Summary: Your boyfriend and Cook hate each other. But that doesn’t stop Cook’s advances on you at a halloween party
warnings: crude language, fighting, drinking, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), piv sex, creampie, cheating on your bf lol, mdni
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“Get off him!” you shouted, grabbing at Cook’s arm as he straddled your boyfriend, landing punch after punch. With the help of two others, you finally managed to drag them apart.
“The fuck is your problem?” you snapped, shoving Cook hard in the chest.
“Oi, not my fault your bloke can’t keep his mouth shut.” He shrugged, smirking. “You should be thankin’ me for—”
“That’s enough outta you,” Joshua cut in, wiping the blood from his lip. “You’re lucky I didn’t want my girl watchin’ me give you a proper beatin’.”
“Yeah?” Cook mocked, arms raised as he just got caught. “Proper gentleman, you are.”
Joshua lunged, but you caught his arm before he could swing.
“Joshua! Leave it! Let’s just go,” you snapped, voice cracking.
He rolled his eyes, yanking his arm free before storming off down the sidewalk, away from the thumping music spilling out of the party.
Back at your flat — where Joshua crashed more nights than he admitted — he was pacing the living room, arms swinging like a madman.
“You know if you hadn’t held me back, I would’ve killed that bloke!” he shouted.
“Keep your voice down, yeah? I don’t need my neighbors complaining again.” You sank into the couch, bag of ice in hand. “Now, you mind tellin’ me what actually happened? I go to refill my drink, and next thing I see, Cook’s dragging you out onto the bloody pavement.”
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Joshua muttered, dropping beside you. His lip was split, nose bleeding, a bruise already blooming under his eye.
He shot you a glare. “And I’m still fuckin’ pissed at you — touchin’ that bastard like that.”
“I was getting him off you, Joshua. He was beating the shit outta you.”
“I was doin’ fine without your help.”
“Yeah, sure you were.” You stood up, heat rising in your chest.
“Well it’s fuck me for helping you!” you shouted, storming down the hall toward your room, slamming the door shut.
Your relationship with Joshua was barely holding together. He’d been sweet at first, but that didn’t last. More and more, you found yourself thinking about ending things.
A week later, Joshua was still in one of his moods. He’d move your stuff just to wind you up, leave the kitchen looking like a mess, and lock himself in the bathroom until you were pounding on the door, yelling for him to get out. Just to piss you off.
“You gonna start getting ready for the party or what?” you asked, wrapped in a towel, hair dripping onto the floor.
“Uh, yeah,” he muttered, eyes glued to the tv.
“Rhiannon’s gonna be here in an hour. Don’t make us late like last time,” you warned, already bracing for it. He always took longer than you anyway.
You went back to your room and laid your costume out on the bed. You’d always been a sucker for parties—especially costume ones. Halloween meant someone was bound to throw a rager, and this year, you’d planned the perfect duo: cheerleader and football player.
After glossing your lips, you gave yourself a once-over in the mirror. The skirt barely covered your ass, and the top showed just enough cleavage to make you grin. You grabbed your bag and stepped out, ready to drag Joshua out.
But there he was—still on the couch. Same spot. Beer spilled down his shirt, feet kicked up like he hadn’t moved in hours.
“What did I say?” you groaned. “Rhiannon’s gonna be here in five!”
He didn’t even flinch. “We’re not goin’ anymore.”
“I said—” He finally looked up, eyes glassy. “We’re not goin’. Especially not you. Not dressed like that.”
You just stared at him, dumbfounded. “I don’t know who you think you’re talkin’ to, but I am going. With or without you. You can figure out which it’s gonna be.”
“I told ya,” he said, rising from the couch, voice slurred but sharp. “We. Aren’t. Fuckin’. Goin’.”
Your jaw tightened. “This about Cook, then? You know he’s gonna be there, don’t you?”
His eyes flicked away, throat bobbing. “Tsk. No.” He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your stare.
You crossed your arms. “You’re such a shit liar, Joshua.”
“He’s bad news,” he snapped. “I don’t need you going out dressed like a slut—especially around him.”
You pressed your tongue to your cheek and let out a sharp breath. “You’re completely mental.” Your phone lit up with a notification—Rhiannon was outside. “You passed, Joshua. I’m going, end of story.”
You turned your back on him and slipped out the door.
“Go on then!” he shouted after you. “You know what? Don’t expect me to be here when you come back!”
You rolled your eyes and climbed into Rhiannon’s car.
“Hiya, sexy,” Rhiannon greeted, raising a brow as she popped her gum.
“Hey, Rhiannon,” you said with a smirk, admiring her Catwoman costume.
“Boyfriend taking too long again, or what?” she teased.
“He’s not coming,” you sighed. “Probably for the best—he’s been pissin’ me off lately.”
Rhiannon started the car and giggled. “S’cause Cook beat his ass at last week’s party?”
“He says no,” you said with a grin, “but that’s definitely the reason.”
The two of you pulled up outside a random flat across town. Music was thumping through the walls, and a steady stream of people spilled in and out of the place.
“I’m unquestionably getting shagged tonight,” Rhiannon declared, pushing her boobs higher in her tight leather top. “Can I count on you to do the same?”
You let out a small laugh. “I don’t think so. I still have a boyfriend, remember?” you said, stepping out of the car.
“Yeah, hardly,” she scoffed. “Just saying—if you do end up shagging someone, your secret’s safe with me.”
She hooked her arm through yours as the two of you headed inside.
As you walked in you were slapped in the face with smoke and the smell of alcohol and bad decisions.
“Well, there’s some proper eye candy,” Rhiannon whispered, nudging your arm as you squeezed down the crowded hallway.
“Yeah… sure is,” you breathed, eyes dragging over a shirtless firefighter, skin glistening under the cheap strobe lights.
You both stumbled into the kitchen, music pounding through the walls. Grinning, you grabbed a jug of something neon and poured two red cups to the brim.
“Cheers to lookin’ hot—” Rhiannon raised her cup, “—and gettin’ shagged!”
You laughed, clinking your cup against hers before knocking it back. It burned going down, sweet and sharp.
“I see my target,” she said, nodding toward a guy dressed as a cowboy. Her eyes widened. “Oh shit—he’s comin’ over.”
The cowboy introduced himself as Daniel, all dimples and confidence, and before you could blink, Rhiannon was being led toward the dance floor.
“You sure you’ll be alright on your own?” she called back, already half-gone.
“I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine,” you smirked, leaning in to whisper, “Now go get your cowboy, yeah?” You gave her a playful shove toward him before turning back to refill your drink.
“Well, what do we have here?” a familiar voice purred low in your ear, a hand sliding around your waist.
You spun sharply, coming face to face with none other than Cook — shirtless under an open robe, boxing gloves slung over his shoulder.
“Oh, piss off,” you snapped, glaring up at him.
“Where’s your lad?” he asked, leaning in, his arms braced on either side of you against the counter — caging you in.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you huffed sarcastically, giving his face a shove before brushing past him toward the doorway.
Cook caught your arm, spinning you back around, making your back hit the wall. “What? I’m just askin’,” he said, smirking. “If I were your lad, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave you alone.” He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “’Specially when you look so fuckin’ fit tonight.”
Your breath hitched — you hadn’t heard a compliment like that in ages. Joshua barely looked at you anymore, and for a split second, Cook’s words felt dangerous in all the right ways.
“Maybe that’s why you’re not my lad, then.”
“I could be,” Cook murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Just for tonight. Nobody has to know but me and you.”
“Hard pass.” You scoffed, though the idea lingered in the back of your mind.
“C’mon,” he said, voice low as he called your name. “When’s the last time your lad touched ya? Made you feel like a proper woman? Made you feel good?” His fingers grazed your thigh, barely there.
Heat rushed up your neck. “Th-that’s none of your business.” You hated how your voice wavered—hated even more that it’d been too long. Every time you and Joshua hooked up, it was just for him. He never cared whether you came or not.
Cook’s lips twitched. “We could slip into the upstairs bathroom,” he drawled, leaning closer. “Wouldn’t take long… unless you wanted it to.”
“I’m not fuckin’ you, Cook.” You tried to sound sharp, smirking, but it came out softer than you wanted.
He grinned, all mock innocence, eyes wide and teasing. “Didn’t say you were, love.”
Before he could get another word out, you cut him off. “Hey, what did you mean when you said I should be thanking you?”
Cook blinked, pretending to think. “For what?”
“The party,” you pressed. “When you beat up Joshua. You said I should be thanking you, but he interrupted before you could finish.”
“Ohhh, that,” Cook said, finally smirking again. “He was tryin’ to get with this girl, and I asked where you were. Bloke went off, started shoutin’. I joked I’d tell you, and he lost it. Punched me first, so I made sure he regretted it.”
You stared at him, jaw slack. “Unbelievable.” You scoffed. “That fucking wanker.”
He took a slow sip of his drink, eyes glinting. “Now you’re talkin’ sense, princess.”
Your mind spun — Joshua’s betrayal replaying in your head like a cruel echo. How Joshua never gave you any pleasure. You glanced at Cook, really looked at him. Somehow, you’d never noticed how dangerously attractive he was. Rhiannon’s words whispered in your mind: “Can I count on you to do the same?”
Before logic could catch up, you drained the rest of your drink and leaned in, lips brushing his ear.
“Well,” you murmured, “lead the way.”
Cook froze, brows lifting, an amused smirk spreading across his face. “Didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”
“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out already, Cook.” You traced a finger down his bare torso, lips forming a soft pout.
That snapped him out of it. With a low laugh, he caught your hand and tugged you up the stairs. He moved fast—too fast—and when you glanced back for witnesses, he yanked you inside, shut the door, and locked it with a click.
Then his hands were on your face, his lips everywhere—greedy, insistent.
“Calm down,” kiss “Cook,” kiss “I’m n-not goin’ anywhere.” kiss.
Cook wasn’t calming down — not with you standing there, looking like that. The hunger in his eyes was too sharp, too greedy.
“You talk too much,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. Then he caught your mouth in a kiss that silenced everything — impatient, consuming.
In one swift motion, Cook lifted you onto the counter, his grip sure, his presence overwhelming. His lips trailed up your neck, slow and deliberate, drawing a quiet sound from you that made him smirk.
“You’ve been good for me,” he said, his tone a dangerous promise. “Maybe it’s time I return the favor.”
You hesitated, uncertain what he meant, but his gaze told you enough — that he’d already made up his mind. The air between you thickened, heavy with anticipation.
Cook then sank to his knees and lifted your skirt making it bunch around your hips. He pressed a finger to your clothed clit and let out a guttural groan as if someone punched him.
“Bet your lad doesn’t get you this soaked, yeah?” He pulled your panties down until they were hanging around your ankles.
You swallowed hard, words catching in your throat.
“Say it,” he coaxed, while his face inched closer and closer to where you needed him the most.
He chuckled, the sound dark and self-satisfied. “That’s alright, sweetheart. Guess I’ll just have to show you what you’ve been missing.”
Cook didn’t waste another second—he dove in, his tongue greedy and deliberate, tracing slow, dizzying circles around your clit until you whimpered, your hips twitching toward his mouth.
“S-shit!” you gasped, slapping a hand over your mouth before anyone could hear.
Cook looked up at you through his lashes, smirking against your skin. He didn’t break eye contact, not even when he slid two fingers into your slick heat, curling them just right as his tongue kept working you over.
You couldn’t even remember the last time someone had gone down on you—certainly not Joshua.
“Oh my g—Cook…” Your voice cracked as your hips jerked up to meet his mouth, thighs trembling around his head.
He groaned low in his throat, savoring the taste of you. “Fuck, you’re soaked, princess,” he murmured, voice muffled against you. “Could drown in this if you let me.”
When he added another finger, you yelped, back arching.
“That’s it, love,” he teased, his tone a mix of praise and possession. “You’re doin’ so good for me. Taste so fuckin’ sweet.”
The stimulation—and his words—sent heat curling through your stomach. One hand clawed at the cold counter, the other clutching his shoulder as he pushed you higher.
“Y’so pretty like this,” Cook breathed against you, tongue flicking your clit in hard, rhythmic strokes as his fingers drove deeper, hitting that perfect spot that made you see stars.
You bit down hard on your bottom lip as that rare, hot pressure built in your stomach—then burst, spilling out against Cook’s lips. He groaned, drinking you in like he’d been starving for it.
“Mhm… C-Cook…” you stammered weakly, breathless.
Cook rose from his knees, his hands sliding up to grip your hips possessively before he kissed you, deep and messy, making sure you tasted yourself on his tongue.
He pulled back just enough to smirk. “Your turn now, princess,” he murmured, his voice thick with need. You didn’t have to look far to see what he meant—his cock was straining against his shorts, begging for attention.
You smiled, eyes dark with mischief, and palmed him through the fabric. “What do you need, Cook?” you purred.
He hissed at the contact, then suddenly yanked you off the counter and bent you forward, pressing your stomach flat against the cool surface. In the mirror, you caught your own reflection—flushed, hair wild, lips swollen—and behind you, Cook lowering his shorts and boxers, his cock heavy in his hand as he stroked himself leisurely.
“Take your top off,” he drawled, eyes dragging up your body. “Wanna see you—properly this time.” It wasn’t really a request. You nodded quickly, stripping off your top and bra, your chest rising and falling fast.
Cook leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “M’gonna give you everything that bloke never could,” he whispered, and before you could answer, he slid into you in one deep, ruthless thrust.
“F-fuck, Cook!” you cried out as his grip tightened—one hand locking around your hip, the other curling around your throat, forcing you to meet his eyes in the mirror.
“He doesn’t deserve this,” Cook growled, driving deeper, his breath ragged. “Doesn’t deserve you.”
He started to move faster, his thrusts growing deliberate and punishing, each one making you whimper louder.
“Christ, you squeeze my cock so good, princess,” he groaned, eyes burning into yours through the mirror. “Feels like you were made for me.”
His pace quickened, hips snapping against you in a perfect rhythm that made your vision blur, the pleasure threatening to drown you all over again.
His hands left your hips to find your breasts, gripping the soft weight with a possessive, hungry need. His thumbs circled your nipples, the friction causing them to immediately harden into tight pebbles under his touch.
“Look at ya, so fuckin’ pretty,” Cook rasped, his breath hot against your ear. His relentless pace never slowed, driving you up against the cool counter edge.
You could only manage a choked, breathless moan, every coherent thought dissolving into a haze of white-hot sensation. You could only feel him and the counter pressing into your skin.
As you began to reach your climax, Cook’s strokes started to slow. You whimpered in protest, trying to push back into him, but he just leaned down, his voice a low, wicked murmur.
Cook slowed just enough to make you squirm, his breath brushing your ear. “How ‘bout we take a picture,” he murmured, voice low and taunting, “send it to your lad?”
You blinked, breath hitching. “W-what?”
He chuckled darkly. “C’mon, sweetheart. Wouldn’t it be fun?” His eyes met yours in the mirror, that trademark smirk tugging at his lips. “Let him see what he’s missin’.”
A dizzying, forbidden rush flooded your senses. The idea was a thrill you hated to admit you wanted. Before you could even form a protest, he slid a finger down, finding your clit, and began to circle it with agonizing precision.
“I think you like that idea.” He heaved as you began to get even wetter against him.
“H-mmph—shit, fine. Do it!” you blurted, desperation overriding every other instinct.
A winning look flashed in his eyes. He immediately snatched your phone, fumbled through the camera app, and, without breaking his rhythm with his hand, captured the moment: you, bent over the counter, your expression twisted into ruined pleasure, his shadow dominating yours. He swiped to your messages. Joshua. Sent.
“H-he’s gonna be so mad,” you said through a breathless laugh.
“Don’t care,” Cook shrugged, completely unbothered, tossing the phone aside. He pulled out with a loud schlick—a sensation that made you cry out—and roughly spun you around. You were slumped against the counter, and he swiftly lifted you, spreading your legs open to settle you onto his cock again.
The new position stretched you even deeper, filling you completely. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed off the bathroom wall as he began to bully your clit again with his thumb, pressing and circling with rough intensity.
“S-shit! Cook! I’m gonna… gonna…” you howled, your legs shaking uncontrollably.
“Give it to me, babe. All of it. Don't you dare stop now,” he commanded, his voice a low growl in your ear, pushing you over the edge.
Your chest heaved as you broke into ragged sobs, the desperate, pathetic sounds of you losing control, and you shattered, climaxing hard and uncontrollably around his cock.
“That’s my good girl,” he slurred, with a winning smirk, following your release with a final, shuddering pump that drove him deep before he too came, spilling his heat into you.
He finally pulled out, and you whined at the sudden, empty feeling. Cook rested his heavy head on your shoulder, both of you breathing like you’d run a marathon, the chaotic heat of the moment finally settling into a shared, ragged exhaustion.
Cook grabbed some tissue paper, dampened it, and gently cleaned you up before you both redressed. Just as you were about to step back out into the party, he caught your arm, pulling you back. Without a word, he drew you into an embrace and kissed you again. You melted into it, returning the kiss deeply.
“Can you send me that picture?” Cook asked, his tone suddenly soft.
You rolled your eyes with a teasing smile. “What’s your number?”
He took your phone and entered it himself.
“Call me the second you dump your lad,” Cook said with a smirk. “’Cause we’re doin’ this again.”
“Will do,” you replied, giving him one last quick kiss before slipping out of the bathroom in search of Rhiannon.
You found her downstairs, perched comfortably on Daniel’s lap.
“You ready to go?” she asked, grinning.
The moment you stepped out into the street, Rhiannon turned to you with a mischievous glint. “Why was Joshua calling me hysterically? He said there’s a picture of you and Cook in the bathroom. Care to explain?” She giggled.
You facepalmed, then started laughing, suddenly remembering the picture Cook had sent. “I’ll explain in the car,” you said, still chuckling.
“I knew we were both gettin’ shagged!” Rhiannon shouted into the night air, her laughter echoing down the street.
a/n: soso sorry this took forever 😭 I literally had zero motivation to write. and I know I said I was posting my lion fic (which is almost done) but this idea came to me in a dream so yk I had to write it. thank you guys for the support it means so much to me, with that being said I hope you guys enjoy this one!!!!
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