ian‪

option 1: enemies to friends to lovers

autistic Bishop it's a reality ...

of course babythey !!

Euphoria AU

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

When Alamo wouldn't listen, Bishop would.

When Alamo wouldn't see, Bishop would.

Even when Alamo didn't take things seriously, Bishop did.

After all, he was the head of everything, the one who ran things, gave orders, handled the drugs, the girls, and the guns. Everything.

So, yes, Bishop was Alamo in essence, but he liked to keep a low profile, and also to surprise people. It wasn't easy to go unnoticed, though. If someone was paying very, very close attention, he was always caught looking at something suspicious, even if it was just out of the corner of his eye. He was always caught, but he wasn't the first to look away.

Despite his leadership, Bishop hated the idea of killing or causing harm. He only did it when the situation was out of control, when he had no other choice. He wasn't a religious man, but he prayed and asked God for forgiveness for the sins he committed, even if he knew he wouldn't receive it.

And the club? Well, he let Alamo make the decisions there, which girl he wanted to sleep with after work and which he didn't, but Bishop stayed close to some of them, asking them to look out for each other, to support each other, and not to fight.

But when new girls arrived, he evaluated them, examined their faces, how their lips looked, their eyes, how their teeth looked when they smiled, how they walked, how their nails were, the size of their breasts and their asses. Everything. He made a long mental list and advised Alamo on which ones should stay and which ones shouldn't.

It was exhausting being someone like him. Exhausting having to organize everything, getting home in the wee hours of the morning and barely being able to sleep, because he had to wake up half an hour later to continue with that damn job.

But at least he could relieve his stress with his girlfriend.

His beautiful and sexy girlfriend.

You knelt before him as he sank onto the sofa with a low sigh, letting his body relax and close his eyes for at least a few seconds.

You knew what time he'd arrive, what mood he'd be in, and how to calm him down. And of course, you had to look beautiful for your boyfriend.

You wore one of his shirts, completely unbuttoned, revealing your lacy underwear, the fabric barely covering your breasts. Your hair was loose, though you usually wore it up; he'd get hard just watching it fall over your face, covering one eye.

His hand moved down to your hair, caressing it, then up to your cheek. You smiled and turned your head to place a kiss on his palm, kisses that traveled up to his wrist.

“Did you miss me, doll?”

He whispered as your cheek rested against his thigh, your eyes shining and filled with a longing you couldn't satisfy on your own.

You and Bishop had sex, but it was rare, and when you did, the bed would break or the headboard would bang against the wall, leaving marks. It was lucky you didn't have neighbors to hear, because it would be exhausting to hear you screaming your boyfriend's name until you were practically crying with pleasure, or the sound of the spanking echoing through the walls and reaching the front door. Even when Bishop was usually quiet, his grunts would drown out your screams.

But yes, you hadn't had sex lately, and he was under a lot of stress.

“I missed you so much.”

Bishop seemed to suppress a smile when you spoke to him like that, seeing your flushed cheeks and your eyes pleading for more of his caresses and words. Those loving nicknames he used for you made you incredibly wet.

“Yeah, baby?”

His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling your face to his, kissing you slowly, but with a hunger that left no doubt he desired you desperately at that very moment, that he could take you and make love to you for as long as he wanted. But you also had your needs and wanted to soothe your boyfriend's anxiety and worries.

“A lot…”

And no matter how much he tried to hold back, that voice of yours made it impossible for him to resist.

For the next 10 minutes, your lips were surrounded by his thick, long cock, hitting the back of your throat, with the obscene sounds of it, your gagging and moans, and of course, his grunts, which were essential to the whole scene.

Bishop discarded his coat, unbuttoning his perfectly pressed shirt, his torso bare, beads of pearly sweat glistening on his dark skin.

He grasped your hair, smoothing it, brushing away the strands that fell across your face, using that grip to guide your movements, taking it deeper and deeper, in sync with the movements of his hips, pressing your nose against his pelvis, the pubic hair he'd shaved a few weeks ago tickling your nose.

The gagging and scratches on his thighs weren't unusual; in fact, Bishop really enjoyed it when your nails left scratches on his thighs. He knew how much it excited you to be used this way, begging for mercy with the gagging and scratches. Even when your eyes looked at him, filled with unshed tears, he would tilt his head back and mutter curses under his breath, biting his lower lip.

You loved feeling his body tremble. You knew that was when he was close to coming. You loved it when he did, because he would curse and moan in a way that left your cunt soaking wet, so much so that afterward he would tease you for getting you so wet just from giving him a blowjob, but you barely cared.

“I’m gonna cum soon, doll…”

He said between breaths, looking back at you, still lifting your hips so you could take him completely, moving your head up and down, listening to his breathing become heavier, more desperate, more urgent, more…

You felt him tense up, plunging his cock fully into your mouth, hitting your throat, releasing his seed, going straight to your stomach, taking it all, like a good girl.

Bishop gasped, growling softly, letting go of your hair, his hands resting at his sides on the sofa, his eyes closed. You recovered quickly, lifting your head and releasing his semi-flaccid cock from your mouth with a moan, cleaning your lips with your tongue, completely wet and lubricated by your saliva and your boyfriend’s fluids combined.

“You did great, doll… Now come up here and give me a goodnight kiss.”

You smiled at him with those swollen lips, red cheeks, and teary eyes—that silly grin you wore when he flattered you and gave you another order.

You immediately stood up, sitting on top of him, finding his lips, letting him taste himself in your mouth, moaning and biting your lower lip, moving his hips upward, feeling how wet your underwear was with his cock.

“You got wet just from sucking me off, baby?”

And of course, his teasing came, sooner or later, it always did.

.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ⋆.

what if i write about bishop x masc!reader ???

idk, i don't think that he's totally straight so i will definitely write something about him and his “bisexuality” BECAUSE IT'S PRIDE MONTH !!!

bishop pays u to take care of his dog EHEHEHEHEHEHE 🤑🤑🤑

or

uuuhhhhhhhhhhhh ... idk, this is so stupid look at him and his stupid ass dog hajahajahajshaj omg i love him

see ya later

120.

Bishop wasn't exactly someone who was attached to certain people; all he did was his job, carry out Alamo's orders, and not screw things up. Simple.

But in recent weeks, he'd found himself entangled in some “situations,” something he couldn't get out of his mind, pushing the situation to the breaking point.

You'd gotten the job at the club through a friend; she'd promised you quick and easy money, something you were desperate for.

The nights were slow and stifling, filled with men and those lights that left you as blind as the smoke from the joints Alamo lit. As for him, he'd been a kind of "decent" boss, guiding you on your path to the club, and of course, you'd had sex with him to get where you were now.

The day you met Bishop was the day you arrived at the Alamo mansion. He wasn't going to forget how beautiful you looked in that mermaid-style blouse and the miniskirt that barely covered your ass. And of course, that lipstick that kept him mesmerized, admiring the way your lips trembled with nerves that night. And when your gaze met his, he felt his breath quicken and his throat feel strangely dry, a sensation that made him feel uneasy all over.

“April” wasn't your real name, but it was when you started working at the club that your coworkers gave it to you. Even though your birthday was in October, you quickly got used to the nickname. It was nice.

The first week you started, Alamo was more than happy to see the profits you began to generate, the natural way you captivated the men around you, tempting them like a snake, taking their money by the handful with every sway of your hips on stage.

So much so, that Bishop himself swore you could take money from him too if he had you like that for just one night.

And so it was.

After a long night of work, at 4:37 AM, Bishop was your driver that night, dropping you off at your apartment, offering to let you in at the door, making sure you got home safe and sound, even though he knew that wasn't his only intention.

Fifteen minutes later, you were sitting on his lap, kissing him passionately, panting softly against his lips. His shirt lay next to the jacket you'd put on for cover. You were still in your club attire, as if your workday wasn't over yet, moving your hips in slow, torturous circles on his lap. You felt the hardness of his erection brush against the folds of your delicate lace thong, feeling it moisten with just that touch.

Bishop had made you nervous from the first time you spoke, but as the days passed, he realized that you were like that for no reason. You were always on high alert, and he understood; it was your job. But right now, he wanted nothing more than to keep kissing you and guiding your movements on his erection.

“How much you're gonna cost me?”

A whisper escaped Bishop's lips between kisses, his hands gripping your buttocks, squeezing them and pulling you closer, lifting your hips so you felt him completely, making you sigh and gently arch your back.

“$150 for an hour...”

“... Just one hour?”

You pulled back slightly at his words, your nose brushing against his, his gaze a soft plea. The idea that he wanted you for more than an hour was unexpected, and obviously, money wasn't an issue for Bishop.

You moved forward, your lips meeting his again, your hands gripping his jaw, holding him close, kissing him with a hunger you never imagined you had for a man.

“$500 and I'm yours for as long as you want.”

You sighed against his lips, kneeling on the mattress, slowly starting to pull down your thong, your eyes never leaving Bishop.

But before you could remove it completely, Bishop grabbed your hips, turning you over on the bed, positioning himself on top of you. His hands moved down to yours, preventing you from taking the thong off completely.

“Keep it on.”

He whispered against your lips, his hand sliding down. His fingers found your pussy, still covered by your clothes, feeling how wet you were. He sighed against your lips, but didn't kiss you, studying your every expression, moan, and sigh.

You moaned a whispered curse as you felt Bishop slide your thong to the side, leaving your pussy completely exposed. His fingers found their way to your folds, caressing them, moistening his fingers, using your fluids as a lubricant to begin stroking your clit. At the same time, his free hand slid down to his aching erection, freeing it from his pants.

Your moans soon followed. His thumb stroked with the perfect pressure to make your legs tremble, gently pressing your thighs against his hand. He leaned down to your thighs, starting to kiss them, first the left, leaving kisses and hickeys that you knew would take at least an hour to cover with makeup.

Then, he moved to your right thigh, taking his hand away from your clit to cup it, lifting it so you rested it on his shoulder. He left kisses there too, but these kisses trailed down to your cunt, kissing your labia, his tongue darting out to collect the fluids escaping your entrance, licking, then sliding his tongue in to explore you.

His free hand caressed the aching head of his cock, grunting against your wet pussy, his tongue flicking out from your entrance to caress your clit. And when he did that, oh, your world shrank to how talented his tongue was, making you arch your back and reach down into his hair, holding it there, not wanting that pleasurable sensation to end so soon.

You moaned and lifted your hips to take more of him, raising your left thigh to his shoulder, now leaving him no escape, feeling his free hand grip your thigh and squeeze it before sliding down to your ass and slapping it, making you tremble and gasp his name in a cry of surprise. Then, both his hands moved to your buttocks, abandoning his needy, aching cock, squeezing your cheeks and pressing your pussy to his mouth. Your moans were tortured, almost like you were crying with pleasure, moaning his name aloud, loving the way his tongue licked and his lips sucked your clit.

Bishop responded with a soft laugh, but without the corners of his lips lifting. This man was strange.

The sex was incredible; you couldn't remember the last time someone had made you come so many times.

But even things that begin, must end.

You woke up in bed, out of your dancer outfit, feeling your hair bothering your face. You brushed it away, beginning to regain consciousness after such a long sleep.

Reaching out, you felt the side of the bed was still warm, and opening your eyes, you saw Bishop sitting on the edge of it, putting on his shoes and getting up to pick up his shirt and coat. He put them on, his gaze shifting to yours.

“Did you sleep well?”

"Yeah. And you?"

“Me too.” You two talked as if nothing had happened; it was more cordial than a conversation, really, but who could blame you? You both been like that for quite a while.

“See you tonight.”

“Yeah, goodbye.”

And with that, Bishop left your apartment, closing the door behind him, leaving you alone, still with the warmth of his body and his scent on your sheets, with the memories of his bites, kisses, and caresses all over you.

When you turned over in bed, you saw five $100 bills Bishop had left behind. You had completely forgotten about them.

Everything was back to normal; no one knew what you had, even as you felt him leave your bed, the words “I love you” threatened to escape your lips.

.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ⋆.