#friendos of the bistro

[beefrobeefcal]

hello beefro darling!!

i'm on a mission to earn a @pedroscouts badge (they're like pokemon i want them all) but i also wanted to use it as an opportunity to say hello!! i think you're very neat and i want to be friends so i made you this bracelet that you can't wear but i hope you'll enjoy it anyway <3

my question for you is: what is your most watched/comfort pedro movie/show? even if it's not necessarily your favorite character bc i know those are two different answers for me at least 😂

Thank you, Freely! I love it! 🔥🏕️🥩💜

I'm so glad you reached out and now we're friends! I have one for you, too:

Now for the answer:

Don't get me wrong, I adore Javier Pena, but he's not my P-Boy-In-Chief. Regardless, I will hunker down and watch NARCOS ad nauseum because why the hell would I pass up S1 E2 19:59 or S2 E3 44:30??

Yours in sin,

Beefro👌🥩💜

[pseudowho]

Nanami Kento is the city-skyline penthouse aesthetic; exclusive, "the top floor's all mine", dominion over hustle-and-bustle, fingerprint door lock, personal bar and your choice of cocktail, pinned and gasping against the wall of his rainforest shower, swish roof garden, candlelit fine dining, "I just...need to get away from all the people", slow dance in the city lights, low-light-hi-tech, "Alexa-- play Kento's cooking playlist", walk-in-wardrobe, slow passionate sex on the rug, ex-financier Jujutsu sorcerer.

Higuruma Hiromi is the converted-factory penthouse aesthetic; coffee-shop street chatter, "don't mind the ivy...and the damp", spiral staircase and arched windows, mezzanine, thrift-store-yard-sale, ride him on the sofa drenched in moonlight, thick old brass keys, paper bags of market delights, "let me get my screwdriver", wine-drunk rug-sliding competitions, IKEA lighting, dinner at the bistro outside the front door, book-tumbling-stumbling-kisses, Lawyer by day, Jujutsu sorcerer by night.

And these two aesthetics...are Besto Friendos.

Neat Suit/Messy Suit Aesthetics

Cold Anger/Hot Anger Aesthetics

Stay Down! Fighter/Get Up! Fighter Aesthetics

[akkurai-zandervos]

7, 9, 12, 16, 24, 26 🌹

7: What did you last eat? I’m eating right now!!! Om nom, it’s summer sausage and crackers

9: Do you bite your nails? No! I’m a pick and peeler, if lost in thought or feel an edge on my nails I picked at them and then peel off the extra stuff, sometimes too much comes off. However, since I started painting my nails this hasn’t been a problem~

12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? Of course I have, insomnia as well as just having energy to keep doing stuff fuels me at times

16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? Dangerous ;) haha just kidding, unless...?

24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? Math and science, and now as an adult (kinda) my best subject is manga and anime

26: What are you craving right now? this japanese bistro place I love to go to, but I don’t wanna go alone as you sit at a table with strangers and it’s nice bringing a friend along, shame you live in a different dimension friendo! I’d love to take ya there (I’d eat there every day if I could)

[beefrobeefcal]

I'm gob smacked. bamboozled. bowled over. shocked. delighted. humbled.

I still have asks up the wazoo from my 900 Friendo Celebration, so until The Bistro's 1st birthday [just wait for what I have planned!] there's no special 1K Friendo ask box activities, but the THOT TANK is open, babes!

Thank-you-for-being-a-friendo,

Beefro👌🥩💜

[Sentimental gobble-dee-goop under the cut]

10 months ago, I started this blog, assuming no one would give two onions about fat/chubby/rollie-pollie p-boys & the ravings of a lunatic who had things to say about them. I have never been so happy to be so wrong.

From the brand new lurkers who drop a like here & there to the moots who have liked, commented and reblogged since the start - & every single one of you in between - you all make this place what it is. I'm just the lucky beef who gets to watch it unfold.

I have made connections through this blog with moots I can proudly call my people. From the late night laughing fits over hats that say Ahoy!, the gif spamming, the watch parties, the asks that make even me clutch my pearls, the continual bastardization of SpongeBob memes, Din looking suspiciously like Bill Murray, the dm's just to say hi, meeting new friendos, swapping p-boy pics and everything else I have had the luxury of experiencing with you amazing folks...

Keep being B.P.W.L.P.P.

*Beautiful People Who Love Pedro Pascal

[beefrobeefcal]

Tah-tah 2023!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beefro👌🥩💜

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

[beefrobeefcal]

currently watching notifications pop up as someone takes a journey thru my fics…

happy trails, new friendo 💜🥩💜

[beefrobeefcal]

a Message from Beefro

Thank you to everyone who messaged, contributed and tagged me in the recent P-Baby pics. The fact that I come front of mind for you because our P-Baby is sporting a tummy sends my heart alight.

These are some of the pics that have been sent in and I.AM.LIVING.

Thank you, babes and friendos!

I-just-wanna-thank-you-sweet-baby regards,

Beefro 👌💜

[beefrobeefcal]

I love watching someone go on a journey through my blog and fics… seeing the string of likes and then BOOM reblog… thank you for visiting me!

Enjoy your adventure, new friendo!

[beefrobeefcal]

Hiiiii, I just wanted to say that I’m kind of a shy reblogger here on tumblr so when I do reblog I feel so awkward but I have to share what I really enjoy.

My responses might read as very basic but trust me I really really love what you write!! AND I really enjoy being mutual as well because I don’t have very many mutual friends on here 🙃 I hope you have a lovely day/evening💜🥩💜

You’re just presh, Eeopy!

This was one of the sweetest, gentlest THOTs I’ve gotten in a while, and I wanna say thanks for joining us at the Bistro!

You’ll never get pressure from me to say diddly. You can say as much or as little as you want - I’m just so glad you’re here!

I - before I was the delightfully eccentric 🥩 I am today - was a shy reblogger. And I was never sure whether I did enough or said enough. I barely even used tags! So I understand the pressure and I feel truly blessed and highly favoured that you reblogged & added words!

Thank you @eeopxlt 💜🥩💜

I’ve-got-two-tickets-to-Iron-Maiden-baby regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

[beefrobeefcal]

Dearest Beefro,

I just wanted to say thank you for creating this cozy little community. As I start to interact with more writers on here and make internet friends and even share some of my own writing, it’s so comforting to see some of those very same writers whose work I love be so active in our little P and P-boy tummy appreciation community. I feel so much less alone in my thots :)

I never would have thought I would find community within this kink of mine, one that I always thought was too weird or embarrassing to admit to anyone else. Which of course, it isn’t. As you’ve shown me :)

Anyway, thank you for sharing your stories with us and for helping me and many others embrace our love and preference for a nice soft tummy :)

Sorry for getting all sappy on you <3

Love,

Winter

Precious Winty!

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR FEELING THINGS! 🥹 BE SAPPY!🫠 BE WEEPY!😭

Thank you @wintrwinchestr for this lovely message - it warms the cockles of my cold heart. I've said it before that tummies and a love for them is still very taboo in today's day and age. Enjoying someone with one can be viewed as pretty darn weird. But not here at the Bistro!

I am so glad that you're here with us to celebrate P-Boy Tummy Time™️, and I am ever thankful that I get to sit at the CoolKids©️ table with y'all 💜🫠😭🥩🥹

Never-was-acorn-flake-girl regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

[beefrobeefcal]

i love how you've claimed the beef emoji. anytime I see it, I'm like "beefro....?" 🥩

Such high praise, Ghouly!

The thought that someone sees a beef emoji and thinks of me just sends me 🤣💜👌I feel seen.

Beef-is-my-name-my-story-is-age-old regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

[beefrobeefcal]

Thank you so much for sharing my fic announcement post! ❤️ it means the world 🥹

You're welcome, Dashy!

Y'all best give our friendo @fullldash / @ghosmooth-operator all the love when their fic drops.

We're all in this trashCAN -not trashCAN'T- together!

Baby-loves-to-dance-in-the-dark regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

[beefrobeefcal]

I maybe a bit of a sneaky sneak...

I see that Tim won the poll... and I have no issue with that... but I also got some fabulous THOTs about Marcus and Jack... and maybe... JUST MAYBE... we need three new P-boy's in the Bistro...

It'll take some time (work is being a bearcat to me lately), and I do have some special Valentine's drabbles to release this week, but for the Milestone Friendo Celebration, I think three new chubby guys is in order.

Don't hold back, babies... send in those THOTs! Contribute today to the THOT TANK!

Happy THOTing,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

[beefrobeefcal]

Patron Saint Beefro of body worship and Chubby P-boys:

I appreciate you and all your work in the kitchen. It’s a messy job, but you stay there until it’s simmered to perfection.

In Pedro’s name,

Amen

Bless you, Nerdy!

I appreciate you and work you do on the other end of the spectrum and I cannot wait for more Dave York and Kira!

Big-big-love regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

[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]

Beefro is turning 1 on June 27th!

from June 21st to June 28th, we're getting down at the Bistro!

This is not just a celebration of me - no way! I wouldn't still be blogging, thirsting, pining and lighting dumpsters on fire if it weren't for you - the friendos. To celebrate, we've got some fun THOT TANK shenanigans as well as fun straight from the source.

Thank you thank you to every one of you for being with me on this wild ass ride 🫡🥳🥩🫠💜😍

Yours in sin,

Beefro👌🥩💜

what to know more about beef? click here

All of the fun happening in the THOT TANK... 🥩beefLore: tell me what and who you think the beef behind the beef is + I'll tell you if you're on the money or in the dumpster. 🥩bday fic rec: have a fic/writer you wanna put on blast bc they knocked their own chubby/fat/fuller P-boy? tell me with the tag. 🥩beefOver: tell me your own HC's + what if's for the Bistro's P-boys. 🥩NHIEbeef: Tell me something from a beefFic that you haven't done with Never-Have-I-Ever. Bonus points if you actually have done something from a beefFic...

🥩beef's beef: My list of my fav fics that I have written (my hand is being forced to say at least ONE good thing about me). 🥩sinbinRecs: My own list of *chef;s kiss* chubby/fat/fuller P-boys. 🥩beefArt: Submit your art for beefFics or SinBin rec'd fics and have them showcased in my artwork collection! 🥩beefSuprise: what oh what could it be? Something fun for me...