#highoffxtc

cowboy!Remmick x fem!reader

summary: riding a mechanical bull at a bar leads you to end up riding the cowboy…

wc: # 2.1k 

warnings: porn w little plot, p in v sex, oral sex fem!receiving, crude language, drinking, praise kink, etc.. 

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

It’s cold. A sharp December-night kind of cold—and of course you’re in the shortest pair of denim shorts you own, cowboy boots clicking against the pavement. Fitting, since your friend insisted on meeting at the local cowboy bar. It used to be a quiet hole-in-the-wall; now it’s the go-to spot for people your age. Beer, line dancing, a mechanical bull—what more could you ask for?

You push through the door and pause, taking in the scene. The place is packed. Pool tables swarmed with people clutching drinks, laughter spilling over the felt. The dance floor is full of women showing off their moves while men watch them like hungry dogs. And right in the middle sits the mechanical bull—currently tossing around a guy who thinks he’s tougher than he is. He lasts all of three seconds before face-planting. 

You’re not exactly thrilled about meeting your friend here, but she was persistent, and you needed a break from the same old places. So you slip into an empty barstool and settle in.

“Can I get ya anything?” the bartender asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Just a whiskey and Coke, please.”

“Comin’ right up.” He flashes a friendly grin.

While he works, you check your phone—still no update from your friend. Of course. You roll your eyes just as your drink gets placed in front of you. You thank the bartender and take a small sip, savoring the sweet burn.

Turning your back to the counter, you rest your elbows on it and scan the room, hunting for one familiar face among a sea of cowboy hats.

“Is this seat taken?” a warm, honeyed country voice asks beside you.

You turn—and look up into blue eyes, sandy hair, a tall frame, and a smirk carved for trouble.

You sip your drink again. “Go ahead.”

He slides onto the stool. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ sittin’ here alone?” he drawls. “Don’t tell me someone went and stood you up.”

“I don’t get stood up,” you say, scoffing lightly. “I’m waiting for my friend.”

“Mm. That makes sense.” He tilts his head, amused. “Name’s Remmick. What do I call you, darlin’?”

You give him your name, and while doing so, take him in—cream cowboy hat, light-wash slacks, clean white tank, brown belt, boots that have definitely seen mud.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” Remmick says, lips curling into that slow, confident smile.

You smile and blush—it’s been awhile since you’ve been complimented by a guy that's your type. 

The bartender stepped up to take Remmick’s order.

“I’ll have what she’s havin’,” Remmick said, tipping his chin toward your drink. “And go on and get her a refill while you’re at it.”

The bartender nodded and moved down the bar.

You blinked, caught off guard by the way Remmick just… took care of that.

He noticed instantly. “What?” he teased. “I told you—I’m keepin’ you company till your friend shows. Figure we might as well wait with some drinks in our hands.”

“You’re smooth,” you laughed, finishing the last of your drink. “You tell that to every girl sitting alone?”

No,” Remmick drawled, leaning in just close enough to make your breath stutter. “Only the ones wearin’ denim shorts and orderin’ whiskey and Coke.”

Your laugh slipped out just as the bartender returned, setting two fresh drinks in front of you.

“So,” you said, taking yours, “what brings you out here tonight, Remmick?”

He took a slow sip, tongue catching a stray drop at the corner of his mouth—deliberately, because he knew you were watching. “Just lookin’ for a good time, sugar,” he said, voice warm and sinful. “And looks like I found it.”

Before you could react, his hand settled lightly on your thigh—confident, easy—and he nodded toward the center of the room.

“What d’you say? Wanna give that bull a go?”

You barked out a laugh, full and unrestrained. “Yeah, I don’t think so, cowboy. I’m not that drunk.” 

“Y’scared or what?” He teased.

“I hope you’re not challenging me Remmick, because I don’t lose.” You faced him, breath inching closer to his face with every word. 

“And if I am challengin’ ya, what are you gonna do about it darlin’?” Remmick purred dangerously close in your ear. 

You glared and smirked at him. You downed your drink in three gulps, snatched the hat on top of his head and sauntered to mechanical bull—feeling all eyes in you. 

The man operating the bull smelled of cigarettes and axe body spray, “Are ya sure you can handle the bull?” 

“Yes sir.” You asserted confidently.

“Alright, go on ahead.”

You entered the bouncy encagement— stumbling thanks to the alcohol and the unsteady ground. Pushing onto the bull, a small crowd formed to watch you, Remmick included. His eyes locked on yours as he fiddled with a toothpick between his teeth.

You put his hat on and held onto the bull with two arms. 

“Are ya ready?!” The man shouted.

You responded with a thumbs up and smile. The bull immediately started sawing back and forth. You swayed your body to level yourself. It started at a slow and steady pace— you felt comfortable enough to raise one hand and you started hearing cheers. Just when you were feeling confident— the bull started jerking aggressively, it did a complete one eighty trying to knock you off. 

You held on with both hands again as the bull started to lean forward exposing your ass in the air. Then the bull started to shake. Leaving your ass to shake in front of everyone including Remmick. You quickly lifted one hand on top of your head so the hat didn’t fly off. The operator let the crowd roar for a bit longer before returning you back to upright position.

The bull then started bucking back and forth, your body mimicking the motions. Remmick’s gaze never left you once. He studied how your body grinded against the bull and he felt himself getting hard. 

Rock hard.

He watched you like the whole bar had gone quiet, like the only thing worthy of his attention was the way you held on and kept riding. His eyes dragged over every shift of your body, slow and deliberate, heat simmering behind that lazy half-smirk.

The bull did one last harsh one eighty spin, knocking you to the plush floor. You laughed— stumbling to get up. Remmick rushed over to help you. 

“Great job, sugar. You sure did prove me wrong.” Remmick flattered you, extending an arm.

You took it, smiling, “Why thank you.” 

“With a ride like that you must be thirsty, let me get you another drink.”

 The realization that your friend most likely bailed on you set in, so you agreed, “I’d like that.” 

After what seemed like hours of drinking and conversing with Remmick— the two of you were drunk. Remmick couldn't help but whisper the things he wants to do with you.

“C’mon darlin’, let’s get outta here.” Remmick husked in your ear, tracing lazy circles on the inner part of your thigh. 

You didn’t say anything for a beat. And Remmick knew what you were doing— playing hard to get. He didn’t mind, he wanted you to make him wait, so when you finally let him, he can indulge in you harder. 

“Alright,” You finally spoke, softly, “where are we going?”

Remmick immediately took your arm and led you outside to an empty barn. 

“A-are we allowed in here?” 

“No, but no one's gonna walk in.” Remmick affirmed closing the two large barn doors. 

Before you could respond, Remmick closed in on you— kissing you, anyway but gently. 

“Careful, cowboy.” You rasped, trying your hardest not to stutter. 

 “Same goes for you, sweetheart.” He muttered in between kisses. He spotted a crate and carried you oh so effortlessly to place you on top of it. 

Remmick sank to his knees; then he fumbled with your belt. He shoved your shorts along with your panties down to your ankles. 

“Try your best to keep quiet.” 

“Wait Remmick wha-” You were quickly cut off by his tongue diving into your pussy. The flick of his tongue was ruthless. You gripped his shoulders while letting your head fall back.

“Rem- Remmick..” You whimpered, you didn’t know if it was the effects of the four whiskey and cokes you drank prior or just his tongue making you stupid. 

“I know I know, darlin’,” Remmick slurped, his voice muffled in between your legs, “Imma give it to you good, you just gotta be patient for me baby.” 

He moved his mouth to your clit, placed a kiss then started to suck. He then added a finger and curled it in your wetness. 

“God, you’re drippin’ for me, so wet and so sweet” He cooed, adding another finger. Remmick watched with complete admiration the way your face twisted in a moan every time he angled his finger just right. Or how your hips buckled against his face. 

“C’mon, say it back sugar, tell me how wet and sweet you are.” He murmured against you. 

You blushed at the request, but still followed through, “I’m s-so— fuck— wet and, and—ngh— s-sweet.” 

Remmick chuckled at you, “Such a good listener, good girl.” He continued to suck at your clit. 

You started to paw at his face, seeing stars and feeling that white-hot pressure deep in your stomach. “I-I… Rem- stop.” You managed to moan out. 

“Can’t even talk, can ya? My tongues just that fuckin’ good, ain’t it?” He rhetorically asked. 

Nodding your head, you started to buck your hips harder around Remmick’s face— twisting your fingers in his hair. 

He glanced up at you, moving his thumb to rub messy circles on your clit, then he stopped. He took his fingers out leaving your pussy wet, empty, and puffy. 

“Remmick…” You whined, trying to grind back on his face.

“Calm down baby, I’m just so jealous of that damn bull. This cowboy needs a ride too y’know.” He nodded, mouth still dripping with your slick. 

You nodded, a slow smirk pulling at your lips as he pulled you in for another kiss. Remmick eased back onto a flattened haystack, guiding you with him until you were straddling his hips. The two of you sank into each other—kissing hungrily, breaths panting, every touch more urgent than the last.

Remmick peeled off his shirt then yours and bra. He eagerly cupped your breasts while licking your nipple softly, earning a soft moan from your lips. He muttered something about seeing your tits bounce, and you unbuckled his belt and stripped off his jeans. 

His cock sprang free—precum already leaving out. Remmick started to stroke himself while you lifted yourself above his cock. You lifted your hips and sank into him, slowly, and you both moaned in unison. 

“S-shit, you’re squeezin’ me good, s-sugar.” Remmick groaned under you.

You have your hands on his chest, grinding yourself. You could feel him deep in your cervix and you knew that he wasn’t all the way in yet. 

“Don’t be shy, get up and ride cowgirl.” Remmick purred, slapping the side of your ass. He watched in amazement as you obeyed instantly—lifting yourself up and slamming back down. “T-that’s it—fuck.” Remmick hissed, taking off his cowboy hat and placing it on top of your head. 

“Look at ya, a real fuckin’ c-cowgirl.” 

Remmick’s cock stretched you out in a delicious agony. With each bounce, you felt him deeper and deeper. You felt each and every one of the veins on his cock— it started to drive you insane. 

“Y-you feel so— shit— good..” You whined, feeling euphoric. 

Remmick started to buck his hips up into you as a response. The pleasure was addictive. You couldn’t even think straight anymore. All your thoughts, interrupted by the feeling you got when he hit the sensitive spot deep inside. 

Before you could even register it— you squirted hard on Remmick’s cock. Your juices completely spilling all over, making a mess.

“Fuckin’ messy girl. Cowgirl got too fucked out on my cock, yeah?” Remmick teased as he continued to rut into you like a dog in heat. 

You bit your lip and shut your eyes in a mix of pleasure and embarrassment, “Re-Remmy, baby I-I — ngh— can’t.”

He ignored you, planted one firm hand on your hip and the other grinding his thumb on your still puffy clit. 

“I-I’m gettin’ close darlin’.” Remmick rasped, his hair sticking to his temples.

You whimpered and mewled as you felt that close white-hot pressure in your stomach for the third time tonight. 

Remmick hissed your name as he pounded into you, releasing his hot release deep inside of you. You followed, cumming onto his cock, still twitching side of you. 

Letting your weight sink onto him, you finally let yourself rest, exhaustion washing over you.

“You did so good, sugar.” Remmick praised you in your ear.

“Now let me get you cleaned up before someone walks in.”

James Cook x fem!reader

summary: you're the daughter of a rich ceo, spoiled rotten without a care in the world.  he needs quick cash, and you're the perfect target

warnings: crude language, fighting, porn w/ plot, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), piv sex, creampie, lowkey nonconish, kidnapping, american bimboish reader

wc: 2.5k

a/n: yay my dry spell is over! I promised u guys i would get a fic out this month 😋 in honor of my bday being tmr this is my gift to u all! I hope u guys like ittt💚💚

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

The sound of your name violently rang through your ears, slowly easing you awake.

Your fathers blaring shouts grew louder through the intercom system, disturbing your peaceful Sunday morning rest. 

“What?” You groaned, buzzing the intercom.

“Get your ass into my office now.” Your father demands coldly. 

You scowled into your pillow, getting up you already knew what he was going to yell at you for. You heard it countless times after a night out. Big deal; different week, same punishment.

Stepping into your slippers you trudged slowly down the halls until you reached his office door. You opened the door with a heavy sigh, looking everywhere but your fathers gaze. 

Instead of the usual ranting and blaming from your father, you were met with silence. Your father simply opened his laptop, faced it towards you and hit play. 

The video started with an interviewer looking inpatient then wide eyed, “Look! There she is!” 

The interviewer shouts your name, getting your attention. The video pans to you stumbling out of one of the hottest celebrity exclusive clubs with a crowd of your friends. Paparazzi bombarding right behind you— blinding you with flashing lights.

“Can I have a moment of your time, to ask you a few questions.” The interviewer asked through the video. 

“No, fuck off.” You slurred, obviously drunk out of your mind, pushing the lens of the camera away. 

“Aw, c’mon,” The interviewer grabbed your arm, “the people are dying to know, is London’s favorite foreigner black out drunk again?” 

“I said, fuck off!” Yanking your arm back and then knocking the camera onto the floor. 

“Yo!” The camera man yelled, “What the fuc—”

Your father shut the laptop closed. 

“Your little ‘stunts’ are messing with the family reputation— my reputation.” He huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We moved here to get away from your past.”

“Dad c’mon, that guy's an asshole!” you whined. “He follows me everywhere, like, that’s fucking weird. Right? Like you—”

“Quiet!” Your dad interrupted  mid-sentence, “This has been happening every single weekend! It is about time your actions had consequences.” He paused for a second, sighing, “So, your mother and I decided that; we’re temporarily cutting you off.” 

Your stomach dropped, there was no way this was happening. 

“You’re what?! You guys can’t be serious, right?” You wailed. 

“Our decision is final.” He exhaled into his hand. 

The sadness you were feeling quickly turned into a familiar anger. 

“Fine.” You scoffed. “Don’t need you guys anyway— always bitching at me.” You tried your best to sound unbothered as you stormed out of your dad's office. 

mth coming from the cigarette you just lit up. You’re crashing at your friends—walking there of course, getting cut off also includes no rides from the personal driver anymore.  

You pulled out your phone to text your friend when a white car you didn’t recognize rolled up beside you. Your stomach dropped. Without thinking, you picked up your pace, trying to shake the uneasy feeling crawling up your spine. The car kept moving slowly, matching your pace, until you turned off into a narrow alley.

It was darker there than you expected. A cat’s sharp yowl split the silence, making you flinch so hard your bag slipped from your shoulder and hit the ground.

“Fuck,” you muttered, crouching to grab it.

A heavy footstep sounded behind you.

You went still.

Slowly—carefully—you turned, afraid even the smallest movement might give you away. Nothing. The alley stood empty. Just shadows and dumpsters and your own pulse pounding in your ears. You exhaled, trying to blame it on stress. Getting kicked out wasn’t exactly calming.

You faced forward again—

And a man was sprinting straight at you, a cloth clenched in his hand.

Instinct took over. You ran.

You were fast—but he was faster. Much faster.

His fingers clamped around your arm, yanking you back as the cloth pressed hard against your mouth and nose. A sickly sweet smell filled your lungs. The world tilted. Your limbs went heavy.

“Don’t take this personal, sweetheart.”

Darkness swallowed everything.

You opened your eyes with a groan; you weren’t sure where you were. Bright lights coming from the ceiling disoriented you even more. Your head and pulse started to throb in sync. Picking your head up slowly, you tried pulling your hands towards your face only to find out that they were tied behind you. 

The fuck is going on?

You started to panic as you continued to struggle against the sturdy rope. It quickly dawned on you that it wasn’t only your hands, but also your feet that were bound together. Fear took over. You shouted with no hesitation, only to find out a thick ribbon muffled your screams.

The burning sensation of the rope piercing into your skin didn’t bother you as you attempted to free your hands.  The harder you tugged on the rope, the harder you groaned into the ribbon. You began to rock the chair you were trapped in back and forth, causing you to lose your balance and crash into the floor. You yelped in agony—falling onto your shoulder.  Looking around you noticed your surroundings, in the corner was a small bed along with a nightstand. You scanned the room for an exit, a window or small vent—but were interrupted by the sound of the door unlocking. 

“What’cha doin’ on the floor silly?” A foreign voice chuckled. He grabbed the top of the chair, lifting you from the floor. 

  “Why so quiet?”

You could only glare up at him as your nostrils flared in a mix of anger and confusion.

“Just teasin’ love.” He kidded as he kneeled down and pulled the ribbon down, exposing the bottom of your face. “There she is, y—”

You cut him off by spitting a load of saliva on his face.

His face immediately went dark as he wiped your spit from his face. The mysterious man scowled at you as he placed both his hands on both sides of the chair, trapping you between his arms. His breath tickled your skin as his face got closer to yours. You suddenly felt the wet sensation of his tongue dragging on your cheek. 

“What the fuck!” You jerked away as much as you could.

“Don’t feel good, do it?”

“Why am I here?” You questioned, trying to sound composed, even though you were the exact opposite. 

“Geez, you American girls are so fuckin’ proper,” he replied. “The names Cook, and I don’t want much from ya, my boss does.” 

“I don’t give a fuck about who you or your boss is ‘Cook’, when my dad finds me your both dead. ” You asked.

Cook scoffed as he pulled out a cigarette and lighter from his pocket, “That's plan.” He blew the smoke into your face, “Not the dyin’ part obviously.”

“What are you talking about?”

He grabbed a chair, flipped it and leaned on the headrest, “I need you to make a ransom video, for your parents of course. Once they see their poor helpless daughter bein’ held captive, they’ll do anythin’ to get her back. ”

You sat there completely speechless.

“That pretty little mouth of yours finally has nothing to say?” Cook smirked. “I just need ya to cry and beg— really up the dramatics y’know. Ask them to send money to a wired account for your release. Plain and easy.”

There was absolutely no way you were asking your parents for help. I mean you couldn’t, after what happened prior there was no shot that you would beg your parents for help. Your pride wouldn't let you. Even if it did, it’s not like they would believe you.

“Alright,” Cook abruptly stood up and threw his cigarette butt on the floor, snapping you out of your thoughts, “Let’s go make a movie shall we?”

Cook walked you to another room, it was white— plain, and cold. A metal desk sat in the middle along with a matching chair and a black tripod camera facing the desk.

“Sit.” He instructed. 

With now untied legs you trudged to the chair and slouched down. You scanned the room to find a window, door, vent, anything to escape, but to your demise there was nothing. 

“Okay, is my money maker ready?” Cook asked as he finished setting up the camera. 

You glared back at him.

“Remember I wanna see tears and beggin’. Three, two, one, action!” He emphasized behind the camera.

His enthusiasm was met with a yawn. 

Cook huffed out a sigh of frustration, “Alright, take two.” 

“I need water,  I’m parched.” You smirked.

“Oi, c’mon, stop fuckin’ around. Faster you get this done, faster ya get to home love.”

“Oi,” you mocked him, “You can fuck off, I’m not helping you or that asshole boss of yours.” You affirmed.

Cook was starting to lose his patience. He rubbed his temples, “I’m not askin’ ya for your help.” 

“Good, cus I’m not giving it to you.” you argued standing up from the chair. “I’m done with this! Done with you and your bull-”

You were cut off when he lunged at you. In a split second, Cook was behind you. His hand slammed against the metal desk while the other forced your neck down, pressing your face into the back of his hand. You struggled to push yourself up, but his weight pinned you in place—his sternum locking you into a tight hold.

“Got nothin’ else to say, yeah?” He quipped into your ear. “I’m tryin’ to do my job but you’re makin’ it so fuckin’ difficult by bein’ a bitch. Quit it.” 

“Get o-off of me.” You stuttered, you could feel your heart rate picking up by the second. 

“Why? Y’scared?” Cook whispered down your neck. “I dunno, this positions kinda growin’ on me.” He spread your legs open with his. “Is this gonna make ya behave?”

Your breath hitched before you could stop it. 

“Thought so.”

Cook pulled off your bottoms with no hesitation. He muttered a soft fuck as he saw how revealing your panties were. 

“W-what are you doing?” You shrieked. 

“Don’t act like ya better than this, sweetheart, ya fuckin’ soaked.” Cook joked as he rubbed your clothed folds. 

“I forget how easy you American girls are, so fuckin’ needy.” He growled as he sucked bruises on your neck. 

You tried to wrestle out of his grasp—but his sternum held in place, unable to move. 

“You’re absolutely disgusting.” 

“I know, shut up.” Cook ripped your panties off in one tear, and shoved two fingers in with zero deliberation. “Fuck!” He snarled

A moan escaped your lips, “C-cook, stop this…” You blurted out as his fingers pumped in and out of you. 

“That’s it princess, say my name again.” He chuckled cockily. His thumb found your clit and began stroking in a rapid manner. 

You couldn't admit to yourself that the pleasure you were feeling was immaculate. You hated how good his fingers felt. With your hands still tied behind your back you could only dig your nails into your palms as you whined against him, obliviously grinding against him. 

“Whats the matter, sweetheart?” he pumped in another finger, “This is for your own good, you’re so stubborn.” 

“You’re a f-fucking repulsive.” You mewled as he pinched your clit. 

“Nah, ya haven't seen shit yet.”

“Wha-”

Cook immediately sank onto his knees and replaced his fingers with his mouth. His tongue latched onto your clit sucking noticeably. Your legs started to twitch—unable to handle the immense pleasure Cook was making you feel. 

“Oh my god!” You whimpered, drooling onto the desk.

You could physically feel Cook smirk in your folds as he kept his persistent speed. The knot that was building low in your stomach finally snapped, your juices coated Cook’s face and he lapped them up like a starving dog. 

“Not so “repulsive” now, am I.” He snickered as he stood up.

You stayed silent and turned your face away—inacaple of making eye content with the man who just ate you ate as if his life depended on it.

Cook grabbed your jaw and forced you to meet his gaze. “Ya still need more?”

He lightly tapped your cheek as he turned the camera back on. You peered up at the red blinking light. 

“Might as well make a new kind of video, yeah?” Cook chuckled darkly behind you. 

“We’d go viral; “stubborn bitch gets pounded cus she can’t listen.” Cook laughed at his own words. “It’s got a nice ring to it, yeah princess?”

“Don’t e-even think about it, you perv.” 

“I don’t think,” he breathed into your ear, “I act.” Cook asserted while slapping your ass. 

You winced at the sharp pain— trying to free your hands. Cook immediately clocked your actions and pinned your wrist behind your back, “Nuh uh, ya still cuffed up sweetheart.” He smirked.

You then heard the jingle of Cook undoing his belt from behind, followed by a throaty groan. Turning behind you, Cook palmed his cock slowly inching it closer to your entrance. 

“I already you’re gonna take me so fuckin’ good.” 

You tried to answer— but the words got stuck in your throat. 

“Tch, so fuckin mouthy when I met ya, now I can’t get ya to talk.” Cook slapped this tip of his cock on your back, making you tense up. “Tell me.. tell me ya you're gonna take me good.”

Glancing away from him, you started to dig your nails into your palms. Cook started to spread your legs with his knees. “Oi, go on.” His tone was getting eager, like a dog waiting for his bone. 

“I-I’m gonna take you good.” You muttered meekly. 

That was all Cook needed to push himself all the way into you. His pace wasn’t slow either. One hand was holding the back of your neck while the other was spreading your ass cheek. 

“Ngh! Ho— Oh my go—” You sobbed, feeling your eyes tearing up. 

“Aww, poor baby don’t tell me ya gonna cry?” Cook leaned in closer into your ear, “I fuckin’ love it when pretty girls cry.” He cooed while licking a stray tear that fell from your face. Cook then snaked his thumb to your clit and grazed it, adding more pressure. 

“No! Mhm, stop— st-op it!” You moaned feeling your release on the edge. 

Your complaints only impelled Cook to pump into you faster, your whole body twitched as you came. 

 Even with your come dripping down your legs, Cook’s pace remained the same, if anything he started to go faster. 

“Look at what a mess ya made,” He snarked, “I wonder what your parents will think seeing their daughter like this— such a messy girl.” 

You could only whimper in response, already fucked out, your legs barely supporting your weight and already on the brink of being on your second release. 

“You’re gonna cum again, already?” Cook teased. He muttered something along the lines of “fuckin’ unbelievable,” and continued his pace. With one last thrust, the both of you came, groaning in unison. Cook pulled out at the last second— shooting ribbons of his load all over your back, causing you to shiver. Cook walked over to the camera, taking it off the tripod. 

He grabbed your jaw, recording your tear-stained face while smirking. Cook then walked behind you, rubbing the mess he made all over your back. 

“Fuck babe, looks like we gotta make another video, cus this one’s for just for me.”