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whoreforhorror · 1 year

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Slasher with an S/O who self-harms

Included: Billy Loomis, Hannibal Lecter, Rusty Nail, Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair

Tw: Mentions of self-harm and blood

Billy Loomis

Billy had been out with Stu as Ghostface quite late into the night. He figured you would be asleep. Still, on the off chance that you weren’t, he made his way to your house. Realistically, even if you were asleep, he was just going to join you in bed.

He got to your window to find you were up, sitting on the edge of your bed with your back to the window. He was happy to see you up because he wanted to spend time with you, but it wasn’t really usual for you to be up quite this late. He snuck in quietly, planning to try and give you a scare, and got about halfway to you before he noticed a few more details he had missed.

You were incredibly quiet, the silence of the room feeling a bit suffocating at the moment. Your head was hung low and you had a blade in one of your hands. Your arms were bleeding. You were… bleeding? What the fuck?

Billy closes in on you, achieving his original goal of giving you quite the jump scare in the process. He didn’t care about that right now. Before you really know what was happening, you’re in the bathroom, sitting while he pulls out medical supplies. Billy was silent and methodical as he cleaned each wound, making sure they weren’t too deep before wrapping your arms in gauze and medical wrap. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t look at you.

He’d sit you back down on the edge of your bed, standing in front of you in silence. Even considering he didn’t really like to talk that much, he was too quiet. It put you on edge and made you worry. You couldn’t tell if he was angry or worried, and his face wasn’t giving anything away.

You avoided eye contact for what felt like an eternity before you came to the conclusion that you’d have to be the first to talk. “Billy-“ You couldn’t get anything out before he dropped to his knees in front of you and hugged your waist, burying his head in your stomach. You could hear him sob quietly into your shirt, and his hold on you was tight.

He cried for a while before he could gather himself enough to talk. Even then, all he said was “Why?”. He’d kill anyone responsible for making you feel this way. Point blank. No Stu, no Ghostface, no teasing or foreplay. It would be him, them, and his knife, and it would be messy. If it wasn’t that simple, he’d listen to everything you told him, anything you’d be willing to share. When you finished, he’d stand up to hold you properly and to talk in your ear. He couldn’t bring himself to talk anywhere above a whisper at the moment.

“I can’t lose you. You’re all I have. I love you so much-“ It was the first time he had told you that and you couldn’t ignore the sting created by having him say it in this moment rather than during something happy and romantic. “I need you here with me. Anything you want I’ll help you with. I’ll do anything to make you feel better, just say the word.”

Eventually, he’d get you to lay down with him and he’d hold you tight as you both slept. From now on, he’d keep a closer eye on you and anything your body language would tell him about how you’re feeling. Sometimes, when he’s really tired and you’re asleep, he’ll run his thumb over your scars and think to himself about how he’d missed the signs and what he can do to keep this from happening ever again.

Hannibal Lecter

The dinner party really wasn’t supposed to start like this. Hannibal had bought you an outfit he’d seen while he was out, and it had reminded him of you. It was a sweet thought, and you couldn’t deny it looked amazing, but there was one issue. It had short sleeves. You’d been able to get away with wearing long sleeves up until this point because of the weather, which was cold, but each day was just a bit warmer and it was to the point where it was too warm to add a jacket to an outfit. So here you were, looking at the outfit laying neatly on the bed, tears in your eyes as you thought about your arms and how Hannibal was going to react. Would he think you’re weak? Imperfect? Valueless? Would he think you were trying to damage his image?

Hannibal, who had been around for nearly twenty minutes, was growing concerned about how long it was taking you to get around. He knocked on the door, calling out to you and asking if everything was alright. You responded, saying everything was ok, but he could hear the distress and shakiness in your voice as you spoke. Of course, he could. He thought about his options for a second before announcing that he was coming into the room. You didn’t want him to but there was no way to keep him out. You knew that.

“What’s wrong, my love? Do you not like the outfit?” He knew it wasn’t that, but he’d rather you tell him what was really wrong rather than him having to figure it out himself. “I can take it back if it’s not to your liking.” You’d have to choose between acting as if you hated the outfit he’d gifted you or telling him about your self-harming. You hated sounding ungrateful, especially when Hannibal was always so gracious. You had to tell him.

And when you did, he goes quiet for a moment. He’d known something was wrong but he certainly hadn’t been expecting that. He hadn’t noticed. How hadn’t he noticed? He’s panicking internally but refuses to let it show at the moment. For the first time in a very, very long time, he’s feeling fear, sadness, confusion, and anger toward himself.

He’ll do whatever is needed to make you feel comfortable. If you want to cover them, he’ll figure it out. If you don’t want to, he’s more than supportive and will shut down anyone who would dare say something about them.

Once dinner is done and the guests have left, he’ll question you. In that moment, you don’t have Hannibal, you have Dr. Lecter. He will want to know how long you’ve been struggling with mental health, how long you’ve been self-harming, what triggers you, how can he help, etc.

He’ll pay close attention to you after he knows. You and sharp objects, that is. He won’t lock away knives or anything of that sort. He knows that will only make you feel worse, but he’ll make sure to remember exactly where sharp objects are and how they’re positioned. He’s going to know if you do it again. Once he knows, it’s impossible to hide it. Point blank. Still, he’ll be gentle about it. He doesn’t think you’re wrong or damaged; he just thinks you need a bit of structure and help.

Rest assured, you’ll get the best care with Hannibal. He’s a psychiatrist after all, and one of the best at that. However, he might use this as a way to subtly manipulate you into sharing his… unique food tastes. After all, why harm yourself when you can take all of your emotions out on others?

Rusty Nail

Rusty is gone A LOT, that’s no secret. But, that means you’re left with a lot of time to think, and thinking leads you to, well, the predicament you’re in now. You didn’t think he was supposed to be home for another day or two, but he’s early. He’s early and your arm is leaking fresh blood. If that wasn’t bad enough, you also hadn’t heard him (you were too wrapped up in your thoughts) until he was opening the bedroom door.

“Darlin’?” He’s walking towards you slowly, like you’re an animal that could lash out if he moves too quickly. Gently, he takes your hands and holds up your arms to give himself a better view. He wipes his thumb across a drop of blood to convince himself that this is real, and not a sort of twisted hallucination. “Darlin’.” He says it softly, this time.

He’s incredibly gentle as he guides you to the bathroom to tend to your wounds, quiet too. You’re sat on the side of the tub and he’s kneeling before you. As he finishes, he lets out a deep sigh, looking up at you before circling his arms around your waist and burring his face into your stomach. His hold is tight, and this lasts for quite a while.

When Rusty gathers himself enough to look at you again, he’ll pick you up and carry you to bed. You don’t feel like arguing. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know he was right, you were tired and you weren’t going to fight him on it. Even if you wanted to, the shattered look in his eyes acted as a foolproof deterrent.

As you nap, he cooks a meal for you. He wakes you up after a while to eat and draws you a bath after you’re done. He doesn’t say much. He doesn’t know what to say. For every moment he can, he’s going to take care of you like your royalty. Gradually, as the tension loosens, he’ll talk more and so will you but there is still a heavy sadness and tension in the air around him.

He’ll ask you quietly in the morning, as you two laze in bed, why you do it. Whether or not you tell him, he respects your choice. If you do tell him, he’ll want to talk through the issue. If it’s a person, he’s already thinking up ways to draw as much suffering from him as possible. If you don’t want to tell him, that’s ok. He’ll hold you close and whisper things about how much he loves you and what he would do to prove it.

When he’s on the road, he’ll call you every afternoon. Talk to him about anything, he just wants to hear you speak and get insight on your day. He wants to make sure you’re ok, as well.

He’d take you for a drive if you wanted. He absolutely loves having you in his passenger seat, riding alongside him in his rig. It makes him feel happy and possessive. One night, when he’s not on the road, he’d stock his truck with snacks, drinks, and blankets. He’d drive you out a field and stargaze with you late into the night, possibly until you fell asleep. If that happened, he’d carry you back into the truck so he could drive home.

Michael Myers

Micheal knew something had been off for a while, but assumed you’d come to him when you were ready to share. He’d grown impatient though, and decided to watch you while you thought he was away, to see if he could figure out what was wrong.

He’d caught you in the act and was shocked. Well, he felt as much shock as he was capable of feeling, which is far more than he is used to but not like a person might normally. Still, the pang of emotion was something he didn’t feel often. He’d suspected something was up but he hadn’t suspected this. Not in the slightest.

Of course, he’d seen people self-harm before. He had his time in the hospital to thank for that. He remembered how the doctors would react. Restraints, heavy surveillance, taking away anything even slightly dangerous, frequent and consistent check-ins, and medication, loads of medications. He also remembered how much the patients hated it. He had a few hours before you expected him home, which meant he had a few hours to think.

When Michael came home, you greeted him as you always did. You were cheery and excitable. It put a weird taste in his mouth and a feeling like an itch he couldn’t scratch. It didn’t sit right with him and made him very unhappy.

He was still for a moment longer than normal, catching your attention and causing you to ask if something was wrong. He responds by pointing to your arm, confusing you. He grabs your wrist and pulls up one of your sleeves, and you freeze, looking at him in the eye holes of his mask in shock.

Michael would give you the materials needed to take care of your wounds and watch as you patch yourself up. He’d teach you if you didn’t know how. After, he’d lay on the couch with you and watch movies until you fell asleep. Only after you’re asleep would he leave a kiss on each arm. A promise to you and himself that he’d do what he needed to make you happy.

Michael will be around more after he finds out. Not in an overbearing way, but he realized that he doesn’t spend as much time as he should with you. He’ll bring home little gifts that he thinks you’ll like and will make you masks that he thinks fit your personality. You might even sucker him into cleaning the house or cooking from time to time.

Bo Sinclair

It was WAY too hot for long sleeves in Louisiana. It was the middle of summer, and mid-day at that. Bo thought you’d knock more than a few screws loose to be dressed for late fall at this time of year. And to be outside on top of that?

Bo had asked you to come to the church to help with some minor repairs, and you’d been more than happy to come along. Problem was, you’d had a relapse the night before and your arms were covered in fresh wounds. You were practically dying in the summer heat, but you’d risk the heatstroke to avoid Bo finding out.

“What’re you doin’ with them sleeves? You look like you’re fixin’ to go out in winter, not the Louisiana summer.” You hadn’t really thought of a cover story, which was coming back to bite you in the ass. You’d decided to say you just weren’t feeling too great, causing Bo to look back at you.

“What’s wrong sugar?” You’d responded and said you felt cold and you were tired, and you could tell he wasn’t sure if he really believed you. He put a hand on your forehead as you looked up at him. “Well, you’re burnin’ up but that’s probably because of them sleeves. Why don’t ya take it off? Certainly wouldn’t mind the view to give me a lil’ work encouragement.”

You turned him down and suggested that you’d go get some lemonade, to which he agreed was a good idea and wanted to join you. He was at a good stopping place anyway. While you were washing up to serve the lemonade, you’d had to push up your sleeves a bit to avoid getting them wet. You hadn’t accounted for Bo coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you.

He was about to say something when he saw them. When you felt him tense up, you tensed up too. You froze and waited for him to say something, to do anything that gave you an indication of how to respond. After a few seconds, he took his arms away from your waist and grabbed your shoulders gently, turning you around to face him.

“You know… I’ve got some scars too…” It was the first time you’d seen the scars on his wrist. It was the only thing he could think to do in the moment. You started fretting over him, asking what happened, if he was alright, who did this, and other things along that line in a continuous stream of worry. He had to interrupt you and raise his voice to get you to quiet down. He agreed that he would tell you what happened if you told him why you’d harmed yourself.

In the end, you both wound up having an hours-long conversation about both of your histories and troubles. You both talked until you passed out, holding each other close and feeling leagues closer to him than you had before. It was a rare, bittersweet moment to bond and it would result in a permanent, noticeable shift in the interactions between you two.

After the conversation, you two held each other closer. You were softer when speaking to each other, and arguments often got resolved much quicker and with fewer tears than there used to be. You both understood each other more than anyone else had, and it shows.

Bo would do the best he could to make you feel comfortable showing your arms, no matter what stage of healing they were in. Bo would even show his scars more if it helped, granted that there was no chance of visitors. If tourists said anything about it, they wouldn’t get to be a sculpture. Vincent wouldn’t be able to reconstruct them well enough if he tried. No, they’d wind up in the pit with Lester’s roadkill.

Bo would kiss your scars in intimate moments if you’d let him. It’s his way of showing that he loves every part of you, regardless of how much you like it yourself.

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slut--for-love · 2 months

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How they spend Valentine's Day with you

Bo, Vincent, Lester, Rusty, Chop top, Nubbins, Drayton, bubba, brahms, and Harry

To be honest he forgot about it until either Lester or Vincent brought it up, lucky for him it was still rather early in the day so he told you that he'd be heading into the next town over to run some errands. He came back with some yellow roses, a card, and a small box of chocolates (He might even try something new in bed for you)

Vincent

Vincent was nervous as this would be your guys first Valentine's day with each other and he didn't want to mess it up and ruin everything. He gave you small wax figures of you, him, and jonesy and a few sketches he thought were worthy there enough, maybe next year you'll get some poems

Lester

Like his older brother Lester was also quite nervous he had this whole night plan, he was gonna take you on a nice pretty picnic dinner date with all of your favorite foods but just as you both sat down that's when you felt the rain drops start to hit your head. Lester was so bummed that the picnic went south, you both decided to watch a movie instead

Rusty

Rusty made sure that he would have Valentine's Day off he took you out to a small but nice diner and then drove around for a bit before he drove back to the house. Where he then led you into the bedroom for you to find a bouquet of wild flowers, pink champagne, chocolates, and teddy Bear (and some condoms)

Chop top

He made sure to brush his wig, put on his best vest and grab your favorite records from his collection for tonight. You and him relaxed in his room listening to all the records you could, dance to them every now and then

Nubbins

He used his best roadkill to make you a pouch so you could match him!! He even filled it up with all his favorite photos of you sure some of them were blurry or inappropriate but it's the thought that matters. He even asks if you'd stay up and go roadkill hunting with him.

Drayton

Drayton hates this damn holiday it's just a scheme those big companies made to steal the money he worked hard to make but now that he has you? It didn't change his opinion at all he's not going to buy you anything, but he will make the god damn best chili you'll ever have in your life. Though if he's feeling nice he might go to town and buy some ingredients to make his own chocolate (keyword might)

Bubba

Bubba doesn't really know what to do for Valentine's Day he's never celebrated it before and he never thought he would but he'll try his hardest to make it a good Valentine's for you. He picked some flowers for you from the side of the road and fields, he even did his chores extra fast so he could spend the rest of day with you

Brahms

You think he's clingy now? wait until the morning of Valentine's Day he's basically attached to your hip, the only time he's away from you is when Malcolm arrives to deliver the groceries and your surprise. In one of the bags there was some of the finest wine and chocolate money could buy from this town. Brahms stayed up just a little past his bedtime to order them for you

Harry

You're going to spend Valentine's Day alone as much as he'd love to spend it with you, he does have a town to terrorize. That's not to say he won't spend the next day with you, in the morning you'll wake up to a card and heart shaped chocolate box on your kitchen table and who knows he might Even take you on a date to the mines

#harry warden x reader #rusty nail x reader #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #bubba saywer x reader #chop top x reader #nubbins sawyer x reader #drayton sawyer x reader

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fluffy-little-demon · 1 year

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ayo (if you feel like it) write a fanfic about your fav slasher's reaction to y/n stealing their shit like a lil goblin rat; could be a shirt, a jacket, a fav dessert, their hat etc, etc lol

I am so sorry this took so long 😭 I hope this is ok and you like it 💕

I did Rusty Nail, Bo Sinclair and Michael Myers (I had peepaw in my head but I guess you could read this for any version)

Rusty and Bo call the reader baby Bo also calls the reader a little minx

Rusty Nail

Gif by @tinalbion

Rusty had put his jacket on the couch momentarily while he went to fetch his phone from upstairs. He came back down and went to grab his jacket only to find it had gone. Rusty chuckled to himself as he walked towards the kitchen where you were making a cup of tea.

"Baby could I have my jacket back please I gotta go."

"But I'm freezing and this is really warm plus it smells like you."

"I could just stay here but then we wouldn't have anything to eat"

"Can't I just come with you. Pleasee?" Giving your best puppy dog eyes.

Rusty rolls his eyes pretending to be annoyed "well come on then, hurry up and put some shoes on."

You quickly but carefully poured your tea into a travel mug to drink on the drink into town. Putting your shoes on while Rusty went upstairs to get another jacket.

Bo Sinclair

Bo had come back home from working in the gas station to have some lunch. He was in the middle of making a sandwich when he felt arms wrap around his waist from behind.

"Hey baby" he says as he turns around in your grasp to kiss your forehead. "You had any food yet?"

"No, I was planning on taking some and Jonesy to that lake in the forest."

"M'kay, just be careful"

"I will" you place a quick kiss on his lips before making your own sandwich. You also pick up a packet of crisps and a can of pop.

"I'mma get back to work, ya gonna be ok?"

"I'll be fine honey" giving him a sweet kiss before taking his hat off his head and it on yours.

"Oi ya little minx, that's mah hat"

"I gotta go byeee" you wave as you walk out the door.

Michael Myers

Michael was looking around for the new hoodie you brought him last week. He had checked the bedroom, the entire wardrobe and the drawers had been emptied, their contents lying all over the floor. He had checked the washing basket. Picked it up and emptied it on the bathroom floor. His hoodie wasn't there either. Michael walked into the living room to ask if you knew where it was, only to find you curled up on the couch wearing the exact hoodie he was trying to find. Michael let out a sharp of air out of his nose before deciding to lie down on the couch and pull you on top of him.

Tags: @sketchy-rosewitch @rottent33th @phantomcat394 @lanamiller comment or send an ask to be added or removed from the list.

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littlenightma · 4 months

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Warm Hands | Rusty Nail x Female!Reader | Part 2 (NSFW)

Author’s Note: Part 1

Tags: NSFW content, older man/younger woman, size difference, dubious consent, kidnapping, possessive behavior, Rusty is doting on reader, lots o’ smut.

The convenience store had long disappeared beyond the horizon miles back, but you still stared at the rear view mirror hoping it would somehow appear again or that you would wake up in your bed letting you know this was all just a bad dream.

The snow storm was worsening as time passed, layering the road with snow, ice, and dirt. He took his time driving and acted nonchalant to the fact that he kidnapped you as he occasionally fiddled with the radio when it lost signal.

Your grocery bag sat in your lap, teasing you of what your night could have been. Watching your favorite show while you lounged on couch, eating your snacks and watching as the snow fell peacefully outside.

Yeah, what could have been.

“What’s your name?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“It’s Rusty. Rusty Nail.”

You visibly deflated. “I meant your real name.”

“That is my name.”

“No, it’s not. It’s a nickname. There’s a difference.”

Rusty shook his head, further cementing his previous statement. “I haven’t considered myself that name in years. Everyone knows me as Rusty and that’s what you’ll call me too.”

“Don’t you want to know my name at least?”

His eyes twinkled amusingly. “I already what your name is, [Y/N].”

Your mouth parted in confusion. “Wait — how do you know that?”

Without taking his eyes off the road, he reached into his jacket and pulled out your wallet, offering it back to you. His voice and face teamed up to convey their disapproval and you felt like a child being chastised by their parent for being caught sneaking out at night.

“This fell when you tried running away from me.”

You took your wallet and examined it in disdain. You never realized it fell nor that he picked it up. So now he knew not just your name, but also where you lived. Great. You stuffed it into your own jacket roughly, punishing it for making your situation worse.

“Where are we going anyway?”

“Home. It’s not too much further.”

You drew your eyebrows together. “You’re taking me to your home?”

He glanced at you then back to the road. “Where did you think I was taking you?”

You shrugged, mumbling quietly. “I don’t know, some cheap motel or something...”

He sighed heavily through his nose, chest rising and falling with confliction. He then rubbed his chin in thought before finally settling on what to say.

“Well, I ain't, so don't worry your pretty little head about it."

You scuffed at his absurd logic. “Yeah, like that’s what I’m worried about.”

Stop calling me pretty.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“No, but I know I won’t change your mind either.”

“You could let me go.”

His answer was quick and final. “No.”

You shook your bag in aggravation, crumbling the snacks inside. “Why not? Can’t you find someone else to fuck?”

He raised an eyebrow, giving you a questioning glance. “Who said anything about fucking you?”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. His head had to be screwed on too tight or maybe he was smoking more than just a nicotine cigarette.

“You! Back at the store you said you wanted company for the night. What else is that supposed to mean? I sure as hell know you’re not taking me home to chat about this lovely weather we’re having.”

He chuckled low, long fingers gliding across the steering wheel as he turned it. Those same fingers flexed away from the wheel before going back to gripping it until his knuckles turned white. His voice noticeably deepened in timbre, exacerbated with desire as he spoke.

“I have every intention on getting you in my bed tonight, but it isn’t to fuck you like some lot lizard I found slinking in the streets. Oh no, little one, I’m gonna be to taking my sweet time with you and you’re going to enjoy every second of it.”

In that moment, the truck passed another car who was going just as slow and careful. Their headlights brightened the tenebrous truck and in their hazy glow, Rusty’s blue eyes caught yours. They threatened you with a dark seductiveness and a dangerous allure and had Rusty not kept on driving you would have thought he was getting ready to pounce you right there.

You found yourself struck silent, dumbfounded and uneasy. You wordlessly turned back in your seat and watched as snowflakes hit the glass pane of your window. His words played back in your mind over and over again like it was an old VCR player and somebody was constantly pressing replay.

From his side of the truck, Rusty’s resistance was waning as time passed into the drive and the more he sensed your rising turmoil. He wanted to pull the truck over to the curb and spread you wide over his seats so he could quell your worries.

He had no intention of bringing home any woman when he stopped by the local shop to get a working lighter and a pack of cigarettes. After being on the road for months on end, he was ready to call it quits for a while, get some chores done around the house he’d been putting off and rest up while he had the chance to.

Funny how plans could change in a blink of an eye.

He swore he stood witness to an angel dashing through those sliding doors bearing a halo of snow and a mischievous smile highlighting your pink champagne lips. He smelled your shampoo when you whipped by briskly not sparing him a glance. He peered curiously over the shelves and watched you peruse the store in determination. He figured you were after something important like bread or milk or even a flashlight, but when you came around the corner carrying an accomplished grin and an arm full of sweets, he grinned himself.

Cute little thing.

He thought nothing more you after that, still intending to get his smokes and lighter and head home, but whether by accident or fate, his hand brushed yours when he passed you and it all hit him at once; your soft skin, your slight intake of breath, your timorous glance and just like that you had drawn him in. Rusty was enamored and he wanted nothing more than for you to follow him because between the few steps he took between you and the door, he decided he wasn’t going home alone tonight.

He waited patiently in his truck for you, cock already half-erect and painful from the delicious images in his head. He lit a cigarette and adjusted himself. Inclining his head back, he blew a few rings of smoke up into the air. His bed had been feeling mighty cold lately the thought of you warming it sounded too good too pass up. He looked out the window and saw you walking closer, eyeing his truck with apprehension.

Come to me, pretty girl. Just a little closer now.

He rolled the window down.

~ ~ ~ ~

“She ain’t much, but she’s home.”

He pulled the truck up a long and winding dirt road until a two-story, white farm house came into view. It looked run down and unkept, but it was a lot better than the dungeon you had pictured in your mind on the way there.

He got out of the truck and came around to your side. He unlocked your door with a key he took from his pocket and offered you a hand. You eyed it with uncertainty and glanced behind his raised arm into the vast darkness where the crystalline snow morphed into the black of night. You contemplated whether or not you should make a run for it.

“I know these mountains like the back of my hand. You’d never make it out of them before I or the animals get you and that’s only if you don’t freeze to death first. But—” He opened the door wider and stepped aside. “—If you’re that set on leaving then I won’t stop you.”

The chilly night air brushed against the back of your neck threateningly. You pressed your lips together. He was right. Running away would be a death sentence. What made it even worse was that you knew he knew you wouldn’t actually run so him giving you an opportunity to was his way of showing you who was actually in control and it was working. Begrudgingly, you placed a hand in his. He squeezed it, giving you a gruntled look.

“Good girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The people pleaser in you delighted in the praise even though it came from Rusty. He led you up the walkway still holding your hand. You didn’t understand why since it should have been clear that you weren’t going to run, but when when you almost slipped on a nasty patch of ice, he steadied you with his strong grip and his refusal to drop your hand became perfectly clear; he was making sure you didn’t fall and hurt yourself.

The inside of his house was interesting to say the least as it looked pretty much abandoned. Cobwebs hung in intricate designs from the ceiling fan and the hardwood floor had long lost its shine due to the several years worth dirt and dust doing their best to speed up the aging process. Various things were stacked into high piles in the corners of the room while others were haphazardly thrown about, forgotten and unused. The house appeared more like a storage unit than an actual home.

Rusty went and turned on a few lamps and the heating system, warming the house both in light and temperature. He came around and took off your coat and laid it on the back of the couch along with his two which left him in a green, button up flannel and a brown t-shirt. He was more well-built than you’d expected and when he bent down to pick up one of his coats that fell to the floor, his arm muscles flexed and you were intimidated by how dramatically they bulged.

He could really hurt me if he wanted to…

Curiosity got the best of you as you wandered the house. You were in awe with how much stuff there was to look at and for a couple of minutes your mind forgot why you were brought here in the first place as you glided your fingers across the different things you came across. Rusty trailed a few feet behind you. He kept quiet, letting you do your own thinking. He found himself growing more self conscious about the state of his house and hoped you didn’t find it too much of a wreck.

“You don’t really spend a lot of time here, do you?”

Rusty shook his head, a hint of regret in his voice. “No, not really. My job requires me to be on the road most of the time so everything in here just sits collecting dust for the most part. Could always use a women’s touch I suppose.”

“You mean to clean?”

Rusty grimaced when he realized how his comment came across and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

You laughed softly. “I know what you meant. Maybe you’ll find someone who will add some life to this place.”

His gaze settled on you, unwavering and penetrating. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You turned away from his unspoken insinuation and met a set of stairs leading you up to what had to be his bedroom. It was the only room you hadn’t encountered yet. No longer feeling up to exploring you tried turning back, but Rusty stopped you short.

“You still have one more room left to see.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t want to see it.”

He leaned in his closer as if to share a secret. His lips scraped your ear, traveling up to your temple, right above your eye where he pressed a kiss there. The small, loving gesture quelled your consternation, but a thick, foreboding cloud of doubt still lingered because the kiss held an implying promise of what was yet to come. You pressed your face into his chest seeking comfort and he rubbed your back a few times before he turned you around to face the stairs.

“Stairway to heaven, sweetheart. Up you go.”

He lightly swatted your backside causing you to yelp. You felt his chest move as he chuckled and pushed you forward. With your head bowed defeatedly, you trudged up the steps. Rusty couldn’t help but appreciate the sway of your hips and how tight your jeans were.

Entering the bedroom, he slid past you, catching one of your belt loops with his finger. He tugged you with him to the bed where he sat on the edge of it, pulling you between his knees. You wrapped your arms around yourself and waited for his direction. You felt out of place and worried that if you didn’t do good enough that it would cause him to become angry and lash out at you. Without dropping your gaze, he unbuttoned his flannel and peeled it off before lifting the brown t-shirt over his head, taking his hat with it. He threw the clothes and hat, well, you didn’t know where he threw them because you were too busy being mesmerized by his chest.

His chest was a chest belonging to a laborer, well muscled and broad. The temptation to touch him was hard to resist and before you knew it, you were exploring it like much like you did his house, running your fingers through the sparse salt and pepper hair. He radiated warmth like a cup of freshly poured coffee that you couldn’t wait to wrap your hands around and enjoy.

As you marveled his body, the next words tumbled out before you could stop them. “You’re really handsome, Rusty. Like one of those greek sculptures.”

The astonished look on his usual stoic face made you regret your words. He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. Embarrassed, you dropped your hands and whispered an apology. Rusty was quick to mend things.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, darlin.’ I just ain’t used to receiving compliments is all.” He grabbed your hands and placed them back on his shoulders and smiled gently. “Will you keep going for me?”

Instead of going back down his chest, you chose to run your hands up the back of his neck to his head. Rusty sat with his hands on your hips, enjoying the attention you were giving him. He closed his eyes when your nails scraped his scalp and groaned loudly.

“Fuck, baby. That feels nice.”

Without his eyes on you, you felt more comfortable to do your own thing and in a spur of confidence, you peeled your shirt off and unhooked your bra. Rusty opened his eyes questioningly and instantly locked onto your breasts that were bobbing teasingly a few inches away. His mouth parted and without a warning he latched onto a nipple and began sucking. His tongue swirled around it, hardening it until it was ripe, and he let it go to do the same to the other one.

Your head leaned back while your chest leaned forward into his mouth. One of your hands cradled the back of his head while the other raked through his long hair, pushing it back from his face so he could suck without interruption. You both groaned in unison from the reciprocating pleasure.

With your hands still lost in his hair, he roamed his own over your stomach, appreciating how perfect and healthy you looked. He wanted to mark you somehow. He wanted you remember this night long after it’s over, like a blood stain that refused to lift.

He suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist and hurled you onto your back on the bed. The old springs squealed beneath the toppling weight of you and Rusty. He loomed over you on all fours like a predator ready to ravage its prey. You felt the vibration of your zipper being pulled down against your pussy and it sent a jolt of adrenaline through you. Sliding his hands beneath you, he coaxed you up.

“Lift your hips for me, sweetheart.”

Maybe it was his deep southern drawl or the way he naturally exuded power and dominance that compelled you to obey without question because as soon as he commanded you to, your hips were in the air. He pulled your jeans down until they were mid-thigh and from there he slipped your off your shoes and socks before sliding the jeans the rest of the way. So now you lay in his bed with nothing but a pair of panties and you couldn’t have been more nervous for them to be stripped away too.

You were a perfect balance between shy and tempting. You crossed your legs attempting to hide from his lecherous gaze, but it was fruitless. Rusty had already mesmerized your beautiful body and all its curves and bends. He grabbed the plush muscle of your thighs, kneading it like dough. His eyes asked for permission to go further, to finally touch you where he desperately wanted to. You sucked in a breath and nodded, looking up at him with so much trust. It warmed Rusty up better than any blazing fire ever could.

You’re safe with me, little one. You’ll always be safe with me.

He peeled your underwear down slowly. His eyes never rose until they were completely gone, tossing them aside like everything else. The air swept across your bareness and you knew there was no going back now. When he did finally look, he made a noise low in his throat and his eyes darkened to a deeper shade. Your pussy was already glistening for him. He pushed your knee with a heavy palm, prompting you to spread yourself.

His lecherous stare on any other man would have repulsed you, but on him it only made the butterflies in your stomach flutter eagerly. Gradually, like the first drifts of snow falling from a cliff before the start of an avalanche, the heavy walls you had built finally collapsed and you shuddered happily.

He playfully rubbed his chin on your thigh. The stubble from his jaw tickled your skin and you reacted in a fit of giggles. Rusty visibly lit up at the sound. He couldn’t remember the last time he heard laughter in his house. He did it again, eyes focused on you. He earned another laugh and loved the smile you tried preventing from spreading. You lurched forward and pushed his face away.

“Hey, stop that! It tickles!”

He smirked, feigning innocence. “Stop what?��

Your eyes narrowed. “You know what.”

“Let me just go down lower then…”

His full lips kissed your thighs, going further until they hovered over your folds. Your breath hitched when his hot breath warmed your pussy. He was so close, yet so far away. It was delicious torture. When you lifted your hips up to his mouth, he abruptly pulled away. You noisily voiced your dissatisfaction.

“Want do you want, baby? Use your words. I ain’t no mind reader.”

You lifted your hips again, begging helplessly. “Rusty.”

“Rusty what? What do you want me to do?”

“I want your mouth on me. Make me come, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

He used two fingers to spread your lips open and latched onto your clit without mercy. A guttural sound echoed in the room and your eyes widened when you realized it didn’t come from Rusty, but from you. This spurred Rusty on and he sucked your sensitive clit so good that you thought the roof was caving in as your eyes rolled back into your skull. You tangled your hands into his hair, using his face as a make shift saddle and his curls as the reins.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised adoringly between licks. “Make me put my mouth exactly where you want it.”

You tugged his hair and pushed him down in a particular spot that had you shaking and weeping because his stubbled chin rubbed your aching pussy in all the right and wrong ways. Soon you felt yourself drawing close to your release and you grinded fiercely on his face in anticipation.

“Rusty—” you gasped, back arching, “I’m going to cum. Don’t stop!”

You could bring any man to his knees by begging like that and you surely brought him to his. There was nothing Rusty wouldn’t have done for you in that moment if it meant hearing that sweet voice of yours crying out to him in ecstasy.

“Fill my mouth, little one,” he growled, reclaiming your pussy with an animalistic ferocity, hungrily eating you out with his entire face buried between your legs so that only the back of his head could be seen.

Like the good girl you were, you did exactly as you were told. Your ribs expanded from the gasp, head reeling back as your orgasm shook you. Rusty never stopped thrusting his tongue, lapping up every drop of your cum. He swiftly pulled you forward so could he drive his tongue further and as expertly as he drove his truck. From his position on his knees, he watched you writhe and squirm, unable to keep still from the intense pleasure that overwhelmed you.

Your thighs locked around his head and covered his ears, muffling your loud moans. Rusty licked everywhere, from the inside of your thighs to the very inner workings of your spasming pussy as if he was a starving man who refused to be wasteful. With a final swipe of his long tongue, Rusty had you cleaned up good. He then placed a satisfied kiss on your pussy before straightening himself.

“How you feeling?”

“I…I need a minute,” you said between breaths. “It’s never felt like that before.”

He kissed your shoulder, purring reassuringly. “Take all the time you need, darlin’. There’s no rush.”

Comforted by his words, you laid back leisurely on his pillows, still experiencing the aftershocks of your orgasm. Rusty laid beside you, running his hands over you soothingly. The lamp on his bedside table casted a tangerine glow on your body and it suited your flushed face perfectly.

A few hours ago you wanted nothing to do with Rusty or his hands. But now your eyes followed their every move, seeking them out when he raised them away then relaxing when he brought them back down again.

His movements casted a soporific effect on you, and soon your eyes began to flutter close and your breathing slowed down to an even rhythm. Your body sank deeper into the mattress as the tension left your body and to Rusty it only confirmed to him that he had an angel sleeping in his bed.

Rusty bent down and kissed the valley between your breasts, easing you back awake. “Don’t give out on me yet, pretty girl. We’re just getting started.”

#rusty nail #rusty nail x reader #slasher community #joy ride 2: dead ahead (2008)#joy ride 2 #mark gibbon #original writing #slasher x reader #slashers

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jesse-cromeans-sugarbaby · 3 months

Text

Y/n: calling her best friend) yeah I know I was gonna let you know when I was free…..yeah…alright.

Slasher: (sitting with a towel wrapped around there hair and a face mask on…waiting for them to finish their call)

Y/n: omggg I know!! Yeah I saw it…yeah NO way!!

Slasher: (sighs walking out of the house before.)

Y/n: yeah so- (hears screaming over the phone) hello? Hm weird (turns seeing slasher covered in blood)

A/n: I apologize for not writing anything college has been hectic as shit. And my electives are taking up most of my time along with main courses

#slashers #rusty nail joyride #rusty nail x reader #rusty nail #slasher x reader #incorrect quotes #slasher x y/n #lester sinclair #slasher smut #asa emory #vincent sinclair #michael myers #norman nordstrom #incorrect slasher quotes

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small-sinclair · 3 months

Text

Little Lady

Young!Rusty Nail x college fem!reader

Rusty is the same age as reader (think 20-25).

I'll write a part 3 and that's going to be smutty/fluffy. Not profread!

Welcomed readers: @sketchy-rosewitch, @fluffy-little-demon, @poir0t-houck, @waxxl0ver, @crumb, @ninakuli, @whimsyvixen, @roadkillerx, @hope4rain19, @vicl0v3

Part 2 to Little Lady

He drove the through your college a couple times, and every time he saw you.

You would smile, wave, and he would pull over and hop out the cab to see you if he had time or if he didn’t have blood on his hands. Rusty would smile brightly and put out his cigarette so you didn’t smell like it. Someone as beautiful and young like you shouldn’t smell like smoke and dried blood. Mostly, he just liked seeing you, his little lady, and hearing how school was.

At first, he didn’t care about your schooling and your dreams, but he had a change of heart when you showed off your fashion designs in your sketch book one day. And the way you lit up about you passing a hard test? He want to bottle it up and put it in his pocket. Everything from your laughter to your smile made him want you more. But it was the way you said his name when you saw him and he slowed down; so nice and light… Rusty would run every red light to hear you whisper his name. Even on those cold and lonely nights, he hears your voice and sees your eyes in the stars.

When he looks down at the reflection of his victim’s blood, he could see you by his side with your eyes closed.

And you couldn’t help but look forward to seeing the young truck driver. He was always so nice to you, and he would bring you sweet treats from a place he’s been or a sweatshirt. His hands were rough and callous already for being in his young twenties, but you couldn’t help but ache to hold his hand. Whatever was in the glimmer of his eyes and light in his voice, you almost felt at home with him.

When he came to town and drove on the main road pass your class, he came in a different truck. A faded, one-seated, red pickup truck with rust around the rims. The back window had a large crack from the passenger side to the center, and there was a bumper sized dent on the tailgate on the driver side. He was parked on the side of the road as you came out of the building, snow gathering to the side of the walkway.

He was leaning against the side with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Smoke curled around his head like a broken halo as he blew up into the air. When his eyes landed on you, he quickly put the cigarette out with his boot and straightened himself up as if he was about to meet a queen.

“Afternoon, little lady,” he greeted with a big smile. His eyes sparkled in the fading sunlight. “It’s a bit late, ya know? With winter and all, sun goes down.”

You hugged your coat closer and your backpack, that hung from your hip with a star key chain he gave you, came tighter. “There’s supposed to be a winter storm tonight, too,” you hummed. You looked at him up and down. “Where’s your truck?”

He gave a soft grin and chuckled. “Got the next two weeks off, doll.” He looked down the road then back at you. “Decided to visit you for the weekend if that’s okay?”

He earned a little laugh from you as you stepped closer to him. “I don’t mind, Rusty. Besides, I feel better seeing you now; it wasn’t the best day.”

He lifted a brow. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No. Just want to go home, really,” you answered, a tried smile forming on your lips. “I’m tired, Rusty.”

Your defeated voice my his heart ache for a moment. He licked his lips quickly then asked, “Do you want me to drive you home?”

You thought for a moment. How well did you really know him? Sure, he would stop sometimes, pull over, and have you hop in for a drive or to take you to the diner off campus if it was really late. You yeah, he would hang out with you, talk to you, let you sleep on his should when you got sleepy, and listen to your week like you would for him. But he never really told you much about his life. He knows about your family and your golf fish, Larry, but you don’t even know if he has a house or a shed!

You didn’t know if you should let him take you home, but it is getting darker and colder…

You came from your thoughts when a sudden blast of cold wind hits your back. Before you could even bundle up, Rusty took you in his arms and hid your face in his chest as the wind picked up. He lowered his head and closed his eyes as snow hit his body, and he shivered as it went down his shirt. He remembered what his aching arms are for when he shields your from the blast of snow and wind as he tucked your head under his chin. He was cold, yes; but he felt your warmth and smelt your sweet cherry scent in the cold air. You are worth getting cold for.

When the wind died down for a moment, he already made his mind up. “I’m taking you home,” he says in the fabric of your winter hat. “It’s too damn cold for ya ta’walk.” Without you protesting or even thinking about having a say, he pushes you to his truck and got you in.

You slid from the driver side to the passenger side easily as he followed in. He started the engine and turned the heater up. He leaned back in his seat then glanced at you. The light snow in his hair and on his eye lashes made him look like a wolf hunting in the winter. If that’s the case, then you might as well be the rabbit.

As the heat circled the truck, he buckled up, looked both ways, and pulled out into the road. “Wanna get food first before I drop you off?”

You buckled yourself up at the stoplight. “I have food in the slow cooker,” you glanced at him then at the snow coming down. “Bet you hadn’t had a good home meal in a while, huh?”

Rusty’s thumb taped on the wheel in thought. “It’s been a while, yeah,” the truck moved forward, “you don’t mind, do you?”

“It’ll be nice not to eat by myself tonight,” you answered. “Besides, I have beef and noodles cooking. Larry can’t have that.”

“Gotta keep that fish happy,” he answered. “But if we fed him gold fish crackers…”

“Cannibalism.”

He snorted out a laugh. “It’s crackers!”

“In the shape of a fish, Rusty!” You protested, giving him an offended look before laughing to yourself.

The snow flakes were starting to fall fast and grew bigger. Rusty glances at you then the road. His smile was warm and serene. “Whatever you say, doll.”

***********

After a missed turn and a quick stop for gas and soda, he parked in front of your apartment. it wasn't too big, only being three stories tall, but it wasn't too small, either. It was close to campus, but it was still far from your college class rooms.

"I live in the basement," you said, pointed at a window that was ground level. "It's a studio, so it's small."

Rusty shrugged as he closed the car door. "Big enough for two people, right?"

"Big enough for two people plus a fish," you answered. "I live on the quiet side of college. Nothing happens around here besides hearing the train at night."

Rusty closed the door tight and followed you down the five steps to the basement. Across from your apartment was the laundry room; no neighbors to say hello or to bother you. As much as Rusty was glad that he got you all to himself, he didn't like that you were alone when you came back from a long day. Come to think of it, he doesn't remember you telling him about your friends. He only knew that your family was three hours away and hardly visit.

When you opened the door to your apartment, he could help but marvel at your room. You apartment was lit by soft yellow and white Christmas tree lights, giving it a warm feeling, and it was clean. You had a couch with pillows, a little coffee table, and a bookshelf in a corner by the kitchen. To the left, your bed was neatly made with stuffed animals and fluffy pillows, and his sweatshirt you stole laid with your p.j. pants. There was a desk with a photo of your family, and Larry's fish bowl was on the dresser. He had a little castle and a dragon skull in the tank and Larry was a fat fish that swam peacefully and carelessly around. When he looked up, he saw printed pictures of you and him taped to the wall, but one photo of him by his truck was in a little circle frame that said "Bless the 18 Wheeler" at the bottom. When he looked closer, he could make out faded lips on his face; your lips.

He looked back at you as you entered the kitchen and pulled down some bowls and cups. "You didn't have to put me in a frame, y/n."

"I know," you answered as you fixed him a bowl of noodles from your slow cooker. "But I did. You're the first person I see in the morning." You exited the kitchen and placed the bowls on the coffee table. "I think you look cute in that photo, too."

"Cute?" He asked. "I ain't cute."

You rolled your eyes as you patted the seat next to you on the couch for him to join you. "I know, I know. You're a big, strong, tough truck driver."

He hung his jacket on the back of your computer chair then sat next to you. His dark brown plaid he normally wears was warn and still dirty. Rusty took the bowl and started eating. "Don't you forget it," he said with a mouthful of noodles. His eyes rolled back at the taste and he started wolfing down his meal. It's been so long since Rusty had a good meal like this. He's so used to gas station food and microwaved food that he forgot was a home meal tasted like. Best of all, it was made by your hands and love.

You ate with him and felt happy. You and Larry weren't alone tonight during the snow storm. Some was with you to keep you warm for the weekend.

"Are you staying the night?" You asked as you brought him another bowl.

He looked out the window at the big snowflakes and watched how fast they were falling. "You sure? I don't wanna intrude."

"I don't mind. Besides," you nodded at his truck. "You're already snowed in, the motels are probly full with other travelers, and the roads were already covered in black ice when you came down," swallowed a spoonful of noodles. "I feel safer with you here than driving in this weather. I have plenty of blankets and pillows for you to use, too."

Rusty acted like he was thinking, but he already had his mind made up. he was going to stay no matter if you said no or didn't ask. He was going to have you for himself tonight even if you like it or not. This is what he was looking forward to ever since he laid eyes on you, but why did he feel disgusted with himself when he looked at your sweet smile? Why did he feel sick when his lustful desires took over and his mind raced with images of you pinned to the bed, begging him to stop fucking you so rough? His stomach turned when his own actions and sinful wishes took over; he couldn't do that to you. He realizes that now. All he want so do is hold his little lady tonight and keep her warm through the winter storm.

"Alright," he said in a low voice. "I'll stay with you, little lady."

#rusty nail fanfic #rusty nail x y/n #rusty nail x reader #rusty nail joyride #joyride fanfiction #joyride 2013 #joyride 2001 #joyride 2008 #slasher fics #slasher fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher fandom #slasher x s/o #slasher x reader #slasher x you

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slxsherwriter · 20 days

Note

I love your works on Rusty Nail and it makes me love him more!

If you're free, can you do a fic where you're on a road trip with your son (Any name). Your ex-husband left you with another woman and you packed a few stuff to head to your friend's house to stay.

Your son is quiet and mostly plays on his side with toy trucks since he has a big interest for them. You decided to try and get his attention by telling him about the CB radio and decided to pretend you're talking to a truck driver.

That's when you accidentally dialled Rusty. You apologized, but your son got interested and wanted to try the radio. You ask Rusty if he can play along with your kid for a moment and he agreed.

Your son then began asking a few questions about trucks and truck drivers to Rusty and he replied back. After a while, your son fell asleep and you thanked him, saying that the kid's never been this chattery and curious before. You and Rusty talk for a moment, with you telling why you're on a roadtrip with your kid and where's the dad.

Finally, you two said goodbye and you hung up, heading near to your friend's hometown.

Meanwhile, Rusty looks at his front view mirror and see the tied up dad in a crate, trying to call out to you by your name. Rusty smirked, "So that's her name huh? Cute~"

Sorry if it's too long!

Hello there, anon! First of all, thank you so much for your kind words. He is definitely an under-served and underappreciated character. Secondly, thank you for my first request! I'm so sorry it's taken a bit since it came when I was MIA from the site. Hopefully, you enjoy.

Breathe. In and out. A steady rhythm and something to focus on so that you wouldn't lose your composure. Breaking down in front of your son was not an option. Your own feelings about everything that had happened over the last near ten hours didn't matter. All that mattered was getting your boy bundled up and buckled up in his car seat so you could leave. Did you know exactly where you were heading? Not one hundred percent. An old college friend out to the northwest was willing to house you for a few days whIle you figured it out. An option you were beyond grateful to have.

“All right, buddy.” You gave Michael a smile as he looked up at you, gripping at the toy truck and the stuffed dinosaur that occupied the car seat with him. Reaching out, you lightly brushed some of his hair back from his forehead. “Are you ready to have some fun and go on a trip?” He nodded, giving a small smile, feet kicking lightly from where he was settled in. The smile felt more genuine this time, and you couldn't help but feel another swell of love for him. Assuring him that it would be a long trip but that you were going to have a lot of fun where you were going, you made sure one last time that everything was buckled before getting into the driver seat.

Bag of drinks and snacks for him in the passenger seat beside you. Check. Cell and cell charger. Check. Last of the bags of what little you could take stuffed into the trunk? Check. There was nothing left for you at the house. Your stomach churned with the thoughts of the custody battle that was likely to come, but that was a future problem. Your ex was too vindictive, clearly. Whether he actually wanted your son or not, he would likely bring you to court over it all.

Starting off, you watched the last twelve years of your life slip away in the rear view mirror until it was completely gone from sight. You had been blindsided when your husband had announced that he wanted a divorce and that he was having an affair. Shell-shocked. It had rocked your entire world. Everything had seemed fine. There hadn't been any indicators that he had been that unhappy or that he had been with anyone else. Your skin had crawled, knowing he had touched you the night before. Fighting was not something that had a place in your relationship ever before, but the situation had devolved into just that, with him following you around screaming. It was a side of him that you had never seen and one that you certainly didn't like. It had been slapdash from there to get what you could and gather up everything that you needed to bring Michael with you. The one person that perhaps your husband should have been more concerned with but couldn't seem to care less about as you packed. Finding a place to go was a little harder. Your husband and his family were the only family that you had left.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you kept checking your rear view, alternating between checking on your son in the backseat and making sure you weren't followed. Perhaps it was a little paranoid, but after everything that had happened, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. As much as you would have liked to think that wasn't the case.

Michael was incredibly well-behaved, as he often was, as you crossed state lines finally. You had stopped twice for a bathroom break and had provided snacks. There were still a lot of miles to cover and hours left in the car before you reached your destination. He wouldn't stay entertained the entire time. So, you had to come up with something. Songs only went so far, and when that failed, you decided to play around with the old CB radio. There wasn't any intent to call anyone or actually use it. Just make a show for your son.

“Hey, Michael,” you started and quickly got the four year olds attention. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“We can talk to some truck drivers on this radio. What do you think about that? Is that something that you wanna do?” You could hear his feet hitting the seat, a sure sign of excitement.

“Really?”

“Yep, really. This is the sort of radio that is kinda like a phone. Every truck driver has one in their truck. It's how they can talk to one another.” You picked up the handle on the mic and made a show as if you were going to call out on the radio, but instead of pressing the button, you just spoke into the mic so it didn't go out over the radio. “Hello. Is there anyone out there who can talk?” Of course, no one would respond, but your son didn't know that. He was leaning as far forward as his car seat would allow him, eyes wide, and hands clutching tightly at his toy truck.

“Can you….can you try again?” How were you supposed to say no to such a request? This time, you didn't realize that the button was depressed enough that your voice was actually heard over the radio.

“Don't know the sound of your voice.” The voice that rumbled through the CB nearly made you jump, and you could hear your son gasp and clap in excitement. Well, shit. Clearing your throat, you realized that you would need to say something in return and be polite. The man was likely busy.

“Well, uh, I'm not someone who uses the radio all that often….I’m sorry if I'm bothering you.”

“Nah, you ain't bothering me none. Nice to have someone to talk to on a long drive.”

“Can we ask him about his truck?”

“If you really don't mind…” You paused for a second, glancing back at your son before giving in. “My son and I are on a road trip. And he loves trucks. He wants to be a truck driver when he gets older. Would you mind if he asked you some questions?” God, you hoped he wouldn't mind indulging your boy about a few things. Otherwise, this could turn out terribly. Things were already going to be a little rough by the time you got to your destination.

There was a few seconds of silence before the voice finally sounded out again. He sounded a bit amused, thankfully.

“Yeah, why not. Bet he's got some good questions.” For the first time all day, you felt some relief and just a hint of happiness. As much as you tried to shield Michael from everything, even at four, he could tell something was wrong. You pulled over to the side of the road for a moment so you could show your son how to use the mic for the CB.

“Okay, Mike. The truck driver is gonna talk to you, okay? When you want to ask him a question, you press this button and speak into this. But you gotta make sure to let go of the button because you won't be able to hear him otherwise. Okay?” You handed over the mic and watched as he looked at it for a moment before pressing the button.

“Hello, Mr. Truck Driver.” You had to suppress a small laugh. He was always polite, something that made you thankful. There was a pause, and you almost reminded him to let go of the button before the deep rumble of the man came back through.

“Evening little man. What's your name?”

“Michael.”

“Well, Michael, you can call me Rusty. I hear you got some questions for me.” You couldn't have been more grateful for the man on the other end of the line. He didn't need to show such kindness to your son. A small light in an otherwise dark day.

“What kinda truck do you drive? What color is it? Can you sleep in it?” The questions started going rapid fire. Before you could tell him to slow down, he stopped so that Rusty could answer.

And that was how the next hour and a half went. Michael was far more engaged and eager than you had seen him almost ever. It certainly went on far longer than you anticipated. You thought that it would peter out after about fifteen minutes, but the naturally shy boy seemed to find his stride talking over the CB and getting all his questions answered. Rusty, for his part, answered back with not over enthusiasm but a genuine enjoyment of having to answer the questions.

You found yourself glancing back when there seemed to be a lull.

“Still there, little man?” Michael was passed out, head hanging against the car seat. Laughing softly, you reached back for the cord to the mic and gently pulled it forward so as to not wake him.

“He fell asleep,” you offered back. “I really can't thank you enough for what you just did. I know it's probably the last thing that you wanted to do. That's the most animated I think I've ever seen him, so he really enjoyed himself.”

“Nah, nothing you gotta thank me for. It's nice to have something to focus on other than the road after a couple of hours.” There was a little untwisting of the guilt that you had felt in your gut when he confirmed that he genuinely hadn't minded. “You need anything, you can find me on this channel. Gonna take a guess and say it's just the two of you on the road.” The comment should have sent off warning bells but he had just spoken to your son for an hour and half, with you being the only adult he had contact with, so it was a fairly well educated guess.

“Yeah, it's just us. Thank you, really. Your kindness was a bright spot in the day. We thankfully only have about another hour to go before we are safe and sound.”

“Good. You get to where you are going safely. Roads can be dangerous this time of night.”

“You're a good man, Rusty. Thank you. I'll find a way to repay your kindness.”

“Ain’ anything to worry about. You focus on your boy.” The radio went silent after that, but it felt like a good ending to the conversation. Smiling to yourself, you felt a bit lighter as you finished the drive to your friends house. As much pain as you were feeling, you were granted the opportunity to remember that there were good things in this life thanks to the man on the other side of the radio.

Rusty chuckled to himself and glanced behind the seat to where the man was tied up on the floor.

“Boy, you must have really done a number on her. She didn't even bother mentioning you.” Amusement tinged the words. “I would say I'm doing her a favor by getting rid of you. Better for that boy not to know his father at all. He'll forget you soon enough.” He lit a cigarette and turned his attention back to the road, thinking of just how he could work out one of those chance run-ins with the woman and her son. The whimpers and pleas of the man just cemented those thoughts. It wouldn't be hard to get where she was heading from her husband in the back. The truck sped up through the darkness of the night, a new intent hanging heavy.

#slasher writing #slasher fic #slasher x you #slasher x reader #horror writing #rusty nail x reader #rusty nail joyride #rusty nail #slasher request #writing requests #joyride fic #rusty nail fic

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tinalbion · 9 days

Note

Hi! Can I please request a smut fic with Rusty Nail? When I saw that you wrote for him, I was so excited because he is so underrated!

Hey there! I've been thinking about this for so long and I am finally here with good news, I am gracing you with more Rusty smut! Something the world desperately needs, I know I do! Thank you for being patient, I know it was a hell of a wait, but I am back as much as I can be!

Rusty is very underrated and he deserves so much more love than what he gets. So I hope this will suffice for the time being! 💙✨

"I Don't Want To Miss You Like I Do" ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Rusty Nail x fem!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄! Minors, DO NOT interact! Masturbation, vaginal fingering, cowgirl, oral, penetration, creampie

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 4k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You had been feeling extra lonely since Rusty had been out doing his job to support the both of you, so with your mind occupied, you figured you'd have some personal one-on-one time. Too bad you didn't know you weren't alone.

Whenever Rusty was gone for weeks at a time, that part didn't bother you in the slightest, it paid the bills and was a necessary trade-off for affording all he could provide for you. You didn’t even think he would give up what he loved doing, and you’d never want him to, but what you hated the most was the loneliness.

You'd grown accustomed to having him around, so when that first time back on the job came around, you were slightly nervous, but living in his larger home was nice and much more peaceful than staying in your city apartment. It gave you things to do with a place so large, new things to discover about Rusty that he had displayed around the walls, but for such a larger place compared to your apartment, it was painfully quiet after a while of living there. Rusty wanted you to feel at home here since you decided to stay with him, so he tried his best to do what he could to bring more of you out within the confines of the walls. He offered to set up a room just for you if you wanted it, sort of like an office or a crafting area, and he'd arrange it to suit your needs. You spent time in there when he was away, fiddling around with whatever you had set up, and you just mostly liked to sit in there and read, but today you were feeling impatient, so you placed the book down and let out an irritable sigh.

You weren't upset with him, far from it, you were upset with yourself for being so codependent on this man. He brought out a side to you that you didn't know existed, and you were starting to feel that feeling in the pit of your stomach whenever you began to think of Rusty. It would lead from missing him and wondering what he was thinking, to wondering if he'd ever let you fuck him in his truck. You sure hoped he would at some point, you needed to ride him while he was in that seat of his–

“Oh god,” you grumbled and stood up from the chair, then you decided it was best to go and take a shower. Wash away your sinful thoughts, that's what you needed to do. You pulled yourself away from the room and weaved your way around to the shared room you had, then rummaged through the closet, your mind desperately trying to bury the thoughts you were having.

The trickling of water felt great as soon as it hit your body, your muscles relaxed under the warmth of it, so you cranked it up just a little more to get the temperature just a bit higher. A smile grew across your face as the water soaked your hair, ran down your back, and you stood there to allow yourself just a few moments to gather your thoughts. But as soon as you closed your eyes, his face was there. You could imagine him walking into the bathroom as soon as he heard the water start running, opening the door, and just leaning against the frame, because he’d know you heard him, so you’d peek out.

“What’re you up to, sugar?”

You’d scoff and look up at him as you peeked through the shower curtain meekly. “Taking a shower, why?”

“Just wonderin’ why you didn’t invite me in.”

Rusty was like that sometimes; he would want to be wherever you were, wanting to touch you in every place he possibly could reach. You weren’t opposed to it, you encouraged it even, but something about his gentle touch when he was in one of those moods always made you feel empty without him here. Your fingertips ghosted over your lips and slid down to your neck -his favorite spot to kiss you- as you stood beneath the running water still, smiling to yourself.

The impure thoughts that took over your mind were willing you to slide those fingers lower and lower, smiling as your eyes remained closed until you gently dipped them between your legs. Your vivid memory of the way his large, calloused hands handled you so well flooded back, and the way he curled those two fingers into that sweet spot made you buckle at the knees. Yours weren’t as good as his, but they’d get the job done. You let out a small moan, your breath hitched as you pictured Rusty pinning you against the cold tiles of the shower.

“Easy there, girl, you’re so eager. Gonna take my time with you.”

Just thinking about his deep voice as smooth as pouring a glass of whiskey, it tickled your brain in the right ways when he spoke you through everything he did. Most times he'd tease you, edging you to the point you were a shaking, sobbing mess. Other times, he would talk you through it and watch you as your face contorted from feeling pure bliss to feeling complete frustration.

“Please, Rusty, I wanna cum so bad,” you'd whine.

“Oh you will if I let'cha,” he'd respond smoothly, knowing you couldn't do much to change his mind.

Your head leaned back as the water sprayed down your chest, you couldn't help but grab your breast and squeeze it, playing gently with your hardened nipple. God, you needed him so badly, and you wondered when he'd be back home, back in your bed. You wanted to feel his mouth between your legs, feeling the way his facial hair rubbed against the inside of your thighs sent you into a frenzy every time, and he knew what to do to get you to cum on command.

You wished he was here to pick you up and place you in the bed, but you had to make due until he came back. With a sigh, you removed your fingers from yourself and washed them off, then stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around you. The sting of sadness set in a little as you shuffled to the large bed in the center of the master bedroom, seeing how painfully empty his side was. He was already gone for a couple of weeks, and it had been a while since you last called to check on him, so maybe you would do that to ease your loneliness. But you felt so pent up and needed to feel a release in one way or another, so maybe you'd call afterward.

As you crawled into the middle of your bed, you laid on your back and sprawled out, one leg lifted as you placed your fingers between your already slick folds, thinking of the large, rough man of your dreams. He would know how to take care of you, it's like he was easily attuned to your needs and what you preferred, and his fingers fit so well into your hole. You moaned out softly, your body moved as you rolled against your hand, wanting to feel his thick digits stretching you so well. The room was filled with your moans and wet sounds from between your legs, and you pulled those mental images to mind that made you want to descend into your orgasm, already so eager to feel the sweet relief so you could finally relax.

What you hadn't been paying attention to was the front door opening and closing.

Rusty had tried to call you twice, but your phone was still sitting in your office space beside the book you were reading, so you had no indication that Rusty was going to surprise you by coming back a little earlier than expected. He heard your moan from downstairs, his ears perked up and tuned into his surroundings. At first, he was a little worried by your lack of reaching out, but it seemed he'd caught you at the perfect time. He was missing you while he was away, and he already felt the growing excitement in his jeans. Slowly but surely, he made his way up the stairs, making sure he didn't tip you off just yet, and the sounds coming from you only sounded more enticing the closer he’d gotten.

He had finally got to the doorway and he peeked inside, watching as you lay there spread out on your shared bed, touching yourself as your eyes were squeezed shut. You were pumping your fingers in and out, curling into that sweet spot as you moaned out Rusty's name over and over, wishing he was there to take care of you. It was hard for him to keep watching and do nothing, he had to have you, he couldn't wait for much longer.

His large hand slowly pushed the door open as you continued, no sound came from the hinges which would have given away his position. Instead, he stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with one arm keeping him in place while the other slid into his front pocket. Damn, you looked good like this, he was always a watcher, but never to this degree.

“Well, damn, if I woulda known you were havin’ fun without me, I woulda came home sooner,” he said suddenly, his voice still low and deep.

Your eyes snapped open as you removed your fingers from yourself, the sudden shock of the fear of being caught electrified your nerves. But after the initial shock, you stared up at him and smiled with a hint of embarrassment.

“R-Rusty! You're home!” You wanted to run to him to greet him, but your soaked hand kept you from doing so. “You're back early.”

He stepped up toward the bed, his head cocked to the side as his hands managed to find his belt as he began to undo it. “Well, I wanted to surprise you, but it seems you surprised me first. What'chu doin’?”

Your face was most definitely red as you closed your legs, poorly hiding the fact that You were just touching yourself. “Uh, I was just… I was thinking of you all day, I was missing you… and I got caught up…” You confessed with a blush in your cheeks.

“Missin’ me that much means a lot to little ol’ me, sugar.” He stepped up to the edge of the bed and without missing a beat, he grabbed your legs and pulled you toward him, which caused you to yelp out a little in surprise, but you were now face to face with him. He smiled down at you beneath the brim of his aging trucker hat, his eyes bore deep into yours. “Havin’ all the fun without me, ain't you?”

“I wasn't having that much fun, I was wishing you were here with me,” you explained, staring up at the large man. “But… you're here now, and well, I haven't finished…”

“Oh, so you want me to help you with that, huh?” He asked with a smirk, his large hands still resting on your ankles. “And so what if I do help you?” He asked playfully. “What do I get out of this if you finish?”

You knew he wanted you just as bad as you needed him, and he wanted you to work for it now that he caught you in the act.

“Couldn't keep those pretty little fingers away, just had to get impatient, huh?” He chuckled as he lowered his body onto you, massive in size compared to you.

You bit your lip as you reached up for his neck, wanting to play with the hair that peeked out from beneath the hat. He stopped just above you, hovering enough that if you were to lean up, he would be just out of reach. “Rusty, kiss me, please?”

He just chuckled in response, that smile you fell for immediately peeking from beneath the hat. “Oh I don't think so, you gotta earn that, sweetheart.”

You were about to whine in protest, just wanting to dote on the man now that he was back, but you barely had time to recover when he lowered his mouth to your inner thigh, kissing it and biting at your sensitive flesh that was oh-so close to your heat. The gasp that escaped was loud and sharp, but you soon turned into a whining mess the more he teased you.

“Rustyyyyy~” You whined as you tugged at his hair, causing the hat to shift and fall off to the side of the bed. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it.”

“You mean you didn't mean to get caught, is that it?”

Your face was flushed at the realization that he was right, you meant to pleasure yourself but wanted to get it out of the way so you could hold off a while longer for him to get home.

“Been so greedy ever since you were fucked,” he huffed and lowered his mouth back onto your thigh. “Give you a taste and now you're fuckin’ cock hungry.”

His lips kissed your slick folds over and over, just missing the mark of paying attention to your throbbing clit, and you swallowed a pathetic whimper that died in your throat as soon as he plunged two of his fingers into you. You hissed at the feeling of those calloused digits, curling into you and causing your walls to flutter around him. Your back arched as you rolled your hips into his hand, feeling that sweet friction that hit you in just the right way, you wanted to cry with how much you've missed him.

“Oh my god, Rusty, please, keep going…” you sighed, your lead lolled off to the side as you removed the towel from your top half, and then you began to massage your breast as he kissed and touched you.

“You better not cum till I tell you to,” he warned in that deep honeyed voice. “Else you ain't gettin’ what you want.”

“I-I don't know if I can hold back–”

“Then you better learn real quick, sweetheart, you ain't gonna like the punishment you get if you don't.”

You loved when he urged you, spoke to you like he did, the gravelly voice he got with you was so sexy that you could have fun just listening to him talk. You shifted and couldn't help but continue to fuck yourself on his hand, whimpering as you were stretched so good with just his fingers. Rusty then slid his tongue around, coating it in your wetness as he continued to finger you, gently playing with your clit. He sucked at it, watching as you went from a whiney mess to a blubbering mess. You twitched and your body jolted, feeling that intense pleasure on your clit, getting the friction you so desperately craved.

“Oh, fuck, Rusty! Please!” you begged, your knees shaking as he held one of your legs up behind your knee.

You urged him to continue, so he obliged and removed his fingers, to which you cried at the loss of feeling him inside of you. But now those had been replaced with that broad tongue, lapping away at your essence, wanting to taste the sweetheart he so desired in his absence. You could feel his facial hair scratch and tickle at your thighs, the overwhelming feeling of his stubble, his tongue, and his large hand gripping at your leg so hard was a lot to handle while your orgasm was building.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck–” You were at a loss for words with how well you were being treated, you'd loved how he got you so sinfully wet.

Rusty smiled as he brought his lips up to your aching nub and began to swirl his tongue around it before he began to suck at it. You cried out and thrust your hips upward, pushing yourself further against his mouth as if you could get him any closer to you, all while your hands were clutching at the comforter beneath you.

You were so close to feeling a sweet release until his mouth harshly pulled away from you, leaving you feeling empty and aching. “Rusty, no! W-Why would you do that?”

“Told you you couldn't cum without my say so, and as much as I wanna taste you, I want you to cum while I'm inside you,” he explained, followed by a dark chuckle.

It didn't take him long to crawl back toward you, one hand guiding himself to push against your folds, his head pushing against your clit. You squirmed and rocked against him, trying to feel him slide against your lips, just wanting anything more than the emptiness you felt right now.

Your eyes closed, your brow furrowed, and you moaned every time he pushed against you just enough to feel just a little relief only to pull away again, and it was driving you insane. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared up at him with a look of pure frustration.

“Rusty, pleaseeeee,” you begged him again, but you regretted doing so as soon as he pulled away from you. “Wait, what are–”

He pushed himself up, then with a quick turn and an arm slung around your waist, you flew up against him, landing against his chest as he quickly positioned himself so you were straddling his lap as he sunk into the mattress.

“Told you, sweetheart, you're gonna work for it.”

Your lips suddenly felt dry as you could feel his hard cock twitch beneath you. He was giving you the chance to ride him, how could you refuse him this? Your hands hold onto his shoulders to gain some leverage as you move yourself a little higher, allowing yourself to line up perfectly with him. Slowly you sunk onto him, the girth of his cock stretched you so well, it made you let out such a low sigh as your entire body shivered with the feeling of how much you needed this.

“Oh my god, Rusty,” you groan out, your hands still placed on his shoulders. “Fuck, missed you so much while you were gone.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a wicked smirk, his hands gripped your waist as he pushed himself deeper inside of you until he bottomed out, and then those calloused fingers slid down to your thighs.

Your hands immediately reached up and snaked through his hair, grabbing and pulling at it as his hands held you by your ass, allowing you to bounce on his cock at your own speed, but he could easily change that in an instant if he decided to. You leaned forward, wanting to kiss him, but he leaned back a little and smiled, chuckling at the disapproval plastered across your face.

“Told you sugar, you gotta earn that. Need you to cum on me first, now start movin’,” he huffed as he leaned back against the pillow, watching you with interest as you began to bounce on him.

He helped a little, lifting you every so often to get you to fall harder into his lap, your skin slapping in a beautiful rhythm as you cried out his name over and over again, but your voice hitched when he slipped his hand between the both of you to rub his thumb against your clit. Your fingers clasped the back of his head and neck, your nails grazing his skin while he continued to gauge your reaction.

“Oh fuck, Rusty-” you gasp.

His thumb rubbed in increasingly tighter albeit sloppy circles, and that only caused the pleasant tingle between your legs to grow with a deeper intensity. Rusty then pressed the pad of his thumb harshly against your throbbing nub while he thrusted his hips upward at the same time, watching you as you were coming undone as he watched you intensely.

“Yeah, you’re doin’ a good job there, wonder if I should let you cum now…” He chuckled as he saw your eyes roll back once he jerked his hips upward, hitting that spot in such a delicious manner.

“Please, oh my god, PLEASE-”

“Please what, sweetheart?”

You shivered and bit your lip, wanting to stifle your moan so you could form a singular sentence. “Please, I wanna cum so bad. Please, let me cum…”

Rusty’s grip tightened as his smile widened. “Atta girl, love hearin’ you beg for it.” His hand pulled away from your possibly bruised hip as he reached up, his massive palm now wrapped around your throat as he pounded into you harder, faster, all while still stimulating your clit.

You cried out, your whines and moans drowned out by the blasphemous sounds that came from your slick-soaked pussy. He relished in the sounds you made, you knew he wanted you to be as vocal as you possibly could, even in public when he would make sure you knew who you belonged to. His hands released your throat and moved away from your clit, then slid around to rest on your ass, gripping your cheeks hard as he began to fuck himself into you. He’d give you the release you so desperately craved, and the release he needed to lose himself in being away from you for all that time.

“Rusty, I won’t be able to hold it...” you warned through gritted teeth, your hands resting firmly on his chest as you clawed your nails against his skin.

“Guess I could let you cum on me, then,” Rusty offered through his heaving breath, still smiling up at you.

Several more hard thrusts against your aching cunt and you were going to be ruined in his lap, you cried out while he continued to plow into you, making you take every inch you could of him as your body tensed and finally released that pleasure. You couldn’t even take the time to ride out your orgasm, Rusty was relentless and continued to take you at his unyielding pace, wanting to be able to cum deep inside of you. His thighs tensed with each roll of his hips, his body straining beneath you as your walls clenched around him.

Rusty wrapped his arms around your waist and buried himself to the hilt inside of you, coming hard as spurts of his hot seed coated your insides, his deep honeyed voice released a guttural growl as he gripped you hard. It throbbed as he held you in place, but you were too tired to move much anyway, so you allowed him to use you as he deemed fit as you lay limp in his arms.

You were both straining to catch your breath as you both lay there, your body now collapsed on top of him while his arms released the firm grip on your waist and just draped over you gently. Your head was resting on his shoulder as you attempted to catch your breath, and Rusty just lay there with his hand stroking your hair softly, rewarding you for your good behavior with the softness only you really got to see. He wouldn’t force you off after, he enjoyed the affection you showered him with during moments like these, so he allowed you to remain splayed on top of him.

“That was amazing…” You sighed happily, your eyes closed as you listened to his heart beating. You couldn’t find the heart to pull away from him, even if he’d been gone for a while, you just wanted to enjoy it with him, no matter how brief.

His arms wrapped around you as if to give you a hug that he hadn’t thought of giving you till that very moment, so you moved your head lazily to look up at him, your chin resting against his chest. “You still haven’t given me that kiss yet,” you huffed and pushed out your bottom lip.

Rusty just let out a low chuckle as he always did, but he pushed himself up and slid his hand around your neck, tangling in the sweat-soaked hairs as he pulled you into a heated kiss. When you pulled away, you smiled up at him and felt content with everything in the world now.

“Missed you, too, sugar. Next time you’re feelin’ lonely like that, I suggest you call me up.”

“And how will that help me exactly?”

Rusty just laughed again and slid his hand down to your ass, giving it a firm slap. “Oh, I’ll think of a way.”

#tinalbion writings #rusty nail #rusty nail joy ride #rusty nail x reader #rusty nail imagine #rusty nail headcanons #rusty nail x fem!reader #f!reader #slasher headcanons #slasher community #slasher imagines #slasher x reader #joy ride 2 dead ahead #tinas asks #comfort #smut

56 notes · View notes

adalwolfgang · 9 months

Note

Can you write about Sinclair brothers and Rusty nail's S/O is an artist but S/O's sketch book all only draw about them.

Thank you and I really really love your any creation or other thing else!! Really thank you and hope you have a wonderful day like you!!💜

Slashers coming across s/o's sketchbook

A/n: Thank you Nina, I love you too!! And again, Im so sorry for taking so long on your reqeust!

Warnings: Jonesy is the queen bee. Bite me. Not proofread.

Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner(s)

Beaugard (Bo) Sinclair

Bo didn't mean to stumble upon your many drawings.

He was up at the house, trying to tidy up a little (shocker I know) and happened to knock over a stack of books. One of them being your sketchbook. He kneels down, picking up the books but pauses once reaching for yours. After a few seconds of glancing around the room, he grabs it and starts skimming over the many pages.

As he flipped through its pages, he was taken aback by what he saw. Each page was filled with intricate and lifelike drawings of only him. His heart swelled with a mixture of surprise, and a touch of vulnerability. He had never imagined that anyone apart from his brother could make something so beautiful.

Bo's fingers gently traced the lines of his own face in awe, realizing just how deeply you had been observing him. His mind began to race before quickly being interrupted by the sound of the front door being opened. He smirked to himself, keeping his back turned from the door as he kept flipping the pages.

Jonesy came trotting into the room with the wag of her tail, tongue carelessly hanging out. You weren't far behind as she walked up to Bo, giving his leg a short sniff before carrying on toward the basement.

"What'cha doin'?" you quirked a brow as you quickly caught on to him seeming to be hyper focused on whatever it was he was reading. When he turned his body, your book coming into view, your pupils dilate at the realization and embarrassment.

"Ya've really captured my good looks darlin! I never took ya for an' arti-" before he could finish his next sentence, you ran up and tackled his ass to the ground in desperation to get the book back and out of his eyesight. This caused him to laugh as he kept holding the book farther away from the both of you on the ground. After a couple minutes of teasing, he hands your book back, adding one last cherry on top.

"I also seen that ya've been studyin' anatomy~" He immediately got an elbow to the ribs in response.

Lester Sinclair

Had to take a double take.

He was digging under his trucks seat, looking for a toy Jonesy had dropped. He grabs ahold of something, thinking it's the squeaky toy, he yanks his arm out only to raise a brow in confusion when seeing it's only a book. The kind of book people use to draw with. He looks over to Jonesy who was sitting in the passenger seat, waiting patiently for her toy to be returned to her.

"I'll git yer toy in a second, alrigh'? Let me jus' look at this real quick," he sits down in the truck, carefully opening the book. His eyes growing wide when he spots your initials signed into the first page. He looks up at the front door to the house, seeing as the coast was clear, he looks back down at the book, peeling back another page. The first page was just little doodles of Him, Jonesy, and you. He flips another page, this time met with much more detailed sketches. Them being of only him. His eyes stayed glue to the pages as he skims each page with great precision.

"What'cha reading?"

He jumps in his seat when you pop up beside his truck window. The book again falling to the floor. He clears his throat, trying to calm his breathing.

"Erm...Would'ja believe me if I said nothin'?"

You quirked a brow before leaning inside the window and looking at the book on the floor of the truck. A look of embarrassment washes over your face.

"You were looking at my drawings...Weren't you?"

After that, he apologizes profusely, ending with you quickly forgiving him but taking the book back inside with you, deciding it best to keep it somewhere else and not in his truck anymore. As he watched you walk but up the steps into the house, his thoughts were interrupted again. This time by Jonesy barking at him. He turns around to see her still pawing at the seat, wanting her toy.

"Oh shoot! Sorry girl!" he quickly goes back to the task he was doing before, reaching under the seat for the dog toy.

Vincent Sinclair

His face gets so hot from the discovery, he almost thought his body heat melted his mask.

You both were in the basement. He was at his desk, working on another mask mold he had recently got from Bo. You were sat on his bed with Jonesy laying her head on your lap asleep. Currently you were drawing another sketch of Vincent, this time sitting at his desk working on the mask mold. After a few hours, you were almost finished with your drawing. Jonesy had already woken up a few minutes' prior. You were putting on the finally details when she trotted back into the basement, carrying her dog bowl in her mouth. She placed it Infront of the bed, nuzzling it with her snout closer before sitting down and looking up at you. You stare between her and your almost completed sketch before letting out a small chuckle. You set down your book on the bed, picking up the bowl and walking toward the stairs.

"Ima go feed Jonesy, be right back Vinny"

He let out a Mmhh in acknowledgement. When you leave with the dog, he continues working. That doesn't last long though when his focus goes to the open book on his bed. He looks over to the stairs then back to the book. He sits there for a moment before deciding to stand up and walk over to the bed. He pulls the book toward him, looking over the page you were recently drawing on. He's beyond surprised. The talent and detail is admiring to say the least.

By the time you return to the basement with Jonesy, he had already seen every single drawing you had in that book. He had already gone back to his wax mold, trying to keep his focus on something else besides all the thoughts and images in his head from his discovery. His face was almost as warm as the boiler that was a few feet away. You didn't seem to notice though as you went back to your spot on the bed and get right back to sketching.

He ratted himself out later on.

Rusty Nail

Flattered and impressed as hell.

After not getting to see each other for what seemed like a month but was only a week, Rusty finally pulled up to yall's shared home. The only thing on his mind was finally getting to sleep in his own bed with his only and favorite person. Upon walking through the door, he was immediately tackled by your affections.

"Welcome home old man!"

He lets of a rumble of laughter, giving your head a quick peck while wrapping his arms around you to also return the affection.

"Someone missed me eh?"

As you both go to your shared room, Rusty plops down onto his side of the bed as you walked over to your side, grabbing a book off the nightstand.

"I know you're probably exhausted but I want to show you something since I don't have the patience anymore."

You walk back over to his side, taking a seat beside him as you open up the book for him to see. Inside it was sketches you've drawing over the past week of his absence. Even though he was tired, his eyes grew a little surprised as he skimmed over the drawings. It was like looking in a mirror. He traced his hand over some of them, a soft smile spreading gracing his lips.

"These look beautiful sweetheart" he looks up at you with a smile before leaning forward a pressing another kiss to your cheek.

Now every time he leaves for a long drive, he takes a drawing with him and keeps it on his person at all times.

#bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #house of wax x reader #sinclair brothers x reader #rusty nail x reader #rusty nail #rusty nail joyride #rusty nail joy ride 2 #joy ride 2 #joy ride 2 dead ahead #joy ride

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bisexual-horror-fan · 8 months

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"Not What I Planned." Rusty Nail X AFAB! Reader.

Well hello! It is the amazing and fantastic @eggsandbeer birthday so, so soon! But I am meeting Matt and Skeet tomorrow and my brain is gonna be all on Billy and Stu post that, so you get this now! This is my first time writing Rusty, I watched Joy Ride 2 six times while writing this. I love Riri, she is so fucking awesome and I adored doing this. She has a more personalized version but gave the go ahead to post a reader insert version for you all! So let's go!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 7.7K (I Know.) Rusty Nail X AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Customer Service Work. Asshole Customers. Murder Mentioned. Drinking. Making Out. Man Handling. Fingering. Masturbation. Blow Job. Cum Eating. Vaginal Sex. Riding. Taunting. Teasing. Dirty Talk. Praise. Pet Names.

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You hate your job, it is exhausting, mentally and physically, a total drain, but you do all you can to not let it get you down. You focus on the little things, good customer interactions, great coworkers and the times you are truly able to get away from your work. It isn’t like it’s what you wanted to do for the rest of your life anyway, far from it, in fact one of those vital lifelines that helps keep you sane is a local news internship, it gives you some good experience for what you hope to actually eventually do with your life along with giving you purpose.

Today is not good, though, off to a less than ideal start. This is decidedly not the way you wanted to spend your birthday. Rolling into the grocery store to do a closing shift, apron in your grip and bag over your shoulder, half-hearted waves to co-workers as you strolled through towards the area you could safely stow away your stuff until you are allowed to clock out. You do just that, drop your stuff in the usual place, get your uniform situated and punch in, ready for another day of God knows what bullshit.

Your mind was at least slightly occupied, where you work is en route to the Burning Man festival which meant that you were busy as fuck with people loading up on supplies before they arrive to their final destination, it kept you busy. As for what kept your brain whirring, your internship had tasked you with writing a piece on the crowd that is rolling through on their way, meaning you are watching and listening intently. It looks like you aren’t from the outside, hands stacking a fruit display, but ears open, all sorts of talk about events the Burners were amped up for, how much further they had to travel, what snacks were the best and would keep in the desert heat.

You did some actual work naturally, finding yourself crouched and cleaning out a stubborn drain, the process thoroughly annoying and honestly degrading, and not in the fun way you usually liked. It was your fucking birthday, for Christ’s sake, you should be indulging in the fun kind of calve burning, not the bent over and unclogging kind. Still, you try to stay in higher spirits and certainly not show it outwardly, if someone squinted hard enough, they might be able to pick up on it.

Later on, you had just finished making a new display, standing back and looking at the gorgeous display of apples you’d spent longer than you cared to mention on, hands on your hips. The first genuine smile that had graced your face since clocking in and wasn’t tinged with a single hint of perfectly practised customer service fakeness. This is one of those moments you felt genuine pride in your work, a glimmer of nicety in all the bullshit.

It lasted for two whole seconds.

A customer’s cart hits you in the hip and wrist simultaneously because of how you were standing, the action both painful and shocking, completely unexpected. It makes you step to the side, grip your wrist with your other hand, the pain is throbbing and dull, it isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever experienced, but it still sucks and should have never happened in the first place. The customer doesn’t apologize. Worse still, they stride forward, pick a single apple from the middle of the display, causing half of it to tumble over. The customer scoffs with a roll of their eyes, they drop the apple into their cart to look around, seeming to notice you just now for the first time, only then acknowledging you. They give a pointed look from you to over their shoulder, a motion of their head as they criticized your work, “Not very sturdy.”

Your mouth falls open, and they tut as they walk away, leaving you dumbfounded with fifteen some odd apples scattered on the ground that you had to clean up and a display you had to rebuild.

Later still, you are sweeping, trying to get these damn onion skins up, but they aren’t moving. You are half focused, conversing with one of the Burners, they are asking for your opinion on what kombucha is best, and you are humouring them and getting a few questions answered along the way.

Throughout all the regular work crap, you’d been having small conversations with people, writing brief notes for your project, and it was nice getting some serious stuff down about it, served as a half decent distraction too.

His initial thought is that it was reminiscent of a zoo, upon greater thought while attempting to park the Peterbilt he decided swiftly that it was worse than that, a fucking circus. He manages to park and decides that getting in and out as fast as possible would be vital to maintaining his sanity. He was aware that Burning man was happening, naturally, but still the place was crowded as all Hell, more than he had been anticipating. Rusty didn’t like large crowds of people, but he needs some supplies, he needs to eat.

It isn’t any better inside.

He is making his way around, hat pulled low, basket in his grip, grabbing a few drinks, some favoured snacks that he knew kept well, he was passing by the produce, almost ready to get the fuck out. He goes into your department, he is grabbing bananas and thinking about getting some of those pre-cut carrot and celery sticks. Rusty is trying to be a tad more health minded, not like it would do much with how much he enjoys a good smoke but better to do something than nothing he supposed.

His train of thought is broken when he hears a loud exclamation of, “I can’t believe how fucking stupid you are!”

Rusty’s head turns, he catches sight of you, standing there, trying to look apologetic as some older lady is verbally ripping into you, “I’m making lemon chicken LEEK stroganoff, right?”

She is looking at you expectantly, your eyes wide, and with that half customer service forced smile you nod and say through gritted teeth, “Right.”

“So tell me, how. Am I. Supposed. To make. Lemon, chicken LEEK stroganoff without LEEKS?” The way she said it was infuriating, the halting, pausing way of it, so condensing, as if you were the cross between an idiot and a child all rolled into one.

“I don’t know, ma’am. I guess you can’t. I’m very sorry.” You admit it reluctantly, knowing she won’t like your response, and she does not. She goes off on you, “Well I’ve had this menu planned for WEEKS, I have company coming tonight! You have to make this right!”

Rusty was listening in, brow pinching, this woman was off her rocker, what a complete bitch. You were trying to calm her, smooth over the situation, and she was being worse and worse to you. No matter what you say, she wouldn’t stop freaking out.

“I really am very sorry. I could call another store nearby and ask if they have any leeks?” You offer up, and she scoffed with a laugh, “So I can make ANOTHER stop? Do you not remember? I am hosting a dinner party tonight, I’m busy! I have other places to go, I can’t be here fighting with you over this all night!”

And yet she was still here, doing just that.

He had turned, wasn’t watching quite as subtly as he was previous. You were doing your best and none of it was measuring up to this crazy, impossible standard that was being set out. He was looking at you, and he could see that you were taking it hard, your customer service face and voice were holding strong, but your eyes? They looked so sad.

You reminded him of a kicked puppy, as the woman finally had enough of being a raging cunt and stormed off. Right after that, someone else in uniform walked by, a manager? And on their way, they said, “Happy birthday.”

You gave a small, “Thanks.” along with half a wave as they strode past. You were not only working on, but getting treated like that, on your birthday?

It got to him, hit him square in the chest, shot to the heart. A sigh and he looks over, he makes a note of the asshole who mistreated you so, he has a little time before they check out before he can go dispose of them in the parking lot for being so unreasonable and rude to you. It might be too far for some people but not for him, people like that, there is no changing them, not at her age, some people don’t deserve to live.

First things, first though, he saunters over to you, a small clearing of his throat before he asks, “Got a date tonight, there a drink you’d recommend?”

You turn towards the low and smooth voice, you have to turn your head up to look at him properly, he was taller than you. The way he was standing, the angle, and how he wore his hat you couldn’t see his face, brim pulled too low, standing a few feet away.

A small inhale and your smile turned more genuine before you reply, “Oh, our Pink Champagne is my favourite. I get that on special occasions.”

Well, how fucking perfect a find were you? Kind, respectful, hardworking, and you have good taste.

“Thank you.” He said it easily with a wave of his hand in acknowledgement and broke away. You watch him go and think to yourself that he is cute, in that particular way that strikes you when an older guy catches your eye just so. The interaction doesn’t stick with you however, you turned and saw more fucking onion skins that needed sweeping up.

Hours later, you finally get off of work, messed up apron in one hand and looking forward to getting the hell home. You had two days off ahead, you were intent on a bath and partaking in some drinks in your fridge with a good record on when you get home. You are walking through the dark and now very empty parking lot, your mind only focused on reaching your car, sliding behind the wheel and getting home as soon as possible, when you hear a voice calling out. Your car keys are in one hand, the keys between your fingers, sticking out and ready to punch a would be attacking if you need to.

Hearing the voice makes you put your head on a swivel, initially scared, you look and then see it is that older gentlemen you helped out earlier. You pause, and he comes a little closer, again in the dark and with that hat you can’t make out much except for the orange glow of the end of his cigarette, partially illuminating the lower half of his face. He calls out your name, following it with a question of, "-right?”

“Hi, yeah it is.” You were still sightly on edge until he is holding up the very same bottle you suggested earlier, “Wanted to say thank you for your recommendation, properly.”

Your brows raise up, you saw him in the store hours ago, meaning he should in theory be long gone, and you ask, “I thought you had a date?”

“I do. I was just waitin’ for her to get off work.” Even though you couldn’t see it fully, you could hear the smile in his tone, and it makes one spread to your own face. “Oh, my apologies, I didn’t realize that was you asking me out.”

The tone you said it in was very light, and he seemed equally amused, “Sorry bout that, terrible manners on my part, truly.”

There is a beat of silence, and you say, “I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you.”

“So you’d be willing to join me?” He asks, you nod, you felt endeared to him very quickly, the confidence he displayed, the boldness, you were charmed and figured why not? You had the time tonight, nothing wrong with enjoying a birthday drink bought by a courteous man.

“Where are we going to go?” You ask, and he gestured over to the large shiny black Piterbilt towards the back of the lot. “Was thinking my truck, if that’s alright with you?”

When he asks in that delicious tone of voice, you think that yes, it is very alright with you. “Lead the way.” You prompt, and he does, you fall into step beside him, apron is thrown over your shoulder, and you asked, “So you’re a truck driver?”

“How’d you ever guess?” He asked on an exhalation of his cigarette with a glance over to you. Now you can catch the half smirk on his face, unable to make out his eyes completely, but it didn’t bother you, honestly you kind of dug the mysterious kind of thing, not even fully knowing what he looked like. If anything that communicated how into him, you were, hadn’t even seen his whole face but his voice and how he carried himself was more than enough to convince you to this odd kind of unexpected date.

“I’m real intuitive. Call it a gift.” You mused, and he liked you, even in how you joked, there was no real meanness to it, could tell that it was all in fun and that inherent niceness shone through. “Giving me gifts when it’s your birthday? Isn’t that what M’ supposed to be doing?”

That gives you some slight pause, how in the fuck did he know that it was your birthday? Before any serious question could be made, you were next to his truck on the passenger side. You look it over and say honestly, “Nice truck.”

“Thanks, do my best to take real good care of it, s’ seen some rough times.” You look a little closer, scrutinizing, if it had, you couldn’t tell, the thing looked clean and not a scratch on it. You turn and lean against it, you realize he had gotten some cups that were also sold at your work, he holds them out, “Mind holding these while I open this?”

You nod and take them out of his outstretched hand and watch as the last remainder of his cigarette was dropped and ground under the heel of his boot. He uncorks the bottle with ease, doesn’t spill any or cause it to overflow, which mildly impresses, you hold out the cups and he fills them. The bottle is set aside on the ground and after passing him his cup he asked “Any words to share?”

“Here’s to the weekend?” You offered up after a moment’s thought, and he said, “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks yours and his cups together, and you take a sip of the sweet and familiar fizzy alcoholic drink.

“Seriously the shift I had today was rough, so this is really nice, thank you-” Then you realize you don’t know his name, he clearly picks up on this and says, “Name’s Rusty. Rusty Nail.”

Immediately you figure it must be his CB handle, you wonder if Rusty is his real name, but also you don’t think it matters much, you don’t press, “Well thank you, Rusty, really.”

“S’ my pleasure. Heard how that woman was going off on you earlier, some people can be so rude.” Is that what prompted this? The total bitch who was freaking over leeks? If so, you think that maybe her being such a raging cunt wasn’t such a bad thing if it led to this.

Little did you know that Rusty had taken care of her, she was currently stuffed in the trunk of her own car, way, way on the other side of the lot, body long since gone cold.

The conversation then turned to you both complaining about a shared distaste for rude and unreasonable people, he let you vent about your day and previous horrible customers at your job. As the conversation went on, you find yourself enjoying his company more and more. You also find yourself standing closer to him, half the bottle gone, he’s had another smoke, and you are leaning on him much more than the truck, he doesn’t mind, you sigh to him, “I cannot believe the crap you have to put up with, it’s so unfair!”

“Some people have some really unsavoury and outdated views on people in my line of work.” He admits with a nod, and from what he’d shared it seemed like. There are people who say the meanest shit, make horrible assumptions, treat him like dirt or worse, a feeling you know all too well at your own job. You relate to Rusty.

You’d been talking for an hour, and it was even later, darker, and a shiver unexpectedly ran up your spine, “You cold?”

You were a little, you were in a t-shirt and after standing in one spot for so long this late the chill had somehow set in. “Yeah, surprisingly I am a bit.”

Then he made an interesting offer. “You want to get in my truck, warm up?”

You think you really did want that. “Yeah, that’d be great, actually.”

He moved back then and so did you, he opened the door for you, and you looked up, Christ it was big, how were you supposed to get in while in your slightly buzzed state without looking like a total clown? You feel him against your back, he asks, “Need some help?”

You nod, unsure of what he means or how he is going to help but trusting him all the same, it’s then that you feel his hands on you. He turns you, and then those same hands find your waist with ease and grip. He lifts you like you weigh nothing, and you realize to him, you probably do, as he helps hoist you into the passenger side of the truck. Rusty sits you on your ass in the seat and your face feels much hotter, he just scooped you up and set you down so fast, one simple and fluid motion as he stepped one foot up on the running board, and then there you were. You are side-saddle, legs dangling down and far off of the ground. His hands leave you quicker than you’d like, sliding off your waist and stepping back down. You are a bit dazed, his hand touches your ankle, and you jump, he laughs at your surprised, “What?”

“You wanna get your legs in, so I can close the door?” You nod and do so, swinging your legs in, and he shuts the door. Your hand, that had been clutching your bag and apron, dropped them on the floor by your feet. You look down into your cup, you hadn’t spilled any even when he picked you up, the cup is raised, you tip it back and swallow down the remainder. A sigh and you pull the cup back, hand still clutching it, comes to rest on your thigh as your thumb on your opposite hand swipes a stray drop from the corner of your mouth. He had come around to the other side, he has the door open and is sliding in beside you into the driver's seat, he’d picked up the bottle on the way, and you were contemplating asking for more.

As if reading your mind he gestures for your cup, you lean over, holding it out, and he pours you some more, you asked him, “So before, you were talking about all the bad stuff about truck driving, but what about the stuff you do like?”

The question seems to surprise him if his tone is any indication, “The stuff I do like?”

He has pulled the bottle back, he isn’t pouring more for himself, you respond to his question with another of your own, “Yeah, what makes the job worth it? Other than the money.”

Rusty considers the question for a moment before he says, “I like seein’ the country, like being by myself most of the time but most of all? Probably seems obvious, but the freedom of it.”

You nodded, it made sense and asked, “Can go anywhere, do anything?”

“S’actly.”

The silence is as surprisingly comfortable as the passenger seat of this truck is. The thought hits, and you say it without thinking, “I dunno how you do it.”

“What? Truck drivin’?” He asks, and you say with a turn to him, “Yeah! Like, the actual driving it.”

He laughs, and you press on, one hand holding your cup and the other making like you are gripping a steering wheel that was comically large, pretending to turn it, “Seriously! This thing is massive, it’s a beast! How can you control it?”

“Ain’t that hard really, just gotta be the right mix of careful and confident.” He assures, and you laugh, “You make it sound so easy, I’ve never driven anything this big, that-” You point out the window to your much less impressive ride, “-is my car over there.”

“Yeah, don’t quite measure up, does it?” He teases and you grin, “Nope. But I don’t think I could drive anything like this.”

“I think you could.” A small pause before he asks the big question, “Wanna try?”

You nearly choke on your sip and pull the cup back, wiping at your mouth, “What? Me? Drive the behemoth? You want to write it off that bad, Rusty?”

“You cannot be that bad a driver.” He scoffs.

“Rusty, you barely know me, I dunno-” He insists, “C’mon, I’ll help.”

“Help?”

You were curious enough to allow it to happen, you’d not counted on his idea of help being putting you in his lap. He’d moved the seat back enough and encouraged you to climb on, emboldened by both the drink and his encouragement, you slide on into the space he made. He moves the seat forward enough to do the pedals, and he places your hands on the wheel, his hands covering yours. “You sure this is a good idea?”

Nerves were setting in, you’d been drinking, not a lot but also all the close contact with him was getting to you, his attractiveness was apparent during your brief meeting earlier but now that you'd’ been getting to know him? He was becoming even more appealing, being sat in his lap, your back to his chest, his hands on yours, you felt flustered. Sounded by him in both touch and scent, it could be enough to make your head swim if you let it. In your current position, his voice is over your shoulder, “Positive. You’ll be fine.”

The tone of voice he says it in, the conviction, he makes you believe it.

One of his hands leaves yours briefly to start her up, the truck rumbles to life, and it makes you jump slightly, Christ it was loud and is vibrating like all Hell. “We’ll just do a lil’ loop, alright? M’ doing the pedals, you just steer her real easy.”

He had to speak louder to be heard over the hum of the truck, and you pitch your own volume up to be heard, “Yeah, real easy, can do.”

His foot comes down slowly, and he eases it forward, you grip the wheel tightly and let him lead. He talks you through the process, and it helps, you focus your eyes forward and your ears on listening to his smooth voice praising you, “Uh-huh, around the pole, use it as a guide.” You swallowed and nodded, brows knit together as he keeps talking, “Oh good job, see? You’re doing it.”

His hands squeeze yours reassuringly, your mouth feels dry, you nod and say quieter than you should, “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, you’re doing most of the work.” You feel that isn’t truthful but again, he talks, you believe.

“Almost all the way around, a little further-” Both his hands leave yours, sliding down your arms and choosing to come to rest on your waist again, letting you fully be in control. It makes you tense, rushing out, “Rusty, wait-”

Another flex of his hands, another show of comfort, he says easily, drawling out, “Calm down, you’re doing it all yourself.”

You aren’t fully convinced until you’ve made the full loop, and he lets off the gas, he turns off the car and your shoulders slump, what he says next, makes you melt, “I told you. You’re perfect.”

That does something, makes a particular part of you break, or is it wake up? Either way, a certain section of you, somewhere aside, comes alive, and instead of wanting to run from it, you chose to grab onto the live wire of sensation with both hands. The truck has stopped, but you keep moving, the urge overcomes, and you turn in your seat and in his lap, one hand comes up, meets his cheek, feeling the rough stubble. He’d already gotten you the champagne, but you think you want more still, and you ask, “Can I be selfish?”

“S’ your birthday, be as selfish as you want to.” You take that is more than enough of an invitation. You lean up and in, push the brim of his hat up enough to give yourself the appropriate access, and you kiss him.

He had a feeling it was going this way, but thinking and experiencing are two different things. You choosing to take the lead was better than he could have been hoping for, though. Your mouth was so fucking soft, you felt warm, he tried to take it easy, but this is the kind of thing he can’t help getting swept up in. Chances like this don’t come around often, the urge to rush is present, he manages to ignore it, preferring to savour it, or rather, savour you. He lets himself relax further into the seat, returning your affection immediately.

The scratch of his facial hair against your skin feels better than you’d hoped it would, you let out a soft exhale, a sound on the precipice of a moan while still falling just short. His hands are still on your waist, he nudges you closer, you lean in more, your head tilts, his lips part, and he tastes more like cigarettes than he does the champagne, but it’s there. Your tongue makes the first exploration and sticky sweet fruit is unearthed from below smoke and ash.

One of his hands slides down, a brief pass over your thigh, and you wonder where it’s going, you realize in short order when the seat you are both on moves back, giving you more space, making it, so you aren’t quite as locked up against the steering wheel. Heat is sparking inside, your hand moves from his face, slipping to rest on his neck, your other hand comes up to his shoulder, fingers grip the jacket he has on and the want becomes too much. You grind down on him.

The shifting and adjusting allows you to feel how hard he was growing, a harsher inhale, and you begin to scramble, you want more contact, you move to be fully straddling him, no more twisting partially around like you currently were. You are seated just right soon enough, ass firmly planted, and you think fleetingly God he had some solid thighs, strong, you felt very well-supported.

The making out was only paused briefly while you changed position, you’d gotten right back into it, your mouth slotting back against his with a hum that sounded like his name. You grind again and this time he returns it, rutting up into you, and the friction makes you actually moan this time. The taste, the feeling, and two minutes more of making out is all it takes for you to break, pulling back once his touch had gotten bolder, one having slid up your body, palming one of your tits through your work shirt easily with how large his hands were. You arch into him, breaking the kiss you beg, “Fuck, Rusty, more.”

You are close enough now that you can see his smile as opposed to just hear it, his hand moves and starts to go under your shirt, rough fingers on bare skin and steadily moving up, brushing the edge of your bra. Not quite a laugh but more than an amused releasing of air, he asks, “More?”

A frantic nod, another squirm of your hips and he asks, “How much more? C’mon, tell me.”

He wants you to say it and you want it desperately enough that it’s no issue, far from it, if anything him making you say it, makes you want it more, makes you feel hotter. “Fuck me?”

“I like your directness.” Thank God for that. “Just have a lil more patience with me, alright?”

When he asks in that tone, you think you’d do just about anything. A small nod and he needs to get his fill of you just a hair more. Hands explore, groping, feeling, it teases both of you, trying to get a sense of your body before the clothes come off, mind running over just how you’ll feel with nothing in the way. You remain good, you let him feel, minimal squirming on your part, even when he starts kissing your neck as the hand that isn’t up your shirt kneads your ass. Only when you feel your underwear literally plastered to you and your cunt ache incessantly do you whine his name again.

He mercifully acquiesces, “Okay, okay, I hear you.”

He eases up, a gesture of his head for you to move to the passenger's seat, “Gonna need you out of those clothes for what you really want.”

You rush to comply. Once in the passenger's seat, sitting sideways, still facing him, looking at him, your hands catch the bottom hem of your shirt and as if anticipating that you intended to frantically tear it off, he stops you. One hand out and that sweet but firm tone, commanding, "Do it slowly."

Your face feels hot, and you do as instructed, slowing your movements right down, pulling the shirt up, exposing your stomach and then your bra. Higher and higher until you have taken it off, tossing it in the direction of your bag and apron. Next you have your thumbs hooked in the waist of your pants, arching your hips you start to slide them down, you watch him, try to gauge his reaction, but it’s hard in the low lighting. He gives a nod to show he’s pleased so far, encouraging you verbally too, “Go on.”

Shoes removed, pants follow, soon you are in just your underwear, and he speaks, a small gesture of your body, up and down, “S’ a good start but keep going.”

You reach behind yourself, start to unhook your bra, and he is still talking, “Dying to see the rest.”

You swear you can feel his eyes raking over every exposed inch of your skin. A small thought strikes, you follow it, slipping your arms out of the straps but holding the cups to your chest, an indulgent smile, a rise of your eyebrows, and he clicks his tongue, you play dumb and ask, “What?”

“You’re being a tease.” He states, and you ask in a tone of mock innocence, “Am I?”

He says more seriously. “Drop it.”

Unsure if he means your bra or the act, you chose to abandon both. You let the padded fabric slip out of your hands, a spread of your legs, you wonder if he can tell how wet you are from here. He moves too now, you weren’t expecting it, he falls to his knees in the space between your seat and his. Hands come to your hips and the sudden contact makes you jerk with a sharp inhale. His mouth catches yours in another kiss, you return it and moan, his mouth doesn’t stay on yours for long, trails down, jaw and neck, one on your shoulder and lower.

He is confident, he’s taking what he wants and you more than let him, you enjoy every rough scrape of his well worked hands, pass of his lips and nip of his teeth. His warm breath fanning over your chest is welcome, one hand has moved again, over your hip and now on your inner thigh, his thumb is close enough, and he runs it up you, swipes up your clothed slit. You sigh, eyes falling closed, relishing the contact, you are sure now he can feel how wet you are. He runs it back down and then up again, a press just right, and you moan between the friction on your clit and his mouth now on your chest.

He found it so easily and judging by the smile you can feel against the curve of your breast, he is just as pleased. Rusty abandons the current pleasant task, fingers hooking in your underwear, “I got a feelin’ it’d be a fight to get these off you too, an’ I just can’t wait.”

You couldn’t either, not anymore.

Assisting with a move of your ass up, he gets them off, and now you are naked in his semi-truck. You want to jump him, but he is holding you down by your thighs, taking in the view of you unobstructed, totally bare. “Fucking gorgeous.”

A hand reaches out, catches his jacket, and you tug as you tell him, “I feel really exposed right now, you wanna lose some of these?”

“S’ only fair.” He agrees, he removes his jacket and asks, “Wanna give me a little show while I fix myself?”

It is a request, but you take it like it’s an order. Hand between your spread legs, fingers trace up, catching ample wetness and spreading it up, circling sensitive tissue, making your thighs tense and a small moan fall from your lips. “There you go.”

The praise helps, you increase the pressure, and he hums in approval. Shirt is gone, belt is opened more and more revealed until he is in a similar state of undress. The view of him stripping all for you is insanely helpful. Pleasure is filling you easily and once he is ready he asks, “You mind if I-?”

“However you want me, please.” It leaves you needy and breathless. He steps in, he moves your hands away from yourself, and starts to adjust you to his liking. You like it, you think he can be rougher honestly, you are put on your knees, facing the passenger window, a hand on your back, adjusting you more, hips tilted up, and you feel him against you. The bump of his shaft between your thighs and over your clit is already very good. “Ready, yeah?”

A shaky nod, “Please Rusty-”

The one word and his name is all you are able to get out before he is lining up just right, you hold your breath in anticipation, he spits into his own hand, strokes himself, the extra lube as courtesy is appreciated. He slides in, and you let out a gasp, he doesn’t do it easily, taking you in one firm stroke, hand on your hips as his come to rest against your ass. He revels in you, the tight, soaked heat of you, his head tips back slightly as he soaks it before he starts to move. Pulling out halfway before driving forward, your hands scrabble for the window’s edge, you hold onto it like a lifeline as you gear up for what is already promising to be the ride of a lifetime.

His thrusting is firm, just like him, steady and sure, a good and even pace. It leaves breathless, not caring about being overheard, not like anyone could in the empty parking lot. A heavy breath from him, “Fucks sake, you’re soaked.”

You were moaning, incoherent pleas, along with his name, you were more than warmed up, each drag of his thick shaft in and out increasing the feeling. Fingers dig into the meat of your hips, he pulls you back as he drives forward, and you move too, rocking backwards to meet him. “Tight as Hell, can barely fit myself in here.”

“Keep talking, never, ever stop talking.” Is the one thought in your brain as you moan dumbly. You aren’t thinking much, unable, but you are feeling. Rusty was so kind to you, was totally turning your birthday around, making you feel incredible, spoiling you, and you want to do the same. His hands are roaming and that won’t do, you need to stop him before you are fucked into total submission and wrecked. Another minute, just another minute, you tell yourself, eyes are half open and brain hazy. The glass is so fogged up you can’t see out of it, could write your name but if he asked you doubted your hands would be steady enough. Could you even spell your name right now with what he was doing to you?

Finally, you reach back, hands on his hips, “Ru-Rusty, please, stop-”

“Something the matter?” He asked, holding deep, all the way to the hilt inside you. His hands smooth up your sides, fingers trace the curves of your chest before coming back down again, and you shiver, clenching on his shaft.

“Gotta, fuck, do something. Pull out?” He listens, he does so, “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

The pet names, fucking Christ the pet names, you are forcing yourself to move. It happens quickly. You turn, and then you push him, so his back is against the seat of the driver's side. He takes the hint, sits up on the seat sideways, and then you are the one on your knees. Between his spread thighs, you lean down, a hand locks around the base of his shaft and you lick. He lets out a surprised groan, soft and sounding too good. You start to blow him in earnest, careful of your gag reflex as you work. Your hand slips up and down his slick shaft as you suck on the head, his hand comes down to your head, fingers twist in your hair, “Like tasting yourself?”

A nod as you moan against him, tongue swirls around the tip, and he watches enraptured, his hips buck slightly, and you gag almost immediately. He inhales through his teeth, “Sorry there.”

You brush him off, a gesture that it is fine, as you redouble your efforts. He seems to be enjoying it immensely, he is encouraging you further but soon asks, “Can you handle some more?”

For him, you want to try. You nod, and he guides you, does it slowly and easily, “Breathe through it-”

You do and the pace, his voice, it somehow works, and you’re able to take him deeper, “Pretty birthday girl. Takin’ it so well.”

All you wanted to do was please him, you continue the work for only a minute more, however because then he tells you, “I want you back up here.”

You jump at the chance. Same as before, you climb up him and straddle him, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see where this is going. “You didn’t have to do that.” He comments, and you have your hands on his biceps, currently sucking a hickey into his neck and teasing your dripping hole with the tip of his dick, “I know. I wanted to.”

“Could tell you were into it. You always wanna taste yourself like that?”

“Not always but it is-” You move your hips down, start to slide him inside with a moan, once he is buried inside of you again you finish the thought, “-a favourite.”

“Dirty girl.” He coos it like a compliment, and it hits you just like one, too. You start to ride, his hands on you help along with upward rocks of his hips. You bite and suck along his throat in between broken moans, the salt of his skin is a tad too addicting, as is the stretch of him inside and the way he brushes all the right spots inside of you at this angle.

Apparently it still isn’t good enough for him.

He tugs you closer, presses you so that way your clit is getting friction and ground with every thrust and bounce, your moans increase in volume in pitch along with the sensation. You had no clue this is how your day would shake out, if you did, maybe your shift would have been more bearable.

His hands are on your back, holding you close, fucking up into you as you are slamming down, and on a particularly good hit you are gasping. For two people fucking for the first time and relative strangers, you’d found a frighteningly good rhythm. Your body is moving on instinct, just chasing what feels good but still, thoughtlessly tinged with doing your best to please him, thankful for the moment that what seems to be getting him off is feeling incredible for you. It isn’t quite enough, though, and he seems to pick up on that.

“Lean back.” His voice snaps you out of your pleasure induced stupor, and you nod, separating yourself from him, the one point of contact still remaining your ass on his thighs and him stuffed deep inside. He directs you further, his hands help, and you find yourself with one hand on his knee, the other braced on the roof of the truck, feet on the seat on either side of him and with a confident nod you start moving again.

It’s good, you are able to hit spots inside yourself that are even deeper, using all your leg muscles as well as your hands it becomes more of a full body effort, minute adjustments can be made so too much strain is never on one part of your sweat slick frame. Soon as you are just right in the groove of it, he surprises you, why he wanted the change in position becomes all too clear. His hand is between your bodies and his thumb presses down, swirling over your clit, and it makes your pace falter, “Oh my fucking God-”

“Don’t stop now.” The way he says it makes a shiver run up your spine and again makes you clench down on him. He says it in the dominant tone of voice, but it’s light, that smug fucking half grin on his face, unable to tear his eyes away from your body. You shake your head, choking out, “Wo-won’t stop.”

“No, course you won’t, you’re so good at listening.” The praise washes over you with another sharp jolt of ecstasy. His hand that wasn’t working your nerves into a frenzy was on your thigh, sliding up, gripping your hip, “This workin’ for you?”

Fuck, was it ever. You nod frantically, focusing on breathing and not stopping riding him, but in short order, your movements were getting increasingly sloppy. It was like he didn’t have to ask, didn’t rush it, just let you work it out and helped carry you along. You were getting dangerously close, the edge creeping up at a blinding pace, everything you’d experienced so far this night was piling up and threatening to make you break apart at the seams. There were no real words, just hurried breathing and pitched moans, head back, nails digging into the fabric of the truck cab’s roof, the sound of skin on skin and his encouragement.

A soft call of your name, his hips moving up, grinding into you as his hand works and him asking in a mind meltingly hot tone, “I wanna see it, give it to me.”

And something about that, whether it is what he said or how he said it, causes the reaction inside to finally make it happen, like it clicks into place just right, and you go from a weak and barely audible strained whisper of, “I’m almost there!” To holy fucking shit, I’m, “-cumming!”

Riding as much became not an option, legs almost giving out, but he takes over, grip on your hip is bruising, hip strength impressive, and he drives up into you over and over. Your hand isn’t able to stay on the roof, caught midair, body tense as your climax rockets through your body, you think your hand on his knee might be drawing blood with your nails, but you can’t stop it nor can you care.

You jerk as it peaks, and he slips out, his fingers don’t stop until you are crying out and pushing him away, still trembling through the aftershocks. Your eyes were closed, you were panting and not even remotely down from his high when you feel the hot splatter on your tits and stomach with your name staining his tongue. Peaking back open, you see him, hand around himself, and he’d cum all over your torso. The pretty pearly white is sliding down, and his own breathing is very laboured. Your hand trails down, still shaky, skating through the mess he left, and then you're bringing those same fingers back up to taste him.

Your body relaxes against him, you get into a more comfortable position, and after you stop shuddering so much you are telling him, “That was pretty fucking great.”

“Oh, are you all done?” He asked as he looks up at you, hands are resting lazily on your thighs, tracing patterns absentmindedly. “I mean I thought we were but are we not?”

“We don’t gotta be. I’m in no rush.” The thought of that is extremely pleasant.

“Another drink till you’re ready to go again, old man?” You asked with a smile, and he laughs as he reaches over to where the bottle was left on the floor of his side of the truck. Thankfully it hadn’t been knocked over, “You get that one and only cuz you were so good.”

“Only one old man joke or one joke overall? Because I was gonna make one hoping that you aren’t passingly along tetanus to me Rusty, but if you’re planning to be a buzzkill-” He shuts you up with a hand on the back of your neck and a kiss that you end up humming into. Yeah, you think this has been a pretty solid birthday.

#Rusty Nail x reader #slasher x reader #BHF writing #HAPPY BIRTHDAY RIRI #MWAH #LOVE YA #ENJOY

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