♡Pairing: Older! Islam Makhachev x Younger! Reader
☆|Summary: One night stand led to many things you have to deal with now.
☆|Warnings: Islam yearns over reader,touch starved Islam, mentions of sex, age gap(consensual adults), feelings of guilt, cheating, mention of violence, angst.
Shawty's shit:Soo sorry for deleting this..The twitter shit was soo weird. Also, if you notice sentences repeting or mistakes, I've had some screenshots of this one shot and I had to copy paste every word.. This, if it wasn't obvious, was inspired by Marina's song.
If you like my work, please let me know by liking and rebloging this. Feel free to comment your opinions and request if you have ideas! Thank you🙏
PLEASE BE AWARE that my work can be too much for some people so please be mindful when reading. May contain triggering/immoral things that has nothing to do with the real person I'm writing about. Enjoy✨️
This is what young love is all about. Or at least that's what your brain is telling ya.
It should have never happend, really, it was your mistake. Young, free soul, some might say. You just wanted a night out, have some drinks with your friends because your part time job is ass and life is harder than it needs to be. You started light, some cocktails, a Mimosa, a Sex on the Beach, but step by step you went from light drinks to Jagermeister shots, tequila with lemon and salt, some straight Melon and your mind detach itself from rationality.
You saw him, recognized him, and wanted him.
He wasn't drinking or looking for anyone in particular, so why was he there? Why would a man like him be in such place? You would've asked yourself more questions, but the burning in your throat and the dizzy spin of the room pulled your eyes away from him, driven by an urgent need to find an exit. The chilly night air hit your burning hot skin in seconds and you took a moment, just to lean on the wall, hands on your knees, eyes closed.
"Ty y poryadke?"
"Does it look like I know Russian?"
You swear you can sense his smile, but you can't be sure of anything in your state.
It didn't took long for you two to end up in his hotel room. His length was impressive, and he wasn't shy about it. He fucked you like he knew you, but how would a simple waitress catch the attention of one of the biggest champions in UFC?
He made sure to use every surface in that room to fuck you just right. Laid across the table with his hand blocking your airways, jerky breathing escaping your mouth, before his fingers tangled with your tongue. On the couch, hair in his fist, stinging just enough to make you want to bend your head a little more. The floor was cold, but the thrusts of his hip made you forget all about it.
You were the one who left first, thinking it was over. You got to enjoy the company of one of the sexiest men on the planet, and now you'll live with just the memory, and that's how it should have been. He was married. 3 beautiful kids waiting for him, eager to leap into his arms and wrap their little hands around his neck after a long time away from home. But when life gave you lemons, you chose to fuck Islam Makhachev. And now you have to pay back.
It started strong, not letting you breath for a second. First, he found out where you worked, coming to the restaurant every chance he got.
The tips were always generous, and he would only ask for you, saying something about how your service is the best, as he declined every other waitress that tried to get a 250$ tip. He always tried to get your attention, and for most of the time, it worked. You pulled him outside, after he asked for the bill, demanding to know how he found out where you worked. All he did was smile, taking your wrist slowly, placing a kiss to it. You were left in shock. What does he want from you? It woken up the sleeping madness in you. He started texting you, at first, simple questions you chose to ignore but he continued. He missed you, he missed the smell of your skin, the feeling of your warm breath against his neck. He was craving something that should have never happend. The thought of your fingers trailing along his strong arms sent him into a euphoric state, like he was high on something he'd once tasted and now craved again. Your poison flowed through his veins... and you were starting to love the idea of him needing you, of him starved because of you.
It was soo much fun seeing someone soo powerful, waiting, hoping for a simple text from you. You kept tourmenting him, promising to show him heaven when actually, you were the shaytan itself, and e knew that. But you're breaking and making every rule anyway, so why would he try to save himself? His love for you was something most people will considerate obsession, but no, not him. Because everytime you make him helpless, haunt his dreams, eveytime you would take his breath, you will give it back, you would save him.
His desires are growing, as you maneuver him just as you please. You were out with your friends one time, just a casual get together after a long time of work and studying, when his Range Rover pulled next to the park. He entered it and came straight to you, not really caring about who is there, just eager to touch you. He kissed your knuckles and hugged you, as you laugh about something with your friends. You sat on his lap as his head was resting on your shoulders, like he was used to this, something he does out of habit.
He want back to Dagestan and you thought this is the perfect moment to make him suffer more. You ignored all his texts, answer his calls briefly then hang up, texting things about how his attention should be on his wife and kids, making him endure all of it as you forcefully fed him all that. He was struggling to keep up. All his desires and irrational thinking was let out by fighting. His heart was weak now, tourmanted by the thought of his wife and the ache in his heart caused by the intense imagine of you. The feeling of need was taboo, his throat burning down in search for your taste, head replaying scenes that are forever tattooed on his brain, it's chemistry forever altered.
You went out and see a boy, just a quick hook up, something that you will forget about, maybe even in a few hours. But he found out, of course, you don't know how, but he did. The first ticket was his, the very next flight, he was in. He came to your apartment, banging on your door soo hard that a few of your neigbhours went outside to check what the hell was going on. When you finally opened that damn door, he went on, saying something like he sculpted himself for you, that he sacrificed eveything just to have you, that you have the upper hand with every and each one of your words, that even when he is the one who suffers, he feels like it's easier to lose himself, than to lose you. Your connected with his chest in rapidly, repeatedly movements, saying that you never agreed to this, that this is all his fault and that you have your own life. This randez-vous of yours broke you apart.
He sighs and catches your fists, stepping closer, leaning down to rest his forhead agains your shoulder, making you stop your every move, almost forgeting how to breath.
You would lie if you say that this bitchy attitude of your is on point. It's not. You tried to keep everything under control, make him lose his mind. But It's hard, his behaviour reached hights you couldn't imagine, it's something yiu can't control, even if you wanted. But that's your fault, you started this.
So what happens when the person meant to be in control, has none left?
☆|Summary: One night stand led to many things you have to deal with now.
☆|Warnings: Islam yearns over reader, touch starved Islam, mentions of sex, age gap(consensual adults), descriptions of kissing, feelings of guilt, cheating.
Shawty's shit: I love pathetic yearning, also, in my head, Islam is a man who yearns and I love that. At this point, I'm soo sorry for Islam's wife but it made the yearning in the fic more passionate.
If you like my work, please let me know by liking and rebloging this. Feel free to comment your opinions and request if you have ideas! Thank you🙏
•PLEASE BE AWARE that my work can be too much for some people so please be mindful when reading. May contain triggering/immoral things that has nothing to do with the real person I'm writing about. Enjoy
Sneak peek😛 I don't know if I should continue this or not so I'm waiting for your opinions
☆|Summary: Toxicity filled up your brain soo much that you don't need oxygen anymore, so you let your secret take all the reigns.
☆|Warnings: SMUTish, forbidden/hidden relationship, obsessive behavior, age gap(consensual adults), older and toxic Khabib, reader is a female, reader smokes(Act surprised, 3, 2, 1, go), reader has a fixation on Khabib, manhandling, unhealthy relationship, reader is a little bit of a bimbo, mentions of drinking, reader being drunk. Description of reader touching herself. Reader meets Khabib while she was in highschool but nothing really happens, if you feel uncomfortable skip "I knew it was wrong, I’m beyond it"
Shawty's shit: I hope you will like the way I wrote this one shot, it's something I will continue doing maybe..Like a series with songs from Lana. Please let me know if you like the idea. Maybe I'll do a part 2 for this one.It's unedited btw, sorry for my mistakes..
If you like my work, please let me know by liking and rebloging this. Feel free to comment your opinions and request if you have ideas! Thank you🙏
•PLEASE BE AWARE that my work can be too much for some people so please be mindful when reading. May contain triggering/immoral things that has nothing to do with the real person I'm writing about. Enjoy🚬
"Bad to the bone, sick as a dog"
You swore not to end up in this situation again. Your friend told you many times that you've changed a lot, maybe in behavior, maybe is your looks? You don't really know and you don't really care. She tends to say this a lot anyway, she could never understand you, your situation, your way of thinking.
Drinking was something you did for fun, the feeling of the liquid burning your insides, quickly followed by the sourness of the lemon made you feel alive, made you feel like you have one more chance at whatever you thought you lost couple hours ago. Now it's more like an escape, because you don't have the luxury to go out that much anymore. Your every move it's being watched, and you can feel it.
So when you decided to go out without telling him, you knew you've signed your contract to Hell. That's how you ended up in the passenger seat of a Mercedes AMG GT S, lip trembling as you try to make up the words that are leaving his mouth. Your head is dizzy and you feel like you could show him everything you ate that day, in just two seconds.
But maybe is the fact that he's next to you, or maybe it's because you don't wanna embarrass yourself in front of the man you fuck every 2 days? Nonetheless, your body chose to cooperate with you and kept everything to yourself. And while you have the biggest fight with yourself, Khabib has a fight, also with you.
"You can not be that stupid, drink until you can't answer me properly"
And he's soo mean about it too. You don't even know how the hell you ended up in his car, but it's okay.. He hasn't said anything about how you dressed up yet.
"I knew it was wrong, I’m beyond it"
Smoking is a habit you started since young. It's something you can now hardly let go of.
You've always hated yourself for doing it, knowing it doesn't really help much with anything that's going on in your life, but it's something that brought a meaning to it.
Khabib.
Late Wednesday, 6 years ago.
Back then, your biggest problem was figuring out how to get cigarettes. But since you were still in high school, every shop around knew every student by face. And after your mother stormed into the store and warned the kind woman who always sold you cigarettes that "she'd call the police if she ever caught her selling them to her daughter again", you had no chance of buying anything there anymore.
While wandering back and forth with your classmate, you saw a man leaning against his luxurious car, talking on the phone, and a bright ass light bulb lit every corner of your head like a square sun.
"Excuse me, do you have a cigarette?"
He glances down at you, still on the phone, and offers a small smile before turning his attention back to his conversation. It leaves you oddly dissatisfied and frustrated. He could've at least said no, like, hello? But just as you were about to lose your last bit of hope and go find someone else, you instinctively take a step back as he pushes himself away from the car he'd been comfortably leaning against.
"Aren't you too young, kid?", he ends the call.
You gave him a proper once-over this time, openly appreciating the broad shoulders, the well-kept beard, and the sunglasses dangling from the collar of his shirt. The second he noticed what you were doing, a smug little smile crept onto his face.
"Can't you just say yes or no?"
A few moments later, the pack is yours. Bought just for you. The kind you haven't seen in weeks. Lately, you've been surviving on half-smoked cigarettes whenever you could get your hands on some, and on good days, you're lucky if you can scrounge that half. Your classmate stares at the pack as if it's the most precious thing in the world. You catch the subtle twitch of her hand, almost reaching for it. But you had other plans.
"You want one?", you say, leaning the pack towards the stranger who saved your life, and you swear you heard your classmate taking your mother for something really intimate.
"I do not smoke, kid"
"So no lighter?"
Gotcha, that was good, girl.
As the cigarette was resting in between your lips, he searched himself in his pockets, taking out a lighter and his finger made slightly contact with your lips. You look up at him, and you feel like the world is moving ten times slower, cuz you can sense how your blood is running through your poisoned veins and if you concentrate a little more, you could even hear it.
He lights your cigarette, then puts it back in his pocket. Right then, you came back to your senses and gave the pack of cigarettes to your classmate.
"Can I have your number?"
The corner of his mouth tilted upwards at your sentence, sign that he kind of liked what you just said, but he chose to ignore that feeling.
"Maybe when you grow up a little more"
Well, that's not a rejection, you don't really know how to take it. You were at the age where "doing something for the plot" was a daily task, and you can't quite take no for an answer, so you decide to push your luck just a little bit more.
"I'm y/n."
He smirks, and you can hear how a low breath escape his mouth, like he was trying to mock you. He is an arrogant man, definitely, but he is also handsome as fuck.
Just as your fried pulled your shirt, meaning it's most likely time to go back, he fully looks at you, still smiling.
"Khabib."
"You know that I like, like you a lot"
You kept your obsession for Khabib secret and you decided to keep him a secret too.
Late night drives, careful written messages, frustration that started to tensw your every msucle in your body, cuz you were soo done with this, you wanted him just like the way you've dreamt about.
Sometimes, when you are alone and lay in your comfy bed, and you're soo fucking done with him, waiting for his reply for hours just to get half of your question answered, your hand slides down the hem of your tee. Slow and steady, your hands rise slowly and your hot skin meets the night air that makes you close your eyes and fist the material in your hand. The other one toys and tease your nipple, but you were used to this.
No, not with his touch, you were depraved from that. You were used with the teasing.
The way his hand found you thigh, sometimes just resting, like a habit he came to have. He would grip the flesh, but it was a feeling you loved, and the only touch closer to what you actually wanted, but your rather have that than nothing.
Whenever you tried to make him touch you, he would always stop just before doing it, and it made you crave him even more. You kissed him once, you were soo disperate, you needed to get anything from him.
And for the first time, you realized he wanted it too. The moment he kissed you back, everything changed. One hand gripped your hair, tightly enough to sting, as if some part of him was desperately trying to pull away, trying to fight whatever had finally woke in him. But his other hand betrayed him entirely. It rested against your waist with an almost painful firmness, and the warmth of his touch and the strength in his grip was making you lose any sense of decency.
He needed to keep you near, but he stops, completely. He pushes you towards the wall and you lose balance, sliding down from it while he wipes his mouth, letting out a low, breathy "tsk", before leaving and gosthing you for a couple of weeks.
And you touch yourself to such memory, cuz that's all you have, it's the reason you crave his touch, his attention soo much. Cuz he gives soo little when you know how much he has to offer, but then again, you chose to be fine with just a little sugar at the tip of your tongue.
You come over thoughts like that, fingers coated in filthy stickiness that you wish one day it will be all over his, making a mess.
"A fire in his eyes, know, I saw it"
The day you confessed to Khabib was your 21th birthday.
Contradictory of your mother's objections, you chose to spend such an important day with him, cuz he was the most important person in your life.
You were soo afraid to tell him exactly how you feel, fear creeping at the corners at the thought of him taking the little attention he gave. So when you finally confessed to him, you didn't really know what to expect.
You had an argument, like an hour ago. It was the dress you chose to wear.
It was simple, black dress with a slit down your leg, nothing too fancy, but you wanted to feel special for your birthday. You took your sweet time to get ready, you chose to wear that Tom Ford, Tabacco Vanilla. It was his favorite scent on you. It was the parfume he always bought for you, along with the Lost Cherry and Black Orchid.
You wished for your night to be amazing, finally, after not seeing him for almost 2 months, you have the best excuse to spend all day in his presence. But it was not how you expected it to be.. at least not all of it.
It started with the compliments. A picture you posted on insta, and the loads of comments you've got, complimenting your looks and wishing you a happy birthday.Just from this small incident, Khabib's state of mind started to decline little by little.
The thing that followed was a waiter looking a little too much at you, even daring to tell you that you're looking amazing. You smiled politely, mentioning that tonight was your birthday and he noded slowly, leaving with your orders. Needless to say, Khabib was already pissed off, and that little encounter was the cherry on top. All the way to the car and during the drive, he told you many, many things. About your choice of dressing, how only sluts and easy whores would have their eyes sparkle at the littlest admiration they get.
Oh and how much you wanted to tell him all the things you felt, not one negative. You wanted to take a rock off your chest, to let him know how you feel about him, how much love is gathering in your heart, overflowing all 4 rooms except you couldn't, cuz the only thing overflowing now are your eyes, full of unshed tears.
And when you finally arrived outside your apartment buildings, you just shut the car door and walk towards the entrance.
Lucky you. Your hand is pulled and your whole body is now handled by what you came to your knowladge to be Khabib's strong arms. He then begs for your forgivness, leanind down to stand on his knees before you, hands gripping your waist, head resting on your stomach. He sweetly tells you how he was wrong, how his words earlier meant nothing and he was just angry that your youth and beauty give people whiplash.
He goes on with it, telling how it's all his fault, and that's how you end up leaning, and holding for dear life, onto the small dresser in the small corridor, right next to the door.
He was balls deep inside you, hitting your cervix just right and you feel those annoying tears coming back. This is not how you imagined your first time with him to be, you wished for more, you know he's capable of it.
Nonetheless, you're glad is finally happening. His hands are on you, rougher than you expected but in a better way, you love how they feel on you, and before he rearranged your insides, his fingers made contact with your warmth, playing with your clit, making it all puffy and red before he sucked onto it and letting out that shot sweetness he was waiting for.
He was starved in all way possible. He was touching you, expressing things in soo many ways than one, making you belive he was thinking about this, waiting for it, wanting this just as much as you did, maybe even more.
The dress is hanging from your waist, tits aggressively dangling, almost to a point where it hurts, but Khabib got it, and his hand came upwards to squeeze one of them. He then tangles his arm over them, making you rise back and lean on his chest, preventing your tits from moving too much.
Your consciousness was long gone, that you didn't even realize you've lost air, his hand blocking any little escape to oxygen. You manage to slightly tap his hand, before it gives out, as he took all the control and handled you.
It was soo good, his cologne hitting your nostrils, his strong arms all over you, the sharp and quick breaths.. You can call this Heaven.
"He tells me to Shut Up, I've got this."
Khabib took care of you in every way possible. He made sure you had everything you needed and beyond.
So when you told him you've got this job, he looked confused?
"But why? I not offer a lot?"
Of course he did. You just wanted something to feel like you again. It's not that you didn't like the life Khabib gives you, you just felt like something is missing from it, nothing felt like you anymore and at the same time, everything did.
You liked to work there. You were a cashier at a kids playground, sometimes needing to be their playmate, making up games and run around with them. Nothing could go wrong.
You loved children, even tho some yelled from to top of their little lungs, or cry until their legs gave out, they were soo straight forward and they felt everything times 100.
So when a little girl cries because she was missing her father(He'd left 5 minutes ago), you stayed to comfort her, making her smile again. When she regained her smile back, she told you about her father, and how much of a superhero he is.One time, she got soup all over the table, and it was very, very close to spill some over her clothes, but her daddy quickly raised her in his arms and saved the day. What a good daddy he is.
Just as you were about to hear the 5th story about this superhero, he appeard around the corner, looking at the playground, searching for his lovely daughter. When he saw her in your arms, he hurried towards you, panic written all over his face. After reassuring him, you found out his name was Ruman, and he was a single dad.
You liked his presence, he was a warm person and very well behaved, if you could say that. He had his words and sweet talk, but when he offered you a job as a nanny, you quickly declined. Not because of the salary, no, he paid good. But because Khabib would never accept that, and hearing he is a single father too, would make a simple situation turn into a bad argument.
Turns out that Ruman couldn't take no for an answer, so he gave you his information car, saying that if you ever change your mind, call him anytime.
You went home, not thinking much about it, leaving the cardboard piece somewhere in your bag, forgetting all about it.. until the next day. Ruman kept showing up to the playground, at least 3 times a week, clearly seeking conversation and most important, seeking you. He asked you out for coffee, which you also politely decline but the next day, he brought you a beautiful red rose.
You told him that you have a boyfriend, and that you can't accept the rose, and he should stop asking out, cuz it's starting to feel uncomfortable.
He apologized, but insisted on you keeping the flower, cuz his daughter chose it.
And to be fair, not the situation exactly was making you uncomfortable. He wasn't pushy or a dubious man, the actual thing that was making you uncomfortable was the thought of what Khabib would think..How he would react if he found out about it.
So when you were making out on the couch and he saw the rose, the next day you quit your job without complaining.
He was right, how could you even accept the rose after all he did for you? That man wanted to fuck you and you made him space to think he could get it. It was all your fault that, after what happend, Khabib ignored all your messages and missed calls.
He had every right to chose your clothes by now, cuz he knows better. This way, he has the upper hand, not letting a slut like you have too much attention, you don't know what to do with it anyway. Do you really want another man?
And yes, he talked with your friend, not threatening her like she said. She's just soo crazy. He wants to always know your whereabouts because he wanted to keep you safe, he wanted to make sure all your friends knew that.
He just told your close friend to keep her mouth shut and stop trying to dismiss the words he told you because, come on now, can't you see that she's jealous of you? All that looks, all the chances she took to told you to leave him, all the arguments you two have, were all because she's a bad friend to you.
He wants only good people around you, even if that means nobody, cuz nobody would met his standarts.
☆|Summary: His sister is tutoring you for biology, but she's mean about it and Shara doesn't really like that. Sticky notes will save you from hell.
☆|Warnings: NONE! Mention/description of sex at the final but nothing crazy, reader is younger but finishing 12th grade in this so she's not a minor anymore.
Shawty's shit: When I got the request to write about Shara, all I could think of is how playful and energetic was when Nina filmed with him, so there you go. Maybe later on I will write a heavy smut with him.
If you like my work, please let me know by liking and rebloging this. Feel free to comment your opinions and request if you have ideas! Thank you.
•PLEASE BE AWARE that my work can be too much for some people so please be mindful when reading. May contain triggering/immoral things that has nothing to do with the real person I'm writing about. Enjoy📚
CBF: Cleavage and Blastocyst Formation
Biology is the hell of a teenage girl, and it's more of a hell when your highschool is shoving it down your throat. Yea, it would have been cool, only if this annoying class was something you would pursue in the future, but no, you're going to be a journalist.
Your head could literally explode any minute, any second, if you hear one more time about those fucking neurons that you are completly sure are missing from your brain. Oh, at least you know their placement
"Not even a tarot lady can save you.." she sighs, correcting your paper work with a sharp red.
Safia is one of the best in your class. Academically, she's soo good in everything, math, history, physics, geography and all she wants to be is.. a teacher. She doesn't really know what kind of teacher, cuz she's good at everything, but she want to be a teacher. What a waste of dreams..
If you had her intelligence, you would have been something more complicated, like doctor or lawyer. Not that to be a teacher is bad, is just that you have to deal with, uh, kids like you and the salary isn't that good neither.
But nothing is going to make Safia change her mind(A little questionable, because she's losing patience with you quite easily, but that might be just your fault). Instead, everything in this world can make you go back in time and choose another highschool who doesn't require biology as your final.You're not stupid either, but studying for subjects you hate, is making you question your presence on Earth.
A hand ruffles your head easily, then is removed as fast as it was present. Shara Magomedov, Safia's older brother, one of the hottest man you've ever met. He is a Muay Thai champion and he does it since he was a kid. You and your friends went to some of his fights, with the privilege of being Safia's experiment. She sweard that if she can make you learn biology, she can make everyone learn it.
Back to this attractive young man, he was just a few years older than you. You told your best friend he will be the man you'll marry, but of course she laughed in your face and told you to put your shit together. Maybe she was right.
You look up to see him entering the kitchen, followed by Safia's annoyed sentence.
"Stop distracting her attention, she's already soo done." She says and she sighs, one hand going straight to her temple, like a sharp pain just hit her head like a bullet.
"You're too hard on her, a teacher should have patience." He shouts calmly from the kitchen as the fridge door opens.
"It's all on her, I'm doing my best."
"She does her best too."
What a day. Most of these lessons with Safia are going either smoothly, either soo bad you end up crying and stressing about finals and how you are actually soo done. Cooked even.
This night was the same, you came home, gone straight to your room, throwing your backpack somewhere as you slide down the door, hands going through your hair repeatedly, trying not to cry again. You're soo scared that tomorrow you will have the worst headache in the world, as always, that you force yourself not to cry, even tho your lip is trembling soo hard and nails are digging deep in your hand's flesh.
You don't wanna be a pain in the ass, hell, you don't wanna be a pain for yourself neither, but biology is eating your youth day by day.
After what felt like an hour, you got up to search your backpack for something, and as your hand went through your things..something stick to your hand. You raise your hand, slightly confused and you see a sticky note stuck on the back of your hand.
"Don't give up!" and a lollipop which happend to be your favorite flavor too.
You thought that, maybe Safia is feeling generous and she wants your sainity close to 100%, but she's not that kind of person, not after today also. You brushed it off and unwrap your reward, laying in bed and enjoying it's taste.You always eat? Lick? Enjoy. You always enjoy raspberry&cream lollipop when you go study, maybe to concentrate more, or maybe just because.
Next time when you went to the tutoring lessons, Safia went up to her room to gather some of her books, while you went to the kitchen to drink a glass of water. Shara came to you, asking about your day, your friends. He is mostly chatty, but never with you. You've always been considerated the extrovert one, and in the eyes of super conservative and religious babushkas it's a crime, you are a demon slut who needs to be out of their sight.
Shara was always the smart boy, the respectful one. Not quiet by any means, but he knew his place. And after he started his career, people saw hin even more as a role model for the little boys. It would have been a shame for him to be near you, but since 2 weeks ago, he started greeting you, ruffling your hair at a nearby store while the babushkas are shaking their heads, clicking their teeth, or what have remaind of them.
Your guess is that he was always oblivious to your "status", it was just that you two didn't have a reason to greet each other, but now, with the tutoring, you seem to smile more and more when you need to go out or to the store.
As you go back to the living room, on your laptop was another sticky note, this one was reading as followed: "Please smile more, your Kinesin Proteins are working hard for your smile."
You smile, what a feeling.. You turn around to ask Shara about it, but he was leaning against the wall, smiling briefly, then he left without saying anything. Before you could even stop him, Safia came downstairs.
"Aren't you going to help me?"
You shake your head slightly and run towards her to carry some of the books and notebooks from her hands.
This went on for a month. You finding sticky notes everywhere near you. Once you found one in your shoes. And you kept all of them. Your headboard is full of them, so that, you considerate sticking them on the wall, or on your dressing's door.
And it would have kept going if, one time, it was very late and Safia decided that she doesn't care you have a test tomorrow, so she put you to work, again and again, like a machine. You've felt like crying. And she was mean about it too. Asking how could you bee soo dumb, that CBF were the easiest ones. And yes, they might be easy for her, not for you, and she should understand that. You were soo done with this, so irritated, yes, thankful, cuz she accepted to do this without money, but you were consumed by everything. Academic pressure is something she will never experience, and for you, was close to going mad. Every tear you dropped because of your grades, everytime you've looked in the mirror, thinking how one can just not understand simple, basic things, everytime you didn't sleep nor eat, just to learn that before development can begin, the body must produce gametes through meiosis only..oh and how many times you've almost fainted because you were soo tired. The constant hair loss that made you mad everytime.
You look at her, and tears start to run down your face, on the ungraded papers in front of you. You're weary, so that your heart beat started to increase and you were unable to move, hands trembling soo hard and vision blurry and you swear your hearing is gone, all you could feel was the vibrating feeling coming from you chest, probably caused by your sobs. You didn't even realize when Shara came and shook you a little, then she want towards his sister, probably asking what happend, or maybe he was yelling at her? You couldn't make it up.
Finally, you stand up and went home. The next day, you haven't gone to highschool.Even tho that test was important for your final grade, you know that if you went, you wouldn't concentrate at all, so you decided to stay home, hoping you could take the test another day.
You were laying in bed while your mother kept begging you to come eat something. And you did, mostly because you didn't want to unsettle her, or to explain what happend back at the tutoring lessons.
Safia wasn't a bad intended woman, not at all, not even stuck up. It's just that, she was expecting too much from everyone, thinking if for her something is easy, for everybody is. And it's understandable, her brother always had her back, her family's financial situation was very good and all she needed to do was learn, everything else was cared by someone else. She wasn't very snotty because she didn't care about someone's family situation or how they are dressed, but she will always be trust found baby, playing like a side character.
The next time your mother knocked on your door, you yelled that you've already ate a while ago, but nothing followed that.
"Mom?"
Oh no, did you upset her? That's the least you want right now. You run towards the door and open it, having high hopes that your mother was still there but when you open the door, there's nothing.
Nothing but a sticky note, flying down towards the carpet like a feather who was dropped. Did your mother took one of your notes from your headboard? You lean down to pick it up and your pupils dilated.
"Fancy a lollipop? 17:30, come to Yakov's store."
YES, oh God YES, this is your ticked to HAPPINESS! Of course you proceeded to get ready at a leisurely pace, just to make sure you look fine, without looking too fine. After all, you were going at the local store to get a lollipop.
You've arrived early, waiting for..wait, for who exactly were you waiting? It passed already 10 minutes and you start to think that this might be a cruel joke on you, and all of this sticky notes tension was just in your head. Ugh you're soo done. People already saw you, a little too good looking just for a run at the store and you turn around, feeling defeated by faith.
"They didn't have raspberry cream, so I hope cherry will do it."
Oh, that voice make your butterflies turn into dragons inside you and you legs feeling like your mom's spaghetti, overcooked.
You turn around and smile. Finally, something good is happening for you too, no more bad jokes or hair pulling sessions in your life.
"Cherry is fine, tho I prefferd sour apple."
The night went smoothly. You loved to spend time with Shara, he is amazing, you can't get bored with him. Of course, he was soo energetic, showing you his double bullet move, that he is soo proud about. You came to an understanding that he loves to kick you. You've got hit on your legs and two times on your face, not hard, just enough to make you unsteady and for once, you've even failed the connection between your thinking and legs, coming down to start a friendship with the ground. A lot of babushkas looked at you two, some talking, some stuck in a stare of awe or something, might be just shock, and the many, many people greeting him. But somehow, sometime, his hand tangled with yours and you both laugh about it, but none broke the bound.
He stopped you when near your house, looking down at you, his face so serious, making you worry a little bit. He asked for your forgivness upon his sister, telling you that he feels remorse of what happend and he hopes you might forgive her. He apologised on her behalf, saying that Safia is ashamed to even come near you, saying she failed as a teacher and that melted your heart. Because you have the ability to understand, to think about the other too, so you made sure that Shara knows you forgave his sister, and that you're grateful he came by just to tell you that.
He raised an eyebrow at you, slightly confused, like the reason of this outside time spent together wasn't just beacuse of his sister's imagine. He doesn't say much, just leans down and kiss you, and that's when you felt everything and nothing at the same time. No hearing, no seeing, no breathing, but this time, you feel your lower stomach burning hot, cheeks red and all you could do his hook your arms around his neck.
Shara came to be your first in everything, and you family loved him. His mom was all about you, it was like she has a second daughter, and she got her favorite child. His father, even tho he was firm, he came through and you've felt his warmth, just like a cold dad comforts his daughter.
Your first time with him came to be just like a girl dreams of it. He was soft handed, patient, even tho he has soo much strength, he preferred to make you feel safe, wanted, loved.
He kissed you soo gently, making you feel overwhelmed and hasty, fidgety, craving his touch more and more. He lowered himself between your legs, letting his tongue play with your folds, taking his time so you could feel all of it.
The pain of his length inside you was dimmed by the feeling of loved, the feeling of being seen and cared for. He went slow but steady, kissing along your collar bones while his fingers were teasing your poor clit who was already overstimulated, but it felt soo good.
He laid beside you, spooning you from behind, kissing your shoulder blade as you were talking about something he had no interest in. He was soo concentrate on loving you, hugging you, that the feeling of skin on skin and sweat didn't seem to bother him at all. You suggest a shower and he laughs, saying he had all the time in the world for that, he just wants to be close to you.
"Oh, btw, how did you know what my favorite lollipop flavor was?"
