XTC

fem!reader x james cook x eric love

smut┃threesome┃doggy style┃tipsy sex┃blowjob┃mdni 18+

a/n: a little treat for yall <3 no beta reader, fuck it, we ball!

You went out for the night to reward yourself after a long week of working. You didn’t plan to take anyone home, let alone two men.

They approached you on the dance floor. 

The bass was a deep, gut-rattling pulse that vibrated up from the soles of your feet. You were lost in it:  tipsy, eyes closed, your body conversing with the beat—a raw, primal dialogue of sweat and rhythm. Then a presence materialized at your periphery, a shift in the air pressure. You didn't open your eyes, but your body registered it. You slowed your movements, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. 

It was Cook. 

He stood at your side, all sharp angles and restless energy, a wiry frame clad in a tight-fitting t-shirt that showed off the lean muscle of his arms. He held your gaze, his glossy eyes dark and appraising. The lazy smirk on his face was perfect—arrogant. Another figure moved into the space on your other side. Eric. He was different. Quieter. Coiled like a spring, with a powerful build and a flat and intense heavy-lidded stare, a gaze that missed nothing. 

The air crackled between the three of you, thick with unspoken promises. You felt a thrill, sharp and exhilarating. You didn’t say anything; you let your body do the talking. You turned slightly, your back brushing against Cook’s chest as you faced Eric fully. The move was a challenge, an offering.

Cook accepted instantly. His hands find your hips, pulling you back against him with confident pressure. His body was solid and warm against yours, moving with a languid, sensual grace that contrasted starkly with his usual chaotic energy. 

Eric stepped forward, closing the small gap between you. His hands were rougher, his grip more insistent, as he settled them on your waist. He didn't have Cook's same practiced smoothness; his movements were sharper, more demanding. He pressed against you, pushing you back against Cook, who rolled his hips against yours—a slow grind that matched the deep thrum of the bass.

You were caught in a succulent, heated pressure between two opposing forces that brought you to this moment—lewdly positioned on your elbows and knees in the center of your bed, back arched to an angle, your ass up to Cook's hammering hips. His cock stretched your drooling mess of a cunt, clenching around him every time his tip nudged your deepest walls.  

Eric lay in front of you. You're settled in between his thighs, his hand holds up your hair in a makeshift ponytail, his grip firm, but not painful. He kept your head steady while he fucked your face, his heavy cock dragged across your tongue, leaving your jaw aching. Spit ran down your chin, matching your eyes that streamed tears down your cheeks, ruining your mascara. 

Both rhythms were punishing, but sent waves flitting up your arched spine. 

The sounds in the room were obscene—the slap of skin against skin, the low grunts and groans from both men, your own muffled whimpers around Eric's length, and the wet squelch coming from both your mouth and pussy. You were trapped between them, used by them, every sense overwhelmed, and it felt so fucking good. 

You had already came twice, the tacky mess between your thighs proved it, but you could feel the pressure low in your belly building up again. 

"Fuck," Cook let out a breathless laugh, his voice ragged. "Her pussy is drivin’ me crazy, mate. Fuckin’ filthy."

His praise sent a jolt straight to your clit. 

Eric's response was a grunt. His hips bucked up, his cock hit the back of your throat, making you gurgle around his girth. "And her mouth's fuckin' magic."

Then your knees began to slip on the sheets. They slid further apart, changing the cant of your body, your chest pressing down. Cook’s tight grip on your hips kept your ass up. Each thrust hit deeper, driving you forward, pushing Eric’s cock deeper into your mouth, and forcing you to breathe harshly through your nose.

They both filled you up so perfectly, your eyes fluttered shut. You were lost in a haze of pleasure, your body a vessel for their shared lust. You could only clutch at the firm muscle of Eric’s thighs and moan, the vibrations making him hiss. 

Cook then leaned forward, one of his hands left your hip and snaked around your body, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves. He rubbed it in tight, fast circles, matching his ferocious strokes. 

The dual stimulation was too much. Your body began to tremble, your muscles clenching. The pressure inside you built from deep within to an unbearable peak, a tight coil of need ready to snap. 

"That's it," Cook growled, his thrusts becoming faster, more erratic. "Fuckin’ take it."

With a muffled moan, you shattered, your body convulsing as a blinding orgasm ripped through you. Your cunt clenched tightly around Cook, and with a loud groan, he followed you over the edge, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself deep inside you. 

Eric followed right after. His grip on your hair became almost painful. "Shit," he ground out, his voice a raw whisper. "I'm comin’."

He pulled out slightly, stroking himself once, twice, before you felt the hot, salty pulse of his release striping your tongue as he came with a shuddering groan.

For a long moment, the three of you stayed connected, a tangle of sweaty, sated limbs. Then, slowly, carefully, you collapsed onto the bed in a heap, your head resting on Eric's thigh, your limbs trembling, your body slick with sweat and their come. You were a mess, completely and thoroughly fucked, and you’d never felt more satisfied in your life.

Cook was already laughing, low and breathless, while Eric slumped back onto the bed, his chest heaving as he gently stroked your hair. You lie between them, your body humming with a pleasant ache, a lazy smile spreading across your face.

Cook then landed a sharp, playful smack on your ass. "Round two?" he asked, his voice already laced with renewed interest.

You just laughed, an airy, happy sound, and closed your eyes. "Give me a minute," you panted. "Then we'll see."

♡ mdni. cheating. nsfw.

6.

It’s Freddie’s birthday.

The house is packed. Music too loud, bodies everywhere, the floor sticky, the air thick with cheap alcohol and sweat.

Freddie’s already tipsy—cheeks flushed, grin soft and happy every time he looks at you like you’re the best part of his night.

i’ve just been noticing a lot of fics lately with decent enough likes but barely any reblogs, and it’s got me thinking. i know tumblr in general has changed and engagement isn’t what it used to be, but it does feel like we’ve hit some kind of snag.

and before anyone takes this the wrong way, this is not me being ungrateful. i’m always grateful for every single note. and i’ll write for jack whether a fic gets 1 note or 1000 because i genuinely love it here. i write self-indulgent jack fic about me and him too (don’t judge lmao) so clearly i’m not going anywhere.

but i also won’t lie and say it isn’t discouraging sometimes to spend hours or days on something and see very little interaction. not in a validation-seeking way, more in a “is anyone still out there?” way.

so here’s what i’m committing to on my end: i’m going to start sharing and reblogging way more fic and art. because if we want this fandom to stay alive and motivated, we have to engage with it. writers and artists don’t thrive in silence. if you love something, reblog it. comment on it. make noise about it.

i don’t want to pivot to more active fandoms just because the numbers look better. but i’d be lying if i said the thought hasn’t crossed my mind when i see the difference in engagement.

James Cook x fem!reader

summary: You go over to Cook’s to pay your dues, the only thing is, you forgot your wallet… how ever will you pay him back?

wc: # 4.1k 

warnings: drug use, smoking, crude language, begging, p in v sex, oral sex, fingering, lowkey extortion, cock riding, etc… mdni!! (light fluff at the end)

don't be shy, leave a like, comment, or reblog! ;)

You checked the time on your phone—twenty minutes until seven. You needed to head to Cook’s. Grabbing your bag, you tossed in your keys, lip gloss, and lighter. Just as you were about to add your wallet, your phone buzzed.

“Yes, yes, I’m leaving right now, Eff,” you answered.

“Oh, about that… something came up. Can’t go,” Effy said.

“Effy!” You groaned, dragging out the word. “I don’t wanna go to Cook’s by myself. I’ve never had to face him alone—and sober before.”

“Relax. He’s not that bad. And who knows? Maybe this time, instead of just eyefucking, you’ll actually do it.”

“Ugh, please. We don’t even eyefuck. We just flirt, that’s all,” you shot back, trying to sound firm.

You’d first met Cook at a party. One hit of his blunt had turned into a conversation. Effy was more into his mate Freddie, so you and Effy ended up bantering with the two of them. When you asked where Cook got his weed, he’d smirked and said, “Me. That’s what I do.” From then on, Cook became both yours and Effy’s supplier.

And of course, whenever you ran into him at a party, the flirting came easy—helped along by whatever liquid courage you’d downed and Effy’s egging you on. He noticed too. Every time he dropped something off at your flat, he’d slip in a free lighter, an extra joint, sometimes even edibles. You knew he didn’t hand out freebies like that to anyone else. Tonight, though, you weren’t just picking up—you were finally paying him back. Rumor had it, anyone who didn’t settle up on time wound up beaten and blue. For some reason, Cook had been lenient with you, and you still couldn’t figure out why.

“Alright, just tell Cook I’ll pay him next time I see him. Bye,” Effy cut in, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Later.” You hung up.

Defeated, you stepped out the door—leaving both your dignity and your wallet behind. Fifteen minutes later, you pulled up outside Cook’s flat. After parking, you walked to the entrance and knocked.

The door swung open to reveal some random guy. He towered over you, muscles straining under his shirt, his presence immediately imposing.

“I’m here for Cook,” you said, forcing your voice to stay steady despite the quiver threatening to slip through.

“Course ya are. He’s on the sofa.” He stepped aside, but not before letting his eyes drag shamelessly up and down your body.

You rolled your eyes and brushed past him, heat prickling your skin. Inwardly, you cursed yourself for ditching the ratty sweats and oversized tee you’d had on earlier. Low-rise track pants and a cropped low-cut tank top suddenly felt like the worst possible choice now.

Shaking your head, you forced yourself into the living room. Two unfamiliar boys sat at the table, their laughter cutting through the haze of smoke. You gave yourself a silent pep talk, nerves spiking at the thought of facing Cook alone.

Then you spotted the back of his head. Smirking, trying to gain false confidence, you crept up behind him and covered his eyes with your hands.

“Guess who…” you purred into his ear.

Cook dropped the blunt he’d been rolling onto the coffee table. “Hmm… sounds like my fittest customer finally showin’ up to pay her dues.”

“Aww, I’m the fittest?” You slipped your hands away and slid onto the sofa beside him, deliberately close.

“Course ya are,” he drawled, eyes trailing your body. “Ain’t like I hand out freebies to just anyone. How are ya princess?”

You tilted your chin with mock confidence. “Better now that I’m here.”

Cook let out a low chuckle, eyes glossy and low. “Yeah? No wonder you came dressed like that. Must’ve missed me proper.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, but you forced a scoff. 

“Where’s Eff?”

“Something came up,” you shrugged. “But she said she’ll pay you next time she sees you.”

Cook only nodded, reaching back to the table to finish rolling.

He lifted the blunt to his lips, sparking it with a flick before drawing in a deep inhale. Smoke curled from the corner of his mouth as he held it out to you.“You want?”

“How could I say no?” You smiled, reaching for it.

But instead, Cook caught your face in his hand. He took another drag, leaned in close, and exhaled straight into your mouth. The smoke burned your lungs, and it took everything not to cough it back out from shock.

“Good girl,” he murmured, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat.

You forced a nod, but your mask of confidence was slipping fast. Panic bubbled beneath your skin. You needed to leave. Digging through your purse, you pawed desperately for your wallet—but it wasn’t there. You knew you’d packed it. Heart pounding, you tore through the bag again and again, as if the sheer act of searching would make it appear.

Then it hit you—Effy had called, and you’d set it down.

Fuck.

Rumors whispered in your head: Cook beating people bloody when they missed their dues. Your gaze flicked to him—his split brow, the gash along his nose—and your blood ran cold.

You dragged a hand down your face. “Cook—funny thing, I accidentally left my wallet at home.” You tried to laugh, but it snagged in your throat and died there.

Cook’s glare didn’t budge. It made you feel small.

“Ah,” he muttered, eyes narrowing, “out, lads.”

The boys didn’t hesitate. They filed out, leaving you alone with him. The air felt heavier.

“I can’t just let you walk off without paying, can I?” His tone was almost casual, but his stare pinned you in place.

Your confidence collapsed. “C-Cook, please, you know me… either way I-I can’t pay without my wallet.”

He smirked, leaning back into the sofa, spreading his legs. “Oi, you can.”

Your stomach twisted. “W-what do you mean?”

Cook tipped his head back, eyes flicking over you with lazy amusement. “I mean…” He raised his hand, mimed the motion to his mouth, tongue pressing hard into his cheek. “…you could get on your knees, sort me out.”

The sick fuck wanted you to suck him off.

“You want me to suck you off?” Your cheeks burned hot with shame.

Cook only shrugged, casual as ever. “Seems fair, don’t it? Quicker than cash—and I’d hate to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

Shit. You froze, mind racing. Either suck Cook off, or… whatever he meant by that last bit.

He leaned forward, grin spreading ear to ear. “So what’s it gonna be, babe? You gonna put that mouth of yours to good use, or make me think of something else?”

Your chest sank with the weight of inevitability. You let out a shaky sigh and slid from the sofa onto your knees, looking up at him.

Your hands moved before you could think—unbuckling his belt, tugging his jeans and boxers down with trembling hesitation. His cock sprang free, hard and glistening.

Glaring up at him, Cook just leaned back, relaxed as a king, hands laced behind his head. A blunt clung to the corner of his lips, smoke curling as he looked down at you with lazy amusement.

“Atta girl,” he drawled. “Go on.”

Left with no choice, you wrapped your hand around his cock, stroking slowly and lightly. Cook let out a low groan, smug even in the sound.

You leaned forward, kitten-licking at his tip. His hand tangled in your hair, tugging.“Go on then, open up. Don’t get shy on me now.”

You parted your lips wider, and Cook wasted no time—shoving your head down, making you gag around him.

“Mhm—!” The noise vibrated through your throat, pulling a hiss from his lips. You bobbed your head, drool sliding messily down his shaft, coating your chin.

“Knew you’d fuckin’ take me like this, princess.” His grip in your hair tightened, yanking your head to his rhythm.

A moan slipped out of you, heat flooding between your thighs. Shame twisted inside as his cock pressed the back of your throat, making your eyes water.

“Oi, none of that.” His voice was a taunt, sharp and amused. “Keep them eyes open—wanna watch ‘em roll back for me.”

You forced your eyes open, glaring up at him through the blur. The sight made him groan, his chest heaving.

Pulling off for air, you fisted him with both hands, stroking fast.“Big, aren’t I?” he smirked down at you.

“Mhm… yeah,” you muttered, shy and breathless.

“Don’t worry, babe—I’ll take care of ya after.” He winked, tapping your cheek. “Mouth back on, yeah?”

You obeyed, taking him in again, faster this time. Your hands cupped his balls, squeezing gently as his pants and groans grew rougher. Then he slammed you down hard, burying himself deep. The force made your throat spasm around him—right as he came.

Warm, salty release slid down your throat. You swallowed quickly, some dripped out, sticky on your lips. You licked it clean, breath ragged.

Cook never looked away—his stare locked on you the whole time, a grin curling at the edges of his mouth.

You kept your eyes glued to your lap, cheeks hot and stupid with shame. Cook’s hand came up and caught your chin like a command. “Get up,” he said, voice honeyed. “Gonna take care of you, like I said.”

You sank back onto the sofa, deliberately putting distance between you and Cook. Still, your cheeks burned, and the ache low in your body hummed from what had just happened. Your mouth was as dry as the smoke-filled room.

“Open up, princess,” Cook drawled, leaning in as if to part your legs himself.

You lifted your foot and pressed it against his chest, pushing him back with a smirk. “I thought my debt was already paid,” you teased.

Cook’s grin only widened. He caught your ankle in his hand and yanked you closer with ease. “Your debt’s paid when I fuckin’ say it is.” In one smooth motion, he straddled you, tugging your track pants down without hesitation.

“He pressed a finger against your clothed clit, grinning. ‘Actin’ like you’re hard to get, when you’re drippin’ for me already,’ he chuckled.”

“Shut up and do something about it then.” You challenged.

Without hesitation, Cook ripped your panties away, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and spreading you wide for him. His finger traced lazily between your folds, pressing just barely inside before retreating, circling with deliberate torment until you whined.

“Why are you holding back?” you breathed.

He smirked. “Holdin’ back? Nah, babe—I’m just enjoyin’ watchin’ you squirm.”

“Cook… c’mon—just do it.”

“That’s all you got?” His tone dropped, cocky and cruelly patient. “You’re gonna have to beg harder than that.”

“Fuck—please, Cook.”

“Please what?” His grin widened, his finger barely grazing where you needed it. “C’mon, say it. You know what I wanna hear.”

“…Please, finger me,” you whispered.

“That’s my girl.” In an instant, he sank two more fingers into your slick, stretching you without warning. You cried out, your hips jolting forward, but he held you down with a firm grip.

“Look at you—already falling apart, and I’ve barely started,” he teased, lowering his face until his breath ghosted over your folds.

“Always wanted a taste of you…since the first time I saw you.”

His tongue flicked over your clit, circling while his fingers pumped deeper, the combination making your whole body tremble.

“God, you’re messy for me,” he murmured against you. “Bet you could come just from my mouth if I wanted to drag it out long enough.”

“S-shit—mhm!” you gasped, clutching his hair while he devoured you with a cocky hunger.

Cook was messy with it—his tongue lapping over your clit, hitting every spot with maddening precision. He glanced up at the sight of your chest heaving, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Should’ve made ya pay me back sooner if I knew how much of a slut you are,” he muttered against your folds, his thumb circling your clit aggressively. “Bet you would’ve liked that yeah? Would’ve liked me to—”

“Cook!” you cut him off breathlessly, “S-top talking—just keep… eating.”

That was enough to send him into a frenzy. He latched onto your clit with ruthless hunger, sucking firmly, his tongue flicking against you in steady, relentless strokes. Every movement was deliberate—sometimes soft and slow, making your body ache for more, then suddenly rough and fast, stealing the breath from your lungs. His fingers pushed harder while his tongue traced lazy figure-eights over your clit, drawing the tension tighter and tighter in your stomach.

Your thighs twitched, but he only dug his fingers into your hips, holding you in place while his mouth worked in perfect sync with the rhythm of his fingers plunging deeper inside you.

“Fuck… mhm—Cook…” you whimpered, your arms flailing against the cushions as the pressure built to a breaking point. He didn’t give you a second of reprieve—every flick of his tongue dragged you higher, every curl of his fingers pushed you closer until the knot inside you snapped.

One last hard suck on your clit and you shattered, crying out as you came across his tongue, your legs trembling violently.

“Y-yes—fuck, yes!” you cried out, your voice breaking into a high-pitched moan.

You then tried to push him away, but his grip only tightened, keeping you spread wide. His tongue slowed just for a moment—lazy licks up your folds, before he dove back in, harsher, hungrier, drinking you down like he couldn’t get enough.

“Cook! Stop, it’s t-too much…” you gasped, thighs squeezing weakly around his head, though both rested uselessly on his shoulders. “I-I can’t take it anymore!”

“You told me to keep fuckin’ eating…and I don’t quit what I start,” he growled low into you, his words vibrating against your clit.

The overstimulation was unbearable—every flick of his tongue had your whole body jolting, your fingers clawing the sofa cushions, your moans spilling out louder and louder as the heat consumed you. He alternated between gentle, torturous swirls of his tongue and sharp, greedy sucks, dragging you closer and closer to the edge again.

“I’m being serious—mhm—I c-can’t t-take it..” you groaned, your legs shaking violently.

“Stop naggin’,” he muttered, gripping your thighs tighter, keeping you trapped against his mouth.

You tried pushing at his head, but it only seemed to spur him on. His tongue drove deeper, lips locked to your clit, until your body jerked helplessly and you came again—harder, messier, spilling across his face.

Cook lapped up every drop like a dog, not wasting a single taste. When he finally pulled away, his mouth was dripping with you, his grin smug and wicked.

“Fuckin’ mouthy,” he drawled, swiping his tongue across his lips. “Good thing I like shutting you up.”

“You’re fuckin’ crazy,” you panted, still trying to catch your breath.

Cook only shrugged, leaning back on the couch with that smug grin. “Crazy, maybe. Still horny, though.”

“Course you are.” You rolled your eyes, teasing, though your lips twitched with a smile.

“Then quit starin’ and help me out, yeah?” He nodded toward his hard cock, shameless.

You tilted your head, eyes wide and playful. “So… is my debt finally getting paid?”

He smirked, motioning you closer. “Depends. We’ll see if you’re worth the price.”

You swung a leg over him, straddling his lap. Both hands cupped his face as his arms locked firmly around your back, pulling you into him. His mouth crashed onto yours, tongues tangling, saliva slicking your lips as you ground against his length, chasing friction.

Cook broke away only to drag his lips down your neck, nipping along your skin. With a rough tug he stripped off your shirt and bra, pausing just long enough to admire the view.

“Well, fuck me,” he muttered, palming your breasts with greedy hands.

“That’s the plan, isn’t it?” you whispered against his ear.

His eyes darkened—hungry, feral. He dipped his head and latched onto your breast, sucking hard enough to make you gasp, determined to leave marks you’d wear tomorrow. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging as groans escaped your throat. He switched to your other nipple, teeth scraping before his lips sealed, leaving a glistening trail of spit between them when he finally pulled back.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he breathed, his voice dripping with want.

“Losing your cool, Cookie?” you teased, smirking.

He chuckled low, eyes locking onto yours. “Nah. But I’m about to make you lose yours, princess.”

“Now you’re gonna take me—” he murmured, lifting you slightly, positioning you right above him so his tip pressed teasingly against your slick entrance, “—and you’re gonna take me proper. None of that whinin’ bullshit, yeah?”

“Y-yeah…” you muttered, lips dragging down his neck, your body shuddering with need as he kept you hovering right there, making you wait.

With one swift motion, he sank you down beneath him- stretching you out slow and controlled.

“S-shit… tight little thing,” Cook groaned, head tipping back, though his smirk never faltered.

He rolled his hips deliberately, each drag of his cock making you whimper, then snapped his hips forward harder, faster, until the rhythm had you moaning uncontrollably.

You bit down on your bottom lip trying to keep yourself quiet, squeezing your eyes shut.

Cook’s voice cut through, sharp and amused. “What’d I say about keepin’ those eyes open, princess?”

You forced them open, meeting his gaze. His mouth crashed onto yours, a hungry, messy kiss, before he bottomed out, hitting you so deep you clawed your nails into his shoulders with a desperate cry.

“Mhm—fuck!” you moaned, your voice breaking.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he hissed into your neck, lips grazing your ear. “Feel so fuckin’ good wrapped around me. Y’know I was only jokin’ about you payin’ me back like this… but look at you—couldn’t wait to jump on my cock.”

Your cheeks flushed hot, eyes wide. “H-hmph… what?”

“Yup.” he popped the ‘p’ with a cocky grin. “Don’t lie. You wanted me this bad—you probably ‘forgot’ your wallet just to get fucked like this.” His hips slammed harder into you, making your protest dissolve into moans.

“N-no, I didn’t—” you tried to argue, but your voice broke, your body shuddering as he hit that sensitive spot deep inside. “C-cute that you think that, C-Cook…”

He laughed low, fucking you harder. “Cute? You’re moanin’ my name so loud the lads outside can probably hear every second of it. Actin’ like a proper slag, ridin’ me raw.”

The reminder made your stomach twist—you whimpered, realizing his friends were still just outside.

“Let ‘em hear,” Cook growled, his hand sliding between your bodies. He pressed two fingers to your clit, circling in sync with his thrusts. “Fuck it—let everyone hear who’s makin’ you fall apart this good.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you bounced hard on Cook, every drop of your weight slamming down onto his cock. You could only moan in response, bliss swallowing you whole.

Cook’s hand slid to your ass, spreading you wider before delivering a sharp slap that made you jolt. “Mhm…so tight. Feels so fuckin’ good, babe. Might start askin’ for more of these payments from ya.” His smirk was wicked, his voice rough with pleasure.

“Don’t stop—hmph—p-please,” you whined, hair sticking to your temples and the knot in your stomach blooming hot and sharp as your walls fluttered around him.

He leaned into your ear, groaning low. “Close, are ya? Can feel you squeezin’ already. You’re that easy for me?”

You nodded frantically, biting your lip, your body on the edge of breaking.

And then—he pulled you off.

Without warning.

Your eyes went wide as your body clenched at the sudden emptiness. “Cook! What the fuck!” you whined, your voice desperate and cracked.

He leaned back on the couch, hand stroking his slick cock lazily as he looked you up and down like you were something pathetic and perfect at once. “Told ya I don’t fuckin’ like whining,” he drawled, smirk cutting sharp. “And look at you now—shakin’, dripping, and twitchin’. Pathetic.”

You whimpered, trying to grind back onto him, but he held you hovering above his lap with iron grip.

“Not my fault you can’t handle it. I’m just curious how long it’ll take before you really break.” He tilted his head, eyes glittering with cruel amusement. “Bet you’ll beg me like a good little slut in less than a minute, huh. Wanna prove me wrong?”

“You’re such a fuckin’ tease, Cook,” you muttered, smacking his arm.

He only grinned, voice low in your ear. “Oi, ask nice, princess, and maybe I’ll give ya what you’re beggin’ for.”

“Please, Cook,” you groaned, impatience dripping from your tone. “You’ve made me beg enough. Just give me a break.”

He chuckled, grinding himself along your soaked entrance. “Break? There’s no fun in that. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous when you’re desperate.”

“Please, Cookie,” you whined, your voice cracking. “I’ll take you good—I promise.”

“Mmm, that’s what I like,” he drawled, smug as ever. “Love hearin’ you fall apart for me.” His tongue dragged across your cheek, pulling a sharp gasp from your throat.

Then he slammed into you again without warning, forcing a cry of his name from your lips as pain and pleasure tangled. Cook set the pace, bouncing you ruthlessly in a rhythm only he controlled.

“That’s it, babe—no other bloke can fuckin’ touch this. Burn that into your head, yeah? How much you need me.” Cook shoved you down harder onto him, pace turning rougher, more demanding.

You bit your lip, face twisting with pleasure, eyes rolling back. The knot inside you beginning to snap, and you moaned shamelessly into his ear. “C-Cook… j-just like that… mhmm—!”

“Yeah? Who’s makin’ you come like this, princess?” he taunted between thrusts, his mouth latching onto your neck.

“Y-you are… f-fuck, Cook…” you gasped, your release clawing closer.

His hips pounded up into you, thumb circling your clit as his tongue sucked bruises into your skin. It tipped you over—your body shuddering, soaking him as you came hard around him.

Cook laughed breathlessly, still driving into you. “So messy babe, drippin’ all over my cock.”

Your head flew back as he groaned, rutting through his own high until he spilled inside you, filling you to the brim. “Fuck… look what you made me do, finishin’ in ya like that.”

He pulled out slowly, a broken mewl slipping from your lips before he set you down beside him. Cook reached for his clothes with a grin that made your stomach flip.

“You’re stayin’ the night.”

“Um—what?” You blinked, still dazed.

“I said you’re stayin’ the night, princess.” He stood, tugging his jeans back on, voice casual like it wasn’t up for debate.

“Cook… I really shouldn’t,” you stammered, sheepish.

He chuckled, leaning down so his mouth brushed your ear. “You think I’m lettin’ you walk out after beggin’ on my cock like that? Nah. You’re mine tonight.”

Before you could even think about resisting, Cook scooped you up with ease, carrying you upstairs and into his room. He set you down on the bed, then disappeared into the hallway. When he returned, he had a damp towel in one hand, a pair of his boxers, and a hoodie in the other.

Without a word, Cook knelt between your thighs and began to clean you with the towel, his usual grin softening just slightly. “You were fuckin’ mint, you know that?”

“Thanks, Cook. Guess I could say the same about you.” You teased, sticking your tongue out playfully.

He rolled his eyes, tugging the clean boxers up your legs. “Funny. Put these on—I’m headin’ downstairs. Be right back.”

Left alone, you glanced around his room, still not fully processing everything that had just happened.

Cook returned a few minutes later with a glass of water and his rolling tray. “Perfect way to end the night, yeah?” he said, flopping down beside you and handing you the glass.

“Very much,” you sighed, gulping the water down gratefully.

Cook sparked a joint and held it to your lips, the two of you passing it back and forth, coughing and laughing lightly between hits. When it was finished, he tugged you against him, guiding your head to rest on his chest.

“Gonna need these payments every night, princess,” he murmured, circling his fingers lazily through your hair.

“I’m aware,” you whispered, voice soft against him.

Cook pressed a kiss to the top of your head, then flicked off the lamp. Wrapped in each other’s arms, the two of you drifted into sleep.

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