#Bull Riding specifically

[oorangesoda]

Although I have crippling art block I need you guys to know Bull-Rider Callum exists and will be made real… it’s been festering in my mind for too long…

[heliotrope155]

Cas would have a fucking aneurysm if he knew all the gay shit Dean gets up to specifically when he's not there. "Thirsting over Dr.Sexy? What's this about riding a mechanical bull? Your siren was a man?? Why is Sam telling me about how gleeful you were about our friendship under amnesia? You tried dying when I wasn't here (followed by: wait till I fucking kill you)?? Who was your gay thing Dean and will there be another? You told a murderous alter ego Zachariah cooked up a story about pink panties but not me? Orgies?! You helped Charlie flirt with a man, help me please, I need to flirt with a man too."

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit

word count: 4.1k

summary: joel agrees to go out to tommy’s favorite bar, where he watches you ride a mechanical bull and wishes you would ride him.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, no defined reader age or physical appearance besides outfits, alcohol use, joel getting slapped, tommy is a little shit, first date anxiety, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, praise, pet names, girl on top, couch sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, deep throating, more men whimpering and begging 2k23. let me know if any warnings are missing!

author’s note: look, i know i’m in the middle of my spooky specials but i saw two very specific tik toks that left me with the need to write this 😵‍💫 also this post layout is inspired by @bits-and-babs, whose works and aesthetic are chef’s kiss.

“Why did you pick this place?” Joel grumbles, hand wrapped around a sweating bottle of beer. People keep jostling him as they squeeze past, forcing him to keep his elbow tight to his side to avoid having his beer be collateral damage.

“You’ll see,” Tommy says with a cryptic wink. Joel rolls his eyes.

Tommy has dragged him out to a saloon style bar, complete with swinging wooden doors and longhorn skulls decorating the walls. Everything is shiny dark wood and western motif, down to the saddle style barstools. Most of the patrons have leaned into the theme, too — tassels, leather, cowboys hats, and ostentatious belt buckles.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen!” A man’s voice calls out over the speakers. “The show is about to begin!”

“Show?” Joel asks dubiously. Tommy only grins at him, dragging him by the arm towards the back of the bar.

He weaves through the crowd until they’re only behind a few rows of people that have gathered around a mechanical bull riding ring, of all things. The floor of the ring is inflatable and in the middle sits the brown bull figure. Joel catches his first glimpse of you, a gorgeous woman in denim cut offs standing beside the bull. Your black leather halter top plunges low to expose your cleavage and stops short of the waist of your shorts, a tantalizing strip of your stomach on display. The black leather of the top matches your black leather boots and the cuffs snapped around your wrists.

“One of Salty Saloon’s very own has stepped up to take the bull by the horns tonight!”

You lift a hand to wave, bright smile on your face as you take in the crowd. Your eyes land on Joel and for a brief moment he swears he stops breathing. He can’t hear anything the emcee is saying, all the noise around him just a dull buzz as he watches you swing yourself up onto the back of the bull.

“Alright, alright, alright! Our rider’s goal is to stay on for one minute using only one hand! If she falls before the buzzer, y’all get nothin’. But if she makes it, shots are half off for the rest of the night!”

A cacophony of cheers erupts around Joel and you straighten your spine, holding your hand out with a thumbs up. The music starts, some pop song he’s heard on the radio in the morning when he’s taking Sarah to school, and the mechanical bull turns in a slow circle. You have one hand twisted in a leather strap, the other raised above your head as the bull bucks and swings, your hips moving smoothly with the machine.

“Goddamn,” someone says from behind Joel. “I ain’t ever wanted to be a bull so bad in my life.”

Me, too, he thinks.

Your thighs press tight against the sides of the bull as it swings around, turning you to face the section of crowd Joel stands in. You release the hand grip, both hands in the air now as you rely solely on your legs and core to keep you up on the machine. When the machine turns again, you manage to lift your body and swing your legs around to reverse your position, now seated facing the back of the bull.

“Alright, ten more seconds!” The emcee calls out. The crowd starts to cheer your name and Joel can’t help but join in, eyes glued to you as you continue to swing and sway like all the movements are nothing but second nature to you.

“Three! Two! One!”

A cowbell goes off, signaling the end of your ride. The bull slows to a stop and you sit there for a moment to catch your breath, waving at the crowd. The bar owner, Johnny, comes out onto the crash pad with a huge grin on his face.

“Great job up there, kid. Now go sell some half priced shots,” he says with a good natured pat on your shoulder.

You return to the bar, where the other two bartenders scheduled tonight field the after-show rush, lining up shot glasses and filling them in quick succession with the requested liquor. When you get behind the bar, a familiar head of curly hair catches your eye.

“Tommy!” You call, excited to see one of you favorite regulars. He shouts your name as you stop in front of him.

“This is my brother, Joel!” He says, slapping the back of the man beside him. You’d seen him in the crowd, a handsome guy with broad shoulders stretching a dark blue t-shirt, warm tan skin, and messy curls that speak to the family resemblance between him and Tommy. You reach a hand across the bar, Joel’s calloused fingers dragging against your palm as you greet the man.

“It’s nice to meet you, Joel. Can I get y’all anything?” You ask. Tommy grins.

“Let me get this man a slap shot!” He yells.

You glance at Joel. “That okay with you?” You ask.

His eyes are comically wide as he nods. You step back to ring the bell behind the bar, your fellow bartenders whooping and cheering, a chant of “SLAP SHOT! SLAP SHOT!” echoing around you.

Haley sets a glass of water on the bar for you and you grab a pint glass, filling it with ice and two ounces of Jim Beam and amaretto. You smack the steel shaker on top, grabbing both glasses and shaking them vigorously over your shoulder.

You strain the contents of the shaker into a shot glass, amber liquid flowing to the brim. When you’ve got everything ready, you leave the back of the bar and squeeze your way through the crowd until you’re in front of the two brothers and can hoist yourself up onto the bar.

“Alright, Joel, are you ready?” You shout. He looks a little confused, brows pinched tight over kind brown eyes, but he nods anyway, holding his hand out for the shot glass. Tommy watches with a shit eating grin. “Three! Two! One!”

Joel takes the shot and you follow it with a glass of water to his face and a slap across his jaw in quick succession. Tommy is howling with laughter and Joel’s face is one of pure shock, red blooming across the skin of his cheek. He turns to his brother.

“Tommy, what the fuck!” Joel shouts. His hand wraps into the neck of Tommy’s shirt. “You little fuckin’ shit!”

You have the sinking realization that Joel wasn’t prepared for what a slap shot entails. You had just assumed this was something Tommy had told him about, having been to the bar so much the last few months.

Joel looks mad as hell, his shoulders tense and you worry he may actually throw a punch at Tommy. You hop from the bar and get between the two men, pressing a hand to their chests and pushing them apart.

"You, come with me," you say, pointing to Joel. "And you," -- you jab a finger into Tommy's chest -- "are on my shit list."

You take Joel by the hand and guide him to the back office, shutting the door and muffling the noises of the bar beyond it. His face is still dripping wet and the water dripping from his chin has gathered into a sizeable spot on the collar of his shirt.

"I am so, so sorry," you start, rifling through the storage cabinet for a bar towel. You hold it out to him, avoiding his gaze. "Tommy comes here so much that I just thought he'd told you about what a slap shot was. I should have told you, oh my god."

"Hey, it's okay. I ain't mad at you," Joel says, running the towel over his damp face. "Tommy, though. I'm gonna kick his fuckin' ass later."

"Still," you mumble, twisting your hands together nervously. "I'm sorry. Is your cheek okay?"

He rubs the towel over his head to dry his hair a bit, the action leaving him adorable mussed, curly strands sticking up in every direction. You're staring at him, maybe a little too much, but who can blame you? The man is hot.

"Yeah, trust me. I've had worse," Joel replies with a laugh.

"You get slapped by women often?" You tease.

"The number of times ain't just one."

"Oh, a bad boy. Mama warned me about guys like you."

He laughs again, long and low, running a hand through his hair. "Well, thank you for the towel."

"Right. And your next drink is on me. As an apology," you tell him.

"I'd rather get your number," he says. "You know, as an apology."

You raise your eyebrows at him before turning to the manager's desk, grabbing a marker and tugging the cap off with your teeth. You slide a hand down his arm, lifting his forearm up so that you can write down your number across the smooth, tan skin.

"I'm off next weekend," you comment when you've recapped the marker.

"I'll keep that in mind," Joel replies with a grin.

Joel's nervous as he waits outside of your apartment building in his truck, fingers tapping a nameless tune against the steering wheel. It's Saturday night and he's here to pick you up for dinner at a restaurant in downtown Austin, one that required he dig out the old black button down he keeps shoved in the back of his closet for parent-teacher conferences and funerals.

The front door to your building opens and you emerge, dressed in a pretty red wrap dress and black heels. Joel gets out of the truck and jogs around to the passenger side to open the door for you and he's surprised when you lean up and kiss him on the cheek.

"Hey," you say in greeting, climbing into the truck and settling into the passenger seat, your purse on your lap. Joel can't help the dopey grin that's surely stretched across his face.

“Hey, yourself. You look nice,” he replies. He shuts the door and jogs around the the driver’s side.

“You don’t look so bad either,” you tell him as he starts the truck up. He can feel his cheeks get warm and he hopes that you can’t see him the proof of his nerves in the dark cab.

At the restaurant, the host leads you both to a small table towards the back of the restaurant, pristine white tablecloth topped with a small vase of flowers and a flickering votive candle. A waiter in a white button down comes by to take your drink orders before disappearing the the kitchen, leaving the two of you regarding each other in silence.

“Look, I gotta be honest about somethin’,” Joel says, leg bouncing beneath the table. “I’ve got a kid. Sarah, she’s thirteen. Light of my life, you know?” He takes a deep breath before finishing with, “And I don’t think I’ve even been on a date since she’s been born, so this is just…a little new to me.”

“You have a kid?” You ask. For a moment Joel worries that he may have ended this before it could even get a chance to begin, but then your face lights up with a sweet smile and you ask, “Will you tell me about her?”

Joel does. In between ordering and eating your delicious meals, you and Joel discuss anything and everything. He tells you about Sarah and his contracting work, while you tell him about your full time job as a pharmacy technician, the gig at the bar a part time thing on some weekends. He nearly makes you snort your water out of your nose with a story about rescuing Tommy from the bathroom of the girl he’d been seeing when her long distance boyfriend, who Tommy didn’t know existed, showed up at her apartment.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim breathlessly. “And he just jumped out of the bathroom window?”

“To be fair, she had a first floor unit,” Joel confirms. “His royal pain in the ass still made me take him to urgent care because he thought he broke his ankle.”

“You’re a good brother,” you say with a smile. Joel feels the warmth of it in his veins.

After dinner, the ride back to your place is quiet, the comfortable silence filled with the low music from the radio. In a moment of bravery, Joel reaches over and lays a hand on your low thigh, just above your knee as he drives. He refuses to look over at you, but from the corner of his eye he sees you look down at his hand before looking back out the window.

He counts that as a win.

He pulls up the curb outside your apartment and kills the engine. You speak before he has a chance to agonize over what to say.

“Will you walk me to my door?” You ask.

He feels relief and anxiety in one fell swoop. He agonizes internally over whether to kiss you goodnight as he follows you up the stairs to your apartment, the buzzing in his brain momentarily silenced while he watches your hips sway as you climb the steps.

You stop on the second floor, guiding him down a long hallway to a door marked with a black metal number three. You turn to face him, looking up at him through your lashes.

“This is me,” you murmur. Joel swallows nervously.

“Right. I, uh…I had a really great time tonight,” he says.

“Would you…want to come inside?”

Joel’s brain short circuits. “Would I—? Yeah.”

You turn to unlock the door, pushing into your apartment and Joel follows you inside. The apartment is dark but you quickly turn on the lights as you move further inside, illuminating an open living room with a dining nook. There’s a door off to the right that he assumes is your bedroom and an open kitchen to the left. It’s small, but it’s cozy, bursting with colors and fabrics and mismatched furniture.

“Well, this is home,” you say with a shrug. You set your purse down on the small circular dining table. “Can I get you anything to drink? I’ve got beer, some liquor on the bar cart over there if you want to have a look.”

“Beer is fine,” Joel says, taking a seat on the comfy looking couch. You return with a bottle of beer, passing it to him before settling in beside him, kicking off your heels and drawing your legs up beneath you.

He takes a sip, fortifying his nerves. He wasn’t lying when he said it’s been a long time since he’s been on a date, but even sex has been a distant thought for the last year or so. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

“So,” you start, your elbow pressed into the back couch cushion while you lean your face into the palm of your hand. “You wanna know what I think?”

“‘Bout what?” Joel asks.

“You.”

“You got a report card ready for me already?”

“I think” — you take the beer bottle from his hand, setting it on the coffee table — “you’ve spent a long time being a caretaker. Right? You’ve got Tommy, who was already a handful. Your daughter, who’s obviously priority number one. You’ve got a business to worry about, workers to care for.” You shuffle closer on your knees, swinging a leg over his and settling yourself onto his lap. “This okay?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he replies, probably a bit too enthusiastically. His fingers curl into the couch cushions and he wants to reach up to wrap his hands around your waist but he’s not sure if he should.

You play with the collar of his shirt. “What do you think about having someone take care of you for a change?”

Joel’s stomach flips, cock jumping in interest as the blood in his brain rushes south and leaves him only capable of responding with a mumbled, “Oh?”

“I just think you deserve someone treating you real nice,” you say with a shrug. Deft fingers work at undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Especially when I was so mean when we met, slapping you across the face like I did.”

“Told you not to worry ‘bout that,” he replies, head dropping against the back cushions. “S’not like I didn’t like it.”

“You like to be roughed up a little, Mr. Miller?”

“Maybe.”

Your grin is wicked as you drag your nails down the now exposed skin of his chest. He hisses at the sting of it.

“Interesting,” you murmur. You lean close, chest pressed against his, hands coming up to frame his face. Your nails scratch through his beard now and he groans his appreciation.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. “Please?”

You respond by pressing your lips to his, chaste as first. Your mouths move together slowly, feeling each other out. It’s you that takes it deeper, tracing your tongue over his bottom lip and dipping it inside to tangle with his. He wraps his arms around your low back, holding you tightly in his lap as he consumes you, drunk on the feeling of your breath in his lungs.

You drags yours lips away from his with a slick sound, trailing them along his jaw and towards his ear. You nip at his earlobe, teeth gentle and breath hot before whispering, “Can I suck your cock, Joel?”

A whimper claws it’s way up Joel’s throat as he nods, already unable to form words. He’s no stranger to turning into a puddle for a pretty woman but he’s certain this must be a new record.

You slip from his lap and kneel on the floor, pushing his legs apart so that you can settle in between them. Your hands reach for his belt, tugging on the buckle and pulling it loose so that you can pop the button of his jeans and tug the zipper down, the metallic sound loud in the quiet room.

Your fingers curl into the waist of his jeans and Joel lifts his hips a bit to aid you in tugging them halfway down his thighs. His cock tents his boxers in an obscene way, a wet spot already staining the fabric. You run your palms up his thighs before bracketing his member between your hands, lightly running your thumbs up his length.

“Christ,” Joel says, teeth digging into his lip.

“That feel good?” You ask.

“Uh huh.”

You smile beatifically before leaning forward, warm breath on his covered cock as you press gentle kisses through the fabric. Joel’s hips twitch and he lets out a deep groan.

You tug the elastic of his boxers over his length, tucking it beneath his balls. He’s practically vibrating with need but you continue to take your sweet time, pressing more kisses along his shaft, tracing the tip of your tongue over the prominent vein.

“You have a pretty cock, Joel,” you say, wrapping your hand around the base of him to hold him steady. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open but he doesn’t want to miss the sight of your tongue lapping at the bead of precum gathered on his flushed tip, or the way your own eyes flutter shut as you let out a little moan of appreciation.

You wrap your lips around his cock, taking him inch by agonizing inch into your warm mouth and Joel feels any semblance of sanity disappear from his lust clouded brain. Your eyes stay fixed on him as take him in as far as you can, throat fluttering around the sensitive head when you swallow before pulling up, twirling your tongue around the tip, and plunging back down.

“Christ,” Joel groans, reaching out to cup your cheek. “You look so goddamn good like that.”

You lift off his cock and take it in your hand, moving it across your lips as you ask, “Like what?”

“Chokin’ on my cock, sweetheart,” he growls.

“That was nothing.”

Joel’s about to ask what you mean when you lower your mouth over his length once more. He can feel you flatten your tongue, your throat and jaw relaxing enough to take him to the very base, your nose tickling the wiry curls on his pelvis. He moans as you swallow around him, breathing through your nose and holding yourself there for a moment before coming up with a gasp, tears gathered in the corners of your eyes and spit making your chin shiny in the low light.

“So…I could keep doing this,” you tell him, “or…”

“Or?” He asks.

“Or…you could let me make us both feel good.”

You stand up, your hands untying the knot that holds your dress together so you can push it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. You push your panties down your legs and unhook your bra, leaving you gloriously naked in front him, every inch of you like a piece of art meant to be admired. Joel’s hands, greedy and unfulfilled up until now, reach up to grip your hips and pull you onto his lap, your pussy hot and wet against his cock. He lets his hands wander over every inch of exposed skin, relishing the way your ass fits in his palms and the way you hiss when his thumb caresses a tight nipple.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he moans, his lips against your rapid pulse, teeth ghosting the thin skin of your neck. “Need you so bad, baby.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” you whisper, reaching between your bodies to hold his throbbing cock steady, notching it at your soaked entrance and beginning a slow slide down.

Joel is panting against your sweat slick chest, mumbling desperate words into your skin as you take him inside of you as slowly as you can, thighs burning with the effort. When you’ve finally seated yourself on his lap, his head drops back to the cushion, eyes squeezed shut tightly and fingers nearly bruising on your thighs.

“Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move,” he begs. “Oh, fuck, feels so good.”

Where he’s desperate for you to stay still, you’re already desperate to move. His cock is perfect, thick and long with a slight upward curve, pressing up against your g-spot with stunning accuracy. You’re certain this won’t last long for either of you.

You rock slowly, forward and back, little movements of your hips. Joel lifts his head, looking down at where your bodies are connected with dark eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tangling your fingers in his hair and giving it a sharp tug that has him hissing your name.

You start to move more quickly, rolling your body in smooth waves over his. He’s panting as he looks up at you, sweat gathering at his temple, and his hands grip your ass and follow your movement reverently.

“So fuckin’ good,” he moans, “you’re gonna make me come, baby, goddamn.”

You speed up, bouncing on his lap now. Your couch creaks the slightest bit, protesting your movements, but you don’t care — all you care about is the man beneath you and the desperate little noises spilling from his lips as you make good on your promise to take care of him.

“Touch me,” you command. “I’m so close, Joel, please.”

He’s a good listener, your Joel, his thumb immediately finding your clit and circling it with messy movements that drive you wild, that tension in your muscles coiling tighter. Joel’s hips flex into yours with each drop down his length, the room echoing with the lewd sounds of skin against skin and the chorus of whimpers that spill from both of you.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you chant. He wraps his arms around you, really thrusting into you now as your own movements falter and you collapse forward, head buried against his neck as you come, trembling with the strength of it.

It’s not long after that he goes still, cock pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks of your orgasm wash over you. You stay slumped against each other, catching your breaths and waiting for your racing hearts to come back down to earth.

“That was…,” Joel says with a breathless laugh that shakes his chest. His fingers play up and down your back, soothing and gentle. “Goddamn, that was amazin’.”

“Yeah?” You ask, lifting your head. You smooth his messy hair back from his forehead. “You weren’t so bad either.”

He nips at your neck in retaliation, making you laugh and squirm away from him.

“Do you have to get going?” You ask.

“No,” he replies. “Tommy’s watchin’ Sarah for me tonight. He owes me one. Besides, I’m ain’t done with you yet.”

“No?”

“Not even close, darlin’.”

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

[codnasties]

bull rider!ghost 👻

having an uni bestie that's from a small rural town as someone who was born and raised in a city has it's perks, like getting to experience things you had never experienced before. and i'm talking about going to a rodeo.

crowd roaring as a new rider sat on an angry bull and got tossed into the air as the animal bucked fiercely. the first few wild dudes that you had seen were interesting. you know, the attraction of something new that you had never really seen before. but after a handful of them it started getting a bit boring, but your friend was cheering on so loudly and seemingly enjoying that so much it would probably be rude to tell them that you weren't having so much fun.

trying to find some kind of entertainment, you told your friend you were going to go and get a drink, because at this moment a beer looked like it would bring you some semblance of entertainment.

but you were wrong, because as you make your way back to the rodeo grounds, your eye caught a rider that was different. he had a commanding and charming aura to him, something that impelled you to look at him. well, maybe it was more that just the way he carried himself.

it was the way those jeans seemed to hug those thick thighs of his, how, with the help of the chaps he was wearing, they left little to imagination, giving you a perfect view of his ass. and oh what an ass! and his shirt... the way his strong and built muscle seemed to flex and ripple with each movement that he made.

when you finally made it back to where your friend was sitting - which took you longer than the way to the bar because of adoring such a man -, this mysterious dude was now on the chute, lowering himself onto one hell of an angry bull.

while the rest of the riders had caught your eye, there was nothing but anticipation inside of you to see him try to tame that ton and a half bull. and he did not disappoint, the beast beneath him bucking trying to get him of.

it wasn't just the way he has holding on or how long those eight seconds seemed to last when it was him on the arena. it was the way his hips swayed trying to follow the bulls movements, the way the bicep of the arm he was using to hold on became impossibly bigger with the tension, the veins that were proptinding on the hand he had up in the air, the glimpse of tattoos on his forearm as the sleeve of his shirt got pulled by his muscles.

before you ever realised, the buzzer had sounded, indicating that the time necessary was over and that he could now get off the bull. and when he did, you became even more intrigued by him and how fucking tall he looked and how he, amazingly, had managed to keep the hat he was wearing on his head the whole time.

seeing how entranced you were by this one specific rider, your friend immediately gave you that information that you were unknowingly desperate to know. "his name is simon riley, but they call him ghost"

"ghost?", you asked them back.

"yup, because of the way he rides, breaks records and then fucking vanishes. the public doesn't really know much about him or his personal life. and it's also a know fact that is hard to even get to meet him and talk to him" they explained. "oh, an also he ghost every single person that he fucks'

"hmm interesting", you hummed, starting to get into your head that as much as this 'ghost' seemed attractive and got you horny just from looking at him, he was quite unreachable and maybe a bit of an asshole.

"yeah, the man's a beast at what he does", they exclaimed, cutting your thought process.

"i can see, you don't need me to tell me twice", you uttered back.

"and he's actually a cousin of mine! let me introduce you to him'" they gave you further explanation.

you couldn't help the immediate 'oh' that left you. because you actually had a chance to talk to this man an maybe, maybe try to cham your way into those tight jeans of his. because an asshole has his charm, you know?

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

hope y'all enjoyed that, i just pulled this out of my pussy.

no smut just pure hornyness. anyways, save a horse ride a cowboy or sum

[penelopepine]

Maybe I'll write this later:

Poly!141 x Bull Rider Reader

Poly!141 go on a vacation to a cabin owned by Laswell. She let's them know that the county fair is in town the same time as them, and that they should check it out. Says they should experience this aspect of the states. Mentions at the very least they should go and watch the bull riders.

Poly!141 go to the fair. Price thought it sounded interesting, but didn't care either way. Gaz thought that it was a fun idea; definitely wanted to go. Soap was the most hype about going; he was down to go the moment he knew about it. Ghost didn't really want to go. The only reason he did was because he couldn't say no to Gaz's big brown eyes or Soap's pretty begging.

Poly!141 do all of them normal fair activities. They checked out the cooking competition. Trying all the chilies, pies, dips, and cakes. Making bets between themselves on which ones will win.

They play a few of the fair games. Price absolutely dominates at the balloon darts game, and wins prizes for all of the others. Soap tries to his best to win at ring toss; he REALLY wants one of those giant stuffed animals. He doesn't care how impractical carrying that thing is going to be. Try as he may he can't do it though. Soap had given up, and decided to give his last throw to Gaz; who won in one throw! This both delighted and infuriated Soap. Ghost was totally ready to just buy or steal the giant stuffed animal if he hadn't made it.

Poly!141 are finally able to watch the fair shows later during the day. The first they watch is the ax throwing competition. Ghost spends the whole time judging their stances and forms. While also silently admiring the strength that some of them have. Gaz can't stop thinking about how if Price wore a flannel shirt that he would fit right in, and they'd probably lose him in the crowd.

After that is when they go and watch the bull riding competition. Soap is immediately invested in what's happening, and is convinced that he could do this as well. Price is impressed; watching these men and woman willing get bucked around while they could easily get hurt. Ghost spends his time holding Soap down trying to tell him that he can't go down there and ask to do that. Gaz wants to try this for himself, but he knows better than to try it on a real animal. Looks up places they could go and ride a mechanical bull instead.

Poly!141 are instantly drawn to you when you make your appearance. Your smile was dazzling, and they definitely weren't looking at how good your ass looks in those pants.

Bull Rider Reader is an experienced rider. They've been performing since a young age, and has made a bit of a name for themselves within the community. They know how to make a show, and wow the crowd.

Once the show is done Bull Rider Reader runs into Poly!141. Soap is asking questions about how it feels to ride a bull, and how could he do that too. Gaz is saying that they were very entertaining to watch, and asking how long they've been doing this. Ghost is mostly silent; only saying that they did good and wondering to himself if bull riding would come in handy in other aspects of life. Specifically the bedroom. Price is the one who asks Bull Rider Reader if they live around the area or if they traveled for this event.

Poly!141 invite Bull Rider Reader to watch the fireworks with them, and later asks if they would want to hang out a different day since they're still on vacation for a few more days.

Bull Rider Reader knows a bar with a good mechanical bull, and offers to teach them some tips. Poly!141 is instantly down and ready to learn.

The next day everyone meets up and the amount of flirting is through the roof on both sides. Light touches and sexual innuendos are at a none stop with this group. The night ends with everyone having ridden the bull; even Ghost who was easily the best and managed to stay on the longest out of everyone.

Everyone leaves feeling happy and a new number in their phones.

[valyrfia]

I’ve been thinking about it, and I now firmly believe that Charles signed a pre-contract with Red Bull in the week before COTA. Initially, he did it with the intent of putting pressure on Ferrari but then over the course of the triple header he slowly started to realise that maybe honouring that pre-contract MIGHT be his best chance at a WDC. This is heavily reflected in the socials and PR of Red Bull, Ferrari, and Charles himself and ties together all the Lestappen interactions of the past couple of months from Max’s answers at press conferences to the infamous padel date. Buckle up, because it’s going to be a ride.

So I believe to pinpoint the start of the current PR wave/movement that we've coined as Lestappen Gate 2023 we have to look all the way back to Monza. Around Monza, there were numerous rumours that a huge Charles contract renewal was imminent and it was going to be announced, etc. etc. Charles did put these rumours to bed by saying if there were a contract like the one that had been rumoured, he would've signed it immediately. Now, I believe that with Charles confirmed to be unsigned (at around the same time that the George/Lewis and Oscar renewals would've been happening), Red Bull Racing approached Charles to reopen talks.

But I think Charles stalls them, isn't open to talks, until Singapore where Carlos Sainz wins. This throws Ferrari into complete disarray as Fred suddenly can't open talks with Charles as it would then be clear that he will not be re-signing Carlos Sainz. I think it then becomes obvious to Charles and his team that in order for the contract talks to begin they need pressure to negate Santander and the Sainz family breathing down Ferrari's throat. So Charles actively enters talks with Red Bull with the intent of putting that pressure on Ferrari. Also worth noting, Singapore also marked Charles as something special, a generational talent who is also willing to be an exception n2 driver when the team requires it of him, especially when his teammate starts on pole. I think this makes Red Bull even more eager to begin talks with Charles. Interestingly, this is where we get the first Red Bull Lestappen post of this current era, the Lecstappen alert.

This brings us through Suzuka to Qatar, Max winning his 3rd WDC, Charles congratulating him and then effuse about Max and Red Bull in interviews. Seeing the level of success that Max has had is what pushes Charles to decide that he is going to sign a pre-contract with Red Bull for a seat in 2025 because either way, he wins. He either manages to put pressure on Ferrari to get a contract with all the clauses he wants (external brand deals, his own branding, car development to suit him, etc.) OR he gets the MOST talked about seat in F1.

Now this is a key point. I believe the padel date was an excuse to get Max and Charles in the same room. Specifically, for them to have a frank and honest chat about whether they could work as teammates and two n1 drivers on the same team. This is probably the first serious heart to heart that these two have had, which then explains their attitude and closeness in the triple header and them being more ready to be vulnerable and honest with and about each other. Then, in the week before COTA, satisfied that he could be teammates with Max if push came to shove, Charles Leclerc signs a pre-contract with RBR for 2025.

(It's also worth noticing that in the week before COTA, the Lando Norris to RBR rumours and talk noticeably died down, despite Oscar winning the sprint in Qatar).

Now this brings us to COTA, where Charles instantly starts to make PR moves to build a brand for himself. His first big move is signing with WME, a talent agency, and something that Ferrari drivers typically aren't allowed to do. The WME signing solidifies in my mind that a pre-contract exists, because if there is one thing Charles wouldn't do, it's jeopardise his chances of racing in F1. If there's a chance that Ferrari would drop him for this, he just wouldn't do it. However, if he has a guaranteed seat in 2025 no matter the outcome, he would totally do it. It must be said, I believe that Charles is using the pre-contract fully as leverage against Ferrari at this point UNTIL the strategy fuck up. After the strategy fuck up, Charles is noticeably angry and outspoken about it, and Fred starts to freak out a little bit. RBR in the mean time, are starting to try and change the Lestappen narrative from rivals to a duo, with Charles starting to feature heavily on RBR socials.

Moving on to Mexico, Charles does well, considering. But what's important about Mexico is that this is the first time that Charles has truly been treated like a villain by the fans at the track. This is key, not only because of RBR's reaction to it (which I will explore), but also because this is Charles's first taste of what a move to RBR could be like, of what it would feel like were he to become the antihero rather than the golden boy of F1. However, the real clincher is that rather than RBR playing into the narrative of Charles the villain, even despite him literally being involved in the DNF of their own driver (Checo) at his home race, they instead make sure to capture all angles of Charles and Max interacting and one of their own pays special attention to Charles on the podium. In a way, this is the weekend that shows Charles that even though Red Bull and Ferrari are completely different, Red Bull can still be as much of a family to him as Ferrari has been if he wants them to be. Moreso, in fact, considering Ferrari didn't even bother showing up to Charles's P3 podium.

So entering the weekend in Brazil, Charles is pictured wearing his own clothing line that it was rumoured Ferrari forced him to discontinue and Fred Vasseur is starting to get shit scared and starting to talk to anyone from media who will listen about how talented Charles is. Charles does put it on the front row, but there's no real Forza Ferrari about it, and Charles has stopped wearing Ferrari merch in the paddock. A Red Bull employee (Max's PT Brad) is the first person to congratulate Charles on the front row.

Then, the DNS happens. A completely avoidable thing that happened due to Ferrari incompetency, and all hell breaks loose. Charles leaves the paddock before he can finish his Ferrari PR duties like a post-race video, and makes it very clear that he is FURIOUS in all his interviews. Now, laughably, at this point is when Ferrari-Charles contract negations began, or at least, that's what was leaked to the media. In my mind, Charles communicated very clearly to Fred at this point that his pre-contract with Red Bull is a very real threat, and Charles himself is beginning to seriously consider honouring it, and if Ferraro don't get together, they WILL lose their Il Predestinato to Red Bull. At this moment, Fred Vasseur is absolutely terrified. The world is very obviously on Charles's side and sympathetic after the DNS, while being at best apathetic and at worst hostile toward the Scuderia. Meanwhile, Red Bull continue with their Lestappen antics across all social media channel, again publicising the idea that Max and Charles are close and may have once been rivals but are buddies now, like in their tiktok of Max doing the "just an inchident" trend.

Now I haven't mentioned the onboards yet, which were spotted by some eagle eyes fans during the Mexico and Brazil GP weekends, in which Charles's onboard was displayed very clearly alongside their actual drivers, Max and Checo. But the existence of the onboards on the Red Bull pitwall make perfect sense if Charles did sign a pre-contract. Red Bull are gathering data to sway Charles further, almsot a "yeah so here's exactly where Ferrari fucked your race, and here's is what we would've done differently."

The break in the triple header, Charles is noticeably refraining from Forza Ferrari-ing. Rather, he calls the paps on himself on more than one occasion and make sure he is seen with several high profile celebs, strengthening his public image and building his own narrative. Meanwhile, Ferrari is in full damage control mode, taking responsibility for the DNS, acknowledging Charles in a way they haven't fully done since Singapore. There are more leaks of contract negotiations, but Charles does not engage with them. Meanwhile, Red Bull are keeping up their Lestappen propaganda. Charles is making it clear to all parties that this pre-contract that he initially intended to just be a bargaining chip has suddenly become a serious threat to Ferrari.

Finally, this brings us to last weekend, Vegas. Charles, again, refuses to Forza Ferrari. Ferrari PR have put Charles and Red Bull content on absolute LOCKDOWN with not a HINT of Lestappen anywhere, and Max is making comments about the choice of team being important in winning even for generational talents while Charles fidgets and looks away. Fred praises Charles to hell and back again, implying that Charles will obviously be prioritised over Carlos by diminishing Singapore, but in the post-race, Charles still gives nothing. Just a thinly veiled comment about how good it feels to be fighting at the front again. Meanwhile, Red Bull amp up the Charles content even more, even fully posting a picture just of Charles's car. There are also not one, but two questions about Max and Charles's karting past. In discussion with my academic colleagues (@tsarinablogs, @thearchercore, @gaslightgirlsummer (further thanks for all three of them, for entertaining a much rougher draft of this essay a few days ago)), we've talked about the possibility that these questions might have themselves been planted in the media rooms, in order to further cement the idea and control the narrative of Charles and Max, childhood rivals turned dynamic duo. The sort of narrative one might find intriguing around teammates.

So this concludes my essay. I am almost sure that Charles has a pre-contract with Red Bull, which is why he is suddenly so outspoken about the problems and failings of Ferrari. Although this pre-contract originally began as a bargaining chip, I believe that Charles is seriously considering honouring it. Ferrari are desperate, and Red Bull have the upper hand and are starting to pave the way for a media shift in how Charles and Max as a pairing are perceived.

[ef-1]

I see some confusion (both real and manufactured lol) about the authenticity of the claims reported by F1-Insider on the Red Bull seat.

There are two main claims in that article

That everyone, including "the Verstappen family" were told by Horner and Helmut that Sergio WILL be replaced by the next race in Zandvoort:

2. That the drastic change of course was the result of Liberty Media (the rights holder to all of F1) pressuring Red Bull not to drop Sergio during the break because it would cost Liberty too much money if the only Mexican driver, who is regarded a hero, is dropped before the Mexican GP- tanking the event:

There has been a lot of handwringing about how F1-Insider is not a reliable news source, this is only partially correct because they are not really AMuS (<- regarded as THE gold standard in f1 journalism and reporting) F1-insider mostly report on other people's interviews and sources, it is however a reliable Verstappen camp source. Ralf Bach, the owner of F1-Insider AND MORE IMPORTANTLY THE AUTHOR OF THIS ARTICLE is a career long f1 journalist (30 yr long veteran and is inducted in the paddock hall of fame) has been a Verstappen camp insider since 2016 (think of him as Erik van Haren-lite), if he says something about the Verstappens it is either from Jos or Raymond. He's also by extension close to Helmut (Helmut gave him all those exclusive interviews about how close Red Bull came to bringing Seb back into Red Bull after Ferrari refused to extend him). Most of F1-Insider's interviews are from Red Bull, specifically Helmut and camp Verstappen.

Ralf Bach and Jos are even closer than that because they're friends. In 2021, Jos complained to Bach about Lewis and Toto without knowing he was saying those comments on the record because he thought he was just chatting with Bach as a friend. When Bach wrote about those comments in F1-Insider, Jos tweeted that he doesn't know who F1-Insider is because he didn't know Bach had founded his own company and the website was still quite new. Bach then asked Jos to delete that tweet because it dented F1-insider's credibilty and Jos DID delete that tweet because didn't want to make his friend look like a liar and he HAD said those things to Bach lol. + Bach was only second to EVH when it came to reporting Jos' side of the story when they were trying to overthrow Horner after news of the allegations against him broke.

For Ralf Bach to say, and I quote ,"The Verstappen family were surprised [...] Horner and Helmut gave them a clear statement: Perez is gone" literally means only 1 of 2 things: This is coming directly from camp Verstappen, either from Raymond or most probably Jos given that's his friend and the way Ralf specifically made sure to say 'the Verstappen family' (girl who else? Sophie? Victoria?).

Whether both claims are true can be up for debate but what is a point of fact is that Ralf Bach is reporting what camp Verstappen is telling him they know. And they're telling him that they were verbatim told by both Horner and Helmut that Sergio will be booted on Sunday after the race. The heli ride with Daniel, Max, Jos and Raymond + the fact that camp Verstappen have no reason to lie about this point to at least most of this being true.

[miguel-owhora]

back on my bullshit, but thinking about mreader who's so big and broad, so tall and muscular, you're an absolute tank of a unit compared to the other guys. but despite your size, you're rather friendly, if a little air-headed at time. the other guys, specifically soap, nicknames you 'Bull' and somehow manages to change your codename to that on the system. mostly bc 1. you're big, and 2., he's seen you bodyslam people before and knock down doors just like that.

anyways, timeskip bc idk, i guess you're all in the common shower just... showering or drying up. the other guys are joking around, well, gaz is egging soap to bother ghost and price is exasperated. they've seen each other's dicks far too often to not worry about covering up, and any glances are pointedly ignored. up until this moment, no one has seen your dick, as you like to take private showers. but after one too many slips into the mud, well, price haggled you into the showers.

but these are your friends, your teammates, and you're not exactly insecure - or rather self-aware around them. you don't bat an eye when you step out of the stalls, drying up your hair with your towel. and it's the only towel you have on your body, which means that the other guys have a full view to your cock and ass.

and lord do they stare, literally getting whiplash with how fast they turn to look. it seems there's another reason why you're called Bull, because jesus, you're hung like one. all soft but still thick and long, balls heavy and firm, your ass hidden in a soft layer of hair that spreads between the middle and down your thighs and all over the rest of your body, fuck.

question is, would they ride you like a bull?

[whorekneecentral]

Cocoa

Pierre Gasly x Fem!Reader

Warnings: soft boyfriend!pierre, reader is insistent on this one thing, the couch is getting some action, thigh riding, penetrative sex (P in V), choking.

Word Count: 1,638

Author's Note: don't get upset, pierre lowkey gives me the ick so this is my public serve act of the month - writing him :)

merry smutmas series

--

You have your boyfriend drive all around the city until you find the one thing you were looking for. When you finally find it, you decide you want something else.

The noise pulls him away from the simulator, Pierre could hear your grumbling as he made his way to the kitchen. "Mon amour, que se passe-t-il ? Qu'est-ce que tu cherches?" (My love, what's going on? What are you looking for?) He asked as he leant on the wall, arms folded over his chest.

Your back was to the man, "I'm fine." You tell him, sitting on the counter as you dug through the cupboards.

"Is something missing?" He walks over, standing by the counter as he watches you shuffle things around.

"I had this cocoa powder," you shut the door, shifting on the cold marble to face him. "It was in a red tin, I can't remember the name of it but I swear I left it in there."

Pierre's brows furrow, head tilted to the side. "You're sure you left it in there? And you didn't use it all?"

"No, I know I left it in there." You tell him, hopping off of the counter. Your boyfriend shrugs, "I could take you to the store to look some more, if you wanted."

"Okay," you nodded, "let's go."

He looks over at you, watching as you grab your coat. "Oh, now?" He points to the door and you nod, "yeah, come on."

Pierre smiles, shaking his head as he grabs his own coat and his car keys. Only you'd have him running around to look for cocoa powder. Knowing you, it had to be the specific brand you were looking for otherwise you wouldn't buy it.

You were particular like that - part of why Pierre loved you so much.

There you were, walking up and down every single aisle in the store, Pierre following behind you with the shopping cart. You had yet to find what you were looking for but your boyfriend managed to fill the cart up halfway with some bits and pieces he needed.

You were in the aisle with coffee, tea and other things like that. "What was it called again?" He asked, looking up and down the shelves.

"I have no idea," you admit, scanning the shelves for a red tin. Pierre hums, picking up something red. "Was it this?" He shows you, leaning on the handle of the shopping cart.

Looking over, you reach for the tin to get a better look at it. You read the label, looking at the picture. "No," you shook your head, "but I remember it had a picture of a reindeer on it, with some trees or something like that."

Pierre nods, "okay." He takes the tin from you, putting it back on the shelf. You look around some more and Pierre follows you into another aisle before you eventually call it quits and cash out.

Despite not finding the cocoa powder, you still ended up with a trunk full of stuff.

You two checked a few other stores, making your way from one end of the city to the other and you still did not find the thing you were looking for. You had gone as far as googling 'hot cocoa powder with reindeer and trees on packaging', scouring amazon, asking the workers in the store and no one had any idea what you meant or what you were looking for.

After coming out of the last store, you get back into the car - exhausted and you have given up. "Do you want to check anywhere else?" He asked you, looking over to you and you shook your head.

"I give up, Pierre." You sigh, making him chuckle. "But can you stop at the corner shop? I want a Red Bull.. oh and a Kit Kat."

Pierre smiles, "sure, love."

The man drives you towards the corner store, parking right outside before running into the store to pick up what you wanted. He returns a few minutes later, putting the bag into the back with the rest of the stuff before you head home.

Pierre brings the stuff into the house and you unpack it; that had been your deal since you moved in.

You find yourself putting away the stuff from the store, putting whatever had to go into the fridge, into the fridge before putting the rest of the stuff where it needed to go. There's one bag left, the one from the corner store.

Opening it, you take out the Kit Kat and then the Red Bull, but there's something else in the bag. A red tin with a picture of a reindeer in front of some trees.

It was the hot cocoa powder you were looking for.

You set the tin on the counter, running into the living room towards your boyfriend who sat on the couch. Pierre's caught off guard when you jump on him, sending him back on the couch. The man laughs, his arms around you as you sit on top of him.

"You found it!" You smile at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Figured I'd surprise you." He smiles, rubbing your hip. "I take it, it's the right one?"

"Yeah," you nod, leaning down to kiss him. Your hand rests on his jaw, Pierre's other hand finds your lower back, pulling you flat against him. His head tilts to the side when he feels your lips moving down to his neck.

"Wait," he says, pulling you back a bit. "Don't you want the hot-"

"I'm loving on you and you're stopping me to ask about hot chocolate?" You laughed, looking at your boyfriend like he was crazy.

He nods, "yeah you're right, that's wrong of me. Sorry." The man laughs, pulling you back in for a kiss.

His hands find your hips and you shift onto his thigh. He lifts his leg, the sudden change causes you to slide forward, rubbing against the fabric under you. 

You rocked back and forth on his thigh as he kissed you, the two of you only separating for a moment to take your shirt off. Your hands made quick work on undoing the zipper on his hoodie, giving up halfway and pulling on it until he managed to take it off.

The sound that left your mouth was like heaven on earth to him.

Pierre smiles, looking up at you sitting on his thigh. “What was that?” He teased and you shrug, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your cheeks are red as you look away. 

His eyes fixed on you, his hands guide you back and forth, slowly moving you faster with each push and pull. “So pretty,” he coos, pushing your hair back off your shoulders.

You nod, pushing down on his thigh a little harder. Your hands on his shoulder, nails digging into the back of them. That was gonna leave a mark.

Pierre flips you two over so you're laying on your back, under him. You look up at him, confused. “Wha- why’d you stop?” 

Your boyfriend pulls your leggings off, tossing it behind him somewhere and you giggle. "Oh," you look at him, watching him as he pushes his own pants down.

Your legs are up on his shoulders when the man leans down to kiss you, pushing into you. Your hips jut towards him, body betraying you. His arm wrapped around your legs, holding them in place when he pushes in a little more, letting you take all of him. 

Pierre can already feel you clench around him, “relax,” he tells you, a hand rubbing your thigh.  

You nod, chest rising and falling with each passing second, your boyfriend's hips dug into the back of your thighs. He watches as your face twists in pleasure, your own hand wrapped around his bicep and your nails dig into him.

"God-" you cut yourself off with a moan, the tip of his cock brushing against the one spot you really wanted it too. "That, do that again." You looked up at him and Pierre was certain he wasn't going to last much longer.

Hair framing your face, the light reflecting off of your skin, the way your back arched and your chest pressed to his.

Pierre thought he had died and gone to heaven; you were an angel on earth.

He leans down to kiss you again, muffling your moans in the process. His lips against yours when he speaks; "just like that baby, c'mon."

“Gonna cum-” you barely get out between strangled moans. Pierre moves one of his hands, letting it wrap around your throat. 

You were so close, on the edge of cumming. His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing your clit, rubbing on it and his thrusts were the same as before

Your hand wraps around his wrist, he squeezes at your neck a little harder, your legs dropping from his shoulders to back around his waist. Between him fucking you and his fingers on your clit; you were seeing stars right now, vision blurry and your head tossed back, his name fell from your lips like a prayer. 

Pierre laid flat against you now, his face buried in your neck. Your hand rubbing along his bare, skin sticky and warm. "Babe," you whispered, the man moving around a bit.

"Hm?"

"Can you go warm up some milk for me?" You asked and Pierre laughs, his chest vibrating against yours. "Yeah, baby. Sure." He gets up, putting his boxers on before walking to the kitchen.

You watch from the couch, smiling to yourself as he fills a pot with some milk and sets it on the stove. Wrapping the throw blanket around yourself, you walk to the kitchen and hug your boyfriend from the side. He leans, his arm wrapped around you when he kisses your head.

"You're the best," you tell him, smiling at him. "I know," he says and you laugh, smacking him on the side.

--

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

[snapghoul]

Twins Headcanons

The differences of the twins.

Note: whaat? Snap posting twice?? Yes indeed! they consume my thoughts and I must share them before I combust.

TYLER

✩ Tyler’s hair is darker and longer.

✩ his eyes are a darker green by a few shades.

✩ He likes shirts with long sleeves, most of his wardrobe is flannels.

✩ he’s mildly deaf in his left ear from being stomped on while competing in bull riding. Tinnitus is an everyday thing for him.

✩ sometimes he can’t tell how loud he’s talking when he’s excited until someone tells him.

✩ he hates snakes

✩ he prefers country music, more specifically the classics (Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, etc.)

✩ his white cowboy hat is a comfort and a lucky item, it goes with him everywhere.

✩ hates being clean shaven.

✩ there’s a scar on the back of his thigh in the shape of a crescent from a bull when it broke his leg.

✩ has chronic pain in his shoulders. Ibuprofen is his best friend.

✩ Tyler is a half an inch taller

✩ left hand dominant.

✩ Tyler was born first

JAKE

✩ likes his hair short, he hates how it feels on his neck when it get too long.

✩ likes a clean shave, he hates the feeling of stubble especially when his mask in on while flying.

✩ can’t walk straight for the life of him, too conditioned to walk on ships, guaranteed to drift into someone when walking side by side.

✩ non intentional space invader, he doesn’t realize how close he is until he backs away. (Never apologizes unless it’s a stranger)

✩ ambidextrous (equal right and left hand dominance)

✩ likes dad rock.

✩ spinning and chewing his toothpick is an anxious fidget.

✩ afraid of the deep ocean.

✩ prefers short sleeved shirts.

✩ his collar bone aches when it’s colder outside after he broke it playing football.

✩ Jake’s hair is sun bleached.

✩ aside from a select few line dances, he can’t dance.

✩ always has mismatched socks because he looses the other or it gets ripped.

✩ Jake was the smaller of the two when born

[serpentface]

Brakul participating in the khaitwrestling tournament in the city of Wardin’s annual games. He is grappling with his beloathed rival, a Titen youth with a cooler beard named Gijo Sihgawe.

Brakul is using a technique where he attempts to gain a solid hold of his opponent's body and will then spur his khait into a run, using the animal’s momentum to drag the opponent off his mount. This can be a risky endeavor (as one attempting this maneuver might be wrenched off their OWN khait if their foe has a stronger grip) but is considered rather impressive and crowd pleasing when performed successfully. 

Khait wrestling is a sport that was brought to broader Imperial Wardi culture via the Hill Tribes, and is very popular in the west and south of the region. The Wardi brand of khait wrestling is similar in basic form and structure to its progenitor traditions, but has developed into its own unique variant. The goal of the sport is to force the other rider to dismount (via pulling or shoving them off) and to lead both khait out of the ring.

Wardi khait wrestling is performed in a wide, circular ring. Combatants begin with their khait standing parallel, and attempt to shove or pull opponents off of their mount. Fighting halts if the riders step out of the ring, and both must reposition themselves at the center before the match can resume.

Combatants are only permitted to fight via grappling. Punches, kicks, intentional twisting of extremities, attacks with the spur, jabs at the eyes, intentional trampling, etc are prohibited (and called by referees. Their calls can be incredibly controversial). Notably, the pulling of hair is generally Not outright prohibited, so longhaired riders usually wear their hair tight to the scalp or under a cap, and many devoted wrestlers keep their heads shaved. 

A match ends when one combatant has forced their opponent to the ground AND successfully leads their khait out of the ring while remaining mounted. If a dismounted rider manages to regain control of their khait before it is led away, the match continues. Bouts between equally matched opponents can be very lengthy. Official competitions held in annual games tend to have time limits, at which point the match is scored by referees based on a point system (usually tallying number of falls and scoring points per certain types of grapples).

Khait wrestling requires strong, calm, well trained and exceptionally even-tempered khait that can remain unpanicked as their riders fight atop them. Most are mares or geldings, though occasional intact bulls with particularly gentle temperaments make appearances. Hornless or blunt-horned khait are preferred (some local games only accept hornless) as even the most placid khait's horns can become dangerous to their wrestling riders. A khait that intentionally injures another rider or khait (through biting or kicking) will be banned from official events, and often become fodder for sacrifice (khait are rare as animal sacrifices, and also considered among the best for the same reason- their high value).

Saddles are made especially for this sport, and are designed specifically to Not provide significant security to the rider (they are flat and lack stirrups), making riders entirely reliant on strength and balance. Riders wear loose trousers (quite uncommon in the region, where robes or skirts are generally worn), belted at the waist to avoid being yanked off during a bout. They wear high laced riding boots with small spurs.

This and other mounted events are usually accessible only to wealthy athletes (or athletes with wealthy sponsors), as there is a significant cost barrier to khait ownership to begin with in the cities, and animals suitable for this sport are particularly expensive. These matches are functionally a showcase of wealth and power for their participants. Though riders must wear simple clothing and are provided basic saddles, their mounts may be lavishly groomed and ornamented. The costuming shown here is actually on the less ostentatious end of the spectrum for a typical city tournament.

Additional notes:

Brakul's khait here is one of his favorites (he has twelve), a huge, shaggy mare named Emense, a Wardi word that translates close to 'beloved'.

Brakul has participated in nine of Wardin's annual games, and placed first in khait wrestling three times. He enjoys modest local fame for this and has used most of his winnings to buy more khait and khait accessories.

Goji is a relative newcomer and won first in the last two annual tournaments. This drawing depicts moments before his second win, where Brakul does, in fact, fail at his awesome maneuver and get wrenched off his khait.

Goji rides an intact bull, a relative rarity. He is an exceptionally placid and gentle creature, named 'Moose' after a strange and exotic beast from the north.

Khait wrestling among the Hill Tribes has dozens of local variants, but commonalities that distinguish these from the adopted Wardi tradition is that the goal is specifically to knock off the other rider AND mount their khait AND THEN lead both from the ring, and that it's done with actual saddles.

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Milfs Models Candidates

Okay, so after many suggestions and research I've found some more possible Milf Candidates for me to make in the future. I would say don't judge me... But I think that'd be a lost cause.

Milf 01. Tsuki Uzaki

Y'know it's funny, I actually hate Hana, like she is kinda insufferable to me, I feel bad for Shinichi... Her mother, and sister (And Maybe Brother?) on the other hand... Yeah Tsuki is a top Class Milf.

Milf 02. Mitsuki Bakugo

I love her look, her attitude, just a perfect Milf, I shouldn't have to say more...

Milf 03. Nana Shimura

Muscle Momm-'Cough, Cough' Sorry, anyways, I like Nana, in the same way I like Endeavor, that is to say I like how their flawed individuals. But her flaw is the same as Summer's, she cares too much about doing good to the point where she hurt those close to her... Honestly someone should've slapped some sense into her when she decided to abandon her son. Like I get it, she just lost her husband the big bad would've targeted him... BUT C'MON!!! WHY WOULD YOU THINK OFA WASN'T ALREADY TARGETING YOU!!! Like she gets some leeway because obviously after just losing her husband she couldn't have been in the right state of mind but someone should've realized that possibility.

Milf 04. Lusamine

I hesitated with her mainly because I'd have to use the Hair accessories for her, and wouldn't be able to make other hair styles convincingly. But Yeah I'll probably be making her soon, cuz damn man, she's up there with Cynthia.

Milf 05. Susan Luong-Long

I, and I'm sure a good number of guys (And Girls) who blame this character for our fascination with Asian mommies...

Milf 06. Delia Ketchum

Honestly lowkey one of the best Pokémon Milfs.

Milf 07. Pokémon Black & White's Mom

Yeah, Pokémon knows exactly what it's doing by making Milfs like this...

Milf 08. Johanna (Dawn's Mom)

I Love Her Design, it's rather simple but utterly perfect!

Milf 09. Grace (Pokémon X & Y's Mom)

A sporty, country, mom who looks like she's ready to ride a bull, they really didn't use her near enough.

Milf 10. Prof. Sada

She makes me return to monke... those abs make, that tan, her wild look. Just, y'know a lot of people bought Scarlet for her alone...

Milf 11. Pokémon Scarlet & Violet's Mom

Penny was right, their mom is hot... I prefer the model with paler skin and deep brown hair myself.

Milf 12. Pokémon Sword & Shield's Mom

Not gonna lie, never played sword or shield, but I gotta say, she is a pretty mom. I like the glasses look with the overalls, gives her a fun vibe. I feel like there'll be a shock factor if I put her in other outfits too, so that'll be fun to see.

Milf 13. Pokémon Black & White 2's Mom

Mostly I wanna make her cuz there is a absolute lack of content of her and I'm kinda digging the idea of making her look utterly different with her hair down.

Milf 14. Lila Test

Y'know, I already wanna make Susan & Mary Test for Dexter when I get to him, so why not the mom too.

Milf 15. Charlotte Pickles

These three images convinced me, at first I couldn't see it, but thank you Anon, I've been shown the light. I like Milf in suits apparently... I learned something new about myself.

Milf 16. Jane Jetson

Ahh, Boomerang, how I miss you, this is just a Atlas Mom to me, and I feel like this further proves my childhood interest in redheads...

Milf 17. Wilma Flintstone

Y'know, I would complain that I can't find a decent pic of Wilma without Betty in it... Wait, No I Wouldn't! She next anyways. Well, this only serves to prove the whole Redheads thing lil' me had going on. I'mma say there from a Secluded Vacuian tribe, fucking savages... Hot, hot savage Milf.

Milf 18. Betty Rubble

Cavewoman are justice, and need to reenter the genepool of Remnant.

Milf 19. Carol from OK K.O.

Okay, so recently someone's ask me to make characters from OK K.O. Let's Be Heroes. Specifically Fink & Wilhamena, and to that all I have to say is... HOW DARE YOU NOT MENTION CAROL!!! Dude! Tanned Muscle Mommy! Seriously, she looks like she could be a badass. Not sure how faithful to the design I can be, or well want to be but I definitely like this character.

Milf 20. Wilhamena from OK K.O.

I mean, I get why so many people brought her up, I am looking forward to making this design, seems like it'd be fun. Still kinow nothing about the show though...

Okay, Last four... Gonna get a bit weird, feel free to judge me -_-

Milf 21. Nicole Watterson

I'd probably use the middle design as her actual model in Remnant making her a Faunus. Her Semblance would be '2D' Which references her cartoon origin but also can me Two Ds/ Doppelgangers, but well neither actually look like her but she can share her senses with them or have them act independently.

Milf 22. Lin (Millie's Mom)

Not gonna lie, I wanna make her half to have her get hate fucked (At Least at first), not the most honorable of intentions but FUCK HER!!! I get she's Millie's Mom, and a seemingly good one, but she hates Moxxie Way Too Much! How Can You Hate Moxxie! He's Adorable and a utterly devoted Husband! What, Just Cuz He's Not Country Strong, Fuck Off, No, Fuck Her! Fuck All The Bitch Outta This Milf With a Big Human Cock!

Milf 23. Toriel from Undertale

She is Literally the Goat HAHAHA!!! Okay but seriously I kinda have to make her. There is just WAY too much content for me to have ignored her. I typed in Game Milfs and this Goat showed up more then the Pokémon Moms.

Milf 24. Mrs. Kattswell

... God Dammit, I'm a fucking furry...

[honeyangelkiwi]

Bull Riding & Boobies

Plot: Going to the bar and bull riding 🤷🏽‍♀️

Sexual Content: slight exhibitionism, grinding

Word count: 2.5k

The mechanical bull was throwing him around like he weighed nothing, but he was holding on for dear life, refusing to be tossed off. His hair was pulled into a loose bun on the top of his head. His head was thrown back in laughter, eyes crinkled shut, and with the widest smile on his face.

“I hate physical activity!” He hollered and everyone in the small bar laughed up at him. His friends were chanting for him to get someone up there with him and my friend did not hesitate to try and push me forward.

“No, there’s no way I can get up there with Harry fucking Styles! I can’t even believe we ended up in the same fucking bar as him!” I hiss at her as she still tries to push me forward.

“This is your chance, plus it’s your birthday! Just go!” She laughs at me and gives me a harder shove that actually makes me move forward a couple of steps. I turn around to see if anyone has noticed and, of course, I see one of his friends pointing at me.

Just as I am about to turn around and run for the hills, his head turns my way. The ride had come to a pause and it seems his friend had gotten his attention to turn towards me. I stood frozen, unable to move from his gaze. His eyes were sparked with mischief, adorning a matching smirk.

My best friend started pushing me forward again and all I could do was shake my head. I could see Harry start to laugh as he lifted his pointer finger to motion me over. I guess I didn’t have much of a choice now. I couldn’t say no to the Harry Styles.

I start to walk over, shocked, and face red with heat that could put hell to shame. As I approach, he looks down at me from his spot perched up on the fake bull and smirks once again. “Hope on up, love.” He says and pats the spot in front of him.

Shaking my head a little to clear the chaos and get a bit of confidence back I look up to him and smile sweetly. “Which way do you want me… love? Would you rather look at my chest or my backside?” I question, and wow where did that come from. I look back up at him through my thick lashes and see the shocked look on his face.

I could see how stunned he was, but he soon shook the feeling from himself and his eyes immediately darkened. I was so startled by the quick change that I subconsciously took a step back. With the smirk back on his face he reaches a hand down for me to take and helps me hop on, my back flush with his chest.

“I guess we know you’re an ass man then, Harry Styles.” The words tumble from my lips before my mind could catch up with my mouth. Before I could overthink I turned to look at him with a smirk and see he’s leaning into my ear. “I would say both, but for this specifically, I am definitely an ass man.” He says and I involuntarily shiver from the feeling of his breath cascading down my neck.

I can’t help the way my head falls back into his chest as my eyes flutter shut, the feeling going straight to my core. I feel his hands slide around me, one grasping my hip and the other grasping the handle in front of us.

“Couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have a free ride.” His voice drops lower as his mouth meets the skin just below my ear. Goosebumps rise across my skin understanding what he was implying. Who would have thought he would be so… filthy and straight forward in such a public space and with a stranger.

The grip he has on my waist is burning straight through me. His rings pressed into my skin and I can feel how clammy his hands were from the previous round he did up here. I glance to my side to see my friend staring at us, mouth on the floor. I simply shrugged at her, silently telling her ‘this was your idea.’

She laughs at herself and shakes her head, walking off towards the bar. Knowing her, she’s going to have a round waiting for us when this is over.

Having not been paying attention to the task at hand I jump, startled when the ride slowly starts moving. “Better hold on love, it doesn’t stay this easy.” Harry leans back down to my ear. The hand on my hip slides around my waist and pulls me back, until I am practically sitting on his lap.

I wiggle my hips around a bit to tease him. “You’re in for one hell of a free ride.” I chuckle towards him when I hear the smallest groan fall past his bright, pink lips, wet from licking them.

I still can’t wrap my head around him being so forward with a random girl, but I’m not complaining. I just can’t believe this is actually happening, and to me of all people, and on my birthday. Whatever God people believe in, I’m thanking him.

“I hope this is okay, love. Did I mention how gorgeous you are? I’m glad my friend put my attention on you.” He says into my ear, the bull starting to move around a bit more. His lips move down to my neck and leave a small open-mouthed kiss.

“Mmm, this may sound bad to say to a stranger, but it’s more than okay.” I tell him, moving my neck more to the side to give him more access, hoping he’ll keep up the gentle assault. “I have a feeling this is going to be one hell of a birthday present.” I say.

He pulls back a little to look down at me, eyebrows raised with a surprised look on his face. “Well then, should I wait to tell you happy birthday before or after your present?” If I wasn’t on this contraption my thighs would be pressed so tight together. The suggestion in his tone is fogging my brain. “How about after.” I tell him.

Just as he was about to respond the machine jerked particularly hard and sent my backside grinding right into his lap. I let out a gasp, only now realizing the hardness pressed up against me. The fact that I was wearing a dress that ended up laid out over the both of us instead of underneath my bottom made it easy to feel everything… and there was definitely a lot to feel.

“Jesus fuck.” He groaned out, head dropping to my shoulder. The machine continued to jerk around some more. It was both sending my ass back into his center and whipping us around like ragdolls. It somehow managed to be perfectly balanced, riling us both up some more.

I can feel how sweaty he is behind me. His arms coated in a thin sheen, glowing in the darkened room. It's coating through his shirt enough that I can feel it on my back, and it may seem weird, but I can’t wait to get a taste. His grip tightens on my waist briefly and I turn to look at him questioningly, only to see his gaze focused solely on my chest.

I can tell he wasn’t lying about being a boobs and ass guy, because if we weren’t up here right now, based on the look on his face, it would be buried into my chest. I can’t help but groan thinking of those diamond shaped lips wrapped around my nipples, sucking and biting them. I can see him teasing his hand down into my panties and praising how wet I was for him from a simple touch.

Still not believing that I was quite literally on Harry Styles fucking lap I glance around the small bar and see that no one is actually paying attention to us up here. I would assume it was because there weren’t many people here to begin with.

Suddenly, Harry’s arm that was around my waist lets go, and for a split second I panicked knowing I would go flying off if he wasn’t holding on. But just as quickly as he let go, he was grabbing onto me again, except this time his arm went under my dress to hold on to me.

“Still okay, love?” He asks, and I can’t lie, my heart fluttered at the way he was caring enough to make sure I was okay with everything. I tell him yes, and I can’t deny how turned on I am that he’s doing this. Turned on by the fact that anyone can look over at us and see his hand under my dress and the looks on our faces and know exactly what’s happening up here.

With another quick look around I turn and glance at him. His eyes are black, no longer green, the lust is pouring from him and the second we make eye contact the tension between us skyrockets. Deciding to take this further I pick up the rhythm of the ride, grinding back into him in time with the machine.

Aside from his hand being under my dress, from the outside it simply looks like we’re successfully maneuvering our way on this beast, not teasing each other up here. “You gonna come with me when we’re done up here?” He quite literally moans in my ear. His voice is several tones deeper, raspy, and laced with need.

“As long as you want me to. Nothing more I’d wa…” I couldn’t control the moan that fell from my mouth. The cheeky fucker decided it was the pefect time to take the hand that was holding onto me and move it to my core. He wasn’t shy at all, because he full on pulled my panties to the side and swiped his fingers from my entrance to my clit, stopping to rub a small circle.

My head fell forward as I gasped for air, shocked he was bold enough to do that up here. He pulled his hand back and I couldn’t stop the whine that fell from my lips, needing more than just the small, tantalizing touch.

“Harry, don’t fucking tease me. If you’re gonna touch me then do it and don’t stop.” I snap at him, turning my head in his direction, frustrated with the teasing. I wanted to slap the smirk right off of his face. “So fucking needy baby, don’t worry. I’ll take care of that ache between your legs. Get your belly in that feeling I know you’re craving right now.” And Christ does his filthy mouth make the wetness between my legs pool even more.

He glances around for a second before he suddenly grabs my hair and pushes me down so that my chest is flat against the ride. As soon as he does the machine starts jerking very violently, sending his hardness right up into my center with each movement.

It takes everything in me not to moan out, because every movement pushes him straight into my clit. The roughness of his jeans is very noticeable through my thin underwear. Being up here is doing nothing but sending us both spiraling and I can’t wait to get off. It seems like we’ve been up here for hours, but it couldn't have been more than two minutes.

There’s no way people don’t know what’s happening here. It takes one glance at us to see me bent over, face and chest flush against the bull, Harry’s hands wrapped in my hair and around my waist, and his hips driving into me at a sickening pace. If there weren’t clothes separating us his cock would be driving straight into the spot I crave him the most.

Harry bends over so his mouth hits my ear, moaning absolute filth to me while his hips continue driving into me. “If there weren’t people around right now love I would have my cock so deep in you you’d feel me up in your tummy. I can feel how wet you are, soaking me through my pants, gonna make it look like I came for you up here. Wanna have you bent over a counter right now so you can watch me in the mirror, fucking you so good I have to hold you up.” I can only moan, feeling myself clench around nothing.

“Fuck baby, I can feel you tryna squeeze me.” He moans, his face so close to my mouth that I can’t help but to reach out and kiss him. Only we both get thrown from the ride and I’m scrambling to keep my dress covering myself.

I catch my breath for a minute and glance over at Harry who is smirking down at his pants. There is, in fact, a wet spot right where we were attached and, although I’m still very turned on, I can’t help the need to look down, letting my hair fall across my face as a curtain to hide the embarrassment.

“Don’t be shy now, love. We’re just getting started.” He says and holds a hand out to help me up. He starts leading me away from the ride towards the bathrooms and if I wasn’t so turned on from the ride I would have refused, but it’s Harry Styles and I am turned on. So, to the bathroom we go.

I glance over my shoulder for my friend and catch her eye. The look she’s giving me let’s me know she saw what just happened and can’t fucking believe it either. I gave a shrug and waved my hand at her letting her know she can leave without me if she wants. She nods and then shakes her head laughing while leaving. Right before we walk into the bathroom she hollers happy birthday to me across the bar. Fortunately, no one was paying attention or everyone would see me walking in here with a guy.

Luckily, this is a single bathroom and it isn’t occupied. He swiftly locks the door and grabs my waist, shoving me into the door with just enough force that it’s still attractive. His lips are on my neck in an instant. “You looked so good bent over for me out there, love.” and he pulls back slightly to finally smash his lips onto mine………

[citruslullabies]

That last DogDay x reader fic was too cute (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) Would you pretty please do DD with a reader who jumps on CatNap's back to protect him only to be knocked over, and that's when DD finally finds the courage to fight his former best friend? I would appreciate some fluff afterwards 👉🏻👈🏻 Thank you!

Btw, your blog's aesthetic is so pretty :3c 🩷

Coming right up!! And awh, thank you! That's so sweet<333

Trigger warnings: blood, descriptions of violence

Requested by: anonymous 🩷

Romantic/platonic?: neutral (not specified)

Category: angst ending with fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): Dogday x reader

Word count: 620

You Saved Me, So I’ll Save You

Finding a friend with so many foes was a rare thing for your situation, but you were lucky enough to have found Dogday. The canine, despite its lack of legs, was loyal and forever in your debt for your kindness. You were his angel, his savior. That's why he never wanted you to get hurt.

But catnap ambushed you two, leaving you to try and defend two smaller beings against one large one with a bigger advantage. He watched in horror as Catnap approached him with eyes so dark and cruel, knowing that his former best friend would be the one to take his life.. or so he had thought. He slowly opened his eyes when he heard a loud cat-like scream echo the abandoned building, looking up to see you on his back while he was trying to get you off like some bull-riding competition.

“Dogday! Quick, get his legs or ankles or just, something-!” You called out desperately, feeling the large cats spine dig into your stomach and chest as you dug your feet into its ribs to try and balance yourself to stay on. Dogday tried to run with his old re-stitched back on legs, but found himself in a predicament.. he couldn't hurt Catnap. He couldn't bring himself to do so, the idea alone made him feel nauseated.

But that feeling quickly disappeared when he saw you fall and hit your head roughly against the ground, causing you to lose consciousness. His eyes widened as he panicked. “ANGEL!” he yelled out as he quickly dove to get to you, lifting your still breathing body up to his as he caressed your head.

“Angel? Angel wake up!” He said, panicking. His eyes only left from your face when he heard the crooning of a feline behind him, as if it was cackling as it moved at your despair. His body acted before his brain did, growling and quickly charging at the monster In front of him. That thing wasn't Catnap, it was a monster. Catnap had died in the hour of joy, a monster being housed inside of his former friend's body instead.

You gained consciousness with blurry vision, feeling bandages being wrapped around your head in various ways as if Dogday didn't know how to properly bandage your wound. He got it to stop bleeding so heavily, but he wanted to cover it quickly. You spoke up hoarsely. “Dogday..?” You asked in a weak wheeze, causing his ears to practically shoot up in relief. He immediately hugged you close and tight. “Oh god.. Angel, I.. I was so worried I thought.. I thought I lost you for a moment!” He said through whimpers and whines.

His fur was matted with blood, specifically around his mouth and paws. But he didn't care about that right now as he snuggled his head against you and held you dearly. You blinked slowly as you remembered what had happened.. before mustering your strength to sit up and hold Dogday close, cradling his head against your chest. You sighed and rubbed his back, smiling warmly at him. “Hey.. hey.. it's okay. I'm okay, see? I'm right here.”

Despite your reassurances, the dog continued to pathetically whine and nuzzle against you as tears fell from his eyes. “I'm so glad you're alive, I don't know what would've happened if I lost you. I don't want to imagine a world without you in it, Angel.” He said softly through sniffles. You carefully scratched behind his ear and felt him relax in your warm touch, your weak eyes filled with relief and adoration as you comforted him with a warm smile.

“I don't want to imagine a world without you in it either, sunshine..”

Thank you for the request!

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — bull-rider!MATTHEW TKACHUK x barrel racer!hughes!reader (can be read as an unnamed oc) wc — 1.8k synopsis — wear the hat, ride the cowboy—even if it might get you disowned.

note — there's one line referring to the reader as jack's twin, but no physical description is given. also, this one-shot is a "party favor" from our feb slumber party

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — quinn being a dramatic, misogynistic douche-canoe 3000 for the entirety (ratty matty has his moments, too), no actual smut but it's heavily implied they do the dirty on the reg, a disgustingly intimate situationship — ick, off-color comment(s) relating to first times and the concept of virginity, lots and lots of familial angst (jack is a snake), oh! and more than a few loose ends... but you know the drill by now, i'm incapable of keeping a story contained

“Go on, Palomino Princess. Ride me like one of your ponies.” 

Condescension drips from the lazy taunt. Matthew earns a palm to the chest for it; her ire lands with a faint thud, but he doesn’t mind. He gets off on riling her up, and after two years of backseat meetings and hushed phone calls, he’s damn good at it too. That, and she might be the most reactive person he’s ever met—and that’s saying something. 

Matthew’s been going head-to-head with all three of her brothers for over a decade, and he’s known their family for even longer. Having a short fuse must be genetic.    

“Y’won’t break me if that’s the hold-up. S’gonna take a hell of a lot more than a dry humpin’ buckle bunny to put me outta commission, sweetheart.” 

He knows damn well she ain’t anywhere close to the derogatory term, but he likes what the complete disregard for her accomplishments does to her deceptively cherubic face. 

It may look less harrowing than every other event on the card, but barrel racing ain’t for the faint-hearted. The event is a death wish personified, and it feels about as good as someone taking a metal pipe to both shins. It takes balls—metaphorically, in her case—to charge into an arena on an American Quarter horse with the intention of guiding it through a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels while sprinting at top speed, but it takes dedication and skill to succeed the way she has. The winner is determined by just thousandths of a second. 

The woman perched on his tailgate is unmatched—undefeated.  

Flames of pride lap at his loins, the fire of desire stoked by the wicked roll of her hips. 

“Ohh—shit!” Matthew hisses, his head lolling back as his hips buck into her heat. 

She smirks, apparently vindictive as ever. “How’s that, cowboy? Everything you dreamed?” 

“And more,” he growls as he grabs a fistful of her backside. 

His grip is tighter than it needs to be as he switches positions. Not nearly as rough as she would prefer it; beggars can’t be choosers.  

Matthew steps between her knees, and, despite herself, she shivers with anticipation. Chuckling, amusement twinkles in his baby blues. “Now give me a kiss, sweetheart. My lips are feelin’ a little lonely tonight, and you happen to be wearin’ my hat, Little Miss.” 

He flicks the brim of his hat. She catches it before it hits the ground before plopping it back on the rightful owner, the damage already done.  

“You just love that antiquated rule,” she shakes her head while most definitely laughing at his expense. “Y’wouldn’t see any action without it, now would you?” 

Matthew grins. Trading insults is his favorite form of foreplay. “Neither would you. Isn’t that your signature move, outlaw?”

“I should kick you to the back of the line with that attitude. Hell, I’d probably be better off keeping you at a distance anyway.” 

“Keep mouthin’ off and see how far it gets ya. Definitely nowhere near that McMansion castle you call home, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout me, sugar. I’ve got plenty of options if I need a ride home.” 

“I’ll bet, show pony. Sexiest can chaser east of the Mississippi; who wouldn’t be chomping at the bit to carry Cinderella home to her Daddy?” 

Men have a habit of gawking at her; Matthew has a habit of relieving them of their teeth. 

He leans in to taunt her ear with greedy lips and barbed arrogance. “Best of luck finding one that’ll fuck you better than me.”     

“Do you think about other guys fucking me often?” she fires without missing a beat.

More than he would like, actually.

With a heavy, drawn-out sigh, he runs a hand over his face. His patience is running thin, and his jeans are starting to chafe. Exasperated, he tries coaxing her to reason, “Sweetheart, c’mon. We both know you want this—want me. Stop makin’ this so damn hard.” 

“Why? Because you already are?” 

Matthew makes an exaggerated show of play-biting her scrunched-up nose. 

“Woman, you drive me insane.”

“It’s why you’re so obses—“ 

Her teasing is thwarted by the sound of her own name. Spat out of her older brother’s mouth like a heirloom gone sour, it's no great surprise Quinn looks at her like he can’t recognize her. Like a stranger—like a traitor. 

Guilt, thin and fleeting, pieces the tenderness between her ribs. 

She squirms, attempting to put some distance between them as if that could erase the discovery—and her culpability—from his mind. Matthew and his shit-eating grin keep her from getting too far but don’t be fooled. This is no chivalrous encouragement to stand her ground. It’s got nothing to do with her and everything to do with her brother. 

Quinn rages outside the hauler housing Matthew’s precious 3500 Laramie. Walking by, seeing the main trailer hitched Brady’s F-350 made his stomach churn. It didn’t sit right, and now he knew why. 

“You can’t be serious! Nuh-uh, no—no fucking way. Get out here before I drag you out myself.”  

At his tone, what little remorse she felt dissipates. They were both far too old for his tired, overbearing song-and-dance. 

“Who died and made you king?” 

Quinn, blinded by overripe anger, sweeps over the irritation, twisting her tongue and the disbelief arching her brow. “I thought I made myself clear last time. Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

“Oh, crystal, Quinny.” Matthew snorts at the juvenile nickname but is swiftly cajoled into silence with a pinch to the side. “Message received.” 

“Then quit screwin’ around and get your ass back to the truck before Dad blows a gasket. He’s been lookin’ all over for you. So, you best be thanking your lucky stars I got here first. That its me catchin’ you red-handed colluding with the enemy.” 

He’s so serious, nearly shaking with rage, it’s difficult not to laugh. She can count on one hand the instances wherein her brother became visibly angry—all of them involving the man standing between her dangling feet. She fares better than him, but that’s to be expected. Unlike her accomplice, for her, there’s real risk involved. 

“Just ‘cause I heard you don’t mean I have to listen.” 

Lips pressed to her temple, Matthew clicks his tongue in approval. ‘Bout damn time she started giving back what Quinn so readily dishes out. 

“Look, y’can spread your legs for anyone with big dreams and a buckle some other night. Parade around the circuit acting like a slut, see if I give a shit. But not tonight. And not with him.” 

The knowing glint in Quinn’s blackened eyes is telling, but it isn’t as menacing as he thinks it is. The Hughes heir apparent couldn’t be judge, jury, and executioner. He doesn’t have a lick of proof. Just suspicion and a personal vendetta the size of Texas. 

A safety net swaying below, Matthew decides to have a little fun. “Whoa, settle down, Trust Fund. Y’can’t talk to a lady like that, ‘specially not your sister.” 

He’s no white knight, but he can pretend. 

And isn’t that what you’re all doing? Pretending to be people you aren’t. Acting out your roles, putting on a show. After all, a performance will always be more entertaining than the truth. 

“—and here I thought etiquette classes were a Rodeo Royalty rite of passage. Glad t’know she ain’t the only roughneck hellion in your family tree, Huggy.” 

Quinn’s jaw tightens. His tongue threatens to put a hole through his cheek. Hands on his hips, the eldest sibling only nods. He ignores Matthew entirely. 

“Real winner y’got there. A class act. You really know how to pick ‘em—cream of the goddamn crop. Say, what’re you gonna do when he inevitably gets bored of you? When he gets his hands on a fresh doe-eyed virgin to tarnish?” 

After she finishes with Matthew, she’s kicking Jack’s sorry ass. 

Those anxieties—and that majorly personal tidbit of information—were shared in confidence. Because unlike her older brother, she trusted her twin. Well, she used to, at least. Luke’ll be over the moon at the chance to be her favorite. 

She bares her teeth like a scorned lapdog. “We’re not kids anymore, Q. You can’t push me around whenever you want or tell me what to do like you’re my father. And you sure as shit can’t bully me into submission, either. Give it up, or get lost.” 

“Whatever,” Quinn barks as he backs away from the trailer. “Your fuckin’ funeral.” 

Listening to the fading sound of her brother’s Ariats pounding through the dirt, she buries her face in the warm, familiar crook of Matthew’s neck; she needs a moment alone. He seems to understand this, his mouth zipped shut as he runs calloused hands up and down her sides. She’s breathing heavily, but he does her the simple mercy of leaving it be. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was growing on you,” Matthew hums, a low-maintenance attempt to lighten the mood. 

They don’t do the touchy-feely BS. It’s one of the things that reeled him in—and kept him coming back. 

“But you do.” She pulls away to look up at him, chin resting on his sternum. He hates that her melancholic eyes are red-rimmed. “—and stop thinking, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“And what does, princess? I’m dyin’ for your insight.” 

“Shut the door and I’ll show you.” 

He blinks, taken aback. Who is this brazen tart, and when did she take your place? Matthew wonders to himself. Maybe he is the bad influence everyone paints him as… He hasn’t really thought about it until now, and it's troubling the way it makes his chest tighten. 

Matthew clears his throat—and, from his mind, the distressing notion that he’s ruined someone good with his carelessness—as he leans over. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He pulls the hauler’s heavy metal door shut with clamorous finality.  

Matthew Tkachuk might be the most self-serving swindler on dirt, but Quinn Hughes is just another name on his list. A box to tick and then forget. He wouldn’t lose sleep, it wasn’t like their friendship meant a damn thing. Not anymore. A friend turned foe, reduced to another obstacle in his way, a hurdle to jump. 

Tonight, his sister’s fealty; tomorrow, his title.

Retribution is at his fingertips, so close he can taste it. Yet, it would seem that Matthew merely traded one hornet’s nest for another. 

At least this one’s easy on the eyes. 

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[2-dsimp]

Temothy seems like the type to get his coworkers fired by framing them if they were to say even a single bad thing about y/n.

Same if he thinks an employee is flirting with y/n.

He'll memorize y/n's specific schedule down to the when they even take a first sip of their coffee (or whatever beverage they like) while knowing even the exact temperature his darling seems to like the drink, but will never remember his coworkers' names for the life of him.

Temothy the Bull/Assistant wouldn’t really need to resort to framing them, after all he could just make them willingly resign at the drop of the hat. To save you from having to pay them that severance fee. Since digital footprints are real, with just a couple Facebook scrolls, and stalking their pages on Instagram, TikTok, Reddit, or Twitter. And boom he’s got a loaded casestudy ready to blow their chances of having a peaceful life goodbye.

And being your assistant of course he’s gonna remember every single name of your employees written documents. Alongside every detestable mug plastered right next to their calling card. He may be clumsy at times but he’s far from negligent about his duties in serving his darling to the fullest of his capabilities.

Just in case he’d ever need to keep the pests in check. With a few phone calls and a voice modifier he’ll leave death threats. Taking his sweet time in making them become paranoid and anxious. If he ever found them talking shit about his lovely boss or even worse flirt with them.

As if they ever had the privilege of being graced with your attention that was meant only for him. And Being the bull he is, The assistant won’t hesitate on following through via impaling them with his horns as if they were in a bull riding event.

All in all Temothy’s almost like a loan shark, he’ll somewhat remain silent in exchange for some fruitful favors from the pitiful suckers. So in reality Your assistant has a collection of disposable pawns to aide him on securing his boss’s love.