BUCKIN' (Like A Mechanical Bull)
Pairing: Pope Cody x Fem!Reader
Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2.8k words Tags: Smut (18+ MDNI); semi-public; proper use of mechanical bull; no use of y/n; SPOILER FREE SUMMARY: There is a mechanical bull in this story. Somehow, Pope Cody gets on it. AO3 Link A/N: Heyyyyyy, been a minute. This fic is brought to you by a post someone made about Bull Rider!Pope Cody (Can someone find it so I can tag them pls). While I don’t know much about bull riding, I sure know how to ride a mechanical one.
This post is un-betaed, and I wrote it in my notes app after 1 too many glasses of rosé. I haven't published my writing in a while and it's my first time writing smut for a fanfic, so please be kind if you have any critiques. Hope you enjoy!!! <3
His strong thighs are the first thing you notice about Pope Cody. You’ve imagined running your hands along those same thighs; those thighs bracketing your head as you lick and suck at his cock; imagined leaving hickeys on the soft sensitive skin of his inner thighs as he begs and whimpers above you. Imagined grinding down on one of those thighs as you finally, finally taste the inside of his mouth. “Yo,” A long shadow cuts across your line of sight. You blink and you’re back in your body, sunbathing poolside at the Cody house, and the object of your desires is nowhere to be found.
Craig whistles before he snaps his fingers in your face as he calls your name, “You comin’ or what?”
You roll your eyes, “I’m not a fucking dog, jackass. I can hear you fine.” You get up and stretch before hustling to catch up to Craig. “And slow down! I don’t have fuck-you-long legs like you.” “Have you considered growing taller?” He asks fondly, sliding into the car with ease. “Sounds like a skill issue.” “oh, fuck off.” Irate, you hop into the passenger seat of the green jeep as he starts up the car. “Why are we going to this spot again? And are Pope and Deran meeting us there?”
“Didn’t I tell you this stuff earlier?” “Yeah, but you know that sound the adults in the Snoopy cartoons make whenever they speak?” At his confused look, you begin to make trumpet noises at him before gesturing as if to say this is what I hear coming out of your mouth. Craig levels you with an unimpressed look as he speeds off.
—
So, yeah. Job. That’s why you’re at this western themed bar at the ass end of Oceanside.
And you’re not particularly impressed by the kitschy look of the place until you get inside. Tucked into a corner, beneath the hallowed glow of a spotlight, a mechanical bull. Your mind starts blessing you with the image of Pope Cody riding that mechanical bull, his thick thighs clutching on as he undulates with it.
You feel your cheeks get hot at the thought and you quickly take a sip of the beer Craig slides in front of you, his eyes following your line of sight. “Oh, you gonna take a ride and give us a show?” He teases.
You shove him, “Hell no!” At that exact moment, Pope walks in with Deran and, like he just instinctively knows where you are, he turns and finds your table. The pair walk over, and in a fit of pique, you say, “I’ll do it if Pope does it.” “Does what?” Pope asks in his usual detached manner, pulling the seat next to you, eyes roving the space. You can tell he’s already mapping all the exits to this place.
The heat of his thigh pressing against yours is unbearably distracting.
“Ride the mechanical bull.” Craig says, and shares a laugh with Deran. Pope pauses, and looks at you as you shake your head and mime a knife going across your throat. You see a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
“What do I get out of it?”
Pause. What?
“All drinks paid for.” Craig says quickly. “20% of your cut from this job.” Pope responds.
You feel your eye twitch as the pair of them negotiate and Deran catches your eye, rolling his eyes at Craig’s antics. You mouth a “please make it stop” and almost miss when Pope says, “deal.”
“What?” You say in disbelief as Pope drains his beer before his hand encircles your forearm, tugging you out of your seat and towards the mechanical bull. “Pope, you know that I wasn’t being serious, right? I’m not getting on that thing.” “Well, I made a deal with Craig,” Pope says as he nods at the operator. Behind you, you can hear Craig and Deran’s laughter. You dig your heels in, trying to stop him. He feels you resist and turns, looking at you with his serious, hazel eyes.
He leans in close, and you can feel his breath against your cheeks. You can feel your face heat up as the space between you disappears. He says quietly in your ear, “I’ll split the money with you.” And just as you think your heart might burst out of your chest, he adds, “and I wanna see how you ride.”
What.
Cool air rushes in where his face used to be, and you allow yourself to be led along. Pope pays the mechanical bull operator and lets go of you with a quiet, “stay.”
You nod, and gulp as he climbs onto the mechanical bull. It’s your fantasy come to life, and you lean against a post as you try to commit the image of him to memory for later. He looks powerful, his thick thighs astride the red saddle. His eyes are trained on the wall as he wraps the rope around his strong hand. The light above makes him look holy, his deep brown curls burnished auburn.
And then the bull begins to move.
Everything seems to move in slow motion.
His thighs tighten as he fights to stay on, hand tugging on the rope hard. The skin at the base of your skull tightens as you picture his hand tugging your hair instead.
The bull bucks and spins once.
Suddenly, with a grunt, Pope is on his back on the ground, looking as if he can’t quite comprehend how he ended up there.
You can’t help the laugh that comes out of your mouth as you clap. The timer on the wall reads 2 seconds. Deran and Craig laugh and whoop for their brother. You hear Craig call your name as he yells, “Your turn! Better hold on for dear life!”
Pope steps out of the ring and you can’t help but notice him favoring his side, “You okay?” You touch his arm. He grimaces, “I’ll be fine. Your turn.”
You take a deep breath, and ask, “You’ll watch me, yeah?” He looks confused for a moment before saying, “Where else would I be?”
You give him a smile before you step into the ring. Somewhere in the bar, you hear the familiar strains of Ya Ya by Beyoncé begin to play. You do a little wiggle to the melody as you approach the bull. You hop onto the saddle with ease, your cut off jean shorts riding up as your own bare thighs settle on the bull. You flip off the general direction of the table where Craig and Deran sit as you hear Craig whoop and holler. You can feel Pope watching you, and you straighten your back. The bull begins to move under you, and you remind yourself to move like water. You let your body roll, hips moving as the bull bucks and spins, riding for your life. Pope is watching, do NOT fuck this up.
When you finally fall off the bull, a respectable 45 seconds later, you get up and skip over to Pope, who has an unreadable look on his face, “Well?” He says, “I wish-“ when a particularly loud whistle from Craig interrupts his thought. You both look over to Craig waving you over.
Pope then simply says, “Great job,” Before turning and walking back to the table. Your heart sinks a little at the terse response, trailing after him to the table where Craig and Deran tease Pope for his poor showing on the bull.
—
Later that night, you’re sitting on the couch back at Smurf’s, icing your thighs as a nature documentary plays on the TV. Background noise.
You spot some movement out of the corner of your eye, and look up to see Pope joining you on the couch. The concern in his face as he spots your developing bruises is endearing, and you can’t help but explain, “I bruise easy. Don’t want my legs to look like Pollock paintings tomorrow.”
“Is that why you didn’t want to get on the bull?” Pope asks quietly.
“Nah. I mean, partly. I also just didn’t want to give Craig the satisfaction of watching me on the bull.”
Pope’s fingers play with the frayed edge of the colorful throw blanket. You let the silence wash over the pair of you. “How are your thighs doing?”
He shrugs. “Fine.”
You look over at him, so stoic in the evening light, and set aside the frozen bag of peas. “I don’t believe you.” He looks up at you in suspicion. “Show me.”
Suspicion morphs into confusion. “what?” his voice goes up, incredulous.
“I think you hurt yourself more than you let on.” you say firmly as you stand up and walk over to him. “take off your pants and show me.”
“My thighs are fine, I was barely on the damn thing.”
“Pope…”
He frowns at you, and you frown back, trying to show him how serious you are about this.
“Take them off for me.”
You freeze. “what?”
“You wanna check my thighs out so bad, you do it.”
“Fine!”
“Fine.” he gestures to his fly, leaning back and spreading his legs as he crosses his arms. Brat.
Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, and your cheeks grow warm. Never one to back down from a challenge, you kneel between his legs and begin to unbutton his pants. The denim is soft and warm under your hands. The room gets awfully quiet, the snick of the zipper loud in your ears as you pull, slowly revealing his black boxer briefs.
You can’t help but notice the bulge underneath the cloth.
Your hand brushes over it as you reach up to pull his pants down by the waistband. He says nothing, lifting his hips to help you on your mission. Slowly, dark denim moves down, revealing more and more of the pale skin of his muscular thighs to you. Like a gift, you unwrap him slowly, until his pants are pooled around his ankles.
His thighs. Pale skin wrapped around thick muscle.
You spot some redness closer to his knee, a blooming bruise. You tsk and run your hand over it, feeling the warm skin there. You look up at him, and find him looking down at you with a heat in his eyes. His chest rises and falls as you look at each other. You run your hand up his thigh, and still looking up at him, you ask, “Can I make you feel better?” He nods slowly.
You press a kiss to the bruise, and then another up his thigh, and another. As you reach the hem of his boxer briefs, you pause, looking up at him, face hovering close to where the bulge has grown significantly. Your cunt clenches around nothing as you hear his quiet whimper. “May I?” You whisper against his skin.
“Please,” he breathes out.
You smile up at him before nuzzling the length of his cock with your cheek. One hand slips under your shorts to circle your clit as you mouth at him, finding the tip and sucking on it through the cloth. He moans, and you moan around his cloth covered length, the material soaking up your spit.
Somewhere deeper in the house, a door opens.
You pull back, face beet red. You pull his pants up quickly, and throw the blanket over his lap before getting up to move to the other side of the couch. Or you try to, but Pope pulls you down so you’re half sitting on his lap.
“Pope!” You whisper, trying to wriggle away, but his arm wraps around your waist and keeps you in place, his hand settling at the top of your bare thigh.
“Stop.” He whispers in your ear.
J appears in the hallway, eyeing the pair of you suspiciously as he walks past. He looks at you, and asks, “You good?” You nod. He nods back, eyes lingering on the arm around your waist. He continues into the kitchen without another word.
You pretend to watch TV, though Pope’s making it difficult as he flexes his thigh under your legs, and the hints of friction against your center are making you want to grind against his leg fully.
J reappears with a glass of water in his hand. “Night.” He says as he walks past and back down the hallway towards his own room.
The door closes with a creak.
“Jesus, that was-“
“I wished it was me.”
“What?” you turn so you’re facing Pope. His hands move to your hips as your legs bracket his right thigh.
“The mechanical bull,” he says, cheeks pink as his hands begin to slowly push and pull at your hips so you’re grinding against him. “I wished it was me you were riding like that.”
He says it breathlessly, and your face heats, the warmth rushing down to the skin of your chest. “Yeah?” you whisper as you let your hips move against his thigh like you’re back on the bull.
“Yeah,” he whines as your own thigh presses against his hard cock. The friction is delicious as the pair of you grind against each other, and you’re sure the gusset of your shorts is soaked from how wet you are.
One of his broad hands glides up your body and slips into your hair, tightening right at the base of your skull and pulling. You gasp at the feeling, hips picking up speed as you feel yourself get more turned on. He leans up and begins peppering kisses on your neck.
Your own hands slip into his soft curls, nails scraping against his scalp. The hand on your hip slides up your back, anchoring you against him. You’re so lost in the sensation of his thick thigh tightening and relaxing under your cunt that you almost miss his whispered babbling.
“…fuckin’ obscene… wished it was just the two of us… wanted to be… inside… you… ngh”
You feel a warmth spread beneath the thigh pressed against his clothed crotch, and the thought that he came just from the thought of being inside you helps you right over the edge. you push your face against his forehead as you cum, whimpering quietly against the skin there.
You stay like this, holding each other in the darkened living room as your heart rates slow back down. He leans against the back of the sofa, and you allow yourself the indulgence of leaning down and tucking your head under his chin. You listen to his breathing slow.
“So, you wanna try that again, preferably without clothes?” You ask as you nuzzle into his neck.
He says nothing, the only reaction is his breath hitching. He cups your chin and moves back so he can see you. His eyes have a slightly glazed quality to them. Despite this, he looks at your face intensely, as if committing the individual parts to memory. His eyes land on your lips, flicking back up to your eyes briefly before turning his focus back to your lips.
He leans in, and you follow suit.
Laughter comes from the foyer as the front door opens.
You startle and fall off Pope’s lap, landing on your butt with a thud and a groan. Pope’s hands reach for you as you scramble to the other side of the couch.
Craig and his squeeze of the night stumble into the living room. “Oh, uh, occupado…” Craig says drunkenly as he spots Pope first, then you. “Let's go to my room baby.” The pair stumble off to Craig’s room, the door not doing much to hide the sounds of what was about to happen next.
You can’t help the giggle that comes out of your mouth. Pope looks at you, perplexed, and you mimic Craig’s voice, “Occupado… I mean, Christ, were they about to fuck on the couch?” You see Pope open his mouth and quickly say, “Don’t answer that. I don’t need to think about Craig’s bare ass on these cushions.”
Pope grimaces, and says, “Come here.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I’m thinking about Craig fucking someone on this couch and I think my vagina just shriveled up and died.” You stand and stretch, knowing Pope is watching as your shirt rides up with the movement. “I’m going to bed.”
You drop the bag of peas back off in the freezer before walking back to the living room, where Pope sits stiffly in the dim glow of the TV. You walk over to him and press a kiss to his forehead.
“Good night Pope.” you say, and quickly add, “I’ll leave my door open if you want to join me…”
You spin playfully out of his reach before you walk down the dark hallway to your room. Behind you, you hear the TV turn off, and as you slip into the covers in your room, you can already hear Pope’s quiet footsteps as he moves to join you.
A/N: I will accept silly reaction memes in lieu of comments. Thanks for reading. <3