|| cletus and tucker having some fun with you ||
cletus & tucker f!reader (nsfw)
Summary: Trapped in a decaying roadside motel after your gambling-addict brother Simon fails to pay his debts, you become the unwilling plaything of Wade’s two most unhinged enforcers. Tucker—the quiet, brain-damaged Southerner with a crowbar—and Cletus—the twitchy, meth-addled sadist with a scissor-shiv—decide to collect payment in flesh instead of cash.
Warnings ⚠️: kidnapping, weapon violence, psychological terror, blood play, choking, forced orgasms, degradation, rough handling, threats of death, dirty talk, knife, forced stripping, double penetration, facial, creampie, cum play, hair pulling, slapping, spitting, breath play, overstimulation, verbal humiliation.
Rain hammered the motel roof like nails. You were on your knees in the middle of Room 9, the cheap carpet scratching raw against your bare thighs. The single bulb overhead flickered, throwing long shadows across Tucker’s ripped denim overalls and Cletus’s filthy wife-beater. Both men circled you like wolves that had already tasted blood.
Tucker’s southern drawl came first, low and almost gentle if you ignored the crowbar resting on his shoulder. “Now, sugar, ain’t no sense in fightin’. Ol’ Wade said we could have our fun long as we don’t break the merchandise too bad.”
His blue eyes were glassy, the patch of missing hair on the back of his skull catching the light. He nudged your chin up with the curved end of the crowbar, forcing you to look at the scorpion tattoo flexing on his forearm every time he breathed.
Cletus giggled, high and cracked, pupils blown wide from whatever he’d snorted in the office. “She’s prettier than Simon, ain’t she? Bet her cunt’s tighter too.” He crouched in front of you, the scissor-shiv glinting between his fingers.
With deliberate slowness he dragged the cold metal tip down the center of your shirt, slicing fabric and bra in one smooth motion. Your breasts spilled free; Cletus’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Fuckin’ look at those tits. Gonna mark ‘em up real nice.”
Tucker’s free hand—big, calloused, smelling of motor oil—cupped your left breast, thumb rolling over the nipple until it stiffened despite your fear. “She’s shakin’ already. Cute.” He gave a squeeze that bordered on bruising, then let go only to press the flat of the crowbar between your thighs, forcing your legs wider.
The cold steel kissed your panties, and you felt the damp spot you hated yourself for. Tucker noticed. “Well now… pussy’s gettin’ wet for the men who might kill her brother. Ain’t that somethin’.”
Cletus didn’t wait for permission. He sliced the rest of your clothes away with three quick snips, leaving you naked and trembling. The moment your panties hit the floor he shoved two dirty fingers straight into your cunt, pumping hard enough to make your hips jerk. “Goddamn, she’s soaked. Tucker, you gotta feel this.”
Tucker traded the crowbar for his own hand, sliding two thicker fingers in beside Cletus’s. The stretch burned; you whimpered, thighs quivering. Both men finger-fucked you in tandem, knuckles bumping, scissoring your walls open while they watched your face.
Tucker’s voice stayed soft, almost fond. “Gonna stretch this pretty hole real wide ‘fore we’re done. Think she can take both our cocks at once?”
Cletus answered by spitting on your clit and rubbing it with his thumb, the wet sound obscene in the small room. “She’ll take whatever we give her. Won’t you, slut?” He slapped your face lightly, then again, harder, leaving a red print. Your eyes watered; he grinned like he’d been given a gift.
They dragged you onto the bed—stained sheets, cigarette-burned mattress—and flipped you onto your stomach. Tucker spread your ass cheeks and spat on your hole. Two fingers pushed in dry, scissoring, prepping you with zero mercy.
“Gonna fuck this ass first,” Tucker announced, voice still conversational. He lined up his thick, veiny cock—already leaking—and drove in with one brutal thrust. Your scream echoed off the walls.
Tucker didn’t stop; he bottomed out, balls slapping your clit, then started a slow, grinding pace that forced your walls to stretch around every ridge. Each roll of his hips punched another inch deeper until you felt him in your guts.
Cletus climbed up, knees bracketing your head, and fed his cock between your lips without warning. He tasted like sweat and copper. “Suck it good or I start cuttin’.” You gagged as he thrust straight to the back of your throat, nose mashed against his sparse pubes. Meanwhile Tucker kept pounding your ass, the wet slap of skin loud and constant.
Cletus pulled out of your mouth only to slap his spit-slick cock against your cheeks. “My turn in the pussy.” They flipped you again—onto your back this time—your body still trembling from Tucker’s thrusts.
Cletus shoved your knees to your chest and speared into your cunt in one thrust, the angle making you see stars. Tucker straddled your face, feeding his ass-flavored cock down your throat. You tasted yourself on him, felt him twitch every time you gagged.
They used you like a toy for what felt like hours. Cletus pounded your pussy raw while Tucker fucked your throat until tears and spit soaked your hair. When Cletus came he didn’t pull out; he buried himself to the hilt and pumped you full, hot cum flooding your womb. Tucker followed seconds later, pulling free to paint thick ropes across your face and tits, marking you like property.
But they weren’t finished.
Tucker produced a small brown bottle—poppers—and waved it under your nose. The chemical rush hit like lightning; your whole body went loose and burning. Cletus used the moment to work three fingers, then four, then his entire fist into your wrecked cunt.
You came so hard you squirted around his wrist, vision whiting out. Tucker laughed softly, almost sweetly, and pushed his still-hard cock back into your ass while Cletus kept fisting your front hole. The double penetration was too much; you thrashed, but the men held you down. They fucked you through another orgasm, then another, until your voice was hoarse from screaming.
Eventually they repositioned—spooning you between them on the narrow bed. Tucker slid back into your ass from behind while Cletus took your pussy again, both men rutting in tandem, cocks separated by nothing but a thin wall of flesh.
Every thrust punched a broken moan out of you. Tucker’s hand found your throat, squeezing just enough to make the edges of your vision sparkle. “That’s it, sugar. Cum on our cocks one more time.”
You did—body convulsing, cunt and ass clenching rhythmically around them—until they filled you again, cum leaking out around their shafts in thick white rivulets.
When they finally pulled out, Cletus scooped the mess with his fingers and fed it to you, making you lick him clean while Tucker watched with glassy, satisfied eyes.
Outside, the folksy music finally wound down. Tucker stroked your hair almost tenderly, crowbar resting across his lap. “Reckon you paid Simon’s debt tonight, darlin’. But Wade might want interest tomorrow…” He smiled behind the red bandana, blue eyes empty and bright. “Sleep tight.”
Cletus was already lighting a cigarette, smoke curling toward the water-stained ceiling. Your body throbbed—used, marked, dripping—and the night was far from over.
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Gifs are not mine credits to @vendettavalor
Tags: @tannywammy @porcupiss @princepuddlepaws @romnctics @xellnikov @tacticalhimbo
