#CANNIBALISM TW
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đđđđđđ | Joel Miller x reader x Tommy Miller
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summary | a moment of desperation and a kind gesture leads you down an inescapable path alongside two brothers and a town with a nasty secret
author's note | so. its been three months and a much needed break from this place, but i started this back in august with a fully fleshed out idea and then my motivation fell flat. i had a good chunk of this done and i love it too much to not post, even if just for myself. this will be two parts, this one and one coming in the near future. its so self-indulgent and not everyone's cup of tea. but an extra special thank you to the special and lovely people i talked about this with and that took a look at for me, i love you endlessly.
content warning | 18+ smut, dubious consent (relating to cannibalism), cannibalism, gore, mentions of violence, blood, demeaning language, joel is a hardass, high tension and angst, joel has weird kink relating to...you guessed it, this story is heavily joel leaning but tommy is a decent part of it, smut (oral), night swims, food/feeding tw, joel is a bit of creep here. please heed the warnings and pass if it's not your thing.
word count â14k
Long, desolate roads led you here. No telling how long you had until you would find the city skyline again, car running on fumes for the last ten miles, the sign at the end of the road pulling your attention up, eyes peering through the windshield as your car veered to the right and to a full stop.
Millerâs Farm, next right
Helped wanted, no experience needed
Hourly pay and lodging included
You had fifty bucks left in cash and half of that would go toward gas if you could find a gas station, your arms crossed over the steering wheel and blocked the blow to your forehead as you rested it against your forearms in frustration.The carâs AC was shotty at best, requiring you to hit it every half hour to keep it alive and even then it was a weak sputtering and a barely there chill that did nothing to quell the layer of sweat on your skin.
It takes several long, frustrating minutes before you decide that you donât have any other option.
You were stranded, this was it.
Maybe hospitality extended this far out into the country, that even this far from the city there were still a few good, decent people around. With a deep, heavy sigh you exit the car and shove your key into the door, locking it and pocketing the keys into the pack slung over your shoulder.
Itâs been weeks on the road, leaving pieces and pieces of you behind as you traveled. The lesser the weight, the lesser the burden. Were you running? You werenât sure. But, staying in one place for too long made you antsy. Town to town, taking odd jobs where they were offered, living off the kindness of others in hopes of making it somewhere seaside.
Start a new life, forget about your past.
Austin wasnât supposed to be your final stop, or even a detour, but the steps you took down the side of the road and toward the farm in the distance would be another place of temporary sanctuary. Hopefully.
Eventually the asphalt turns to dirt, kicking up gravel under your feet as you walk and covering your skin in a thin layer of fresh grime and sweat under the high noon sun. The barn, once a far-off dot, was now large and vibrant, that distinct red popping out amongst the rest of the dilapidated property, void of most color outside of dull brown. There was a house to the left, cluttered with a melody of things. Tools, furniture, plants, and things you couldnât even recognize.Â
You squint, hand over your brow like a makeshift visor as you look around and hope to see someone, anyoneâthis couldnât be the wrong place?
A truck under the hastily built carport and a trailer attached to the hitchâsomeone was home. You look around carefully, peering over your shoulder and finding nothing. There was no wind, no noise, and your breath caught in your throat.Â
Maybe this was the time to turn back and attempt your chances elsewhere.
The front door opening with a creak has your head whipping back over your shoulder to set sights on the person in front of youâa man, tanned skin and tall. He was stocky but lean, black hair tucked behind his ears and trimmed just above his shoulders. He looked clean, which was more than you could say for yourself. All clean-cut man, jeans and a casual shirt, boots tucked under his jeans as his hand curled around the front door of the house and half of his figure leaned out.
âCan I help you, darlinâ?â The twang flows out of his mouth naturally, taking a few steps out of the house before heâs closing the door behind him and following the small path of the front yard masked with clutter until heâs near you, a few feet away. âYou lost?â
âIâI saw the sign?â You implore, jutting your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of the road, âMy car ran out of gas, Iâm out of money and itâs hot. I was just hoping for some work to help get me back on my feet and out of your hair as quickly as possible.â
The man nods, readying to open his mouth before you continue.
âI donât mind the work, Iâm not picky. I donât have a resume or anything, but I promiseââ
âWoah, slow down,â You can hear the amusement, a smirk pulling at his face and you chew at your bottom lip nervously, fingers twisting around the straps of your backpack, âWeâre not lookinâ for some hoity toity types with degreesâyou comfortable gettinâ dirty?â
You glance down at your clothes, a few days without a shower and driving down sideroads with your windows down has made you look worse for wear, âAbsolutely. I just need the money and a bed, couch evenâyou wonât even know Iâm here if thatâs an issue for you. I can keep busy.â
You glazed over the we in his response, looking around curiously again.
He extends his hand unexpectedly, âIâm Tommy,â He introduces and you take his hand softly, feeling him squeeze firmly at your grip and the smirk in his face soften into a smile, âlistenâwe donât do the whole hirinâ process. I gotta run it by my brother Joel and thereâs a few cautionary steps we gotta take due to the work, but we can give it a test run? See how you feel?â
You felt inclined to ask what the work was, but you decided not to be picky.
And like a dinner bell had been rung, the other man appears out of the barn.
Joel, a stark difference to his brother in stature and cleanliness but the resemblance was uncanny in the way they carried themselves. A similar stride that felt intimidating, broad shoulders stretched out over taught muscle and a matching resting scowl on his face.
Something told you his expression was more permanent, though. His brow pulls together, eyes squinting as he looks you over. He was wiping at his dirtied hands with a rag, a sheen of maroon drying to brown that you could only assume was blood.Â
It was a farm. Animals. That meant slaughter.Â
The thought of it didnât make you vomit initially, so you considered that a good thing.
It takes one look and heâs giving a disparaging shake of his head, turning his head toward his brother to offer his opinion, âAinât worth the trouble.â
You instantly grimace, offering a less than subtle look of distaste at that man.
Stubbornness is what he notices immediately, but then your eyes are flicking back toward his brother who looks more confused now than when you had first approached the farm.
âYou said you were outta gas, right? Just needinâ some extra money?â He confirms and you answer with a simple nod of your head. He looks over at Joel, arms crossing over his chest, âSaid she doesnât mind gettinâ dirtyâwilling to help out wherever. Iâm sure we can find her some work, right?â
Joel looks you over slowly, a predatory gaze that makes you feel infinitely smaller. He was staring through you, seeing the deepest and darkest parts of your soul. His eyes were darker, nearly black and ringed with deep set under eyes from an obvious lack of sleepâwhereas Tommy, he was chipper and well-rested, eyes a warm amber and much more inviting.
âYou slaughter cattle before?â Joel asks, âCleaned up shit? Worked on a farm? Anything like that?â
You shake your head but quickly respond before he has a chance to speak, âI donât care what the work isâIâll do it. If I need to be taught, Iâm willing to learn. Iâm a quick learner too.â
Devotion is what he senses at a slower rate, the slow blink of your eyes as they flick between the two brothersâhe could give Tommy an ultimatum and turn you away, but something in his gut twists.Â
Sheâs useful, sheâs good. Good supply if it came down to that. Given you passed the tests.Â
But, there was something lingering in your gaze, yet to be discovered. Joel was curious.
âSend her to the doc, give her the guest room,â Joel tells Tommy after a moment of thought, sounding slightly irritated but it forces out the breath you hadnât realized you were holding, âYouâll start work when we know youâre cleared.â
You nod dutifully and Tommy returns a relaxed smile, âItâs a liability thing,â He promises, âand itâs heavy work, better to know if your body can handle it alright before we put you through the ringer.â
âWhatever I need to do,â You return the grin, tracking Joelâs departing figure as he re-entered the barn and disappears, âis he always that angry?â
âUsually,â Tommy replies, rusting around in his back pocket for a set of keys, âIâll give you a ride to the clinic and we can tow your car here tonightâto keep away anyone tryinâ to scalp it for parts. Sounds good?â
âSounds perfect,â You agree, wiping at the sweat on your brow with the back of your hand, âbutâdo you think I could take a quick shower first? Itâs just walking in the heat and itâs been a few days...â
âOh, yeah. Yeah,â Tommy stumbles over his words, but nods for you to follow him inside.
With trepidation, you take your first steps and follow.Â
And what youâre expecting is not what is revealed to you. It made sense that the disorganization would spill into the house, but it was nearly spotless. Pristine countertops and polished wooden furniture, a wall of file cabinets and a tucked away nook with a computer set up. It was like entering another dimension, your eyes tracking along the full expanse of the house before they land on Tommy, whoâs looking on with that same amusement as earlier.
âItâs a lot of work but I try to keep it clean here,â Tommy admits, âThe outside isâŠall Joel, mostly.â
You shake your head with indifference, holding your hands up in defense.
You werenât judging, it wasnât your place.
âThe shower is down that hall,â Tommy points toward the central hall, rooms lining each side, âfirst door on the rightâdid youâdo you have clothes?â
âOnly one clean pair left,â You confess, âbut Iâll make do.â
âWeâve got clothes, if you need them. Donât be afraid to ask.â
Thereâs a responsiveness to Tommy that intrigues youâapproachable, kind, a hard disjunction from his counterpart that was like a breath of fresh air. You donât allow yourself to linger either, making your way to the bathroom with quick footsteps and remaining blind to the rest of the house, hearing a sharp scuffle of a chair that you can only assume is Tommy as he sits and waits.
It was the easiest predicament you've dealt with in the last few months. But you werenât, not even for a moment, going to question it.
-
Itâs a small building near the edge of the town, only a half hour drive from the farm and sat in some silence, you find out a slow trickling of information that Tommy shares, his elbow propped against the open window and the other gripping tight around the steering wheel, his hair a wind-blown mess.
âItâs been in our family for years,â he tells you, traveling down the quiet road and the low hum of the radio mingling with his voice, âsâwhy it's a messâcanât be bothered to part with some of that junk.â
âIâm not judging.â
Tommy offers a look of skepticism, laced with a smile.
âIt is a lot of stuff,â you grin in response, a subtle quirk at the corner of your mouth.
âJoel is a little sentimental,â Tommy adds, âheâs always been like thatâharder for him to let shit go.â
You respond with a gentle nod as Tommy pulls into the parking lot of the clinic, exiting the truck with a swiftness before heâs at the passenger side and opening your own door, âOhâthat is really not necessaryââ
âMy momma would be rollinâ in her grave otherwise,â Tommy gripes playfully as his fingers curl around the open door, âso, just let me, alright?â
You donât argue, chivalry be damned.
There isnât much to be confused about as you step inside the clinic with Tommy in tow. He takes a seat near the door and the doctor, an old man with a limp and someone who refers to Tommy as sonâhe earns a casual nod in return and then youâre led beyond the door to the hall of other rooms.
It was a very typical line of questions, a general physical, and a blood draw that he promised would be pushed through quickly for the benefit of allowing you to work as soon as possible.
You try desperately to ignore the particular aura about the old man, thin-wired glasses perched on his sharp nose, age spots littering his face and bald headâbut the most glaring is the missing pinky fingers on both hands. It was so clean cut and well-healed that you assume it could be something he was born with, but the moment he spots you noticing, he seems to switch gears.
âYouâre all good here,â he tells you, âIf anything comes up Iâll give the Millerâs a callâyouâre lodging there, right?â
Your left eyebrow raises slightly, nodding hesitantly in response.
âGotten a few like you before,â he comments oddly, âIâm not passing any judgment, itâs just a question.â
âYeahâyeah I am. Staying there.âÂ
Increasingly creeped out as the seconds pass you breathe a sigh of relief as he allows you to leave, meeting Tommy at the front door with a less than comfortable expression. His eyes press a silent question but you shrug it off, hearing him bid a polite goodbye over your shoulder as you walk toward the truck.
Eventually, settled into the truck as Tommy turned over the ignition, he responds with comfort, âHe ainât the most approachable guy,â he admits, âbut heâs been helpinâ us for years.â
That was one way of putting it.
âHopefully I pass with flying colors then.â
Tommy shrugs, backing out of the parking lot with his arm thrown over the passenger seat, feeling the slight touch of his fingertips against the back of your neck through the headrest, âWe can figure somethinâ out anyways, seeing as youâre more than eager,â Tommy grins, teeth peeking through, âI like that.
â
Tommy gives you a proper tour when you arrive back, nothing extensive but he does walk you around the property. He shows you the animal pens; pigs, goats, a few cows wandering around the pasture. And the barn, but he doesnât enter. You note the lock hanging from the doors, clunky and rusted but securing the doors closed.
The inside of the house is less of a mystery, following Tommy as he lead you into the kitchen and showed off the expensive counter space and deep set sinkâif they didnât put a lot of effort into cooking then you didnât understand the reasoning for the size, but as the thought floods your mind, Tommy plucks it out and answers it.
âJoel is a better cook than me,â he admits, âanother bonus, home-cooked meals, a lot of our meats are ethically-sourcedââ The look you shoot his way is quizzical.
âGrass-fed and theyâre free to roam and forage for the most part, weâre not stuffinâ them full of grain feed to fatten âem up. We try to keep things humane. Joel deals with most of the dirty work and I stick to numbers and talkinâ,â he explains, âhe ain'tâ much for socializing.â
Joel enters at the mention of himself, grunting as he steps beyond the threshold. His coveralls hung around his waist, tied at the hips and the dirty undershirt stretched tight over his broad chest. He peeled off his boots at the door and Tommy leaned against the counter lazily, one foot crossed over the other as he folded his arms and looked over at you, eyes slowly dragging to his brother.Â
âShe cleared?â He asks briskly, âOr we sendinâ her on her merry way?â
âJoel,â Tommy chastises and Joel smirks, taking a quick glance over at you, âdoc said heâd call in the morning and let us know, we can spare a meal and a bed for a night.â
Almost as if you two werenât even there, he strips off his dirtied shirt and works at the tie around his hips with the hand free of the balled up cloth, âHope you like mess, girl.â
âIâm not picky,â You shrug, resting your hands loosely against your hips as he walks toward the same hallway you had traveled down earlier, âA little mud and grime wonât kill me.â
Joel chuckles softly at that, fully disparaging, âBlood make you squeamish?â
You shake your head, noting the caked bits of dried blood tucked in the crook of his arms and the creases of his neck, a faint pink tint from his chin down, âAs long as it isnât mine.âÂ
Tommy seems to tense at your wording, his arms flexing tight as he eyed his brother under a downturned gaze, staying quiet under the domineering energy his brother exuded.
âShe might just survive âround here,â he directs at his brother, a smarmy remark although more boastful than he had been since the first time he spoke, but the distaste for you still lingered, oozed right out of the disingenuous smirk crossing his face.
He ainât much for socializing.
It would only take a few weeks, you think. A few weeks and a couple cash payments and you could move onto the next place on your never-ending roadmap. You feel yourself breathing out a sigh of relief as Joel disappears, not realizing how long you had been holding it in.
âSâmuch as Iâd like to have nice home-cooked meal, I think itâd be better if I grab some dinner from the dinner down the road,â Tommy offers, keys clutched in his grip as he rocks on his heels, âIâm gonna pick up your car on the way back, like I promised.â
And then he smiles, again. But, thereâs a moment when it finally reaches his eyes and you canât help but return the gesture, âIâŠthink Iâll hide out in the guest room until you come back,â you admit, pointing toward the hallway, âno offense to your brother, butââ
âDonât take it personally,â Tommy assures, âdonât let âem intimidate you, either.â
Fight fire with fire.Â
It wasnât your forte, but you were hellbent on survival and you would adapt if you had to.
-
Youâve spent the last half hour sorting through a puzzle on your haphazardly made bed, chin tucked into your palm, eyes tracking over the pieces until you could find a suitable match and slotting it into place before repeating the process. The deft shift and click of a door being shut pulls your attention upright, assuming it was Tommy, you clamber out of bed.
What you arenât expecting is the solid chest that slams into your side, senses overwhelmed with the strong smell of aftershave and clean body washâit wasnât a particular scent, justâŠclean.
You look over, find Joel with a perturbed look on his face, a dinner plate hovering above your head and his expression turning more and more grim as time passes. âSorry,â you mumble, âthought you were Tommy.â
âI look like Tommy to you?â
You tilt your head, expression pinching together in annoyance.Â
Intimidation, just like Tommy had mentioned.
âYeah,â you respond coarsely, âbut at least heâs not acting like someone shit in his foodâdo you treat everyone like this who comes through here? Is that why you canât keep people around here?â
His arms drop then, strutting past you with heavy footsteps as he makes his way to the sink, dropping the dirty dishes and pressing his hands into the edge of the center island that sat opposite the line of cabinets and countertops.
âYou runninâ?â Joel asks curiously, ignoring your initial question. âCops gonna come lookinâ for you?â
You balk, offended by his asinine line of questioning.Â
âThatâs none of your business,â you respond to the first question before spitting out a venomous, âNoâwhat? Scared of a couple cops? Are you hiding something, Joel?â
That seems to strike a nerve decently enough that he rises, creeping around the edge of the island until heâs striding toward you, a hair's breadth away as you swallow hard.
You couldnât help itâhe was large, intense, intimidating without trying. He didnât have to speak, the image of him did the work itself. Even as he looked more approachable, clean clothes and a freshly shaven face down to a thin layer of stubble, almost normal in appearance. But, thereâs rage behind his eyes. It simmers slowly, a creeping boil that would come back to bite you if you allowed it.
âNo,â he responds truthfullyâat least, it seemed that way. His voice never wavered or faltered, he was strong and believable with his words, âbut two things you âoughta knowâone, donât go snooping around where your nose doesnât belong. Two, keep to yourself in this town.â
âAnd if I donât?â
âYou donât wanna find out,â he responds without hesitation, both of you snapping out of the intensity of the conversation as the front door slides open, a very focused Tommy stepping through the door with hands full of styrofoam containers full of greasy burgers and fries.
âNice,â Tommy notes humorously, âyou two didnât kill each other.â
Yet.
âGot us burgers for dinner,â he explains, holding up the bags, âthat alright?â
Joel clears his throat, hand wiping over his tired expression, âAlready ate,â he responds short, clipped. Tommy doesnât question it, but his eyes immediately catch on you, wondering what he had interrupted as he sees your body relax when Joel steps away. But, he shakes it off, offering a lazy grumble of a noise in response to his brother as he drops the food on the nearby dining table.
The dichotomy in the pairing is strange and you canât comprehend how theyâve managed to co-exist as roommates, let alone siblings. But, they were also strangers. You had nothing but assumptions racking your brain, so you pushed it away.
Eat, sleep, and face the next day with a different attitude. A fresh start.
â
The morning was met with a rustling of two other occupants as they moved about beyond the barrier of your room, voices muffled but constant as they carried on amidst your dreary haze, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. It had been weeks since youâve slept in a decent bed, not the backseat of your car or a mattress that felt like sleeping on a wall of bricks. You didnât have a reason to complain and given the circumstancesâa roof over your head, a space to yourself.
Youâd be stupid to argue otherwise.
Thereâs a quick whistle behind the closed door to your room, followed by a gentle knock.
âCome in,â you say groggily, muffling out the end with a yawn as you stretch your tight limbs and watch as Tommy peaks his head through the open door, already showered and primed up for the day, his gaze lingers on you for a while and watches quietly. It should make you feel uncomfortable, but it does quite the opposite as you offer a shy smile, ââis this the part where you tell me I have to leave?Â
Your hands slap the comforter as he widens the door, letting it thud silently against the wall as he leans against the doorframe, hip cocked into his right hand.
âNo, youâre all clear,â he tells you, nodding over his shoulder, âweâve got a few things for you to do this morning but I wanted to keep it light and let you get adjusted.â
You nod lazily and push yourself out of bed, rubbing at the goosebump chill that spreads over your arms as you feel the kick of cooled air spread through the room, âEnjoy it,â Tommy remarks, âainât gonna feel that good outside.â
Tommy departs with his trademark grin, albeit more subdued by his tired eyes as he knocks his fist against the doorframe. But, as youâre heading for the bathroom across the hall, Joel finds you again.Â
Heâs dressed for what you can only assume is a long day of work, thick pants paired with an even thicker shirt, skin covered from his neck to his feet and far too stuffy for the sticky humidity outsideâhis job couldnât be easy and you werenât faulting him for it, but the scowl on his face is getting under your skin and allowing its claws to find purchase within it.
He takes a sharp bite out of an apple you donât realize heâs holding until it is pressed against his lips, teeth digging into the skin, juices squirting out with the force of it.
âThereâs a full dresser of clothes for you in the corner,â He haphazardly points to the mahogany dresser tucked away in the corner, âdifferent sizes and shit, youâll have to find something. Since you donât have nothinâ.â
You eye him skeptical but donât argue, walking toward the dresser and pulling at the top drawer. It was a mix of new socks and underwear, all pressed and fresh in their packages. The next drawer, a mixture of different shirts varying in shades, sizes, designs. Your head turns on a swivel, watching as Joel takes another bite out of the apple, speaking around the food in his mouth.
âPeople come and go,â he explains vaguely, âalways leavinâ stuff behind, soââ
Again, he waves vaguely in your direction.Â
âGot it,â you answer curtly, turning your attention away from him.
You shake away the looming cloud of discomfort that Joel leaves in his departure and sift through the clothesâat least they were being hospitable. That was more than enough to allow you to push the uneasiness aside for the time being.
-
Tommy heaves the bucket of dirtied blades and utensils, cutting boards, and a collection of other tools that you werenât sure youâve ever seen in your life, all coated with dried, oxidized blood of varying animals, you assume. You didnât think to ask, didnât want to know.Â
Not yet, anyways.
Tommy rested his elbow against the edge of the bucket, having led you to the back of the houseâit was similar to a sunroom, an entire wall of windows that gave you a beautiful view to the fields behind the house. Miles and miles of land, undistributed by the hum of city traffic and noise. The other wall, a dead-on view of the barn that Joel barricaded himself in. Tommy looks over briefly as Joel makes his trek to the locked doors, a metal jug of water in hand, a meat cleaver in the other.
âWell, heâs a ball of sunshine,â you joke before picking through the bucket of items carefully, keeping your fingers clear of the sharp blades, âis this it?â
âMost of it,â Tommy admits, âfor now.â
You nod dutifully and watch as he explains things out in a few steps, rules to follow, a method of attack.
âSo, just rinse at first with some soap, disinfect with the alcohol, then repeat and lay it out to dry. Pretty simple, but they need to be clean,â he stresses, his teeth peeking out beyond his lips as he stresses the syllable on his tongue, âand always use gloves.âÂ
He grabs the rubber pair and offers it over before heâs speaking again, this time his words coming a little more hesitantly, âAlsoâI grabbed your car last night. I was gonna tell you over dinner, but I figured you needed a decent night of sleep.â
âAs long as you found it in one piece,â You joke, fitting your hands into the gloves, and the silence has your heart dropping into your gut, âyou did, right?â
âYeah,â his voice wavers with hesitation, eyes squinting slightly in a tell that he wasnât offering the full truth and you tilt your head, mouth turning down in frustration, âbutâit was pretty mangled.âÂ
âYouâre kidding meââ
âTires were slashed,â Tommy holds his hands up, palm out as he attempts to calm you, âthereâs some rowdy kids âround here always causing trouble. Weâll figure it out for you, alright?â
Your jaw tenses, teeth clenched behind a tight smile and you nod jerkily. A hard swallow and harsh breath later youâre looking at him with softer, kinder eyes.Â
âThank you, Tommy,â you tell him, âI feel like Iâm already causing too much trouble for the both of you, doesnât help that Joel would rather see me as roadkill thanââ
Tommy rubs a finger under your chin to pull your gaze to his, a fleeting touch that has you freezing in place but looking up aptly, eagerly. He scrunches his nose slightly and shakes his head, âDarlinâ, weâve dealt with plenty of trouble. You donât even come close.â
You laugh slightly, a grin pulling at the corner of your mouth.
Tommy claps his hands together gently before shoving them into his front pockets, looking over his shoulder briefly before his eyes are back on you, âIâm going to start on some paperwork,â he explains, âcome find me when youâre done?âÂ
You nod dutifully, turning to your task as Tommy leaves.
It isnât hard by any means. Itâs like washing dishes if you ignore the prudent smell and extra scrubbing to get the tools completely spotless before youâre running them through the steps that Tommy had listed off, attempting to ignore how weary your arms felt by the end of it.
Your eyes kept flickering toward the barn throughout, wondering if Joel would surfaceâtwo hours passed and there wasnât any sight of him. It was like he lived in there, a nocturnal animal that needed the seclusion and no direct sunlight. It couldnât be that enjoyable to be held up inside the barn all day.
When youâre finished you carry the bucket into the kitchen and place it on a nearby chair, tracking the back of Tommyâs head. Heâs tucked away in the corner at the desk heâd shown you the other day, typing away and sorting through a small stack of papers.
Curiosity kills, so you wander over.Â
Peeking over his shoulder, nothing really makes sense.
Itâs mostly numbers and an odd mixture of letters, a system that he must have come up with to track the intake of supplies and animals, some of them sorted by what looks like initials.Â
Tommy has a pen between his teeth and a calculator at his fingertips, typing away some numbers that add up to an amount that has your eyes bulging out, quickly realizing that this is none of your business.
He acknowledges your presence then, pulling the pen out of his mouth and looking over his shoulder with a curious expression, âFinished already?âÂ
âYeah,â you tell him, âIâsorryâŠif I was supposed to go slow.â
âOh no, youâre alright,â Tommy turns in his chair, computer screen fading to black behind him, âI still have some stuff to finish upâwhy donât you go check and see if Joel needs anything?â
âAre you sure thatâs a good idea?â
Tommy smirks but not in a way to tease or patronize, he understands the presence his brother gives off, all intimidating and mostly unwelcoming.
âJust give a knock on the door,â Tommy instructs, âdonât go inside, heâs really testy about that. If he needs something heâll answer.â
You compare it to something akin of facing the wrath of some beastly devil, gearing to attack.Â
Tommy offers an encouraging nod that you accept on less than enthusiastic legs, turning and heading out the front door with the surety that Joel would either ignore you or stir up some storm like he had the night prior.
He wasnât nice or cordial, not that he needed to beâbut it wasnât a wonder why they seemed to go through help around the farm, running people off with his hard stares and less than appropriate comments. If making you uncomfortable was his plan, he was succeeding.
-
Itâs quiet outside, morning slowly dissolving into afternoon. Itâs still hot, feeling the rush of hot air hit your face as you make your way toward the barn, noticing the unlatched lock but remembering Tommyâs words.
Donât go inside.
You knock, once with no answer. Again, notably drowned out by the rev of a chainsaw and then silence, a loud bang and rustling of dirt as footsteps come closer, instinctively you begin to step back, scampering away slightly as the door swings open just enough the Joel can fit his body between them, blocking you from peering inside over his large frame.
âYou need somethin?â Joel asks, his tone tight and his eyebrow arched slightly in question, his finger wrapped tight around the rusted handle of the barn door.
âTommy said to check if you needed help,â Joel seems to spot your curious eyes as you attempt to peek around his shoulder, his arm raising to curl around the side of the opposite, unopened door and pulling the open space tighter, his eyes peering down at you, âI finishedâinside.â
âAlready?â His voice is clipped but subtle with surprise, âYou're the first one in weeks that ainât emptied their stomach over that shit.â
It seemed extreme, but you knew that some people couldnât handle things like blood or guts or even the thought of slaughtering animals. But, to you, it wasnât that big of a deal. Sure, it was gross, but it wasnât going to kill you.
âIâve got a strong stomach,â you argue, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly as your gaze refocuses on him, âbesides, I told you blood doesnât make me squeamish. Did you think I was lying?âÂ
âDonât know you,â He shrugs simply, âdonât trust you. Is that what you wanna hear?â
You sigh softly, trying to keep the fraying edges of your temper under control, âIs there anything I can do?â
Joel pauses for a moment, seconds dwindling into a territory that brought you silent discomfort as he looked you over thoughtfully before peering over his shoulder.
âActually, I got some scraps for the pigs. Think you can handle that?â
You hear the disregard in his tone and take the opportunity while he isnât staring you down to roll your eyes, just in time as he turns his head to look at you.
âDo you?â
Joel laughs at that. A genuine laugh, though quiet and short, you hear it. It was proof that he had a legitimate emotion outside of the one built around pure disgruntlement.
He disappears for a moment, barn door slamming shut in your face and before you even have time to breathe, heâs back. It's a heavy metal bin full of minced meat and a faint coppery smell that has you turning your head and huffing under the weight as Joel trades the bin off.
He points around the corner, toward the corralled pigs snorting near the entrance to their pin, sending the impending meal you were holding.
âJust throw it in there,â He gestures vaguely at the trough inside the pin, âtheyâll eat it right up. Oh, clean up the pin while youâre at it, the tools are in the shed out back.â
You nod slowly, digesting the information and feeling the liquid from the bin seep into the front of your shirt, the sensation making you curl inward, gasping at the coldness of it.
âShit,â Joel curses, âshoulda gave you the apron, thatâs always a messy task.â
He sounds honest, but you stare daggers back in return.
âNext time,â He offers with a half smile that makes you sick, âdonât take too longâif you want dinner.â
âIf youâre cooking, Iâll pass.â
Again, Joel chuckles. Twice in the span of five minutes.
God, maybe you were winning him over.Â
âIâm a good cook,â he says confidently, though the snideness in his tone lingers but barely, âyouâll regret sayinâ that.â
You snort softly as you shake your head, turning on your heels and toward the pigs, hearing the soft thud of the barn door.
It takes you a half hour to finish the task, grimacing slightly as the pigs frenzy toward their food, leaving you mostly undisturbed as you clean up the pen, catching Joel with his overalls tied around his waist, sweat dripping down his neck and his hair matted to dirty skin.Â
He seemed normal like this, natural. Dirtied and grimy, a permanent grimace on his face as he traded places with his brother, who was headed toward their truck.
You catch his eye, a waved offer in return for your smile.
Another moment alone with Joel sounded dreadful and maybe sticking out in the remainder of the hot summer day didnât sound too horrible now.
But, the poignant smell of the pig pen was enough to turn anyoneâs stomach, so you choose dread.
-
You and Joel trade off showers silently, working around each other in a less than comfortable silence, mostly trying your best to avoid him entirely, but you can only bear the avoidance for so long.
Freshly showered and in a clean set of tattered lounge clothes, you round the corner into the kitchen and catch Joelâs back, a white shirt stretched over tight muscle as his back tenses when he reaches for the burner, adjusting the heat on the stove.
His keen hearing clues him in, turning briefly over his shoulder to spot you. His expression is softer, but still mostly guarded. With Tommy not around, he was a wildcard.
âWhereâs Tommy?âÂ
Joel stirs away at the pot full of food on the stove, answering with a casual tone, âFinishinâ up some business in townâyou sure you ainât hungry?â
As if he knows, your stomach growls.
You had managed a decent breakfast and light snacking throughout the day, but the rich aroma of spices makes the food hard to ignore.
You approach curiously, noting the emptied but bloodied casing for the meat he was cooking, cutting board with a few stray vegetable ends and Joelâs gaze flickers to you once, then twice.
âYou want a taste?â Joel asks, lifting a spoonful from the pot, his hand hovering under the utensil, spotting your weariness immediately.Â
As a show of trust, or just plain good faith, he takes a sip of the broth before shoving the spoonful into his mouth, a clear indication that it was safe to eat.
Not that you thought he would attempt to taint the food, but it did ease your worries and you were hungry despite your feelings toward him, so you nod.
Joel smirks slightly and dips a wooden spoon into the pot again, bringing the food to your lips and watching as you blow, the steam bellowing up in front of your face and you sip gingerly, invaded with a burst of flavorful notes.
It was an instant indication that maybe you had judged Joel too hard on his cooking skills, impressed by how savory the food was, stronger than youâre used to, but it was still pleasant.Â
Joelâs eyes are stuck on you, gauging your reaction and his lips twitching as your eyes light up, a gentle nod of approval in response. He plucks a piece of meat from the spoon and raises his eyebrows in question.
You find yourself nodding instinctively and Joel drops the spoon into the pot, guiding the chunk of meat to your lips and you open your mouth willingly, feel the soft press of the food against your tongue and the tenderness of it, like butter as your teeth grind into the meat, feeling the swipe of Joelâs finger as he cleans up dripping line of sauce that slides down your chin.
And it tastesâŠfine. You wouldnât dare give Joel the immediate satisfaction that you thought it was good, because it was. It was a perfect, home-cooked meal. Your stomach was craving it, mouth watering even more as you swallowed that first bite.
Joel brings his sauce covered finger to his own lips, pressing the digit inside of his mouth and sucking. He wasnât wasteful, clearlyâsavoring every last drop.
âSo,â Joel grins wider than he ever has, still sated but it was new, welcoming even, âchange your mind?âÂ
You shrug indifferently, but Joel senses your intrigue.
âIâll give it a try.â
Thatâs all Joel needs to hear.
-
Somewhere between your first bite and your last, minimal conversation as you sit and devour the bowl of stew without a single qualm, you fall asleep.
It was a mix of exhaustion and a full belly, slumped against the table and your eyes falling shut despite yourself. Joel cleans quietly, dishes clashing softly as he washes the dirtied ones and wipes them clean, stowing away the leftover stew as peeks over his shoulder.
Youâre still sound asleep, plush lips pulling together in a tight line as you sigh, breathing out through your nose.Â
Joel rubs his hands over the front of his jeans, ignoring the half-hard jut of his cock against the denim, knowing the moment your lips slipped around that spoon he was a goner.Â
Heâs never gone that far, heâs never tried. He and Tommy have always kept to themselves and while Tommy didnât stick to a strict diet of Joelâs preferred meat, he did dabble on occasion.
Joel preferred it, and like his brother, was raised on it.
But, like many of the people that have come and gone, always through the process of ending up as stock for the Miller farm, Joel has never forcibly tried to push their beliefs on anyone.
Unfortunately, Joel had never met someone as intriguing as you. Not nearly as squeamish as the others, even fully grown men shying away from the task of cleaning pig shit out of a penâyou were strong, but stubborn. Joel admired it, but he liked the challenge of breaking it out of you too.
Heâd wake you eventually, but for now he watches. Arms pressed against the central counter, keeping him hidden in the darkness as the soft glow of the overhead lamp above the dining table illuminated you.
Joelâs come to recognize thingsâgood bone structure, volume of meat and muscle, all the things that make certain humans the perfect piece of product.
And you were just that.Â
A pretty penny.
â
Sometime in the middle of your bleary haze youâd made it to bed, whether with assistance or not you find yourself waking with a turn of your stomach and rolling out of bed in hurried attempt, feeling the force of bile as it made its way up your throat, fumbling loudly with the doorknob until you managed to pry it open.
You make it to the bathroom across the hall just in time to spill the contents of that evening's dinner into the toilet, attempting desperately to keep your wits, arms clenched around your stomach as you heaved relentlessly.
The cold hands come a moment later, icing the back of your neck as they push the hair from your face and offer a soft reassurance.
âHey, itâs alright,â Tommyâs voice cooed, his cold palm pressing against your forehead as your head lifted to look at him, tears streaming down your face now, âyou with me?â
You nod weakly, hearing Joelâs heavy footsteps before you spot him, his stocky frame filling out the doorway.
âMusta been dinner,â Joel supplies to his younger brother, âsheâs probably ainât used to the stuff âround here. Less processed, harsher on the stomach when you ainât had it before.â
Tommyâs gaze lowers, focusing on his brother harshly. It was a look of words unspoken, threatening intention and one that had you holding your breath, wondering if youâd done something wrong. His hand slips down your back, rubbing at the base of your spine.Â
In any other circumstance you might find yourself shying away, but you lean into it. He glances over, touching your skin once more. Left cheek, right cheek. You were clammy, mouth suddenly dry and begging for anything to quench the thirst or rid yourself of the sour taste in your mouth.
âGet her some water,â Tommy instructs his brother harshly, âand somethinâ cold, sheâs sweating through her clothes.â
Joel doesnât argue, half-expecting him to put up a fight. He retreats, knowing his wrong-doing but not finding the guilt inside him to care. Youâd assimilate eventually, they all do. Him, Tommy, nearly all the townsfolk have learned to adjust to this lifestyle. Unspoken and secret amongst the outliers, it was the way of life around here.
He returns with a glass of water and cold rag, passing them off to his brother, âDonât run off,â Tommy bites, âwe need to talk.â
Joel grinds his teeth at the order, watching as you close your eyes to the glorious press of the cold, wet rag as Tommy squeezed it against your face, your neck, before bringing the glass of water to your lips. A few seconds and one generous gulp later you find yourself cracking a joke amongst the tension, pulling a soft laugh out of the younger brother.
âIf you wanted an excuse to feel me up, you couldâve just asked.â
âOh, pardon me, sweetheart,â Tommy remarks playfully, âIâll keep that in mind next time.â
Joel sniffles awkwardly, tongue pressing into his cheek as Tommy passes off the items and rises to his feet, nodding toward the hall and motioning for his brother to follow.Â
âYou need somethinâ you shout, alright?âÂ
You nod obediently, flushing the toilet weakly before resting your head in your hands, attempting slow breaths to calm your racing heart, waiting for the second wave of sickness to hit you but hoping it never came.
There's a muffled argument on the other side of the wall, the tell-tale sign of Joel's gruff voice, tone clipped and decisiveâit was the same way he had spoken to you during your first argument.
-
âWhatâs our one fucking rule, Joel?âÂ
Tommyâs voice bites, hushed enough that you wouldnât be able to hear him, nor Joel as they slowly moved toward the front of the house.
âYou're gonna tell me not to do it?â Joel retorts, âI already did. There ainât nothing to argue.â
There was one thing they both knew for sure.
You werenât like the others.
âSheâs gonna find out,â Tommy assures him, âSheâll find out and then youâll be the one thatâs gotta do the dirty work, not me.â
âAfraid of me choppinâ up your girlfriend into tiny little pieces for Robert and Stan down the road?â Joel asks, a vicious and cutthroat way to take a shot as his brother, who he knew better than anyone.
Heâs grown attached too quickly. Joel had suspected, assumed by the immediate likeness to you, but the moment of care shared in the bathroom moments prior had confirmed that if Tommy wanted you, he could have you. The smile you offered in return for his kind efforts was enough for Joel to know.
So, yeahâ feeding unknowing people human meat was the number one rule. But, growing attached was the unspoken one that the Miller brothers had always followed, without fail.
 Until now.
âSheâs smartâcould use that, ya know?â Joel suggests, which is a surprise to Tommy.
His brother, who only ever thought about himselfâhe was suggesting you stay, that you could help.
âWhen are you gonna tell her?â Tommy asks, eyebrows raised in question as his hands settle on his hips, pajama pants hanging low. âTomorrow?â
âI ainât,â Joel responds without hesitation, âLike I saidâsheâs smart, sheâll figure it out.â
âJoel, if you donât tell her I willââ
âNo, you wonât,â Joel bites at his brother, stepping closer in an attempt to intimidate, âyou tell her and sheâll run for the damn hillsâlet her figure it out and sheâll confront you. Then weâll see how good you are at coverinâ our asses.â
It was Tommyâs job, the forefront of their business. He made the sales, talked to distributors in town. He was the faceâa pretty face, more approachable. Joel was always sharper around the edges, harder to read.
Regardless, it didnât matter. Joel had dug the hole for both of them and there was no way out.
â
You wake with an ache in your muscles and the instant need for a shower, covered in a layer of sweat that makes you want to strip your clothes instantly. You remember Tommy helping you to bed the night prior, the faint memories of you hunched over the toilet as you discarded your stomach contents and Joel watching over, observing, but the rest was a blur.
Not trying to waste anymore time, you quickly shower and dress, meeting the two boys in the kitchen as they readied themselves for the day, picking over breakfast. You settle for a couple of slices of bread, toasting them to a near crisp and snagging a ripe fruit from the basket on the counter, watching curiously as Joel makes a cup of coffee. It was the most normal course of action youâve seen him takeâhe even took it with sugar, but obviously no cream.
Tommy already tore through breakfast and was sipping on his own cup of coffee, looking up at you occasionally over the newspaper he was reading, knowing that you were attempting to eat light after the night prior.
âFeelinâ better?â Tommy asks.
Your nod is noncommittal but Tommy doesnât press.
Without prompting, Joel speaks, âIt takes some gettinâ used to,â He explains, âit ainât like the shit you get in the city.â
It would explain why he was unaffected, that maybe your stomach was just too weak.
âSame business today,â Tommy cuts in, ignoring the long stare you and Joel were holding, chewing slowly at the now soggy toast in your mouth, âwe might have some stuff cominâ in tonight though and weâll all have to offer a hand in unloading it, can you handle yourself?â
You approach him casually, stripping the peel off your banana as you take a bite.
âI can handle myself just fine,â you assure him, eyes pulling up briefly to regard Joel who was already departing for the front door without a word, ââyou sure he isnât trying to poison me?â
Tommy snorts softly, watching as you chewed thoughtfully on the banana and your gaze followed Joel through the windows, tracking his movements until he hit the barn. You feel Tommyâs hand graze your bicep, pulling your attention back toward him.
âHeâs not,â If it was a lie, you couldnât tell, âit all takes some adjusting, he isnât lying.â
His hand still hadnât moved and you looked down, his thumb rubbing over the exposed skin of your arm, âYou know, I did say all you had to do was ask.â Tommyâs eyes crinkle with laughter, not expecting you to remember your words from last night, âOr, thatâs inappropriate becauseâŠyouâre technically my bossââ
âThere isnât rules out here, honey,â His voice is warm, invitingâbut heâs still trying to keep himself at a distance, not too fast or too hard all at once. Heâd set out the bait and wait for you to bite it, âweâre just here to help out and mind our business.â
âOkay,â Your response is soft, a gentle lilt to your voice that makes Tommy smile, âand...thank you for last night. I know it isnât the most pleasant thing to wake up to in the middle of the night.â
His hand drops slowly, fingers trailing until they find your wrist and offering a gentle squeeze before his fingers depart you entirely, âI lived on this farm my entire life. There isnât much that I havenât seen or dealt with before. I think I can handle a little throw up.â
Tommy offers up the remainder of his coffee, still warm as you bring it to your lips and savor the rich tasteâit was much more your style, full of cream and sugar to the point where it might rot your teeth out.
And the day proceeds without problem, moving through the motions of the tasks Tommy had assigned you yesterday, along with feeding some of the other animals littered around the farm. Horses, cows, goatsâit was a wonder how they kept up with it by themselves. They were capable, but it seemed like too much for just two people. Regardless, it was impressive.
By evening, Tommy was pulling in with a truck full of secured and banded boxes on the trailer and Joel resurfaces from the barn by then, reeking something awful. You turn your nose away and scatter to Tommyâs side, earning a chuckle from the younger brother.
âYou get used to it,â Tommy tells you, âlike everything else.â
You eye Joel wearily, who seems less than amused. He offers a low grunt of acknowledgement as he stacks the boxes two high and heaves them up and into his arms, ignoring any attempt at small talk with either of you.
You couldnât be bothered to care, knowing that Joelâs behavior was nothing if not peculiar.
âWhatâs in the boxes?â You ask when both of the men are reaching for boxes, sliding a smaller one into your own grip. They share a look, uncertainty. Who speaks first? Lie? Truth?
Joel huffs quietlyâfine, half-truth.
âItâs stuff for cleaninâ up the barn. All the mess and shit. Interesting enough for you?â
Your nose crinkles at his tone, turning on your heels and heading toward the barn with the men in tow, âYouâre snippy today,â you remark at Joel and Tommy hollers out a laugh from behind you, full-bellied and genuine, âwhen are you gonna give me a tour of it?â
âThe what? The barn?â Joel asks for clarification before immediately shutting you down, âNever.â
Tommy shakes his head as he places the box down amongst the others, watching as you two bicker with shared looks and a soft giggle coming from you when you realize just how frustrated Joel had become, âIâm gonna head insideâtry not to kill each other, alright?â
When Tommy is finally inside, you place the final box down. Joel was rearranging them silently, occupied with the task as you step backwards slowly, turning your head over your shoulder as you reach for the barn door.Â
The curiosity was likely to kill youâjust a peek, that was it.
The creak pulls Joelâs attention up and heâs on you within seconds, door slamming by your head as his hand pressing against the flat of your chest, fingers itching to squeeze around your throat. You gasp, a guttural noise forced out of you as he pressed you into the hard surface of wood, feeling the splinters dig into your skin.
âWhat did I fuckinâ say?â He asks. No response. It sets his eyes ablaze, âAnswer me, goddammit.â
âMindââ You gasp again, sharp as his hand presses into your throat now, forcing you to answer, âmind my business.â
âDoesnât seem like youâre doing much of that right now,â Joel points out, âseems like youâre enjoying pressing that nose into places it doesnât belong.â
It was a barn, for christ sake. What the hell was he hiding?
âHey,â you croak, weakly, âdonât kill me, remember? Your brother wonât be too happy about it.â
âThatâs only because he wants to fuck you, girl.â He assures you, âYou ainât the first and you wonât be the last.â
Your gaze softens, fingers clawing at his forearm. The disappointment in your eyes was obvious, but a sting to Joelâs ego. Tommy was always the more favored one of the pair, there wasnât much he could do about it. But, it didnât soften the blow.
His hold lessens slightly.
âDid you think you were the only little lady thatâs come through here that my brother hasnât tried to sink his teeth into?â Joel grins in amusement, tapping his fingers gently against the side of your cheek. It was patronizing and foolish, but he couldnât resist teasing you for the dejected look on your face. âI like my privacy, alright? Donât appreciate it when people invade it.â
You nod quietly, lips opening to offer a weak apology.
âDonât say sorry,â he tells you, ânot when you donât mean it.â
Instantly, your mouth snaps shut. Joel smirks, satisfied that he was right about that.
You werenât sorry. You didnât care. But, you were scared. Eyes still wide as saucers and boring into his own, all blacked out with rage but quickly fading back into their usual warm brown.
âYou hungry?â He quickly adverts the topic, pulling at the fabric of your shirt to adjust it back into place like nothing happened, âIâm fixinâ to cook up dinner.â
Two could play at that game.
âIs it gonna make me sick again?âÂ
Joel shrugs, âMight. Might not. You willinâ to take that risk?â
â
You luck out, for the most part. Aside from the dinner being nothing short of delicious, it makes you slightly queasy but it was easily qualmed by a glass of champagne, a nightcap to the work day as Joel has already wandered off to bed after cleaning up, leaving you and Tommy to perch on the stairs out front, a cigarette stuffed between his middle and pointer finger as he flicks off the ash, sipping from his own can of beer.Â
âI forgot to ask about pay, you know,â You laugh softly, âjustâŠslipped my mind.â
âWeekly,â Tommy answers simply, âevery Friday. So, tomorrow?â
You do the mental work in your head, feeling like the days have blurred together. Realistically, it had only been a few but you hadnât expected how overwhelming those days would be, finally feeling the exhaustion settling in your bones as you rested beside Tommy on the front steps of the Miller home.
âYou feelinâ okay?â Tommy asks curiously, beer tipped to his lips as he takes a sip and awaits your response.
âA little queasy?â Youâre unsure what to consider it, that unsettling feeling in your gut. You werenât even sure if it was the food making you feel that way, almost certain that even a single look from Joel would give you the same feeling.
âYouâre thinkinâ about it too much,â Tommy points out, âitâll make it worse.â
You gulp down the rest of the cheap champagne and press the flat stand of glass into the stair besides your bare feet before leaning back on your elbows. Tommy mirrored you, crunching the aluminum can in his hand and tossed it aside.
âOkay, soâdistract me,â you responded pointedly, a kind smile sent his way.
Tommy takes a deep puff before youâre plucking the nearly finished cigarette from his fingers and bringing it to your own lips, feeling the nicotine burn your throat. Tommy doesnât seem fazed at all, used to it.Â
Maybe Joel wasnât lying about all those women.Â
This was a normal routine for Tommy. You were another passerby willing to take the bait.
âYou wanna go for a swim?â
Your brow raises curiously, amused.
Tommy looks on, awaiting your response.Â
âOh, youâre serious?â You ask, stuttering at the unexpected proposition, âUh, yeahâsure. I meanâŠwhere?â
âItâs a walk, but thereâs a lake behind those trees,â Tommy points off to the west, a long and dense line of trees surrounding the edge of the Miller farm, âfeelinâ up to it?â
Your mouth waters unpleasantly as you continue to sit with your thoughts, yearning for distraction. You nod.
Tommy grins wide and takes your hand into his own.
-
He wasnât lying. Under the moonlight, it was a huge lake with eerily undisturbed water. Pitch black and despite the hot and sticky heat, the water was cool to the touch as you dipped your feet into the shallow edge. Tommy is already wrestling with his belt, shucking his jeans down hastily and it forces you to move, stripping your own clothes off in time with him.
Down to your underwear you edge toward the deeper waters, hissing as more of your skin becomes engulfed in the ice cold plunge, feeling Tommy hover around you as he dipped under the water for a moment of time before emerging in front of you, pushing his damp hair from his face.
The cold water has you frozen, paralyzed.
âCome on,â he jests, âdunk yourself, itâll help.â
You shake your head hesitantly, managing the inch by inch efforts as you move forward slowly.
âIâll do it with you.â Tommy suggests, his fingers wrapping around your wrists as he wades the waterâyou feel yourself rising on your tiptoes to give yourself a few lingering moments before you have to force yourself under.
Tommy doesnât force you, only waits for your reassuring nod after a long moment of indecisiveness before heâs doing a slow countdown and youâre both slipping under the water.
Moments later, you emerge with a gasp but it is full of elation. Tommy had pulled you out deeper, forcing you to swim until neither of you could touch and you clung to him instinctively, feeling the words that fall from his lips brush the back of your neck, âDistracted enough?â
It had, truthfully. You nod in response, feeling deft fingers at your hips as they turn you, your legs kicking in a melodic synchronicity. His touch lingers for a moment before heâs pushing away, using his arms to gain momentum and swim away, looking over his shoulder with a silent challenge.
Chase him.Â
You giggle to yourself before following, moving gracefully through the calm waters. It continues like that for a while, minutes passing away effortlessly. The monotone buzz of insects hovering over the lake water and the insistent chirp of the crickets hiding in the grass kept your mind busy. It was peaceful out here, like the rest of the farm.
âSo, you grew up here?âÂ
âAll my life,â Tommy answers easily, âit isnât exactly tourist worthy sights out here, but it has perks. Where are you from?â
âHere, thereââ you answer noncommittally and shrug, earning a dismissive laugh from Tommy, âeverywhere, honestly. I donât stick around places for very long.â
âWhich reminds me,â Tommy interjects, âyour car should be fixed up soonâbut, if you wanted to stick aroundââ
âI donât think Joel would appreciate that,â you respond, feeling the heat of his gaze on you despite the farmhouse being miles away, âbesidesâIâm just another mouth to feed.â
âMost people who pass through here donât last more than a day,â Tommy admits, âit may not seem like it, but heâs warminâ up to you.â
You reminisce on the heat of his palm against your throat.
If looks could killâŠ.
Joel would have maimed you at that moment.
âHeâs a dick, but he ainât immune to pretty girls,â Tommy teases and it makes your gut twist, âwe donât get many women through here anywaysâI think heâs just forgotten how to talk to âem.â
You think back on Joelâs words again and decide to poke the bear.Â
Swimming toward the shore you turn your head over your shoulder and speak, âYou know, he said this is a bit of a routine of yours,â you begin, âseducing helpless women who come asking for help.â
Tommy rolls his eyes lightheartedly, chuckling at the absurdity of your words.
âJoel told you that?â Tommy inquires, swimming toward you. You turn on your hands, slowly scooting your way upshore with your palms until your ass is pressed against a bed of rocks buried in the dirty, shallow water lapping at your shins. âHoney, itâs been nearly a year since any type of lady came across our farmâand the last one? It was some old lady needinâ a jump on her car.âÂ
Tommy is edging closer now, on his hands and knees as he works his way forward.
âPeople see the farm and they drive in the other direction,â Tommy admits, âbut, not you.â
You lean back slightly as he hovers over you. Your heart pounds in your chest, a salacious grin spreading across his face.Â
âHelpless, remember?â
Tommy shakes his head slowly, âAinât nothinâ helpless about you.â
You bite first, silencing him with a heated press of your lips against his own, your hand curling around the back of his neck and your blunt fingernails pinching at his skin. His hiss turns into a warm chuckle. He spreads his palm out over the inside of your thigh and beckons your legs apart until he can fit between them comfortably before it curls around the side and pulls you back in, your knees barricading his hips.Â
He coaxes you back, taking the balled up shirt on the shore and sandwiching it between the dirt and your head as he pulls back with a low sigh, eyes half-lidded and switching between your lips and your steady gaze, catching the way your tongue licks at your bottom lip.
âNeed a little more distraction?â Tommy asks softly, the fingers on his free hand toying with the waistband of your panties, awaiting the nod of confirmation. It comes without thinking and heâs peeling the fabric off gently, watching as it stuck and rolled against your skin, sopping wet from the lake water as they fall to the ground with a soft squelch.
His fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing forward in a way that beckons your chin up, meeting his lips in another hot and messy exchange of tongue and sweet, soft sighs breathed into each otherâs mouths, feeling the tingly pulse at your core as his fingers drag through the center of your pussy. There was no mistaking the slick that had gathered there amongst your heated exchange, a low hum rumbling in his throat as he leaves you, sinking further and further down your body, eyes locked on your own.
âOpen up for me,â he commands gently, his hands curling around your thighs as he settles on his stomach, âfuckâthat, just like that. Goddamn girl, sheâs glisteninâ for me.â
He chuckles at your meek response, looking away with a subtle smile that made you want to crawl away from him, but he held you firm.
âNothinâ to be shy about,â he reassures you.
You exhale slowly, a calming breath that quickly melts away as he licks a broad line up your cunt with his tongue, through your folds and slurping up with sweet, sticky slick. You gasp, hands curling into fist helplessly, moaning out into the silent night. There was the softest wisp of a breeze that blew over your skin, prickling your skin. But, itâs beat out by the heat of Tommyâs touch as he pulls your hand to his scalp, silenting guiding you toward his long locks and hoping you get the idea. You curl your fingers into his hair and tug, pulling his motions up toward your clit and he sucks, sucks so hard you think you start to see white before he smooths the intensity out with the gentler licks of his tongue.Â
It doesnât take long before youâre coming with a loud moan, nearly uprooting yourself from the ground as he holds you still, the insistent wiggling of your hips from the overstimulation of his tongue enough to make you beg, plead even.
âTommy, pleaseâstop, sâtoo much. Too much.â You breath out in a hurry and eventually, a few greedy seconds later, he relents.
He rises with a sated smile sometimes later, watching as you desperately try to catch your breath. Whatever uneasiness you were feeling in your stomach earlier was long, but it didnât snuff out the mental feeling of it. Fear, worryâlike you were being watched.
-
The weeks beyond that pass with ease, falling into a steady routine.
Your car still sat untouched, but you couldnât find it in you to be a pest about itâthings were going well, a steady paycheck and roof over your head. You could bother them about it eventually, but not now. Not while things were good.
By October, the air is cooler and the work is easier to handle. Sometimes you help Tommy on the administrative end, filing away paperwork with information that doesnât make much sense to you, as much as you try to piece it together. But, you do know theyâre bringing in money. And lots of it. Absurd amount, actually. You donât press Tommy on it either, worried that it would pop the pristine bubble around you both.
He was smitten, kindâsometimes he would sneak into your room at night instead of the latter for you, tiptoeing around Joel in the chances he might have something, anything to say. Heâd lied to you about Tommy for his own benefitâbut why? You tried not to dwell on it.
But, eventually you find yourself around Joel more often than not. Or, attending to him.Â
He still barricades himself in the barn most days, only popping his head out as he calls for thingsâbut thereâs one particular evening where things, usually calm, fly off the rails.Â
Mentally, at least.
And it isnât the most auspicious way to let you in on their secret, but Joel canât seem to rid himself of you. Youâre always there, lingering, and even if you werenât certain of things, suspicion had been raised long ago.
You werenât even sure what you were trying to confirm, or if Joelâs unsettling nature was just a ploy to scare you into behaving, but you could feel it. Something was up.
Heâs tasked you with feeding the pigs a number of timesâitâs always gross and messy and not a favorable task by any means, fortunately youâre used to it. But, a large, stray rock buried in the dirt robs you of normality and the bin of bloodied scraps spills out as you land on your hands and knees, the skin scraping off your shins against the rough ground and a loud hiss slips beyond clenched teeth as you scramble to get back on your feet, looking around in desperation and hoping that neither of the brothers had witnessed your misstep.
Your nose scrunches up in disgust as you hold back a gag, scooping the discarded scraps back into the bin, the meat like mush beneath your fingertips and you reach for a bigger chunk, immediately startled by the more solid texture of it.Â
Joel usually grinded up the meat, making it easier for the pigs to consume. But this, it was a whole and solid chunk. You push the bin away gently and swipe away the chunks of congealed blood and fat and rub your thumb over the texture of it. Thick, solid. The color was dull and pale but there was no mistaking it. It was skin, but more notably amongst that was the tattoo. It clearly wasnât the full piece, a couple letters surrounded by an intricate design where it was precisely sliced.
Youâve heard of people using pig skin for tattooing, wondering if Joel was taking up a side hobby amongst the already interesting career path he had taken, but something doesnât sit well.Â
Five pigs, that was how many youâd seen since you arrived. You push the bin weakly toward the pin on your hands and knees until you can find the strength to dump it into the trough, allowing the metal to clatter to the ground carelessly as the pigs flood to their food. One, two, threeâŠand two stragglers trotting over leisurely. Five pigs, not a single one missing.
The creak from the barn has you peering quickly over your shoulder, eyes landing on Joel as he leaned around the door, a perturbed look on his face. You thought it was worry for a split second and as he came closerâcurious and cautious over the loud noises he had heard when his saw cut deadâit was.Â
He spots the blood on the ground first, a mess you had made. His eyes follow the trail of blood to the pin before they travel over you, covered in the rest of what didnât make it inside the trough and then your legsâyou donât feel the sting until he kneels, his fingers running over your knees, tiny bits of dirt and gravel buried in the wound as his fingers continue down your shin. His eyes scan the expanse of the property before theyâre locked back on you.
âGet inside,â It was a cold demand, detached and emotionless but you canât move, frozen with a fear that didnât hit you until Joelâs fingers touched your skin, âgo onâyou can walk, canât you?â
Vehemently, you swallow down the lump in your throat. Human skin, not pig skin. You werenât feeding the pigs scraps of other animalsâit was humans. Weeks of clueless wandering, the itching feeling of uneasiness was confirmed for you in seconds. The bile in your stomach was threatening to escape as you walked on wobbly legs to the house, falling down into a chair tucked under the dining table, flexing shaky fingers into fists over and over, slowly in an effort to calm yourself alongside your practiced breaths.
Tommy wasnât here. He wouldâve come running otherwiseâyou vaguely remember the truck missing as you made your way inside, wondering how distracted you had to be to not realize he left. You hear Joel clearing his throat as he approaches the door, swinging it open harshly as it nearly pops off its hinges.
You make the effort to move, but Joel is quick to snap at you.
âStay put,â He commands, eyes washing over your stoic expression.
You mustâve been a sight, wide-eyed and disturbed, following Joelâs every move. You were covered in a mix of your own blood and someone elseâsâmaybe not even one, it could be multiple. Joel seems to sense your stomach turning and lunges toward the trash bin in the kitchen and quickly shoves it in front of you, barely catching the vomit that spills from your throat as you retch your breakfast up forcefully.
Joel moves quietly amongst your sickened state, grabbing a few supplies that he slides onto the table beside you and waits, kneeled down at near eye level as you peer up, wiping the string of spit from your mouth and he looks enthralled, wondering what had caused such a chaotic string of events to unfold.
âYouâre upset,â He notes, ripping open a package of cotton balls and pouring a handful onto the table, popping open the cap of isopropyl alcohol, dosing the cotton before he was pressing it into your leg without warning, earning a sharp whine of pain from you.
Was he expecting a different reaction?
âFuck!â You shout, shoving the trash can aside as your fingers dig tightly into Joelâs shoulder, earning a fiery look from the manâbut if he wasnât willing to give you sympathy, you werenât going to return the favor, ââyou are too, are we pointing out the obvious?â
His fingers drag along the back of your calf, position your heel against his hips as allows no relief, haphazardly pouring a small amount of alcohol against the wound and you grip the wood of the chair so hard you swear you hear it crack.
âJesus, ease up,â you snap at him, âI fell, I fucked up. Iâm sorry, is that what you wanted to hear?â
âWhatâre you apologizinâ for?â
Thereâs a distinct rip of tape as you watch Joel smooth the gauze over your shin, securing the bandage over the wound before he works carefully at your knee, cleaning the cut before leaving it alone and moving to the opposite leg.
âAre you not mad at me?â
Joel chuckles dismissively, eyes flicking up toward you briefly, âNot everything is about you, girl.â
Fed up and simmering with your pain, you donât think and the words slip from your lips before you can stop them, âIs it about Tommy then?â
Joelâs hands still, stopping the slow dragging lotion down your wound as he tilts his head up at you curiously, âYou think Iâm jealous of that little thing you got going on with my brother?â Joel shakes his head in amusement, his teeth peeking out beyond his grin, âI donât get jealous. If I want somethinâ, Iâll take it.â
The words pierce your chest, knowing there was deeper meaning beyond those words but you look away carelessly, feeling his less than gentle press into your skin as he continues.Â
âBusiness is slow, I donât like it.â Joel admits, hearing the hesitancy in his voice as he admits it, but it seems harmless. In his mind, you have no clue of the nefarious nature behind their work.
Except, you do. Or at least you think you do.Â
âIs there any way to fix that?â
Joel shrugs, âTommyâs workinâ the people around town, doing all the talking. Weâll see if it works.â
You have two choices.
Admit what you found or bide your time, poke around and see what you can findâyou know that wonât go over well with Joel, or Tommy, even. So, you call his bluff.
Because somethingâbe it Joel or that sinking feeling in your chest, tells you that whichever path you take would lead down the same road. You werenât leaving here without a fight.
âDoes the body reject it the first few times?â
You ignore the way your voice shakes, the recognition sitting with you, knowing that they had fed you the meat without your consent. Tommy, too. Heâd sat there at the dinner table and tore into the meals all the same, less intrigued as his counterpart, but he was still an accomplice.Â
Joelâs expression changes, like switch flips. Bandaging up the opposite leg he rises, answering with a clipped, âYeah.â
Silence amongst the clattering of items as Joel piled them into his arms and stored them away, another question slips past your lips.
âWas it on purpose?â
Joelâs brow raises, but he doesnât answer.Â
âThe tattoo,â You explain, âdid you want me to find it? Or did you fuck up?â
At those words, he lunges. His hands grip the table behind you, pinning you against the chair as you lean back and look up, feeling the deep rumble in his chest.
âI donât fuck up,â Joel retorts and your eyes stray from his hardened gaze, âNoâlook at me. Now.â
Your teeth dig into your bottom lip harshly, but you listen.
âYou knew,â Joel challenges, âlong before that, Iâm sure. You couldâve ran if you wanted, granted youâve got that busted car out front, but you couldâve ran. Hell, you could have while you were outside just nowâbut you listened to me.â
You know what angle heâs pushing, backing you into a corner and you feel it, that tingling feeling of guilt in your gut. He was right, you could have.
âWhat are you hidinâ in there?â He presses, eyes narrowing as his pointer finger taps gently at the center of your forehead, âIâm telling you weâre murderers, cannibals, and you havenât screamed or shed a tear. You arenât scared of me, are you?â
You shake your head and Joel speaks again, âScared of dying though, right? Whatâs stoppinâ me from killing you? Tommy ainât here.â
The finger on your forehead follows down the center of your face until Joel can reach your chin, tilting it upwards.
âYou like it here, donât you?â
There was no nod, but the subtle twitch in your cheek as you bite down hard on the inside of it was enough of an answer for Joel. Donât give him those words, donât give him the satisfaction.
âYou killed before?â
Another question that goes unanswered, but your actions give you away.
You twist away, desperate to flee his touch. Joel isnât done with you yet, one hand pressed against his knee as he leans down to your level and the other grabbing for your face, forcing you to look at him.
Admittedly, they werenât all bad men. Some of them had tried to attack you on the road and ended up at the wrong end of a blade, but othersâthe few with bad timing and things you neededâŠit was collateral, in your eyes. Seven of them that you can remember, all unsuspecting men with an eye for the meek and defenseless.Â
You snarl slightly, fighting against his hold but Joel is stronger, much stronger.Â
âKnew youâd be useful,â Joel admits, âsâwhy I let you stick around. You got thatâŠlook about you.â
Your brow furrows in a mix of disgust and confusion and you catch the way Joel spaces out for a moment, admiring your expression and you twist, shoving him hard with both hands in an attempt to send him stumbling back. It only forces him off-balance and your attempt to flee is stopped by his large, bear-like grip on your forearm as he throws you against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs.
âNuh uh,â Joel mocks, âcanât letcha go that easy, sugar.â
Joel's grip on your wrist is deadlocked, crossing your arms over your chest tight, pressing himself against you. Under this light, this closeness, you notice the small scars, years of healing left it fading into the skin and Joel notices you admiring for a brief momentâincredibly brief as your teeth clamp down around the side of his hand. Hard. It breaks through the skin and forces blood to spill from his hand and pool into your mouth before he pulls the wounded hand back and balls it into a fist, freezing as you spit his blood back into his face, an instant chuckle ripping from his throat.
âThere you are, ya little killer,â He goaded, his eyes ticking up at the sound of a car door slamming outside and a wide grin spreading across his face, âwell, isnât that some fine timing.â
The door swings open a second later and Joel has already pushed away from you, nursing his flesh wound with a dry, clean kitchen towel, leaving Tommy to examine you both with a less than auspicious gaze, blood ringing your mouth and a smug expression on his brother's face.
You approach Tommy hesitantly, reaching for the door with a worried gaze but his hand comes up too, slamming against the flimsy frame and preventing you from roaming further.
âCanât let you out, honey,â he apologizes, his voice more sincere than youâve ever heard it to be before his head turns up toward his brother, waving around a white envelope addressed out to the both of them, âwe gotta figure somethinâ out.â
He tosses the letter on the dining table and slides his hand down your forearm, a softer grip than his counterpart but it didnât leave room for argument, jostling you around until he could get the front door locked, dead-bolted, and secured.
âThis is home now, baby.â Tommy soothes.
Because really, where else did you have to go?
#joel miller x reader#tommy miller x reader#joel x reader x tommy#joel miller smut#tommy miller smut#joel miller x you#tommy miller x you#joel miller x y/n#tommy miller x y/n#the last of us fic#the last of us#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#cannibalism tw#my writing#wouldn't be me without a fucked up concept
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*person has consented to being eaten; theyâve donated their body. they died without suffering. you can cook the meat. you will not get sick from the meat.
bonus: explain why!
#reblog for sample size etc etc#personally i would absolutely try human meat if given the chance#poll#polls#cannibalism#cottons thoughts#pinned#<- insane first post to read if youve only just discovered my blog but i want results!!! i want numbers and sample!!#cannibalism tw
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my headcanons for shops in the hilltop centre:
touristy gift shop but there's a figure in all the postcards, getting closer and closer to the camera in each one
evil evil food court that serves you People Meat
indoor crazy golf place that's infinite and colourful and loud. if you put your hand in one of the holes to get your ball back, it bites you
a regular claire's
#feel free to add your own!#shitposting#the magnus protocol#the magnus protocol spoilers#cannibalism tw#horror tw#violence tw#the hilltop centre#tmagp#tmagp spoilers#tmagp 30#magnus protocol spoilers
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god forbid women have hobbies like braiding their dead best friends hair to cover up that sheâs missing an ear or putting makeup on her corpse to make her look less necrotic or hallucinating a bacchanal feast while cannibalizing her
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Had this dream where I was in a cult and volunteered to be eaten alive. It was very peaceful and everyone was polite, sometimes telling me stuff like "I'm taking a bit of your thigh, it'll be great with some lettuce" and I'd be like "Oh ok cool"
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Meat.
Lots. And lots. Of meat.
It wasn't even mystery meat, it was so obviously just human flesh, strewn about all over the world.
No known source. No purpose. It didn't rot or anything, but it wasn't alive, it was just there.
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Canât stop thinking about Alastor letting Rosie eat him cuz he trusts her
Fuck sex! Let Rosie gently cannibalise Alastor, pussies!
Edit: Continuation!
#when I stop having writersblock Iâm gonna write this#platonic radiorose#queerplatonic radiorose#queer platonic radiorose#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel rosie#hazbin alastor#hazbin rosie#alastor hazbin hotel#rosie hazbin hotel#aroace alastor#tw canibalism#cannibalism cw#cw cannibalism#cannibalism tw#tw cannibalism#cannibal tw#canibalism#cannibalcore
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Obsessed with his brain
#read a fic where he had to eat someone in the basement to survive and I am... obsessed#fop#fairly oddparents#fop a new wish#fairly oddparents a new wish#dale dimmadome#fop dale#idk ask to tag#art#digital art#fanart#blood tw#cannibalism tw#ed tw#In my mind his relationship with Dev is crazy. Because he wants to love Dev so badly but he is just. incapable of it.#and it makes him hate himself#On some level he thought seeing Dev would fix him. That he would feel all those things a dad is instinctively supposed to#and it would prove he wasn't broken. That deep down hes still human. that he's still capable of love just like everyone else#.And then he didnt. and he had no idea how to deal with it#In a way hes kind of scared of Dev. Dev makes him feel so uncomfortable with himself. so he just kind of avoids him.#Which um. thats your son sir you cant do that.#I love dale but he should absolutely not be a father. He is just not built for it
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Oh, your heart Aortic work of art My love, my knife To carve it out, your life
#duff art#tsukasa tenma#prsk#prsk fa#project sekai#blood tw#knife tw#eyestrain tw#cannibalism tw#<- for the song. not entirely my intent for the drawing.
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YELLOWJACKETS WEEK DAY 4 â favourite quote/scene
#yellowjackets#yellowjacketsedit#yjweek2023#taissa turner#van palmer#jackie taylor#shauna shipman#natalie scatorccio#lottie matthews#misty quigley#tvedit#cannibalism tw#flickering tw#**#wow my hand aches after this
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"They've been laid off from their busywork and can sense that the coming freeze will bring their deathsâ" Plain Bad Heroines, Emily M. Danforth
YELLOWJACKETS OCTOBER â quote from other horror media
#yjoctober2023#yellowjackets#yellowjacketsedit#horroredit#userbru#userrachel#userjacko#userbecca#tusercj#tusermich#tuserrobin#userlindsay#blood tw#cannibalism tw#*
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Iâm just saying for the (white)cannibal website, yâall get very racist real quick when you hear rumors of Black people eating cats
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thinking abt the contrast between jimmy's violence and swansea mercy-killing daisuke.
everything jimmy does feels gratuitous. for the smallest example, he escalates curly's (seemingly calmly stated) bad news into hostility and accusations - and it only gets more severe when we start seeing things from his perspective. it's all laid out right there in front of us, whether we like it or not; we watch him, help him, carve into curly's leg and feed it to him, and dehumanise anya, and shoot swansea point-blank. even when he's forcing medicine down curly's throat and the game mercifully fades to black, we still aren't spared the sound of him gagging and sobbing and choking on it - and every time curly is on screen, he's an unavoidable, stark reminder of jimmy's violence. it's everywhere you turn.
swansea putting daisuke out of his misery is, in comparison, heartwrenchingly tactful. he tells him to close his eyes (something that curly can't do, doesn't have the choice to do anymore - even as the credits roll he's still left staring helplessly, no fade to black), and as he does so, the camera pans and retreats until his entire head is obscured. not only do we not see the impact, but we don't hear it either, since the audio cuts out. for the actual moment of daisuke's death, we as the audience don't actually see any of the blood and gore of it all, just the sombre lead-up - and it's only when we switch back to jimmy's perspective that we see it. and it's only through jimmy's hallucinations(?) and actions through the rest of the game that we keep seeing it.
#this game is drilling its way into my brain and i am abnormal <3#og#horror tag#mouthwashing#mouthwashing game#mouthwashing spoilers#mouthwashing jimmy#mouthwashing curly#captain curly#mouthwashing swansea#mouthwashing daisuke#mouthwashing anya#gore tw#cannibalism tw#autocannibalism tw#abuse tw#violence tw#hallucinations tw#spoilers
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True Love Is (Rare)
#bl00d k!nk#bl00d play#vampcore#vampirism#vampire bite#vampire#vampire aesthetic#tw meat#meat#cannibal aesthetic#cannibalism tw#cannibalism#cannibalposting#cannibal tw#hannibal#cannibalistic#hannibal cannibal#guro
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heres all the commissions i did in june!!
if you want a beautiful baby png of your very own heres instructions on how to attain one
#what i lack in stylistic consistency i make up for in RIM LIGHTING GIVE IT UP FOR RIM LIGHTING EVERYONE#commission#commissions#my art#gore tw#cannibalism tw
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apocalypse au sukuna is a cannibal in my minds eye just like canon sukuna. he goes hunting for you both in the early mornings and by the time he comes back the meat he carries with him is indistinguishable from any other sort of meat youâve seen. you donât ask him what it is bc you know heâd tell you the truth and you canât stomach it. youâre more than happy to live in your delusional little world and sukunas happy to keep you well fed. all is good and well
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