Ok, I just love this dude. Bareback, hackamore, with a perfectly behaved maligator trotting alongside. He looked like he was having a blast. Good for you, man!
Damn, I love a big buckskin/dun mule with leg bars.
"X-men is becoming woke!" I'm sorry, have we been seeing the same series?
The main teacher is a disabled man who uses a wheelchair. The team has a powerful African lady who is literally called a god. In some universes, she is in an interracial relationship with Wolverine. The three most powerful members of the team are Jean, Storm, and Rogue, who are ALL women. Bishop is a smart and powerful black man. Forge is Native American and is super smart and builds cool futuristic tech stuff. One of the protagonists is a chinese-american girl whose love interest is a dark-skinned Latino dude. Mystique is literally gender fluid and married to a woman. Mystique also got the woman pregnant by giving herself a penis, which is how Kurt was born. Kitty Pryde is confirmed to be bisexual. Magick is confirmed to be bisexual. Iceman came out as a gay man. Wolverine dated the literal actually HERCULES in one comic. Deadpool has been confirmed by multiple writers (AND THE MOVIE) to be pansexual, and even has a (VIATNAMESE) nonbinary love interest in one comic. The entire series is about minorities living in a society that despises them.
But yeah, sure. Complain about Morph, a SEXLESS SHAPESHIFTER WHO WAS BARELY EVEN IN THE ORIGINAL SHOW, being nonbinary and having a crush on Wolverine.
Xmen has ALWAYS been woke. It's a metaphor for oppression and how anyone who differs from the societal norm is treated terribly. OF COURSE they're going to have queer characters in there 💀
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.
.˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ⋆.
a/n: no hablo inglés y apenas escribo en inglés, voy a subir esto a pelo, cualquier error está hecho a propósito. estaba escuchando bad bunny cuando escribí esto.
bishop who had been at it for at least an hour, soft tongue licking all over your pussy. the inside of your thighs soaking his beard, dripping down your ass. bishop sat on his knees in front of the couch, his big hands under your thighs: shoving them into your chest.
“fuck baby, eat that pussy.” your breathing is heavy as your throw your head back. his lips latch onto your clit, if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s trying to leave a hickey on your clit.
the sounds are vulgar as he slurps you up, your eyes rolling back and your thighs start shaking around his head again, “I’m gonna cum, daddy, fuck.” he lets out a loud growl in response, shoving his tongue inside of you, tongue fucking your pussy.
your legs drop as you cum, bishop licking up all the mess; “fuck daddy.” you moan. he gives you clit on last kiss, kissing up your tummy, stopping to suck one of your nipples for a second before kissing you mouth; letting you taste yourself.
your eyes are locked on each other as he stands, unbuckling his belt slowly.
