#but i need to just come and talk to the void for a bit

[potatodemon-beesensible]

Oml da boi :(

One does not simply inflict cwassonts on Siffrin in such a way. And the banana’s a very nice reference. Cool detail. Very dark when you think into it beyond “Ayo it’s the death banana.”

Originally there was a lotta “Oml poor bebe 🥺” as that’s how I feel about any cute drawing. But I made some jokes I figured were a bit… eh. I can write these like I’m projecting my thoughts into the void when in reality it’s like… tumblr. So I scrapped it and summed it up here. Isat’s a dark game at times and I cope with things by joking. Some things are best said with friends.

Now I wanna look for art on some of the banana death screens… “You’re a living comedy sketch” hits the first time. And after a bit when Siffrin’s dissociative barriers start breaking it just becomes “You split your head open on a rock”. Which is… yeah that got me.

Actually never got people who joked about things to the extent of like… completely disregarding them. I don’t mean in the joke itself… but like what they’re joking about genuinely doesn’t matter to them. With me… when I joke about something darker it’s because I *do* care about it. And in a way I’m paying my respects in referencing it. Even without the vulnerability… even without it being obvious… and even with it making me come off as questionable to some people. I’m like this in public anyway. Not nearly as much online. And if I am like that in public it’s when I’m absolutely drained and cannot physically be bothered with my mind atm. Otherwise I’m not really like that. But when I am it’s to separate myself from the situation and not be vulnerable… and maybe get a reaction too as that gives me energy. Though I don’t go out of my way to do that… just a tendency. You can actually tell if I like being around someone pretty easily just from how much less unpredictable and talkative I can come off as. I’m comfortable around them and I’m cool just being tired. Don’t feel the need to say something out of pocket to get people going and I just vibe. I like being silent around someone I like. It’s pleasant. Treat those I’m neutral with with respect even though I can get a bit of a high getting a laugh or a questioning look from them. Those I’m disgusted by (otherwise known as jerks who like dehumanizing or degrading others) with severe annoyance, doing everything I can to avoid them. And those I’m genuinely comfy with with care and tenderness. Kinda just how I approach things. Also I like talking to myself. And I like talking about myself. Myself is dope.

Don't bully me.

Oh crab

I added something I forgot to draw.

[gravedwe11er]

Echoes through the cosmos

My friend @cosmique-oddity had a brilliant idea about mecha AU Coswave and I had to write my own take on it. Make sure to check out his wondeful writing/art for this concept too! We're posting our works in tandem, so by the time you see this, it should be on his blog.

Aaanyway, this was supposed to be a short one-shot. It is not. Part two and three will be coming soon. As always, based on the Mecha AU by @keferon.

When he was a kid, the first book he’d ever gotten was a children’s space encyclopedia.

Secrets of the cosmos, it was titled, and he’d fallen in love with it at first glance. It talked about planets and stars and the possibilities of alien life, and he’d carried it around everywhere for years, so much so that it earned him the nickname Cosmos from his peers. It might have been a little mocking at the time, but he’d refused to take it as an insult - quite the opposite, really, and eventually, it stuck.

On clear nights, he’d sometimes sneak out of his house after bedtime, lie down on the grass and just look at the sky. He’d watch the stars flicker, thinking of distant planets filled with cool alien people. Imagined himself meeting them one day, leaving Earth behind for greater adventures and new friends, and whenever he saw a shooting star, only one wish ever came to mind – “I want to meet an alien someday!”

In retrospect, perhaps he should have wished for something else. Chocolate cake for breakfast, maybe.

Because the aliens came. And unlike in the movies, they came with little fanfare; no dramatic declarations of war, no menacing signals sent over the airwaves or bright lights in the sky. They just dropped down from atmo and started ripping humanity to pieces.

Cosmos, who at that point had been in his last year of college and working an internship at decently large observatory, got pretty much front row seats to the first planetfall. The quintessons hadn’t bothered to hide. Hadn’t needed to, really – they’d had too much of an upper hand to worry much about human defense forces.

Life after that was a bit of a blur. The shatterdomes sprung up in a matter of months, humanity started fighting back and actually winning sometimes. Cosmos graduated and got hired immediately as one of the many, many people monitoring satellite data, watching for any incoming quint dropships.

And while yes, even a few minutes of warning ahead of an incoming enemy drop could save thousands of lives, it was never quite enough. New mecha were being made constantly, but such things take time, and the losses kept mounting. Clearly, something else needed to be done.

Which is how Cosmos finds himself here, orbiting some twenty thousand kilometers away from Earth in a haphazard little shoebox of an observation station, all alone in the void between worlds.

Well, to be fair, the actual scientific equipment of the station is top of the line. It’s just the everything else that his bosses on Earth skimped out on. The interior is cramped, dull and grey, with only the bare necessities needed for his long-term functioning as a glorified space cameraman. His days are fairly monotone too – exercise routines to keep up his muscle and bone density twice a day, interspersed with long hours of going over telescope footage, checking for enemy signals and keeping an eye out for any potential anomalies.

Now, despite his occasional grumblings about the quality of life here, he’s not really bothered by most of it. Besides, he gets it – there’s only so many resources the world can spare. He’s fulfilling his dream and helping save lives in the process, so he can put up with a little discomfort. It’s still better than his old college dorm, that’s for sure.

He is in space. Actually in space. That little detail sort of makes up for a majority of the gripes he has about the station.

All except one.

When he signed up for this mission, he knew he’d be alone up here. He just didn’t know how much it would ache.

For the record, it’s not like he’s completely cut off from others- that’d be a one-way ticket to madness, and even the most heartless of higher-ups know it. They’d given him a fast internet connection and permission to make as many video calls as he needs, as long as it doesn’t affect his work. He has his parents back on Earth, and his fellow watchmen are usually up for a quick chat, but- It’s not the same. It’s not nearly enough.

Nothing can replace seeing another living being with his own eyes, a casual pat on the shoulder or just the simple warmth of a person existing in your general vicinity. The longer he stays here, the more chill seeps into his bones, into his very soul.

Soma days, it’s as if there’s a layer of frost underneath his skin, and he’s not sure how long he can take it before he shatters.

Cosmos is sipping on his breakfast coffee when the main console pings, the custom alert he’s set for this specific anomaly making him scramble for the railings immediately. Floating over, he goes to check the data, and- yeah, there it is again.

These signals have been a mystery for the past month now. As of yet, the only thing anyone knows about them is that they’re not from the quintessons and are seemingly completely random. Mission control stopped caring about them once they figured out they’re not of enemy origin, but he and a few of his fellow watchmen have been trying their best to learn more. Command hasn’t told them to quit it yet, so Cosmos assumes they don’t mind, at least.

Not that they’ve really gotten anywhere. A few times a day, the signal will originate from seemingly nowhere, just barely strong enough to be noted, bounce around a few satellites and disappear. No pattern that they can see, no changes in strength or even any indication as to its purpose. It’s just- there.

So far, it looks like he’s not figuring it out today either. Still, he logs the data into his personal file and straps himself into his chair; might as well get to work, since he’s already here.

The quintesson warships have their drop off point on the edge of the asteroid belt, about halfway between Jupiter and Mars. Same place every time. Scientists down on Earth have been throwing around theories as to why, talking about wormholes, string theory and weak spots in the time-space continuum, but it’s more speculation than anything for the most part. Faster than light travel was supposed to be the stuff of fiction after all, but here they are. One moment there’s empty space, and next there is a warship. Really exciting stuff, really! It would just be a lot better if it wasn’t being used to ruin his home.

The quints’ sub light engines reach some impressive speeds as well, but they’re still slow enough to give the people on Earth half a day’s notice before they make planetfall, provided they’re informed the moment the ships appear. Which is why Cosmos is here, watching both the space around both the planet itself and the drop-off zone, warning of incoming attacks. Or, well, to be more precise- he’s mostly watching over the equipment doing all those things, and making sure it keeps doing them no matter what. The human failsafe, so to speak.

It's a bit of a hurry up and wait sort of job. The few days after a drop, it’s constant reports and data being sent back and forth, trying to decipher enemy comms and a simmering worry in his gut as he hopes the pilots down there manage to fend off the quints without heavy casualties. Then, it’s back to long silences and practically twiddling his thumbs, waiting for the chaos to erupt once again.

Which brings him back to the signals. They’re something to break up the monotony, something to occupy his thought on the days when the systems have nothing else to report, like today. Or the past two weeks.

That is why, when a small group of quints suddenly peels off from behind Earth’s mass, heading full speed in his general direction, Cosmos nearly suffers a heart attack. The station’s sensors scream at him, and he may or may not begin panicking a little. He’s a sitting duck here- the station has no defensive capabilities, and no shuttle could get to him fast enough. That is, if they even bothered to try in the first place.

But- as he’s trying and failing to open a last call to his family with shaking fingers, he notices the quintessons slowing down to a stop, still nowhere near his position. Instead, they seem to be targeting - he types a few commands into the sensory array with clammy hands - a communications satellite? It looks like any of the thousands of others like it, ESA make, if he had to guess, so why-

And then the satellite- moves. Parts of it shift around each other, forming what looks like limbs and a head, and- no, okay, what?

The satellite, which is now very much not a satellite anymore, opens fire at the quints. Cosmos watches the scene through several sets of digital eyes, mind reeling as the small enemy platoon is- well, torn to shreds, to put it mildly. Whatever this mech is, it’s incredibly efficient, dodging between enemy strikes and dealing devastating blows of its own. His own? Is there a pilot in there? He doesn’t think so; if such technology was in use, he’d have known about it.

Then again, it could be a prototype of some sort. A secret project, maybe? That sounds slightly more plausible, but still- look, Cosmos is no mecha engineer, but even he can recognize something for being wildly out of human technological scope when he sees it. Which leaves only one remaining option, really.

Whatever this is, it’s not from Earth.

And yeah, alright, shit. That’s- well, it’s probably not a bad thing? Seeing as it just sliced through a bunch of quints like a knife through butter, it’s safe to assume it’s not aligned with them. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right? God, Cosmos certainly hopes so, at least.

As the last of the quintessons die, their bodies floating off into the distance, the station’s alarms turn off one by one. All except his custom one, that is. The cheery little chime keeps on ringing, one screen off to the side showing the same odd signal he’s been tracking for weeks now, only stronger. Much, much stronger. Having started the moment the satellite changed shape, the signal keeps going, now recognizable as a multi-layered frequency and coming directly from the alien mech itself.

He's not sure if it’s the adrenaline, his innate curiosity or just plain madness, but Cosmos does something very, very stupid. With still shaking fingers, he tunes into the frequency, puts his headset on, and calls out.

“Unknown craft, this is Cosmos of the Hermes-9, please-“ his voice hitches. Swallowing tightly, he continues, “please identify yourself. I repeat, this is Cosmos of the Hermes-9, unknows craft, please identify yourself. Over.”

For a few moments, the silence is deafening as Cosmos waits for an answer, fear and anticipation mixing in his gut. Then, the mech turns around. Two glowing red optics look straight at him, as if bypassing the hull of his station and piercing through his very soul. His screens black out one by one in rapid succession, words draping themselves across the darkened expanse like stars against the endless void of the universe.

[Designation: Soundwave.]

[chocolate-cream-soldier]

Ficcity feels!

[musette22]

ohohh fellas I am feeling insane today

[crossbackpoke-check]

Looks like that video is about a month & a half after The Trade and trevors broken ankle 😣

re: this video… anon 😭 i had suspicions but it is so much worse to have them confirmed that really was like. trevor’s first Public Appearance without jamie AND post-broken ankle which is traumatic in and of itself no wonder every beat reporter was like ‘oh yeah trevor’s just devastated’

wouldn’t you be miserable too if your best friend just got traded and your body betrayed you and what if it was maybe all your fault!!!

[cheezyharu]

You REALLY need to be there to see my reaction when I saw the words void (Mournfinale) in the Heaven Area 8 announcement lmao, I was jumping around in the middle of school like a fucking toddler...

Anyways, Deicide and TEmTaTiON! Initially it's just Deicide, but then I started thinking about Temp too so here he is lmao

[neverendingford]

.

[thanatosaria]

god going to the doctor always makes me so fucking nervous bc i'm too fucking scared of doctors but i've been off of my antidepressants for like a year now (started to run out and got too nervous to do anything about it bc neither the dr office nor pharmacy was getting back to me about my request for a refill) and it's starting to show i think bc i've been emotionally in shambles lmao!!!!!

anyway i started going to therapy again after like 6 years and getting a jumpstart back onto my antidepressants is like. her first line of action for me and im a people pleaser and dont want to disappoint her during my next session so :''') i am praying praying prayingggggg that this doctor i scheduled is nice and understanding of whats going on with me because all is not well in wafflesville rn

[sugarplumfairy777]

𓂃⋆.˚ ۫ ꣑ৎ a short n’ sweet guide on how to induce the void state ft. hachi

—————————————————————————

meet hachi a young girl who one day stumbles on how to induce pure consciousness. this is her journey:

day 1:

hachi spends her first day scrolling through some of her favorite bloggers posts; a little bit after she scrolls through “#void state” and “#pure consciousness” after a few minutes she comes across a post that reminds her of her power and how she can induce the void state like literally R I G H T N O W now hachi is ready and excited to induce pure consciousness, so she lays down and goes through a flow of instructions and BOOM she is now and her most natural and pure form, which some know as pure consciousness, the void state, I am state, or whatever you wanna call it. now if you thought the following while reading hachi’s journey, you do not understand what it means to be god.

-if you thought that hachi’s journey sounds too fake or too unrealistic because she induced her purest form on the first day of finding out about it, you do not understand.

- if you feel bad now that your journey is longer than hachi’s you do not understand, it doesn’t matter if it’s been two weeks since you’ve been on your journey or if it’s been 4+ years it does not matter at all.

-if you thought of ANY limitations or had any doubt or thoughts of how you can still fail or even uttered “b-b-but that doesn’t make sense, that’s not pos—” yeah, uhm I’ll stop you there before you accidentally make a fool of yourself.

what are you talking about, “impossible” “unrealistic” “too hard” nothing is any of those words for you; a god. like seriously stop making my point fly across your head, YOU ARE GOD. period.

now for the curious people who are wondering, “what did hachi do to induce the void state so fast????”:

step 1: recognize your truth

𓂃⋆ the first step is realizing the most important truth: you are god. you are not a body, not a mind, not tied to any rules or limits. you are pure consciousness—infinite, powerful, limitless. there is no separation between you and the universe because you are the universe. everything flows from you. the void state isn’t something outside of you—it’s within you, always has been.

step 2: it’s already yours

𓂃⋆ the void isn’t something you need to “enter.” there’s no effort, no struggle. it’s instant. you are already there because you are it. time doesn’t exist in the void; it dissolves the moment you recognize your infinite nature. don’t overthink it. you don’t have to do anything special. the void is your natural state—limitless potential, pure being. just by knowing this, you’re already connected to it.

step 3: let go of limitations

𓂃⋆ close your eyes if you want, but know it’s not even necessary. all limits, all beliefs, all stories are illusions. they don’t define you. in this moment, drop everything that tells you who you are “supposed to be.” you are beyond all of that. realize the simplicity of it: there’s no need to fight or overcome anything. just let it go. you’re already infinite.

step 4: feel the stillness

𓂃⋆ once you let go of everything, there’s only stillness. this stillness is you. it’s not the absence of movement—it’s the presence of infinite potential. in this space, there’s no need to question, doubt, or analyze. you don’t need to “try” to reach the void, because you’re already embodying it. the moment you stop chasing it, you realize you were already there.

step 5: exist as pure consciousness

𓂃⋆ in the void, you are pure consciousness, untouched by the world, unshaped by time or space. you are everything and nothing at once. feel this—you are the creator of all, and yet, you are perfectly still. this state is simple, yet profound. you don’t have to do anything to maintain it. just be aware of your own infinite nature.

that’s it. the void state is effortless because you are it. there’s no process, no waiting, only instant realization that you are god, and everything is within your power. hachi did nothing but know her powerful and boom— she manifested her dream closet, her dream body, her dream boyfriend and her dream life in general. if she & so many others can—then so can you 🩷 it’s nothing that deep :p

note: the steps are not required duh anything and everything you do whilst holding the intention of inducing the void state is correct and guaranteed you are god so stop doubting. https://www.tumblr.com/sugarplumfairy777/772229618617991168/failure-doubt-limitations

[jobean12-blog]

Birds of a Feather

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (friends to lovers)

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: You have to attend a close relative's wedding and there's no one better to bring than your best friend, Bucky.

Author's Note: Seeing so much of happy Seb lately-and looking so good-made me want to write something sexy and fluffy so here we are. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thanks Daisy!🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet, tense and flirty, Bucky is the best in every way!

‘Come on up. Room 322.’

His thumbs hang limply over the phone screen, his brain going blank.

When he sent the text ten seconds earlier to let you know he’s arrived he figured you would meet him down in the lobby or at the hall.

Meeting you in the hotel room is a problem he anticipated when he gave himself a pep talk before leaving.

“She’s your best friend. Don’t do anything stupid…like go to the hotel room.”

His fingers finally start to move over the letters. ‘I can meet you down here…’

But maybe you need help with something?

He deletes the text, now typing, ‘is there anyone with you?,’ but that just sounds weird and possessive.

‘I can see you typing,’ you text. ‘Just come up. I need help.’

With a laugh, he deletes everything again and types simply, ‘be right there doll.’

His long legs carry him quickly to the elevator and when he presses the button for the third floor he takes a deep breath, his pulse climbing it’s way up his throat.

The door to your room is propped open with the dead bolt, but he knocks anyway.

“Come in Buck!”

Pushing it open just enough to peek his head in, he calls out, “I could be anyone, and you just invite me in without checking!”

“You just texted me you were coming up,” you sing from the bathroom, quickly continuing before he can say more, “and most of the people on his floor are friends or relatives here for the wedding.”

“Well, I’m glad to know you take your safety as seriously as I do,” he shouts back.

Your voice gets louder as you walk into the bedroom. “With you around I never have to worr…”

You stop for a breath when you see him, but your next words are lost to the blank void of his brain as he takes in your dress and how you look in it. To put it simply- stunning.

“Bucky?”

He startles, having no idea how long he’d been silent.

“Yeah doll…that’s…I’m here.”

When he finally drags his eyes to your face, you’re fighting a smile. “I asked if you could help me?”

“Oh, right. Sure. With what exactly?”

He cringes but steps closer.

“My dress?”

You turn around to show him the fabric at the back that hangs open, a tiny zipper dangling down at your lower back.

Trying to suppress a groan, but not being entirely successful he swallows hard. “That zipper looks very tiny.”

“It is,” you agree. “I realize I should have asked someone with smaller hands to help me out, but everyone is running around with their own nonsense so here we are.”

He approaches with a casual, “sure, of course doll.”

But then he does something without fully realizing it until the shiver runs along your back: he drags a knuckle down the curve of your spine.

You turn and look at him over your shoulder.

He just blinks and looks down to grab the zipper, mumbling about how small it is.

It’s quiet as he carefully pulls the zipper up and when he reaches the top he lets it fall and gently runs a finger along the top of the dress as he moves around to look at you.

“All set,” he whispers.

You smile and clear your throat before giving him an appreciative once over.

“You look hot.”

“Thanks doll. You…” and he struggles when his voice comes out a bit strangled, “you look breathtaking.”

You reach up and touch his bow tie, pulling at the neatly tied ends as you tell him, “I was hoping you’d arrive a flustered mess over how to tie this so I could do it for you.”

With a grin, he reaches up and tugs the end, untying it in a smooth pull.

“Figure you should do something in return after I battled that zipper,” he teases.

Still smiling, you take a hold of the tie, tugging it to align the ends evenly around his neck. “I didn’t get the impression it was such a hardship.”

His answering smirk is so telling you have to stifle a laugh.

“Are you feeling ready for this? I know these big events aren’t your favorite.”

“I’ll manage just fine doll, thanks. Besides, I’ve got the most beautiful date in the whole place.”

With your focus still on his bow tie he takes the opportunity to openly stare. When you smile at his sweet words he’s mesmerized by the way your soft lips part and his eyes stay glued to your mouth.

You look up to meet his gaze and he quickly lifts his eyes, a light pink sweeping across his cheeks.

You blink away and he looks down at your hands, noting the very little progress you’ve made.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Well…yes. I’m sure I can…”

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“You might be right!,” you quip, “but I’m no quitter.”

He’d be happy to stand there all night.

You finally step back, surveying your work, and frown. “I’m going to be honest, not sure I made it look as good as you did.”

He looks down and undoes the mess and you glower as he handily fixies it.

“Wow, no need to gloat you butthead.”

He lets out a full-bodied laugh, eyes crinkled, and nose scrunched, and you enjoy the sight before he explains, “I’ve done it a million times. I’m always the one in the tux when we go undercover.”

“That’s because you’re the one that looks the best.”

“Thanks doll,” he answers quietly.

“There are so many people here,” you whisper as you lead him through the crowd in the hall.

He let’s out a low whistle, nodding in agreement and aking in the décor.

You greet people as you walk, introducing Bucky to those that don’t already know him. Their eyes follow you, curiosity piqued in their expression as they wonder who he is to you.

You wonder the same. Your favorite person in the world. Your best friend…and so much more?

You take his elbow and guide him forward toward the outside set up where the ceremony will take place. On the way you find your grandmother and introduce him.

Since he can’t take his eyes off you he notices the subtle shift in your demeanor, the softening of your face and the adoration in your eyes.

He expects a gentle handshake but instead gets pulled in for a hug.

“Oh darling, isn’t he a sight,” you grandma says, patting Bucky’s cheek. “And you,” she says, turning her eyes your way. “Gorgeous.”

“Thanks grandma,” you beam.

A woman whizzes by, catching your eye and pointing to her watch.

“Looks like it’s time,” you announce.

Bucky holds out one arm for your grandma and the other for you.

“And a gentleman too,” your grandma gushes as she loops her arm through his. “Definitely a keeper.”

“You can keep grandma company,” you say as you approach the chairs.

“Of course, doll,” he says and leans in to kiss your cheek before helping your grandma into her seat.

“I’ll see you after the ceremony.” You gather your dress and turn to head back inside to meet the wedding party. “Miss me,” you call over your shoulder with a playful smile.

He stares as you walk away, quietly admitting, “I already do.”

Slight nerves take over when you hear the music start but the moment you walk out into the crowd your eyes zero in on Bucky. And what do you know? He’s looking right back at you…and he doesn’t take his eyes off you the whole ceremony.

After the ceremony it takes forever to work your way through the crowd to him, and in between catching up with friends and family or directing someone somewhere, you catch glimpses of him smiling and laughing with your grandma and happily keeping her company.

When you finally do reach him, your grandma has been safely escorted to her seat and now a woman hangs off his arm- Jessica. You know her, an old family friend, and you like her well enough, but you step up behind them right as she asks Bucky if she can steal him for the first dance, and your stomach drops.

You jerk to a stop. He hasn’t seen you. He should accept. You’ll hate it, but you’re not in any position to protest.

But then Bucky says only a gentle, “sorry, no can do. Tonight, I’ve only got one dance partner.”

Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest, and you step closer, swallowing down the emotion.

“Hey you two!”

Bucky turns, extracting his arm from Jessica and setting a warm palm at your lower back.

“And here she is. My favorite dancing partner.”

Jessica leans around from his other side and says hello.

“Thanks for coming,” you tell her.

“Oh my god, of course. I wouldn’t miss it. And I was just meeting your friend, James, here.”

She emphasizes the word friend and at her usage of his real name you have to hold back a giggle.

“Isn’t he wonderful,” you hum, sliding your hand up his bicep. “He’s been keeping my grandmother company this whole time.”

She swoons and smiles at Bucky before turning back to you.

“He is. I just wasn’t expecting you to have a date. You’re usually always flying solo at these family events.”

You feel the smile slipping from your face and an uncomfortable laugh escapes.

The simple answer never comes to you, and you feel caught like a deer in the headlights.

“Actually, that’s only because I was away for work,” Bucky steps in smoothly. “I hate to miss any chance to be her date, but my schedule can be pretty demanding sometimes.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” Jessica says. “Work is important of course.”

“Yeah,” he answers, “but not as important as her. So, from now I won’t be missing another event.”

Jessica’s face does a thing. It’s a barely restrained, ‘oh okay, I see.’

Bucky’s smile remains but it doesn’t look entirely natural anymore but when he looks at you, every emotion on his face is genuine.

“Ready to find our seats doll face,” he asks you.

“Sure,” you reply.

“Well, it was nice to meet you Jennifer. Enjoy the party.”

With a firm hand, he leads you away. You allow yourself to be guided up the grassy path and indoors to where a band plays. Bucky grabs you two flutes of champagne off a passing tray and hands you one.

“That was swoony,” you tell him then take a sip.

“All I did was grab it from a tray doll. Time to raise your bar a bit.”

Laughing, you smack his beefy shoulder with your free hand. “Not that! The way you gently let Jennifer have it back there.”

He takes a sip, eyes on you. “She deserved worse, but I didn’t want to start trouble.”

With your brow raised you match his mischievous grin then you take his glass and set it down on one of the small tables, leading him to the dance floor.

He looks confused at first but when your hands slide up his chest and around his neck he circles his arms around your waist.

He relaxes against you, hands warm and strong on your lower back and you rest your cheek to his shoulder.

“You’re always so comfy.”

“Thank you.”

“And you always look out for me.”

He presses a kiss to your temple.

“Of course, doll.”

“You’re my favorite person in the Universe.”

He doesn’t respond at first, not for five or ten or thirty seconds. You keep waiting for the feeling of rejection in his silence but instead it feels like an agreement and finally his words confirm it.

“Mine too, doll.”

Your quiet slow dance is the last moment alone you have for the next few hours because what follows is a whirlwind of a reception.

And the whole time he can’t take his eyes off you.

“Think I’m ready to get out of here,” you say as you slump against his side.

He carefully holds you up as he stands and reaches to take your hand.

“Come on doll face. I’ll take you home.”

When you reach your apartment door your feet are aching, and your legs are tired. You retrieve your key from the hidden pocket in your small purse and slide it into the doorknob.

“I’m going to need you to unzip me,” you say, gesturing casually to your dress.

His silence makes you slowly turn around to face him and when you meet his eyes they’re heavy with heat and desire.

“Bucky?”

“Turn back around,” he says gruffly.

You do as your told and feel his exhaled puff of air against your bare shoulder before he takes your wrists in this hands and places your palms flat against the door. His metal fingers slide down one arm then trace the curve of your shoulder, while his other toys with the small zipper.

He starts to pull it down, so slowly, you feel every brush of his skin against yours and it sends a tremble across your body. For every new inch of your skin that he exposes his breath quickens. You can feel the heat of him so close and your fingers press into the hard wood of the door.

Once the fabric hangs loosely at the sides he stops and slips his hands inside to your waist and turns you back to face him.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs. “I…”

You drag your fingers along his temple and down his jaw. Your finger falls to his bottom lip, tracing it’s outline.

You can see it in his eyes, the understanding that everything between you is easy and you don’t have to try. It’s too good.

Your gaze drops to his lips again and your mouth goes soft. “Kiss me Bucky.”

The words are just barely out of your mouth and he’s already leaning in, lips on yours, warm and urgent, his hands rising to cup your face. Your instincts send tight, possessive fists to the lapels of his jacket and you melt completely into the domination and tenderness in his touch.

With a quiet groan he tilts his head, deepening the contact into a decadent slide, sending a hungry hand down your body once again and grabbing your ass to press all your softness against the hard planes of his body.

He catches your bottom lip between his teeth, drags slowly away, and you chase the contact, but he stops you, pressing his thumb over your lips.

He stares for what feels like forever, then kisses you again, lingering before he murmurs, “you’re so beautiful,” into the sensitive skin below your ear, and then repeats it quietly into your neck.

“Are you going to stay the night?” you ask breathless.

“If you’ll have m…”

“Yes. Yes Bucky.”

[satellite-evans]

Home at last

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x wife!reader

Summary: Lewis spending hiw morning with his wife and daughter <3

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluff, making out

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

When Lewis woke up that morning, he felt the familiar warmth of peace settle over him. It wasn’t always this way. Mornings used to be quiet—too quiet. Even with his booming career, a circle of friends, and fans cheering his name, coming home to an empty house had been a stark reminder of what was missing.

Loneliness had been a constant companion then, a heavy weight that settled on his chest every time he crossed the threshold of his home. The silence would press in on him, making the space feel cavernous and cold despite its luxurious trappings. He’d sit in the living room, scrolling aimlessly through his phone or staring at the walls, wondering if all the success in the world was worth it when there was no one to share it with. The ache wasn’t just about being alone—it was the absence of connection, of love, of the warmth only a family could bring. He’d envied the simple joys he saw in others’ lives: a partner’s laugh, a child’s hug, the quiet hum of a life shared.

But now, things were different. No, better. Perfect, even. The moment he opened his eyes, the quiet was replaced by the sound of soft breathing beside him. He turned his head to see you, his wife, still lost in the tranquility of sleep. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden hue over your features. It struck him again just how beautiful you were, even with your hair slightly mussed and your cheek pressed into the pillow.

Gratitude washed over him like a wave, so strong it almost took his breath away. You and your daughter, Rana, had filled the void in his heart, replacing the silence with laughter and the ache with a profound sense of belonging. He didn’t just love you; he adored you, cherished you. You were his anchor, his light, and every day he woke up thankful that fate had brought you into his life.

Lewis’s lips curled into a soft smile as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. He could never resist touching you—a grounding force in a world that constantly spun too fast. His hand found its way to your waist, and he pulled you closer, resting his forehead against the back of your neck. This was his favorite place in the world: right here, with you.

“Good morning, love,” he murmured, his voice still husky with sleep.

You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open. A soft groan escaped your lips as you stretched. “Morning, handsome,” you replied, your voice gravelly but endearing. You turned to face him, a sleepy smile spreading across your face. “What time is it?”

Lewis glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “Just gone 8. Rana’s probably about to wake up.”

The mere mention of your daughter brought an automatic smile to both your faces. But as you moved to get out of bed, Lewis tightened his arms around you.

“Not yet,” he whined playfully. “Stay a bit longer. I’m not ready to let you go.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Lewis, I have to get up. Rana’s going to need breakfast, and so will you.”

“I can survive,” he protested, nuzzling into your neck. “Can’t say the same for my heart if you leave me now.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin on your face. “Alright, Mr. Hamilton, stop with the dramatics. How about you make the bed, brush your teeth, and then come help me downstairs? Chop, chop!”

Lewis groaned in mock defeat, flopping back against the pillows as you slipped out of his grasp. “Yes, ma’am,” he called after you, his tone laced with amusement.

Your laughter echoed from the hallway, a sound that warmed his heart and left him grinning like a fool.

When you stepped into Rana’s room, you were greeted by the sight of your daughter standing in her crib, her tiny hands gripping the bars as she bounced excitedly. Her dark curls were a chaotic halo around her face, and her giggle filled the room as soon as she saw you.

“Good morning, my little sunshine!” you cooed, scooping her up in your arms. “Oh, aren’t you the cutest thing?”

Rana’s only response was more laughter, her chubby arms wrapping around your neck in a hug that made your heart swell. After a quick diaper change, you carried her downstairs, placing her in her highchair before heading to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

The smell of coffee brewing filled the air as you worked, humming softly to yourself. Rana was occupied with her favorite picture book, occasionally babbling to herself in a language only she understood. The peaceful morning scene was interrupted by the sound of Lewis’s footsteps coming down the stairs.

“There’s my favorite little girl!” he exclaimed, leaning down to press a kiss to Rana’s forehead. She squealed in delight, reaching out for him, but he turned his attention to you before picking her up.

“And there’s my favorite big girl,” he added, sliding his arms around your waist from behind. You jumped slightly as his lips found the curve of your neck.

“Lewis, stop! I’m trying to cook,” you protested, though your laughter betrayed you.

“I’ve done everything you asked,” he teased, his fingers grazing your sides in a way that made you squirm. “Now I’m asking for a little something in return.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, turning in his arms to face him. “And what exactly do you want, Mr. Hamilton?”

His grin turned mischievous. “Just this,” he said, capturing your lips in a kiss that left you momentarily breathless.

It started slow, his lips moving softly against yours, as if savoring the taste of you. One hand stayed firm on your waist, anchoring you to him, while the other gently cupped your cheek. His thumb brushed your skin, sending a ripple of warmth through you. When he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, you felt your knees weaken. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, coaxing you to open for him, and when you did, a soft groan escaped his throat—a sound that sent shivers down your spine.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, clutching at him as if he were the only thing keeping you standing. His kisses became more urgent, more insistent, and you could feel his need for you in every movement. When his hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between you, your heart raced in tandem with his.

Eventually, the need for air forced you to break apart, but he didn’t let you go far. He rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips as both of you tried to catch your breath.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough. His eyes searched yours, filled with so much love it made your chest ache.

“And you make it impossible to think,” you replied, your cheeks flushed and your lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss.

Lewis chuckled, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Good. You’re not supposed to think. You’re supposed to be here, with me.”

Your playful retort was interrupted by Rana’s voice. “Daddy! Up!”

Lewis turned to see her waving her little arms, her bright eyes locked on him. He chuckled, kissing your forehead before stepping away. “Duty calls,” he said, lifting Rana out of her chair and spinning her around until her giggles filled the room.

You watched them from the kitchen, a smile spreading across your face. It was in moments like these that you were reminded just how lucky you were. Lewis’s love wasn’t just something he said; it was something he showed every single day—in the way he looked at you, the way he played with Rana, the way he filled your home with joy.

Lewis caught your eye over Rana’s shoulder and grinned. “You’re staring, love.”

“Can you blame me?” you shot back, your tone dripping with affection.

And just like that, another ordinary day became extraordinary—filled with laughter, love, and the quiet certainty that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

[xazse]

Female!Reader × HybridPuppy!Yuji

The reader produces breast milk , which she expresses and donates to a shelter for small hybrids. HybridPuppy!Yuji often hugs her and presses himself against her chest to inhale the smell of milk, which makes his mouth water and his cock hard. In the end, he can't resist and begs his mistress to let him suck her milk. Or he sneaks into her bedroom at night and drinks her milk while she sleeps.

Instead of Yuji, you can have Satoru if you want to change the character

Notes: I love this so fucking much, I made a few changes I hope you don’t mind and I’m using Satoru btw because I don’t write for minors.

Pairings: PuppyHybrid!Satoru x LactatingFem!Reader

Warnings: I’m sorry but I’m warning ya now this is some nasty shit but a good nasty if ur into this! + Smut + Lactation + hybrids + reader has big boobs + possessive!Satoru + perv!Satoru + porn with plot + notproofread + bathroom sex + I think I spent too much time on plot and not enough porn sorry!

You love visiting the shelter near your house, it’s just a ten minute walk of you enjoying the scenery and speaking to the townspeople, they always greet you with the warmest smiles because they know you, they’ve known you for years.

In fact everyone here knows you: a widowed mother and wife, a mother whose children have been moved on to pursue their own hopes and dreams so in your little warm house it’s just you. You’ve noticed for a while a void in your heart, the loneliness does get to you some days but not today.

Recently a facility had been built, a hybrid facility, at first you hadn’t ever thought those existed because under new law hybrids are allowed to coexist around regular humans, they are to be treated as such it was a long time coming, it hurt your heart to see them being treated as outcasts.

You learned that this facility was for the young, abandoned and on occasion they’d take in adults who still couldn’t find their place.

And in that place you finally found your calling. for some odd reason you and your doctor couldn’t place you were still weirdly lactating, it was exhausting having sore breasts and an endless supply of milk you’d have to pour down the drain: too embarrassed to donate it in fear of being found out in the small town of people.

You awake up with full boobs that needed to be emptied or you’d spend the entire day in pain, pumping the milk was the only way, you’d only have to do it once a day but the sheer amount could keep a baby feed for the entire day.

You’d been talking to one of the workers of the facility and they’d been explaining how the young ones weren’t exactly taking well to the supplied formula milk, “they’d cry constantly” he exclaimed and it broke your heart into pieces the thought of them not eating hurts you, for the very first time you confided in the worker and he didn’t look disgusted not one bit in fact he seemed overjoyed.

“Disgusted? Why would I feel that way? This means the little ones will eat and not throw fits.” When he finishes that sentence a long drawn out sigh leaves his lips. You can’t help the giggle that falls from your lips.

Suguru you learn comes by your house to pick up the supplements and does he have some comments, he had waited a week to see how much you would produce.

“All this?!” You stand in your doorway shyly nodding in his presence, he’s actually appalled you weren’t lying when you said you have a good bit, he shakes the box in his hands and listens carefully, it’s hard for you to watch him do that right in front of you and not get a little flustered.

He thanks you graciously and makes his way back to the facility, you really hope they like it, it was one hell of a week for you. Though the feeling you did something good swarms you with warmth.

After that it was found that they absolutely loved your milk, and you had plenty to give, it was so cute the way Suguru described their reactions and how priceless it was. One little one had whined for more: Yuji was a special character he required a bit more milk since he was malnourished, Suguru couldn’t stop describing how he would not let go of the bottle, his grip was not going to let up easily, he looked so genuinely happy describing his work and how much he enjoys this field.

You break out of your thoughts and make your way to the facility, it’s downright gorgeous garden greeting you before the glass doors, smelling so good greets you just as warmly, you open the door and offer your greetings to the staff, Suguru had told you on the phone that the little ones had been particularly needy and needed some attention, attention they couldn’t provide right at the moment so they called you: they always do.

They’re way more comfortable with you, always asking when you’re coming back and on occasion they’ll beg you to stay a little longer with them, cute little faces decorated in tears to trick you.

Right now you’re relaxing on the mat in the playroom whilst they all run around chasing after one another, Nobara: a little lion hybrid is trying her hardest to doze off on your lap, she can’t with all the loud children playing like it’s their last day ever. You slowly and softly rub her short locs to lull her, it’s working until Yuji: a tiger hybrid ever the energetic thing is crawling to come bother her.

With Megumi: a wolf hybrid, and basically his other half following right behind him quietly.

Nobara seems unphased by the tiger trying to bother her, simply shooing him away so she can get her beauty sleep, that sentence makes you giggle, you continue to watch the threes antics without saying a word, a show with no production is how they act together.

Yuji sees your hands rubbing Nobaras ears and he’s immediately making his way towards your soft fingers, basically forcing you to rub his orange striped ears, this doesn’t make Nobara happy and she tries to shove him away; whining for your attention again.

You know how they get if you aren’t showing them equal parts attention so now both of your hands are preoccupied, Megumi doesn’t seem to mind, simply sitting and watching on.

You hear his voice before you even see him, he’s definitely running through the halls disrupting the staff, he’s yelling your name so loud that you know its Satoru and how eager he is, you know how eager puppy hybrids can be.

When he pops his head into the playroom the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen, he quickly makes his way over to you ignoring the little growls the babies give him, he’s pushing them aside against your protest and laying in your lap. The grip he has around your waist allows for him to fully envelope himself in your breasts.

“Missed you’s much” he playfully whines.

“You seen me yesterday Toru.”

Satoru lets out a satisfied sigh in the warmth of your boobs, he’s become obsessed with you, and it’s bad he’s had to he reprimanded by Suguru and the other staff multiple times for his possessiveness it’s not his fault though! He can’t control how he feels about you not after that day.

It was when he was feeding Megumi, sometimes as a way to bond Suguru will have Satoru bottle feed them, though he absolutely dreads it, he has to put up with it, all the other adult hybrids are far too hard headed.

He was curious one day, about how the milk had tasted, he found out through Suguru that the formula had been changed to breast milk, it was a slip of the tongue but he himself had also noticed how they whined for more.

He unscrewed the top to the bottle, the little calm Megumi was already drifting off so he wasn’t a problem.

He took a sip, and quickly pulled away: fully expecting it to be the worst thing he’s ever tried: it’s baby food not food meant for him but that feeling on his tongue never came in fact it was actually quite good.

Another sip and another after that; he scarfed the remains of the bottle down with a flushed face, it tassted like- well he couldn’t describe it but he knew he fucking loved it. He found himself sneaking into where it was kept and taking some for himself, it was almost an everyday thing, he knew when Suguru was questioning and bothering him he had to stop but he couldn’t, until he met the source of where the milk was coming from.

He snuggles his face deeper, ignoring and zoning out the loud noises around him, he can smell the milk on your breasts, you recently pumped? Probably this morning to be exact as and all he can think about is how you sat there for hours getting rid of the awful feeling in your sore breasts.

You feel something hard against your leg, you know how Satoru feels about you but this is too much. You’ve already had to tell him in the past that he’s much too young for you and would be better off finding someone who can fit his needs, he insists that he only wants you and doesn’t care about the age difference.

You have yet to bring up these feelings to Suguru though, you can’t bring yourself to say because what if Satoru won’t trust you anymore, it was hard building trust with the man due to his past experiences.

He’s only getting more excited by the minute, his tail moving in slow languid motions.

The way he’s looking up at you is filled with nothing but love and lust, you know that look too well.

You aren’t sure why you’re in a bathroom stall with Toru whilst he feels you up, caressing your boobs, every attempt to tell him to stop dies on your tongue when he rubs a sore area, your breath hitching in your throat when he grinds his hard cock on you.

Such a needy puppy he is, whining under his breath words that you can’t quite decipher especially with how heated you’re getting, your mind getting foggier by the minute as you let Satoru get his fill of you.

He rips apart your blouse and carelessly throws it on the floor, along with your bra next. Your nipples are exposed to the cold air of the facility and Satoru is reveling in it. He paws at your heavy boobs with rough calloused hands that are uncoordinated, squeezing the fat in his hand until he sees what he wants.

The droplets of your milk finally coming to fruition, he licks one nipple and you think you can see him visibly shake with excitement, he filts that nipple in his mouth and suckles, after a good minute he ceases his constant unconscious movements and readily focuses on the sweet milk cascading down his throat.

A moan breaks free from your trembling lips, this feels nothing like the machine you have at home, this feels so fucking good it alone has your cunt throbbing in your panties, the swirling of his tongue and just how content he looks is driving you mad.

You slip into that space that you know is bad for you, your voice is for some reason egging Satoru on, calling him all sorts of names that entice him to suck harder. Your hands don’t listen to you either because you’re rubbing the front of his pants in soft motions.

His whimpers don’t go unnoticed, nor does his swishing tail, such a good boy you tell him, losing all sense of rational he drags you with him to sit on the toilet, you don’t expect the amount of strength he has for being so lanky but he manages it.

He goes right back to sucking on your fat breasts that still replenish his appetite.

You let Satoru strip you of your bottoms and your panties, you let him slip his cock inside of you when you know you shouldn’t, he isn’t big but he fucks constant, always hitting that good spot inside of you based off your reactions.

He looks disheveled and messy, his face red and his mouth dripping with drool and remnants of your milk.

You let him bend you any which way he sees fit in that stall, an overexcited hybrid means it’s going to take a while to exhaust them, though you feel tired after having an orgasm you’ve never experienced he isn’t done, he’s cum multiple times, filled your cunt with his leaky cum he still isn’t done yet.

When he’s got you in his lap leaning on him for support he’s nonstop talking about what you and him will do from here, he talks about how he wants a family of his own and how you’ll be such a perfect mommy to his little ones.

[chlmtsdoll]

BOMBSHELL

౨ৎ @cinnamoncunt asked: can we pleaseee get an either art or patrick fic with victoria secret model reader?

Um, ABSOLUTELY ? Let’s do both ! Perfect timing bc I just settled on being a vs angel for halloween since I don’t have 2 bfs to do challengers this year. I’m sick of seeing the girls on my fyp who get to do it so this will justify my envy. 🤍

౨ৎ summary: it’s 2006 and you’re the opener for this years Victoria’s Secret fashion show. But unlike your other fellow angels, you have not one, but two supportive boyfriends just waiting to get their hands on you after the show.

౨ৎ warnings: 18+, smut !, threesome, p in v (unprotected) sex, oral (f) receiving, early 20’s Art and Pat, model reader, womanizer Patrick, shy Art, reader has dom-ish moments, flirty foreplay, pet names, dirty talk, Victoria’s Secret (the brand) mentions, a song inspo: Long Way 2 Go by Cassie

You might’ve been the only angel backstage with two boyfriends on her radar.

No, you totally were.

And that was fine by you when having the two boys under your wings was your own little secret.

Art and Patrick wouldn’t have missed it for the world. With not only their supermodel girlfriend being the opener for the Victoria’s Secret Fashion show, but fulfilling a great erotic teenage dream — something they both watched together during former years. In their dorm room at the Mark Rebellato Academy, while the other thirteen year olds would be up playing video games, or signing up for extra tennis classes in their free time, those two were glued in front of the tv. Creating a world of their own fantasy’s filled with angel wings and lingering far too overwhelming for them to even handle. Long legs, the bounciest glowing curls and pink bra sets filling the void. Their fascination with gorgeous and exceptionally powerful women at such a young age was far more vibrant than average.

It was what they bonded over from the very beginning.

Doing whatever they could whenever they could to find girls as close to what you happened to be as possible.

So when you came into their life, effortlessly magnetic with your beauty, superb bone structure, glitter dusted skin and a modeling contract — Art and Patrick had been at your beck and call since.

This was your peak. You’d really been here. Your I made it moment sinking in as you sat in the makeup chair backstage. The chaos of other models and their teams all rushing to get ready for the huge fashion show starting in just an hour tops was comforting to you, as an artist smudged on your cherry blush and the stroke of mascara running through your lashes before you checked your reflection in the mirror. Perfection to the way your curls flowed down your back, to even the careless drape of your robe hanging off your shoulder.

In the distance coming from not too far, there had been tousling wings parting as crew of models jumped out of the way, along with yelps like “what the hell ?” and “you guys can’t be back here!” coming from the group of girls.

And of course, it had been your blonde and brunette trailing through the crowd of angels to find you.

You watched with giggles coming from your covered mouth as the most handsomely men approached you. “What are you two doing back here?! You’re gonna get me fired and I haven’t even walked yet- -”

Art had a sideways little smile on his face, and eyes set on your face done up in shimmery makeup. You could nearly feel the way Arts heart had to be beating out of his chest just by the flustered look on his expression. Red and a tad dewy in the heat of the other barely clothed with mostly just rhinestones and lace six foot models surrounding him — but his focus was automatically choked up by you. On the other hand, Patrick’s eyes had been lingering all over the place, standing next to Art with a smirk across his lips as he had already charmed a group of angels nearby. Waving to them a bit with his sly attitude being just what they needed to get the fun pumping out of them for the show. As the girls all giggled to themselves and tried their best to look away, the brunette couldn’t wait to go yapping to all his friends or whoever would listen about all the hot girls he’d seen tonight.

You were so used to his cockiness contrasting Arts sweetness all too well, it hadn’t even phased you in the slightest..

“We uh- - wanted to bring you a little gift.” The blonde one spoke up nervously after clearing his throat, from behind his back, he revealed to you a full bouquet of pink peonies.

“Your favorite for all that hard work in the gym. The prettiest for our pretty girl.” Patrick grinned as he passed the flowers to you and you had let out an excited little noise as you took them. Your smile facing the two men as they watched your every girlish movement that they adored, smelling the arrangement in front of you.

“I- - you guys are too cute. They’re lovely.”

“You look bad ass by the way.” Art finally let himself breathe before chuckling with a smirk. And you grinned at him, pink colored cheeks as you stand to get closer to the men. Lean and in your six inches, Patrick shoved his hands down in his pockets just so resist the urge to touch you. Just a hip or your wrist. Anything he could while you looked like that. In all the eloquence of a woman that you were. Body so fit to him it was almost painful he wasn’t going into a spiral right now.

“Please confirm this for me angel.. can the wings stay on tonight ?” The brunette licked his lips carved into a smile of his own mischievous thoughts, Art then shoved him in his bicep.

You couldn’t help but let out soft laughter as you looked down at the peonies with shyness although your eyes had been full of tease.

“I can’t take them silly, they’re gonna be up in a museum.” You bit your lip as you smiled at your boyfriends. Eyes sparkling under the florescent lights of the room and the pair had collectively sucked in their breaths from.

“Ah.. course, course.” Patrick nodded although he’d still been eyeing you up in your pink stripped robe. “I don’t think they’d be able to fit in the limo anyways, they’re so big..” the blonde one laughed with the two of you, your eyes moved between them before you looked away with a naughty but playful nature.

“Yeah, well, I gotta say I like my pleasures pretty big..” your tone was smooth, as smooth as the way your hand then trailed, pink tips touching delicately over Arts belt buckle to Patrick’s leather as you made sure to meet both of the boy’s widening eyes. You turn back to your makeup chair with a little smile.

“Holy shit.” and “Oh my god.” Was heard behind your shoulder.

“Now go before you get kicked out.” You giggled. Patrick had knock Arts shoulder so he’d come back to earth and start heading out with him. You waved their way with your fingers and could barely hide your embarrassingly big smile, watching them fawn over you even while exiting.

As the show began and the crowd was roaring, the anticipation backstage was an overwhelming high with the rest of your fellow angels. You were first. And that was a lot of weight on your back. (not just from your wings) the moment you stepped on the runway, and the lights set on you, cheers were heard from the far back of the audience as your gleaming smile took upon your face. In your vs set, glimmering down the runway. You felt the adrenaline move within your hips as you not walked, but glided down the runway in a sexiness that had a sense of grace and girlish fun. Excitement big and bubbling through you as you blew kisses to the crowds of not just other models, but fans, legends. Everyone admiring you.

The front row wasn’t absent of familiar faces either because when you found Art and Patrick eyeing each other with proud grins, all the memories and moments of their early teen hoods was like a flashback through their minds. Art and Patrick would shamefully try and hide the way their cocks would tent as they watched one after the other angel strut down the runway. In bliss it was all the wanted to see it right in front of them. Now, that same feeling was on a different level when they got to actually leave with one herself. the moment you flashed a smile at the two boys from the stage before swishing your lace lined hips back stage — they started cheering even more than the others around them. You closed heavenly. And you knew you looked damn good with seven foot pink angel wings behind you.

♡

When the after party rolled around, it was all of your model friends to pour it up in celebration of a phenomenal show. The other angels had begged you to stay, keep dancing on tables and flirting with the guys at the bar — but your desire had been pulled to have your own little after party. But with just your two boys in attendance.

You let them take over your hotel suit with as much whiskey and champagne as they wanted, more wine and more glasses being delivered to your room would rack up a massive bill at the end of the night that your agents would take care of. You couldn’t give a care in the world as you’d been frolicking around that room in your gifted pink set, diamond bra stuck to your chest made you look from another world of heavenliness. Your heels were still strapped on and the r&b from the radio filled the area as you stood on the bed to pose for the camera of your blinged out BlackBerry. You had Patrick snapping pictures, capturing you on your big night. Even if you’d already gotten tons from the show, that just wasn’t enough when you had the looks of a goddess.

“Hell yeah, baby, that’s it.” The brunette edged you on as he got you from all angels, knowing he’d send them to himself immediately after you’d gotten your pick. You giggled with a glass of champagne in one hand, and your other pushing up your locks for more volume. Art sipping on whatever he had while observing you from Patrick’s side. Putting on a show for the two boys without even realizing it.

“Make sure you get my good side,”

“Are they not the same ?” The brunette had made an confused expression from behind the phone. You stopped from posing to reach out and laugh “gimme” you grabbed it from him and all he could do was grin at the way you had no idea just how much of a true bombshell were. Art sat on the bed closest to you while you pressed different buttons to scroll through the dozens of photos with a bitten lip covered in gloss. The blondes eyes ran over your skin, the way you sat in that little set, and the way he relaxed against the comforter of the bed with a shy grin made you look up from your phone to meet his blue orbs.

“What ?” You tittered, throwing your phone to the other side of the bed.

“It’s just, you were so confident out there tonight, princess. You’re always so.. confident. You didn’t even look like a thought of nervousness had crossed your mind,” Art reached out to run the back of his index over your glowing skin and you hid your smile in your shoulder a bit.

“I was so nervous.”

“Really ?” He sat up.

“Yeah, opening in front of all those people ? Live tv ? Half naked and in six inch heels ? I was terrified.”

“You could of fooled me.” Patrick scoffed as he sat on your other side, “what Art said.. your confidence. It’s so sexy.”

“Yeah ?” Your voice was slightly silkier as you look from the brunette to the blonde who were only inches away from you now, breathing in your pure seduction they couldn’t hide the need to want to get that lacy thong off you immediately. Taste what you’d been teasing them with all night long.

“like.. what if my heel got stuck ? …what if I fell ?”

“No way, your- effortless.”

“But would you have rushed to save me ?” You leaned in close to the brunette, batted you lashes with a subtle pout. And it was then that rare occasion when Patrick had gotten choked up on his words occurred. You gave him your sweetest eyes, and smirked at the way his vision trailed down to your lips from there. Hands going to slip around your thigh.

“Who wouldn’t ?” You then heard the blondes voice come in slowly. He watched you turn away from Patrick’s embrace to now focus on him.

Arts eyes meet yours and that sugary smile you always carry returned to your face too soon. You followed what he laid down. Leaning in Arts path now, your lips landed against the blondes. Slow and with ease you kiss and the tension in who’d entrance you first was settled. Art slipped a hand in your waves, he moved his mouth against yours like it had been second nature to him and you sat on your knees to deepen it, tongues running against one another and a soft “mmm” came from the back of your throat as he surprised you with his newfound control over his movements.

Lost in the kisses as your lips smack against one another continuously, the lip stain of your liner now smudged across arts mouth, the blonde groaned. Patrick, felt his hard on grow viscous as he scanned the two of you. And Art, way beyond that point, could of came if it went on just a few more minutes.

You grab on to his curly locks as you pulled him away, softly panting with a smile. Arts lips were lingering nearby as you closed your eyes to peck them one last time before brushing your thumb against his bottom one with a giggle, your view flashes Patrick’s direction.

“Now, are you gonna make me cum or what ?” You sigh before letting your back hit the sheets behind you, leaving the two to fend for themselves at once. You watched Patrick’s digits run over your front side, hunger in his as while feeling up your skin. Art already leaned in to find his place between your legs — the other following when he got the memo. “mmm, you smell like paradise..” Art had his nose pressed against your lace covered cunt. He breathed deep for your sent to fill his senses, and Patrick kissing up your thigh. You observed with a bitten lip as you play with the strap of your bra.

“She is paradise..” was the brunette’s response, he nibbled a bit on the plushness of your thigh and you squeal excitedly. Both boys struggle to let the other get your panties out of the way, you were amused to watch them. You just lifted your legs so it would be easier. They settled on the side since your set had been hot anyways. One leg on the shoulder of the other, you felt a digit come in contact with your clit — already letting out a soft whimper. A tongue laid a stripe up your cunt, and it felt like sweet relief.

Art took his time with going from kissing to lapping at your core, setting his tongue flat then flicking up to your folds, Patrick focused on your clit. Sucking till his lips find their way to eating you in rhythm. Your eyebrows knit together as you let out a higher pitched noise and stuffed your hands into their hair, the overwhelming sensations washed over you. Moans echo clean from your throat. “oh- yeah… good boys.” you heard more groans vibrate from your core and that made you grin. All while now reaching for the pillows above your head as the boys make your legs shake and tremble. You gasp, muttering curses under your breath.

They were too good just oral wise. It had your nails clawing at the sheets in no time as they let all their craving for you out on your pussy, it pushed you into a climax fast.

“Mmm, yes- - fuck !” you whine as you start to cum on the tongues that were fucking into you, even their licking and sucking after your soaked cunt made you shutter. Your grip on the sheets letting up slowly as you came down with a soft sigh. Art rubbed the back of your thigh as he leaned up with the other, they both sat back with their chests heaving and very visible bulges showing from behind their jeans.

You cracked a honeyed smile. “Okay. Let me see those cocks.” You rise to your elbows after the order and the men take no hesitation to get their buttons undone. Your smile turning to a darker smirk soon enough in anticipation.

“She wants to play, huh ?” Art’s lips curled into a grin as he looked up at you whist shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs, Patrick already way ahead of him as he chuckled,

“Always a bad girl under all that sweetness,” the brunette joked as he playfully pulled on your foot and you yanked it away with a giggle. “You know I can’t help it.” You lean up to see the sight in front of you. Both men hard enough to keep you up till sunrise and your eyes light up right then. “Oh, look what we have here..” your tone was playful as you got closer, keeping an eye on them but also the way both their pretty cocks stood in excitement for you.

Reaching out you went to Patrick first. Letting your soft but experienced hand stroke him a bit, just to feel his thickness grow in your embrace.

“Shit..” the word slips from him and you sucked in your bottom lip as you went to work, innocently watching his expression as you stroked him so calmly but with devotion.

“Y’know… I never got a kiss.” The man uttered and you scoffed kittenishly before hovering your lips above his, smooching just once before Patrick went in hot, reaching behind you to palm at your ass and inch you forward to him. You yelped mixed with a string of giggles, pushing him down on the bed so you can climb on top of him.

“Get this off,” your voice was playful and flirty as you pulled Patrick’s shirt over his chest and arms. “You too, Art.” the blonde was quick to follow.

Your dripping core was just inches above Patrick's erect member. You sat at top of his body, just smiling and admiring the view. But it was a known fact the man underneath you was quite impatient, especially when you’d been running your hands down his chest the way you were, acrylic nails doing their own thing by the texture of the hair lightly trialed there.

“You gonna show me how you ride like an angel, princess ? Or should I do it myself ?” You were blushing right after his words, nodding a bit, your hands lead down farther to find his dick, brushing it up against your clothed slit as you sucked in your breath. With just a couple adjustments, you were leaning up so you could fit Patrick’s thick and full cock inside of you. A whimper immediately breaking through you as you sunk down. And the brunette didn’t hold back for a second as he held your hips, thumb kneading against the mesh fabric of your panties and watching the way you move so gracefully above him.

Art was too drawn in by the scene to have even remembered to get himself prepared. He hadn’t touched his cock, but you knew what to do.

Reaching out, you gently took Arts chin in your palm as you brought him close. Still going up Patrick’s cock as you kissed the blonde nice and slow. You all were beginning to be a mess of moans. “Touch yourself while we fuck, okay ?” You whispered against Arts ear. It caused him the most delightful chills. He didn’t think twice as his own hand went to his cock. And you started bouncing on Patrick, whimpering and moaning out like their hadn’t been people in the next door rooms — your hair springing off your skin with you.

“There you go, doll… take my dick. You’re so fucking hot.” Patrick grunted as he held your waist so you could fuck yourself against him, leaving no space between as you rocked yourself on his lap. Your mouth went agape when he readjusted to pound up into your tight hole,

“Yeah- - was I the hottest angel out there tonight ?”

“Fuck yeah..” the brunette grabbed you with roughness so you’d been flush with his chest, you smiled as he made your pussy clench hard frantically and your moans turned into stuttering whines. Taking him like this, you knew you’d cum. So you then hit on his chest to let you up, that way you could save your next high just a little longer.

“Oh- - shit… shit,” you climbed off of the man and sniveled out as you flipped your hair out of your face.

“Oh my god.. baby, I was so close.”

“Not yet. Art, come fuck me.” Your directness had turned the blonde on so much he could feel his cock twitch at your words. He met you, and with one look at your gorgeous set gaze on his and a smirk on your lips it set his thoughts wild. His tongue darted out to wet his own lip as you smiled up at him, you finally got rid of your bra now, and slipped off your panties before placing a hand on his neck tenderly as the other slid up his chest. Arts eyes locked with yours, he just watched you with a coy little sideways smile. And when you turned around, your ass was at his crotch, you were bending over near the bedspread and he sucked in his breath. “Oh, shit..” the blonde muttered. And it made you giggle girlishly.

You were pushing your soaked pussy on Arts member, “my god, you’re so wet.” He announced just ready to pump you full himself, but he knew he wouldn’t want anything to ruin the sweetness of the moment. So he let his tip meet your core, you observed with wide eyes, his dick perfectly pink and dripping of pre cum. You were practically salivating at the sight. “Fuck her good, Art.” Patrick chimed in and the blonde pushed into you with a deep groan leaving his throat, you gripped at the sheets as your face scrunched up and your jaw went hanging. Art slowly moved his hips against you, mouth agape at the sight of your ass against him heavily. Arts hand kneaded against your hip.

You spread your legs a little farther apart to take him. All of him. Moaning like you’d been split in half, Art started to thrust nice and easy. It made you reach back to grab his muscly arm for support and he grunted from the sight of your teasing eyes watching him, you always just had to see Arts face whenever he fucked you, because he was so pretty. Especially like this — chest glistening and damp curls as he made escalating noises exit you. You regularly told him he would be successful if he ever gave modeling a shot. Although he never believed you, thinking you were just being kind. But you really meant it. Art was delicious on the eyes. And not that he took any away from Patrick (him being too pretentious even for the modeling industry anyways) but they each had their own beauty to serve in different ways. Arts gorgeousness came straight from good genes. And just like his face, so did his cock. Wonderful and thicker than most guys his age, especially when he put it to good use like you and Patrick occasionally showed him.

You smile beneath your bitten lip and mewls at your other delectable boyfriend, Arts sly grin was in response and when he pounded into you faster, you felt the bed shake. You couldn’t hold back as you began to scream his name. It was always in the front of your mind to make Art feel good when you knew he struggled with his shyness at times unlike the brunette.

“Yes ! Yes, oh fuck- - make me cum, Art !”

“Yeah ? ..You like that ?” The blonde huffed as he snapped his hips into you,

“Uh hu… harder- - fuck it, just like that.”

Art let his hands palms at your ass, then slide up your torso to cup your breasts. Gripping them in his hands as you slid yourself up and down his member. “Your tits are fucking perfect, oh my god.” You felt slick running down your inner thigh, sheets tight in your palms as your eyes began to roll.

Patrick who watched right beside Art, was jerking himself to the sounds of your syrupy moans. You looked too angelic on Arts cock, he couldn’t help it as his free hand smacked down on your ass while you fucked yourself on Art. It made you both groan. And you loved it, your flirty smile said it all.

Art felt full enough to cum in you right then, the sight of your cunt spread against him was starting to make his head spin. “I’m gonna fill you up pretty girl, you ready ?” It was quick thrusts and a mixture of your half screams and half moans of “fuck, Art!” Filling the noise of the room before you were gushing around his dick. And he was spilling inside of you like that, an uncontrollable amount of his seed was painting your walls and the blonde made sure to get every last drip of it in your sweet cunt. The other man l beside him pumped his cock quick to releasing on your back side all with a string of groans and curses.

You didn’t collapse on your stomach just yet, not only the feeling of the two boys marking their territory on you being too excellent of a feeling to end just yet, but because Art crouched to lick at your puffy cunt. He tasted the mixture of you and him (with Patrick flowing into the mix) as you let out soft whimpers against the pillows. The brunette gripped your ass cheeks to help and you wiggled from the pleasure with a sigh of giggles. “naughty girl.” He smirked, the other licked up what was left of all of you like a pro. Your toes flexed and curled with the punch of his tongue.

“Fuck. That was amazing. You were amazing. ” Was all he could say when he collapsed on he comforter beside you with a deep breath and you turned on your back too. Slowly coming down from trembling. Art wrapped an arm over your body as he rested against your shoulder and you smile.

“That was the most fun I’ve ever had- - ever.” Your laughter was light and Patrick to your side got close to your body too, you let your hand gently caress his jaw.

“They weren’t gonna give you that at the after party we’re they ?” He grinned.

“No. Definitely not.” you shook your head with the sweat on your face only making your half ruined makeup look better somehow. Your love spell body shimmer still stuck to your skin and even got on Art and Patrick’s sculpted bodies pretty nicely as they gently rubbed you down. You smiled before tapping above your cheek bones, and both of your boys knew what to do. They left a two sweet kisses for you.

[pedgito]

𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Joel Miller x reader x Tommy Miller

↝ series masterlist | masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

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 —14k

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.

Miller’s 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 car’s 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 don’t 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.

It’s 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 weren’t 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 wasn’t 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 couldn’t even recognize. 

You squint, hand over your brow like a makeshift visor as you look around and hope to see someone, anyone—this couldn’t be the wrong place?

A truck under the hastily built carport and a trailer attached to the hitch—someone 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. 

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 you—a 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.

“Can I help you, darlin’?” The twang flows out of his mouth naturally, taking a few steps out of the house before he’s closing the door behind him and following the small path of the front yard masked with clutter until he’s near you, a few feet away. “You lost?”

“I—I saw the sign?” You implore, jutting your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of the road, “My car ran out of gas, I’m out of money and it’s 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.”

The man nods, readying to open his mouth before you continue.

“I don’t mind the work, I’m not picky. I don’t have a resume or anything, but I promise—”

“Woah, slow down,” 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, “We’re not lookin’ for some hoity toity types with degrees—you comfortable gettin’ dirty?”

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, “Absolutely. I just need the money and a bed, couch even—you won’t even know I’m here if that’s an issue for you. I can keep busy.”

You glazed over the we in his response, looking around curiously again.

He extends his hand unexpectedly, “I’m Tommy,” 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, “listen—we don’t do the whole hirin’ process. I gotta run it by my brother Joel and there’s a few cautionary steps we gotta take due to the work, but we can give it a test run? See how you feel?”

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. 

It was a farm. Animals. That meant slaughter. 

The thought of it didn’t make you vomit initially, so you considered that a good thing.

It takes one look and he’s giving a disparaging shake of his head, turning his head toward his brother to offer his opinion, “Ain’t worth the trouble.”

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.

“You said you were outta gas, right? Just needin’ some extra money?” He confirms and you answer with a simple nod of your head. He looks over at Joel, arms crossing over his chest, “Said she doesn’t mind gettin’ dirty—willing to help out wherever. I’m sure we can find her some work, right?”

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 sleep—whereas Tommy, he was chipper and well-rested, eyes a warm amber and much more inviting.

“You slaughter cattle before?” Joel asks, “Cleaned up shit? Worked on a farm? Anything like that?”

You shake your head but quickly respond before he has a chance to speak, “I don’t care what the work is—I’ll do it. If I need to be taught, I’m willing to learn. I’m a quick learner too.”

Devotion is what he senses at a slower rate, the slow blink of your eyes as they flick between the two brothers—he could give Tommy an ultimatum and turn you away, but something in his gut twists. 

She’s useful, she’s good. Good supply if it came down to that. Given you passed the tests. 

But, there was something lingering in your gaze, yet to be discovered. Joel was curious.

“Send her to the doc, give her the guest room,” Joel tells Tommy after a moment of thought, sounding slightly irritated but it forces out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, “You’ll start work when we know you’re cleared.”

You nod dutifully and Tommy returns a relaxed smile, “It’s a liability thing,” He promises, “and it’s heavy work, better to know if your body can handle it alright before we put you through the ringer.”

“Whatever I need to do,” You return the grin, tracking Joel’s departing figure as he re-entered the barn and disappears, “is he always that angry?”

“Usually,” Tommy replies, rusting around in his back pocket for a set of keys, “I’ll give you a ride to the clinic and we can tow your car here tonight—to keep away anyone tryin’ to scalp it for parts. Sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect,” You agree, wiping at the sweat on your brow with the back of your hand, “but—do you think I could take a quick shower first? It’s just walking in the heat and it’s been a few days...”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah,” Tommy stumbles over his words, but nods for you to follow him inside.

With trepidation, you take your first steps and follow. 

And what you’re 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, who’s looking on with that same amusement as earlier.

“It’s a lot of work but I try to keep it clean here,” Tommy admits, “The outside is…all Joel, mostly.”

You shake your head with indifference, holding your hands up in defense.

You weren’t judging, it wasn’t your place.

“The shower is down that hall,” Tommy points toward the central hall, rooms lining each side, “first door on the right—did you—do you have clothes?”

“Only one clean pair left,” You confess, “but I’ll make do.”

“We’ve got clothes, if you need them. Don’t be afraid to ask.”

There’s a responsiveness to Tommy that intrigues you—approachable, kind, a hard disjunction from his counterpart that was like a breath of fresh air. You don’t 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 weren’t, not even for a moment, going to question it.

-

It’s 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.

“It’s been in our family for years,” he tells you, traveling down the quiet road and the low hum of the radio mingling with his voice, “s’why it's a mess—can’t be bothered to part with some of that junk.”

“I’m not judging.”

Tommy offers a look of skepticism, laced with a smile.

“It is a lot of stuff,” you grin in response, a subtle quirk at the corner of your mouth.

“Joel is a little sentimental,” Tommy adds, “he’s always been like that—harder for him to let shit go.”

You respond with a gentle nod as Tommy pulls into the parking lot of the clinic, exiting the truck with a swiftness before he’s at the passenger side and opening your own door, “Oh—that is really not necessary—”

“My momma would be rollin’ in her grave otherwise,” Tommy gripes playfully as his fingers curl around the open door, “so, just let me, alright?”

You don’t argue, chivalry be damned.

There isn’t 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 son—he earns a casual nod in return and then you’re 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 head—but 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.

“You’re all good here,” he tells you, “If anything comes up I’ll give the Miller’s a call—you’re lodging there, right?”

Your left eyebrow raises slightly, nodding hesitantly in response.

“Gotten a few like you before,” he comments oddly, “I’m not passing any judgment, it’s just a question.”

“Yeah—yeah I am. Staying there.” 

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, “He ain’t the most approachable guy,” he admits, “but he’s been helpin’ us for years.”

That was one way of putting it.

“Hopefully I pass with flying colors then.”

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, “We can figure somethin’ out anyways, seeing as you’re more than eager,” Tommy grins, teeth peeking through, “I like that.

–

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 doesn’t 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 sink—if they didn’t put a lot of effort into cooking then you didn’t understand the reasoning for the size, but as the thought floods your mind, Tommy plucks it out and answers it.

“Joel is a better cook than me,” he admits, “another bonus, home-cooked meals, a lot of our meats are ethically-sourced—” The look you shoot his way is quizzical.

“Grass-fed and they’re free to roam and forage for the most part, we’re not stuffin’ them full of grain feed to fatten ‘em up. We try to keep things humane. Joel deals with most of the dirty work and I stick to numbers and talkin’,” he explains, “he ain't’ much for socializing.”

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. 

“She cleared?” He asks briskly, “Or we sendin’ her on her merry way?”

“Joel,” Tommy chastises and Joel smirks, taking a quick glance over at you, “doc said he’d call in the morning and let us know, we can spare a meal and a bed for a night.”

Almost as if you two weren’t 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, “Hope you like mess, girl.”

“I’m not picky,” You shrug, resting your hands loosely against your hips as he walks toward the same hallway you had traveled down earlier, “A little mud and grime won’t kill me.”

Joel chuckles softly at that, fully disparaging, “Blood make you squeamish?”

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, “As long as it isn’t mine.” 

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.

“She might just survive ‘round here,” 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 ain’t 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.

“S’much as I’d like to have nice home-cooked meal, I think it’d be better if I grab some dinner from the dinner down the road,” Tommy offers, keys clutched in his grip as he rocks on his heels, “I’m gonna pick up your car on the way back, like I promised.”

And then he smiles, again. But, there’s a moment when it finally reaches his eyes and you can’t help but return the gesture, “I…think I’ll hide out in the guest room until you come back,” you admit, pointing toward the hallway, “no offense to your brother, but—”

“Don’t take it personally,” Tommy assures, “don’t let ‘em intimidate you, either.”

Fight fire with fire. 

It wasn’t your forte, but you were hellbent on survival and you would adapt if you had to.

-

You’ve 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 aren’t expecting is the solid chest that slams into your side, senses overwhelmed with the strong smell of aftershave and clean body wash—it wasn’t a particular scent, just…clean.

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. “Sorry,” you mumble, “thought you were Tommy.”

“I look like Tommy to you?”

You tilt your head, expression pinching together in annoyance. 

Intimidation, just like Tommy had mentioned.

“Yeah,” you respond coarsely, “but at least he’s not acting like someone shit in his food—do you treat everyone like this who comes through here? Is that why you can’t keep people around here?”

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.

“You runnin’?” Joel asks curiously, ignoring your initial question. “Cops gonna come lookin’ for you?”

You balk, offended by his asinine line of questioning. 

“That’s none of your business,” you respond to the first question before spitting out a venomous, “No—what? Scared of a couple cops? Are you hiding something, Joel?”

That seems to strike a nerve decently enough that he rises, creeping around the edge of the island until he’s striding toward you, a hair's breadth away as you swallow hard.

You couldn’t help it—he was large, intense, intimidating without trying. He didn’t 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, there’s rage behind his eyes. It simmers slowly, a creeping boil that would come back to bite you if you allowed it.

“No,” he responds truthfully—at least, it seemed that way. His voice never wavered or faltered, he was strong and believable with his words, “but two things you ‘oughta know—one, don’t go snooping around where your nose doesn’t belong. Two, keep to yourself in this town.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You don’t wanna find out,” 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.

“Nice,” Tommy notes humorously, “you two didn’t kill each other.”

Yet.

“Got us burgers for dinner,” he explains, holding up the bags, “that alright?”

Joel clears his throat, hand wiping over his tired expression, “Already ate,” he responds short, clipped. Tommy doesn’t 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 can’t comprehend how they’ve 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.

–

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 you’ve slept in a decent bed, not the backseat of your car or a mattress that felt like sleeping on a wall of bricks. You didn’t have a reason to complain and given the circumstances—a roof over your head, a space to yourself.

You’d be stupid to argue otherwise.

There’s a quick whistle behind the closed door to your room, followed by a gentle knock.

“Come in,” 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, “—is this the part where you tell me I have to leave? 

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.

“No, you’re all clear,” he tells you, nodding over his shoulder, “we’ve got a few things for you to do this morning but I wanted to keep it light and let you get adjusted.”

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, “Enjoy it,” Tommy remarks, “ain’t gonna feel that good outside.”

Tommy departs with his trademark grin, albeit more subdued by his tired eyes as he knocks his fist against the doorframe. But, as you’re heading for the bathroom across the hall, Joel finds you again. 

He’s 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 outside—his job couldn’t be easy and you weren’t 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 don’t realize he’s holding until it is pressed against his lips, teeth digging into the skin, juices squirting out with the force of it.

“There’s a full dresser of clothes for you in the corner,” He haphazardly points to the mahogany dresser tucked away in the corner, “different sizes and shit, you’ll have to find something. Since you don’t have nothin’.”

You eye him skeptical but don’t 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.

“People come and go,” he explains vaguely, “always leavin’ stuff behind, so—”

Again, he waves vaguely in your direction. 

“Got it,” 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 clothes—at 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 weren’t sure you’ve ever seen in your life, all coated with dried, oxidized blood of varying animals, you assume. You didn’t think to ask, didn’t want to know. 

Not yet, anyways.

Tommy rested his elbow against the edge of the bucket, having led you to the back of the house—it 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.

“Well, he’s a ball of sunshine,” you joke before picking through the bucket of items carefully, keeping your fingers clear of the sharp blades, “is this it?”

“Most of it,” Tommy admits, “for now.”

You nod dutifully and watch as he explains things out in a few steps, rules to follow, a method of attack.

“So, 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,” he stresses, his teeth peeking out beyond his lips as he stresses the syllable on his tongue, “and always use gloves.” 

He grabs the rubber pair and offers it over before he’s speaking again, this time his words coming a little more hesitantly, “Also—I grabbed your car last night. I was gonna tell you over dinner, but I figured you needed a decent night of sleep.”

“As long as you found it in one piece,” You joke, fitting your hands into the gloves, and the silence has your heart dropping into your gut, “you did, right?”

“Yeah,” his voice wavers with hesitation, eyes squinting slightly in a tell that he wasn’t offering the full truth and you tilt your head, mouth turning down in frustration, “but—it was pretty mangled.” 

“You’re kidding me—”

“Tires were slashed,” Tommy holds his hands up, palm out as he attempts to calm you, “there’s some rowdy kids ‘round here always causing trouble. We’ll figure it out for you, alright?”

Your jaw tenses, teeth clenched behind a tight smile and you nod jerkily. A hard swallow and harsh breath later you’re looking at him with softer, kinder eyes. 

“Thank you, Tommy,” you tell him, “I feel like I’m already causing too much trouble for the both of you, doesn’t help that Joel would rather see me as roadkill than—”

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, “Darlin’, we’ve dealt with plenty of trouble. You don’t even come close.”

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, “I’m going to start on some paperwork,” he explains, “come find me when you’re done?” 

You nod dutifully, turning to your task as Tommy leaves.

It isn’t hard by any means. It’s like washing dishes if you ignore the prudent smell and extra scrubbing to get the tools completely spotless before you’re 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 surface—two hours passed and there wasn’t any sight of him. It was like he lived in there, a nocturnal animal that needed the seclusion and no direct sunlight. It couldn’t be that enjoyable to be held up inside the barn all day.

When you’re finished you carry the bucket into the kitchen and place it on a nearby chair, tracking the back of Tommy’s head. He’s tucked away in the corner at the desk he’d shown you the other day, typing away and sorting through a small stack of papers.

Curiosity kills, so you wander over. 

Peeking over his shoulder, nothing really makes sense.

It’s 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. 

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, “Finished already?” 

“Yeah,” you tell him, “I—sorry…if I was supposed to go slow.”

“Oh no, you’re alright,” Tommy turns in his chair, computer screen fading to black behind him, “I still have some stuff to finish up—why don’t you go check and see if Joel needs anything?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Tommy smirks but not in a way to tease or patronize, he understands the presence his brother gives off, all intimidating and mostly unwelcoming.

“Just give a knock on the door,” Tommy instructs, “don’t go inside, he’s really testy about that. If he needs something he’ll answer.”

You compare it to something akin of facing the wrath of some beastly devil, gearing to attack. 

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 wasn’t nice or cordial, not that he needed to be—but it wasn’t 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.

-

It’s quiet outside, morning slowly dissolving into afternoon. It’s 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 Tommy’s words.

Don’t 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.

“You need somethin?” Joel asks, his tone tight and his eyebrow arched slightly in question, his finger wrapped tight around the rusted handle of the barn door.

“Tommy said to check if you needed help,” 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, “I finished—inside.”

“Already?” His voice is clipped but subtle with surprise, “You're the first one in weeks that ain’t emptied their stomach over that shit.”

It seemed extreme, but you knew that some people couldn’t handle things like blood or guts or even the thought of slaughtering animals. But, to you, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Sure, it was gross, but it wasn’t going to kill you.

“I’ve got a strong stomach,” you argue, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly as your gaze refocuses on him, “besides, I told you blood doesn’t make me squeamish. Did you think I was lying?” 

“Don’t know you,” He shrugs simply, “don’t trust you. Is that what you wanna hear?”

You sigh softly, trying to keep the fraying edges of your temper under control, “Is there anything I can do?”

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.

“Actually, I got some scraps for the pigs. Think you can handle that?”

You hear the disregard in his tone and take the opportunity while he isn’t staring you down to roll your eyes, just in time as he turns his head to look at you.

“Do you?”

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, he’s 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.

“Just throw it in there,” He gestures vaguely at the trough inside the pin, “they’ll eat it right up. Oh, clean up the pin while you’re at it, the tools are in the shed out back.”

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.

“Shit,” Joel curses, “shoulda gave you the apron, that’s always a messy task.”

He sounds honest, but you stare daggers back in return.

“Next time,” He offers with a half smile that makes you sick, “don’t take too long—if you want dinner.”

“If you’re cooking, I’ll pass.”

Again, Joel chuckles. Twice in the span of five minutes.

God, maybe you were winning him over. 

“I’m a good cook,” he says confidently, though the snideness in his tone lingers but barely, “you’ll regret sayin’ that.”

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. 

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 didn’t sound too horrible now.

But, the poignant smell of the pig pen was enough to turn anyone’s 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 Joel’s 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.

“Where’s Tommy?” 

Joel stirs away at the pot full of food on the stove, answering with a casual tone, “Finishin’ up some business in town—you sure you ain’t hungry?”

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 Joel’s gaze flickers to you once, then twice.

“You want a taste?” Joel asks, lifting a spoonful from the pot, his hand hovering under the utensil, spotting your weariness immediately. 

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 you’re used to, but it was still pleasant. 

Joel’s 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 Joel’s finger as he cleans up dripping line of sauce that slides down your chin.

And it tastes…fine. You wouldn’t 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 wasn’t wasteful, clearly—savoring every last drop.

“So,” Joel grins wider than he ever has, still sated but it was new, welcoming even, “change your mind?” 

You shrug indifferently, but Joel senses your intrigue.

“I’ll give it a try.”

That’s 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.

You’re still sound asleep, plush lips pulling together in a tight line as you sigh, breathing out through your nose. 

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. 

He’s never gone that far, he’s never tried. He and Tommy have always kept to themselves and while Tommy didn’t stick to a strict diet of Joel’s 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 pen—you were strong, but stubborn. Joel admired it, but he liked the challenge of breaking it out of you too.

He’d 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.

Joel’s come to recognize things—good bone structure, volume of meat and muscle, all the things that make certain humans the perfect piece of product.

And you were just that. 

A pretty penny.

—

Sometime in the middle of your bleary haze you’d 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.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Tommy’s voice cooed, his cold palm pressing against your forehead as your head lifted to look at him, tears streaming down your face now, “you with me?”

You nod weakly, hearing Joel’s heavy footsteps before you spot him, his stocky frame filling out the doorway.

“Musta been dinner,” Joel supplies to his younger brother, “she’s probably ain’t used to the stuff ‘round here. Less processed, harsher on the stomach when you ain’t had it before.”

Tommy’s 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 you’d done something wrong. His hand slips down your back, rubbing at the base of your spine. 

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.

“Get her some water,” Tommy instructs his brother harshly, “and somethin’ cold, she’s sweating through her clothes.”

Joel doesn’t argue, half-expecting him to put up a fight. He retreats, knowing his wrong-doing but not finding the guilt inside him to care. You’d 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, “Don’t run off,” Tommy bites, “we need to talk.”

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.

“If you wanted an excuse to feel me up, you could’ve just asked.”

“Oh, pardon me, sweetheart,” Tommy remarks playfully, “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

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. 

“You need somethin’ you shout, alright?” 

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 decisive—it was the same way he had spoken to you during your first argument.

-

“What’s our one fucking rule, Joel?” 

Tommy’s voice bites, hushed enough that you wouldn’t be able to hear him, nor Joel as they slowly moved toward the front of the house.

“You're gonna tell me not to do it?” Joel retorts, “I already did. There ain’t nothing to argue.”

There was one thing they both knew for sure.

You weren’t like the others.

“She’s gonna find out,” Tommy assures him, “She’ll find out and then you’ll be the one that’s gotta do the dirty work, not me.”

“Afraid of me choppin’ up your girlfriend into tiny little pieces for Robert and Stan down the road?” Joel asks, a vicious and cutthroat way to take a shot as his brother, who he knew better than anyone.

He’s 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, yeah— 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.

“She’s smart—could use that, ya know?” Joel suggests, which is a surprise to Tommy.

His brother, who only ever thought about himself—he was suggesting you stay, that you could help.

“When are you gonna tell her?” Tommy asks, eyebrows raised in question as his hands settle on his hips, pajama pants hanging low. “Tomorrow?”

“I ain’t,” Joel responds without hesitation, “Like I said—she’s smart, she’ll figure it out.”

“Joel, if you don’t tell her I will—”

“No, you won’t,” Joel bites at his brother, stepping closer in an attempt to intimidate, “you tell her and she’ll run for the damn hills—let her figure it out and she’ll confront you. Then we’ll see how good you are at coverin’ our asses.”

It was Tommy’s job, the forefront of their business. He made the sales, talked to distributors in town. He was the face—a pretty face, more approachable. Joel was always sharper around the edges, harder to read.

Regardless, it didn’t matter. Joel had dug the hole for both of them and there was no way out.

–

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 you’ve seen him take—he 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.

“Feelin’ better?” Tommy asks.

Your nod is noncommittal but Tommy doesn’t press.

Without prompting, Joel speaks, “It takes some gettin’ used to,” He explains, “it ain’t like the shit you get in the city.”

It would explain why he was unaffected, that maybe your stomach was just too weak.

“Same business today,” Tommy cuts in, ignoring the long stare you and Joel were holding, chewing slowly at the now soggy toast in your mouth, “we might have some stuff comin’ in tonight though and we’ll all have to offer a hand in unloading it, can you handle yourself?”

You approach him casually, stripping the peel off your banana as you take a bite.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you assure him, eyes pulling up briefly to regard Joel who was already departing for the front door without a word, “—you sure he isn’t trying to poison me?”

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 Tommy’s hand graze your bicep, pulling your attention back toward him.

“He’s not,” If it was a lie, you couldn’t tell, “it all takes some adjusting, he isn’t lying.”

His hand still hadn’t moved and you looked down, his thumb rubbing over the exposed skin of your arm, “You know, I did say all you had to do was ask.” Tommy’s eyes crinkle with laughter, not expecting you to remember your words from last night, “Or, that’s inappropriate because…you’re technically my boss—”

“There isn’t rules out here, honey,” His voice is warm, inviting—but he’s still trying to keep himself at a distance, not too fast or too hard all at once. He’d set out the bait and wait for you to bite it, “we’re just here to help out and mind our business.”

“Okay,” Your response is soft, a gentle lilt to your voice that makes Tommy smile, “and...thank you for last night. I know it isn’t the most pleasant thing to wake up to in the middle of the night.”

His hand drops slowly, fingers trailing until they find your wrist and offering a gentle squeeze before his fingers depart you entirely, “I lived on this farm my entire life. There isn’t much that I haven’t seen or dealt with before. I think I can handle a little throw up.”

Tommy offers up the remainder of his coffee, still warm as you bring it to your lips and savor the rich taste—it 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, goats—it 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 Tommy’s side, earning a chuckle from the younger brother.

“You get used to it,” Tommy tells you, “like everything else.”

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 couldn’t be bothered to care, knowing that Joel’s behavior was nothing if not peculiar.

“What’s in the boxes?” 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 quietly—fine, half-truth.

“It’s stuff for cleanin’ up the barn. All the mess and shit. Interesting enough for you?”

Your nose crinkles at his tone, turning on your heels and heading toward the barn with the men in tow, “You’re snippy today,” you remark at Joel and Tommy hollers out a laugh from behind you, full-bellied and genuine, “when are you gonna give me a tour of it?”

“The what? The barn?” Joel asks for clarification before immediately shutting you down, “Never.”

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, “I’m gonna head inside—try not to kill each other, alright?”

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. 

The curiosity was likely to kill you—just a peek, that was it.

The creak pulls Joel’s attention up and he’s 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.

“What did I fuckin’ say?” He asks. No response. It sets his eyes ablaze, “Answer me, goddammit.”

“Mind—” You gasp again, sharp as his hand presses into your throat now, forcing you to answer, “mind my business.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re doing much of that right now,” Joel points out, “seems like you’re enjoying pressing that nose into places it doesn’t belong.”

It was a barn, for christ sake. What the hell was he hiding?

“Hey,” you croak, weakly, “don’t kill me, remember? Your brother won’t be too happy about it.”

“That’s only because he wants to fuck you, girl.” He assures you, “You ain’t the first and you won’t be the last.”

Your gaze softens, fingers clawing at his forearm. The disappointment in your eyes was obvious, but a sting to Joel’s ego. Tommy was always the more favored one of the pair, there wasn’t much he could do about it. But, it didn’t soften the blow.

His hold lessens slightly.

“Did you think you were the only little lady that’s come through here that my brother hasn’t tried to sink his teeth into?” Joel grins in amusement, tapping his fingers gently against the side of your cheek. It was patronizing and foolish, but he couldn’t resist teasing you for the dejected look on your face. “I like my privacy, alright? Don’t appreciate it when people invade it.”

You nod quietly, lips opening to offer a weak apology.

“Don’t say sorry,” he tells you, “not when you don’t mean it.”

Instantly, your mouth snaps shut. Joel smirks, satisfied that he was right about that.

You weren’t sorry. You didn’t 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.

“You hungry?” He quickly adverts the topic, pulling at the fabric of your shirt to adjust it back into place like nothing happened, “I’m fixin’ to cook up dinner.”

Two could play at that game.

“Is it gonna make me sick again?” 

Joel shrugs, “Might. Might not. You willin’ to take that risk?”

–

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. 

“I forgot to ask about pay, you know,” You laugh softly, “just…slipped my mind.”

“Weekly,” Tommy answers simply, “every Friday. So, tomorrow?”

You do the mental work in your head, feeling like the days have blurred together. Realistically, it had only been a few but you hadn’t 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.

“You feelin’ okay?” Tommy asks curiously, beer tipped to his lips as he takes a sip and awaits your response.

“A little queasy?” You’re unsure what to consider it, that unsettling feeling in your gut. You weren’t 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.

“You’re thinkin’ about it too much,” Tommy points out, “it’ll make it worse.”

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.

“Okay, so—distract me,” you responded pointedly, a kind smile sent his way.

Tommy takes a deep puff before you’re plucking the nearly finished cigarette from his fingers and bringing it to your own lips, feeling the nicotine burn your throat. Tommy doesn’t seem fazed at all, used to it. 

Maybe Joel wasn’t lying about all those women. 

This was a normal routine for Tommy. You were another passerby willing to take the bait.

“You wanna go for a swim?”

Your brow raises curiously, amused.

Tommy looks on, awaiting your response. 

“Oh, you’re serious?” You ask, stuttering at the unexpected proposition, “Uh, yeah—sure. I mean…where?”

“It’s a walk, but there’s a lake behind those trees,” Tommy points off to the west, a long and dense line of trees surrounding the edge of the Miller farm, “feelin’ up to it?”

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 wasn’t 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.

“Come on,” he jests, “dunk yourself, it’ll help.”

You shake your head hesitantly, managing the inch by inch efforts as you move forward slowly.

“I’ll do it with you.” Tommy suggests, his fingers wrapping around your wrists as he wades the water—you feel yourself rising on your tiptoes to give yourself a few lingering moments before you have to force yourself under.

Tommy doesn’t force you, only waits for your reassuring nod after a long moment of indecisiveness before he’s doing a slow countdown and you’re 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, “Distracted enough?”

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 he’s pushing away, using his arms to gain momentum and swim away, looking over his shoulder with a silent challenge.

Chase him. 

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.

“So, you grew up here?” 

“All my life,” Tommy answers easily, “it isn’t exactly tourist worthy sights out here, but it has perks. Where are you from?”

“Here, there—” you answer noncommittally and shrug, earning a dismissive laugh from Tommy, “everywhere, honestly. I don’t stick around places for very long.”

“Which reminds me,” Tommy interjects, “your car should be fixed up soon—but, if you wanted to stick around—”

“I don’t think Joel would appreciate that,” you respond, feeling the heat of his gaze on you despite the farmhouse being miles away, “besides—I’m just another mouth to feed.”

“Most people who pass through here don’t last more than a day,” Tommy admits, “it may not seem like it, but he’s warmin’ up to you.”

You reminisce on the heat of his palm against your throat.

If looks could kill….

Joel would have maimed you at that moment.

“He’s a dick, but he ain’t immune to pretty girls,” Tommy teases and it makes your gut twist, “we don’t get many women through here anyways—I think he’s just forgotten how to talk to ‘em.”

You think back on Joel’s words again and decide to poke the bear. 

Swimming toward the shore you turn your head over your shoulder and speak, “You know, he said this is a bit of a routine of yours,” you begin, “seducing helpless women who come asking for help.”

Tommy rolls his eyes lightheartedly, chuckling at the absurdity of your words.

“Joel told you that?” 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. “Honey, it’s been nearly a year since any type of lady came across our farm—and the last one? It was some old lady needin’ a jump on her car.” 

Tommy is edging closer now, on his hands and knees as he works his way forward.

“People see the farm and they drive in the other direction,” Tommy admits, “but, not you.”

You lean back slightly as he hovers over you. Your heart pounds in your chest, a salacious grin spreading across his face. 

“Helpless, remember?”

Tommy shakes his head slowly, “Ain’t nothin’ helpless about you.”

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. 

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.

“Need a little more distraction?” 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 he’s 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 other’s 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.

“Open up for me,” he commands gently, his hands curling around your thighs as he settles on his stomach, “fuck—that, just like that. Goddamn girl, she’s glistenin’ for me.”

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.

“Nothin’ to be shy about,” 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, it’s beat out by the heat of Tommy’s 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. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re 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.

“Tommy, please—stop, s’too much. Too much.” 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 didn’t snuff out the mental feeling of it. Fear, worry—like you were being watched.

-

The weeks beyond that pass with ease, falling into a steady routine.

Your car still sat untouched, but you couldn’t find it in you to be a pest about it—things 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 doesn’t make much sense to you, as much as you try to piece it together. But, you do know they’re bringing in money. And lots of it. Absurd amount, actually. You don’t press Tommy on it either, worried that it would pop the pristine bubble around you both.

He was smitten, kind—sometimes 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. He’d lied to you about Tommy for his own benefit—but why? You tried not to dwell on it.

But, eventually you find yourself around Joel more often than not. Or, attending to him. 

He still barricades himself in the barn most days, only popping his head out as he calls for things—but there’s one particular evening where things, usually calm, fly off the rails. 

Mentally, at least.

And it isn’t the most auspicious way to let you in on their secret, but Joel can’t seem to rid himself of you. You’re always there, lingering, and even if you weren’t certain of things, suspicion had been raised long ago.

You weren’t even sure what you were trying to confirm, or if Joel’s unsettling nature was just a ploy to scare you into behaving, but you could feel it. Something was up.

He’s tasked you with feeding the pigs a number of times—it’s always gross and messy and not a favorable task by any means, fortunately you’re 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. 

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 wasn’t the full piece, a couple letters surrounded by an intricate design where it was precisely sliced.

You’ve 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 doesn’t sit well. 

Five pigs, that was how many you’d 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, three…and 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 closer—curious and cautious over the loud noises he had heard when his saw cut dead—it was. 

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 didn’t make it inside the trough and then your legs—you don’t 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 they’re locked back on you.

“Get inside,” It was a cold demand, detached and emotionless but you can’t move, frozen with a fear that didn’t hit you until Joel’s fingers touched your skin, “go on—you can walk, can’t you?”

Vehemently, you swallow down the lump in your throat. Human skin, not pig skin. You weren’t feeding the pigs scraps of other animals—it 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 wasn’t here. He would’ve come running otherwise—you 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.

“Stay put,” He commands, eyes washing over your stoic expression.

You must’ve been a sight, wide-eyed and disturbed, following Joel’s every move. You were covered in a mix of your own blood and someone else’s—maybe 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.

“You’re upset,” 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?

“Fuck!” You shout, shoving the trash can aside as your fingers dig tightly into Joel’s shoulder, earning a fiery look from the man—but if he wasn’t willing to give you sympathy, you weren’t going to return the favor, “—you are too, are we pointing out the obvious?”

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.

“Jesus, ease up,” you snap at him, “I fell, I fucked up. I’m sorry, is that what you wanted to hear?”

“What’re you apologizin’ for?”

There’s 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.

“Are you not mad at me?”

Joel chuckles dismissively, eyes flicking up toward you briefly, “Not everything is about you, girl.”

Fed up and simmering with your pain, you don’t think and the words slip from your lips before you can stop them, “Is it about Tommy then?”

Joel’s hands still, stopping the slow dragging lotion down your wound as he tilts his head up at you curiously, “You think I’m jealous of that little thing you got going on with my brother?” Joel shakes his head in amusement, his teeth peeking out beyond his grin, “I don’t get jealous. If I want somethin’, I’ll take it.”

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. 

“Business is slow, I don’t like it.” 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. 

“Is there any way to fix that?”

Joel shrugs, “Tommy’s workin’ the people around town, doing all the talking. We’ll see if it works.”

You have two choices.

Admit what you found or bide your time, poke around and see what you can find—you know that won’t go over well with Joel, or Tommy, even. So, you call his bluff.

Because something—be it Joel or that sinking feeling in your chest, tells you that whichever path you take would lead down the same road. You weren’t leaving here without a fight.

“Does the body reject it the first few times?”

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. He’d 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. 

Joel’s expression changes, like switch flips. Bandaging up the opposite leg he rises, answering with a clipped, “Yeah.”

Silence amongst the clattering of items as Joel piled them into his arms and stored them away, another question slips past your lips.

“Was it on purpose?”

Joel’s brow raises, but he doesn’t answer. 

“The tattoo,” You explain, “did you want me to find it? Or did you fuck up?”

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.

“I don’t fuck up,” Joel retorts and your eyes stray from his hardened gaze, “No—look at me. Now.”

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip harshly, but you listen.

“You knew,” Joel challenges, “long before that, I’m sure. You could’ve ran if you wanted, granted you’ve got that busted car out front, but you could’ve ran. Hell, you could have while you were outside just now—but you listened to me.”

You know what angle he’s pushing, backing you into a corner and you feel it, that tingling feeling of guilt in your gut. He was right, you could have.

“What are you hidin’ in there?” He presses, eyes narrowing as his pointer finger taps gently at the center of your forehead, “I’m telling you we’re murderers, cannibals, and you haven’t screamed or shed a tear. You aren’t scared of me, are you?”

You shake your head and Joel speaks again, “Scared of dying though, right? What’s stoppin’ me from killing you? Tommy ain’t here.”

The finger on your forehead follows down the center of your face until Joel can reach your chin, tilting it upwards.

“You like it here, don’t you?”

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. Don’t give him those words, don’t give him the satisfaction.

“You killed before?”

Another question that goes unanswered, but your actions give you away.

You twist away, desperate to flee his touch. Joel isn’t 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 weren’t 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 others—the few with bad timing and things you needed…it was collateral, in your eyes. Seven of them that you can remember, all unsuspecting men with an eye for the meek and defenseless. 

You snarl slightly, fighting against his hold but Joel is stronger, much stronger. 

“Knew you’d be useful,” Joel admits, “s’why I let you stick around. You got that…look about you.”

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.

“Nuh uh,” Joel mocks, “can’t letcha go that easy, sugar.”

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 moment—incredibly 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.

“There you are, ya little killer,” He goaded, his eyes ticking up at the sound of a car door slamming outside and a wide grin spreading across his face, “well, isn’t that some fine timing.”

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.

“Can’t let you out, honey,” he apologizes, his voice more sincere than you’ve 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, “we gotta figure somethin’ out.”

He tosses the letter on the dining table and slides his hand down your forearm, a softer grip than his counterpart but it didn’t leave room for argument, jostling you around until he could get the front door locked, dead-bolted, and secured.

“This is home now, baby.” Tommy soothes.

Because really, where else did you have to go?

[amermaidsecretdiary]

I'M QUITTING + MY VOID STATE SUCCESS STORY

Hello guys, it's been a long time since i have posted something or in general be active here which was mostly because of personal reasons (just focusing on myself), although one of them had to do with our community.

I personally joined loatumblr at the middle of 2022 (from a previous anonymous account i had) but i started posting much later. Back then, the community was at it's peak ngl. The bloggers and the way they explained stuff was honestly, at least for me, so helpful and enjoyable. After the end of 2023 - beginning of 2024 this community started dying. I really didn't like this since I loved scrolling through specific blogs and reading their posts. I tried to post some stuff to give a little bit of life in there and i guess it did help a little.

Quick note; Please don't get me wrong, i'm not saying that the current posts and blogs running right now suck.. what i'm saying is that this community used to be way more alive back then.

One of the reasons why this happened is because people applied and got what they wanted. So they logged off tumblr. When I realised that, I decided to seriously focus on loa and start applying myself. And i ended up manifesting some good stuff, and I was good with it. Although, after some time, i decided that i wanted to manifest a completely new life from scratch, which it was what i wanted to do from the first time i joined tumblr but i ditched that thought and ended up changing some stuff about my current life.

My goal back then was to enter the void state (which im pretty sure it was 95% of the people in here goal too), but i didn't understand it properly so i couldn't 'enter'. I ended up ditching it and manifested without it. But after some point, i did my research and fully understood the void state or better, pure consciousness. If you go through my blog, you won't see much stuff about pure consciousness because i choose to not talk about it in here. The way it is treated it loatumblr just pisses me off. If you post a void success story, people will immediately run to you and ask you basic stuff like 'how did u do it?' when all the information needed about it is already posted. People tend to see it as something 'huge' and believe they can't succeed in it which is bs. If you do a little bit of research on pure consciousness you will understand how simple it is. Although, even if the 'void state' is seem like something that people overcomplete this doesn't mean that you can not use it. What i'm saying is that there are some people who really dislike the concept of it and will recommend u not to try it. Look, everyone has their different opinions and beliefs but if you want to manifest your dream life in the void state, go ahead. After all, it found you for a reason.

So coming back to my experience, since it was always my 'dream' to manifest my dream life in the void state, i decided to do it now. I'm pretty good at lucid dreaming (i've been lucid dreaming 3 years now) i decided to tap into my pure consciousness during a lucid dream. So i did my usual routine, had a lucid dream in which i closed my eyes and found myself floating in a void. I affirmed that i have lucid dreams everynight and then i got out. I did this 4 days ago, and i have had around 3-4 lucid dreams every single night, without doing any practise at all. Also, i have been scripting my entire dream life and i'm preparing myself to finally experience it. I have decided to make a looottt of big changes but two of them are the 'biggest' for me; numb.1 i will manifest that i will completely forget about my current life (i will also not remember anything about the law, for personal reasons) and numb.2 i will go back in time around 30 years ago (again for personal reasons). I mentioned this to make it clear to you that i won't be able to post my 'success story' after manifesting it, since i will not remember anything about me manifesting stuff and also even if i did, i wouldn't be able to post it since i will not have access to tumblr or current technology in general. So my success story is this one. This days, when i find the right time for me, i will have a lucid dream as usual and tap into my pure consciousness again which from there, i will finally manifest the life of my dreams. So that's my final post you will see from me. I hope you all never give up and get what you want because trust me it's worth it and all this found u for a reason. If you really want it and you stay consistent, then it's all yours. My words can not describe the way i feel right now, knowing that i have my dream life right in front of me and i can just grab it and give it to myself anytime, after this big journey. Goodbye everyone :)

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Urged

I think this was the photo that got me in. Of course I get the appeal now. But at the time I thought I was just messaging some other random torso on the apps. I was supposed to just be in and out, no strings attached. After all, he wasn’t my usual type. Looked like a roided out gym rat: bit of a gut; dark, wiry hair; and thick muscles. But muscles weren’t the thickest thing about him, and who was I to pass up a good time?

So I went over to his place. I wasn’t surprised when it was a loft above a small gym. Seemed like the ideal spot for the kind of guy. What I was not expecting was the apartment itself to be so…nice? Normal? I was prepared to get fucked on a twin-sized mattress on the floor, no frame, with sweaty clothes rotting around me. But the apartment had some character. He even offered me something to drink before we got started, in an actual glass. Maybe I needed to raise my standards. We chatted, flirted a bit as I finished my water and let things get hot from there. We kissed in the kitchen, made out in the living room, and worked our way back to his bedroom as sweatshirts, belts, shirts, pants, and straps trailed behind us.

As I positioned a pillow under myself, he took off his wife beater, the last barrier between us. The shirtless torso that seduced me was on full display as I rubbed his chest. As he leaned in to kiss me, I felt engulfed by this bear of a man, skin electric where I felt his hair ticking my bare chest. My senses felt heightened as I tasted cheap beer on his breath and smelled a deep musk of sweat, cum, and Old Spice, more in line with what I had expected from him. He ran his calloused hands over my chest and abs before finally taking up position over my trembling body. I wanted him in a way I hadn’t felt since I was a teen. Normally I would want to talk a bit more, at least give a safe word. But as he surrounded me and I felt his presence, my brain flipped a switch as my body instinctively relaxed for him. There were no thoughts to be had as my mind was consumed by his rich scent, the pleasure of his cock slowly stretching out my ass, and his intense gaze set on my fluttering eyes. At last I felt his bush pressed against my clenching ass. He lingered for just a moment, every throb of his member sending shivers through my body. He leaned in and whispered, “You feeling good, baby?”

I could only moan a bit in response. Feeling his weight bear down on me and his cock in my ass left no room for words. He shoved his pit in my face and I instinctively took a deep huff. Any resistance and tension left in my body released. I felt filled by him, just a vessel for his use. I was about to stick out my tongue when he pulled back and repositioned himself. He held my shoulders as he began moving his hips.

As he slowly began to fuck me, I felt him reach new depths within myself.

“There you go, much better. Let yourself just float”

I couldn’t resist him even if I wanted to. His cock methodically jackhammering my hole had my body riding wave after wave of pleasure. Then, I felt him tense up a bit as his cock swelled just a bit more telling me what was to come. He buried it deep as a pressure built within myself. A few more thrust from him and I shot my load over his furry chest. My mind could no longer handle it. I slipped off into a void of pure bliss, as this stranger collapsed on top of me, feeling his damp fur against my body and filling my senses once again with his musk.

I woke up the next day back in my own bedroom. No one else around. No signs of trouble. No clue how I got back. If the whole experience hadn’t been so vivid, I would have thought I dreamt the whole thing. But as I rolled myself out of bed and into the bathroom, one change became very clear.

Seemingly overnight I had lost my smooth skin and dirty blonde curls. In its place was hair. Thick, dark, course hair. It covered my chest, my arms, my back, even my crotch. I was shocked but, also, something else began to tickle at my brain. I took off my tank to get a better look at the forest. I flexed my muscles and admired the way it coated my chest and seemed to exaggerate its size. I hit a double bicep pose and smelled a familiar scent. The scent of sweat and heat and masculinity. My mind flooded with images of that night as my cock stood at attention. I shoved my face into my own pit as I bagan jacking off in front of the mirror, admiring my new body. It felt strange but satisfying, watching this stranger in the mirror mimic my every move as I lusted for him. I didn’t realize how far I had gone until I saw the stream hitting the mirror. It was hot, but something still didn’t feel right. As I cleaned up the restroom, I picked up my razor and considered cleaning myself up a bit. But as I lifted it to my face, I noticed my newly hairy pits. Exposing them, the scent of last night invaded my mind again and I couldn’t follow through. I finished getting dressed and I left for the day. With a busy schedule, maybe I could get some answers tomorrow. I think that was the last chance I had to do something, divert from the path laid out for me. But looking back, I don’t know if I would have changed a thing.

No day was as sharp a change as the first, but each morning as I looked myself in the mirror, something was a bit different. Maybe it was the sharpness of my jaw. Or were my pecs always this swoll? One week I swore my feet were growing larger. There is no way that they always slapped the ground like that. But my shoes always fit perfectly. Heck I may even need a new pair soon. My joggers were beat up as hell and reeked when I took them off after my Saturday runs. But soon it was the days that I couldn’t find anything that looked different that began to worry me most. Had I always thought so much about the bodies of the men around me? Did people always talk so fast? But as life slipped back into routine. Soon I began to question myself. Why had I worried so much about any changes? Things never actually seemed out of place, and I worked out hard to get these gains. I had been going to the gym for years and had spent years perfecting my splits. After about two months, I stopped worrying at all. Until finally, one day I woke up and looked myself in the mirror, I saw the same man who greeted me for years.

I was a sweaty gym rat. Always had been. Always would be. I took a deep huff of my own funk, and rubbed my muscles. But everything fell into place, something felt missing. I shouldn’t have to keep this godly body and musk to myself. For the first time in a while, I hopped onto the apps and started scanning through. God, all these old matches were terrible. Why did I used to have such a thing for those muscled-up college boys? They couldn’t grow a beard if their lives depended on it. Besides, I think I wanted someone a little more…submissive. Scrolling through, my eyes caught on this young 20-something twink. Something about him reminded me of someone…someone I used to know. His lithe body, tight curls, and skimpy clothes told me he was a bottom before I clicked on his profile. A few messages back and forth, and he was on his way.

He walked in the door and it was all I could do to contain myself. Something deep within me wanted my seed deep in his ass. I needed him to worship me. I wanted him to become just like me. I had no patience as my body acted on instinct. I stripped my shirt and calmly approached, placing my hand against the wall behind him. As my masculinity and musk washed over the twink, I watched as his eyes fluttered a bit and knew his mind was submitting.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” I asked plainly.

“Ye-yes, sir.”

I grinned as I understood fully now just what had happened to me, and the power I held. But watching this twink practically trembling in front of me, maybe I was even better than my captor had been.

I gave him a quick kiss as I lead him to my bedroom. I couldn’t wait to make another man in my image.