I don’t like this trend in media where struggling characters “have” to die. why aren’t addicts and outcasts allowed to have happy or hopeful endings anymore. I know things are bleak and people die but holy shit. the one grace of media is that you can CHOOSE to live in the best reality possible where EVERYONE can move on with their life and things can get better, not this defeatist nonsense.
maddy is for sure a mean top. very bossy and she always wants her way, and she gets her way. she’s not persuasive at all and if you do something that pisses her off, she’s standing on whatever punishment she has for you.
rue on the other hand is very sweet. she’s always very lenient with you and her words are always sweet like honey. she can be assertive but her words are never sharp like maddy’s. it works, really well. it’s a balance in your relationship.
especially during sex.
like now, you were on the bed between rue’s legs as she held your titties in her hands, her fingers wiping against your sore nipples every now and then. maddy was between your legs, her knees keeping your legs open so your puffy pussy was in full display for her to use. she had this vibrator attacking your clit for a while now. overstimulating your clit until your close to making a mess but then taking the toy away, edging you and teasing you for thinking she was gonna let a bad girl cum.
“you wanna cum? you think i’m gonna let you cum when you pulled that earlier, you brat.” maddy spat the words out of her mouth, moving the vibrator away from your pussy. you cried at the action, sinking into rue’s arms in despair, this isn’t the first time maddy edged you, and you knew she was far from being done. “bad girls don’t cum.”
“my baby isn’t a bad girl, isn’t that right, baby? let maddy know you’re a good girl.” rue kissed you next, whispering softly in your ear. “please, maddy. i’ll be good, i’ll be a good girl please let me cum, please.” maddy rolled her eyes at the audacity. laughing at your attempt, she’ll respect it. “it’s too late for that bullshit. don’t let rue trick you.”
you whined at the response, your pussy clenching around emptiness. you were desperate for a release, desperate for maddy to have a change of heart. “don’t listen to her, baby. you’re my good girl.” rue’s hand left your titty, reaching down to your leaking pussy. she sunk her fingers inside of you, keeping them still and keeping you full. “sometimes good girls need reminders, yea?”
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.
Could you maybe do something about being friends with Rue and is stuck with her in the same situation. You both left Laurie and are now working for Alamo and while working for him that's how you get with Bishop ? Eeeek if that makes sense please ty
i gave it some lesbianism
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the only one — Rue Bennett x Reader/Bishop x Reader
★
Living with Nazis wasn't something you expected to experience in your short, miserable, and pathetic life.
But Rue was your friend. You loved her, loved her like no other girl in the world. You met her after Laurie tracked her down after years of searching, owing her millions of dollars for a suitcase full of drugs—money she never paid back, money Laurie let slip by for ages, with that unwavering patience of hers.
Money came and went, but not this. It was $10,000 worth of drugs, meant for Rue, in her lazy and stupid way, to finally get high.
And you? Well, threats. Your father, an addict who had swindled Laurie, and when he was murdered, they took you in. You would do the work he hadn't. Laurie tried to be understanding, but Harvey wasn't as patient as she was. He was resentful, just like the other three members. Basically, it was four of you against the peaceful drug dealer.
So, yeah, you met Rue under strange and disgusting circumstances, as a mule, swallowing pellets of fentanyl, with an absurdly high risk of dying.
Because, just imagine it, a single bag of fentanyl, bursting inside you, all your organs starting to rot. It was better to shit yourself until you crossed the border, disgusting, but less embarrassing than looking like a pregnant woman with a stomach full of fentanyl.
But despite everything, Rue was always very kind, she was funny, you talked about stupid things, she talked about her ex-girlfriend, which made you feel a little resentment towards her, but Rue spoke of her as if she were an angel fallen from heaven, as a savior for her, which definitely made you feel sorry for her, seeing how her eyes lit up just at the mention of her name, or hearing that story over and over again about how her ex dumped her at the train station.
You were always there for her, doing drug deliveries, trips, everything. You were always together, because Rue was Rue. She needed supervision one way or another, she needed that support, to talk to a girl her own age. There was Faye, sure, but she was too busy flirting with that damn Nazi Wayne.
And Rue wouldn't say it out loud, but she'd developed a slight attraction to you. I mean, she was crazy about feminine, strong-willed girls, but above all, she loved boobs, and she'd seen them more than once. You were both women, and you'd never judge her for being a lesbian, so you didn't have a problem with her seeing you half-naked.
She remembered every mole, freckle, and mark on your torso, even the size of your breasts, the left one being slightly larger than the right, and she was dying to grab them and leave marks. But you weren't attracted to girls, what a shame.
Despite Rue's lustful desires, you never actually had that conversation, assuming Rue saw you as a friend, just as you saw her—a bond of friendship that left no room for romantic feelings.
One night, Wayne sent you to the outskirts of California, to the mansion of a certain Alamo Brown. He warned you not to screw things up, which made you sigh when Rue told you to come along. Just thinking about the name made you imagine a gangster, covered in rings and with prostitutes dancing for him.
“Don't be nervous, okay? It's just a matter of getting there and leaving.”
Rue was driving, with you in the passenger seat. Her hand moved to your thigh, giving it a gentle pat to ease the tension that was coursing through your body. You shrugged, the fanny pack full of drugs clutched in your hands, staring at the nearly deserted road, listening to the audiobook of the Bible that Rue had suddenly become obsessed with. You rolled your eyes as you smiled softly at her words.
“Yeah, I know, but Laurie never mentioned this guy before… I can’t help feeling a little nervous.”
Rue glanced at you and gently squeezed your thigh before moving her hand to the gearshift. The mansion that was coming into view caught her eye, and she sighed, getting closer and closer to the drop-off location.
Upon arriving, you both noticed the silhouette of a man standing in the parking lot. You muttered under your breath, staring at the man standing like a statue, waiting for them as if he'd been there for hours, making you incredibly nervous.
“You go out.”
You handed her the fanny pack, placing it on her lap. Rue looked at you, slightly nervous, cursing herself, glancing back as the garage door closed, trapping them both inside.
“Okay, let’s do this. Stay here.”
She got out of the car, fanny pack in hand, looking at the man standing in front of her. She handed it to him, and he opened it, looking at the contents. He glanced back at Rue, then at you, making you shrug and smile nervously.
But what seemed like a quick and easy exchange turned into a stomach-churning mess when Rue spoke to him, walking into the mansion without even looking at you. You swore and put a hand to your face.
“This weak bladder…”
You sighed, rubbing your eyes with one hand, looking back at the man in front of you, your gaze locked for what felt like an eternity, feeling sweat begin to form on your back, nerves and anxiety rising through your body.
As minutes, almost hours, passed, you saw that Rue wasn't coming back. You cursed under your breath, leaning your head back on the seat, putting your feet up and closing your eyes, trying not to think so much about time, about how long Rue was taking, about how nervous this whole situation was making you, how Laurie never mentioned Alamo…
You opened your eyes when the window softly rattled, looking out to see the same man with the afro standing in front of the car. You bit your lip before rolling down the window, leaning out and giving him a nervous smile.
“Get out of the car.”
You blinked repeatedly, glancing to the side, searching for Rue. When you didn't see her, you looked back at him.
“Where's Rue?”
“Don't make me repeat myself.”
You swallowed hard before opening the car door and getting out, closing it behind you. Instantly, the man grabbed your arm and made you groan, dragging you inside the mansion, up the stairs, almost pulling you through the hallways, until you reached Alamo's office.
Rue was there. She turned to look at you, biting her lower lip, then back at Alamo. They had made a deal: for taking one of his girls with that supposed fentanyl, Alamo would see if God trusted Rue, and if so, he would give her the chance to work at the strip club with him. Including you.
★
Rue went pale as the bullet struck the apple of her head. You couldn't see, even if you wanted to, standing next to Alamo, who grimaced, followed by Rue's nervous, almost psychedelic laughter. In your mind, you thought it would be better to be shot in the head than to keep carrying fentanyl pellets in your stomach.
But God had faith in you, accepted you, and led you down the same street as Alamo. Unfortunately for you, you had no intention of working at the club, but Alamo definitely had other plans for you.
“I don't think you need a boob job, but maybe a lip injection would do you good.”
And judging by the gold rosary you were wearing, Alamo decided to christen you Mary.
Stupid. Just plain stupid.
“Don't worry, the girls are going to teach you how to pole dance. It'll be easy for a malnourished girl like you.”
★
So… Yeah, right now, you'd be a dancer at the club, with Rue working as your assistant, cleaning, making sure the girls were happy and comfortable—easy.
But not for you.
You'd gotten your lips injected, and you felt like Faye at that moment—all that was missing was some fucking Nazi falling for you.
Luckily, there weren't any Nazis in sight.
You started to connect more with the girls at the club. Angel was surprisingly sweet when you arrived, teaching you everything you needed to know. But it wasn't the same with Magick. She gave you anxiety every time you heard her speak, though despite the disagreements they might have, you had faith they'd get along better.
And Rue? Well, she'd been living the dream life, almost. Breasts everywhere, surgically enhanced butts, girls flocking to her whenever they needed help or drugs. On the other hand, you could swear you saw chemistry between her and Angel; the way they looked at each other was mesmerizing to outsiders, though sometimes Rue seemed to be mesmerized by looking at you.
Rue had even told you how one night, after finishing her shift, she locked herself in Angel's car, moaning and clutching his hair in such desperation. She'd even shown you a small bite mark Angel had left on her thigh, and you laughed when Rue, in her own words, claimed she'd never had a pussy as delicious as Angel's in her life.
“You're disgusting.”
You laughed. You were both in the bathroom. Rue was helping you put on your lingerie. It seemed like a dream for her to see you half-naked every day, a blessing for her, assuming God was on the side of lesbians, because Rue couldn't stop biting her lip when you came out of the bathroom behind her, looking you up and down, cursing under her breath, unable to believe she had such a sexy girl nearby.
And she wasn't the only one who thought that.
Bishop had also become close to you, not because you wanted to, but because Alamo had sent you both on some errands. You weren't sleeping well at night, nor during the day, and you were surprised at how Bishop could keep up with Alamo's orders, how he did everything perfectly, even if he made faces while driving or gripped the steering wheel too tightly. He maintained his composure perfectly.
You were quite the chatterbox, even though you knew Bishop was tired of listening to you. You'd keep recounting all the overwhelming experiences you'd had with Laurie, what it was like living with an addicted dad, how you met Rue—all those things you had to tell during a car ride that lasted, at most, an hour, overwhelming your companion's peaceful mind.
“I mean… I'm over 20. When I was 15, I imagined myself as a wife with kids and a nice house… Maybe I'm not too far from that, but I think it'll take me years to meet a man who wants to be with me.”
Bishop didn't even look at you at that moment; he was just focused on the road, letting out a sigh.
“I agree.”
You frowned slightly, turning your head to look at him, letting out a soft laugh, and putting your feet up on the seat, knowing how much Bishop hated it when you put your feet up on the seat, even if you'd cleaned your shoes—unlike Rue's worn-out Converse.
Your relationship with Bishop was… peculiar. Even at the club, he kept a close eye on you. Assuming you were new, he must have been making sure you were doing your job properly, or that you weren't too foolish to ruin some service Alamo forced you to provide for clients. But even after months of working there, those glances continued, so much so that you were the first to look away, feeling that tension every time you were together.
“You never hooked up with any of the girls at the club? It's strange knowing that Kidd and G sleep with more than one dancer.”
Bishop pretended not to care, but he definitely felt uncomfortable hearing you talk about his colleagues having sex with the club's girls. He knew it, but he hadn't given it much thought. Even if Alamo slept with the girls more than once—in the bar of his mansion, in the office, in practically every corner—hearing it from someone else felt odd.
“I don't have time for that.”
You glanced at him and suppressed a smile, reaching for the car radio, turning on the music, and turning up the volume. “Ain’t No Love In The Heart Of The City” was playing. You leaned your head back in the seat when you heard Bishop’s thumb tapping on the steering wheel. Even though his face was still serious, he loved listening to music while driving. It was as if you’d read his mind.
“I like this song.”
You turned to face him, smiling. He glanced at you and suppressed a smile, hoping his seriousness would stay put.
“Who sings it?”
“Bobby ‘Blue’ Bland.”
Bishop's response was immediate, as if he'd been waiting for you to ask, making you laugh. You'd never seen Bishop so excited to talk about something like this before, even though his face still looked serious and expressionless, maintaining that serenity and air of disinterest.
“I've never heard of him.”
“You will.”
His free hand moved to the gearshift, slightly accelerating. They weren't really in a hurry, but you had to be at the club in an hour, so for Bishop, being on time meant 10 minutes early.
“So... you don't like any of the girls at the club?”
“I never said that.”
“So you do like someone.”
“And you?”
“Rue's the lesbian, not me.”
Bishop stifled a laugh, glancing to the side. You laughed in response, biting your lower lip and shaking your head between soft chuckles.
“So, what do you like?”
You thought for a moment. You didn't really have a specific type, but you'd be lying if you didn't say that no one at the club attracted you physically, even Kidd, though he was the last person on your mind. Then you said…
“What if I say I like you?”
Bishop didn't answer right away. He considered the answer for a moment, then gently turned his head to look at you. His eyes darted up and down, his lips pressed together, and he looked straight ahead again, letting out a sigh.
“I'd be flattered.”
And the last thing you knew, Bishop pulled over to the side of the road. “A quickie,” he said. “Just the tip,” he said…
The car shook, both of you in the back seat, missionary position, your hands on the fogged-up window. It was June, with the heavy California heat; the car was almost unbearable. But with Bishop completely inside you, your walls tightening around him, deliberately around his dick, so swollen with anticipation, his hips moving so desperately against yours, panting and moaning against your neck.
“I’m close…”
Your nails tugged at his unbuttoned shirt, feeling his hands grip your waist tightly, his hand sliding down to your hip, squeezing your skin so hard it made you shudder. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling Bishop all the way in, rubbing his hips against yours, so close to orgasm that his eyes rolled back.
But before he finished, he pulled his dick out of you, almost clumsily climbing on top of you. The space in a Dodge Charger was limited, especially because of the model Bishop had. Even so, his hips pressed against your face, masturbating in your face. Bishop was mesmerized by your lips, fuller than when he first met you, your tongue licking his balls with moans, gripping his hips to keep him close, feeling his hand move to your needy, tearful cunt, caressing your clit, making your legs tremble so much you could barely think.
The first spurts of cum escaped from his dick, staining your face and the car window. He groaned softly, throwing your head back, moving his hand from his dick to your hair, forcing you to keep licking his balls, holding back his orgasm.
Your pussy responded to his fingers, cumming on them, lifting your hips and squeezing your thighs tightly to contain your orgasm, so loud that you moaned so loudly you swore the passing cars could hear you.
When he finished, Bishop settled into the seat next to you, panting, placing your legs on his lap, caressing them to calm the tremors and agitations of your body. You were panting and sighing as if you had run a marathon, gently opening your eyes, wiping the cum from your forehead and bringing it to your lips, looking at Bishop with flushed cheeks.
“We’ll be late.”
Even with those words, Bishop didn't bother to get dressed or adjust himself, nor did he stop stroking your legs.
“Yeah... I'll stay here, sit up front.”
You settled gently into the seat, sitting down and putting on your clothes. At that moment, Bishop realized how much he would miss seeing your titties. Although he saw them every night, he didn't know when the next time he would suck on them would be.
★
“So, you hooked up in his car.”
Rue said, sitting on the sink in the women's restroom, while you were in one of the stalls, flushing and leaving, standing next to her, washing your hands, and glancing at you with a smirk.
You had told her, not that it was specifically Bishop, but that you had an encounter with someone. She assumed it was a client who was going to pay you extra or a temporary boyfriend.
“Yeah, it was… It was pretty good.”
Rue nodded at your words, looking to the side, ignoring the fact that she was getting a little jealous, even though days before she herself had slept with Angel, telling you all about it in detail.
When she turned to look at you, she saw that your thong was a little messy, so she got up from the sink and moved her hands to your hips to straighten the straps. You didn't say anything, because that was Rue's job, to make sure the girls looked good.
“Did he eat your pussy?”
You splashed your hands to get rid of the excess water, glancing at Rue in the mirror's reflection, frowning slightly. You turned your head to look at her, noticing that her hands were still on your hips.
“Why do you want to know?”
You laughed, turning around and leaning against the sink, facing Rue, looking at her with a raised eyebrow and a small smile on your face.
“It was just a quickie.”
You said, turning back around to look at yourself in the mirror, examining your face, picking up the lipstick you'd left there. You had your own dressing room with the other girls, sure, but you always made time to be alone with Rue. This job had created a bit of distance between you, leaving you barely able to talk.
“And did you enjoy it?”
Rue's hands returned to your hips, resting her chin on your shoulder, her thumbs caressing your skin, making you shiver slightly, still watching her in the mirror's reflection.
“I think he enjoyed me.”
“I would have loved to be there.”
“Watching us? Like a voyeur?”
“No… I would have liked to have you.”
Your laughter faded slightly, lowering both hands and placing them against the sink, looking down, watching her thumbs gently squeeze your hip, making you sigh.
“But I've never been with a girl.”
“I can be the first.”
You sighed as Rue began kissing your shoulders, her fingers playing with the straps of your thong, gently pulling it down, waiting for you to stop her, but instead, you parted your legs so Rue could remove it completely. Rue smiled and pulled your thong all the way down, parting your left buttock with one hand, while her fingers moved around your wet slit, moaning against your ear, suddenly inserting two fingers into your cunt without any warning, making you moan, placing your hands on the mirror, leaning forward, closing your eyes as you moaned.
“You’re so wet…”
Rue crouched behind you, her mouth moving softly with kisses down your lower back, reaching your ass, her tongue tracing the tight ring, still sliding her fingers in and out of you, making you tremble. You pressed your cheek against the mirror, almost sitting on the sink, covering your mouth with one hand, hoping no one would come in now.
“R-Rue… Hurry.”
You didn’t know why you didn’t stop her; you just felt her tongue slide down your ass, to your pussy, licking the entrance. Both hands were on your ass, squeezing and playing with it, gently pulling away, standing up, one hand behind you, sliding her fingers back in, while the other gripped your hair, pulling you closer. She pressed her chest against your back, thrusting her fingers in and out of your pussy quickly. It was impossible to hide your sharp moans anymore, escaping with every movement of her fingers as they touched that specific spot inside you.
“I-I’m gonna cum…”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Yeah…”
Rue left her fingers deep inside you, moving them and being squeezed by your walls, commanding them to stay there, deep inside, until your womb felt it needed that release. You came on Rue’s fingers the same way you had with Bishop’s, panting, your hands still on the mirror, watching yourself as you moaned and seeing Rue’s face almost sweaty and flushed, moving her fingers gently to delay your orgasm as long as possible.
★
You both left the bathroom, Rue behind you. You went back to your dressing room as you watched Rue walk away toward the bar where Bishop was, catching his attention, following her with his eyes, which made Rue stop beside him, leaning on the table next to him.
“Alamo was looking for you.”
Rue grimaced, swallowing hard and running a hand over her lips, glancing to the side as she watched you approach one of your regulars, chatting with him with that natural flirtatiousness of yours, smiling, the lip gloss giving your lips that juicy touch, and that smile of yours so sweet and lustful at the same time.
“I’ve been… busy.”
Bishop met your gaze, then looked at Rue, who was smiling at you, and that’s when Bishop understood. He wasn’t the only one. But perhaps, he had been the first.
“Where’s Alamo?”
“Your breath reeks of pussy. Get yourself a drink.”
Bishop placed two twenty-dollar bills on the table, walking away, leaving Rue alone, frowning, raising her hand to her mouth, exhaling her breath and smelling it, letting out a soft sigh, turning to order a drink from the bartender, handing him the bills Bishop had given her.
She should be more discreet next time.
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a/n: esto debe tener unos errores ortográficos catastróficos pero ya fue. me gustó escribir esto
