both going to tell Frankie about it. But Pope wasn’t back yet, and it was left to Will. 

“It’s not money.”, Will said, avoiding Frankie’s raised eyebrows. 

“Yeah... I got that. So, what is it?” 

“His sister.” 

Frankie groaned and put his head in his hands. “Please, for the love of god, tell me Pope isn’t bringing back a person in lieu of payment.” 

“He is.” Will kept his eyes low. He knew he and Santi were taking a risk doing this, especially given they were going above Frankie’s head. But they also knew that Frankie needed to put fear in the minds of anyone who had a debt to pay. 

Frankie’s jaw tightened and he sat back and looked at Will. 

“Will.”, he barked. “Look at me and tell me what the fuck is going on.” 

“It’s an old contract we had with this guy... it was done up under Tom.”, Will paused, then sat forward, hardening his tone. “Look, Pope made the call and I agreed. You need to scare the people that owe you money; you need to collect on your debts. People are starting to think you’re going soft, Fish.” 

It wasn’t a lie. Frankie was more lenient than Tom was, allowing for extensions and lighter repercussions. There were more people willing to deal with late penalties than actually pay, and Will didn’t want this to get out of hand. He just wished Pope was here to tell Frankie himself. 

“Fuck.”, Frankie snapped. “Maybe so, Will, but we’re not human traffickers! We don’t take people!” 

“Steven has a big mouth. He’s not going to sit on this. He's going to run his mouth, looking for help to get her back. Words going to get out that you – YOU, Frankie – took his fucking sister. He’s not going to tell anyone that he put her down as collateral. He’s going to paint you as the asshole who took what he was owed. It’s good PR.”  

Will sat back, hoping this would be enough to keep Frankie from losing his shit. 

“So, we took some girl because this fucking skid couldn’t pay.”, Frankie spat out, clenching his fist. He raised his voice, yelling, “And my name gets dragged through the mud as the fucker who called for it?” 

Will raised his hands, trying to calm him. “Your reputation as someone not willing to let debts go unpaid is solidified, Fish.” 

Frankie sat back, aghast. His mind suddenly went to Steven’s sister.  

“Did she know?” 

Will looked down at his notebook, then up again. “I don’t think so. Pope messaged and said she was pretty shook up.” 

Frankie let out a heavy sigh and put his head back in his hands. “What else did he say?” 

Will hesitated with a smile on his face and waited for Frankie to look at him. “He said she’s hot.” 

***** 

You didn’t look out the window to see where you were headed. Sitting between the two men, you glanced over at Benny, seeing the small spatter of blood on his sleeves – your brother’s blood. A sick vindication warmed your cheeks, knowing he was at least bleeding for what he’d done, even if it wasn't specifically for what he’d done to you. 

Benny noticed you looking at his hands, and he grinned.  

“He pissed his pants.”, he chuckled. “Had the nerve to beg me not to hurt him.” 

You nodded, eyes darting back to your own hands in your lap. While it gave you a moment of reprieve from the imminent doom creeping through your mind, it didn’t help the situation he put you in. 

The car slowed to a stop and Pope opened the door, getting out.  

“Benny, take her to the rec room. I’ll get Fish.” 

Your blood ran cold. Fish, otherwise known as Big Fish, was the head of the Frontiersmen and it scared you shitless to know you were going to meet him. 

Benny nudged you. “Come on, honey.” 

You looked up at him, trembling, and nodded. Shakily taking his hand, he helped you out of the car. Grabbing your bag from the trunk, he put his hand on the small of your back and guided you inside the building. 

“Shakin’ like a leaf, honey.”, he mused. “Just behave like a good girl and you got nothing to worry about.” 

You nodded again, feeling your chin quiver. Behave like a good girl. What does that mean? Sudden realization washes over you in a cold sweat as to what payment they could want from you. Your breathing became ragged at the thought of what they would do to you, do to your body.  

Benny opened a door to a rec room with some men playing darts, drinking, talking. 

“Clear out, boys. Boss’s coming down.”, Benny boomed. 

All eyes were on you now, and with a firm look from Benny, they began to leave, murmuring and hushed voices wondering who you were and what was going on.  

“Didn’t ask for you to clear out slow, boys!”, he barked angrily, making you flinch. “Fuckin’ move!” 

With that, the room was cleared almost instantly, and Benny led you to an armchair, guiding you to sit. 

“You want anything, honey?”, he motioned to the fridge, walking towards it, looking at you with a warm smile. 

You shook your head, keeping your eyes low.  

“You sure? We got some soda, beer... “, he said, taking stock of what was in the fridge, then turning back to you. His face fell when he saw the thousand-yard stare in your eyes. 

He tapped the fridge with his fingers, thinking. He didn’t like that you were being used like this. You were pretty and seemed sweet, and definitely didn’t deserve what your skid mark of a brother had done to you.  

“Hey. Can you cook?” 

You look over to him and nod slowly.  

“What’s your specialty?” 

“My… my what?”, you asked, shaking your head. 

“What’s your go to recipe that you know you’re good at makin’, honey?”, he responded, closing the fridge and leaning against it, facing you. 

“I… I make a pretty good lasagna.” 

Benny’s grin was wide, and he nodded. “Perfect.” 

***** 

“What the fuck were you thinking?”, Frankie bellowed at Pope, slamming his fist down. 

Both he and Will were seated at the table in the office while Frankie stood, reprimanding them. 

“Fish… the guy’s a fucking junkie and he wasn’t going to be able to pay. Just took what we’re owed – what you’re owed!”, Pope tried to reason. 

“I’m not owed a fucking person, Pope! You shoulda just let Benny break his legs or something.” 

“Broken leg isn’t enough for his debt, Frank.”, Will said calmly, leaning back in his chair. “He owed way too much money. Broken leg, even legs, isn’t going to cut it. Needed to be bigger. Something to scare him and anyone else not paying shitless.” 

Frankie held onto the back of his chair and shook his head angrily. “Why didn’t you ask? Why didn’t you fucking talk to me first?” 

Before Will could try and reason with Frankie, Pope casually said with a smile, “Because I knew you would’ve balked at it. Would’ve said no.” 

Will sighed and gave Pope a glare and Frankie looked at him, furious. 

“So, you run this fucking show now?”, Frankie growled with his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the chair.  

Pope’s smile fell and he raised his hands. “Not what I meant, Frankie. I just saw an opportunity for you to make a statement and – “ 

Frankie harshly threw the chair out of his way and stalked over to Pope, leaning over him and spoke in a terrifyingly low growl. 

“You go around me one more fucking time, Santiago, I’ll cut your fucking hands off.” 

He kept his face, full of contempt and fury, close to Pope’s, and Pope nodded at him, sweating under Frankie’s glare, knowing full well what he was capable of – cutting off limbs being one of those things. 

“You, too.”, Frankie snarled as he stood up, pointing at Will. “Understood?” 

They both nodded. Frankie’s loud voice and stature, wide shoulders and strong arms, already made him intimidating when he was mad, but with the added bulk he was carrying, he was downright terrifying. 

“Yeah, un-understood.”, Pope stammered.  

“What do you want us to do with her?”, Will asked quietly. 

Frankie leaned back on the table; it groaned under his weight.  

“You brought her here with no plan for her? What the fuck is wrong with – “ 

Will interjected quickly. “She could be useful… for you.” 

“What?”, Frankie barked, standing up. 

Pope knew where Will was going with and added with a dark grin. “She’s a fucking hottie, Fish. Could be useful.” 

Frankie shook his head and looked at Will, ignoring Pope’s comment, and speaking in a harsh tone. What do you mean – useful for me?” 

Will swallowed. “Maybe she’s got some skills, can be put to work. If Pope’s right and she’s cute, what’s the harm? Not like she could say no to you.” 

Frankie thought for a moment. She could say no… and if he fucked her anyway, what did that say about him?  

“Jesus, Will…”, he huffed, shaking his head. His eyes coldly looked up and met Will’s, and growled loudly, “The fuck is wrong with you? I expect that kind of shit from him, but not you.” 

Frankie moved and stood right in front of Will, arms crossed and glaring down at him. 

“That’s not what we do.”, he snarled lowly. “That’s what fucking Tom did.” 

Will glanced at Pope before nodding at Frankie.  

He held the glare with Will for a moment longer then looked between the two men. 

“Where is she?”, he sighed. 

“With Benny. In the rec room.”, Pope murmured. 

Frankie rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, then motioned for Will get her. 

***** 

Benny had been trying his hardest to keep you calm and distracted with questions and musings for the last hour and a half. He was occasionally interrupted by one of the grunts – as he called them – wandering in to hang out, not having gotten the run down from any of the other guys that the rec room was closed, and Benny would chase them out. 

“… so this guy’s got a wrench and I only got a plastic spoon, and he’s comin’ at me with it – “ 

Benny’s story is interrupted by the door opening. He turned to yell at whoever it was to get out but stopped when another tall, blond man walked into the room. He looked you over quickly and nodded his head to Benny. 

Benny stood up and walked towards the man and speaking softly. As they spoke, you could only hear bits and pieces, but you were able to pick up was that this man’s name was probably Will and Benny told him you could cook. 

Will held his hand up to shush Benny and walked towards you. He sat down in the armchair Benny previously occupied, while Benny stood to your other side, hands in his jean pockets. 

Will let out a long sigh as he sat back, elbow on the armrest and chin on his fist. You could feel his eyes burning over you as you kept your own low and on his shoes. 

“Benny says you can cook.”, his voice was cool and flat, with a slight lilt to it.  

You nodded. “Yeah… yes. I can cook.” You tried to match at least his flat tone, but the fear Benny had spent the last while trying to quell had sunk its fang s back into you. 

Will nodded and looked at Benny, nudging his head to let him know he could leave -  he should leave.  

Benny huffed a nervous breath and left the room. But he didn’t go far; you could see his shadow lingering under the door. 

“Not gonna beat around the bush, honey. Boss doesn’t want you here, and frankly, neither do I.”, he said plainly with a hint of warmth. 

While there was no malice in his voice, the smoldering anger in his eyes said otherwise. You nodded.  

“But you’re here, and you say you can cook. Boss needs someone to cook for him since the last one was caught stealing and… went for a swim.” 

“I can cook… wha-what does the boss like?”, you ignored his last statement and forced yourself to speak. 

“Boss likes pretty girls.”, Will chuckled with a small smile, leaning forward and putting a hand on your knee. “Especially likes pretty girls that can be useful.” 

You lowered your head and nodded, trying to hold back the full body shudder that was desperately trying to rip through you. 

He watched you closely when he spoke, trying to get a reading on how easily you were intimidated. While he knew Frankie would more than likely act like you weren’t there, he couldn’t say the same for Pope or himself, let alone any of the other men, and until Frankie said you were off limits, you were fair game. 

“Don’t be shy, honey. No one else here is gonna be.”, he said with a dark chuckle. “Look at me.” 

You looked up at him and the menacing glare in his eyes glowed.  

“Just behave like a good girl. You might make it out of here alive.” 

***** 

The Benny who had tried to console you was gone the moment you walked out of the rec room with Will. He was now cold and stoic, no emotion, and he was intimidating. Benny walked ahead of you and Will walked beside you, his arm around your waist and they led you down the hallway. 

Benny turned and opened a door, walking in and standing to the side, remaining at the door as if to keep guard. 

It was an office. At the far end was a floor-to-ceiling window that spanned the wall, looking out onto the pier, with a desk in front if it, facing you. Behind the desk was a large, high back swivel chair, and in front of it were four plush lounge chairs, arranged to face the desk. Along the sides of the office were shelves containing books, pictures, and other personal odds and ends. Everything was either wood or brass, unless it was upholstered; the room was dated and smelled like stale cigars, old wood, and another scent that took you a minute to place - pizza. 

Will ushered you to sit in one of the centre chairs facing the desk and stood behind you with his hand on your shoulder, as if he thought you might try and escape – you’d given up on that idea back in your apartment. 

There were a pair of footsteps approaching outside the door and your body stiffened; Will gave your shoulder a squeeze as the door opened. You kept your head low and forward, not daring to look at who came in, although you were sure you knew who it was. 

Pope came and sat in the chair next to you and smiled. Will removed his hand and sat in the chair on your other side, and Benny stood behind you. Heavy footsteps moved between your and Will’s chairs, and then you saw him.  

He was tall with broad shoulders, and was wearing fitted, faded jeans and a black and red bowling shirt. His crossed arms stretched the sleeves, and the desk creaked as he leaned back on it. You dared to look up at his face, and you were taken aback; instead of the steely blue stare you got from Benny or Will, or the dark, cold void that Pope had, you were met with big brown, warm eyes looking you over, and a soft face sporting patchy facial hair and mustache. His hair was dark brown and slicked back. Your eyes flicked down his large frame quickly and you noted how his buttons pulled across his ample stomach.  

“Huh.”, he mused quietly as his eyes trailed over you more blatantly. His tongue flicked between his lips softly as if he were thinking.  

“Pope was right. You’re cute.”, he huffed, putting a toothpick in his mouth. “I don’t have any fuckin’ use for cute.” 

“She cooks.”, Will interjected.  

Frankie’s eyes darted to Will and then back to you, and he looks you up and down again. 

“Okay… so you cook.”, Frankie said with a hint of annoyance. “What else you got?” 

Your eyes looked up to his face and you were met with his mouth pulled into a tight line and his eyes baring down on you; the intensity of his stare was almost too much. He raised a brow at you as if to say I asked you a question. 

You looked back down at your hands, needing to break the connection your eye contact with him had made. 

“I used to… used to work in an office. I can file, balance books… other administrative… things - ” 

“Interesting… Tell me you’re thinking the same thing I am, Fish.”, Pope chuckled quietly. “A hot secretary.” 

He turned his attention to you and his hand moved to your thigh, his fingers roving under your skirt and up closer to your crotch. His voice dropped into a honeyed tone, dripping in venom. “You ever fucked your boss, honey? You’ve got four now.” 

You try to not make any movements, but the subtle way you shift screams your discomfort.  

“Jesus, Pope. Stop.”, Benny huffed under his breath behind you.  

Pope chuckled and gave your thigh a squeeze before removing his hand. Frankie’s stare didn’t leave you; he wanted to see how well you handled being the target of men’s overt advances and their groping. His narrowed eyes watched as you tried not to squirm or give a reaction to Santi’s hand or words, and he frowned. 

The only sound in the room was the desk Frankie rested on creaking as he shifted his weight. He sighed deeply.  

“Ben, get her a room set up in the barracks. Take her with you. I’m fuckin’ done looking at this.”, he grunted, motioning his hand aggressively in your direction.  

“I can take her.”, Pope chimed in with a low and crooning voice. You could hear the grin in his voice and his eyes in you, and you wondered what changed from when he came to your apartment to now. 

“Fuck off, Pope!”, Benny hissed. 

“Hey!”, Frankie yelled angrily. “Pope, stay right the fuck where you are. Benny, get her out of here. Now!” 

Benny’s hand quickly came around to your arm, tugging you out of the chair, and out of the room. The last glimpse of Frankie you got was watching him glare at you from his position against the desk. 

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TAGLIST:

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

[beefrobeefcal]

tummy.

[beefrobeefcal]

MISTER PEEPAW. SIR. PLS. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY.

off i go for another stint in horny jail.

Pedro Pascal by Norman Jean Roy for Esquire (2023)

[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.

[beefrobeefcal]

Chubby!Frankie fic

Send in your thoughts, ask box is always open!

The Catfish & The Mouse: Part 3

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary: The trials and tribulations of a pregnant Mouse... and Frankie, too!

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 7,089

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, pregnancy sex, p in the v - unwrapped cos she preggo (don't be silly, cover you willy, kids!), talk of eating, belly praise, self esteem, weight gain

Author's Notes: IT'S HERE! And now you have to wait for Part 4! *maniacal laugh* Thanks be to @theywhowriteandknowthings for their eyes & sound judgement in proofing. And also to @harryleatherfit for being an awesome cheerleader.

The THOT TANK is always open for y'all to make a deposit - I'll never not love writing Frankie + Mouse 💜

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As soon as you showed Frankie the positive pregnancy test, he wanted to scream from the rooftops that he was gonna be a dad. He was downright elated and ready to tell everyone, but respected your request to wait until it was officially confirmed by your doctor.  

You booked your appointment for an afternoon later that week and both of you took the day off work. 

Even though you could have slept in, you found yourself wide awake with excitement. You rolled over and snuggled into Frankie’s side causing his gentle snoring to subside. He moved his arm, allowing you to snuggle in closer. 

“Morning, mama.”, he croaked.  

“Morning, daddy.”, you crooned back, nuzzling your face in him. 

You laid there quietly for a moment, only the sounds of your steady breaths breaking the silence. Then Frankie rolled towards you, pushing you onto your back, his hand gently rubbing circles on your stomach.  

“Gonna make sure there’s a baby in there today.”, he smiled, pressing a kiss to your neck.  

You smiled back, letting out a happy sigh, and out your hand on top of his. “Yup. But I’m pretty sure there is.” 

You could feel Frankie’s morning wood pressing up against your thigh and you knew where he was going with this morning cuddle session. As if on cue, Frankie began sliding his hand from your stomach into your sleep shorts while planting kisses along your neck and jaw.  

“You look so good, mama… love you like this… wet and ready for me…”, he cooed, dipping his fingers into your folds.  

You let out a few small moans, then gasped as he plunged a finger in. “Fuck… yeah… you’re so ready for me already, princess…��, he grunted, starting to push a second in. 

You were whimpering his name along with other unintelligible words while he slowly pumped in and out of you and grinded his hard on against you, grunting. As you were just starting to feel that telltale coil begin to wind up, he removed his hands, and grunted at you, “Take of your shorts… can’t wait…” 

Sleepy Frankie didn’t tease or shy away from anything when he wanted you; he was to the point. 

You removed your shorts as he did his, stroking his cock a few times, then he crawled on top of you, situating himself between your legs. He lined up himself with your entrance and pushed in slowly, you let out a gasp and he whispered into your ear. “That’s it, mama… there you go... fuck, feel so good…” 

He started out at a slow, gentle pace, with an arm around your shoulder and the other on your thigh, pulled up to his hip. Again, the only sounds being both your breathing. As much as you loved when Frankie railed you on the various surfaces of your house, this was your favourite. This was so much more intimate, and you knew in these moments that you had his heart and he had yours.  

He kissed your neck and pushed himself up on his elbow so he could see your face, his other hand still on your thigh. You smiled at him and he back at you both breathing in time with each thrust. The look he gave you asked if you were ready for him, and you nodded. He pressed his forehead to yours and picked up the pace, and your breathing turned to little whimpers and cries. Frankie loved that sound. He smiled through closed eyes and gritted teeth as you continued his favourite music. 

That coil was now wound up tight, waiting for its cue to push you over the edge. Frankie could feel it and pulled the hand from you hip, two fingers going to your clit and rubbing circles. You cried out, head flung back, and Frankie watched you plummet. 

Your walls squeezed him, forcing his orgasm and he came a few beats after you.  

Frankie stayed on top for a moment for you both to catch your breath, then kissed you.  

“I fucking love you, Mouse.” 

I fucking love you, too, Frankie.” 

The pregnancy was confirmed that afternoon, and you felt your eyes get glassy while Frankie openly sobbed next to you as you looked at the tiny bean on the grainy ultrasound screen. 

***** 

You told Benny, Will and Hannah first. You’d arrived at Will and Hannah’s house for dinner, and before you even got your coat off or could be sick from the smell of caramelized onions, Frankie blurted it out at Hannah when she went to give you a welcoming hug. 

“Hey Mouse!!", she said, pulling you into a hug, noticing your swallowing a little harder as the smell hit your nose. 

“Careful, Hannah. She might spew on you… her nose has been super sensitive since got preg-”, Frankie stopped himself and looked at you wide eyed. 

The whole room went silent, save for the sounds of food cooking in the kitchen, and Will stared at you with a look you couldn’t quite place. 

You couldn’t handle the tension and looked at Will, then said in a sheepish voice, “Surprise!”  

“You’re… you’re pregnant?!”, Benny yelled, excitedly and slapping his hand on Frankie’s back. “Way to go, Fish!” 

Hannah squealed and pulled you into a hug, but you could only watch Will. His eyes looked a little sad and he’d yet to say anything. 

Hannah let you go and went to hug Frankie, and Benny came bounding over to you, pulling you into a hug that, for Benny, would be considered gentle. 

When he finally let you go, Will walked up to you and pulled you into a big hug. You felt his breathing change and shudder a bit.  

“Awe, Mouse… this is amazing, sweetie…”, he says, his voice sounding quiet, like he was trying to hold himself together. 

“Will, don’t start…”, you said, your lip trembling and your eyes watering. 

He pulled back and grabbed your head, pushing a kiss to your forehead. He wiped his eyes and cleared his throat, looking at Frankie. 

He stuck his hand out and when Frankie went to shake it, he pulled him into a hug. 

You managed to get through the night without being sick, at least until you got home.  

***** 

The first trimester was rough. Morning sickness hit you like a ton of bricks and was not just relegated to morning. You managed to lose weight from being so ill, but the doctor was confident that it would pass once you got to the second trimester. You kept your fluids up, and Frankie took over making food to the best of his abilities. 

One issue with him being in charge of the food was... well, Frankie overseeing the food. It wasn't that he was a bad cook, but he pretty well stuck to frozen meals and quick things that he enjoyed, and given that he was stressed about you, he overindulged most nights, and whatever you didn’t eat, he did.  By the time you were midway through month four, Frankie was happily eating as though he were the pregnant one.  

You finally started to feel like yourself again in month four, minus the fatigue, so he’s suggested a date night. You were getting ready in your ensuite, standing in a bralette and your panties in front of your mirror, applying your eyeliner. 

“Hey mama...”, Frankie said huskily, his eyes trailing down your body; he stopped at your stomach. A little bit more there than before. He smiled, “Now look at that.” 

“Hmm?”, you questioned, looking at him through the mirror.  

His grin was wide, and he stood behind you, his hand going to your stomach. He splayed his big hand wide on it and kissed your neck and murmured, “I see a bump.” 

You leaned back into him and smiled. The whole notion of you being pregnant made Frankie soft in the best way; he was warm and gentle, and so very hands on with you. You loved it, as long as your mood swings allowed it. 

“You sure you wanna take me out on that date, daddy?”, you cooed, your eyes catching his in the mirror. 

“Fuck, don’t tempt me, mama…”, growls as he kisses your neck.  

You didn’t make it to the restaurant, let alone out of your bedroom. 

**** 

Your baby bump had popped finally in month five, or around the 22-week mark. Despite you having had it checked, and checked again, there was only one baby in there, although the doctor did admit it looked like a big baby. While the rest of your smaller frame stayed the same size, your belly reminded everyone and their dog that you were pregnant. You had some insecurities about how your body was changing, especially when getting weighed at the doctors, but you tried to keep yourself in check. 

Frankie had told you that his family had a history of big babies. His abuela had told the story about how for each one of her pregnancies, the midwife thought she would be having twins, but each time, there was just one baby. This story, while sweet, made you feel less than confident.  

But Frankie loved it; he couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off your belly. Whether in the grocery store, cooking dinner, sleeping, watching TV, he had his eyes and hands on you, and while you loved him, your insecurities and mood swings sometimes reared their ugly heads at inopportune moments.  

Like today. Today was a hard day. You hadn’t slept well, and work had been particularly grueling, leaving you filled with unbridled, hormonal rage at the smallest inconvenience. That on top of the already insecure feelings you had about your changing body. Even though you were supposed to gain weight to support a healthy pregnancy, every time you weighed yourself, your old body issues would come out and cause you to cringe at the escalating number; just as you had started to have a good relationship with your body, you ended up pregnant and had no idea it would affect you so much. 

He could hear you swearing and cursing at the currently cooking dinner in the kitchen; the tell-tale signs of one of your tantrums beginning, and Frankie smiled. 

“Fuck… what you do to me, princess…”, he groaned, walking into the kitchen and seeing you cook dinner while he palmed his crotch. 

“Jesus, Francisco! I’m making you fucking dinner!”, you snapped, frustrated by the package of pasta not opening easily. “Do I look like I want you to try and fuck me?” 

You were standing in the kitchen, wearing a shirt that was fitted before you were pregnant and a pair of leggings. You were flushed and sweaty, hair up in a messy bun, belly popping out from under the shirt, while standing in front of a pot of boiling water. 

“No… but you look so fucking tempting…”, he groaned again, walking towards you slowly. He knew when you were temperamental like this, he could usually coax you into a better mood by sweet talking to you, or, better yet, making you come.  

“Don’t you fucking dare…”, you growled at him, turning towards him, bag of pasta in your hands. 

“Oof, princess… the mouth on you today…”, Frankie purred with a grin, getting closer slowly. 

You scrunched your nose and scowled at him as he got closer. “Francisco Morales! I am warning you!” 

“That’s my name, princess…”, he growled with a grin, licking his lips. He loved it when you got into one of your moods – the result being far more satisfying. “Come on, baby… let daddy make mama feel good.” 

You gave him a furious glare as he stood in front of you and huffed at him. He grinned, reached his hand out and took the bag of pasta from your hands then gently pulled it open. He kept his eyes on you, still grinning, and placed the pasta bag on the counter and reached over to turn off the burner for the boiling pot.  

“Come here, mama…”, he cooed, one large hand splaying on your belly and the other cupping the back of your neck, pulling him towards you. “Gonna help you relax…” 

Your temper was getting the best of you, and you tried to push him back with a scowl on your face, but Frankie stayed firm and pulled you into him further. 

“None of that, mama... I’m trying to make you feel better, baby... let me take care of you.”, he cooed as he placed kisses on your neck and jaw.  

You huffed in resignation at the fact that it really did feel good to have him lavish this attention on you after the day you’d had. You could feel your muscles relax as his hands caressed your back and sides. 

“There you go, mama... just relax and let me take care of you...” 

The gentle touches and the soothing vibrations of his voice nicked your heart, and you went from feeling loved to feeling guilt. You despised who you became with these mood swings and how you treated your sweet, gentle Frankie. You could feel the lump in your throat and the tears stinging your eyes.  

“Do you hate me yet?”, you questioned in a whisper, burying your face in his chest. 

Frankie was taken aback, and while his hands stayed on your back, they stopped moving, now almost gripping you like he was trying to stop you from slipping away. 

“What? Wh – Mouse! What?”, he retorted in a surprised and almost offended tone. He pulled you back to look at him, and you kept your head low. 

“I… I just…” The words you so desperately wanted to say were lost, and you made the mistake of looking up and seeing Frankie’s eye boring back into yours. Hurt and pain and confusion screaming from them. 

“Why would you ever ask me that?”, he demanded in a hurt voice. 

“I-I’m just so… so bad at… at this.”, you cried quietly. 

“At what? I don’t understand, honey. What are you bad at, baby?” He was begging you to let him in, his voice filled with fear. Fear of the words you didn’t know how to tell him: that you didn’t love him anymore; that you wanted to break up; that you thought he would be a lousy father like his dad. 

When you didn’t respond, he begged again, eyes searching yours while his tears threatened to drop. “Please. Please, baby… talk to me, Mouse.” 

You shook your head, trying to find the resolve to tell him what was breaking you, but all you could muster to say in a quiet and pathetic voice was, “I’m just so bad at... at being pregnant.” 

Frankie let out a relieved breath he didn’t know he was holding and couldn’t help the small, sweet smile that slowly grew on his face. He pulled you into him again. His arms held you in a warm, safe hug while he murmured soft words of love and praise to you. 

He let you go so he could see your face, your belly still snuggly up against him, holding your hands. “You’re not bad at being pregnant.” 

One hand went your swollen middle and he rubbed tenderly with his thumb. “It’s gotta be hard on you and I know you’re struggling, princess. You’re growing a fucking human in you, and I can see this taking it’s toll on you. I want to help you in any way that I can, but you need to talk to me, baby. I can’t do what I am supposed to do, what I need to do and what I want to do for you if you don’t talk to me.” 

You nodded with your eyes cast down and stayed quiet for a moment to collect your thoughts while Frankie looked at you, silently encouraging you to speak. When you did, it was between small sobs and sniffles. 

“I just don’t feel good about… about me. I feel gross and fat, and this is the time I’m supposed to feel the best and I don’t… and I feel like I’m not… good enough. I feel like because I’m so out of control with my emotions, that I’m burdening you… And I feel… I feel sad. And guilty and angry… at myself for it. It’s like a horrible cycle I can’t break out of.” 

Sensing Frankie desperately wanting to interject, you continued, “And I know our priority is that the baby is healthy. I get that and I agree, and I know it’s all about the baby. Baby is number one and I just need to get over it. I know it’s stupid to feel this way… but I just want to be… good.” 

You finally looked up to meet Frankie’s eyes, and what you saw startled you. No judgement or anger. Just sadness. 

His eyes were glassy, and he sniffled as he nodded. “No, Mouse. Please listen to me. You’re my priority. You are. Please tell me you know that. You’re going to make me a dad – I don’t take that gift lightly. Don’t you dare say you just need to get over it like it’s nothing. It’s not nothing and you’re not nothing. You’re mine and I love you so fucking much. The baby is your number one, but you.”, he reached up and held your face in his big hands, “You’re my number one and the reason I bust my ass each day at work. The reason I am here.” 

All you could do was nod while tears streamed down both your faces.  

“I can’t stress it enough how much you don’t deserve the grief you’re giving yourself, Mouse. I knew you weren’t feeling great, so I wanted to help you feel better, but baby… I didn’t know it was like this for you. Baby, I’m sorry.” He wiped his eyes and continued. “You’re not gross, you’re fucking stunning and beautiful and sexy and strong… and I’m sorry that I haven’t done more to help you see that.” 

You shook your head and tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but he cut you off.  

“I’ll move fucking mountains if it means you’re happy.” He took your hands in his and kissed your knuckles, then said quietly, “I have one fucking job: Dad is supposed to make sure that Mom is happy. That’s my job and it’s a hell of a lot easier than yours. But you gotta tell me what you need, mama.” 

You sighed and gave a real smile for the first time in what felt like weeks, then nodded. 

“One of the pregnancy books I read said that this can happen and that sometimes hormones can make mood swings and body issues worse and…“ 

“Wait - you read a pregnancy book?”, you interrupted, almost amused by the admission. 

“Well, yeah. I did. I didn’t know what was going on or what I could do to help. A customer was in the shop, and she asked about you… she suggested this book and I picked it up that day after work and…” 

Frankie noted your stunned expression and gave a small grin. “It’s in my locker at work… I read it at lunch.” 

“Oh Frankie… I’m…”, your voice cracked at you tried to speak, feeling the emotions welling up and attempting to make you feel back about his efforts going unnoticed, but you pushed them down. 

“You’re so insanely sweet. Thank you.”, you smiled. 

You leaned in and gave him a kiss, saying again against his mouth, “Thank you.” 

That was all it took for the dam to break, for you to open up and talk to Frankie about what was going on, he in turn shared what he was feeling. That evening, you both agreed that a daily check in when you got home from work was going to be the way you moved forward. 

***** 

By 26 weeks, your insecurities had not abandoned you as your belly grew, but you were far more open about how felt to Frankie and he was ever ready to offer support and praise and compliments. By this time, you were able to eat and sleep better, you felt better, and it helped that Frankie had slipped back into his old habits. He had started to fill out again, with his belly, again, bearing the brunt of it. You were more than pleased.  

Your second trimester was filled with food, mainly consumed by Frankie, and fucking. Your body grew, like it was supposed to, and Frankie worshipped it.  

But what really took over was your insatiable libido. Your body had become so sensitive and responsive to everything Frankie did; from a goodbye kiss in the morning or him accidentally grazing his leg against you in his sleep to him knowing how to quickly get you where he wanted so he could fuck you senseless. He almost felt in over his head with your need for him. 

Early Sunday morning, your body woke you to pee. After going to the washroom and climbing back into bed, Frankie rolled over and in a sleepy haze, pulled you into a spoon with him. His hand on your belly and just the feeling of him up against you set fireworks off and your body felt like it would explode if Frankie didn’t do something to make that tension release.  

“Frankie…”, you cooed, involuntarily rubbing your thighs together.  

“Hmmm?”, Frankie hummed, barely awake. 

“Frankie… please…”, you begged, voice dripping with need. 

He knew that tone; when you said his name that way he knew what you needed. And as of late, you needed it a lot.  

“Really? Seriously now?”, he groaned. Frankie wasn’t a morning person, especially on weekends. Morning sex with Frankie after 9 am was sweet and wonderful. Morning sex with Frankie at this god forsaken hour – 5:26 am to be exact – was probably going to be gruff, and a little clumsy, and oh so satisfyingly to the point. 

You rolled over on your back, his hand remaining on your swollen middle. “Please Frankie… I need you. Now.”, you whined, knowing you were going to get your way. 

“So bossy… so fucking needy, princess.”, he cooed with eyes stilled closed, his hand moving down your belly as you opened your legs. He slid down and cupped your heat, pressing a finger into your clothed folds. You gasped and bucked your hips. 

“So sensitive… god fucking damnit.”, Frankie grunted as he moved to kneel next to you. You noted his hard on in his boxers as he pulled your panties off.  

“Take your top off. You wake me up for this, I get to see your tits.”, he grunted with a grin, eyes barely open.  

“Where do you want me, baby?”, you keened, feeling your body aching for anything he would give you. 

He let out a shaky breath at your words, pulling his boxers down the pumping his hard cock. “On your hands and knees baby.”, he says, swatting at you to get moving. Your belly was more and more in the way of your standard position, and currently, riding him was not the most comfortable for you and your body issues. 

Doing as he said, you maneuvered yourself and eagerly waited for him to just push into you. But instead, he ran two fingers through your dripping, puffy cunt, then plunging them in, forcing a high-pitched whine from you. 

“Good girl… fuck… your so fucking needy… Jesus… you’re sucking my fingers in…”, he crooned as he pumped in and out of you.  

You could feel your orgasm hurling itself to fruition then exploding with no warning. Crying out, Frankie kept the pace, his breath increasing as his own need skyrocketed. 

“Oh fuck… you’re coming already?... fuck yeah, baby… yeah, princess… come on, mama…”, Frankie panted as he worked you through your orgasm. 

Just as you started to come down though, he removed his fingers then lined his hard cock with your entrance and pushed in. You thought your arms and legs were going to give out under you as Frankie began to pound into you.  

You cried out, begging in nonsensical words and phrases for him to keep going. 

“Oh fuck… oh fuck… so fucking warm for me, mama… fuck you’re close again… oh shit… yeah… come on baby… I got you… come on… yeah…”, he mumbled in a sleepy timber.  

You felt your walls start to flutter, and a sensation you hadn’t felt in a while began to burn white hot through your lower belly. 

“Fra… Frankie… fuck… I-I’m gonna… “, you cried out. 

Frankie pounded into you and felt a gush of liquid come out of you, soaking him, you and the bed underneath. If he wasn’t quite awake before, he was now. His drive kicked into high gear and his thrusts became more intense while he reached around you, moving his middle finger onto your clit, rubbing circles. 

“Oh fuck! Fucking soaked me…. Can you do it again? Come on, mama… give me another one... you can do it…”, he howled as his hips continued to push you further. 

You couldn’t even respond as you felt another tight coil threaten to break you apart; all you could go was cry out and pant over the vulgar squelching of Frankie fucking into you.  

With a shriek, your cunt clenched down on him and your body convulsed as your third orgasm of the morning ripped through you. This pushed Frankie to come in your tight, quaking heat while a growl erupted from his mouth. 

He pulled you down to your side along with him and kissed your shoulders. Your breath was ragged as you let out whimpers, and your limbs shook. 

“Good girl… fuck… you did so good, mama. Yeah, come back down, baby… shhhh… did so good for me…”, Frankie cooed between his own laboured breathing while his hand rested on your middle, feeling the baby moving in your belly. 

Your breathing evened out, and you let out a chuckle at the movement in you. “Frankie?”, you asked quietly. 

“Hmmm?” 

“We woke the baby.” 

You both laughed as Frankie got up to get a cloth for your clean up. 

***** 

At 34 weeks, you were done being pregnant. You were all belly by this point and your back ached along with every other body part that had to work harder to accommodate your girth. One highlight though was because you were truly eating for two, Frankie had begun his old habits again. At first, when you had a craving, whatever it was and no matter how strange, Frankie would make it happen for you. Now, your middle-of-the-night wants for burgers or pasta or strawberry ice cream with pickles in it, Frankie joined in. Most nights, Frankie went to sleep with a stuffed belly, out eating you at every turn. 

Benny was competing in a championship tournament and Friday night was the big fight. Although Frankie had attended some fights as of late, you’d opted to stay in, not feeling good enough to stand in a loud, packed arena. But Benny had called you himself and begged you to come watch his big fight, saying that he wouldn’t have a chance at winning if you weren’t there. He also mentioned that Frankie was bragging about how beautiful and cute you were pregnant, and he wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Instead of telling Benny to come to you to see himself, you agreed with a laugh that you would attend. 

On the afternoon of the fight, you’d gotten home from work and showered the day off and done your hair and make up again. You picked out a tank top and one of Frankie’s flannels to wear over a pair of leggings. You looked in the mirror and you actually felt cute.  While you still felt self-conscious about your body, you were really starting to enjoy how you looked with a big baby belly. You smiled to yourself as Frankie walked back into your room from the ensuite in a towel, catching you admiring your reflection. 

“There’s my girl.”, he said, coming behind you and putting his hands under your sizable bump and gently lifting, relieving your back. 

“Oh, Frankie… please do this for the next month.”, you sighed and leaned back into him. “Just follow me everywhere and do this… god, I forgot what it felt like to not have a backache.” 

He kissed your neck, and gently let your belly down. “You’re doing so good, Mama… soon.”, he cooed, rubbing your bump, and looking you up and down in the mirror. “You look amazing. Wait – is that my shirt?” 

“Yes. I don’t have a cardigan that I can do up if I get cold. Baby’s getting too big.”, you stated, and proudly showed him how his shirt can still snap closed over your belly. Frankie just smiled. 

Benny and Frankie had agreed that you didn’t need to be there until right before his fight began, so the parking lot was packed when you arrived. Frankie had arranged for Will to meet you at the door while he went to find a parking spot. 

Pulling up, Will smiled and waved. You hadn’t seen him since you were around 4 months pregnant and were anxious about him seeing you now.  

Will opened the truck door and offered his hand to help you get out. “Hey Mouse! How’re you doing, sweetie?”, he said, eyes bright and happy. You noted that he scanned over your body, his eyes hovering over your middle for a beat. 

“Hey Will! I’m good. Tired, huge… but good!”, you laughed, posing with your hand on your belly. 

“Knock it off, you’re not huge.”, Will chided while pulling you into a hug.  

You stood outside and chatted while Frankie made his way back to you on foot. Frankie hand his hand on your lower back as you tried to not waddle into the arena. Hannah jumped up from her seat when she saw you, pulling you into a hug. She looked you over and squealed, “You look amazing! Oh my god, you’re adorable!” 

You saw Frankie talking to Will and then saw Santi in the conversation, too. His eyes look up and he nodded to you and smiled. You nodded back as the announcer started to speak. 

Benny’s fight was intense. His opponent was almost evenly matched with him and put up a hell of a fight. Even so, Benny was the victor and was the regional champion. You figured that it could be a late night, given that Frankie would probably want to celebrate with his friends.  

Benny’s entourage, Will, Hannah, Santi, Frankie and you, all waiting outside the change room for Benny. Hannah and you continued your conversation from earlier and tried to cram a few months’ worth of gossip and news into a few minutes. Frankie and Santi seemed to be doing the same along with Will. All chatter stopped the moment the change room door swung open, and Benny came flying out towards you.  

“Mouse! You came! You saw me win!”, he hollered, as he ran and looked like he was ready to do what he normally did – pick you up and swing you around.  

“BENNY!”, Frankie and Will yelled, eyes wide with worry, as Benny got his arms around you. 

Instead of him hoisting you up though, he hugged you tight and you did the same right back. Frankie sighed in relief and Will just huffed a laugh and shook his head. 

Benny pulled back and looked down at you. “I know better than to fling a pregnant lady around.”, he said with a satisfied smile plastered on his face, then stood back and looked you over. “Let’s take a look at you and see what Fish has been gloating about.” 

You smiled and turned in a circle and said “ta-da!” when you pulled the flannel back to show off your bump. Benny hooted and clapped in response. 

“Fucking rights, Mouse!”, he hollered at you while the rest of the group laughed.  

You all made your way to the same bar you’d met up at before, even finding yourself at the same table, given it was close to the bathrooms for your convenience. Hannah was also not drinking that night and had offered to make sure at least you got home safe that night; she knew corralling up the guys would probably not be easy, and decided that they would cab it if need be. You sat between Benny and Frankie, enjoying your cranberry juice and soda water. Frankie’s arm was around the back of your chair while you talked with Benny.  

He was telling you the gossip he’d heard about his opponent while he drank his beer, when the baby gave a big kick to your ribs, causing you to wince. 

“Whoa, you okay? What’s wrong?”, Benny asked in alarm. Frankie turned quickly away from his conversation to look at you with a questioning look. 

“Baby kicked me in the ribs. I’m okay, Benny.”, you waved him to continue. “it’s fine. Happens sometimes.” 

Benny looked as though his mind was trying to comprehend the meaning of existence, then finally asked in the most bewildered voice, “Your ribs get kicked? What the fuck?” 

You started laughing and Frankie chuckled behind you.  

“Yes, Benny. My ribs get kicked. From the inside.” 

From there, Benny asked you questions about your pregnancy, some you hadn’t even thought about asking yourself.  

About two hours later, Frankie, Benny, Will and Santi were drunk. One of the bar regulars who knew Frankie knew that you were pregnant and insisted he and his crew buy the guys shots to celebrate. What you didn’t anticipate was that the guy’s crew wanted to buy a round each, meaning that Frankie had four glasses of beer, two rum and coke, and seven shots of whatever hard liquor was poured in him.  

Sitting at the table with Hannah, you watched and laughed as the four men enjoyed the libations.  

“I’m gonna be a dad!”, Frankie hollered at Will and Benny. 

Benny tried to high five him, but missed, and yelled to a fellow patron, “He’s gonna be a dad!” 

The other patron, just as drunk, said something but you couldn’t quite hear it. Santi staggered over to Frankie and jumped on him for a piggyback. Then Will, wide eyed with a stupid grin, pointed towards your table. “She’s the mom!” 

Frankie whipped his head towards you and smiled, waving. “There’s mama! Hey baby!”  

You and Hannah burst into a fit of giggles. The four men came back to your table, Frankie plopping himself down next to you. 

“Hey mama… you look hot. So fucking good. Being pregnant and shit. Fuck, I love you.”, he slurred with a grin, hand splayed on your belly. You couldn’t help but grin at the terrible attempt he did at making a pass at you. 

“Thank you, honey. You’re great, too.”, you said, trying to supress the laughter. 

“Yeah, Catfish. You look good pregnant, too. Fucking… Baby Daddy Fish…”, Santi crooned, wrapping his arms around Frankie’s shoulders from behind and patting his belly like it was a bongo drum while Benny danced in his chair and chanted, “Baby Daddy Fish! Baby Daddy Fish!” 

Frankie and Santi started laughing again, and Will abruptly stood up with a glass in hand, startling everyone. 

“I have a toast. I have words to say to toast.”, Will declared, wavering on his feet. 

“Benny, you did great. Knocked the shit out of that sonofabitch and now you’re a fucking champ – no, THE fucking champion. Proud of you and shit, man.”, he drunkenly stated, then took a drink. 

Before you all could join in and take a drink, Will continued loudly. 

“And I also wanna say good work to Catfish for knocking Mouse up, ‘cause now I’M GONNA BE A FUCKING UNCLE!” 

Will screamed the last part of his ‘toast’, causing most of the bar to look his way then cheer. Your face was red from embarrassment, but the sentiment was not lost on you. Despite the crudeness of Will’s words, you knew he meant well, and you guessed that drunken Frankie would be happy to know drunken Will wasn’t mad at how he’d gotten you pregnant in the first place.  

Santi, along with other patrons and regulars at the bar, came over to offer Frankie back slaps and congratulations. You and Hannah laughed.  

You knew this was your cue to leave. You and Hannah managed to wrangle Frankie and Will into her vehicle after many sappy and drunk goodbyes from Santi and Benny who wanted to stay out longer. 

Once home, Frankie flopped onto your couch, mumbling something about a cactus, and you continued to your ensuite. You, of course, had to pee again. 

Once finished, you washed your hands and began brushing out your hair. 

“Mouse? Baby? You in here?”, Frankie called out form the bedroom. 

“In the bathroom, Frankie!”, you called back. 

You saw Frankie’s reflection in the mirror and were met with a very drunk Frankie, smiling like an idiot at you. 

You smiled back as he came and stood behind you, eyeing you in the mirror. He leaned in and growled in your ear, “I fucking meant it, mama. You look so fucking good like this.” 

One of his large hands lifted your shirt and pushed down the waistband of your leggings, exposing your swollen middle. He palmed at your belly while the other cupped your chin, his thumb running along your bottom lip.  

“So fucking hot… Love your body like this…”, he growled while kissing and nipping your neck.  

You let out a moan and you hand went up into his hair, knocking his hat off his head. “Oh fuck… Frankie!”, you keened, feeling the heat radiate from his body and his hardon pushing into your back. 

“I wanna keep you looking like this, mama… fuck a baby in you every god damn chance I get… breed you... so fucking beautiful…” 

You could only whine and pant in response to hearing those words and seeing his eyes staring back at you in the mirror. 

“I just wanna worship you… fucking tell you how fucking thankful I am…”, he crooned drunkenly, his hand trailed from your belly to try and cup your heat.  

“Oh fuck… yes… please baby…”, you gasped. 

He plunged his hands down the front of your leggings, fingers dancing in your folds. Despite how drunk he was, Frankie maintained his ability to get you off with no issue. 

He plunged two fingers into you, and you gasped and writhed in his other arm’s grip. 

“Please… fuck me, baby… I need you… please!”, you panted as you grinded down on his hands. 

He removed his hands after a minute or so, and when you heard him remove his belt and pants, you knew he was not going to take you to the bedroom. He was going to fuck you the way he did when he was drunk – hurried and needy and sloppy - and you loved it. Looking up into the mirror, his eyes caught yours and he reached for your leggings, pulling them down and you stepped out of them.  

“I wanna watch you fall apart while I fuck you from behind, princess.”, he grunted as he pushed you to lean forward onto your hands on the sink. “I want you to see how fuckin’ gorgeous you are when I fuck you.” 

He spat into his hand and pumped his cock twice before grabbing your hips and pushing into you. You clenched your eyes and gasped at the sudden and very welcome intrusion.  

“Open your eyes when and watch when I’m fuckin’ you.”, Frankie panted. He couldn’t hold any composure while being both drunk and balls deep in your cunt. 

You opened them, eyes catching his and nodded, needing him to start moving. He snapped his hips into you, each time a moan escaped your mouth. You watched his jaw tighten and brows furrow while he watched you. His breathing came out in huffs while he pounded into you.  

“Frankie… please… I-I need…”, you whined. 

“So fuckin’ pretty… Look at you… fuck, your pussy is a fucking dream… you’re just too fuckin’ much, princess…”, he pants, and you can feel his thrusts getting messy. 

“Please baby… I wanna…”, you beg, but before you can finish, Frankie comes with a few big thrusts and loud grunt. He stills in you, breathing heavily into your neck, and you feel annoyed. 

He doesn’t stay in you long, and as he pulls out, his hands grip your hips to turn you around. 

“Up’n the counter, princess.”, he said as he tries to get you to hop up. 

“Frankie, no… no, I’m not hopping up. I’m too pregnant for that.”, you state annoyed, shaking your head. 

You try to push past him, but he stops you. “You didn’t come… you gotta… I need to…”, he panted against your mouth as he reached around and lifted you on the bathroom counter. 

He pushes his mouth on yours and kisses you messily. Your annoyance at him melted away and his hand went to your swollen cunt and began pumping you with two fingers; you laid back against the mirror. He got on his knees and kissed your belly and then attached his lips to your aching clit. 

You cried out and arched your back and grabbed his hair. 

“Oh fuck... yes... Frankie... please... right there!” 

He keeps the pace and grunts into your cunt as he licks and sucks on your nub. You can feel your release barreling through your body and you shudder as you come on his fingers and face. 

Your body finally relaxes as Frankie pulls himself away from you and falls over on the bathroom floor. He lays back, pants around his ankles and drunker than a sailor on shore leave. You get down from the counter carefully and nudge him with your foot.  

“Frankie... honey... you can’t sleep on the floor.”, you laugh as you look down at him on the cold tiles. 

He mumbles something in response and opens his eyes lazily at you. He eventually got up, took off all his clothes, and flopped onto your bed. You took your shower, peed again, and crawled into bed next to a passed-out Frankie. 

As you started to fall asleep, the baby began kicking, preventing you from getting comfortable. Despite this and Frankie’s snoring beside you, you were content.  

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

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