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pascalsbby · 1 year ago

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CARNAL / Chapter 3: Exalt

CARNAL Masterlist

Summary: 3.5K/ f!reader, dark!joel, stalker!joel.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, SMUT, age gap, Joel talks you through it, dominate & aggressive joel, pet names, praise kink, brief mention of religion. talk of: anal/Joel masturbating/fingering himself + the usual pure filth. you’re welcome.

“I beg you. Eat me up. Want me down to the marrow.” - Hélène Cixous

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

The resonating depth within his voice reached out and caressed you for a moment. For that split second there was warmth, excitement. And then terror.

Your gaze instinctively fell upon the intricate web of veins tracing an unmissable pattern across his skin. You weren’t listening to the words leaving his mouth, all you remember is him on his knees last night, spread open on his bed as he pleasured himself with his own fingers to your decree.

“Mhmm, so good. Now stick in another one.” He moved it around his tightness, then did as he was told.

“Just like that,” he whimpered at your praise. “Good boy. Does it feel good? Has anyone ever touched you there? I bet you have plenty of times, haven’t you? Cumming hands free with your own fingers in your asshole. Such a naughty boy.”

He wanted to “try something new.” He said he’d pay you double if you played along well. It wasn’t hard to say yes to him, you would have probably done anything he asked of you, money or not. Seeing him in such a vulnerable position, fucking his fingers in and out of himself was enough payment for you. His stutters had been godly as he shoved his face down into the bed, reaching further into his own bliss.

Now, the irony became clear as day: his intention to grant you a sense of control only fueled the impending destruction he had planned for you. It dawned upon you that this twisted game was nothing but a source of perverse pleasure for him, unwaveringly. You felt it punch you in the chest.

You would be damned if you were going to fall to your knees in the middle of your own capstone show. It wasn’t even that, though, the possible embarrassment of collapsing and then having to make up a reason why. It wasn’t even him encumbering such a momentous occasion in your career, in life. It was that you’d shown this man everything you had and he took it in his weighty fucking hands and crushed it. He took advantage of you. He knew every one of your catches, he knew how to mold you.

He knew how to undo you, too.

Had he been recording your encounters? Did he know where you lived? What car you drove? Sarah lived right down the fucking hall.

Sarah.

You were so full with shame it felt like you were going to puke it up. It felt like it was moving up your throat, blocking your airways and tightening its hands around your throat.

He found you. He was Sarah’s father. He was your fathers apparent best friend. He was your dirty secret. He was your stalker, prowling for god knows how long in the shadows.

“Joel here reached out to me a couple months ago, askin’ how the family was. It’d been ten or so years since we’d seen each other last, right?” Joel nodded his head at your dad. Much quieter and reserved in real life, you guessed. Asshole.

“I’m glad you reached out, it’s been good getting to know you again, old man. Just like the ol’ days. 10 years is too long.”

10 years… You’d met him before? You couldn’t remember when exactly. How could you not remember him? No, you were a child ten years ago- this wasn’t your responsibility nor was it your fault. He’s met you before. He remembered. You didn’t.

In all actuality, he did remember the day he met you. You were 15 years old, a shell of a person. You weren’t happy, running around with your friends that summer like he thought all 15 year olds ought to be. He watched a much younger Sarah running around the front yard in the sprinklers, screeching and throwing her hands up in great fervor that summer. You spent most of your time indoors, painting out of long-gone watercolors.

Joel was there helping your dad build the shop that summer. To a teenager so stuck inside of herself, he was probably just passing through. A quick, fleeting memory.

Most nights he would stay for dinner, Sarah was at her mom’s for the summer, so he had no one to go home to anyways. He sat across from you, his attention perched upon your father, mostly talking about whether they should get this lift or that. What type of metal was best for that kind of support. Joel always pushed his peas to the side, hoping no one would notice.

In those rare moments when you did grant him your full attention, your eyes met his with an imploring intensity, silently begging for understanding, a touch of heartfelt empathy. He would pass you when he came inside to go to the bathroom and his steps would falter. Should I ask her if she needs me?

One time your parents were in the kitchen and he thought he’d give you something to laugh about. Mainly to just see if he could make you smile. See if you could laugh.

“Hey…” he broke the silence, broke you out of whatever trance you’d been in. Your brown eyes found his.

“I’ve gotta question for you, darlin’,”

“Okay,” you had hesitated.

“Tell me, a horse walks into a bar- now what does the bartender say?” He paused, waiting for a response, his half-smile sneaking up the edges of his lips.

Silence, waiting.

“… why the long face?" He let out.

And then your laughter erupted. The awkwardness was far more funny than the joke itself.

“I’m sorry but that was the dumbest joke I’ve ever heard, Miller.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” he grinned.

He knew your dad could be a cruel man, but he’s always hoped after college he would grow out of it. Especially once he married and had a kid, then two. They didn’t keep in close contact after college, but maybe he should have been checking more. If anything, to see how you were. To see if your brother knew how to be a man. He knew your mother wasn’t emotionally or really even physically present herself.

He never once had any sexual or unruly thought about you then. But he had an overwhelming feeling of wanting to care for you, protect you. The world hadn’t been fair to you.

He built the shop over three months and then was gone.

It wasn’t until the day after Sarah showed him those pictures that it clicked for him. Those eyes had gazed upon him before, asking the same question. He did some more digging and realized who you were, whose daughter you were. Only after touching himself. He couldn’t take those touches back, the thoughts or the fire in his torso. That only added to the guilt, but it wasn’t enough to stop it from turning into something ugly.

How long had he been at this?

“Excuse me,” you croaked out, lamentably.

No one heard you over the chatter, over your dads feeble storytelling.

“It was good of you to come today, Miller.”

Sarah must go by her mother’s mai- Miller? The guy who has helped your dad build his shop one summer. He would stay for dinner and always sneak glances your way.

Over the past four years being separated from the environment you were forged in, many secrets had unveiled themselves. Most of them nothing but a fragment attached to something bigger. A thrown beer bottle shattering at your feet, road rage, anger directed towards your mother. A therapist told you it was a coping mechanism, it’s what little you’s brain had to do to survive- forget. And so you did, and were still often a forgetful person.

“I’m glad we’ll be able to get our families together more often, now that we know our girls are best friends,” he smiled, happily.

He has no fucking idea. No idea that his daughter was bent over for Joel last night, spreading herself wide open for him while he whispered how badly he wanted to ‘fuck her into the ground’. Tear her apart by his teeth, his fingers, his tongue.

“And Sarah,” he turned to her, “it’s nice to see you again too, sweetheart. ‘Not the same seeing you grow up on your mom’s Facebook. No wonder this one here is so drawn to you,” he looked in your direction, “‘specially if you’re anything like your father. God he used to make her laugh.”

Communication with your father had been sparse over the past four years. In your childhood bedroom, you would often find solace on the floor, fervently beseeching any divine entity that would listen, imploring for an escape from that house. Once you finally broke free, a newfound sense of liberation washed over you. However, it wasn't an emancipation from the burdens accumulated, but rather a conscious decision to spare yourself from the weight of conversing with him frequently; what that meant to do so and what it brought back up.

The pieces of the puzzle now fit together, as if orchestrated by the stranger who stood before your father, deliberately intertwining these unresolved threads, demanding their resolution. It made sense that these loose ends didn’t fulfill until now; until the stranger standing across from your dad wanted them to.

Joel chuckled and you wanted to punch him his fucking teeth. Everyone was looking at you now, waiting for your joyous relief at the rekindling. But you couldn’t speak, and you were sure the color was flushed from your face.

“It’s a shame Sarah was at her mothers that summer. Coulda started bein’ friends years ago. I would ha-“ Joel started.

“I said, excuse me.”

You’d heard enough.

You tore between Sarah and Joel to get as far away as possible. The look on her face hurt, oh my god it hurt. She was so confused why you had a problem with one of her favorite people, her dad.

Before you could get away from him he reached out and brushed his fingers against your waist. How fucking dare you touch me, you thought. But where his skin had touched yours was rising warmth, goosebumps, TV static- a trigger. Your body answering to his, pitifully, willingly.

You made it to the door before anyone caught you or could stop it. All of those people in that room were there for you. It hurt leaving them, but it would hurt even more to have to bare it all to them.

You headed to the third floor of the art building, saying fuck it to waiting for the elevator. You didn’t want to give anyone the chance to catch you and ask questions. The sharp shutting of each metal door made you jump as you got to the last one, feet creaking the old water-damaged floor. This hidden bathroom had always been a hiding spot on particularly hard days, when critiques tore you down or you simply just couldn’t hold in erupting sadness. This was a new sinking feeling.

Despite the pain that gnawed at your jaw each and every time, you became adept at concealing tears, mastering the art of hiding the hurt as the drops silently rolled down your face. Tears meant weakness, it meant getting torn into deeper in your childhood home. A place you’d never really left.

You heard his footsteps before the door creaked shut. His boots falling heavy beneath him. He came into view and he started to open his mouth.

“I was 15,” you snarled.

“Do you do this often, Joel? Stalk your daughters friends and tell them how much you want your nasty cock in their mouth? Pay them to strip for you and pay them extra to stick their fingers in their pussy so you can get off? How many? How many fucking girls have you done this to Joel?”

Rage. You didn’t like to let out it of where it spent most of its time, walking back and forth across your chest, heavy, always present just beneath the skin. The one thing you had inherited from your dad. It was painful to keep it in, hose it down and stop it from simmering. It was easy to let it loose. It felt like unfurling.

He looked like a wounded puppy, brown eyes turned downward beneath drooping eyebrows. Why wasn’t he angry? You knew how to ‘deal’ with anger. It was easier to scream back and fight than it was to sit and be screamed at.

“Should I ask Sarah?” You threw the words in his face.

“Shh, shh. Lower your fuckin’ voice,” he growled. His entire demeanor shifting.

There it was.

He stepped towards you, towering above as he grabbed your shoulder losing himself for a moment, throwing you against the concrete wall behind you. You winced as your shoulder blades hit the cold. “One more loud word out of your pretty mouth and I will break you.”

One hand against the wall above your head, the other held out against the wall beside you, keeping you in place. He leaned down, smelling your hair, inhaling deeply. He kissed you on your forehead- all attempts at disarming you.

You thought about running again. Telling your dad how much of a perv his best friend was, simply to watch him release his anger. You knew how hard he hit. It was Joel’s turn.

“Why me?” You fawned.

He looked down into your eyes, moving his face close enough to yours to feel his warm breath against your cheeks. He was completely intoxicating. He smelled faintly of cigarettes, of booze. Lust. You could get lost beneath him. It wasn’t like you practically hadn’t across a computer screen, already.

“It was your eyes, Birdie.”

“My eyes?” You threw back at him. Looking into his eyes made it increasingly harder to think of anything other than your past encounters. His moans resurfacing, caressing the hardening of your nipples.

“What the fuck are you talking about you fucking psycho?” You attempted a shove, using your body weight to try and flee. You didn’t want to give into him. You needed to get away from him.

He didn’t move an inch. But you did invite more fury. His hand left the wall above you and moved down to your throat, then your chin. He moved it up towards him, so your eyes had nowhere to look but into his. His grip released some, but you were sure he’d leave bruises on your cheeks.

“Let me explain, okay? It’s not what you’re thinkin’. I’m not a freak. I saw that picture of you and I just wanted to help you, hold you, baby. This got out of hand and it wasn’t what I meant it to be. I didn’t know I was gonna need you like this. Just sit down and let me talk.”

The husky ‘baby’ hung in the air. It hung between your thighs, too. Why are you always drawn the bad, vile, disgusting things?

“Listen to you quantify how much you wanted to fuck 15 year old me? How it never left so you stuck around and waited for the ‘right’ moment? The one where you might not get arrested if you get caught? How you wanted to stick your cock inside your best friends daughter?”

“If you don’t shut your fuckin’ mouth,” he warned for the last time, spit hitting your lips. You licked it away, instinctively, and his cock twitched beneath his zipper.

“What? What exactly are you gonna do?”

You invited, drawing your hands up his chest.

“How ‘bout I show you, you fucking brat. You can’t hide from me. I see you, I can see through you. I saw you the very first time our eyes met and I see you now, wigglin’ beneath my touch. You need me sweet’heart, stop denyin’ it. I know you remember how I made you feel without me even touchin you.”

You nodded in disbelief at how disarming his words were.

“So let me touch you.” It wasn’t a question, as much as a demand. He moved his hands to your shoulder and turned you around, pulling up your dress from your front. He stopped midway, slowly releasing your breasts from where they sat in the part of the dress that snugly embraced you. One dropping, and then another. The clothing slid against your hardening buds. You could hear your breathing quickening.

As soon as your clothing thumped to the ground he returned to your skin, cupping your breasts. His hands completely engulfed them and for a moment it felt like he’d done it a million times. You fit so well against him. You were warm, buzzing for him.

He ‘hmmm’ed praises at your back as he pressed himself against you, moving you further into his hands, pushing you both deeper into the concrete wall. He was hard, fully erect against your back. You could feel him against your panties, so long his tip was hitting your lower back. He was big enough that his whole body had a point of contact with yours, enveloping you.

“Your effort not to melt under me is truly admirable.” He snarked, leaned in close, his warm breath tickling your earlobe as his tongue traced a path along the contours of your ear, sending shivers down your neck. He licked them, too. More appearing at the scratch of his beard against your neck.

Then, the warmth of his face was gone and you heard his knees crack as he bent down, reaching in front of you to move your ass towards his face, bending you ever so slightly to his will. Your underwear was delicately covering your cunt and he realized he’d never wanted anything more. He reached and spread your cheeks open.

“Oh so fuckin’ pretty sweet girl. Look at that,” he traced his thumb down the back of your cunt in awe, pushing the fabric deeper into the slick already coating them. You groaned at the relief of his fingers so close to the entrance of your holes.

“Nuh uh uh,” he tutted as you absentmindedly started to squirm beneath his wandering hands. He dug his thumbs into your ass, spreading you open once again. The warm pad of his fingertips turned wet, licking lines up and down your slit, panties pulled to the side. His face was fully between your legs, his nose teasing against your perineum. It wandered to your tense rim, and the flat warmth of his tongue was gone.

He spit.

“You’re the dirtiest girl I’ve ever seen, you know that? Letting me stick my tongue and nose on your pretty little asshole. Want me to fuck you here baby girl?” He circled it, pushing his spit in with the tip of his pointer finger. You whimpered.

“Hmm, I hear you. We’ll save that for next time. It wouldn’t be fair of me not to work you open first.” Breathless, “please Joel” falling from your lips.

“Oh fuck. Say it again. I’ve been waitin’ for my name to pass your pretty lips.”

“Joel, please.” You begged. At this point you didn’t know what exactly you were begging for, besides a release. A release from the situation at hand but more so a release from the pressure he’s causing in your abdomen… in your cunt.

He smirked against you, pointing his tongue into your hole, circling and lapping at you. The noise you made against his tongue as it entered you was absolutely vulgar.

“Could taste these sweet juices for the rest of my fuckin’ life.” He was on his knees now.

He was coaxing sounds out of the base of your throat that you’d never heard before, directing you to stand on your tippy toes, palms against the wall so he could fuck his tongue deeper into you.

You wanted to take him whole, right there. Feel the stretch as he sheathed himself fully into you, claiming you. You wanted the pain.

“Joel, I-“ God he felt so fucking euphoric, mustache tickling your clit as he worked his way up and down your pussy.

“Tell me baby, use your words,” he murmured into you.

“Take me, right now, please. Can’t wait Joel, I’ve been waiting so long.” God you sounded pathetic.

Two of his fingered entered you, fully. You gasped at the fullness and lack of warning.

“You wanna take my cock? You’re so tight you can barely handle two of my fingers. So fuckin’ impatient, hmm?” He curled them upwards and you felt the release.

“Let it happen. Stop fightin’ it and let it out baby. I’ll catch you.”

You went to church a few times growing up. You always admired the fervor and devotion the congregation would sing to the sky, lift their arms and release themselves. That is how you wanted to give yourself to Joel, to sing for him, exalt him with praise and surrender yourself completely.

You wanted him to release you from all of your sins.

“I can take it. Please Joel. Please.”

He rose from the ground, pulling his fingers out of you and suddenly the room had quieted from the sound of your desire, now covering and dripping down his wrist, his chin.

“Then take it.” He tapped your cunt with his throbbing tip, moving his cock around to pick up your juices.

He wrapped his arm around you, covering your mouth, letting you drop your head on his bicep, face towards the roof as he made himself one with you.

Then, you let yourself go and he ripped you open. And you laughed and laughed, through the pleasure and the undoing. The fullness of him was enough to turn you slack in his arms. Screaming moans against his hand, until all of your devotion turned violent.

Chapter 4: DEFILE

”And all of my devotion turns violent.” - Japanese Breakfast, Boyish

A/N: THANK YOUUU for over 1.1k notes on Part 1 and 200+ follows. Writing has been a much needed escape for me, so thanks for coming along for the ride <3

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