#Dubai alcohol

[dubaivisasolutions]

All About Alcohol License in Dubai

Dubai welcomes people from different backgrounds, cultures and religions. The city has excellent nightlife, and nowadays, the rules for possessing and transporting of alcohol have changed. However, you still need a liquor license in Dubai for consumption and alcohol purchases.

Today's article will discuss everything you need about alcohol licenses in Dubai.

What is an alcohol license?

It is a legal document that allows you to store and serve alcohol at your business legally. This process helps the Dubai government regulate the consumption and sale of alcohol.

Even though Dubai is a part of a Muslim country, the laws for liquor consumption and possession are quite liberal, and it is not a dry state. Since the 7th of November 2020 alcohol consumption is no longer treated as a criminal offence.

Types of Alcohol Licenses in Dubai

Now as you have learnt about the rules and regulations, let us discuss the types of alcohol licenses available in Dubai. All these laws are subject to change under the Liquor Control Law Dubai; however, there are four different types of alcohol license:

You need Type A license to import alcohol.

Type B license is required to sell alcohol from shops to third parties.

You have to get a Type C license to sell alcohol in a restaurant or a hotel.

Type D is necessary for purchasing alcoholic beverages.

What are the Type C Alcohol license Regulations?

If you own a restaurant and want to serve alcohol at the place, you will require a Type C License. With this license, you can:

Directly transport alcohol to licensed places.

Serve alcohol at your business, like a club or restaurant.

Purchase alcohol from Type B licensed shops.

Also, there are certain rules that you have to adhere to.

You are only allowed to serve alcohol in authorized places.

Apart from wine, alcohol has to be served in glasses.

You can only serve alcohol on government permitted times.

Have to document all alcohol stocks strictly.

Things to remember for obtaining a Liquor license in Dubai

Here is a list of Alcohol license requirements in Dubai:

As a tourist, you must have a passport with a Dubai entry stamp.

You have to be at least 21 to get a Dubai alcohol license.

If you are a UAE resident, you must have a valid Emirates ID.

To get a liquor permit in Dubai, you have to be a non-Muslim.

The Dubai alcohol license will remain valid for 1 year from the date of purchase. You can also renew your license by contacting the authorities. You can still buy alcohol from stores when your license is in the renewal period.

To purchase a liquor license in Dubai, you have to pay AED 270 per year, and in return, you will be getting coupons which you can use to buy alcohol in Dubai.

Process to Get Dubai Alcohol License.

You need to have an Emirates ID.

Visit any African + Eastern Store in Dubai or their official websites to apply for the license.

You can also get the license from the Dubai International Airport.

If you are applying online, you only need to submit a scanned copy of your Emirates ID. 

Once your alcohol license is approved, you can collect it from the store, and the entire process can take around 2-4 weeks.

Dubai Alcohol License for Tourists

If you are a tourist, you can get your Dubai alcohol license using your original passport and Dubai tourist visa, which contains a Dubai entry stamp. You also have to submit a signed application which states that you are a tourist and understand all the rules of purchase, consumption and transportation in UAE. Now you have a temporary Dubai alcohol permit valid for 30 days.

[centaurusinternationalblog]

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So, what are you waiting for?

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[thebottlestore]

While Dubai is relatively more lenient compared to some other places in the region, it's important to remember that the city is still part of a conservative Islamic country. Therefore, it's essential to consume alcohol responsibly and be mindful of local customs and sensibilities.you can buy alcohol in Dubai without a license, but you must adhere to the specific regulations in place.

[paulpingminho]

[recorporate]

How To Get Alcohol License Dubai : Full Guide (2022)

Are you planning to open a company in Dubai and wondering about the process of obtaining an alcohol license? In this comprehensive guide, we will walk you through everything you need to know about alcohol licenses in Dubai. From understanding the different types of licenses to the eligibility criteria, application process, and legal obligations, we've got you covered. So, let's dive in!

Introduction

Dubai is a vibrant city known for its business opportunities and luxurious lifestyle. If you plan to operate a business that involves the sale, distribution, or consumption of alcohol, obtaining an alcohol license is a crucial step. An alcohol license is a legal requirement to engage in such activities within the boundaries of Dubai.

Understanding Alcohol License in Dubai

Before delving into the specifics, let's understand what an alcohol license entails. An alcohol license is an official document issued by the Dubai authorities that permits individuals and businesses to legally sell, import, export, and store alcoholic beverages. It ensures compliance with the strict regulations and guidelines set by the Dubai government regarding the sale and consumption of alcohol.

Types of Alcohol Licenses

In Dubai, there are primarily two types of alcohol licenses: one for businesses and another for individuals. The type of license you require depends on the nature of your activities and whether you are an individual or a company.

Alcohol License for Businesses

If you are planning to open a business, such as a restaurant, bar, hotel, or nightclub, that serves alcoholic beverages, you need to apply for a business alcohol license. This license allows you to legally sell and serve alcohol on your premises.

Alcohol License for Individuals

Individuals who wish to consume alcohol within the confines of their homes or at private gatherings can apply for an individual alcohol license. This license permits individuals to purchase alcohol from authorized stores and consume it in their private residences.

Eligibility Criteria for Obtaining an Alcohol License

To obtain an alcohol license in Dubai, certain eligibility criteria must be met. The criteria may vary slightly depending on the type of license you are applying for. Here are the general requirements:

Business Alcohol License Eligibility

To be eligible for a business alcohol license, you must:

Have a valid trade license issued by the Department of Economic Development (DED).

Ensure your establishment adheres to the specified requirements for the sale and consumption of alcohol.

Obtain necessary approvals from relevant authorities, such as the Dubai Municipality and Dubai Police.

Individual Alcohol License Eligibility

To be eligible for an individual alcohol license, you must:

Be a non-Muslim resident of Dubai.

Be over the legal drinking age of 21.

Provide the necessary identification and residency documents.

Comply with the guidelines and regulations set by the Dubai authorities.

Steps to Obtain an Alcohol License in Dubai

The process of obtaining an alcohol license in Dubai involves several steps. It is important to follow these steps diligently to ensure a smooth application process. Here's a step-by-step guide:

Research and Understand the Requirements: Before starting the application process, it is crucial to research and understand the specific requirements for the type of alcohol license you need. Familiarize yourself with the regulations, restrictions, and legal obligations imposed by the Dubai government.

Prepare the Necessary Documents: Gather all the required documents for your alcohol license application. These documents may include:

Valid trade license (for business alcohol license)

Passport copies and visa page

Emirates ID copies

No-objection letter from the sponsor or employer (for individual alcohol license)

Tenancy agreement or Ejari certificate

Floor plan of the premises

Layout and design approvals (for business alcohol license)

Submit the Application: Visit the Dubai Economic Department (DED) or the relevant authority responsible for alcohol license applications. Submit the completed application form along with the required documents. Pay the necessary fees and obtain a payment receipt.

Inspection and Approval Process: Once the application is submitted, the authorities will conduct an inspection of the premises (for business licenses) to ensure compliance with the regulations. The application will then undergo a review process, and if all requirements are met, the license will be approved.

Collection of the Alcohol License: Once approved, you will receive a notification to collect your alcohol license from the designated authority. Visit the specified location, present the required documents, and collect your alcohol license.

Renewal Process: Alcohol licenses in Dubai are typically valid for one year. Ensure to renew your license before the expiration date to avoid any penalties or disruptions to your business operations.

Documents Required for an Alcohol License Application

When applying for an alcohol license in Dubai, it is essential to provide the necessary documents to support your application. The required documents may vary depending on the type of license and individual circumstances. Here are some common documents you may need to submit:

Completed application form

Passport copies and visa page

Emirates ID copies

No-objection letter (for individuals)

Valid trade license (for businesses)

Tenancy agreement or Ejari certificate

Floor plan of the premises

Layout and design approvals (for businesses)

Ensure that all documents are complete, up-to-date, and meet the specific requirements set by the authorities.

Also Reda : - How to Setup a Crypto Business in Dubai (2023 Useful Tips)

Fees and Renewal Process

Obtaining and renewing an alcohol license in Dubai involves certain fees. The fees may vary depending on the type of license and other factors. It is advisable to check the latest fee structure from the respective authority or department.

To renew your alcohol license, ensure to submit the renewal application before the expiration date. Late renewals may incur additional fees or result in the suspension of your license.

Restrictions and Regulations

It is important to be aware of the restrictions and regulations imposed on alcohol licenses in Dubai. These regulations are in place to ensure responsible consumption and compliance with cultural norms. Some key restrictions and regulations include:

Alcohol can only be consumed within designated areas or licensed premises.

Alcohol sales are prohibited during religious holidays and certain hours of the day.

It is illegal to sell or serve alcohol to individuals under the legal drinking age (21 years old).

Public intoxication and drunk driving are strictly prohibited and can result in severe penalties.

Understanding and adhering to these restrictions and regulations is crucial to maintain the validity of your alcohol license and operate within the legal boundaries

Also Read : - How to Get a Real Estate License in Dubai?

Alcohol License for Businesses

If you are planning to open a company in Dubai and require an alcohol license for your business, there are specific considerations to keep in mind. The requirements may vary based on the nature of your business, such as a restaurant, bar, hotel, or nightclub. It is essential to comply with the following guidelines:

Ensure your business has a valid trade license issued by the Department of Economic Development (DED) in Dubai.

Adhere to the specified requirements for the sale, storage, and consumption of alcohol, including obtaining necessary approvals from relevant authorities like the Dubai Municipality and Dubai Police.

Maintain compliance with hygiene and safety standards, as stipulated by the authorities.

Having a business alcohol license not only allows you to legally sell and serve alcohol but also demonstrates your commitment to operating within the legal framework, fostering trust among customers and partners.

Alcohol License for Individuals

If you are a non-Muslim resident of Dubai and wish to consume alcohol within the confines of your home or at private gatherings, obtaining an individual alcohol license is necessary. Here are the key requirements:

Be at least 21 years old, the legal drinking age in Dubai.

Provide a copy of your passport, visa page, and Emirates ID.

Obtain a no-objection letter from your sponsor or employer, indicating their approval for your alcohol license application.

Comply with the guidelines and regulations set by the Dubai authorities, including responsible alcohol consumption.

Having an individual alcohol license allows you to purchase alcohol from authorized stores and enjoy it responsibly within your private residence or designated venues.

Compliance and Legal Obligations

Once you obtain an alcohol license in Dubai, it is crucial to understand and fulfill your compliance and legal obligations. These obligations ensure the responsible sale, distribution, and consumption of alcohol within the city. Some key compliance and legal obligations include:

Adhering to the specified timings for alcohol sales and service, as per the regulations.

Displaying the alcohol license prominently in your establishment (for businesses).

Maintaining proper record-keeping of alcohol inventory, sales, and consumption.

Conducting staff training on responsible alcohol service and handling.

Cooperating with authorities during inspections and audits to ensure compliance.

By fulfilling your compliance and legal obligations, you contribute to a safe and regulated environment for alcohol-related activities in Dubai.

Penalties for Non-Compliance

Non-compliance with the regulations and guidelines for alcohol licenses in Dubai can result in penalties and legal consequences. The Dubai government takes the enforcement of alcohol-related laws seriously to maintain order and protect public safety. Penalties for non-compliance may include:

Fines and monetary penalties

Suspension or revocation of the alcohol license

Temporary closure of the establishment (for businesses)

Legal proceedings and potential criminal charges

To avoid these penalties, it is crucial to stay informed about the regulations, follow best practices, and ensure ongoing compliance with the stipulated guidelines.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

Here are some frequently asked questions about alcohol licenses in Dubai:

Q: Can tourists or visitors apply for an alcohol license in Dubai?

A: No, alcohol licenses are only issued to residents of Dubai who meet the eligibility criteria.

Q: Is it possible to transfer an alcohol license from one establishment to another?

A: Yes, a transfer of alcohol license can be requested if you plan to relocate or change the premises of your business. It involves an application process and meeting certain requirements.

Q: Can alcohol be consumed in public places in Dubai?

A: No, public consumption of alcohol is strictly prohibited in Dubai. Alcohol can only be consumed in designated areas or licensed premises.

Q: How long does it take to obtain an alcohol license in Dubai?

A: The processing time for an alcohol license can vary depending on several factors, including the completeness of the application, the type of license, and the efficiency of the reviewing process. It is advisable to start the application well in advance to allow for any potential delays.

Conclusion

Obtaining an alcohol license in Dubai is an essential requirement for individuals and businesses planning to engage in the sale, distribution, or consumption of alcohol. By understanding the types of licenses, eligibility criteria, application process, and compliance obligations, you can navigate the process smoothly and ensure legal compliance.

Remember to research and follow the specific requirements and regulations associated with alcohol licenses in Dubai. Complying with the guidelines not only allows you to operate within the legal boundaries but also demonstrates your commitment to responsible alcohol service.

If you plan to open a company in Dubai and require assistance with the process of obtaining an alcohol license or any other legal and corporate matters, consider seeking professional guidance. Visit Recorporate.net for expert assistance and support in setting up your business in Dubai.

Reference URL :- How To Get Alcohol License Dubai : Full Guide (2022)

[hookahplaceae]

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[the-crooked-library]

Alright so it seems that I'm not quite done beating the horse that is the Bacon triptych - because the potential layers in its presence have me absolutely enthralled. As a visual element, it illustrates the "currently unfolding" part of the drama, but also appears to allude to a story that's yet to come; and, granted, that may be the brainrot speaking, but my art history fixation is insisting that there's gold in them hills, so bear with me here.

As tenuous as it may seem at first glance, I firmly believe that the writing itself supports my fascination with this piece. It demands to be noticed. It is a vivid splash of red in a box of brutalist grey; and, furthermore, unlike the other paintings in the Dubai penthouse, it's written into the dialogue. The camera lingers there - hence, the series wants us to pay attention; and, while its subject-level significance is not to be discarded, I cannot help but see another, similarly emotional allusion within the same frames.

Instead of drawing from the painting, this story layer connects more to the artist himself. One of the most notable periods of Francis Bacon's personal life was his relationship with George Dyer, which lasted from the 1960s to the early 1970s. Unlike his previous paramours - who were largely older (and, in the case of the last, abusive) men, Dyer was a young addict. Described as someone who could "throw a decisive punch," he was nevertheless vulnerable and trusting; as such, Bacon took on a dominant role, and Dyer became his muse. Among Bacon's portraits, he was ever-present; and though the relationship was tumultuous, often overwhelmed by their shared addictions, those paintings are uncharacteristically tender.

The story ended with tragedy - it's an account of drugs, alcoholism, neediness, dependence, classism, friction, and Dyer's eventual suicide; and within the context of IWTV, this framework is undeniably thematically relevant.

From the beginning - a decade-long involvement, addiction, an uncharacteristic tenderness - beat for beat, the book version of Devil's Minion is the same story, happening only a few years off. The presence of the Bacon painting within the Dubai penthouse is, in my opinion, an indicator to it having happened in the show as well. Just like Dyer, the TV version Daniel met Armand in a pub (or bar); just like Dyer, he is compact, athletic, pale, working-class - and, when under the influence, boisterous and active.

There is, naturally, one key difference; unlike Dyer, Daniel survives.

In the Doylist sense, the painting, therefore, acts as a visual cue - almost as evidence, of sorts. The memory of their entanglement may be effaced, but the blood-red stain of it is impossible to ignore, as is this placement:

I don't believe it is accidental that the painting is sold almost as soon as Daniel arrives in Dubai. It is an indication that the Devil and his Minion are no longer locked within a determined ending; their story continues, and memories are replaced with the real, living thing.

Edit: it bears pointing out that, while I had this post hanging in my drafts, convinced that I was reading far too much into something that already had another reason to exist, it's been announced that the relationship between Daniel and Armand is, in fact, going to be explored within the series. My every wish has been granted, and I can hardly wait.

[elsweetheart]

crystal champagne glasses — bodyguard!abby au

synopsis: when reader, the millionaires daughter can’t help but misbehave — Abby the no nonsense bodyguard is hired to live in the mansion.

♪ every man gets his wish — lana del rey (unreleased) ♪

cw: fem reader, mentions of money / money problems, overprotective parents, mentions of loss of a parent (not reader), daddy issues lol, sprinkle of mommy issues too, alcohol and drinking, tiny mention of being sick, reader working out mentions, brat tamer abby lol, size kink, reader cries and gets humiliated and angry a lot lol, degradation, masturbation, strap on sex, think that’s it?

an: i had so much fun writing this! this is the quickest i’ve ever written a fic, i think because i’ve been excited to write this one and planning it for ages! now, if you don’t like my writing please click off now. no one is forcing you to read my fics. to all the people who have been excited for this fic, ily and i hope you enjoy it! as always, minors + ageless blogs do not interact with this or any posts / fics of mine. you will be blocked! ♡

You weren’t a princess. You were not a princess. You wished you were, shit — maybe your parents would actually care about you. Unfortunately though, there was no royalty behind your name. Just two millionaire parents who would apparently rather be anywhere else but at home with you.

You had your own hobbies, friends, a life — back at home. But of course, if you had so much as wanted to leave the mansion to partake in such activities, such as socialising (God forbid!) you’d need an escort, a driver, secret security officers stalking you, creeping out all of your friends and more. After a while it just became… not worth it. So you stopped showing up, stopped hanging out with people — and understandably, your invite to meeting up with friends started to get supposedly lost in the post. Things get lonely fast.

Bitterness was hardly the word for it. You understood your circumstances and if you were anything it wasn’t ungrateful. Your father only wanted you to be safe, hence the dozens of hired body guards in and out (But you’ll get back to that in a moment, of course.) Your friends just assumed you didn’t wanna hang out anymore, hence the missed invites. You had only started misbehaving out of bitterne— no, not bitter. Pissed off. Rightfully.

You always felt dread when you saw the answer machine light up red with a new message from the only person who had the number — your father. Where on Earth could he be calling from this time? Perhaps lounging by the pool in Greece or dining at a rooftop garden in Dubai — experiencing the world and bravely taking a moment out of his incredibly busy day to drop you a patronising and vaguely threatening voicemail. Atleast he spoke to you, unlike your mother who’d much rather pretend you didn’t exist because, and you quote, the stress of your misbehaviour ‘gave her wrinkles.’ Your manicured finger hovered over the button before pressing down, huffing out your nose as you stared out at the morning fog over the grassy hills of your land.

‘Good morning darling, dad calling again. You keep missing my calls, which I assume is on purpose so I’m leaving you a message anyways. I’m currently in Amsterdam with your mother and I just caught wind of Malakai the bodyguard quitting ‘suddenly and abruptly’ according to one of the maids. I’ve told you once and I will tell you again, if you don’t stop harassing the guards and forcing them to quit you will be in serious trouble. I mean cut off completely, sent off to work in the city with no more than a shitty little apartment and no money. So, I have decided to give you one last chance. I’ve purchased a bodyguard to live in with you starting Sunday morning so you’re going to have to fend for yourself until then. I searched high and low for this one, apparently they specialise in poorly behaved brats like yourself — so I’m hoping if anything that will whip you into shape. You’ve been through five bodyguards this year and it’s February. I’m serious about my threats. Step a foot out of line and you’re done, your mother and I are deadly serious. I will be calling the new hire at the end of next week to check in on your behaviour. Do not let us down darling, you will regret it. Okay, that’s all. See you when I see you.’

You smile.

Oh, how sometimes things just worked out. A life of your own, with normality and struggle and freedom — no watchful eye breathing down your neck and no lack of purpose weighing down on you. Your father had presented you with the easiest task, piss off the new hire so that you’d be set free. A task you’d grown to perfect, having done so time and time again.

The crackle of wheels on the gravel path leading up to the mansion awakens you on the Sunday morning. You want to grumble, having gotten literally no sleep. You see, you were terribly afraid of the dark — and you couldn’t sleep without your guard having light the fire in the fireplace of your bedroom (The one use you found for the hired help.) You had no idea how to light it and didn’t trust yourself not to burn the house down — so you went without. Hence the awful nights sleep. Where were you? Yes, curious. Rudely awakened and curious.

Your short nightie does nothing to combat the cool morning chill as you get up from the bed, letting your bed covers slide off your body as you traipse over to your window. A black Range Rover, they’re all the same. All the same angry men that drive the same angry car, with the same angry build and the same angry face. You scoff at the memory of your fathers threat on the voice message, stating that this guard was to be anything you weren’t used to before. You knew it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

Except, you were caught off guard when the door opens. You watch a woman climb out the car, despite the vehicles spacious design she still seemed to unfold like she was inflatable as she climbed out — almost seeming too big for even a car like that. She was built, strong arms and chest, tree trunk thighs and veiny hands. You narrow your eyes at the black sunglasses perched on the bridge of her jagged nose, taking them off as she looks around with a serious expression. She was attractive, you’d admit — but in a way that made you cross. That stupid skin tight black t-shirt and black cargos and thick weighty belt around her waist told you everything you needed to know about her. The militant type, she was going to try and intimidate you with her seriousness. You smirk, seeing this as a challenge. She has no idea what she’s up against.

You rush down the spiral stairs at the sound of her lugging her bags inside. She flicks her braid over her shoulder to glance at you standing there analytically as she does so, biceps bulging as she lifts the heavy black cases into the centre of your foyer stood beneath the chandelier. She looked much too harsh for somewhere delicate like this.

“I take it you aren’t going to introduce yourself.” She speaks after a moment of sorting her bags, closing the front door to signify she was done bringing her things inside. You cling to the tall bannister, toeing the cold pristine marble floor, eyeing her and her things as if each bag had a bomb inside. She stands up to her full height, atleast breaching the 6ft margin and you squint, watching her stretch her arms to relieve herself from the weight of the bags. “Off to a great start already.” She retorts as you ignore her, her long legs stepping over a black duffle bag on the floor toward you.

“Why are your bags so heavy?” You ask quietly, less curious and more judgemental. Who did she think she was moving in here with all that stuff? She takes a long inhale, accenting the muscle in her chest as she places her hands on her hips. Her reply is calm and unbothered.

“I brought my weights with me, and lots of other things I need to stay in my condition. Do you have a name?” Her voice is velvety and more feminine than you expected. Your stomach gets hot and prickly at the sound.

“You know my name. I can bet anything my father told you everything about me infact.” You jut your chin up stubbornly. It’s her turn to analyse now, tilting her head a little to the side as she leans on her hip, eyeing you once over and then again.

“Yeah. Your dad was kind enough to tell me all about you and how you treated your past bodyguards. But when you first meet someone, you introduce yourself. So introduce yourself.” There is a slight bite to your tone and your eyes flutter a bit. You’re used to men being agitated with you, infact you thrive off it— but you’ve never had a woman guard before. Something about the harsh tone hurt you just that little more. Shit, maybe you just had mommy issues.

You mutter your name, eyes laser focused on her clinging to the last shred of dignity you had — but when she gives you a curt nod and an equally quiet ‘There you go’ it perishes in the wind like a dying leaf crumbling away for winter. She turns, looking around at her bags before reaching over for the smallest one. “I’m Abby. As you probably guessed, I’m your new bodyguard.” She walks over to you and holds out the bag. You look at her and then at the bag, and then back at her.

“What am I supposed to do with this, Abby?” You cross your arms with a raised brow.

“You’re gonna carry it to my new room for me. I’m a guest in your home.” She raises her eyebrows, waving the bag infront of you signally for you to take it.

You stare at her in disbelief, before laughing bitterly. “You’re right. You’re a guest in my home. So I’m not carrying shit.” You spin on your heel to stomp up the stairs, but she cuts you off by speaking calmly yet firmly.

“Then you can sleep in the dark.”

You turn back around slowly, wearing a frown that creases your brow. How did she know about that?

“I spoke to some previous guards of yours. Said you were terrified of the dark and needed a fire lit in your room every night. Y’wanna sleep in dark? Or you wanna help me carry my bags?”

You stare her down for a moment, weighing out your options. She’d already dominated the conversation by getting your name out of you so easily, and now she was winning again. However, you were exhausted just from one night of restlessly pacing with your light on — too afraid to turn it off and go to sleep. You needed your sleep. That being said, you scowl and snatch the bag from her hand, the leather of it slapping against your leg as you carry it up the spiral stairs.

“Atta girl.”

You clench your jaw.

The week begins, and as do your antics. Abby wasn’t easily wound up, but that only made you want to go ten times harder. She was a bodyguard, not a babysitter — but she was starting to feel like her duties were beginning to cross wires. She knew your game, knew you were aiming for something — she could see the determination in your eyes everytime you’d sass her back. So, she’d play you back. Not give into what you want.

Her first real duty came on a Wednesday when she was lounging in the living room watching some God awful 2000s police chase show, and in came you — tottering on little heels and a skirt so short and tight she could tell the colour of your thong beneath. Not that she was looking, of course.

She leant her arm on the back of the couch, eyes flitting over you as you rummage for the keys that you were sure had been left by the maid on the coffee table. “Going somewhere?” It comes out nearly as a scoff, smirk etched onto her face and it makes you roll your eyes.

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Out with my friends. The ones that still talk to me.” You’re distracted, pulling your small handbag back up onto your shoulder when it slides off, free hand feeling around in a decorative bowl for the key set. Abby stares at you for a moment, which — okay, is a little indulgent. She wasn’t being a creep, she could just appreciate that you looked good. Before you could turn to throw a glare her way she was muttering an ‘alright’ and heaving her heavy, toned body up to stand and stretch.

You turn and look at her questioningly and she stops to return your gaze. “What? You think I’m just living here with you for fun? C’mon, if you wanna go let’s go.” She nods towards the door, but stops after a few steps when she hears you snicker.

“No thanks. I’m a big girl.”

She crosses her arms and the smirk that makes you wanna throw darts at her stupid face returns. “That right? You think daddy just hired me to hang out around the house, then?”

You stare at her, pursing your lips before exhaling through your nose wordlessly — walking towards the door in defeat. You just wanted to go out, it had been so long. You’re sure you could just ignore Abby.

She follows behind you, now swinging her car keys round her finger — so smug. “How were you planning on getting to the club? You live in the middle of nowhere.”

“Uber.”

It’s her turn to snicker, opening the front door for you and standing aside as you walk through. “Yeah. Okay. C’mon.”

Screw her. Because now, for some reason she was in your head.

Maybe you just had a few… weaknesses. You always liked your girls on the masc side, on the buff side — but that was a given. Who isn’t attracted to that, right? However, watching hot girls drive was something else, and Abby was being that something else. You know— hand on the back of your seat when she reverses, bicep bulging when she grips the wheel of her sleek car, the lights of the night time traffic illuminating the way her top lip curled upwards a little and bottom lip pouted. You felt a little relief, knowing it was one hundred percent the wine talking. The wine you’d probably drank a little too much of whilst you were getting ready, playing your music and singing along loudly just hoping it was annoying Abby (It wasn’t, she didn’t even hear.)

Ignoring her would start after the car journey you decided.

And you did, for the most part. Abby gave you your space, sitting a few seats away from your group whilst you had your fun — headache inducing squeals and brain numbing chatter over loud music and strong cocktails not quite interesting the blonde. She was driving, and working — so she couldn’t drink, just sat there all night bored out of her mind. She probably should have been monitoring how many drinks you’d had over the night, because soon you were stumbling off your seat to go and dance— and Abby’s hands were itching to pull your skirt down just a little, the hem climbing up to the swell where your thighs meet your ass. She sits back, just watching. She was here to protect you, not be your personal wardrobe malfunction manager — so that’s what she’d do. Sit back and protect.

God, did you always dance like this when you went out?

She felt her fist twitch on the table at the sight of your hips swirling, but she knew that was just a natural gay reaction. She should probably order you a glass of water, so you could sober up and tone down the sluttyness but she figured she’d let you have your fun for now— you may have been too far gone. Abby wished she was holding a beer or something whilst she stared across at the way you were grinding your ass into your friends crotch, the two of you giggling like idiots all hazy eyed from the liquor.

After a while you amble over to her, everything bouncing and spilling out but you clearly don’t give a fuck. Your guard is caught off guard when you come close, alcohol having decimated any concept of personal space as you lean over to speak to her where she’s sat, bent over with your hands splayed on her black jean clad thighs.

She tries to be subtle in the way she eyes you, her tongue peeping between her lips and eyes widening momentarily at the perfect shot of down your top. “I can’t hear you.” She yells over the music. You come closer and nearly topple onto her completely, Abby’s hands by nature resting on the back of your thighs as you now grip her shoulders. Briefly, she wonders if at a glance anyone thinks the two of you are a couple. She shakes it off ‘cos… you’re still a brat. Hot or not.

“I said, can I go to the bathroom or are you gonna follow me?” You pull back to make sure she’s seeing you attempt to pointedly raise an eyebrow at her, something you would have perfected usually if you were sober.

“Take a friend.” She nods to your most sober looking buddy and you shrug happily, pushing off her and grabbing your toilet partner and rushing off. She was kind of glad you were gonna be out of her sight for a moment, needing to cool off.

She wasn’t sure what happened after that. Abby was getting bored and tired, dropping the ball a little bit — and you must have been sneaking drinks from your friends when she wasn’t looking — because suddenly you were way too drunk, barely able to stand. Enough was enough when she watched you stumble over to the bar, heading to assumably get yourself another drink. Abby followed you, gently taking your arm and turning you around.

“Hey, no more. You’re blacked out.”

Your face screws up into this adorable little pout for a moment before the rage kicks in, brow creasing and fists clenching by your side.

“C’n dooo what I waant. Dompt tell meee what to do.” You thud her in the centre of her chest with your finger, slurring enough to the point where Abby was confident the bartender wouldn’t have served you anyway.

“No. Finish up, you need to go home.” She was stern, and as expected — this garnered the worst possible response, baring your teeth like a dog and digging your heels into the ground like you were about to pounce on her. You exploded into noise.

“Nnno! Fuck you you stupid securererty guard I can’t wait to get rid of youn’d be independent this is such buuullshi—” Your rampage was cut short by Abby sighing, squatting, and throwing you over her shoulder. Her free hand came up without thought, tugging your skirt down to not expose you to the world. You thrashed and yelled for a good ten seconds before giving in completely — by standers and your friends laughing as Abby marched you to the exit. You were asleep by the time she reached the car, and briefly woke up when she’d carried you to bed to demand her to light the fire place. The fear of the dark must have ran incredibly deep, interesting — she noted.

Abby thought that maybe you’d appreciate her cutting your drinks off and halting any further plans to embarrass yourself that night— but she came to learn that if she thought you were bad usually, you with a hangover was ten times worse. If waking up to the sounds of your loud upchuck wasn’t bad enough, you were a whiny, angry bitch relentlessly all day.

“I’m not your servant you know. Stop asking me to do things for you.” Abby walked in with a glass of water and Tylenol upon request, being met with a loud groan instead of a ‘thank you’.

“Do you have to fucking yell everything?” You complain, ironically — louder than her.

She was tired by the end of the day, beginning to wonder if the pay was enough to tolerate your brattiness. Abby had gained a reputation for dealing with difficult clients, perhaps diva-esque or ill-mannered, but often it wasn’t anything a stern talking to couldn’t fix, often intimidated by her height and build enough to shut them up after a few quips. You were effortlessly becoming one of, if not the most difficult and tiresome clients to crack, but she was determined. If Abby was anything, she wasn’t a quitter — which is why when your father called to check in on you, she told him you’d been good as gold, which earned her a glare from you when you’d overheard the whole thing on the way to the bathroom.

You were back to your regular level of shitty behaviour the next day, less whiny and more sarcastic and bitchy which she could tolerate. However, after a month had gone by Abby was finding the irritation harder and harder to control— especially since you had developed an ever so charming habit of putting on your headphones every single time Abby tried to tell you to do something or talk to you in general.

“Like I told you, I’m a bodyguard — not a babysitter. Stop leaving your—” She bounded into the room, stopping when she saw you look her in the eye and pull your headphones over your head, pressing play on your screen to start your music. Abby stares for a few seconds, taking a breath, telling herself to walk away. Be a bodyguard and nothing else. She ignores this, wound up— and moves to stand in front of you, clicking her fingers. Cheekily, you point to your headphones — mouthing a faux-apologetic ‘sorry!’. The blonde scoffs, wondering why she’s entertaining this in the first place and reaches up to yank the headphones off your head, but freezes at your sudden wide eyed yelp.

“Don’t touch me I’ll tell my dad and you’ll get fired!” It’s rambled out, fast and premeditated — like you’d thought of it already and had been waiting to put it to use. Abby glances down at your alight screen, noting the music as paused and wonders if you were ever playing music or was just doing this to bother her. She lowers her hand, because — well, she’s not an asshole — instead turning her palm upwards in gesture to hand them over.

“Headphones. Give them to me.”

“No.”

“Give them to me or I’m not lighting the fire in your room tonight.” She stares you down and you sulk, shoulders dropping and brows furrowing in devastation. Abby would have felt bad if you weren’t such a menace.

You stroppily yank the headphones off your head and hand them over, muttering profanities furiously under your breath as you turn away from her, sprawled on the couch. Your guard nods, disappearing to put them away before leaving you be — heading to the kitchen to make her afternoon smoothie. The sound of her chopping fruit sparked rage in you all over again at how at home she had made herself, and after a minute you were storming in again— bare feet slapping the cold tiles.

“Back for more?” Abby is calm now, content as she focuses on slicing into a banana.

“You can’t threaten me with my fears you know, that’s emotional and psychological abuse. You’re taking advantage of my fears to be in control like — like a coward. Trust me I studied psychology out of a book, I know my stuff.” You stand beside her ranting as she raises her eyebrows with a calm smile, nodding as she listens and finishes up chopping her fruit, beginning to load them into the— your blender.

“Oh? Smart girl then huh?” She teases and you huff, jutting your chin in the air confidently with an ‘mhm’ before hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen island counter, deciding to stick around for a while to pester her.

“Very. You could probably learn a thing or two from me.”

Abby twists her body half around in amusement, a mocking expression of being impressed adorning her attractive face. She closes the lid to the blender, keeping one hand on it as she speaks.

“‘That so? Go ahead, tell me what possibly I could learn from you, smart girl.”

Ignoring how ‘smart girl’ made you feel in your underwear, you only a manage a “Well first of all—” before she’s turned the blender on, the loud whirring masking any sound coming from you despite your attempts to yell over it for a few seconds. She nods teasingly, as if she was listening to what you were saying and you huff, giving up. You were usually a master in being annoying, but Abby was giving you a run for your money.

You hop back off the counter, muttering a ‘Big blonde stupid asshole.’ as you storm out the room and Abby lets go of the blend button, snickering to herself and yelling out a non committal ‘I heard that!’ after you.

The following day she had taken you to buy groceries after you’d complained that you’d wanted to do it yourself — Abby, following you around as you loaded up your cart, every so often remembering your duty to annoy her and hitting her with something along the lines of ‘I want my headphones back.’ which would be met with a disinterested ‘Tough luck.’ on her end. You couldn’t believe that she’d been living in your home for one month and you still hadn’t gotten under her skin. Perhaps that’s why the next day you’d let your guard down.

It was the first sunny day of March, the grassy hills in which the mansion sat on still harbouring that frosty bite to the air from winter — but pink blossoms had began to spring on the bushes and trees and the sky was blue, which instantly lifted your mood just that little bit.

You were curled by the large window that morning, still in your pyjamas and holding a mug beneath your chin, gazing out at the bright grass. When Abby had entered the room, she was surprised to hear you gently comment that “The weathers nice today.” — a rare sentence that wasn’t defying or insulting her. Abby looked over to you, noting your peaceful demeanour and deciding to carefully toe the line.

“Do you wanna… go outside today?” She suggested, something the two of them could possibly do together. She almost grimaced, waiting for you to curse her out like usual but instead you paused quietly for a few seconds before responding.

“I can introduce you to the horses.” With that, you hopped off the window seat and disappeared to get dressed. When you returned, your hair was in tidier condition and you wore a dress made for summer with only a thick knit cardigan over the top. She itched to tell you it was still way too cold to dress like that, but figured she didn’t wanna aggravate you before you’ve even made it out the door. Today was the day Abby would get through to you.

You were quieter than usual, assumably worn out and in higher spirits due to the sunshine. You’d received the horses as a gift on your sixteenth birthday — but due to the cold weather and outright depression you hardly rode them anymore, instead making sure they lived a healthy and luxurious life on your land and fed the best foods by their handler (mainly out of guilt.) Abby could tell you’d regret your outfit choice as the two of you walked along the pathway through the lush greenery outside, pulling your cardigan tighter around your body, head tilted as you watched the birds fly over the pond.

“What are your horses names?” She conversed lightly, stuffing her large hands into the pockets of her black bomber jacket.

“Cinnamon and blondie.” You answer quietly, before speaking up a few moments later. “Don’t judge the lack of creativity I was sixteen when I picked the names out.”

The pair of you reach the barn and she huffs a quiet chuckle out her nose, watching you pick up a brush as you approached the brown and blonde horses. “Hey, I think those names are perfectly fitting.”

She wasn’t sure why she wanted you to like her so badly all of a sudden. She partially thought it was because if you did you’d make her life and her job easier — but… no, it was more personal than that. You’d deprived her of seeing your pretty smile so much that she felt almost awestruck at the sight of your peaceful and joyful expression as you gently combed Cinnamons mane. She caught herself smiling as she watched.

The two of you talked. Like actually talked without hurling insults or rolling eyes. You sat on the hay, watching as she fed Blondie a carrot. Abby’s teeth were always so white and perfect, perfecting an already perfect smile. Perhaps you were in a good mood, because the thought of calling her perfect didn’t quite irritate you as much as it usually would.

“Have you even ridden a horse?” You’re still bashful about making regular conversation as you pluck at the hay from the bale you sit on.

“Nah.” She shucks off her jacket, the air in the barn balmier and muggier than the outside. It’s hard to not let your eyes flicker down to her strong arms, so you don’t deny yourself.

“Not even as a little girl?” You question and she chuckles a little.

“I didn’t have horse money.” There’s a pitch of longing behind her tone and you tilt your head, wondering about her upbringing. She senses your inquisition and glances up at you as she continues to stroke the horse. “I didn’t have much money for pretty much my whole life. It was actually why I got into the bodyguard industry. Good pay.” She shrugs one shoulder like it was nothing.

“Did you get to go to public school? Like in the city?” You lean forward with your elbows on your knees, chin balanced on your palms in intrigue. The way you said it sparked some amusement in her, ‘get to go to public school’. Like to you it was some sort of luxury.

“Yep. Got the bus everyday too.” Her eyebrow twitches up with a smirk, turning to walk towards you with her jacket in her hand. Whilst she expects you to pick up on her playful tone and perhaps roll your eyes, you continue to stare up at her in awe— an air of innocent curiosity around you that made her suddenly fight the urge to run a thumb over your cheek. She stood over you, placing her jacket by your side and you preened a little at how big she looked above you like that. Part of you felt mad at yourself for having developed a crush, knowing it was interfering with your plans — but you were touch starved. Really touch starved, so you allowed yourself a little yearning for your strict but not so strict bodyguard.

You clear your throat before speaking quietly. “You’re so lucky.”

At this, she scoffs, dropping down to sit beside you. Your skin felt a little warmer when her thigh pressed up next to yours.

“I wouldn’t say that. Would have traded lives with you in a heartbeat.”

You turn to her with a frown. “My life was boring. I didn’t get to do sneaky, crazy teenager things. I went to a small private school and had my small group of friends there and… we couldn’t do anything without dumb bodyguards riding my coattail. The only time we got privacy was in the girls bathroom, and even then if we took too long they’d come knocking.” You complain, pushing your shoe into the gravel.

“Oh, I see. So you didn’t get to be a bratty teenager so you’re making up for lost years now.” She spoke it with a smile, but assumes she took it too far as along came your infamous eye roll, shuffling away from her on the seat as the irritation snuck back in.

“I am not a brat.”

“And I’m not your bodyguard.” She challenges gently with a smile, nudging her knee against yours. You look at her with a stubborn pout and her smile doesn’t falter. “You’re not really a brat. I can bet you’re a sweet girl that just wants attention so you’re acting out.” Didn’t your father say she was supposed to be tough? Please. You say nothing. Your heart races in your chest but you’re too stubborn to say a word. Maybe you’d let your guard down too much. Roll your eyes again, that’ll do it.

After a moment you look away, not because you were still mad but more so because you were flustered. Sweet girl rung around your head like church bells.

“I know you wanna get rid of me.” She begins and you tense up a little. Way to ruin a nice morning.

“And?”

“I know why. You think you wanna be independent and get away from your parents. You have this… idea of living on your own in the city. Am I right?”

You’re prideful, facing away from her with your chin up. “You’re not wrong.”

She sighs out a little chuckle, shaking her head as she leans forward with her elbows resting on her thighs, head turned towards your profile. “You don’t want that life. Trust me. I’ve lived it and it’s hard.”

“Whats hard is having no freedom, no social life, being followed constantly because no one trusts you to make sensible adult decisions.” You snap at her, turning to look her in the eye.

“So you talk to your dad, try and see eye to eye. Not just… pack up and move out like you’re running away to the circus.” She reasons, like it’s just that simple. Her eyes dart across your face as she sees the rage build, infuriated by the assumption that your father was at all the type to negotiate.

“Theres no just talking to my father, Abby. This is it. This is my life unless I get out of here. I can’t live this way forever.” You raise your voice a little, frustrated at her lack of understanding. “I don’t know what your parents are like, but I’m sure you wouldn’t get it.”

She smiles in that way that people smile when they’re mad or upset, tilting her head down to look at her hands for a moment as she inhaled, shaking her head with a speechless chuckle when she exhaled. “I never knew my mom, and my dad died when I was sixteen. I don’t have the luxury of arguing with my dad like you do. Sorry.” She sarks and your face drops, which sparks a little guilt in that secretly soft heart of hers — because truthfully there was no way you could have known, and she could tell by your face you were immediately mortified. You stumble for words after a moment.

“Look. I can’t forgive my father for practically imprisoning me. We… we have a complicated relationship and I think we always will. He says he cares and then does nothing but ruin my life. But… he’s still my dad. No one should ever have to go through losing their father, especially not at that age. I’m… I’m sorry Abby. I can’t imagine what that’s like.” You speak quietly and she listens, an unreadable expression on her face as she does so. When you finish, her eyebrows flicker up ever so slightly.

“Huh.” She breathes, quietly.

“What?” You furrow your brows, sympathetic expression lingering.

“So you are capable of basic empathy. I had no idea.” She let’s a smile slip and your face drops into one of deadpan.

“Bye.” You go to stand up but she laughs and grips your arm, her strong but somewhat affectionate hand not allowing you to leave her side. You sigh with an irritated pout, facing away from her again. When her chuckles die down, she speaks again, her hand staying wrapped around the flesh of your arm.

“So what’s your plan then. You inevitably get me fired, you move into the city by yourself and then what. Where are you gonna work? You won’t be able to afford living in an apartment by yourself so who are you gonna live with?” She fires at you, realising she’s still gripping your arm and letting her fingers trail down a little before leaving your skin all together. You hate how it leaves goosebumps in her wake.

“I’ll use my family name to get me a job somewhere. As for roommates I’m not too sure, I suppose I’ll have to start looking online.” You smirk, glancing at her out the corner of your eye. “Perhaps I’ll just find a girlfriend first who will let me move in with her.”

The mention of a girlfriend makes heat prickle behind Abby’s ears. She had a sixth sense for these kind of things, most of the time able to tell when someone preferred the company of the same sex — mainly down to her own preferences, and she could tell almost immediately with you. However, it was always pleasurable to get the confirmation that she was infact, once again correct.

“Oh yeah? You think anyone else is gonna put up with that princess attitude but me? You better start working on your game.” She jests, and the mention of her tolerating your princess ways caused you to bite down a little on your bottom lip.

“What, you’re saying you’re not charmed by me?” You joke back for once, turning to face her to bat your eyelashes. She chuckles softly, eyes lingering on you for a moment too long before looking away and pushing herself up to stand by pressing her hands into her knees with a quiet grunt.

“Can’t say the insults and tantrums did it for me. Good luck to you though.” She allows a smirk to flit back onto her pouty lips before she thrusts a hand out, allowing you to take it so she could help you up, once again proving to you both that she was actually more than happy to tolerate that princess attitude she speaks of so poorly.

By the next day, your head is back in the game. All this talk of moving out set you straight, and whilst bonding with Abby in the barn certainly set you multiple steps back — you were back to your old self in no time, dead set on getting her to budge so that you could be free’d from your fathers watchful eye.

You eye your search bar on Google, sprawled on your front on your bed with your laptop open infront of you, having just typed ‘Roommates for sale backspace Roommates in the city friendly and not weird’. As you scrolled through the unhelpful results, your door opened — Abby standing in your doorway.

“Jesus do you ever fucking knock?” You curse, glaring up at where she stands in the doorway wearing her usual tight black tshirt and thick belted cargos and boots.

“Good to see you’re back to your usual self.” She sarks with a dramatic eye roll as she leans on her hip, refocusing (which took an extra second because you’re just wearing a little skirt and top today and lying on your front is making her think things.) “I’ve gotta go get my car serviced so I’m dropping it off at the garage thirty minutes away. You think you can survive an hour without me here?”

You’re not looking at her, continuing to scroll as you wave her off with just a distracted mumble causing her to shake her head and tsk followed by a chuckle as she pushes off her feet, disappearing down the hallway. “I won’t be too long. Stay out of trouble, smart girl.” She calls to you, before you eventually heard the sound of the front door shutting and then her car rumbling around the fountain infront of the entrance and out of the large iron gates. Finally, some peace and quiet.

However, after around thirty-five minutes, you had to admit you’d grown bored. You were home alone, and the room-mate search was coming to just about nothing so you had given up all together for the time being. You flop onto your back on the bed, huffing. Where you’d usually get up with the boredom and go to bother Abby until she argues back — you couldn’t. So, you figured you’d turn to the next best thing, listening to music whilst you do a light work out.

You didn’t like working out when Abby was home, because — as if she were a moth to a flame, she couldn’t help herself from interjecting and gym-rat-splaining everything you’re doing wrong and how to improve. The last time she walked in on you doing pilates, you nearly chucked a weight at her head because she started dishing out unwarranted advice. You knew she did it just to bother you, wearing that shit eating grin on her face when she’d lift a bicep and flex it, stating that it was ‘living proof that you should listen to me.’

You thought also that maybe a workout would help burn off some of the… frustration you woke up with. Perhaps it was the tension ridden barn conversation the two of you shared yesterday, a reminder of your starvation for touch, maybe you just had a load of tempting dreams that you weren’t remembering — but you woke up with your cunt aching and hungry to be filled. You figured this was the real reason behind your bad mood returning with such a vigour, and you couldn’t get yourself off, not wanting to give Abby the satisfaction of walking in (without knocking, no doubt) on you with your legs splayed out and fingers deep inside your wanting hole, probably accidentally moaning her name— or whatever. You couldn’t say the thought of doing so didn’t make things worse though.

When you rolled off the bed and onto your feet, you took a moment to collect yourself at the frustration of remembering that Abby still had your God-damn headphones somewhere, having stashed it away due to you using it as a prop to taunt her. You cursed her out, and then cursed yourself out for getting your beloved headphones confiscated before sighing. If Abby wanted to invade your privacy by not knocking, and taking away your personal items — you could invade her privacy by going into her room and searching for them. Perhaps you could even return them before she was back.

It seemed like a sound plan, so you padded down the hallway until you were met with the door to the guest bedroom where she had been residing. You push the door open, for some reason your stomach twisting in excitement at the small thrill of being sneaky— something you rarely got to experience. The room was clean and tidy, and smelt like her. You push further into the room, looking around and spotting a few of the black shiny duffel bags she’d brought along with her — the rest of her things assumably packed away into the closets. You kneel, unzipping the first.

Your hand sticks inside, rustling about only to be met with metal plated weights and an exercise mat. You huff, zipping it back up and trying the next one. You spot them instantly inside, but tsk when you struggle to pull them out — the headband portion of the listening device tangled with something else. You pull them both out, pulling them apart as you do so and gasp when you realise what you’re holding. A strap on. A harness with a dildo attached.

You drop it, nearly falling onto your back like a spider had just leapt out at you— your eyes widening. Placing your headphones aside slowly, you lift it again — observing it. Why on Earth did she have that with her? Your heart jumped slightly in jealousy, wondering if she was planning on bringing someone over and using it on them. Was she fucking someone, just a few doors down from you? In a moment of sick depravity and curiosity, you slowly bring the shaft beneath your nose— inhaling to smell if there were any… remnants of usage, or at best cleaning products to signify it had been used and cleaned. Your face feels hot in shame as you do so, and it just smells like new plastic. It looked new too. You pull it back, looking at it. It hadn’t been used at all.

“God, Abby.” You whisper as you turn it side to side, harness tickling your leg as you grip the girth of it. It was black and shiny like everything else she owned, roughly 7 inches with veins and thick— just as you expected from the broad bodyguard. There were balls attached too, and you run your fingertips over them gently, lightly pressing down to feel it’s texture. As you do so, translucent white liquid gathers at the tip of the dildo, a small trail of it running down the side of the shaft obscenely. You gasp lightly again as your cunt clenches hard without warning. A breeding strap, now you had only ever seen those in porn videos from your phone screen late at night with a hand down your pyjama shorts.

You’d been fucked with a strap before, of course. You’d had been allowed romantic relationships in the past, and your parents of all things were surprisingly cool with the gay thing. Of course, your father had to background check them first and practically set up play dates with their family (Undoubtably another wealthy family) However, the times you’d experienced with them were all short lived, fumbly and overall incompatible. It was clear that you and your past two partners were there purely to experience some sort of relief from their sexual frustration — which resulted in just rolling around the bed whilst your parents dined together downstairs, them gliding their smaller strap in your tight pussy as you clumsily rut against eachother. The experiences were somewhat fun and naive, but you never got to cum or experience real pleasure and satisfaction.

Oh but Abby, you could tell she had to have experience. She had been out there in the world, seasoned and a few years older than you — and when you look like that, with that kind of body, there was no way she wasn’t having girls in and out her apartment door like some kind of cock carousel.

You felt your wet folds pulsing with need to be touched, and you bit your lip — wondering how much time you had as it seemed to have majorly escaped you. The idea of fucking yourself with your bodyguards strap without her knowing had you wetter than you cared to admit from just your own daydreams in your bed, and you’d decided fuck it, consider it pay back for putting a dent in your plans.

You were squatted on the ground still, but now your skirt and panties were draped messily on the sleek wooden flooring by your side — excitedly holding the strap by the dildo wearing just a tight little crop top and nothing else like you were Winnie the fucking Pooh. It was humiliating in the way that made you reach down, checking and confirming that your slick had gathered across your lower region— pent up and built up from the past few hours of general frustration.

You had no idea how that beast was meant to fit inside of you, but you’d grown desperate — eagerly pulling it downwards and hovering over it, smearing the pearly liquid from the tip around in your slick as the harness clattered against the floor. You let out a sigh, only to realise you were trembling from the adrenaline of doing something you shouldn’t. Biting back an excited grin, you push in slightly — the stretch making you wince, brows furrowing. You let out a harsh breath, whispering ‘Fuck’ to yourself as you do so, just the tip stretching you beyond what you’ve ever taken before. You balance on the flats of your feet, toes curling against the ground and eyes squeezing shut as you try and push in further, the thickness making you quietly cry out, unable to take it properly.

Tears sprung to your eyes, half at the stretch and half in frustration at the inability to fit it inside of you. “C’mon, please.” You whine quietly to no one, walls spasming around the plastic, which now was slick with your arousal dripping down it. You were beyond turned on, to the point where you were starting to feel a little pathetic. You tried to ease up, reaching down to rub your clit to help you along as you take a deep breath, mind trying to ease itself — visions of Abby touching you instead of your own hand, moaning quietly and frustratedly at the thought of her strapping you.

You try and push it deeper, and it seems like your walls are about to let up — but the door flies open and so do your eyes. Your world comes crumbling down in humiliation, your ears ringing and face burning hot; Abby stands before you, eyes wide and jaw slack with pink cheeks.

Your first thought is to pull the dildo out, and the size of it makes you let out a quiet pained whine as you do so. She’s frozen, and the rage takes over you. It’s the most comfortable emotion in a situation like this.

“I told you to knock!” You yell, grabbing your skirt and throwing the dildo to the ground.

“This— this is my room!” Her voice is high and defensive, still processing what she just saw as everything happened so quickly. You pull your skirt up and grab your panties off the floor and to make the embarrassment worse — you burst into tears before you’ve made it out the door, storming past her and slamming the door to your room. The final blow was realising you’d left the headphones behind.

Abby watches you until you’re out of sight before turning her head slowly back to the strap on laying abandoned on the floor, a single drip of what looks like your arousal beside it. Jesus, she thinks, letting out a long sigh and running her hand over her face as she enters the room fully — letting the door shut behind her. She slowly lowers herself into a squat, thick thighs bulging in her cargos as she inspects the scene. Abby lifts the harness, before grabbing the dildo by the suction end and sucking in a hitched breath at how you’d soaked it only a little way down. Your poor pussy, she thinks as her lower region warms guiltily at the imagery now the shock had worn off. “Was a good attempt.” She mutters to herself, tossing the dildo onto her bed and sighing, standing up and stroking beneath her chin in thought. She worries, wonders what you must have thought about her seeing that she’d brought a strap on into your home. You must’ve thought she was some kind of perv, right? How was she supposed to bring you back from this?

As you lay face down on your bed, crying embarrassed tears for an hour straight— you wonder if it would have been less embarrassing if Abby had followed you into your room rather than leaving you to storm off on your own. She probably didn’t want to see you, or speak to you for the matter of fact. You sit up, wiping your cheeks furiously — if that were the case, you had the right to be mad at her. It was her fault, she took your headphones which spiralled into this whole thing. Was it better to let things fizzle out and be awkward? You couldn’t think of anything worse, so you finally rose to your feet again, cleaning up your appearance with your jaw clenched before storming back down the hallway. You were going to finish this, and make her leave for good.

You didn’t bother to knock, because when did she bother? You pushed the door open so hard it bang loudly against the wall, and Abby turned around from her dresser — going through some envelopes, totally unphased.

“I’m taking my headphones!” You practically holler, an accusatory finger pointed right at her. She places the envelope aside as she leans against the dresser crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.

“Okay.”

“And my father will be receiving a call! Yes, I will call him and tell him that you’re rude, you push boundaries, and you don’t ever fucking knock on any door!” You raise your voice even louder, counting off your fingers as she stares at you.

“Again, this is my room and I didn’t know you were in here.” She explains slowly like you were stupid, which only enrages you more.

“This is my house!” You shriek, waving your hands and she pushes off the dresser, stepping towards you.

“Is it?” She frowns. “Do you even pay any rent?”

You falter for just a second, but it’s enough for her to see and nearly smile, which only builds your emotion. “This is my families house. On your very first day here you said that you were a guest in my house, so act like one. My. House.” You step closer to meet her in the centre of the room, eyes boring up into hers as she watched you, unimpressed, tongue in her cheek.

She couldn’t lie, you were hot when you were mad. Infuriating, sure. But hot. Hot in the way where she wanted to shut you up, make you cum until you weren’t fighting back — just babbling aimlessly, frown fully melted from your face. Fuck you until you learnt a lesson. The thought made her stand up a little straighter.

“Yeah?” She tilts her head daringly, and enraged you step up closer, bodies nearly touching just so you could yell in her face.

“My. Hou—” You go to repeat yourself for emphasis but you’re cut off by the feeling of her hand gripping your cheeks, smushing them. When she speaks, it’s calm and menacing. You stare up at her wide eyed.

“You’re not gonna talk to me like that. You’re embarrassed, sweet girl — and I feel for you, but don’t you ever yell in my face like that. You understand me?” She tilts her head further, eyes on you. You’re humiliated, knees knocking into eachother at her calling you sweet girl whilst berating you and you frown, still panting — all hot faced and furious. She uses your cheeks to make you nod and you groan. “Good. If you wanna talk about what happened, let’s talk. But before you come up here and start accusing me of shit, remember that you came in here searching, and you found that,” she turns your face so that you were looking at the strap on laying on the bed. She stays facing you, eyes browsing the side of your face now. Your eyes widen a little at the sight, the memory of using it replaying in your head. “And you decided to use it without asking me.” She steps back a little, eyeing you (not even bothering to hide the hunger anymore). “Okay. Say your piece.” She gestures with her hand and you collect yourself, pulling in a shaky breath.

You admit, the confidence from your tone had vanished. “I was just trying to look for my headphones. I wanted to work out.” You explain and she nods, encouraging you to go on. “You… you brought that into this house, why?” You point at the toy on the bed, the embarrassment starting to slip through again in your pathetic tone of voice.

“Its not your business what I bring with me in my own bag.” Her velvety voice was quick to answer and your brow creased, running out of reasons to shift the blame onto her.

“Well… you can’t bring things like that here it’s — it’s inappropriate.” You internally curse yourself out for stuttering.

“You didn’t seem to have any complaints an hour ago when you were trying to stuff it inside yourself.” She shrugs like she just couldn’t help it from leaving her mouth and in your embarrassment you turn to leave again, walking towards the door. She follows and reaches over your head and shuts it in front of you before you can, grabbing your arm and turning you around so that your back was pressed to it now as she looms over you. “What? Am I wrong?”

“Abby.” You go to complain, but it comes out as a weak whisper.

“Is that why you did it? Maybe you were trying to get caught so you’d have a reason to get all mad and go batshit crazy on me, huh? Still going ahead with that bullshit plan of yours to send me packing?” Abby theorises and you lower your gaze, head tilted towards the ground as you thought. It wasn’t that, you weren’t brave enough. You were genuinely just being disgusting and horny and got yourself caught — which to you was all the more shameful. She knocks your chin up with her knuckle, making you look up at her again. “Or maybe you wanted to get caught so you could be punished. Is that what you wanted? ‘That why you been such a fucking brat?”

“Not a brat.” You huff, though you couldn’t deny it any further than that.

“You know what a brat is? Girls like you,” She poked a finger into your chest. “Who wanna be put in their place so they act out. I’m starting to think that’s just what you need.”

You try and push off the door but she’s blocking you to do so, bodies too close. “Do you really think I’d come in here and yell at you just because I wanna get spanked or whatever?” You bite back, proud of the comeback until she roughly spins you around by the hips so your cheek was pressed to the wooden door, back a little arched. She takes a fist of your skirt and yanks it up, holding it to your lower back making you gasp — fully exposing your bare rear. She chuckles and you wanna die.

“I dunno, didn’t even bother putting on a new pair of panties before coming up in here. Seems to me like you knew what you were doing. Lost the bass in your voice too, smart girl. Where’d all that anger go?” Her hand is gentle when it cups your ass, feeling the meat of it in her hand. You could not believe this was happening. You were mortified. Soaked, but mortified.

You try to fight back with your words, but it’s coming out in little huffs and embarrassed pants at the feeling of her grabbing your ass. “I’m— m’gonna tell — gonna tell on—”

“You’re gonna tell on me?” She snickered. “Are you gonna tell the full story? What you were doing on the floor when I walked in?” She purs in your ear and you can hear her smiling. She’s sick.

You say nothing, because if you’re being honest you’re giving up on your resolve— the feeling of her hands on you just melting your anger away like ice. “No I didn’t think so.”

She gives your ass a light slap, just enough to jiggle it and make you whimper at the suddenness before turning you back around, eyes glancing between yours seriously. “You wanna know what I think?”

You sigh and nod, not trusting your voice at this point.

She gently takes you by the arm and walks you over to the foot of the bed, picking up the strap and holding it. “I think you need to clean my strap for me.”

The way she says it makes you feel hot and bothered, and you go to reach for it to shamefully disappear and wash it in the sink but she holds it out of your reach, raising her eyebrows playfully as she stares you down for a moment. “Not like that.”

She brings the strap down, stepping into the leg holes of the harness before pulling it up and adjusting it to fit her by the hoops at the hip. You watch, trembling — the sight of her standing there with a huge cock something you had only dreamt of, making you squeeze your thighs together. You hated yourself for how weak willed you’d become.

“You can clean it up that smart mouth of yours.” She smiles simply before placing both hands on your shoulders and pushing you down slowly to the ground. She sits too on the edge of the bed, spreading her thighs wide to accommodate to you between them. She wanted you to suck her off? Now that was just degrading. You pursed your lips, trying and failing to ignore the rush of slick seeping from you.

“Abby. Come on.” You whisper and she looks at you for a moment, making you shrink where you were kneeled before leaning forward, gently grasping your chin again, her face millimetres from yours.

“It’s the least you can do.” She threatens before leaning back on her hands, nodding towards her cock. She nearly folds and leans forward to kiss you when she sees the big, sweet, doe eyes you give her — so far removed from your usual glare. If she knew that all she had to do was dom the good girl out of you, her previous month would have been a lot easier.

You gingerly grip the shaft with your hand, bringing your face towards it. God, it smells like you still— to think that only an hour ago you were on the ground trying to shove it inside yourself. Your brows furrow as you kitten lick the top, before suckling on the top with a low moan in your throat gaining confidence. “Good girl.” She praises as you push down a little, sucking harder to the point where you can taste the breeding liquid. You’re not quite sure if it’s meant to be consumed but you don’t care, you don’t care about anything at this point.

You wanna push down further, but you’re struck with a thought and pull off her with a pop— glaring up at her with some of your leftover brattiness.

“What’s that face for?” She hums. You struggle to find your words.

“You… We’re…” You huff, sulkily and she watches the glimmer of longing pass over your face. “You’re making me suck you off and you haven’t even kissed me.” You finally get it out and she smirks, but not totally in a mean way — more so adoringly. Smushing your cheeks again with her hand, she pulls your face in, meeting you in the middle as her cock brushes against your chest as her lips meet yours. It’s a hard, wet, sloppy kiss with your cheeks smushed but it’ll do, and when she pulls off you with a loud smack she roughly rubs her thumb beneath your pouty bottom lip to remove the residual saliva. “Now get back to work.”

She holds back a giggle at the sight of your own pleased smile as you go back down, licking up the sides and cleaning off the plastic — groaning at the residual taste of you clinging to it. This was cruel, wicked even — and you were enjoying it.

“Thats it. Knew I’d be able to find better use for that mouth. Must be tired from running it so much.” Her voice is gentle despite the degradation and it fills your brain with a hazy, muddled fog — not sure how to feel anymore. You pull up for air after taking as much as you can, and as soon as your lips wrap around the dick again, Abby can’t help herself from pressing her hand down on the back of your head gently, muttering a ��‘Can do better than that, pretty.” as you gag around her. This seemed to be the first straw in what broke the camels back.

It had dawned on you, half way through sucking her off that after this she was likely just to throw you out on your ass, back to your room to take care of yourself. Getting you on your knees infront of her was her way of winning once and for all, and this was only one last humiliation to shut you up completely. You hadn’t realised you were in your head until Abby was pulling her strap out your mouth, tilting your chin up to her as she leant forward once more. “Hey. Where’d you go just now?”

You try and break away, trying to catch her tip in your mouth again, jaw a little agape and tongue peeping out but she grips your chin more firmly, shaking you a little. “Hey. Look at me.”

“S’nothing Abby. Just lemme—”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” You swallow thickly, shaking your head.

“Then what?”

You suck in a deep breath. “Are you gonna chuck me out after this? Are you… are you only doing this to embarrass me?” She stares at you in perplexity as she watched your mouth turn down, emotions catching up with you as you squeeze your eyes shut — two fat tears sliding down your tears.

“Hey, no.” She’s still a little confused, but she wipes your tears away with the back of her hand anyway. She sighs, pulling you up by the arm and sitting you on her thigh. “Okay. Maybe this kind of thing isn’t for you. That’s okay.”

You wipe your nose, a little calmer and clearer headed now. “I was enjoying it. I think I just… I feel like no one cares about me. It just caught up with me that’s all. We can get back to it.” You go to stand up off her but she holds you tighter, making you look at her.

“I care about you. I stupidly, really care about you.” She speaks sincerely, and you stare at her analytically before realising that she actually truly means it. Abby cares about you.

She pulls you in gently this time, lips locking against yours. It’s not mean, or sarky, or trying to tease you — it’s a real meaningful kiss and you just melt. All that anger, all that competitiveness just melts off you like ice cream on a hot and hazy day. You wrap your arms around her neck, letting her lick into your mouth and dominate your tongue with her own, pulling it in and sucking on it making you shift on her thigh and whimper. You think about grinding down on her thick, cargo covered thighs and how good that might feel after a month of staring at them — but before you can, she’s easing you to lay on your back on the bed.

“Can show you how much I care about you. Maybe we can start over, how’s that sound?” She whispers into the space below your ear, pressing a wet kiss there and you let out a shaky huff, nodding. “Gonna need your words though. That’s how this works, sweet girl.”

“Please show me.”

“Like that, good job.”

Her hands look large, but they feel even larger — especially when they’re beside eachother, running up beneath your top— fingertips brushing over your hard nipples as she tests the waters, smiling against your skin when your back arches up into her, a sensitive whine quietly passing your lips. She slowly drags up your top, pushing herself down your body to pepper kisses down the centre of your chest, letting out a quiet groan of her own when she grips your tit with her hand, massaging the plush flesh. “M—outh” You choke out in a pleasured haze and she chuckles, eyebrows jumping up in amusement as she adjusts her position.

“Should have known you’d know exactly what you want.” She teases before flattening her tongue over the bud of your nipple, pulling back to blow cold air on it to harden it making you wince sensitively. The smile barely leaves her when she dips down, wrapping her pouty pink lips around the bud and sucking, soothing her tongue over it and digging her teeth in ever so slightly, letting them scrape over your nipple when she pulls away. “Fuck, so pretty.” She grits her teeth, reaching up and grabbing it in her hand again letting it jiggle beneath her palm.

You buck your hips again, which directs her attention to your lower regions — forcing her to depart from your breast to continue her journey down your body. She sits up, both hands encasing your waist, rubbing thumbs into your lower ribs gently. “Anyone ever eat your pussy?”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the bold question and your eyes flutter open, not quite remembering when you closed them. “No.”

She grins, like that was just the answer she was after and climbs back down— kissing your stomach and then flipping your skirt up so she could kiss your pubic mound. You shiver, a little insecure but filled with desire more than anything as her hands slide up between your legs. “Open these up for me.” She whispers, and her hot breath wafts over your needing cunt when she reveals it, pulling back to look at it.

You feel your chest and face get hot as she stares— dark eyed and hungry straight at your most private area. “So fucking pretty.” She whispers, thumbs sliding either side of your fat lips and pulling them apart, her brows furrowing. “You always get this wet? Jesus.”

You don’t answer, because you don’t quite have the guts to tell her that you don’t remember the last time someone had aroused you this much, to the point where it’s taken over your body and brain entirely.

She leans in, and you expect her tongue to dart out first — but she spits, directly on your clit making you jolt with a whimper, then chasing it up with the flat of her tongue as her thick arms wrap around your thighs, jaw practically unhinging as she starts eating you like her life depends on it.

You moan, loudly and with less shame as time passes now, grinding your hips up into her face — which she matches by pinning them back down to the bed, only pulling away to briefly grab a cushion from the bed and slot it beneath your hips to elevate you slightly — so fast and expertly you barely realise she’s done it before she’s back to mouthing at your crotch.

“Feels so good!” You whine and she chuckles against you, the vibration of which sends shockwaves through to your stomach. “Need you to fuck me.” You mutter, more to yourself but she acknowledges it anyway, the hands that were massaging your hips sliding between your thighs.

“If you want to take my cock I’m gonna need to prep you. You saw yourself, s’never gonna fit with how tight you are right now.”

With this new information, you feel her finger tips sliding through your soaked folds gently as she suckles on your clit relentlessly. You whine, trying your best not to clamp down when she slides in her finger, and then another. You were in heaven, panting up to the ceiling as she fingerfucks you, l your hand sliding down to encase itself in her golden hair — glowing from the sunset streaming in through the window.

She moans as she tastes you, brows furrowed and eyes clamped shut like she could feel every movement of her tongue herself. “Gonna give you one more okay? Need to stretch you— still so fucking tight.” She speaks against you and all you can do is nod, in fact at that point you’d probably let her do anything she wanted to you. It was such a relief to drop the act, to just relax and let her take care of you.

A third finger prods at your entrance and you wince as she slowly slides it in, looking up at you to watch your expression — brows pinching and eye twitching at the feeling, walls wrapping tightly round her thick fingers. “There you go, pretty girl. Took that like a champ.” She kisses your hip bone before getting back to work, slowly and experimentally fucking her three fingers in and out, curling them up to grind against your upper gummy inner wall.

“Feel like I’m gonna cum, Abby it’s — it’s so much.” You shake, toes curled so hard they’d gone white and she hums kindly against you, pulling off your clit again with a loud spitty pop.

“I know baby, I know. Let it out.” She whispers, rushed and syrupy like she was too on the precipice of a moan. She moves her tongue in quick successions around your clit as you start to buck and ride against her fingers, a clammy sound matching this — your wetness creating music against her knuckles as you fuck against them. “Cum, smart girl, cum.”

You do, and you’re so full it’s like there’s nowhere for the cum to go — and therefore you feel like you might explode, suddenly letting out loud cries and whines as you shake and jerk on the bed, only to be held down by Abby’s strong arms. She moans too, because you’re dripping down her wrists and her chin — seeming to have a never ending quantity of cum as she laps it up. You taste exactly how she thought you would.

You can’t even tell she’s stopped because your legs are still violently shaking for a minute, coming down from your orgasm felt like it would never end— but you were grounded by the feeling of Abby’s lips on your cheek, sliding her hands under your back to hold you. “I know, it’s okay. Good job.” She cooes into your hair, silencing your nonsensical babbles. She doesn’t push you to move onto the next thing, just stroking your skin and pressing her lips to your skin until you were calm.

Abby feels tugging down below, and looks down between your bodies to see your hand wrapped around her shaft, tugging towards you as your legs fall open again limply. She winces like she can feel it, and she swears she can when you lazily run your thumb over the tip that had drizzled some of the pearlescent liquid out from all the movement. She watches you play with the spillage between your fingers, before bringing it to your puffy cunt, spreading it through your folds and whimpering at the sensitivity.

“Shit, babe.” She sighs out, the room feeling suddenly much warmer. “You wanna continue?”

“Mhm. Was prepping to take you, remember?” You brush the loose strand from her braid hanging over her cheek out of her face. The gesture is intimate, like two lovers who have been together for a while. You almost feel embarrassed again but she turns her cheek and kisses your palm.

She nestles the pads of her fingers into your folds again, sliding around in your arousal and you sigh out at the sensitivity, the urge to be filled returning from its brief satisfaction. “Well you’re definitely wet enough.” She smirks in disbelief, and you can’t believe that there was a time where you would have rolled your eyes at such comments — now only doe eyed and lip bitten as your legs fall open wider. Her fingers are replaced by her strap, sliding up and down — collecting your wetness along it, a whimper leaving you when the tip nudges against your swollen clit.

“Think you’re ready for me?” She asks and before she’s even finished the sentence you moan out a quick and desperate ‘yes!’ making her laugh, keeling into herself with her chin to her chest for a moment. She looks cute and you want to kiss her again. In due time, you think. “How long has it been since you last got fucked?” She continues sliding her strap up and down. Abby secretly thinks she’s stalling, because she wants this closeness to last.

You shake your head breathlessly, trying to clear the fog in order to answer her simple question. Why was she asking questions at a time like this?

“Like — nine months maybe a year?” You answer and she nods, understandingly.

“It’s no wonder you’re so tight. This is gonna be quite a squeeze, yeah?” She looks you deep in your eyes, like she did every time she wanted you to really listen.

“I know, s’okay.” You breathe, and at this she takes your hand in her larger one.

“S’gonna be big. You can squeeze my hand if you want. Deep breath in.” She instructs and you slowly inhale as she pushes in, your hand squeezing hers as you clench around her thick length.

The “Fuck” you let out in a breathy groan is obscene and borderline pornagraphic, which makes Abby fight the urge to bottom out completely and shove her cock inside you fully all at once, but she’s patient, her breath hitching as she reassures you.

“I know, I know.” is all she can say as she pushes in further.

“W—wait.” You tense up a little and she freezes with no hesitation, letting you adjust to the stretch as she drops kisses onto your jaw until you were ready. This happened a couple of times, and she’d oblige to your wishes each time you halt her until she was fully seated inside you.

You felt like the air had been punched out of you, Abby was so deep. “Hows that?” She whispers.

“So big.” You mewl.

“Taking it so well. See, we got it all in the end.” She praises, quiet and gleeful watching you blissed out beneath her.

“Y’not getting paid enough for this, he’s not paying you enough to deal with me.” You babble into her shoulder in regards to her deal with your father, legs trembling around her hips.

“You kidding me? He’s paying me to fuck his daughters pretty pussy, think I’ll be okay.” She scoffs into your neck, sucking wet kisses into the skin there, hips still not moving as you adjust.

“S’not why he’s paying you.” Your nose turns up and she chuckles before lifting her face to hover right above yours, lips occasionally brushing. She begins to move her hips and you both gasp at the feeling.

“How about… instead of arguing with me… you shut up and take my fucking strap.” She whispers temptingly and you go limp again, apart from your hips which twitch against her movements letting her grind her strap in and out of you slowly.

“Oh my god!” You cry, letting go of her hand to wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her into you to connect your lips. She lets you whimper against her and suck on her bottom lip whilst she concentrates on finding that angle. She knows she’s struck gold when your legs jerk around her before your heels dig into her ass.

“Faster please Abby, please faster!” You sound deranged, at the point she wanted you all along — cockdrunk and desperate without a care in the world. She clenches around nothing at the thought of just keeping you this dumb all the time.

She speeds up on command, hips smacking against you now as she pulls away to watch the way your tits bounce beneath her. “Oh baby, you’re fucking taking it.” She pants, impressed at how quickly you’ve allowed her to really go in on you. She reaches between you to rub your clit and you squeal, tears springing to your eyes. “Yeah? Want me to rub it? S’it that good, pretty girl?”

“Yes! Please! I— I can’t Abby it’s too — Abby please I wanna— need to cum!” Your hands are curled into her t-shirt adorably which only makes her go harder, practically punching the sounds out of you like a squeaky toy each time she thrusts. You feel yourself teetering over the edge once more, abused pussy relentlessly sucking her in with obscene wet noises attached. Before you can release, your hand reaches down to cup the balls of the strap. “Want it inside, please Ab— please want it inside me—” You ramble and she catches on, and as you tense up, letting out a pained whine as you cum, she slides her hand on top of yours, pressing down to empty the cum lube inside you. The feeling of the warm liquid spurting against your cervix makes you shake, sobbing uncontrollably suddenly as you ride it out.

“There you go, good fucking girl. You like that don’t you? Fuck, letting me breed you like this the first time we fuck? You dirty fucking girl. Such a pretty fucking girl.” She’s babbling too, unravelled by the beauty that was you cumming the way you did. She knew she was good at fucking, but to make someone cry like that was driving her insane.

You’re floating when she pulls out, the two of you breathless and fucked out. Effortlessly, she pushes her hands under your arms and drags you further up the bed until you’re laying against the pillow and she drops down besides you, pulling you into her chest, t-shirt slightly damp with sweat. You listen to her heart thundering in her chest, and it lulls you into a sleepy and relaxed zone, pulling your thigh up over her hip with her help, her thumb stroking the crease where your ass and thigh connects.

“Did so good. The sounds you make are so pretty.” She whispers like she was trying to lull you to sleep. You shift, breath stammering in your throat and nearly choking you when your used pussy glides over her shaft— the veins and ridges catching against your clit making your hips jerk on her, unable to stop yourself from slowly and feverishly rubbing down on her as you breathe heavily in the quiet room.

“Want more, sweet girl?” She cooes, hand running down the back of your head to cup it lovingly.

“Too sore.” It comes out muffled into her t-shirt, aimlessly rocking your hips.

“That’s alright. Just keep… keep doing this.” She relaxes into the bed, kissing your forehead and letting you please yourself, grinding into the mixture of your juices and the fake cum soaking the both of your lower halves. It was messy and bordering on gross, but made your needy clit throb all the more. You were truly insatiable. Had it really been that long?

She sighed in pleasure at the feeling of you grinding against her, the position making her harness press deliciously into her own clit, pleasing you both. Perhaps she too could get off from this.

The sun had gone in, and the room had grown dark. But this time, you weren’t afraid — infact the growing inkiness of the sky was the last thing on your mind— safe, warm and dumb in Abby’s strong arms.

Maybe you’d let her stick around.

[redtsundere-writes]

Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen

mma fighter!sukuna ryomen x femalecoach!reader

Part 5. New & Old

Beginning. ← Previous | Next →

Sypnosis: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Sukuna being Sukuna. female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Warnings: Mentions and sexual harassment. Angst. Humiliation. Cursed words. Word Count: 2743 words. A/N: Hello peeps! Another day, another slay. I really enjoy writing this fic and I am really happy that you seem to like it as well. Thanks! :3 Ps. Fuck me you Joo Jaekyung

“Cheers!” We exclaimed as we clinked our beers.

We had finally returned home after a great victory in Dubai. The bar was full, the food kept coming to our long table and the mugs seemed bottomless. The entire Team Black was gathered to celebrate the crushing victory of our terrifying champion. The air was filled with laughter, pleasant chatter and popular music. Sukuna was at the head of the table, watching everyone like the king he is while wisely drinking water.

“C’mon, drink one with your coach!” I asked with a goofy smile due to the effects of alcohol. I had two mugs already, and it was starting to show.

“No. Do you know how many calories that have?” He rejected me completely.

There were few things I knew about him in the short time I have been his coach. Sukuna was grumpy, foul-mouthed and a jerk in every definition of the word, but his strongest characteristic is that he is ridiculously disciplined. He was a fucking ninja with incredible mental strength. He invited the whole team to eat burgers, wings, nachos and drown themselves in beer, while he just drank plain water and ate a veggie burrito. Sukuna was a great athlete, but he needed to learn how to relax once in a while.

“That only means that I have to maintain my title. I can't lose focus now,” he answered without paying me much attention. He surely noticed my drunkenness.

“That’s why you are always so cranky, you are always thinking of fighting and being a champion. It’s okay to enjoy life once in a while,” I tried again.

“You enjoyed too much and look where you are,” he exposed me, pounding his glass against the table to emphasize his point.

My body moved away from him at the loud bang. Everyone turned to look at us to see what it was all about, but when they saw that it was just another Sukuna tantrum, they went back to their own thing. My hand went straight to my neck. I avoided his gaze and resigned myself to continue drinking.

“You say it like it’s something bad,” I mumbled before taking a shy sip. “I refuse to become a coach,” Sukuna spat angrily.

“You couldn’t become one even if you tried.” Someone behind me defended me out of the blue.

I turned around, and my cheeks burned instantly. It was Choso. He's standing there like a guardian angel with a dark aura ready to defend me from a mean demon. He gave me a mischievous compliance smile that I couldn't help but mimic.

“It’s good to see you, bro! Sit down,” Yuuji, who was seated next to me, offered him his seat.

“Who the fuck invited you?” Sukuna frowned.

“Yuuji. He said he wanted to introduce me to someone,” Choso answered without looking away from me as he sat down.

"This guy always knows how to surprise me," I thought as I scanned him from head to toe. Seeing him up close was like paying attention to a piece of contemporary art, simple yet complicated at the same time. His long hair was down and neatly combed, his unruly curtain bangs fell perfectly to the sides of his eyes, framing them perfectly. You could tell he was Sukuna's brother by his sharp features and outlined eyebrows. I could imagine him frowning without needing to experience it.

“He is all yours. I’m drinking with Megumi,” Yuuji said, after introducing me to his brother for a second time. He went to the other side of the table to drink with his buddy, who was drinking alone.

He gave me a discreet wink that I could only see. That's when I realized what he had done. This was the "date" he had arranged for us as a favor. I hadn't been on a date in years, so I was super nervous. How could I not be? I wasn't ready. My hair was in a tight ponytail, I was wearing athletic clothes, and I was tired from jet lag. He looked so good in his denim jacket, baggy jeans and his smooth cologne that brushed my nose.

“Yuuji has told me so much about you,” I said, trying to hide my shyness.

“What a coincidence. Yuuji had also told me so much about you.” That was unexpected.

“Really? What did he tell you?” I asked, curious.

“That you are patient, nice and very cute,” he complimented me with a shy smile. “He didn’t tell me that last thing, it's just what I am seeing,” he corrected.

"He's so cute!" I thought excitedly. I could feel my poor heart in love running around in circles in my chest and my hands were starting to sweat, but I was calm. Who am I kidding? My cheeks hurt from grinning like an idiot. I felt like an awkward teenager in front of her out of her league crush.

“Is that your pickup line?” Sukuna joked.

“Shut up!” I barked, so he wouldn’t interrupt us. “Thanks, I think you are really cute as well,” I answered Choso’s flirting, paying him all of my attention. He looked a bit shocked that I was able to scold his brother so easily.

“Yuuji told me you used to fight in the UFC as well,” he said, ignoring Sukuna’s comment.

“I was the best. There are some of my fights on YouTube, my nickname is ‘Medusa’s Snake’,” I flexed proud as I poured him a beer from the bucket in the center of the wooden table, surrounded by delicious greasy snacks.

“A very poetic nickname. Did you know Medusa means protector in Greek? I think it goes well with you.”

When my first coach named me like that, I was flattered. Medusa was the mortal gorgon, one of the three daughters of the god of the sea, Forcys, and the goddess of sea monsters and the dangers of the sea, Ceto. She became the main enemy of men after suffering a painful rape by Neptune in front of the sanctuary of Minerva. Although early poets depicted her as a monster from birth, along with her immortal sisters, later writers claim that she was originally a beautiful maiden, but was turned into a monster by Athena or Minerva.

“Thanks, you are the first one who says it,” I said as my cheeks blushed. “Do you like mixed martial arts?”

“I used to practice kick boxing regularly, until someone discouraged me from continuing.” I noticed that he looked at Sukuna when he said “someone.”

I couldn't blame him. The active UFC community is pretty small. I wouldn't want to continue coexisting in the same environment as my biggest traitor. Besides, sports publicists love to compare athletes who share some sort of bond and spread drama. If Choso kept practicing to a professional level, reporters wouldn't leave him alone if they found out the champ fucked his fiancée.

The night flowed its course and the conversation continued to flourish between us. We drank, laughed and shared funny anecdotes. Choso was so nice, just like Yuuji, but shared that strong aura like Sukuna. He was the best of both worlds. Elegant, kind and respectful - what more could a girl ask for in a man?

Choso had to leave early because he had to work in the morning. He said goodbye to everyone except Sukuna, and I offered to escort him out. The vibrant street was still alive despite the darkness that ruled the skies as it was so late in the afternoon. People were still passing down the street in beautiful attire under the colorful lights of passing bars and restaurants. It had been a pleasant evening. It had been a long time since I had had so much fun.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Choso smiled friendly. His shoulders were relaxed, and his kind eyes conveyed to me that he was more comfortable than before.

“I say the same thing,” I smiled at him as well. He slipped his hands into his pants pockets and avoided my gaze out of nowhere. That comfort turned to anguish again, so my smile gradually disappeared.

“Yuuji told me you were interested in me…” he sighed. “Look, you are a great girl, but right now, I have a complicated situation with my brother, and dating his coach doesn’t sound like a good idea.” He scratched his neck embarrassed, still avoiding my sight. “So it was about that,” I thought.

“I get it. Thanks for giving me a chance at least,” I said kindly. The last thing I wanted to do was make him feel bad for rejecting me, but I wasn’t going to give up so easily. At the end of the day, I am a fighter at heart. “The truth is that I am not planning on being his coach for a long time. Seeing him holding his belt with pride on the ring, reminded me that I will be there again one day.”

I caressed my injured area with nostalgia. I missed being the star with the white lights illuminating my every dangerous move. I missed the audience yelling my name with excitement as they watched me destroy another one of my opponents. I missed the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I fought for my honor. Choso looked at me again, seeming confused by my answer but hopeful for the explanation.

“What I am trying to say is that when I become a protector again, I’ll call you,” I said with a proud smile. His eyes widened, surprised when he understood what I was trying to say.

“I’ll wait for your call then,” he smiled.

With that, he kissed my blushing cheek goodbye and drove off down the sidewalk. As I watched him get into his car, I stood a while longer by the door processing what had happened that night. "You're going to be mine," I affirmed, sure of myself.

Another day at the gym. Another day in hell. By this point the gym was my hell on earth. Dealing with the devil himself was complicated, sometimes there were good days when he would do everything I asked him to do without batting an eye and others were the fights were no longer physical, but verbal. Over the months as his coach, I had learned to deal with his heavy attitude.

“¡Ten kicks!” I ordered as I placed the cushion he was supposed to kick at the height of my stomach. “1, 2, 3…!” I counted every hard kick. I made sure to hold the cushion tightly so it wouldn’t fly away. “…7, 8, 8, 8, 8…!” I repeated with a smug face.

“Stop it!” He yelled without losing the beat.

“Don’t give up! …8, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9…!” I yelled, gripping the cushion hard. Sukuna huffed but kept kicking like the champ he is. “…9, 10!” I finished counting after 30 kicks.

“Go fuck yourself…” He sighed mad.

“For that, another 10,” I said, pulling the cushion back up.

“I missed seeing you like this.”

My heart stopped the moment I heard that voice. I could recognize it in any place, time or date. I knew exactly who it was and didn't want to turn around to confirm it, but I had to face it. The UFC world is small, so it was inevitable that we would meet again at some point, but I never thought it would be like this. Sukuna glared at the person behind me, sure he was wondering why a snoop was in his gym. I gulped dryly before confronting the biggest son of a bitch I'd ever met.

“Don’t frown like that, you will ruin your pretty face, beautiful,” he said with a pout. My jaw contracted when I heard such stupidity.

Naoya Zenin. One of the best fighters in the Zenin family, the current middleweight champion and my second coach. If I had to thank one person for teaching me how to deal with Sukuna, it would be this bastard. Because if I could survive him, I could survive anything. An arrogant, self-centered, stubborn man disguised as an angel incarnate. He was standing there with his stupid minions that followed him around like they were his ducklings.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked, mad at his bare presence. From my tone and volume, some fighters stared at the scene.

“Sukuna lets you talk like that? I think you need a muzzle, bitch,” he smirked, as if it was something normal to say.

I wanted to beat him to silence. I let go of the pad with a thud and took off my protective gloves as I approached him to jump him. I was ready to beat the fuck out of him. I didn't care if I got fired, ruined my neck, or got beat to death, I had to get that stupid grin off his face no matter what. I couldn't let him say those kinds of things to me just because.

When I was about to jump out of the ring, Sukuna grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him. He forced me to stay close to his body, so I could only see his chest. I tried to break free from his grip, but his arm wrapped perfectly around my wait. My body trembled like a Chihuahua ready to bite. I looked him in the eye, asking him to let me handle this, but he ignored me.

“Can you leave my coach out of this?” He asked, clearly annoyed.

“Yours?” Naoya laughed out loud. “She is mine since she gave me her weak ass,” he said with a wide grin full of confidence.

I closed my eyes in embarrassment as soon as he said that. I didn't want Sukuna to find out like that. I wanted to erase him from my life forever, but he always managed to infiltrate like heavy humidity. I couldn't see him, but I knew he had a relaxed posture, his sharp eyes scanning my figure up and down and critiquing my current position.

“I don’t give a shit about what kind of relationship you have, but now, she only listens to me. You better get the fuck out of my gym before I release her so she can beat your ass,” he barked in my defense.

I looked at him in surprise at that answer. His red eyes were calm but determined. He meant every word he said. If Sukuna allowed me to, I could beat him at my pleasure. I wasn't going to waste the opportunity, I would make him very proud.

“Get the fuck out?! I just arrived to introduce myself as your next opponent!” He yelled excitedly. The gym looked at him in shock at the statement, especially me. Sukuna was going to face Naoya for the belt of the light heavyweight category?! “The UFC accepted the fight today. I was so excited that I came all the way to see you! I am a big fan!”

“You already saw me, now fuck off. I won’t repeat myself,” Sukuna asked, surprisingly keeping his composure.

“At least let me say goodbye to my cute wife,” Naoya pouted.

“I am not your wife, motherfucker!” I yelled, turning around suddenly to dispute that fat lie he dropped. Sukuna held me back to not jump him.

“Awww, just like the good old days,” Naoya grinned. “That’s how it is going to be then, see you later…” he turned around to go back from where he came from with his stupid side chicks. “…maybe sooner than you think,” he winked at me before leaving.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists in frustration at not being able to say anything else to her stupid face. I pulled myself out of Sukuna's grasp. We both stood in silence while the others murmured and whispered about the strange encounter. I didn't know how to explain the situation to him, I didn't even want to, but I had to.

“I…”

“I don’t give a shit,” he said before returning my gloves that I tossed earlier. “Let’s get back to work.” I took the gloves, relieved.

“From now on, I won’t teach how to be a floor fighter,” I said as I adjusted my gloves around my fingers. “I will teach you how to kill that motherfucker,” I stated strongly. A wide grin appeared on his proud face.

“You have all my attention now.”

Next →

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[best-testing-lab-uae]

How Alcohol Testing Labs in Abu Dhabi Support Public Health Initiatives and Safety Programs

Abu Dhabi, the capital of the United Arab Emirates, is known for its commitment to public health and safety. In this vibrant and rapidly evolving city, alcohol testing labs play a pivotal role in supporting public health initiatives and safety programs. These labs are essential for maintaining high standards of health and safety, ensuring compliance with regulations, and contributing to the well-being of the community. This blog explores how alcohol testing lab in Abu Dhabi support public health initiatives and safety programs, highlighting their contributions and impact.

The Role of Alcohol Testing Labs in Public Health

Alcohol testing labs are integral to public health efforts in Abu Dhabi. They contribute to various health initiatives and safety programs by providing accurate and reliable testing services. Here’s how these labs support public health:

1. Monitoring and Preventing Alcohol Abuse

One of the key roles of alcohol testing labs is to monitor and prevent alcohol abuse. By conducting regular and random tests, these labs help identify individuals who may be struggling with alcohol addiction or abuse. Early detection allows for timely intervention and support, including:

Referrals to Treatment Programs: Labs can provide data that helps healthcare professionals refer individuals to appropriate treatment programs and support services.

Public Awareness Campaigns: Data from alcohol testing can be used to inform public health campaigns aimed at raising awareness about the risks of excessive alcohol consumption.

2. Supporting Workplace Health and Safety

Alcohol testing labs play a crucial role in maintaining workplace health and safety. In Abu Dhabi, where strict regulations govern workplace environments, these labs ensure that employees adhere to legal and safety standards. Their contributions include:

Pre-Employment and Random Testing: Regular testing helps ensure that employees are not under the influence of alcohol while on duty, reducing the risk of accidents and improving overall workplace safety.

Compliance with Regulations: Labs help businesses comply with local regulations related to alcohol consumption, ensuring that companies meet legal requirements and maintain a safe working environment.

3. Enhancing Road Safety

Road safety is a major public health concern in Abu Dhabi. Alcohol testing labs support road safety initiatives by:

Conducting Traffic Stop Tests: Labs provide testing services for traffic enforcement agencies, helping to identify drivers under the influence of alcohol and reduce the incidence of drunk driving.

Supporting Legal Proceedings: Accurate test results support legal proceedings by providing reliable evidence in cases involving alcohol-related traffic violations.

4. Contributing to Emergency Response

In emergency situations, alcohol testing labs play a critical role by providing timely and accurate test results. Their contributions include:

Accident Investigations: Labs provide test results that help investigators determine the role of alcohol in accidents and incidents, aiding in the development of effective response strategies.

Supporting Healthcare Providers: Accurate alcohol testing supports healthcare providers in diagnosing and treating patients who may have been involved in alcohol-related emergencies.

How Alcohol Testing Labs Contribute to Safety Programs

Safety programs in Abu Dhabi benefit significantly from the services provided by alcohol testing labs. These labs enhance the effectiveness of safety programs through various means:

1. Implementing Rigorous Testing Protocols

Alcohol testing labs in Abu Dhabi adhere to rigorous testing protocols to ensure accuracy and reliability. This includes:

Using Advanced Testing Technologies: Labs employ state-of-the-art technologies, such as breath analyzers, blood, and urine tests, to provide accurate results.

Regular Equipment Calibration: Ensuring that testing equipment is regularly calibrated and maintained helps maintain the accuracy of test results.

Following Strict Protocols: Labs adhere to strict protocols for sample collection, handling, and analysis to ensure the integrity of test results.

2. Engaging in Collaborative Efforts

Alcohol testing labs often collaborate with various stakeholders to enhance public health and safety. Collaborative efforts include:

Partnering with Government Agencies: Labs work closely with government agencies to support public health initiatives and safety programs, including traffic enforcement and workplace safety.

Collaborating with Healthcare Providers: Labs collaborate with healthcare providers to support treatment programs and health initiatives related to alcohol consumption.

Participating in Community Programs: Labs engage in community programs aimed at promoting responsible alcohol consumption and supporting public health efforts.

3. Providing Education and Training

Education and training are key components of effective safety programs. Alcohol testing labs contribute by:

Training Healthcare Professionals: Labs provide training for healthcare professionals on alcohol testing methods and procedures, enhancing their ability to support public health initiatives.

Educating the Public: Labs participate in public education campaigns to raise awareness about the risks of excessive alcohol consumption and the importance of responsible drinking.

4. Supporting Research and Policy Development

Alcohol testing labs contribute to research and policy development by:

Providing Data for Research: Labs provide valuable data on alcohol consumption patterns and trends, which is used for research purposes and to inform policy decisions.

Supporting Policy Development: Data from alcohol testing helps policymakers develop and implement effective regulations and safety programs aimed at reducing alcohol-related harm.

Benefits of Alcohol Testing Labs to Public Health and Safety

The benefits of alcohol testing labs to public health and safety are significant:

1. Improved Public Safety

Accurate alcohol testing helps prevent accidents, injuries, and fatalities related to alcohol consumption. By supporting road safety, workplace safety, and emergency response, these labs contribute to a safer community.

2. Enhanced Health Outcomes

Early detection of alcohol abuse and timely intervention contribute to better health outcomes for individuals. Alcohol testing labs play a crucial role in identifying individuals who may need support and treatment.

3. Greater Compliance with Regulations

By ensuring that testing methods and results comply with legal and regulatory standards, alcohol testing labs help businesses and individuals adhere to regulations and maintain a safe environment.

4. Support for Public Health Initiatives

Alcohol testing labs provide valuable data and support for public health initiatives, including education campaigns, treatment programs, and research efforts aimed at reducing alcohol-related harm.

Conclusion

Alcohol testing labs in Abu Dhabi are vital to supporting public health initiatives and safety programs. Through their commitment to accurate testing, adherence to regulatory standards, and collaboration with various stakeholders, these labs play a crucial role in enhancing public health and safety. Their contributions to monitoring alcohol consumption, supporting workplace and road safety, and providing valuable data for research and policy development underscore their importance in maintaining a healthy and safe community.

As Abu Dhabi continues to advance its public health and safety efforts, alcohol testing labs will remain integral to addressing alcohol-related challenges and supporting the well-being of its residents. Their dedication to high standards of testing and compliance helps ensure a safer, healthier, and more informed community.

[thebottlestore]

Pick up your Tequila rose strawberry for AED 98 at The Bottle Store to welcome the summer!Beat the heat with this refreshing and delicious treats that's easy to make and perfect for sharing.

[octuscle]

It’s so bitterly cold here in the Midwest USA, I wish I could be hanging with hunky guys in Dubai or something for Christmas. You think you could help me with that man?

You should have landed at Milwaukee Mitchell International Airport by now. But because of a snowstorm, you were diverted to Chicago O'Hare International Airport. This cursed journey to the holidays is getting worse by the minute. And if you drink another beer to drown your frustration, you're going to puke. But right now you need to take a piss. You find it a little difficult to get up. Firstly, because of the alcohol in your blood. On the other hand, because you've become a real heavyweight since last Christmas. A bit more exercise and less eating and drinking would also do you a lot of good…

The toilet is empty. It's amazing that so many people are stranded here so close to the holidays… And there's a sports bag by the washbasin. And it's still there when you come back from the urinals. Not a soul in sight… Could there be a bomb in there? A normal and sober person would now inform the security service. But you are definitely not sober. So you grab the bag. And in a reasonably quiet corner, you check the contents. Jackpot! Not much special. Sportswear, a white nightgown… And a wallet with quite a lot of cash, a passport from the UAE and above all: a flight ticket to SHJ. No idea what and where that is. But you have to change planes at JFK and DOH. That sounds exotic. It certainly sounds better than Kansas. Boarding starts in 20 minutes. As best you can with your beer belly, you walk towards the gate.

When you arrive at the gate, boarding is almost complete. The ground crew member asks you for your boarding pass and passport. Shit, you didn't even think about the fact that you don't look like your passport photo. The guy looks at your passport, looks at you, grins and wishes you a good flight. As you pass him, you hear him say to his colleague that you've really become a fat pig since the photo was taken. Well, that's probably your luck in this case.

You have a layover of over five hours at JFK. You heard in the in-flight program that the TWA Hotel & Fitness Center at JFK is supposed to be the largest hotel gym in the world. You really need a gym. And you have time too. So you set off. Not much sporting activity is to be expected from you. But after an hour of power walking on the treadmill and half an hour on the cross trainer, your new sports clothes from the bag you found are soaked with sweat. But you feel fit. Really fit. As you stand in front of the mirror after your shower, you run your hands over your stomach. Flat and hard. When you tense your muscles. That's how it should be. And you get rid of the rest of the fat too. It sucks with the beard. You shaved your beard for Thanksgiving. Because you were invited to a friend's parents' house. You didn't want to scare them off with your beard. But now the beard hasn't grown back the way you'd hoped. Your mother will scold you terribly.

You grab a salad and a protein shake at the bar in the gym. You want to sleep on the plane. The food on board is delicious and plentiful, but not good for your body. To make sleeping on board quicker, you put on just a tank top and jogging suit for the flight. It takes you a good twelve hours to reach Doha. You want to use this time to arrive home well-rested.

At boarding, the ground staff greet you in Arabic. Of course. As usual. It's nice to study in the USA. But you don't have to stay with the infidels in winter. You're now looking forward to the warm sun in the Gulf. The person sitting next to you is a non-believer. And obviously not familiar with Qatar Airways' in-flight catering. She has brought a large portion of chicken wings with fries from KFC on board. You almost feel sick. She offers you something. You flex your biceps and say in English with a heavy Arabic accent that you can't get these babies at KFC.

The flight was quiet, apart from the brief interruption during which you fucked the infidel chick in the airplane toilet. You'll have to do without a wet pussy for the next few weeks. Hehehe, but your cousins and your bruhs have tight asses. That works at least as well. You only have just under two hours in Doha before the last flight segment. You quickly go to the airport mosque, do your ablutions and sunset prayers, change into your spotless white dishdasha and board the plane to Sharjah. Over the next few weeks, you are the perfect son again. You will enjoy it. And as soon as the crazy holidays of the infidels are over, you'll be looking forward to fucking, drinking and partying again!

I found the last picture of you before you change to immaculate white at @alphaincar

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Fake Love Part 1/8

I think this is my best work yet. Y'all don't know what you're in for 😝

Reader is a kindergarten teacher. Nothing more nothing less. But following an accident whistle vacationing in Dubai, she somehow makes her boyfriend believe that she does somthing else for a living, something that earns her way more money than she has. Her boyfriend, Ruben, is just happy to have found someone who understands him so well, someone who doesn't want him for his money since money isn't an issue for neither reader or himself. Or so thinks. Would finding out the truth ruin their newfound relationship? Readers thinks so, and does everything to keep up the lie, although it has some bad people from the Middle East looking for her.

Enjoy!

It all began with a tragic accident. If saving a child from a fire counts as something tragic. No. The tragic part is that it happned on your first week of vacation. First week out of six, meaning you'd spend the rest of that time caring for the burn wound on your thigh. The accident happned in Dubai at the resort that you were staying. The hotel had ended a night with a magnificent firework show for all guests to partake in. However, one malfunctioning rocket sparked flames into the crowd capturing one family in their private tent. Everyone managed to escape except for a young boy. Hearing his cry, you did not hesitate to sprint through the flames, no second thought of what might have happened to you. Those worries came later.

"Mashallah. Bless you woman."

It was strange, being embraced and cared for by strangers. Turns out that the boy you saved was the nephew of a very powerful business man in the Middle East. Both the resort and family thanked you by paying for the rest of your stay, as well as all of your medical bills and any other expenses whilst you were a guest in their country. It did not end there, the family insisted on paying for your flight back home to England, business class of course. And they did not mind for you to make a longer connection in another country. They would pay for your stay there too. That's where your story begins, on a connection flight to Portugal, where you met Ruben.

"Champagne?"

You were on the plane, shifting uncomfortable in your seat, when a flight attendant came down the aisle carrying a trey with two flutes of Champagne.

"Um, we didn't order that?" You said turning to your best friend Alicia. She poked her head out from behind her seat that was more of a private booth. She shrugged, looking equally as confused at the two glasses of Champagne.

The flight attendant smiled, handing each of you a glass anyway. "It's complimentary from Mr Muhammed Siddiq." She said and disappeared with the trey down the aisle.

"Fancy." Alicia said, taking a approving sip of her drink. "So whatever you want he pays for?" She asked, talking about the arrangement that had been made by the family which child you had sacrificed your skin to save.

"Seems like it." You said, although you weren't all that comfortable having a stranger pay for your expenses. Your friend however...

"Sweet." Alicia leaned back in her seat. She pressed the button that would alert another member of the cabin crew, a man this time, dressed in a well tucked suit.

"You called Miss?"

"Yes, can we have a bottle of whatever this is?" She said, raising her glass.

"Alicia." You groaned, slightly embarrassed.

"What? You know I get nervous during long flights. Might as well order a whole bottle of alcohol."

"A bottle it is." The flight attendant nodded. He turned to you. "Anything else for you Miss?"

"Um, no. Thanks."

You waited for him to leave so that you could throw a pillow across the aisle, hitting Alicia in the head.

"Ouch. What was that for?"

"Stop ordering things that we can't afford."

"Maybe WE can't afford it, but Muhammed Siddiq certainly can."

You rolled your eyes.

"Wait until we get to Portugal." She giggled. "They said they got you covered there too, no?"

"Yes, but only for two nights. Until our connection flight back to London."

"Great, enough for us to have some fun."

"Alicia."

"What? You deserve it. Six weeks of our vacation has gone down the drain because you wanted to jump into the flames and save that kid. Now look at you, barley able to sit with all that dressing underneath your skirt."

You tugged at the hemn. Even the draft creeping down your leg was painful to your burns. Alicia noticed the discomfort in your face and leaned forward, grabbing your hand. "You are a hero Y/N. So let's make the best of these two days, you deserve it, even our sponsor Mr Siddiq think so."

You huffed a laugh.

"Now, let's google the most expensive hotels in Lisbon." Alicia pulled up her laptop. You sighed, leaning back in your seat.

"What is there to do in Portugal anyway. Isn't it just ocean and sand, along with perverts in speedos?"

"I dunno." Alicia shrugged, typing away on her computer like the Reddit bully that she was. "Maybe we could book a guided tour around the city."

"I can't walk."

"Right. Rent a car it is."

She typed away, her newfound passion amusing to you. At some point your eyes began to flicker, the last couple of days, catching up to you. Suddenly something blew past your head, grasping the top of it.

"Fuck." Alicia gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

"What?" You sat up, looking where Alicia was pointing towards. "What did you do?" You hissed, since she had that guilty expression you knew too well.

"Your pillow." She whispered. "It's over there."

Alicia's aim was apparently terrible. Your pillow had eneded up in the booth next to you. Alicia must have seen you falling a sleep, wanting to hand it to you. The words hand it to you, not occurring to her.

"Should I get it?"

"I'll do it." You sighed. You needed to stretch your legs anyway.

It was a big plane, with two floors and three seating aisles. Being a passenger of the business class forced you to circle the whole second floor to get a view of the booth next to you. It was great way to obtain once privacy, but boy was the walk painful for a first time burn victim.

"Um, excuse me?"

You were in excruciating pain arriving at the booth next to yours and it did not help that the man assigned to it was chatting away with two other guys seated across and beside him.

"Um, excuse me?"

They ignored you, however you were pretty sure that they could see you standing in the middle of their aisle.

"Excuse me?" You said, raising your voice.

The man in the booth next to yours turned his head to meet your eye, but quickly diverge his gaze back to his friends.

"Oh for fuck....I'm looking for a pillow that flew this way. Have you seen it?"

"You mean this pillow?" One of the guys said, the dark skinned one. He held up the pillow in front of him, letting you have it.

"Sorry." You muttered, visibly embarrassed. "My friend can't aim."

"You mean she has perfect aim." The guys laughed, however not the guy in the booth next to yours. He looked mad, mad at you.

"Yeah?" You said unsure.

"Yeah." They nodded. "She hit my friend Ruben here with a perfect headshot."

You turned to the guy next to your booth, the one they called Ruben. "I'm so sorry." You said and really meant it. He however, continued to treat you like thin air.

"Oh come on Dias, don't leave the girl hanging now. Show her some of that Portuguese hospitality. We're not all perverts in speedos."

You flushed as the guys erupted in laughter once more. Of course they had overheard your conversation with Alicia. And of course they were portuguese. The plane was heading to Lisbon for god sakes. Who else had found your comment utterly offensive You turned your head, expecting a old man in his fifties to ambush you, throwing his purple speedos in your face.

"Nah, we're only joking. Right Ruben?"

The guys looked to their friend, who was still looking at you, well not at you, but somewhere below you.

"What happened to your leg?" He asked. Very blunt of him, you thought.

"Now Ruben, just because a girl is wearing a short skirt doesn't mean you get to be unpolite about it. Let's not fuel her impression of us portuguese. " His friends laughter drew the attention of other passengers, making you crumble with the embarrassment.

"No, I wasn't." Ruben stuttered, for the first time looking other than sure of himself. "I wasn't I swear." He reassured you.

"I know." You nodded. "I've burned myself. It was an accident. The dressing is supposed to mend the pain." You said, although the way your legs trembled told him otherwise.

"Is everything alright here?"

It was the flight attendant from earlier. The one having served you and Alicia Champagne. She had a serious expression on her face, a professional one, as if she had just received urgent complaints from other passengers about a disturbance in row sixteen.

"Um, yes everything is okay, I was just about to..." You turned around, the pillow pressed to your chest. You took a few steps down the aisle but hesitated as there was low whipsers behind.

"....You gotta do it it. Can't you see the way she's walking, she's clearly in pain."

"Come on Ruben..."

"No buts, you can sit with her friend."

You turned around, a frown on your face. "Are you guys talking about me?"

"Um, yeah." The guy called Ruben stood. You tilted your head not having realized how tall he actually was. Nor how built he was. His frame took up the whole aisle. Even the flight attendant had to tilt to the side to be visible behind him. "We were saying that the two of you should switch seats."

"Who?" You frowned. To which Ruben threw his friend a deadly glare.

"Me." His friend sighed, gathering his things to make his seat vacant for you.

"Um, what is going on?"

"You're hurt." Ruben said, not hiding the fact that he was staring at the dressing up your thigh." Our seats are better than yours. Here you can lay dow."

It was true, they did have the better seats. Although the leg room of a business class seat was not to be ungrateful for, laying down is really what you needed to elevate your leg, easing the pain.

"Please." Ruben said, gesturing towards the booth next to his. "My friend is more than happy to switch seats with you. Right Fabio?"

His friend did his best to fix a smile, showing off his bleach white teeth. "Gladly." He gritted.

"Okay." You said, not completely sure what you were agreeing to. However the flight attendant mumbled somthing about having to inform her colleagues. Nevertheless she disspeared whilst Ruben and his friends made the necessary room for you.

"No, leave the pillow." Ruben said, snapping at his friend who was still in the process of gathering his things.

"But she has a pillow." He groaned.

"Yes, and now she has two."

Ruben's friend left his seat looking displeased with life. Wait until he was introduced to Alicia, who refused to advocate for grumpy men.

"Please, have a seat." Ruben insisted once everything was cleared. The guys even made the effort to pick up after themselves, although thier mess wouldn't really effect you.

"I'm Ruben, this is Theo."

The three of you went about shaking hands as you sat back in your seat.

"Nice to meet you Ruben..." You were terrible with names, you thought he had introduced his full name. He looked at you slightly baffled, perhaps shocked that you had already forgotten what it was."

"It's Dias." He said, not leaving you hanging.

"Dias. Ruben Dias." You nodded. "Nice to meet you my name is Y/N  Y/L/N.

He smiled in a slightly amused way. Nevertheless he let you sit back and relax. The conversation having died out. Only then, back pressed to your plane seat, did you realize that you just shook hands with the most gorgeous man you had ever seen.