#Rusty Nail x reader

[whimsyvixen]

Hi! I just read your Rusty Nail fic, and I was wondering if you have SFW and/or NSFW head cannons for him? I love your writing and hope you're doing well :)

A/N: ~I'd like to apologize for waiting two years to answer this ask 😭. I've been watching slasher movies again and my motivation was brought back so I decided to have fun with writing this! Once again, I'm very sorry for the late reply but I hope you and every one else enjoys this! 🫶~

~

NSFW Alphabet | Rusty Nail | Joy Ride

Pairing: Rusty Nail x Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Synopsis/Excerpt: He also loves how easily you bruise, a smug grin forming in his face when he sees his marks of ownership scattered all over you.

Tags/Warnings: explicit content, dubcon/non-con themes, unprotected sex, choking, creampies, brief mention of captivity/kidnapping, overstimulation, large cock, vaginal sex, Rusty being sweet and a monster at the same time.

Minors do not interact

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He's very affectionate, peppering kisses along your flushed face and caressing the dips and curves of your body as you're fighting to catch a breath after his vigorous fucking love making.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His hands are his favorite instrument, large enough to wrap around your throat and squeeze until his veins protrude from the force. He loves every dip and curve of your body, not knowing where to start because of how obsessed he is with your fragility and softness. He also loves how easily you bruise, a smug grin forming in his face when he sees his marks of ownership scattered all over you.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He's a big man with an equally big set of balls and dick. When he cums, it's in copious amounts and he always makes sure to come inside, ignoring your distressed cries and your hands pushing against him when you feel the sudden heat in your spasming walls. He licks your tears away, grinding his hips further into your puffy pussy to make sure none of his cum escapes your womb.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He read books by Nicholas Sparks and liked them. 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's very experienced. He prioritizes your pleasure over his because he loves seeing you come apart under his ministrations. Once you're twitching from the neverending pleasure, does he spread you wide and spears you with his cock in one smooth thrust. He listens very intently at every little gasp and moan escaping your lips so he can discover the rhythm and technique your most vocal on.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

His favorite position is cowgirl. He loves seeing how shy and nervous you get when you're hovering over him, licking his lips in anticipation when your pussy presses down on his engorged cock. He lets you go at your own pace, fighting the urge to thrust his hips up as you're slowly taking him inch by inch until your pelvises smack lewdly against each other. It is when your legs grow tired and your movement goes sluggish, that he takes charge and brings you down to clash with every upward thrust into your welcoming pussy. His eyes roam greedily between your sexes smashing violently together and your fucked out expression every time his cock kisses your cervix.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He enjoys teasing you, especially knowing how flustered you get when he whispers dirty things to you. Lacking any sexual experience prior to him, your face quickly gets heated and you can’t look him in the eye when he’s promising to drown in your pussy and fuck you until the bed breaks. If he's feeling humorous, he might start to tickle you to get you to smile and shriek to make you forget your embarrassment at his words.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He's a hairy man. His hair grows rather quickly so he needs to shave often, but he prefers to trim instead of shaving anything off fully. The hairs on his chest often tickle your nose when you're laying on him and the raspiness of his beard leaves a pleasant tingle behind on your skin when he kisses your cheeks. You have to look away when he stretches, his happy trail bringing memories of how deep you’ve had him in your throat, your nose pressed right against his pubic hair and smelling his manly musk before he proceeded to face fuck you to oblivion.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He wasn't always kind to you. Your refusal to accept your place as his beloved had forced him to be the bad guy early on in your relationship. However, after months of secluding you from any form of contact besides his, you've become dependent on him and jump into his arms when he releases you from your prison in the basement. As he's stroking your back and hugging your hiccupping form, he hushes your whimpers with sweet murmurs of never leaving you like the people that abandoned their search for you long ago. When he’s making love to you upstairs in his bedroom, he confesses his feelings for you and worships every inch of you with his mouth and hands. He will make sure you would be protected and loved by him and him alone. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He tries not to think about you while on the road because of how easily just the thought of you makes him hard under his pants. When explicit memories of you won’t leave him, he grumbles in frustration and tries to find somewhere secluded to rub one out. Once he’s parked his vehicle, he opens his glove compartment to find the piece of cloth he tore from you earlier that day. He then pleasures himself while sniffing the remnants of your cum soaked panties, shuddering at the musky scent and envisioning your pussy wrapped around him and your mouth begging him for more. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

The man has a breeding and lactation kink. He often places a pillow under you so his cum can stay in place inside your unprotected womb and sucks on your nipples to the point of pain imagining you plump with his baby and leaking milk into his mouth. 

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

He'll have sex with you just about anywhere. He particularly enjoys doing it in his truck, reclining his seat back to watch you bounce up and down on his fat cock in the middle of nowhere, dirty praises trickling past his lips about how much of a pretty slut you are for him and how good he'll give it to you later at home. He loves having you for dessert when he gets home from work (and killing) too, kneeling under the table in the kitchen to eat you out as you're struggling to eat the food you cooked for him while he gnaws at your clit and folds.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

It's your skittish behavior and the way you bite your lip when he's near you that drives him crazy. Despite your stubbornness not to give in to his lecherous hands, he has you bent over before you can voice out a protest. He runs his fingers lightly along your trembling legs, eyeing the way your soaked panties cling to your vulva and asking what you want him to do to you. If you stay silent for too long, he’ll lean down and threaten to leave you as you are, pressing his hardened cock between your cheeks all the while. Just as he’s about to pull away, you push your hips back and look at him pleadingly. You’re still too shy to tell him what you want so you’ll open your legs wider hoping he catches your drift. He’d want to tease you further but even he has a limit. Your panties are torn off and the clink of a belt is heard right before the room is filled with wet smacks of flesh and breathless cries and grunts echoing throughout the house. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never share you. He'd kill any man or woman who dared touch what was his. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Over the years, he entertained himself with a few lot lizards and learned how to perfect his technique with each encounter. By the time he met you, he knew exactly where to kiss, lick and suck to have you creaming in his mouth within minutes. He's never tasted a pussy as good as yours and will often eat you out for long periods of time, ignoring the way you're tugging on his hair to try to remove him from your overstimulated clit and quivering walls.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depending on how well behaved you are, he can make it slow and sweet for you. He prefers his sex fast and rough, but will be gentle when your sex is sore from the poundings he gave it. However, his gentleness goes out the window when you start acting rebellious again. If you disobey him and try running away, he will catch you and  fuck you in a rage until your crying and begging for forgiveness. He'll fuck you like a bull all night until you pass out from exhaustion. You'll wake up alone and locked inside the basement again, what little freedom you had earned gone in an instant.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He's not a particular fan of quickies because he likes to take his time with you. He enjoys seeing how your will chips away with every stroke of his hands, mouth, and cock, your body fighting against your mind to reach its climax and forcing you to cry out for him after the pleasure becomes too much for you. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Considering how creative he is when torturing his victims, you can bet he’s just as creative in the bedroom. He's a bit of a sadist and will be curious to find out what your limits and pain tolerance is. He smiles at you when you freeze at the rope and chains he has in his hands. You’ll cry out when he handles you none-too-gently, having little time to protect yourself when he wraps a hand around your throat and forces the other down your panties. He’ll tighten his hold on your neck, wheezes and choked gasps escaping you as your eyes beseech him for mercy. In the midst of this punishment, you are horrified to feel your arousal spike, strands of your slick running down your legs as he fingerfucks you roughly. Once he finds out how much you can take, he will subject you to the same painful pleasure at a later date.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He’s only human and has to suffer through a refractory period so he makes sure you cum multiple times before he does. He is able to accomplish this by pumping his fingers inside your pussy, stimulating your g spot while he is forcing his tongue down your throat to muffle your mewls. He’ll have you cumming on his fingers within minutes, allowing you to witness him licking the residue of your orgasm before trailing his body down to the juncture of your thighs. He’ll bury his face in your cunt, holding you in place with one hand on your stomach and stroking himself with the other. Once he’s successfully made you cum again, does he line himself up along your soaked entrance. It is a challenge not to cum once his cock is enveloped by your heat, your walls constricting like a vice around him and making him grit his teeth to prevent himself from spilling inside you too soon. He’ll pump his hips slowly at first, trying to adjust to your gummy insides and closing his eyes in concentration. His careful pace gets shot down to hell when your heels brace on the bed, tilting your hips up and colliding with his next downward thrust. He opens his eyes startled, taking one good look at your disheveled appearance and your chest heaving in a tantalizing fashion before he grabs on to the headboard and slams his hips down in one meaty smack. Within a few moments, you orgasm two more times and your head is lolling to the side by the time he fills you with his cum.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

While he does use restraints on you, he does not own any toys. He's aware of their existence but has never really thought of using them on you. He's confident in his ability to bring you pleasure by his touch alone. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

As was said before, he enjoys teasing you due to your inexperience with sex. His sexual innuendos and jokes make you fidget and squirm where you’re at. No matter how often he’s fucked you, he can never seem to rid you of your embarrassment when you’re both naked and touching each other intimately. It amuses him how cute you are, removing his shirt purposely in front of you before tackling you down playfully on the bed to begin teasing you further.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He'll grit his teeth to lessen his gasps and groans, preferring to hear the sweet symphony of your pleasured cries and moans instead. He'll hide his face on your neck, bracing his knees on the bed before pummeling you hard enough to make the bed creak and your voice rise with each snap of his hips. Heated puffs and throaty moans would spill from him once your walls constricted around him and coaxed him to cum inside your warm heat. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

It was a passing conversation he heard between truckers on the cb radio while he was driving. One of them mentioned how he and his lady kept their sex life interesting and alive for so many years. They did this by role-playing and wearing salacious outfits to spice up the sex. Rusty listened on to the conversation, his mind conjuring up images of you dressing up as a scantily clad nurse or maid, waiting to treat him and service him in any way he desired. It was another trucker’s similar experience but with pet play that had him stunned. A flux of images of you on your knees in cow print lingerie and a collar around your neck stormed his brain, triggering his lactation kink and imagining you whining about the fullness of your chest and needing his help to ease the hurt. That night, he didn’t give you a chance to welcome him home. He ripped your clothes off in a frenzy, paying special attention to your tits while you let out confused moans not knowing what’s gotten into him. He fucked you especially hard, your sweaty bodies colliding violently as his silent determination to get you pregnant echoed like a mantra in his head. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Being well over 6 feet tall, the dick must match the man. The first time you saw it in its entirety, you had quickly slammed your legs shut out of fear. Now you knew why you were always so sore. His cock bobbed out in the open, the weight of it nearly dragging it down as he walked purposefully towards you on the bed. It took very little effort to spread your legs, slapping your hands away when you tried to hide your sex from him. A gasp left you when the heavy weight of his cock slapped on your pubic mound, the length of it reaching your belly button as you lay frozen in place. You could feel it throbbing angrily along your soft belly, your pussy twitching like crazy as you imagined it splitting you open.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive nearly kills you. He's always ready to go and he is not ashamed to grind his erection against your ass so you can feel how much he wants you. Even after he cums, he will continue to play with your body, ensuring you’re always ready for him once he gets hard again. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Once he is completely spent, he's a heavy sleeper. It's hard to get out of his arms when the brute barely feels you squirming and continues to snore softly above your head. You have to bite him to get him to wake up.

A/N: Believe it or not, writing this killed me. Next time I make one of these, I'm only doing certain letters of the alphabet, not the whole thing 💀. Anyways, I hope you guys really enjoyed this! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated 🫶!

Aand I've got a nice treat for my followers to go with this writing~🖤

🔞Full NSFW image here🔞--> <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

[tinalbion]

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.

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

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.”

[littlenightma]

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.”

[small-sinclair]

For @sketchy-rosewitch and @fluffy-little-demon

Something short.

************

Rusty lowered you into the semi’s cabin. You fell asleep while he was driving, so he pulled over to get you to bed. The shipment wasn’t hard to do, but it was a long drive from here to Austin.

Before you, his hands didn’t know how to be gent and loving. His eyes were always filled with threats and dangers. His mind always raced with fear and harm. But he met you. He met your loving touch and bright gaze. He felt your hands combing his hair and smoothing his aches. He felt your bright thoughts enter his brain and carry him far away.

Rusty was a working man, a killer, but he was your man.

He tucked you in gently and kissed your forehead gently. That took in your scent and checked over you once more before leaving you to sleep. He closed the blackout drapes and started his truck. He’ll drive sleep enough so the bumps won’t wake you. He’ll keep the rig steady so your dreams are sweet. Rusty just wants to prove you meant something to him.

You are his sleeping beauty after all.

[slxsherwriter]

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.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"Show Me How You Do It." Bo Sinclair and Rusty Nail X FEM! AFAB! Reader.

So! I have been talking about doing a cross-over fic with these two for a while, you know, the fucked up chain-smoking, truck driving, southern bastards who would totally get along AND make each other worse. So I went kinda hard on this, it gets pretty messy and nasty and violent, I hope you all love it and enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And most importantly, Happy Valentines Day!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 5.6K. Bo Sinclair and Rusty Nail X FEM!AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: EXTREMELY DUB CON. Blood. Gore. A Mutual Murder Hobby. Chase. Predator/Prey. Kidnapping. Restraints. Duct Tape. Nipple Clamps. Masochistic/Pain Slut Reader. Blow Job. Rough Oral Sex. Throat Fucking. Gagging. Knife Play. Pain Play. Degradation. Dirty Talk. Insults. Voyeurism. Torture. Vaginal Sex. Branding. Crying Reader. Cream Pie. Raw Sex. Sloppy Seconds. Serious Threats. Forced Orgasm. The Idea Of Wound Fucking.

—

The pair met by chance, a totally random run in, they figured out each other's hobbies and proclivities by pure happenstance, but a strange friendship was forged all the same as a result. 

Rusty had been on a truck route he'd done multiple times, so when he came across someone rude and in need of correcting? It was all too easy to go after their clique, safe in the knowledge he could indulge his murderous thirst and still hit his destination on time. He'd been on the group for two days, it was near midnight, her car was badly damaged, finally died with a sputter. 

The massive truck comes to a stop, and she sees him in the rearview mirror, she curses and gets out of the car, all her friends are dead, she is alone as she makes a futile attempt to run, key word is attempt. They had got in a nasty fight earlier, Rusty took a tire iron to her leg, pretty sure he broke the bone, but she'd wriggled away, got back to the car had made a getaway, except now if she wants to continue her escape, no other option but to do it on foot. It's amusing how pathetic it is as she limps away. Rusty gets out of his truck and makes his way, not in a particular rush, following behind, she can see him coming, try to speed up, he laughs, then he breaks into the lightest jog and catches up so easily. 

He locks a hand onto her shoulder, leg kicks out, his foot connects, and he violently dislocates her knee, causing her to go down like a sack of bricks with a sharp scream that matches the sound of the sickening crack of her bones breaking. She sobs weakly as Rusty stands over her prone form, back lit by his truck lights, he pulls out a pocket knife, flicks it open, lingers for a moment, simply watching and then he lowers down. A hand is in her hair, he stabs home, sinking into her throat, then tugging, dragging from the left to the right and cold metal tears through fragile flesh and hot blood jets out onto the pavement, staining his knuckles as he removes the weapon from her now dying body. He stands and waits, crimson dripping down silver, drop, drop, drop onto the asphalt. He watches until she stops making those sick gurgling sounds from choking on her own blood and stop moving all together. 

Rusty admires the scene for a moment, and that's when he hears it, the unmistakable sound of an engine turning over, the headlights flicker on and wash over him in profile. He turns his head to see the pickup truck that created the sound, it had been turned off, partly hidden off-road in the grass. He can't see who is at the wheel, his hand tenses around the knife, the door opens, and a man gets out, he leans against the door and calls out, “Nice work.”

Rusty pauses, he isn't sure what to make of the supposed compliment, he keeps his guard up as the stranger approaches, soon he is standing close enough, bathed in the lights from Rusty's truck. He looks to be in his 30s, dark hair, a navy blue jumpsuit, a baseball cap, a crooked smile and the one thing that makes the tension ease, blood speckled across his own features. Rusty considers him, then asks, “You have a good night too?” 

Bo laughs, genuine and joyful rolling off his tongue, “Oh, the best. Wanna hear about it?”

They drag the body off the road, move Rusty's truck off to the side, the pair of them lean against Bo's truck, they both talk and smoke. Bo opens up first, an olive branch, sharing how he and his brothers have their small town project, how people who run through get adopted into the “repopulation effort”, and how he had dispatched the last one who tried to get out of the town. Bo had the corpse in the truck bed, he showed it off, and that was pretty good proof for Rusty.

After that, Rusty shares the indiscretion that idiot made, the cross state chase, the friends he murdered that led to the finale’ Bo just witnessed. It was an entertaining hour to say the least. 

“I gotta finish my delivery, but I got some free time after that, would love to see this town you’ve been talking up in person.” Rusty admits, which has Bo telling him, “Would love to have you, don’ wanna keep you an’ I have to head back myself.” 

Rusty made a move to pick up the body and Bo brushed him off, “Nah, I can handle that for you, if my brother can’t do somethin’ with her, she can go in the gore pit.”

That intrigued him further still, “The gore pit, huh?”

Bo jerked his head behind him, a vague gesture in the direction of where it was, “S’ where undesirable bodies go, you know the ones too fucked up for our purpose, spare parts and whatever can’t be salvaged, t’aint far from here.”

“Well, mighty kind of you, thanks.” Rusty said it sincerely, he hasn’t met someone with his same hobby and certainly not someone willing to be so helpful. Bo told him, “Don’t mention it, I’ll see you round. I’ll make sure to warn my brothers who to look out for so they don’t do nothing untoward to you.” 

They parted ways and Rusty held true to his word, he was back around here in a few days time, and it was all true, just as Bo said. He was shown everything from the gore pit to the basement, and now he had a home away from home and some friends to come visit, like-minded people who he can truly be himself around. They both got along on at least their shared motivation, setting right people who have a distinct lack of manners, Lester’s collection of knives and hard work ethic appealed to him, Vincent’s art was as impressive as his brutal nature, but he got along best with Bo, they were the most alike overall. 

So it became a regular thing, swinging by and stopping when he was in the area, and the friendship grew over time, one of the best times they ever had was when Rusty stuck around for a few days and got to see them all in action when some unlucky people passed on through, he even helped out and fuck, if that wasn’t some of the most fun he ever had. Killing was usually such a solitary activity, sharing it with someone else with an affinity and talent for it, against trespassers and rude individuals? It threatens to border on the euphoric. 

The friendship has developed to the point that they didn’t just spend time hanging around Ambrose, some nights they venture out, do it the Rusty way, find some “talent” and go from there, and that night at the bar, is how they meet you. 

You don’t get nights out as often as you’d like, honestly, this was a rare occasion, you were headed to the table with a fresh drink when they noticed you.

“How bout her?” Bo asked, a glance to the man atop the stool next to him, once he caught his eye he tilted his head in your direction. Rusty followed the movement, looking you over as you settled into your seat, fingers gripping the cool glass in front of you, yeah you were definitely to his tastes, but it wasn't up to him.

Rusty focuses his attention back to Bo and replies honestly, “S’ your birthday, more about what you want than me.”

“True. So I want the illusion of bein’ polite, sue me.” He grinned before taking a sip of his own drink. 

Once they had their sights on you, it was going to happen no matter what, the pair ganging up on you made it laughably easy, especially since the facade only needed to be maintained to get you out of the bar, into the truck and down the road.

The next time you got up the “meet cute” was executed, you were partially distracted and being convinced you knocked into Rusty and spilled his drink due to not paying attention was very believable, as opposed to the truth of him forcing it.

You were thoroughly embarrassed, offering napkins you snatched off the nearest table, stumbling over an apology, “Oh my God, I am so sorry-” 

“S’ fine, accidents happen.” He assured you with that long southern drawl that caught your attention with an easy smile, and you insisted, “Really though, I am sorry, is there any way I can make it up to you?” 

“Well actually…This drink? Was for my friend, not only that, it's his birthday, maybe buy a replacement and come sit with him?” He gestures over his shoulder, and you look in the direction he indicated, not a bad looking man at all, neither was the man in front of you. 

Honestly, there were worse ways to spend your evening, it was more than agreeable. You look back up to his face, partially hidden from his hat, asking a question of your own and answering his query at the same time, “So what's he drinking?”

Once the drink was purchased and introductions were made, you were pleasantly surprised by how well you got along, the conversation flowed easily, the tone a bit flirty and when the offer to attend Bo's birthday party was made a long while later, you thought why not? 

You took a cab here and had already had a couple of drinks, so riding with them in Bo's pickup truck just made sense. The mood on the way there remained light, music playing, and you were excited by the sound of the upcoming festivities. The drive flew by, leading to you riding up the main drag in Ambrose, you were at ease and distracted so you didn’t notice the lack of any other car on the road, or any other living person, but you would come to question that as soon as you were out of the truck and in front of the large dark house. You expected lights, music already pouring out, life, not this, the utter still and quiet that was permeating the street.

“Where is everyone else?” You asked in slight confusion and the pair shared a laugh, Bo asked, “What do you mean?” 

A quirk of your brow with a point to the house, before your hand opens, palm flat and up as you press, “The party? You said there was a party here?” 

Another laugh, this one much more devoid of humour, “Sorry for the confusion darlin’ see, this is the party. One-” Bo points to himself, “-two-” then pointing to Rusty, “-three.” He finished pointing at you.

“A party of three sounds pretty great to me.” Rusty agreed with a grin and Bo confirmed, “A threesome sounds like the perfect gift, hm?”

You would be lying if you hadn’t thought about that earlier in the bar, with the certain touches, being pressed between them, thought maybe the night might trend that way in a different set of circumstances, you were into the both of them, but the choice being all but removed is a horse of a different colour. The response in you is automatic, you turn, and you bolt, you run back the way you came, and part of you was very aware you wouldn’t get away, but wasn’t this your fault?

You should have known better than this, then to get in a truck with two strangers you had just met, it was stupid. Now you were running down the street, terrified, and judging by the lack of help from your calls and cries and no people around, this town is deserted save for you and the two of them. Any other town running down the main street screaming for help would at least get some attention, but clearly this is no normal town. 

This is all calculated, and you played right into it, you can hear them behind you, hooting and hollering, they gave you a small head start, but now we're coming quickly, this is part of it obviously, the chase. You wonder how many times they have done this, if you would ever be found, if your story would eventually be covered on some morbid as fuck true-crime podcast, you push yourself harder, lungs burning, thighs straining and feet hurting from how hard you were pounding the pavement in an attempt to get away. 

Of course, they catch you. 

The one named Rusty had been the one to get his arms locked around your waist, yanked you up with a delighted, “Gotcha!” 

“Damn, she almost made it all the way to the church!” Bo sounded like he was genuinely happy and your stomach twists, you scream, Rusty whistles in response and Bo comments, as if you weren’t there, “Good set a lungs on her, huh?”

Rusty grunted in the affirmative as he tightened his arms around you, keeping a tight hold as you attempt to squirm, kick and struggle. “Let’s get her into the basement.”

The basement? The last fucking place you wanted to be alone with these two was the fucking basement, it was futile, but you tried, you called out into the dark nothing of the night.

The basement under the garage was a dank dirty place, you don't take in many details, but your eyes do scan the photo wall, the mattress with no sheet on it, but the focal point is obvious once it enters your line of sight, the chair. Leather and metal, able to change the position, an archaic dentist chair.

You are put in it, held by one tightly and your wrists and ankles duct taped by the other, several loops around your knees and elbows further restricting your movement, in less than two minutes you know you weren’t going anywhere.

“Think this'll hold?” Rusty asked, grip loosening, and Bo hummed, “Yeah it should, has before.” 

Confirming you are definitely not the first, then again the simple fact this room existed communicated that, a knife is drawn, and he says, “Too bad you are so restless, might have been able to save these pretty clothes if we coulda stripped 'em off before we had to tape you up.” 

Rusty follows Bo's musing by saying, “Yeah, now we'll need to cut them off to get to what we want.” 

“Shame.” He says it in a tone that gets across his overt joy at the situation. 

You say nothing because you know it won't help, there are a few displeased sounds that escape when he begins to work regardless. The thin strap of your top is caught with the blade, he pulls it up and the strap snaps, the second one follows, next the shirt's hem is gripped with one hand and the knife saws up until the fabric is able to be yanked off your frame. You are pulled up from your sitting position and your nice jeans are cut in multiple places before the blade is put between his teeth and then strong fingers slip into the open spaces, then tearing until only some denim is left on the lower half of your legs, thanks to the tape. He nicked you with the knife a few times, and each time you inhaled sharply from the small jolts of pain, the blood slowly running.

Rusty sat idly by, on a chair of his own, watching this all go down, you wonder why he isn’t getting in on it himself, most he is commenting on what's going on, at the moment he is talking about your underwear, saying it's  “Cute, think she was looking to get laid tonight?”

“That's a great question, let's ask her, she's been too quiet.” A hand is in your hair, jerking your head up to look at him instead of the cut he left on your inner thigh. “The panties are real nice, you dressed up cuz you were lonely? Desperate for some company?”

So maybe you were, perhaps that was the main reason you were out there tonight, but that doesn't mean you had to admit that to them. You don't want to not respond, so you lie, “It's for me.” 

“Oh really? Don't know nobody who wears stuff this slutty just for themselves, do you, Rusty?” Bo's hands are on your body, knife off to the side as he starts to feel you up, fingers playing with the lace edges and delicate material covering your chest.

“Personally? No, I don't. Wearing something like that is just asking for it, inviting all sorts of attention.” Rough palms explore your tits, thumbs brush already hardening nipples and your breath catches. You bite out a response, “Ever heard of the saying look good feel good? That's all it is.” 

Mutual scoffs and laughs, before Bo taunts, “Yeah, sure, let's follow this line of thinking, you look good to feel good, so I'll help you feel real good.”

“So generous.” Rusty complimented and Bo thanked him. You thought about how isn't this what you wanted in a roundabout way, you might as well try to enjoy it, right? Might be sick and twisted, but so is this whole situation, you’d be a filthy fucking liar if you said you weren’t into the idea of being restrained, perhaps if you mentally reframe this you can get almost as much enjoyment out of this as they are.

“You gonna put some of that to good use?” Rusty asked with a gesture to the wall, your head turns to see a series of what looks like torture implements on hooks and racks. 

“Course I am! That's half the fun right there.” Bo left you on the chair as he headed over, your eyes went wide with panic, and you said, “What about what you just said? About feeling good?”

“Awe, you don't get it, see, the hurt is gonna make what does feel good, feel even better.” He said it slowly and carefully, as if you were stupid, and he needed to spell it out for you to be able to begin to comprehend it. You resent that, hate how much it arouses you.

He came back over, something in his hand that you couldn't quite make out, his opposite hand reached out, fingers hooked in your bra, and he pulled it down under the curve of your breast so it would stay in place. Bo says casually, “Nice tits.”

You laugh, a shocked nervous thing from how casually he stated it, that laugh is cut off abruptly when he flicks your nipple, you yelp and then that makes him laugh in turn. Some more flicks, hard pinches and twists led to him saying, “You look ready.”

Both his hands get into the mix, and you find out what he brought over, nipple clamps, worse still clover clamps. Traditional clamps pinch from two sides, clover clamps resemble their namesake and instead provide four points of pressure, like the directions on a compass but more sadistic in nature, boxing the sensitive bud in on all sides. He takes his time placing and tightening both of them until you can't hold back your whimpering, the pain is burning, more than slightly distracting, the chain connecting the clamps that currently rests between the valley of your breasts is freezing cold. You are trying to reign yourself in, not show just how much of a pain slut you are, but it is one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. 

“Looks good.” Rusty praised, and Bo followed with, “Have to say I agree.” 

You are repositioned, the chair is moved, the leg rest stretched out, you are pulled forward, and adjusted to his liking until you are on your knees and elbows, eye level with his belt buckle. 

“I can't resist it, I gotta have that mouth, but M’ not stupid, I know it's dangerous, so keep those teeth in line, or I'll make it hurt much worse-” As he speaks he is opening his belt and dragging down the zipper on dark washed jeans, staring down at your face. “-you do a good job we can get to you feeling’ good too, faster.” 

Makes sense, you do love sucking dick, you can fake some added enthusiasm, you can do this.

You had noticed how hard he was through his pants, and now he was standing before you, thick and hot shaft in his hand, he nudged his hips forward, the head of his dick to your lips. You resist for a fraction of a moment, but even that is enough to displease him, he grips and yanks your hair, breaching your less than willing mouth, he starts to slip inside you, closing your eyes and taking him halfway down on the first stroke, rewarded with a pleasured hum from him. The taste is strong, salty, but by no means bad, just the kind of flavour you’d find from a man who hasn’t showered in hours.

You pull back and then rock forward, you tighten your lips around him and suck, you think to other times, different circumstances to fuel you, a running track of your thoughts, “Act like you love it. Act like a slut. Give it your all. It might just save your life.”

And that is exactly what you do, you press your tongue to the underside of his shaft, dragging up and then forcing yourself down harder, sucking all the while, but you don’t just do that, you make sure to provide some good variety. You pull him almost totally out and focus on the head, tongue swirling around the tip, eyes open, and you look up to meet startlingly blue eyes, “Not a bad start.”

You can do a lot better than that. Rusty piped up, and your eyes shot over, watching as he is opening his own pants now, “How about you give her some more motivation?”

Sinking down again as your captor says, “I love how you think.” Bo reached over, you falter, and he said, “I didn’t say slow down.”

His tone is harsh, you fight a wince and step it up, picking up the pace and making sure to hollow your cheeks on every upward movement. You only got a few bobs of your head in until he had whatever he needed in his hand, he reaches down, and soon you are clued in, the harsh pull on your nipples, the chain pulled taut, now it was crystal clear, he added a weight. You were feeling it, back arching slightly to try and ease it, but there was no helping it, the pain in your nipples nearly doubled, and you had to fight to maintain momentum in sucking his dick. 

Your focus is on Bo, but Rusty still checks in, and you can hear him openly jacking off at this point.

You begin to find your footing, some semblance of confidence, when Rusty cuts in again, “You're being so nice to her, M’ shocked.” 

That gets the intended rise out of Bo, him muttering, “Shut up Rusty, I’m not fucking nice, and you know it.” 

Rusty hits back with, “Coulda fooled me.”

Bo picks up the discard knife and holds it to your cheek, a shock of fear runs through you, body tightening up, and he barks down at you, “Is that the best you can do?”

Christ, you are being put to work. You begin to throat fuck yourself roughly, hoping that will please him enough, that the added pressure of the head of his cock penetrating the tight wet heat of your neck will soothe him. He does seem to enjoy it, in fact he enjoys it so much that the knife slips slightly and cuts your cheek, you whine around his dick, and he groans at the mild vibration. 

Rusty even notices your efforts, calling out, “Look at her get after it.”

He can’t help himself, hips starting to move, fucking into your mouth that is steadily leaking drool down your chin. 

You had been faring pretty well but with him getting increasingly rough, the pain from your chest and the second, fuck, third cut on your cheek, the lack of air, you feel your stomach turning, you gag too hard and pull yourself back with a gasping breath. 

No rest is given, no kindness show, an open hand hit to your bloody cheek makes you cry out before fingers tangle in your hair and twist, pulling you closer to him, you don’t comply immediately. You are still trying to breathe, to rein in your stomach and not be sick, but he isn’t having it. Head pressing to your closed lips, and you shake your head, tempted to tell him you need a second, he tells you, “Open that addictive little mouth again.”

You shake your head, and he tightens his grip on the knife, “I’ll get in that mouth one way or another, even if I have to make a new hole to do it.”

The severe look on his face tells you how serious he is, you should have realized sooner that he is the kind of man who would get off on fucking an open wound. His fingers prod at the slice on your cheek and the image of him ripping it open with his own brute strength just like he did to your jeans earlier filters through your mind, like water rushing over a rock.

That convinces you, mouth back open, he shoved inside, and you find a way to make it work. The worst thing about all of this is how it is getting to you, the extreme situation, the degradation, the audience and pain, him using your mouth with no regard, your inner thighs are soaked. In a few more minutes, the extreme nature of the throat fuck has your eyes tearing up and when he catches the shiny wet tracks pouring down your cheeks he cannot help himself. 

“She puts on a good little show, doesn’t she?” Rusty praised and Bo grunted in agreement.

He is hauling you up, no concern for how it hurts and pulls on the clamps, he throws you down onto that dirty mattress, you are on your back and that eases the pain on your chest a bit. 

You wonder how he is going to do this with the tape around your ankles and knees, your legs are together and straight, but the answer comes quickly, your legs are brought up, rested on his chest, feet placed beside his head on his left shoulder. Rusty gets up, not bothering to put his dick away, “I got you a present, don’t let me stop you, I’ll get it ready.”

He is able to get great leverage, have complete and total access and still look down at your, as he puts it, “Pretty cryin’ face.” 

One hand falls down, and he touches your soaked cunt for the first time, his fingers swiped up between your folds, and you arch, a gasp slips out, and he laughs, “Holy shit, you are soaked!”

Bo holds his hand up for Rusty to see, and he pauses whatever he is doing and laughs too, your eyes close, and you bite your tongue, suppressing a groan, you just want relief, you want him to keep touching you and hate yourself more than a little for that fact. You are wet, yes, but unprepared for how swiftly he enters you, essentially no preamble, it tears a loud moan from you and all pretense is abandoned, you can’t even remotely pretend this doesn’t feel incredible and exactly what you need. It both soothes your need and stokes it at the same time, the thick shaft dragging along your swollen walls, stretched to what it feels like their limit. 

He doesn’t waste time, he is rough, cruel, he slams his hips into you with such force it hurts the backs of your thighs, but the positive far out weighs the negative, it feels amazing. 

You lose yourself, moans and curses spill forth from your lips as you rock with him, his hands are needy, busy grabbing on you, feeling the soft planes of flesh within reach, the sound of skin on skin and his own curses and groans fill the space. Whatever Rusty is up to has totally fallen away in the background.

 Even when he first got inside of you, actually cumming wasn’t honestly on your radar, and yet, here you are, hurtling towards that edge. You swear that at times with attentive partners giving it their all you can’t get off, and here is this total asshole, with zero care for your pleasure, his fingers brushed over your clit all of one single time, and he might just make you cum harder than anyone else ever has. It creeps up quickly, going from the thought, “I think I might actually cum-” to gasping out, “Holy fucking shit!” cumming with an ample gush in the span of less than two minutes. 

The pleasure makes you shiver, body trembling, every small inhale noisy, you feel like your body isn’t your own and yet you are still locked inside of it, helpless to the complete overwhelming force of it sweeping through you. The walls of your pussy rippling around his shaft, as if trying to pull him even deeper, an impossibility because he is slamming every single inch into you on every forward thrust of his hips.

Bo groans loudly, his head tipping back, a swallow that makes his Adam’s apple bob heavily, “Christ I could die in this cunt happy.”

You are overstimulated, still struggling to come down from your high, when Rusty’s voice filters through your pleasure induced haze, “I think I got something to make it even better.”

Bo looked over his shoulder to Rusty, you can’t see him from your angle, but Bo gasps, “No you fuckin’ didn’t.”

“I sure as shit did, so you want it?” Rusty asked, and you hear a grunt in the affirmative, “Yeah, fuck, hurry tho, M’ gettin’ close.”

You hear the steps coming closer, even over the obscene sounds of your sex, the wetness and meeting of your bodies, you try to brace yourself, but you have no idea what you are preparing for, still struggling with your body weak from the evening's strenuous activities.

“Got a place in mind?” Rusty asked and Bo said, “Anywhere, you’re the expert.”

Bo’s voice sounded strained, his hips are flattering, but every thrust that does fully connect is somehow even harder, he really is close, and you know there is nowhere else he is going to cum but inside of you.

You don’t see it, you feel it first, the pain is unlike anything you have ever experienced, the pain is blinding, the scream that it rends from you is the loudest you have ever let out, no doubt. It goes on for a solid twenty seconds, your entire body locks up, naturally your cunt is included in that, and it proves too much for Bo, it pushes him over the edge, and he holds deep, cumming fully in your seizing pussy. You are begging, broken and nonsense, begging all the same, just for whatever they are doing to you to just end. 

When Rusty steps away, your vision takes a moment to come back into focus, once it does, you see it, he is holding a branding rod, the still angry red capital B, they branded you, right on your outer thigh near your hip. Long after this night is done, if you make it out alive, a permanent reminder and souvenir from this, branded for Bo, his birthday present always, even if you manage to get away. 

The pain is still ruling your mind, you are not at all focused on it when Bo pulls out, he lets go of your legs and lets them fall to the mattress you don’t notice the cum pouring out of you because of the sudden terrible pressure on the brand makes you sob. You don’t notice Rusty getting onto the mattress next, vaguely hearing him ask, “Mind if I finish up in her? I got real close earlier.”

“Go for it.” Bo encouraged, wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand as you continue to cry. “Shhh, I gotcha.” Rusty puts you on your other side, taking all the pressure off your brand mark, thankfully, he lines up and slides into you with a deep groan, the sound of it makes you clench around him. 

Rusty taking him up for sloppy seconds provided essentially no relief, the waves of pain radiating cuts through any pleasure, it is too strong for even a little masochist like you to enjoy. No way you are going to cum again tonight.

Rusty must have been very close before because he is cumming in you, adding to the mess, less than five minutes into fucking you. You feel pretty out of it when he pulls out too, you know you are making a mess, stuffed with far too much cum for any one hole. You lay there, still taped, sweaty, more tired than you think you have ever been when you hear Bo say, “Lets go have another drink and then see if we wanna come back and play with her some more tonight or leave her for tomorrow.” 

“Love the way you think.” Rusty replies, you hear them head up the stairs, and you lay there, bringing your still bound hands up to take off the clamps still fixed on, far too tired to even think of escape, hoping they leave you for tomorrow and that the pain ebbs enough that you can get some much-needed sleep.

[gongyussy]

felt sad. caught up on baseball from the past week. now i'm not that sad anymore.

[janedoecreations]

Rusty Nail: "Well, well, well, look who we have here Mick. Seems like we both have our eyes on this one."

Mick Taylor: "Aye, she's a pretty little thing, ain't she? But she's mine to play with."

The Victim: "Um, excuse me, I don't think--"

Rusty Nail: (interrupting) "Shh, sweetheart. The grown-ups are talking."

The Victim: "But I'm not a possession to be--"

Mick Taylor: (interrupting) "Shut it, lass. The men are sorting this out."

Rusty Nail: "So Mick, what do you say we settle this the old-fashioned way? Winner takes all."

Mick Taylor: "Sounds like a fair deal to me. But just so we're clear, she's mine for the taking."

The Victim: "This is crazy! I never signed up for--"

Rusty Nail: (cutting her off) "We heard you the first time, darling. Now just sit back and enjoy the show."

Mick Taylor: "Aye, this will be a night to remember, won't it?"

The Victim: "Can we please just talk about this like normal--"

Rusty Nail: (overlapping) "No can do, sweetheart. It's our way or the highway."

Mick Taylor: (grinning) "And the highway leads straight to my domain, lass."

The Victim: (in disbelief) "This is like a bad horror movie come to life."

Rusty Nail: (chuckles) "Oh, you have no idea, sweetheart. The real fun is just beginning."

Mick Taylor: "Aye, prepare yourself for a wild ride, lass. It's gonna be bloody brilliant."

The Victim: (muttering under her breath) "I need to find new friends..."

[adalwolfgang]

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.

[salem-the-puppet]

I don't mind what character for this one but the reader is really calm, cool, and collected however, if you manage to piss them off enough it could be deadly?

I been wanting to write Art the clown and Rusty so those two. It be a headcannon thing

He loved playing pranks with you

Just to see what you would do

One time you try to kill him

It didn't work

It made him horny

You know have a horny ass clown

He the same way to

Takes you with him

Into you killed an entire coffa

That when the joyrides stop

But he keeps up with you

You live in his house

[ninakuli]

Forgot your birthday

Special tag: @sh1n0o @12gaugefalls @poir0t-houck @waxxl0ver

Just write this little things before I sleep :3

Bo Sinclair:

"It's your birthday today?"

"..."

"Here your birthday gifts."

Then he will give you the beer that he already drinking to half.

And at most just be nicer to you, a little bit, yes a little bit :/

If he feeling 'generous' and want, he probably will accomplish your 'bed wish'

Rusty nail:

"Sh..."

If he still on the road and prepare go back home, he'll go to the shop buy you some little gifts.

If he already at home and you tell him, he'll bring you to buy whatever you want.

If it's too late to go out he'll apologize then tell you tomorrow he'll bring you to buy gifts.

It he haven't finish work and can't go back home, he'll celebrate your birthday later, like when he can come back home, he will compensate how late to celebrate your birthday.

[tinalbion]

Hi!! I am OBSESSED with Rusty Nail atm, so I was wondering how he would react to a wife reader who has really bad anxiety?

Thanks for the amazing content :)

-phantom

Oh you absolutely can!

I apologize for the EXTREME lateness of this, I fell into the void, I got back into art and I just sorta got taken over by drawing, but I've been craving to write again and I am missing my truck driver man, so let's get right back into it! Anytime you need some Rusty, I am here for you!

Rusty Comforting You When You're Dealing with Anxiety ||

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: None - Comfort, fluff

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 1k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Rusty tries his best to help you when you're feeling anxious

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

Rusty wouldn't have picked up on it right away when you two started seeing each other, he just figured that all people have their quirks, and everyone is different, but the more he pays attention to you, the more he's led to believe it's not just a part of your everyday habits. He kept a watchful eye on you after one particular night when you felt yourself slowly spiraling out of control, and you had simply tried to play it off that you were fine. But Rusty knew you weren't, everything he knew about you said otherwise. 

Anxiety was fickle and yours acted up in any situation, anything could trigger it, and you despised it. One moment you sat there beside Rusty, your eyes fluttering closed as you drifted off, and then your brain would go into overthinking mode, which made you snap your eyes open and stare ahead as you tried your best to calm down. Rusty wasn't well suited nor capable of dealing with ways to calm you, but he learned over time being married to you.

Whether it was something simple like bringing you a warm cup of whatever beverage you preferred to calm your nerves, or he remembered to pick up one of your favorite snacks from the gas station he stopped in, it was always in the back of his mind to think of things that could make you happy, to ease you into comfort. But most times, he would offer himself.

The large man would always practically wrap around your entire body when he held you, and you clung to him and refused to let go as he would sit there with you, making sure you did some deep breaths in through your nose and out of your mouth. He didn't have many words of wisdom to impart upon you, but who needed them when he would speak to you in that low tone you found so soothing? His large hand would caress your back, making sure he spoke to you calmly about anything and everything. 

“Hey now, you're alright, ain't ya?” He would ask you. “You're here, I'm here. I gotchu,” he cooed. “Yer alright, I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“Promise?” “Course I promise.”

His voice was a source of comfort to you, you were always so attracted to his voice, and you had heard the range from anger to softness. No matter the situation, you focused on that and it grounded you for the most part. You’d curl up into his side, and no matter what you were feeling, his warmth, his largeness, it always enveloped you and made you feel tranquility like nothing else. Once you two had bonded, he fully believed that you would be his forever and vice versa, so he took the ‘in sickness and in health’ vow very seriously. He was quick to anger in some situations, but when it came to you, he had all the patience in the world, and he would do his best to walk you through it.

Whenever you had the attention span to sit down and discuss your anxiety with him, you would tell him things that could help you, and coming from him, it would mean the world to you if he could attempt anything to get you to destress. 

So that’s what he did, and whatever the reason why you were feeling the way you were that day, he’d guide you by your hand and have you sit down either on the sofa or outside on the porch. He knew fresh air helped most days, or if he was out on the road, he’d immediately find a place to pull over so he could walk you through it. No matter what, he wanted to be your source of safety, and if it meant prolonging a job, he’d do it. 

He likes to make sure you’re aware he’s there, whether its placing his massive hand on the small of your back, your thigh, or your knee. He finds it comforting for himself if he physically shows you that he’s there for you. He also hopes that you’re able to understand that this is the way he is when it comes to being there for you. Even if you have to cry to let out your frustrations, he will hold you and let you do whatever it was you needed to do. 

Another thing he took notice of is that you like to steal his undershirts. “They smell like you!” you’d say, pouting if he tried to take it. So he’d give you one of his shirts to wear when you were having a particularly bad day. He slowly but surely became aware of your moods and how they could fluctuate, but he found you to be one of the most precious people on the planet. You accepted him and all of his faults, he’d never deny yours, so he vowed to take care of you. 

Doesn’t matter what time of day it is, if he deems it necessary, he’s going upstairs, running you a bath, and then he’s making you lay down with him just to relax your muscles. You were always tense, always bouncing your leg, or just trying to find busy work whenever you were unable to perform anything, especially that one time you had forgotten about the food cooking on the stovetop. Thankfully, Rusty was home and not out on the job, he was able to save a few of the side dishes before a fire started, but he didn’t blame you for it. Ever since then, he understood that this was something more and he constantly kept an eye on you, took notice of how you spoke to him, and would easily pick up on tone of voice and body language. 

Rusty can understand taking care of someone who offends you, a physical person he can easily dispose of and watch the life drain from their eyes for treating you in such a way. But this? It was a challenge to be sure, but he wasn’t too old of a dog to learn new tricks, and he was trying to make more of an effort since you always went out of your way for him. 

[littlenightma]

Warm Hands | Rusty Nail x Female!Reader | Part 1

Author’s Note: This man has me giggling and kicking my feet. Thank you @peyton-peyton for the recommendation because I am obsessed. By the way, I know my requests are closed (I have quite the backlog) but if anyone wants to send me any headcanon requests regarding Rusty, feel free to. I can’t get enough of this man 💕

Warning Tags: Older man/younger woman, size difference, possessive behavior, dubious consent, smitten at first sight, Rusty is doting on reader, and a lot of smut (in part 2).

Winter had finally settled in your small town. A fine layer of frosty snow blanketed the ground, keeping most off the roads and inside their homes, tucked safe and sound in their beds.

The convenience store parking lot was vacant besides a few stray cars, most likely belonging to the store workers, and a black Peterbilt truck. With the exception of a light post flickering noisily above you, the world was quiet.

The door ringed when you entered, announcing to the cashier, who was currently reading a magazine, that a customer was here. You politely nodded as you quickly pass, skimming past a man idling by the lighter display.

Knowing the store by heart, you had gathered what you wanted in less than a minute. You took your place behind the man where you realized just how tall he was because you barely came up past the middle of his back.

Geez, dude, what the hell did your mother feed you when you were a kid?

Must have been the owner of the Peterbilt. His attire screamed trucker with his thick, brown coat, worn jeans, and work boots. Curling just beneath his dirty baseball cap was dark, graying hair.

“Pack of Malborros too.”

The deep baritone caused a chill to go down your spine. You hummed it out, shaking your head to keep your thoughts from straying. He pulled out a black wallet attached to a long, silver chain that hung from his hips. Grabbing his lighter and smokes, he gruffly thanked the worker and headed for the door.

Beneath the glow of the store’s fluorescent lights his ruggedly handsome features weren’t able to hide the strong jaw covered in stubble, plush lips set in a grim frown, or baby blue eyes that reflected just how tired he was.

He walked by you to the front door and you sucked in a breath when his hand lightly brushed yours, sending an electric shock to your heart that felt like it had stopped beating. So subtle, the contact, yet it left your mind reeling. Both you and the cashier watched him walk to his truck. While she couldn’t tear her eyes off his ass, you couldn’t keep your eyes off his hand.

She made a noise. “He sure was a tall drink of water.”

You blinked. “Oh, yeah, I guess.”

She inclined her head. “You know he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”

Even though you rolled your eyes, your heart skipped a beat. “Stop it.”

She scanned your drink, eyes bulging. “I’m serious!”

“I was only up here for two seconds.”

“Baby, he had his eyes locked on you the moment you stepped through the door. You’ll be lucky to make it out of the parking lot without him nippin’ at your heels.”

He’ll be long gone.

You glanced out the display window. His truck was still there.

Or not.

She finished scanning the rest of your things. “Fine, don’t believe me. But I’ve been around the block a few times. I know when a man wants a woman.” She slipped the receipt into the bag and slid it across the counter.

“Prepare to be disappointed.”

She smirked and winked. “Have a nice night, sweetheart.”

The wintry air nipped at your nose. You shivered and stuffed your hands in the pockets of your jacket. The truck camouflaged perfectly against the black night. The light post that still flickered illuminated just enough where you could see inside. The trucker sat hunched over in the driver’s seat with a lit cigarette dangling loosely out his mouth.

You had to pass the truck to get to your car. Sucking in a long breath to calm your nerves, you slowly walked to your car. As you came closer, the driver’s side window slowly winded down.

His deep voice pierced the silence like a freshly sharpened knife, “It isn’t safe for a young woman to be out here by herself.”

Your heart thumped loudly in your ears. “Why do you think I’m alone?”

“I’d hate to think any man would allow their lady to walk themselves to their car in the middle of the night.” He took the cigarette out of his mouth, cushioning it between two fingers. “I know I wouldn’t allow mine to.”

The way he elongated the word mine was not missed and neither did was the way he peered down at you from beneath his hat, watching your reaction. Your cheeks felt warmer than the rest of your body and you knew you must have been blushing from the attention he was giving you.

“Maybe I have a shitty boyfriend?”

“Would be quite the shame. Pretty thing like you deserves someone who will treat her right.”

It was a good thing you weren’t made of snow because you were melting beneath his scorching stare and flirtatious words.

Stop it. Tell him you have a boyfriend.

Your mouth betrayed your thoughts, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He took a long drag, inhaling deeply, the corner of his lips curling. “Good, means I don’t have to teach the boy a lesson about respecting his woman.”

He tapped the end of the cigarette out the window. Ash fell onto the ground causing small, random holes to form, ruining the undisturbed beauty of the freshly fallen snow.

“I don’t often do this, but it would be nice to have some company for the night.”

And there it was. Part of you knew this is where the conversation was heading. Truckers stayed on the road for days, even weeks at a time, usually without anyone to talk to except for other haulers. It wasn’t unheard of for them to pick up a woman along the way, but you weren’t looking for a one night stand.

“I’m sorry but I need to get home before the storm gets worse. Have a nice night.”

The cigarette bounced between his pink lips, lips that looked so kissable that it was a crime that the next words that came out of them froze you worse than the chilly night. He blew out a puff of smoke before dousing out what was left of the tobacco end. He flicked it off somewhere in the distance and his gaze then settled back on you.

“That wasn’t exactly a suggestion, little one.”

“What?” You stepped back. “Look, whatever you’re looking for, you’re not going to find it with me. Like I said, I need to get home.”

He chuckled low. “You won’t make it far, believe me.”

You shook your head, not believing this was happening. “There are plenty of women who will happily make your night.”

He sighed heavily and hopped out of the truck. “Don’t make me have to ask again. I hate repeatin’ myself.”

The ice made it difficult to move quickly without skidding and he grabbed you before you could move out of his reach. Not hard, not roughly, just enough to keep a hold of you. He pulled you around and opened the cab’s passenger door, waiting for you to climb the steps.

“I ain’t going to hurt ya, darlin’. Get on up there.”

Even though his words were reassuring like the large hands resting on your shoulders, he had you caged between the truck cab and his body. He nudged you up the steps, following closely behind until you were settled in the passenger seat. The cab rattled and so did your nerves when he slammed the door shut. As he walked around the front, you pulled the door handle.

It was locked.

[small-sinclair]

Favorite Kisses

Brahms likes it when he gets a good night kiss, but his favorite is the good morning kisses. The way y/n rolls over and gives him a gentle kiss on the mask, whispering sweetly, “Good morning, Brahms.” But if his mask is off, the gentle caress he’ll get over his burned skin and kisses from y/n… he melts. He loves them so.

Vincent loves it when y/n stands on their tipy toes and litter his mask with kisses, but he really loves it when y/n stands behind, arms snaking up his shoulders, and rests their head on his back. He’ll put down his carving tools after a while and turn to face y/n. Their sleepy eyes look up and ask, “Kiss?” And this man’s heart melts. He lifts his mask just enough to lean down and kiss them sweetly. When he looks at y/n and sleepy self, he’ll pick them up and carry them to bed just to the side of the workshop.

Bo enjoys kissing his s/o on the cheek before leaving for work and after coming home from a long day, but his favorite kiss is when they hold his hand, bring it up to their lips, and kiss the back of his hand. Every time he feels those lips ghost over his scarred knuckles, he feels as if time stops. He’ll then pull y/n close by their waist and leave one of his tender kisses, slow and drawn out over their lips.

Lester loves getting little kisses on the cheek/jaw while he’s driving, but his favorite one are the window kisses. Lester would poke his head out the window of his truck as he talks to his s/o before he leaves for work or just stopping by to grab something. Y/n follows them to the truck, talking about their day and plans for later for dinner/night. Lester’ll poke his head out with his smile and promises, “I’ll be safe. Be home soon, sweet pea.” Then a kiss comes. It’s quick and gentle with the loud smooch noise, but it drives him wild. He always wanted kisses like that. His father would give that before his mother left for work. He dies every time when his s/o kisses him like that.

Reggie loves the window kisses like Lester. Sticking his head out the window to be kissed by his s/o and seeing them smile… it drives him home even before he left the driveway, but that’s not his favorite kiss. He melts when his face is littered with kisses, but y/n has bright red lipstick on. Every kiss they leave behind, a bright red kiss print reminds. At the end, his cheeks, neck, lip, forehead is covered in red lipstick stains. He gets so flustered and blushy when he looks at himself in the mirror afterwards. He loves it so much. In his truck, he has a photo of him and his s/o. At the bottom of the picture is lipstick stain from them.

Rusty Nail loves giving you a kiss on the cheek before he leaves to drive. It’s like his last time marking you and feeling your skin before his 4-7 day drive. When he comes home, it’s a bear hug, shower together, and all the kisses that he has to make up for.

Johnny Slaughter loves it when you kiss him first. To him, it shows you trust him and warming up to him. He loves it when you kiss his cheek before he leaves and kiss his forehead while he eats. But the best kiss he loves giving you is when you’re asleep at 2:15am and the full moon light is on your lips. He’ll lean down and kisses them then your forehead, so gently that you’ll never wake. It’s moments of peace and comfort where he’s not angry or murderous; he’s with you. You’re all that matters in the world.

[slxsherwriter]

Pay for Past Sins

Fandom: Joy Ride

Pairing: Rusty Nail x single mother female reader

Word count: 2,529

Warnings: Kidnapping, violence, blood, injuries, threats to a child character

Author's note: I wanted to play with the idea of allowing Rusty to show off that more violent and aggressive side of him since I've written him more softly. In the end, I actually struggled a bit with the way that he would handle things, so I think I found a way to go about it that suited everything. As always, not beta read. Mistakes are my own. Enjoy! Likes are always appreciated, but reblogs keep the creative muse fed.

Tagging: @tinalbion @umnitsa

Stickiness on the side of your face. A deep, pulsing throb in your head. You made a move to reach up and touch where the pain seemed to be radiating from, only to not be able to move your arms. A quick jerk confirmed the fact and panic welled in your chest. What the hell? The tightness around your wrists registered as well as the stretch in your shoulders. Your hands were restrained behind your back.

The last thing that you remembered was having dinner with Rusty and Michael. Michael. You tried to push yourself up. It took a little more effort than expected and only made your head feel worse, the pain sharpening briefly as you righted yourself. It took a moment, some slow breathing with your eyes squeezed shut, to let the worsening pain pass. Once it felt like your head wasn't about to pop like a grape, you opened your eyes. The room around you wasn't all that impressive. Dark, dingy. A dirt floor beneath you meant any movement caused little clouds of dirt dust to whirl in the air. It was quiet. Eerily and uncomfortably quiet. Panic curled in your gut and your chest, for a moment, leaving you feeling breathless. You had to get free. Where was Rusty? Where was Michael? Were you the only one who was tied up in this? There were a lot of questions and no answers. As you shifted your wrists, causing the material to bite further into your skin, you looked around for any sign of your son first.

“Look who's awake.” A voice off to your right spoke. There wasn't a body that you could see, just shadow movements. Blinking, you tried to clear your eyes more and find the shape of the individual that was speaking. “You aren't going to get yourself free. Might as well stop now.” The voice wasn't one that you knew, unrecognizable. But still, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

“Who are you? What do you want?” In case he didn't have Michael, you didn't want to say anything right away. As much as you wanted to know where he was, protective instincts demanded that you didn't put him in any more danger.

“You know, you must be really sick in the fucking head, being with him.” Nothing about the statement made sense. Him? Who the hell was he referring to? Did this have something to do with your ex? The two of you had been separated for nearly a year now, the divorce done and over. He was the one who initiated it. Despite the warning, as you thought about what could have brought you here, you continued to wriggle your wrists to try and get free. Footsteps sounded out, moving closer by the second. “That the case? You get off on the shit that he does?” Without warning, your hair was yanked back, forcing your head back, and pain to worsen again. A cry slipped from you before you could stop it. That's when you tasted blood in your mouth. The stickiness on the side of your head had to be blood.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Bullshit!” He used the hold that he had on your hair to force you to your feet, no other choice in the matter to avoid any additional pain. “That fuck killed my friends, tried to kill me. Too bad for him that I survived. Me and my girl. So, now is time for some payback. We came prepared and you are the key to that.” He kept talking like what he was saying was supposed to make sense to you.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” you pleaded, hoping the man would either believe you or at least give you a little more context as to what was going on. If you knew what he was referring to, maybe you could talk your way out of it. Maybe. But if he had kidnapped you and had hurt you, it was likely not something that you could talk your way out of, but you would give it a try.

“You don't know what I'm talking about, huh? Maybe if you see his work then you'll remember. This is your home after all since you're his bitch, isn't it?” He pulled you forward before forcing you to sit down at a table. To your horror, your son was tied up to a seat across from you. Michael seemed to be knocked out, or sleeping. There wasn't any markings that you could see but it still didn't stop the rush of emotions that came over you.

“Listen, you can do whatever you want to me. I don't care. Just….leave him out of it. He's an innocent boy.” You struggled against the hold and the restraints with a renewed vigor. That only pissed the man off further, and the next thing that you knew, you were slammed face down. There was an audible crunch, and blood filled filled your mouth as it poured down from your broken nose. The pain caused your eyes to water and a small sob to escape.

“You think I care about any of that? You're both connected to him, so you both get the same treatment. He needs to know what it's like to lose.” Your heart just about stopped in your chest, despite the dizziness that caused the room to spin around you as your head was yanked back once more. “Now, I think you need a little taste of what my friends and I experienced.” You had no clue what that actually meant, but you knew it wasn't any good. Ears ringing still from the blow to your head, you missed the fact that he stepped away. There was rummaging behind you and then metal hitting metal that made you flinch.

Michael began to stir and your heart leapt into your throat. No. If he saw any of this….

Something rumbled in the distance. The man behind you laughed.

“Right on time.” He cut the restraints on your wrists and yanked one of your hands forward. You struggled against his hold but couldn't break out of it, even as you nearly fell out of the seat. A metal spike was driving through the top of your hand into the table. The pain was jarring. Hot, intense, and overwhelming, causing your vision to blacken at the edges. The scream that came from you was reactionary, a response that couldn't have been controlled and enough to wake up Michael.

“Mommy!” Shit. The nerves were on fire, and it radiated up your arm. Muscles spasmed, causing your fingers to twitch uncontrollably. The man moved towards Michael.

“No, no! Don't touch him!” The words choked through your pained sobs, tearing a raw spot in your throat. Shaky legs held your weight against all odds as you stood up. There was no chance there you could reach across the table and stop whatever was about to happen. Even as you tried, despite the way that it caused sheer agony to yourself. You couldn't let the man touch your son. Even seeing the fingers trail through your son's hair was enough to make your blood boil. “Mike, it's going to be okay, baby.” He was already crying, and you knew that there was only so much you could do to reassure him in the moment. The room wobbled around you, blackness creeping further into the edges of your vision.

He had mentioned something about another person, and the thought came to your attention. Where were they? Potentially others. As in more than one. A scream came from behind you, somewhere in the depths of the barn looking thing that you were in, and it caught his attention. It was a minor miracle that his hands came away from Michael. Though, that relief was short-lived when he produced a pistol from the back of his pants. His attention had been fully pulled away from the two of you. As he moved from the table, you tried to watch him, confirming that he wouldn't look. More screams before he was hollering out names. Ones you didn't care about.

“Michael, baby, I need you to close your eyes, okay? Please, just listen to Mommy. I promise everything is going to be okay.” You needed him not to watch what was about to happen. He nodded, sniffling, but ended up listening to you. Gritting your teeth, you grabbed at the metal spike that was keeping your hand pinned to the table. There was enough, just enough, for you to grab. Biting in the inside of your cheek and on your tongue in an effort to muffle the pained noises, you tried to yank it out. Getting free from the table was imperative to your health. More voices began to sound out, causing your hand to slip. “Shit…”

“Easy there, darling.” You jumped at the sound of the familiar voice, tugging at the wound and causing another cry to slip. “Shit, don’t move.” The warm familiar touch pressed into your lower back, and a low hiss came from the man as he inspected the wound on your hand. He murmured a soft apology and did what you had just attempted to do. His large hand, already covered in blood, dwarfed your own. He made it seem like the spike was nothing. It hurt just as badly as it came out as it had when it had been rammed into your hand. He pulled a rag from a pocket and quickly wrapped it around your hand. If you didn't focus on the movement of his hands, there was a significant risk that you would fall to the floor, feeling the way that your legs shook. His touch was gentle, seemingly going through familiar actions as they never faltered as he wrapped the rag tightly around your hand.

“Need you to listen, okay? Get Michael out of that seat.. Can you do that for me?” You gave a shaky nod, knowing that if you didn't get your son out of the seat, it wouldn't be good for either of you. “Good. Get him out of the seat and then find a spot to hide. I don't want them getting to you again. I'll find you soon, and we'll get you patched up.” His hands cupped your cheeks gently, taking in the bloody mess your face had become. There was something else he wanted to say, the familiar hesitant look coming over his face. Thumbs brushed softly over your cheeks. He had always been gentle with you. They dropped away, and he let you do what was needed.

Rusty watched her shift towards a darkened corner, behind some junk that remained inside the barn. The one place that she should have never been. With her and Michael safe for the time being, he could turn his attention back to the few that remained inside with them. None of them would survive the night. That much was certain. They touched what was his, harmed her, and risked harm to the boy. He had to shift gears quickly once more and go back to the anger that had been present from the moment he had found them missing at the restaurant. He had no doubt that she would have just disappeared on him, and that instinct had been right.

There would be explaining that needed to get done later, but it was hardly a worry. She couldn't go anywhere. There were two of the group already dead. He didn't know how many were left. At least another three, judging by the cars out back and the walkie system that they had set up. He grabbed the spike that had been shoved through her hand and pocketed it before shifting back through the quiet of the old barn. Their downfall? They didn't know every inch of wood like the back of their hand. It was different from anything he had dealt with before since he was worried about the two bodies in the corner rather than focused on wiping out everything that moved. He didn't have time to plan, time to use to his advantage. But it hardly mattered. Improvisation would have to work for now.

Silently, he slipped through the space, fingers curling around an old rusty metal pipe flecked with the blood of previous victims. Rusty paused, careful with the sounds around him. One was close.

Under normal circumstances, there was a sense of enjoyment in the actions. The swinging of fists, the gurgling cries and pleas, the warmth of blood as it soaked his hands and clothes. A sense of poetic justice that he delved out for discretions committed by those that just wouldn't learn otherwise. But this? This was entirely different. The movements were almost autopilot. His focus was getting through the entire ordeal as quickly as possible. He wanted to get back to far more important matters, which were huddled hidden in a corner. Crimson slowly coated hands further, violence unleashed in the brutal manner that left no question of what the outcome would be.

When the last one fell, Rusty let out a huff and glanced down at the body before him. Fucking asshole. He hadn't gotten away this time. The thought brought the realization that he had brought this upon both of the people that mattered the most in his life. Guilt and worry churned in his gut now that the job had been done. The barn could be cleaned up later. He had others to take care of and that would require a hospital given the extent of injuries he had seen.

You shook as you clutched your son to you, trying to cover his ears and shield him from whatever horrors were happening beyond the darkness that concealed the both of you. Adrenaline was wearing off, and the blood loss combined with head trauma had left you feeling woozy. All you could really do was rock your son gently and try to assure him everything was going to be okay through the quiet crying he was doing. Even when it wasn't. There was no way things could be okay. Heavy footsteps came closer to your hiding spot, and you scooted backward, pressed tightly into the tiny corner. It was instinctual that your torso shifted, protecting Michael as much as possible from whatever was about to come.

It was Rusty. The large frame of the man appeared and unconsciously, even though you didn't want to, your body relaxed. He was at the end of the junk pile that you had taken refuge behind.

“It's okay now, darling. Come on. Need you to come on out for me. Okay? Gotta get you, and Michael looked at.” Looked at? The room spun around you, the words sounding further away and more fuzzy by the second. “Sweetheart I…” The rest of the words couldn't be made out, hell, you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore. There was wriggling and the weight against your chest and in your lap vanished. All before the blackness at the corners of your vision seeped inward and overtook everything.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

So a poly ship I haven't written before for Multi-May-

thoughts?