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pascalsbby · 11 months

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CARNAL

Carnal Masterlist / Masterlist

Summary: 1.7K / dbf!joel, mention of eventual dark!joel, f!reader (everything you could ever want, just trust me <3)

Warnings: 18+ mdni, SMUT, age gap (24/50s), female masturbation, joel masturbating, dominate & aggressive joel, cam girl, pet names (kitten, birdie, sweetheart, darlin’), praise kink, he talks you through it, talk of: ass play, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected p in v, sucking fingers, tit fucking, spit, edging, kinda stalker joel, pure filth.

Holy fuck this is filthy… just porn with a (surprising) plot.

“I never wanted a quiet, sensible sort of love. I wanted to be devoured.” - Beau Taplin

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“Oh kitten. You’re a fuckin’ slut, aren’t ya? I don’t think seein’ how I could ruin your three holes is enough swee’heart, I need more of you.” Both of his massive hands were squelching against his spit-covered cock, pumping up and falling heavily down onto his thick thighs, his knuckles tightening, squeezing out the spit and precum between his fingers as he gripped harder.

His breathing was turning almost whimper-like, your favorite. His deep Texas accent always presented itself when you got him worked up like this, right before he spurted thick white ropes across the computer screen, stomach hitching and cock visibly throbbing. “Oh fuck, oh fuc-k Birdie,” he would let out. Sometimes you were lucky enough to catch his asshole puckering as he emptied himself, if he was positioned just right in his office chair.

“What’s a big, bad man like you doing whimpering for me?” You cooed, smirking at the computer screen. He could see you, all of you, spread eagle for him, cunt glistening with thickening slick, turning whiter every time you brought your fingers in and out of your hole, every once in a while reaching deeper to wet your asshole. He always moaned when you did so. His moans were deep, guttural. What a dirty fucking perv.

But still, you wanted to see him, you imagined his mouth falling slightly open as he squeezed his eyes shut, fucking deeper into his hands, chest heaving.

You could tell by his build he was at least in his late 40’s, pushing away the thought that he was around the same age as your dad. Not married, obviously. No kids, or if so they were already out of the house.

Figures, as he was sat in front of his screen, ass-naked every Thursday night for the past three months. He found your profile on the cam website and has only touched himself to you and the filthy pictures you send him nearly every day, since. He says he likes the way your stomach looks soft, how when you turn around and spread for him your back rolls form ever so slightly, and how the two dimples on your lower back are, “callin’” his name.

“Fuck baby. Shut the fuck up ‘n open your mouth for me,” he demanded.

You did as he said, sticking out your tongue to show him that you wanted his spend to fall down your tongue and land right between your spread legs. You wanted to push it in your whimpering hole and keep it there.

“Oh what a good girl,” he praised, nearly purring.

He watched as the saliva dripped between your breasts, bulging out of the top of your nearly see-through black dress, and he tried to imagine what his cock would look like between them. How warm your throat would feel as he stuck his fingers down it until he collected enough spit to make fucking between your breasts easier. Not that he particularly cared whether you were in pain or not, but he imagined your tiny throat around his thick fingers would feel good. Slapping the head of his cock against your face, seeing it’s outline in your throat as you choked on it.

He cried out in pleasure as a small amount of cum dripped out of his weeping hole, using his other hand not wrapped around his cock to collect it. He wiped it down his shaft, using it to further edge himself. He sulked deeper into the chair he was sitting in, making sure not to lower his head in pleasure too much. He didn’t want you to see him.

You loved moaning for him, whimpering and drawing out his screen name as he talked you through your orgasms- talked himself through his own.

“Let me see ‘em sweetheart. Take off your dress for daddy ‘n let me cum one more time on your pretty tits, yeah?”

His mind wandered, what color would your nipples be, how would they feel swelling under his tongue? What would your pussy smell like? Licking lines between one tight hole and another, weeping and wet- eventually having your arousal run down his chin wetting his patchy and graying beard. Your cum drying on his lips, sticky against his neck. He moaned breathlessly.

“Mmm daddy, you see, I would love to, but our hour is up, and I’ve gotta go. What a shame,” you pouted at him. He had a truly worrying number of orgasms for a middle-aged man, another and he might fall right over. “Send me an extra 80 and I’ll find some time to sneak away to the bathroom tonight. I’ll see how far I can fuck my fingers into my pussy for you, hmm?”

You hit end before he could gather his breath, and a response. Your phone dinged with the money he owed you, plus a little more. Wiping your own spit and slick away from your mouth, you got up to shower. You needed the cold shower to take away the red in your cheeks and the red marks across your body. Self-sustained, of course, but for him. For his pleasure. For the money.

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The gallery evenly hummed under hushed warm lights and a whispering crowd. Your artwork, you, were splattered so carefully across the walls, and your friends and family were looking upon you. You’d already made your away around to thank everyone for coming, for putting on a brave face just to later mimic the thoughts they’d been sharing with you since you picked up a paintbrush. “And how will this sustain you? What kind of job will this get you?” You didn’t have the heart to tell them that currently, a nearly 50 year old man was sustaining you for fucking yourself in front of a camera for him.

Where was Sarah? It was like her to be late, but not this late to something so important.

Your eyes roamed the smallish room, and there was another person you had missed. Sighing from the promise of more conversation and “what’s next” questions, you moved your hair behind your ear and started walking towards him.

Amidst the crowd, your eyes were drawn to the man, unfamiliar. You had only invited family and close friends. Sure, the show was open to the public, but who would have taken time out of their Thursday night to come see some art senior’s capstone show?

He emanated both beauty and fear- timidness on your part. There was an undeniable allure about him, your curiosity piqued. You observed the man closely, trying to place where you had encountered him before, who he could possibly be. His large back was turned to you, but you could see by the gray in his hair that he was too old to be one of your friends’ play things.

He turned away from the piece he was admiring, showcasing his side profile first, and something inside of you clicked. Not knowing if it clicked in place or out, the feeling quickly dissipated into fear. He was ethereal and your chest was heavy. Your palms sweating, you looked around to see if he had the same effect on anyone else, but no one was paying attention.

He was fully turned now, approaching you, but you couldn’t make eye contact. Your spine tinged with a sense of familiarity that sent warning signals to your senses. His eyes bore into you, and suddenly the half-naked self portraits on the walls felt like nothing compared to the depth in which his gaze cut into you. You felt like you needed to run. Your nipples hardened almost painful under your dress.

The air around him reached you before he did. Aged whiskey, honey, musk… a man. The flannel he was wearing draped over his broad shoulders perfectly, looking too thick for a May night. He looked completely out of place. He reached his hand forward and all you could do was stare at it.

What the fuck was wrong with you?

It was massive, his fingers thick and calloused from hard work and time. They looked familiar, even. Surely not… You recognized your pause and looked up at him, taking his hand as he introduced himself.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya, Birdie,” He smirked beneath the facial hair, lips turning upwards on the right side, showing his teeth. He looked down upon you, eyes darkening as skin touched skin. He saw in your eyes as you realized who he was.

“Joel Miller,” his deep southern accent dripping with charm and an underlying edge that made your heart race, “and you?”

No.

“Hey! Oh my god, I’m sorry, Chase called me so I had to step out for a minute,” Sarah entered the liminal space, nearly squealing. “THIS IS INCREDIBLE. I am so proud of you.” She had you immediately in a hug. “Oh, and I see you’ve met my dad.” She said cheerfully. “I thought I’d drag him out here to meet my bestie so it won’t be so awkward when you come and visit me. Cause you’ll be coming to visit me… right?”

You smiled, as warmly as possible as your body was fighting off a panic attack.

Recognition flickered in your mind, triggering fragmented memories of perfectly unsettling encounters. Joel was the one who had whispered, screamed, filthy words to you over the computer screen. His messages laced with cum and an intensity that had left you both captivated and unsettled- but always wanting more. You hadn't invited him to the gallery, and you had certainly never met him in person. The puzzle pieces fell into place, and a chilling revelation washed over you as he continued roaming your body, eye-fucking you, as you half listened to Sarah- he knew exactly who you were. He was here on purpose.

You introduced yourself to him, reaching your hand back out as his engulfed yours, warm and dry. “Sarah has told me so much about you,” he winked, “work has me busy so I don’t visit here too often but I couldn’t miss this,” he gestured.

He pulled your body into his for a hug. What a fucking gentleman, huh. Suddenly the ground wasn’t solid and your body was being held against his stoic frame… and suddenly your thighs were slipping together under your dress, wet and sticky.

“You cleaned up nice baby. Couldn’t look too fucked out for tonight, could ya?” He whispered into your ear, chuckling deeply into your hair as it moved against his warm breath, tickling your neck.

“Joel Miller, as I live and breathe.” His warmth was suddenly gone and the air felt thick, empty. “Now who would have thought our girls would end up being best friends? How come we didn’t put two and two together before?” Your dad patted Joel across the back

Oh, fuck.

Part 2: Prologue

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A/N: Now imagine how it would be if they were physically together… oops! I’m always taking requests <3

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notashe-hogwarts · 11 months

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Ya’ll...

Carnal had me on my KNEES after reading it- if you don’t know the fic its: carnal by Arthenaa on tumblr!

#hogwarts #slytherin #sebastiansallowart #sebastiansallow #sebastian #sallow #ominis #ominisgaunt #gaunt #auror #carnal #fanart #wizards #wizard #tuxedo #uniform #suits #hogwartslegacy #legacy

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bloodyknucklesforme · 18 days

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Nothing Fucks With My Baby |Carnal XVI

Carnal (adjective) : relating to or given to crude bodily pleasures and appetites

Simon and Johnny take Nina out for the first time to teach her to hunt.

Masterpost

CW: cannibalism, sexual assault, rape mention, violence, homophobia,

This is very much a horror fic mostly based around the films Raw (2017) and Bones and All (2022), if you sit through those you should be good here. This is my first horror fic.

Chapter Title Credit: NFWB by Hozier

She liked the way she looked. Her hair in loose curls, dark eyeliner and cherry red glossy lips. A low cut satin tank top and matching black mini skirt. Johnny picked it all out. Made her spin around in the dressing room till she was dizzy. She felt like Narcissus, unable to tear her eyes from the grungy mirror in the club’s loo. The couple drinks and Johnny’s wandering hands on the dancefloor only flamed her confidence. She liked this feeling.

She wished they’d kept the night going. She didn’t want to be shoved away so the boys could have their fun. Simon had said he’d teach her how to hunt.

It wasn’t supposed to be true hunting tonight. Just ‘scouting’ as Simon said, his hands on her waist as he stood behind her near the bar. ‘Keep close to us’

Johnny had ordered her a drink. Something pink and fruity and sweet. They found a table in the corner and she was squeezed between the two men. It was fun. Exciting even.

She’d never been out to a place like this. They both complained about the music and drink prices but she was enamored. Arthur never wanted to go out. She didn’t want to go alone. The music was loud and she felt the bass in her chest. She couldn’t help the smile that tugged on her mouth the whole evening.

“I want to dance,” she yelled over the music to Johnny. He grinned and pulled her out to the floor. She draped her arms around his neck, giggling. She knew she should take it seriously but it was just ‘scouting’. Simon would disappear tomorrow afternoon and return that night with a week’s worth of food. She just wanted to have fun. Dance with her boyfriend in a club, wearing sparkly clothes and music she couldn’t make out the words to.

A hand groped her ass and she pulled herself close to Johnny, craning her neck to look back.

“Fuck off,” Johnny growled, laying a hand over the back of her skirt. She glared at the men standing behind her. Somewhere between Johnny and Simon’s age, would have been attractive if he hadn’t assaulted her.

“Not sharing?” The man laughed, like it was an honest mistake. “Bit jealous.”

“He said fuck off.” Simon growled, grabbing his shoulder and jerking him back harshly. The guy put his hands up and backed away, mumbling apologies.

“You okay?” Johnny cupped her face. She nodded and leaned against his shoulder. In her peripheral she could see him shoot a look at Simon. He stood behind her and let his hands rest near her waist, fingers just brushing against her.

“Go back to dancing. We won’t let anyone touch ya,” He said into her ear. She felt safe sandwiched between them. The mix of Johnny’s body and her drink made her feel warm and fuzzy. She was flipped around at one point, Johnny grinding against her ass and kissing her neck while she rested her hands on Simon’s shoulders. He still didn’t touch her, letting his hands rest on Johnny’s hips. She felt like he watched her the same way someone would watch a bird, simple curiosity.

When her feet started to ache they led her back to their table, Johnny fetching another round of drinks.

“Watch the crowd. Look for the drunk ones.” Simon leaned down to explain.

“Everyone’s drunk,” She said. She herself was feeling the effects of her drink and the sips she’d stolen out of their drinks to ‘taste’.

“Yes but that’s not the only factor. That cunt that groped you. Woulda gone for him if he had a few more in him.”

She shifted, having pushed that moment out of her memory already.

“Still might if I see him again.”

“Does he deserve to die for that?” She looked up at him. He was wearing a black surgical mask, making it harder than usual to read his expression.

“I don’t tolerate that behavior. He did that and he doesn’t even know you. He saw you with Johnny and still thought he could take you.”

“I don’t belong to Johnny.”

“No but what do you think he would have done if you were alone?”

She sunk down in her seat, the vinyl sticking to her thighs. She didn’t want to dance anymore.

She didn’t know if Simon did it on purpose but he picked at her insecurities like a scab. She’d spent her life sickly and small. Killing Arthur was one time she’d fought back. She’d get into arguments with her father but a raise of his hand and she’d back down like a dog. If that man had done worse or if Johnny and Simon weren’t there she didn’t know how she would have fought back. Fight her way through the crowd to get away or rip his throat out with her teeth? She knew how to use a gun but that was hardly helpful in most situations. Too much of a clean up. There was still a stain on her bedroom floor.

She reached for Johnny’s leftover scotch on the rocks and finished it in one gulp. Simon raised an eyebrow at her but stayed silent. Johnny didn’t say anything either when he got back. Bourbon, neat for Simon. A gin and tonic for himself and another pink fruity thing for her. It tasted like strawberry lemonade.

Johnny had his arm around her shoulders, whispering how pretty she was and how he couldn’t wait to get her back home. Simon probably couldn’t wait either. He could try to hide but she knew he watched when he could and listened when he couldn’t. Seeing his shadow on the other side of the bedroom door as Johnny smothered himself between her legs. Did he do it to listen to Johnny or her or both?

Did he fuck his hand during or afterwards? Did he do nothing at all?

There was tension between the two men and she wasn’t blind to being a catalyst for it. Johnny didn’t talk much about their previous relationship, just that Simon was the one to break it off. She didn’t talk to Simon enough to ask for his side.

She understood though. She remembered the rush she felt realizing they were just like her. Some inner animal begging for a pack. She would have a hard time letting Johnny go and she’d only known him for a couple months.

Simon had his arm outstretched, his hand holding the back of Johnny’s chair.

She wanted to find a way the three of them could make it work. She’d be willing to give up intimacy if just meant they wouldn’t leave. If Johnny wanted Simon again, she’d acquiesce. She intertwined her fingers with Johnny’s and leaned against his shoulder. He and Simon talked above her head, making notes of the different patrons. Maybe they would go home with something tonight?

“Finish your drink and Johnny will take you back to the car.” Simon said. They’d go hunting without her. Bring something back. There was tarp already laid in the back of Simon’s car. Nina would end up waiting in the back seat, picking at her nails like she did on the way there.

“Hey, it’s not gonna run away from ya.” Johnny chuckled, pushing her wrist down as she downed the rest of her drink.

“I’m going to the loo.” She clamored over him to get out. He had to catch her from falling. The alcohol was starting to hit, making the world seem wobbly and bloated.

She had made it to the loo eventually.

She smacked her lips in the mirror one final time. She should have brought her purse so she could reapply her lip gloss. She wanted to coat Johnny’s face in sticky cherry flavored kisses. If Simon was going to take him away on a hunt, she’d leave a little reminder of herself.

“Hey, love.” A voice cooed as she stepped out of the loo. She stood quietly, staring down the red lit hallway at the man from earlier. He was with another man now. “Lost your faggot friends?”

There were too many smells here. Cigarettes, cheap liquor, vomit, sex, food. She couldn’t pick out Johnny or Simon. She took a step back towards the main room. If she called would they hear her? She left her phone at the table.

When she went hunting with Price she wondered what the deer felt in the moment between the sound of the shot and death. She knew now.

She turned too quickly to run, making it two steps before tripping over her own feet. She caught herself with her hands, straining her wrists.

“Simon!” She screamed before a hand clasped over her mouth. She was lifted to her feet and pulled backwards. Her heels slide across the linoleum floor. She thrashed in the man’s grasp while his friend laughed.

“I like when they try to fight.” A fist hit her hard in the stomach, all the liquor rushing back up her throat and back down again like a rogue wave. They laughed as she groaned, the man holding her bucking his hips against her. Would they kill her once they were done? Or leave her for the next vulture to find?

The red light mixed with green as she was pulled towards the exit door. She kept her eyes looking down the hall, waiting for one of them to turn the corner. She’d been gone awhile now, right? They’d come looking.

Johnny would look. He wouldn’t leave.

She heard the clatter of the push bar on the door. She opened her mouth as wide as she could, till her teeth caught the side of his hand and she bit down hard. Her teeth caught between the bones of his pointer finger.

She was flung against the exit door, stumbling onto her knees in the back alley. The first man was cursing and screaming. A foot hit the center of her back and sent her face forward to the ground

“Fucking cunt.” the second man spat. “You’re going to fucking die now.”

The air was thick with copper. Her mouth was sticky with blood and tendon. She grabbed at the ground, using cracks in the pavement to pull herself away. A knee pressed against her back.

They’d left her. She was going to die in this alley. Alcohol and tears blurred her vision. She winced as her hair was pulled back harshly. She put her hands in front of her face, a feeble attempt to protect her head.

The alleyway lit up as the door opened again.

“Let me finish her and we’ll get you to hospital.”

She could hear the sound of flesh being cut and torn, a wet squelch of a knife entering someone’s stomach. The first man fell, landing face first next to her. Blood bubbled out of his mouth as he choked on it.

The weight on her back was lifted. She turned her head in time to see the man land on his back on her other side. He was pleading and crying. A boot came down and cracked his skull, smashing his nose in. The boot came down again and again until the man’s head was nothing but bits of broken bone and what looked like bloody ground beef.

She was being pulled to her feet by gentle warm hands.

“Did they hurt ya?” Johnny was cupping her face, turning her head in all directions. She pushed him away. She was choking on her own breaths. There was rapidly cooling blood covering her face and arms.

“We need to go. Now.” Simon ordered, already grabbing the faceless man and lifting him into a dumpster.

“Give me a fucking minute, Si. Look at her!” She wrapped her arms around herself.

“You were gonna…you were gonna leave me.”

“No, no, no. We were not.” Johnny reached for her again, panic dripping off him like sweat. “We came to find ya. Saw the cunt missing a finger and knew something happened to ya. You’re safe now, Neen.”

She shook her head. Her head throbbed. Johnny was still talking her down between snaps at Simon. She felt small. She wasn’t a predator. She was prey as she always was. Panic was running through her, rapidly climbing up her stomach and out her throat.

“Do not scream.” Simon hissed, laying a hand over her mouth. He held the back of her head gently, smoothing her hair back down. “We’re going to take you home.”

He pulled her flush against his chest, pulling the sides of his jackets around her, hiding her from the light and noise.

“Johnny, grab that one. He’s still alive. We’re taking him.”

She could hear Johnny grunt and the man choke.

She wrapped her arms around Simon’s middle, trusting him to lead her out.

He lifted her up when he decided she didn’t move fast enough. They stayed out of the light, creeping out from corners as crowd’s passed. It was getting late, most were headed home. The streets emptied.

Simon used the key to unlock the door rather than click the button. She was deposited in the passenger seat. She pulled her knees up to her chest, kicking off her shoes.

The car shook as Simon and Johnny tossed the back into the back of the car.

“Can I touch ya?” Johnny asked softly, opening the door.

“Just get in the fucking car, Johnny.” Simon barked. Johnny nodded, scoping her up and sitting her in his lap in the car. He tucked her against him, her face pressed to his neck. She wanted to vomit.

“You’re safe, Neen. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

She could still hear the man gurgle in the back. She closed her eyes. His taste was still in her mouth.

The crackle of the gravel drive was her signal she was home.

“Get her cleaned up. I’ll deal with him.” Simon said, already out of the car.

Johnny carried her inside and upstairs. He set her on the edge of the tub.

“Let me get a look at ya.” Johnny combed over her body. He took off her clothes with reverence, eyes moving between her face for a reaction and her body for wounds. Her hands and knees were cut up, a bruise already forming on her stomach. Johnny sucked on his teeth when he saw. He mumbled, “I shoulda gone with ya.”

His hands were bloodied and arms splattered. He’d been the one who stabbed the first man. Simon’s boot did the other in.

The adrenaline was fading away, leaving a dull ache and an exhaust that was trying to pull her to sleep right there.

“Do you want a bath?” He combed a hand through her hair. She shook her head.

He held her steady as she turned the shower on and stripped her underwear off.

“Stay,” She pleaded when he turned away. He stripped down too. His stained clothes joined hers on the floor.

She leaned her back against his chest, letting the water run over her face and down her front. A pink whirlpool formed around the drain. He moved her arms around, soaping them up and rinsing them off. He cooed to her.

She was too numb to respond. Too angry at herself for being helpless. Sickly as always. Little Nina always needing someone to care for her. Too ill in body and mind to do it herself.

The bathroom door opened.

“Si, don’t.” Johnny warned. A tattooed arm reached from behind the shower curtain. A piece of raw meat sat in his hand.

“She needs to eat.”

“She needs you to leave.”

She grabbed it. It was from a thigh judging by the weight and texture. She shoved it in her mouth greedily. It was good. Tasted better than the pure blood. A sweet fuck you. She hoped he was still alive when Simon cut it off.

The curtain opened more. Simon was already naked, covered in blood. Johnny’s protests fell silent but his hands were firm on her waist, keeping her closer to him. Simon brushed hair out of her face.

“You did well. Smelled the blood and knew it was you.” He tilted her chin up to look at him. “I’ll kill anyone that hurts you again.”

He looked at Johnny.

“Aye. Those bastards paid for what they did.” Anger still filled his voice.

“I thought you left me.” She said softly, the numbness cracking into residual terror. “I knew if they got me outside…they…they were.”

“Shhh. It's okay.” Johnny kissed her temple, turning her towards him. “We would never leave ya.”

Simon rubbed her shoulder. She didn’t expect to find herself so comfortable with him like this. She could still hear the sound of his boot crushing bone. Her stomach churned.

“I want to go to bed.”

Simon washed her hair. He was tender. He helped Johnny clean up too. They all smelled like her body wash. The hot water was running out.

Johnny wrapped her in a towel.

“Let’s get ya tucked in.”

Simon was headed towards his room, leaving wet footprints on the floor. He never bothered to grab a towel.

“Simon…” He stopped and turned to look at her. She wanted him next to her, squeeze her between him and Johnny like how they did earlier. Keep her safe. She knew the man in the basement wouldn’t rise from the dead but his ghost scared her. Johnny was kissing her shoulder. Even with him the bed felt empty.

She was shaking, terror or cold she didn’t know. He towered over her. A line of fear rocked up her spine still. She didn’t know what to think of him. She knew that tonight he killed a man for her. Not just killed, eviscerated. Like he did to the man that stabbed Johnny, left him faceless. Unidentifiable.

Simon kissed the top of her head.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

None of them bothered with clothes, climbing into bed like children. Johnny’s arm was around her. Simon was on his back on the other side.

As she drifted to sleep she could hear their whispered argument.

“Bait.”

“I didn’t.”

“Forgive you.”

“Bastard”

“Rip.”

“Her”

“Enjoyed.”

“Fuck off.”

Johnny fell asleep first. She couldn’t quite reach it. Jolting every time she got close. Simon’s hand found hers under the sheets.

“Still frightened?” He asked, turning on his side.

“I want more.”

“More of what?” He wanted her to say it.

“I want to eat more.”

He guided her out of bed, replacing her sleeping form with a pillow. He let her lead the way in the dark, down the two flights of stairs to the basement. The stone was cold on her feet. The table he’d set up down there was stained a deep red.

He turned on the sole light, casting them in a sickly yellow light. She shifted under his gaze, his eyes inspecting her body.

“What are these?” He asked, knuckle brushing against the many scars on her stomach and thighs.

“Never had enough food growing up.” Their voices were hushed though Johnny would have never been able to hear them.

“You will now.” He opened the chest freezer. “Eat.”

She grabbed a bicep and bit into it. It was cold but not yet frozen. She sank down to her knees, ripping and tearing at it. Her bites were angry and messy. Simon knelt down in front of her, moving her hair out of the way whenever needed. He nodded as she groaned, swallowing down more and more. She thought about Arthur and regretted not being able to do this to him. Too many men have hurt her, not enough have suffered the consequences. She wanted to eat them too. They’d be as scared and as powerless as she was. They’d all taste as sweet, fill her up as much.

She finished with a bloody mouth, panting hard. She looked at Simon. His cock was hard. He kissed her, licking the blood from her mouth. He held her firmly, pressing his forehead against hers.

“That’s my girl.”

Tag list: @gogh-with-the-flow @queen-ilmaree @cathnoneofyourbusiness @pssytrux

#Carnal #simon ghost riley x oc #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #modern warfare II #modern warfare #call of duty fanfic #call of duty #john soap mactavish #John soap mactavish x oc #soapghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x soap #dark fic #ghoap

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murdrdocs · 2 months

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hey y’all i’m having vivid luke desires.

#carnal #like i know him #it’s bad today #so let’s talk ig idk

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finalxgirl · 5 months

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This is how I look every time I scroll on tumblr, reblogging more quotes about cannibalism / carnal desire / Richard Siken

(This was totally my Halloween look I did NOT wear for 5 days in row)

#primal #carnal desire #carnal #desire #richard siken

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devilishlyhandsome123 · 1 year

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They Come Alive at Night pt 2

Here goes my pt 2 since Tumblr wouldn't let me post it all in one spot....

Warning ⚠️: 18+ only, NSFW, supernatural, shape shifter, Daddy Dom, semi non-con, biting, scratching, blood, animalistic and carnal!! 🥵 find your after care in this episode, Buck up and enjoy!!

Refresh to the last sentence if pt 1: your body shakes and heats up as you approach climax....

Chris is pounding into you now, over and over again. You are so close, but cannot find your release.

"I need your release kitten." He begs. "Cum for me please?"

He starts kissing your neck and continuing his assault on your pussy. He runs his hand up your side and rolls your nipple in his fingers, careful not to cut you this time. The added electricity from your nipple to your clit has you falling over the edge hard. Your voice is unrecognizable to you as you scream through your orgasm, moaning and thrashing. Chris holds on to you and follows right after, filling you with his seed.

You both lay there, him still inside you, trying to catch your breath. He raising up on his elbows and you notice that he's back to normal. No more nails, no more pointed ears, no more extra teeth. He has such a beautiful face. You reach up and push a strand of his hair back and run your fingertips down his face.

"I'm so sorry it had to happen this way. As soon as my monster smelled you, I couldn't stop it. I had to have you. I could feel you in my bones."

You just look at him and smile, not able to find words. He kisses your nose and pulls out slowly. You wince, but oddly enough you find the feeling incredibly arousing and moan again. Chris looks at your face trying to read you.

Before you can stop him, he dives into your sex and starts licking you. Your hands shoot into his hair. You are way too sensitive and he has you shaking in a matter of second. You try to clamp your legs together as the orgasm rocks your body, but his hands are strong and holds you down. When you finish he licks you clean.

"You taste so damn good." He rumbles.

He pulls you into his arms and takes you into the bathroom. He runs a warm bath, pulls you in with him, and sits you with your back to his front. His long legs wrap around you and he washes your body for you. Not once does his kisses stop. He kisses your head and your neck and your shoulders. You could get used to this. You both sit in the bath until the water grows cold and then he lifts you out and wraps you in a towel. He even blow drys and combs your hair for you.

"I'll be right back. Get ready for bed." He says.

When Chris leaves the room, you go to the sink to brush your teeth, but you notice a white, almost silver strip of hair amongst your dark brown hair. You are fingering the strand when Chris comes back in, wearing sweat pants. He looks at you and smiles.

"It's from my bite. It's a marking that signals everyone around that you're my mate, my Queen." He walks up to you and runs his fingers through your hair.

You let out a squeak as Chris scoops you up into his arms. He carries you to the bedroom and sets you on the side of the bed. He pulled out a t-shirt and bed shorts for you and helps you get dressed. You notice he stripped the bed and put on new sheets. You are in absolute awe of this man.

He tucks you in and then sits next you, half on the bed.

"I'm gunna go clean up the mess I made in your kitchen. I need you to rest. Do you want me to stay tonight or would you like some time to think everything over? I understand if you need time." Chris looks at you longingly.

You think for a second, but you can't find a reason why he shouldn't stay. You are drawn to him and you really don't want to be alone tonight.

"Can you stay, please? I really don't want to be alone."

"Absolutely. Now, my Queen, close your eyes and rest. I will be right back." He leans down and kisses your forehead before he pads toward the kitchen.

You drift in and out, listening to him cleaning and humming. Then you feel the bed dip and Chris pulls you into his body. He is so much bigger than you, so when he wraps himself around you, it feels like a warm cocoon. You wiggle a bit into him and he giggles. It doesn't take long before you both fall into a peaceful sleep.

#chris motionless x reader #chris motionless #halloween #smut #dark and dirty #dark romance #its all about that aftercare #18+ content #carnal #supernatural

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tortabi · 7 months

Text

#sexy #beauty #culos ricos #bikini #cola #colas #esposa infiel #carnal #carne para fornicar

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outragedtortilla · 18 days

Quote

Not a poem Just a scream Like a carnal Internal eternal scream

poetry

#poetry #poem #thoughts #carnal #internal scream #lucy dot txt

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woundgallery · 1 year

Photo

CINDY SHERMAN, Untitled (MP #113), 1982, Colour photograph on paper

#cindy sherman #self-portrait #art #photography #feminist art #contemporary art #smoking #carnal

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pascalsbby · 4 months

Text

CARNAL / 7 : RUIN

Chapter 6 / Masterlist

Summary: 4.5k, f!reader, dark!joel, dbf!joel, try and mess with my birdie again!joel

Warnings: 18+ mdni, SMUT, violence! guns, cum eating, car sex, dominate & aggressive joel, ANGSTTTT

A/N: This is officially the penultimate chapter. The amount of love I’ve been shown over and over again has been so overwhelmingly beautiful, and it all started with Birdie and Joel. I am so thankful for each and every one of you. I’m so nervous to end this. What if it isn’t what you wanted or expected? What if I miss them too much? I guess that’s the point, that love hurts.

But we both know how it goes– I say I want you inside me and you hold my head underwater, I say I want you inside me and you split me open with a knife.

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

You huffed at Joel, thinking he wasn’t really asking you to lick his cum from another man’s seat. His demeanor changed, “Don’t make me repeat myself, sweet girl.”

You looked around his face and settled on his drooping bottom lip before he took it between his teeth. “Joel.” A half-whispered and hidden word. You’ve never been able to fill the room with his name the way you want to, the way he fills you, always sneaking away from the crowd and having to whisper it into the palm of his hand– whispering it into the coarse hair at the base of his cock.

He clawed at your ass, making the fat rumble in your soft skin, the slap echoing into the golden hour around the both of you. The streetlights were dim but becoming brighter as the sun sunk and the inevitable end of the party approached. None of the chatter from the backyard mattered, the dog barking a couple of houses down, cars passing a couple streets over. He mattered. You had waited so long to be seen by him again. To be prayed to. To be drooled over. Even the sound of his deeper breathing made the air feel electric. Like breathing it again, mattered.

You felt like a fucking animal that needed to be leashed to the corner of a heavy table. It took you a while to understand why your body takes over when you’re around him— his depravity was familiar. You saw yourself in him, and that consisted of you both wordlessly pushing down emotions and fucking them out of each other instead, molding into one another in a release of anger, tears, lust. This is how you bond, fucking each other to scare off the elephant in the room. Fucking yourselves when you coulnd’t reach one another.

When his hands were upon you, he was paying attention to you, and Joel paid attention to what made you nearly weep under the weight of his want. It was a fine physical partnership, mostly because whatever he wanted became what you wanted. A blurred line between want and need in Joel-shaped bruises in your fat.

His big, brown eyes were gracing your body, searching, as if he was looking for any sign that another man had been here. You stick your tongue out and stare at him before digging your nose into John’s seat, your breath hitting the leather as you slide your tongue through his cum. You would do anything to make him happy. He knows that. He loves this.

You want him to love you.

He does.

You gag.

Quietly, you reminded Joel that you were in someone else's truck.

“Gotta go back before someone comes out here. Don’t want John to catch us, Joel.”

He scoffed.

“Wish he fucking would. Then he could see me buried in my pretty pussy.”

You could see Joel behind you, blocked slightly as you hear his cock hit his stomach and he sighs in relief, his veiny length thick and unshy. He whimpered as he slid his wide thumb across his wet tip. His half-breath grumbles were what made your slick drip down your swollen and still-quivering lips.

He bent down and pulled your lips apart, whispering into you, “Look at her, cryin’ for me.” He was a man starved. The cold of the night disappeared as his tongue did the same into you, loud and vile as he sucked around your entire propped up center, not missing one inch of skin inside or out. The feeling of his mustache moving with his lips as he sucks on you, tickles you, is too much. You come on his beard, flattened to his face, messy and wet from devouring you.

“Doin’ s’good, cleaning up Daddy’s mess n’ letting him clean you up, too.” He stretched his palm across your head and pressed your tongue and nose into his cum once again. And you let him.

Joel heard a car unlock and his hand was immediately pulling your hair knotted in his knuckles backward, your face pulling up from the leather seat with force, startled that he might get caught. For Joel to be caught at the scene of his crimes? That was unheard of.

You heard the zip of his pants before his hands were back on you, warm, and pulling down your dress in a hurry. His thumb missed at first, dipping into your mouth before moving across your lower lip, trying to smudge the spend away that was still dripping down your chin. With one hand entangled in your hair and his other smeared with his cum, he did what he had to do, leaning into you as he licked himself off of your chin seconds before it dripped between your breasts.

He growled at the taste of himself mixed with your skin. Soft, salty. Carnal. Unintentional, like his body forced it outwards because it was too heavy to carry alone. Like even he was slightly surprised at what he’d just done. But it’d been months since your skin was between his teeth, and he’d trace every bulging vein down your neck with his tongue if you would just call his name, Joel Joel Joel.

There was silence, birds chirping in the trees, and another pair of cowboy boots knocking against the pavement. You knew that cadence well, they sounded just like the ones currently gracing Joel’s feet.

“Miller!” You jumped at the intense intrusion and then tried to relax your shoulders before they swallowed your ears and gave away your guilt.

A man walked towards the both of you as Joel pushed your body away from him, discreetly but not gentle enough as you tried to regain your standing. You didn’t know the man’s name but he was usually at these backyard parties. How many middle-aged men live in this fucking neighborhood?

“Be careful sweetheart, can’t have you falling. Don’t wanna have to carry you back in there to your daddy with a busted knee.” Too many.

You opened your mouth to tell this man that your daddy wouldn’t give a fuck. The person who would is the one standing right next to you.

Joel huffed, then coughed. A warning. The man moved topics quickly as if he vaguely understood.

“Haven’t seen you around the shop recently, Hana’s been asking where you’ve been.” His attention returned to Joel.

“Hana?” You scoffed, out loud. You were out of place and awkward, standing smaller than both of them. This conversation was meant for the men.

“‘Must be one of Sarah’s friends! Haven’t seen ya around and Hana knows so many people it’s hard to keep up sometimes.”

What a proud father.

I wonder how entitled he would be to share that information if he knew that Hana was once (probably not shy of ten times actually, knowing anything about Joel) speared on his wet cock instead of babysitting, as she had most likely claimed? You wonder if he knows that Joel’s cock has been buried inside of your warmth, too. A few minutes ago, actually. With the way you are both standing, hidden by a truck door, missing from the party for nearly twenty minutes.

“I’ve just been keeping my head down Drew, working, you know. But I’ll drop by soon, I need to fix a broken toilet in the upstairs bathroom and I need a flange replacement.”

“Well we’re always open for you Joel, you know that. Don’t be a stranger.” With that, he looked between the two of you and you swore recognition flashed in his eyes before he patted Joel on the shoulder and walked towards your back gate.

I wonder if he knows, you thought. Men tend to stay quiet for each other like that. Having each other's backs regardless of it means choosing him over your own daughter. Especially if it means keeping it out of the public eye. It’s easier to call your daughter a liar than to deal with the ‘consequences’ of her reality.

“Not the only thing that’s always open it seems.” You mumbled, immediately hoping that he didn't hear it. How utterly unfeminist of you to blame the girl. You weren’t any different than her; enamored, prayed to… paid. But it seems like he brings out the worst in you. But being the worst is better than whatever empty shell has been dragging its way through whatever the fuck these past twenty-something years have been.

You have the crashing realization that you feel alive with him. The blood coursing through your body has purpose, now.

As soon as the top of the man’s head disappeared through the fence, Joel started in on you. Best to put a child in their place before they have a chance to speak and form a conclusion of their own, no? You recognized the bad in him, yet you still let it devour you.

“This what you wanted, Birdie? For people t’ know? Dropping little hints like it’s your fuckin’ job, huh? First you make sure I walk in on whatever the fuck was going on with John… knew I’d be back there so you knocked on the neighbor's door and asked him to fuck you with his eyes in front of your family? In front of me?” Pointing at his stuffed chest. He was so much taller than you but it wasn't something you thought of often until he towered over you. You knew there was more to this than a random man and a disgusted accidental namedrop of his previous fuck toy.

“Then…” he looked around, trying to gain composure before scolding you like a child, ”then you make me come out here and lose myself in you again?”

“Make you? You fucking followed me out here, Joel.”

“Lower your goddamn voice, Birdie. I came out here because I knew you wanted me to.”

He was right. About all of it. You can’t be alone for long. You need something or someone there sitting just on the outside to remind you that you aren’t dissipating into the floor of your bedroom.

Maybe that’s why you never saw Joel coming, either, because the quicksand was already up to your knees and no one in your life ever taught you how to save yourself, they had only taught you that they would not be the ones to pull you to safety. You knew you wouldn’t be able to save yourself, either.

The way he sticks to you makes you feel taken care of and looked after. He treats you like a woman in need of guidance, but he never judges you for it. Unless he’s scolding you, in that case you feel like a child again. It feels nice to feel like a child around him, because you know that in one way or another he will hold you like one too, once it’s all said and done.

Then he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So of course you did what you know, offering your body to whomever would most closely fill the Joel-shaped hole. You hoped that he would be here to see that you had indeed found another man, and this one could stand before your family. Now, Joel is standing right in front of you. It’s been months… and you hate him. You hate him so bad that the hate has turned to love.

You love him.

“Yes Joel, I want you. I need you. I have needed you this whole time you were probably off filling some other twenty-something year old. But fuck, I want you to get a fucking grip. You left me.” Desperate and too loud. “For months. I needed you and you just left me. I thought you would be the one who wouldn’t leave me. I lost Sarah too. My best fucking friend. And you know how much I hate this fucking house and I haven’t even been writing or painting and–”

You had never actually spoken to him about it all. But he knew. You were tired of arguing, of never being right. Of always being treated like a child but expected to act like an adult.

He filled the immediate silence, but his tone was more tender this time.

“You thought I was with another woman?” He looked as if you may have well dug your hands into his chest and tore him limb from limb.

Each month without him an envelope would show up, usually on a Thursday. Those used to be your days. It was shoved into your window pane accompanied by a soft knock. You never caught him despite the foul amount of time you spent looking out the window, waiting for him to come and save you again. You didn’t even need rent money anymore but it was always there and he never was. You were saving it in a hidden box with to get the fuck out of here scribbled in thick black marker on one side.

You thought about just showing up, as it wasn’t something he himself was ever opposed to when it came to you. Except for when you really wanted him too. Needed him too.

Last month you couldn’t sleep and the edibles were making you more restless than relaxed. You got up at 4:24 am and sat yourself down at your desk, got out an old notebook and picked up a pen for the first time since graduating. You started a note to Sarah that still sits unfinished on the second page of the college-ruled journal.

I saw it in his eyes, Sarah. It started months ago, before he left the first time and this was all still a secret. When I saw him again… you were looking down and trying not to let the tear slide down your cheek and into the black ink. That would be weak of you, to deliver a note to your lover's daughter and have it soiled with your tears, while apologizing for the pain you caused her.

I swear I saw it swell and dare itself to fall out of his eyes right then and there; love. And I’m so sorry for hurting you. I felt seen and heard. I felt held, Sar.

You accepted his angry disappointment and let it lay over you like a blanket, familiar. It meant he was there, he was in reach and your fingers could get lost in the curls on the back of his head. So you sat there and admired the wrinkles between his glaring eyes. Beautiful fucking eyes. Indulgent, and prodigal in the way he refuses to let you go. He lowered his voice and moved his curls out of his face.

“Do you know how much of my life I’ve risked to put you first? It cost me my daughter’s trust. She will never look at me the same again. And my pride,” he said your name and his jaw hardened, the apparent sour taste of you leaving his mouth, “my pride baby girl. Do you know how much it hurts me that you just found another man?”

You were crying, the tears warming the red of your embarrassed face. He had done his shaming, his job at keeping you in your place. Now he would complete the circle like a snake eating its own tail.

He will tear you limb from limb knowing that his warmth is the only thing able to glue you back together; then he will pull you into his core and comfort you. You will be five, seventeen, twenty-five, in his arms.

It would be hard to tell what he was feeling if you didn’t know him, but you do, and his sadness is so discreetly and gently placed under the cover of his angry brown eyes. Your tears turned to sobbing and it all felt like it was going to fall out of you and onto the ground in front of his feet.

“Stop cryin’.”

He reached down and started low, tracing his thick fingers up your inner thigh, tickling against his carved initials and causing your clit to swell. He lowered his voice and spoke to you like you were a child in trouble.

Here it is, the wordless apology. Touching and heavy breathing.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about opening that computer and clicking on your name again? Just to hear the mess your pussy makes when it sees me? How you pool around the base of whatever cock you decided to stuff yourself with that night and then regret it because it wasn’t mine.”

“Fuck.” It left your lips with a moan and an even bigger sob that you could no longer hold inside. He didn’t flinch and didn’t show any sign of acting on his movements rather than to tease you, see if he went too far or if you would still melt under his stained black work hands.

He moved one finger down the ticklish part of your neck and traced your skin to your hip. Then he removed his touch from your skin and once again stepped backward. Like a father’s friend should stand.

He got what he wanted out of you, always does. And most of the time you yearn for the ache in your knees on the rare occasions you don’t give in. Giving in meant pleasure, but it was always accompanied by pain when it came to him.

It was a consistent push and pull, give and take. He was so generous in the beginning, giving his money, time, and his cum, all in your name. He knew that to win you over you have to first, give. Now he takes and you happily oblige.

He has a unique knowledge of you, one that you really didn’t even recognize in yourself. Which is ironic, considering all you do is sit and burrow in your own psychoanalyzation. Trauma recognizes itself, even when it isn't directly yours. He had been around long enough to recognize himself in you.

Then, you heard the end cadence of your name.

As he stepped backwards the footsteps stopped behind the two of you. Caught. And you prayed to a God you knew wouldn’t answer that it wasn’t your dad.

Neither of you turned around to face him.

“Knew you’d go right back and fall down on all fours for him when you had the chance. God,” John laughed, “you’re a fucking whore. N’ not even the good kind that’ll suck your dick when you ask. I asked nicely, didn’t I? But not nice enough. Unless you’re Joel of course.”

And suddenly it didn’t matter that this was to all be a secret. You, standing a few cars down from your front door, hair a mess and cherry-flavored chapstick smudged down your face. Joel’s cum hardened where his tongue missed. Mascara running down your redended cheeks from either being fucked too well or from the tears that were starting to well up in your eyes again.

There was a high pitched buzzing as your body recognized the danger and began to shut down, watching Joel’s back muscles flinch in anger as he made his way over to John. You knew how deeply Joel was able to feel, and hate was probably not excluded from that depth.

It wasn’t a secret anymore the moment his knuckles cracked against the fat of John’s cheek, seconds before he was on the ground. The birds stopped singing into the night.

Here he was, standing up for you like someone should have done since you took your first goddamn steps. But you were yelling at him to stop. Someone finally came to save you and you were telling him to stop. He was starting in again, pulling his fist back and clenching his jaw, preparing for the impact to hurt him too. But his pain didn’t matter when it came to you

“You think you’re gonna talk to her like that and get away with it? Oh you’ve fuckin’ lost your god damn mind. I really shoulda punched you in your ugly fucking face when you had it in my truck window all those months ago. Spare me the time. Say another word towards her and I will make a pretty painting with your face on this concrete.”

“Oh, but she wasn’t in pain whenever she was calling my name instead of yours. That pussy tastes like goddamn honey, Jo—”

One thing you loved to do was have Joel hold his palm out and let you sit your face in it. It was bigger than your face, but it was warm and strong. Safe. You knew deep down that it was capable of hurting someone but death had not crossed your mind, not until John lay wheezing on the ground, laughing. Half-dead from Joel’s blows, not even able to prepare as he took in a deep breath and got ready to fire again.

Up until this moment you felt like you were a good person to have in life-threatening situations, always level headed and use to immense stress, but for the first time in your life everything around you was moving in slow motion.

You turned and watched as the white of your front door turned black, opening, and it felt like the moment Joel showed up the first (second) time at the gallery. But this felt like a last time type of feeling. It felt like an ending.

“Joel,” you pushed out.

He didn’t even react to your voice. He simply acted as if he’s never heard it. As if it hadn’t, alone, made him rock his hips into whatever the fuck he could fit between the past three months.

“Joel, stop. Someone is coming outside. Please stop. Joel.” Sobs were getting caught in your throat. You started to walk towards him, to set yourself in front of John if that meant that he would stop.

“Birdie, turn around.” You don’t listen, walking towards him. “I said turn arou—“

Another voice broke through. The one you thought you might have heard first. The voice of the first man to ever break your heart. The one who only spoke out in anger. The one who should have been throwing punches at himself all of these years.

“Joel Miller what the fuck are you doing?” He had his pistol by his side. Must have heard the yelling and screaming, and if there is anything a Texas man loves more than the possibility of getting to shoot someone off of his property…

Your dad called your name second, expecting an answer. And now you wished you wouldn’t have tried to stop Joel so that John wasn’t able to open his own mouth and speak the truth you both had been hiding.

You’re eight again, and the sound of his knuckles against the kitchen counter were reverberating through the empty theater atop your head. The only person gracing the red lined theater seats is you. Small, child you, looking at the screen and out the front of your head.

“She—“ John is stuttering through already swollen and broken lips, Joel shakes him as a warning not to open his mouth further, “she’s fucking him.”

Silence. Other people had followed your dad outside, including your mother. Admist the audience was Sarah, who you had not known was here the entire time. Her face was twisted in pain, and you knew that this was your fault. This was more pain for her and it was all because of you.

It was quiet, everyone was in shock, besides the night birds singing. The hum of the orange streetlights above. Joel’s heavy breathing and John’s slight wheezing from being hit over and over and—

Your dad’s jaw sits tight. He opened his mouth and the sky felt like it was going to fall.

“Excuse me?” That was a threat and his body was closing in on Joel imminently. People were yelling, but it sounded far away. He cocked his gun and the clicking was drowned out by your mothers screaming.

“I fucking knew something was happening. How dare you, you sick fuck.”

You begged, talking fast, “Dad stop. John thinks he saw something but Joel was helping me find my keys I dropped in the truck. He came here to leave but I asked him to help me instead.”

You knew what came next—always had. Because proverbial fists were for the women of his life. Actual fists were for the men. Bullets were for his inflated masculine ego.

“Dad, plea–”

“You shut the fuck up.” He was talking to you.

Joel’s boots were hitting the ground again as he dropped John’s collar, closing in on your dad. He managed to grab Joel by his shoulders before he could submit him to the same fate as John.

“I don’t care if you are her Daddy, you better not ever speak to her like that again.” His strong nose was pushing into your dads, eye to eye.

“Her sayin’ not to talk to you, spending time over at your house. Does Sarah know?”

His finger pushed up against Joel’s chest.

“That’s my daughter Joel. Do you want me to prance down the street and right through your front door to fuck your daughter right under your nose?”

He lifted the gun towards Joel and you were screaming. It took a moment to register that it was you, your throat burning as Sarah screamed behind you.

Of course it would be this man to take Joel away from you.

Joel huffed a deep and viscous laugh. He looked over to you for the first time in minutes and pain filled his eyes. But they were wide open and focused on the gun pointed directly at his head. You nodded towards him for some reason, giving him permission for whatever he was about to say.

“You know what? I fucking dare you to kill me for being the only one here that has ever taken care of your daughter, you motherfucker.”

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

A long and sappy thank you / 1K followers post is coming soon 😚

Taglist: @strang3lov3 @chaotic-mystery @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rubyfruitjungle @leeeesahhh @blackvelveteen1339 @huffle-punk @ssssc0m @paleidiot @sarap-77 @silkiers @gracevn @scarletsloveletter @livingdeadmaria @morallyinept @kittenprincess710 @jubilee82 @cool-iguana @vickywallace @capitulo3-celos @taeslarityy @moonlightdreamingworld @worhols @milla-frenchy @sheepdogchick3 @gasolinerainbowpuddles @justagalwhowrites

#CARNAL #joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #smut #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #bfd!joel #best friends dad #dads best friend

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random-xpressions · 10 months

Text

The flesh - is as thirsty as the soul...

Random Xpressions

#flesh #carnal

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bloodyknucklesforme · 2 months

Text

Drag My Teeth Across Your Beating Heart | Carnal XV

Carnal (adjective) : relating to or given to crude bodily pleasures and appetites

Simon was born with what his father called 'The Curse'. A wanton craving for taboo meat. Since meeting the similarly cursed Johnny, the two had formed a bond. They didn't just fight together, they ate together, slept together, and shared everything.

When a favor to Price reveals another cursed person, Simon worries she could destroy everything.

Masterpost

CW: cannibalism, smut, voyeurism

This is very much a horror fic mostly based around the films Raw (2017) and Bones and All (2022), if you sit through those you should be good here. This is my first horror fic.

Chapter Title Credit: Howl - Florence + The Machine

Body disposal isn't hard, not for Simon. It was a ritual. One passed down from his father.

Disfigure

Dismember

Dispose

As easy as any prayer. On his knees, a rag over his mouth and nose, a saw in hand. A ritual like any other. This time it felt like mass without the sacrament. Nothing to slip into his mouth, no savior, no priest.

He’d never been one for church. His mum had dragged him and Tommy a couple times mostly for Christmas and Easter Sunday. The only days that mattered. They’d been baptized Catholic because that’s what his father was raised as but never did any of the following sacraments. They’d stopped going by the time he was ten and he stopped believing in any possibility of a God after that first meal with his father.

He had a new religion. Led by his father. He supposed all fathers are god in a sense. That’s what it felt like the first time they ate together. Divine Salvation.

The stable smelled like rot. It was cold enough that the body hadn’t started to turn to sludge but the smell was acrid. He stripped his clothes and left them folded on a table in the tack room. Skin is easier to clean than cloth.

As many pieces as possible. Start with the joints and a brick, smash until the bones break then cut through the flesh. Humans are fragile. His father had taught him that at a young age. Even the smooth leather of a belt could cut skin if struck hard enough. Soft skin made him feel vulnerable. Calluses were armor.

He liked soft on others. Spilling between his fingers. Made him feel powerful. A show of strength to hold something fragile and not break it apart.

Nina looked soft, like the flesh of her neck would mold into his hands. His arm had wrapped around her waist so fittingly.

Johnny still had soft parts. Thighs, neck, arse. His favorite position was Johnny on his back, thighs wrapped around his waist. Simon would grip his arse like it held him to earth. Simon’s teeth would drag against Johnny’s throat. He’d cum inside him and Johnny’s spend would slick between them.

When Johnny asked Simon to bite him last Summer, it twisted something nasty in his stomach. The monster he’d always fought down reared its head. The same monster that controlled his father. The one that took control in Mexico all those years ago.

He hacked and hacked at the body. The smaller the parts the better. The harder to reconstruct, the easier to scatter. He’d seen crows nearby. He could feed them over the winter with this. Simon never liked waste.

He took a hammer to the teeth, porcelain pieces. Tips of the fingers cut off. No tattoos to skin off this time. Man to meat.

It took several hours. The floor of the stall was covered in blood. He was covered in blood. There was a hose, still working. He gathered the meat into a cooler and sprayed down the stall and then himself. He paced the stable, keeping his blood warm while he dried off.

There was something sweet in the air. Straw and glass, brown with Nina’s blood from the other day. Johnny’s scent was mixed in there too. She’d been wearing his clothes at the time. His cock twitched. He smacked the side of his face to snap himself back.

Gathered his clothes and walked back to the house. He heard them as he stepped inside. Johnny’s hurried babbling and Nina’s moans. He quietly took his boots off and crept towards the sound. It was wrong, yes. Hearing Johnny again made his blood hot.

There was a mirror on the wall opposite them. From his angle in the hall, he could watch unseen. They were mostly clothed, only a small disappointment. His cock strained against his jeans.

They looked good together. Like something meant to be. Even with Johnny’s lack of experience he could work her up well. Simon watched the muscles in her back stretch, sweat glide down her back. He wanted to walk in, lick it off. Slip his hand between her legs. Tell Johnny what to do, how to touch her. He wanted to show her where to nip and where to kiss. Johnny fell apart whenever Simon’s teeth grazed where his jaw met his ear.

She was crying Johnny’s name. Johnny stared up at her with glazed eyes, the same eyes that used to look at him. Those eyes flicked to the mirror and Simon took a step back. He crept back down the hall and outside. He walked back to the stable.

He found himself by the pile of bloodied straw and glass. He grabbed a handful of straw and held it near his face, breathing in. He fumbled with his zipper and button, haphazardly pulling his cock out.

His fantasies were a crowded mess of bodies, sweat and cum. Nina and Johnny’s smell mixing with his, herby and sweet. All the positions they could arrange themselves in. Take turns riding and fucking. He wanted Nina to sit on his face while Johnny rode him. Fuck Johnny while he buried his face into Nina’s cunt.

Simon groaned, cum mixing with the mess on the floor in front of him. He sighed, shaking his hand off. He’d have to wash the floor again.

He stood, looking at the floor, the smell making his eyes roll back. He wanted the three of them to be together. He would make it happen. He tried being the lone wolf. Separate himself from Johnny but look at what had happened. They both needed him. Johnny can’t hunt on his own and Nina seemed incapable of it entirely. He’d have to teach them both. Keep them alive.

They’d have this house, some place to stay. No more shitty hotels and hostels or car back seats. He could outfit the cellar to better butcher meat.He never told Johnny but he didn’t even have a flat himself. Any leave had him traveling around, hunting and camping. They’d never go hungry. It could be good. Something stable.

He thought about his family. The ones he failed. He could still smell them, his stomach twisting while his mouth watered. He made a vow that night. He was the only one allowed to eat his loved ones. It was only right. His right. He’d failed them. He wouldn’t fail Johnny or Nina.

He made dinner that night. Steak cooked with garlic, butter and thyme. The smell dragged both Johnny and Nina out of their bedrooms and to him. Nina’s hair was still damp from her shower. Made the whole house smell like vanilla.

“Nina,” he said after they’d all sat down. She looked up from her plate. Her chair was touching Johnny’s. Simon laid a hand on Johnny’s thigh, earning a side glance. “I want to teach you how to hunt.”

“When?” She asked through a mouthful of food.

“This weekend.”

“Si-” Johnny attempted to interrupt.

“Do you want to learn?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he smiled.

Tag list: @gogh-with-the-flow @queen-ilmaree @cathnoneofyourbusiness @pssytrux

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