#mmacommunity

Brothers best friend 🍒🧸

࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆ Story Warning / Author's Note ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆

before you dive in, a few quick notes:

- contains smut and spicy moments.

- includes adult themes, tension, and emotional intensity.

- features consensual intimacy, nothing dark or harmful.

-сестра = sister.

-маленький = little one.

-милый = darling.

Khabib Nurmagomedov X reader 🐻

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I hadn’t even stepped out of the taxi when I realized coming home after my first year at university had been a mistake, or maybe a test. Moscow had changed me. And Dagestan noticed.

My clothes were different. My posture was different. My confidence was different, the kind that came from living alone, figuring things out, being seen as an adult instead of ‘Alibek’s little sister.’

But the second I saw the familiar stone houses clinging to the mountain roads, i felt that old tug in my chest, nostalgia mixed with the sharp pinch of the past.

“сестра”

Alibek stormed out the front gate and scooped me up in a rib-crushing hug.

“Look at you! Moscow thinks it can polish you, huh?”

I rolled my eyes and smiled.

“I’ve been gone for one year, not ten.”

“One year too long.”

He grabbed my bags.

“Come inside. Everyone’s here. Even—”

His pause was small, but I heard it.

“Even who?”

I asked, though I clearly already knew.

“Khabib.”

Alibek muttered, my heartbeat stuttered. I hadn’t seen Khabib in almost two years. I had a crush on him practically my whole life, the kind that kept me awake as a teenager, imagining moments that never came. He was Alibek’s best friend, four years older, already training, already fighting, already treated like a man while I was still… well, the kid sister.

Back then, he barely saw me.

And when he did, it was with a half-patient, half-distracted smile that made me want to scream into my pillow at night.

But I’m not fifteen anymore. I’m nineteen.

And Moscow had carved the girl out of me and left someone sharper, bolder, harder to ignore.

The front door opened, and I froze. Khabib stepped out into the evening light. He looked…Different. Dangerously so.

Broader shoulders.

Harder jawline.

A deeper shadow of stubble.

And a way of carrying himself that said he knew exactly how strong he was. His eyes swept over me for only a second, but it was enough for heat to coil low in my stomach.

“маленький”

he said.

My breath caught.

“Hi…”

I muttered softly, sounding meeker than I intended. Khabib didn’t give me the old distracted smile. He looked at me like he was trying to figure something out, or trying not to.

“You came back… different.”

he said finally.

“So did you.”

I shot back before i could stop myself, Alibek shoved between us with my luggage.

“Okay, okay, stop staring at each other like you’re about to spar. Inside.”

But once i walked past Khabib, i felt it, the weight of his gaze tracing the curve of my back, lingering like a hand.

My cheeks flushed.

Oh.

He noticed.

Later That Night

The house had quieted. Relatives gone, dishes cleaned, Alibek asleep. And I escaped onto the small stone terrace overlooking the mountain valley, letting the cool night air settle the heat bubbling inside of me.

Footsteps approached.

Slow. Heavy. Intentional.

Khabib.

He leaned a shoulder against the wall, arms crossed. Moonlight cut along the muscles of his forearms.

“So…”

he said, low and calm.

“Moscow changed you.”

I looked up at him and raised a brow.

“For the better or worse?”

His eyes traveled over me, not hurried, not shy, but the kind of look a man gives when he’s debating whether he should be looking at all.

“Depends who you ask.”

He murdered, my pulse jumped and I felt my cheeks becoming slightly flushed.

“And if I asked you?”

Khabib huffed a breath, not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.

“You don’t look like a kid anymore.”

“I’m not.”

I said quietly.

“I know.”

He replied even quieter, something in his voice made my stomach twist. He stepped closer, just enough to brush the edge of my personal space.

“I’ll be honest…”

He said.

“When you were younger, I… didn’t let myself see certain things.”

“Because I was a child.”

I said bluntly.

“Yes.”

His jaw flexed.

“But you’re not anymore.”

The air tightened between us. I swallowed, heat creeping up my neck.

“You never noticed me.”

I said before i could hold it back, Khabib’s eyes sharpened.

“That’s not true.”

I sigh and scratch the side of my neck instinctively.

“It felt like it.”

He exhaled slowly, the sound almost frustrated.

“You were Alibek’s little sister. What was I supposed to do?”

His voice dropped

“I wasn’t blind, маленький. I just wasn’t stupid.”

My breath caught. That admission. Soft but heavy.

“How about now?”

I whispered.

“Are you still trying not to see me?”

Khabib didn’t answer, he didn’t have to, the look he gave me was so hungry i felt it in my knees. He stepped even closer, close enough that i could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“Moscow did change you.”

He said.

“But I think the problem is… I changed too.”

My voice was barely a breath.

“And what’s the problem?”

Khabib leaned in, his lips inches from my ear.

“That I’m noticing you now…”

He murmured.

“More than I should.”

My pulse raced.

“And you don’t want to?”

I whispered, his jaw brushed my cheek as he spoke.

“I didn’t say that.”

I shuddered, he pulled back just enough to meet my eyes.

“Tell me to walk away.”

He said.

“If you don’t, I won’t.”

I didn’t say a word, I didn’t step back either. Khabib let out a low exhale, something dark and relieved slipping into his expression. He raised his hand, fingers brushing my jaw, light enough to make my breath shake.

“You’re not the girl who left.”

He murmured.

“You know that, right?”

“I do.”

I admit softly, he’s right.

“And I’m not the man who pretended not to want you.”

My chest tightened.

“Khabib…”

The door inside creaked.

A floorboard groaned.

Khabib’s hand dropped instantly, he muttered something sharp in Avar under his breath.

“Your brother.”

He growled softly.

“is going to kill me one day.”

I forced a shaky breath.

“We should go inside.”

“Yeah.”

He stepped back, though his eyes stayed locked on me.

“But this isn’t finished.”

I turned toward the door, but he caught my wrist for a brief moment, his touch warm, possessive in a way that sent heat straight through me.

“маленький”

He said softly.

“Don’t pretend you don’t feel this. Not anymore.”

I didn’t answer.

Because he already knew.

As i slipped inside, i heard him whisper behind me, low and rough.

“I’ve wanted you since before I should have. And now I don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Later on

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, blanket twisted around my legs. Sleep wasn’t happening. Not with the way Khabib had looked at me outside. Not with the sound of his voice still echoing inside my head. Not with the memory of his hand on my jaw replaying over and over like my mind refused to let me forget.

I pressed my palms to my face.

“God…”

I whispered into the darkness.

Why had he said those things? Why did he have to make it sound like he’d been holding himself back for years? Why did my whole body feel too hot, too restless, too aware?

A floorboard creaked somewhere down the hallway.

I sat up.

Maybe it was him.

Maybe he couldn’t sleep either.

My heartbeat jumped hard enough to hurt. Before i could second-guess myself, i climbed out of bed, slipped on a loose shirt, and padded barefoot into the hallway. The old wooden floors were cold, but the heat inside me drowned it out.

Khabib’s door was at the very end.

The house was silent.

Everyone asleep.

My pulse loud in her ears.

I walked down the hallway slowly, every step a question I wasn’t sure i wanted to answer. When i reached his door, I didn’t knock. I just stood there, breathing, trying to convince myself to walk away.

My hand lifted, hesitated, hovered inches from the wood—

—when the door swung open.

I gasped.

Khabib stood in the doorway, expression flustered, shirtless except for the pair of sweatpants sitting low on his hips. He froze when he saw me, but not in surprise.

In recognition.

He looked at me like he’d been expecting me. Like he’d been waiting. His voice came out low, rough, almost a growl.

“маленький, I was just coming to you.”

My breath caught.

“You were?…”

“Yes.”

He stepped closer, closing the last inch between us.

“I couldn’t sleep either.”

The hallway felt too small for the way he was looking at me. I swallowed hard.

“Khabib… I-“

Before i could finish, he leaned down slightly, his forehead almost touching mine. He wasn’t touching me, but i felt his heat everywhere.

“Did you come here to stop me?”

He asked quietly.

“No…”

I whispered.

His jaw clenched.

“Good.”

He reached past me, still not touching my skin, and pushed his door open wider.

“Come inside.”

I stepped in, the moment the door closed behind us, the air changed.

Thickened.

Darkened.

Khabib exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding his breath for hours.

“маленький”

He said again, that same way he’d said it earlier, low and hungry.

“I’m done pretending.”

He took a step toward me.

I stepped back.

Not to escape, to pull him with me.

He followed, and when my back hit the wall, his hand braced beside my head.

Still not touching me.

But close enough for his breath to ghost over my lips.

“You have any idea…”

He muttered,

“what you’re doing to me right now?”

My voice trembled as i answered him.

“Probably the same thing you’re doing to me.”

He let out a quiet, harsh laugh, relief and desire tangled.

“I tried to stay away. I swear I did.”

“But I don’t want you to.”

I whispered.

Something in him snapped.

Not anger, restraint.

His hand cupped my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek, heat searing my skin everywhere he touched.

“милый”

The name was half a warning, half a plea. I looked up at him, eyes wide, breath shaking.

“I’m not a little girl anymore.”

He leaned in slowly, unbearably slowly, his lips a breath from mine.

“I know.”

He whispered.

“That’s why I can’t stay away from you anymore.”

My fingers reached down, curling in the fabric of his sweatpants at his hip without thinking, pulling him closer. His breath hitched.

“милый”

He murmured, voice deep and wrecked.

“If you don’t want this, tell me now.”

I didn’t speak, I just rose onto my toes and pressed my forehead against his.

It was enough.

He closed his eyes,

let out a sharp breath,

and finally, finally…

His hands slid to my waist.

Our lips met.

The kiss was everything we’d held back for years. Hungry, heated, desperate in the best way. His fingers tightened on my hips, my hands slid up his chest, he pulled me against him with a low sound that made my knees weaken. His mouth moved against mine like he’d wanted this for longer than he ever admitted. My body responded like it had been waiting.

The kiss deepened, grew hotter, messier, breathless. I barely remembered how we moved, only that suddenly he was guiding me backward, his lips still on mine, hands sliding up the sides of my waist…

We reached the edge of his bed.

He broke the kiss just long enough to look at me, really look at me, his chest rising and falling, eyes dark with everything he’d been holding back.

“You sure?”

He asked, voice raw.

I nodded, pulling him back to her with both hands.

Khabib’s restraint finally shattered.

He lifted me by the waist, my breath catching, his mouth finding mine again as he lowered me gently onto the mattress, following me down, heat and shadow wrapping around us.

His big hands roamed along my body, tracing every curve through the thin fabric of my clothing, his calloused palms sending shivers racing across my skin. He pressed his lips to my jaw, nipping lightly before trailing hot kisses down my neck, his breath ragged as he gripped the hem of my oversized shirt and tugged it upward. The fabric whipped over my head, leaving me exposed in the dim light, and he sucked in a harsh breath when his eyes locked on my bare breasts and the simple panties clinging to my hips.

"Khabib, please..."

I whimpered softly, my voice trembling with need, which drew a faint, knowing smile to his lips. He tossed the shirt aside, his gaze darkening as it swept over me.

"Patience, милый. Let me savor this."

His words were a low rumble, tender but laced with that unyielding command that made my pulse quicken. Without breaking eye contact, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties and eased them down my thighs, inch by inch, the cool air kissing my newly bared skin. They pooled at my ankles, and I instinctively tried to close my legs, heat flooding my cheeks as I sought to shield my slick folds from his intense stare. But Khabib's strong hands caught my knees gently yet firmly, holding them apart with just enough pressure to remind me who was in control. His thumbs brushed the sensitive inner skin of my thighs, teasing closer to my core without quite touching.

"No hiding, милый. Beautiful. So beautiful like this…wet and open for me."

His voice dropped to a husky murmur, eyes devouring the sight of my exposed pussy, already glistening with arousal. I bit my lip, a soft gasp escaping as his fingers trailed upward, finally grazing my slick lips, parting them slightly to expose my clit to his gaze. The vulnerability made my heart pound, but the way he looked at me, like I was his most prized possession melted away the last of my shyness, leaving only aching want.

His eyes locked on mine as he brought his middle finger to his mouth, licking it slow and deliberate before letting it trail down to my dripping pussy. He spread my arousal around my swollen lips, coating his skin in my slickness, then pressed the tip against my entrance, testing my readiness with a gentle dip inside.

I whimpered, biting my lip hard as heat flooded me, and he read the plea in my eyes. Slowly, he pushed his thick finger deeper, stretching my walls with that unhurried invasion. I rolled my hips instinctively, gasping at the sudden fullness, which pulled a soft smile from him. His free hand clamped gently on my hip, holding me steady against the bed.

"Stay still for me, милый,"

He murmured, keeping that torturously slow rhythm, sliding in and out, his finger dragging along my inner walls until I was a writhing mess, my breaths coming in desperate pants. Only then did he add a second finger, slipping it into my sopping wet cunt alongside the first, the stretch making me arch off the sheets. He curled them just right, hooking against that hidden spot deep inside that sent sparks exploding through my core.

"Mmm... you like that? I can feel your pussy clenching around me."

He wasn't wrong, arousal leaked from me in a steady stream, soaking his entire hand, turning my thighs into a sticky mess, and leaving a damp spot on the sheets beneath us. I gasped breathlessly as he pumped those fingers repeatedly, nailing that delicious ridge over and over, building me toward the edge. I teetered there, body taut on the tightrope of release, when he suddenly pulled out.

My eyes snapped open, a desperate whimper escaping as l grabbed his wrist.

"No, no... Khabib, please..."

I begged, voice cracking with need, not caring how pathetic it sounded. He just smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my forehead before bringing his glistening fingers to his lips.

He sucked them clean, tasting me with a low hum of approval.

"Shhh, милый... I'm giving you something better."

His voice was a gravelly promise as he pulled back, fingers deftly undoing the drawstring of his shorts. He shoved them down, standing before me in nothing but black boxers, the fabric strained by the massive bulge of his cock straining to break free. I reached out, trembling fingers tugging at the waistband. He clasped his hands behind his back, letting me take control for the moment, his breath hitching as l eased the boxers lower. When his cock sprang free, my breath caught in my throat. Fuck. He was huge, thick and veined, curving slightly upward, the tip already flushed and leaking precum in heavy beads. He bit his lip at my wide eyed stare, the sight making him twitch and harden even more, as if my reaction fueled him. I wrapped my hand around his length, giving it a tentative stroke from base to tip, feeling the heat pulse under my palm. He hissed sharply, hips bucking forward into my grip.

"Fuck, get on your back. Now."

The command meant no argument, his tone rough with barely restrained hunger. I scrambled to obey, lying flat on the bed and parting my legs just a bit. He tutted, shaking his head as he gripped my thighs, forcing them wide, ankles nearly at the edges of the mattress. I gasped, glancing down to see my pussy splayed open, folds glistening and vulnerable under his gaze.

He stepped between my legs, fisting his heavy cock and slapping it down against my slit, the wet smack echoing as he coated himself in my juices. I moaned at the teasing pressure, the heat of him against my clit drawing a groan from deep in his chest. Lining up, he pressed his thick tip to my entrance and gave a few shallow thrusts, just the head breaching me, stretching my hole as he watched my face twist in pleasure and pain.

"I can take it, Khabib... please, all of it."

I whined, and that was all he needed. With a grunt, he drove forward, burying his cock to the hilt in one smooth, relentless push. I nearly screamed, head thrown back as the burn of his girth split me open, filling me so completely it bordered on overwhelming. He clapped a hand over my mouth, muffling the cry.

"Quiet, милый. We're not alone, don't want anyone hearing how good I make you feel."

His words barely registered through the haze, he felt too fucking good, every inch throbbing inside my clenching walls. He set a brutal pace, thrusting deep and hard, my slick coating his shaft with obscene squelches. I felt him everywhere, bulging in my stomach, pounding against my depths as he bottomed out, balls slapping my ass. He stilled suddenly, grinding his hips in slow circles, his pubic bone rubbing firm against my clit while his tip nudged my g-spot. My eyes rolled back, drool slipping from my lips at the overwhelming pressure coiling low in my belly.

"Yeah, give it to me, squeeze that tight pussy around my cock."

He demanded, voice strained as he kept grinding, the friction building that delicious churn in my core. I babbled nonsense, hips pushing up to meet him on pure instinct, chasing the peak. He watched me unravel, biting his lip, and then it hit, the coil snapped, ecstasy crashing through me in waves. My body convulsed, pussy gushing around him in a flood of release, soaking us both as I shook beneath him. With a deep, guttural groan, he followed, slamming deep one last time and flooding my cunt with hot spurts of cum, his weight collapsing onto me. I wrapped my arms around his broad back, holding him close, our sweat slicked skin sticking together. After a beat, he nuzzled my shoulder, pressing lazy kisses there, the warmth of the moment wrapping around us like a blanket. I sighed, eyes fluttering shut in utter bliss.

"I think I love you.”

He whispered, so soft it might've been just for himself.

A smile curved my lips as I let darkness pull me under.

“I think I love you too."

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