Fix it For You
Igor x fem!reader
You meet Igor at a bar and he somehow worms his way into your heart by being your personal handyman.
word count: 10k
This is in collaboration with the talented, brilliant, amazing, show stopping @the-witty-pen-name! Love you, Cole!
cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) oral (both m and f receiving) mention of grief and loss of a loved one
The bar is nothing but busy when Igor enters it. He was hoping a small place like this would be quiet but it’s fucking loud that he can barely even hear himself think. He’s about to just leave when he sees you behind the bar, a bright smile on your face as you serve drinks. He thinks he can stay for a minute.
He shrugs off his jacket and sets it on a still before sitting down. You turn towards him and your face lights up as you make eye contact with him, almost as if you’re old friends. He’s trying his best to hide his pink cheeks, hoping that you can’t see them.
He catches your eye immediately and you think you might actually flirt with him for real and not just to get tips. He’s cute, unlike most of the guys you see around. He seems shy and you’re not sure that he feels comfortable here considering his constant looking around the place.
You stare at him for longer than you should, taking in all of his features, wondering if already slipping him your phone number is too much since he’s just entered the door. You finish up with your customer then head over to where he’s sitting, already starting on your closing side work so you’re guaranteed to get out of there at a decent time.
“What can I get you, handsome?” You ask and as you wipe down a glass and all of the English words he’s learned for this very situation have disappeared from his head. Trying to save himself, he picks up the little menu to the left of him and points at one of the beer names he recognizes and you nod, turning your back and fetching it for him.
A guy sits to the left of him and in unison, they light up some cigarettes which you are quick to notice, whipping around and setting the beer in front of Igor before breaking the bad news.
“Sorry guys, you can’t smoke in here,” you tell them and Igor mumbles a quick “sorry” before stubbing it out onto the bar before grabbing a napkin and sweeping the ash into it and discarding it into the trash.
“Says who?” The guy asks and Igor has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He will never understand why people always want to put up a fight.
“Me,” you point to yourself then the giant “no smoking” sign above your head, that in Igor’s defense, he couldn’t read since he’s still learning to read in English. He can understand it just fine but reading and writing and speaking it are just so difficult for him no matter how hard he tries with all of the different apps.
“And all of the signs all over the place.”
“Well,” the guy’s about to speak but Igor nudges his shoulder and motions with his hands to tell him to cut it out.
“Fucking bitch,” he mutters under his breath and that’s the final straw for Igor. Before he can stop himself, he pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and tosses it into the floor, stubbing it out. He then throws a hard punch directly at the guy’s nose, making you and everyone else in the place gasp.
Once he feels like the guy’s gotten the message, he grabs him by the hair and forces him to look you in the eye.
“Apologize,” he commands and the guy mutters the words “I’m sorry” to you before Igor drags him over to the door and throws him out onto the sidewalk.
He then makes his way back over to the bar and sits back down on his stool as there are scattered claps for him and his cheeks are bright red now even though he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol. He hates having attention on him, but seeing the way you’re looking at him, it all seems to be worth it.
It looks like he just did that whole thing on a whim, but what most people don’t know is that this is his job. He’s so used to throwing people around for a living that even off the clock, he feels like it’s his job to dispose of the people who are causing problems even though he’s not getting paid for it.
He takes a sip from his beer and you set a plate with a burger and fries in front of him to which he looks at you with a questioning look.
“It’s on the house,” you tell him. “Along with anything else you’d like. For being my hero and all.”
“Oh-“ He wouldn’t want to take advantage of your kindness, but he just feels so lonely all the time so he’s going to take what he can get. He of course has his grandmother, but his job just makes him feel so isolated because he always only gets seen as the muscle, told what to do and when to do it and no one really makes small talk with him like they do with the others. Most days, he just feels like he only has himself.
And being from another country that doesn’t speak English doesn’t help either. He’s been learning but it’s been a struggle for him, the app he uses for his lessons being his only company most days. He’s been trying to speak with his new words, but they sound weird, heavy on his tongue like he’s trying too hard so he just doesn’t say anything. People have made fun of him multiple times because of his accent so he just doesn’t want to even try anymore.
“No one’s ever done anything like that for me before so you deserve it.” He doesn’t want to believe that but the sad look in your eyes is leading him to believe that you’re telling the truth and that breaks his heart.
“Thank you,” he nods, then takes a bite out of the burger which somehow has everything he likes on it.
“It’s y/n,” you tell him as he smiles as he continues to chew. Once he swallows, he takes a sip of his beer then sits there, trying to repeat it like you said it.
“Y/n,” he repeats and even though it sounds foreign on his tongue, he has to admit that he likes it a lot. So he says it again. “Y/n.”
“Yep, just like that. What’s your name?” You ask, leaning down on the bar and you’re surprised when he maintains eye contact, not even trying to sneak a peek at your cleavage.
“Igor,” he replies, his accent thick as he introduces himself.
“Igor,” you repeat and he hates the way he melts at hearing you say it. It sounds so much better coming from your mouth. “I like that. Where are you from?”
“Armenia,” he replies before taking a sip from his beer and you nod. You begin to wipe down glasses and he’s becoming disappointed that this might be the end of your journey together. He just likes your company. You’re easy to talk to and you don’t get onto him about being a man of a few words. You go at his pace like no one else seems to want to do and he really appreciates that.
“I’ve never been there,” you reply and that makes sense to him. It’s a country that most people don’t even think about. “But I’ve always wanted to.” His face lights up at your words and he doesn’t even care if he looks silly. It’s like you’re saying all the right things to make him feel like he finally has a friend.
“My mom is actually Armenian. Was,” You correct yourself. “She was. Sorry, she passed away last year and this is all still new to me. We were supposed to go this fall. I still have my ticket, but I’m too afraid to go by myself. Sorry,” you shake your head, suddenly realizing who you’re talking to. “This isn’t your problem.”
You’re now wiping down the counter and he’s trying his best to scarf down his meal so he can get out of your hair as he holds up his plate so you can wipe down right there. You laugh at him holding his plate under his chin as he eats but he just hates when people overstay their welcome, especially at establishments like this. He should be going to bed anyway since he’s got an early morning.
But instead of going home like he planned, he sits there at the bar, watching you close up because you insist on having the company and who is he to say no? You’re just so persuasive-not that he would need much convincing to hang out with you. Even in just the few hours that he’s spent with you, it’s like all of the screaming in his head has stopped. It’s now filled with your laugh and the jokes you’ve made throughout the night.
You’ve been scared to get close to people since your mom died and you know that you just met Igor, but there’s something about him that makes you feel safe, appreciated. Even though he doesn’t speak much, you just love that he listens and only adds input when necessary. A lot of men you’ve come across, especially when working, seem to love the sound of their own voices, so everything about Igor is refreshing to you.
The bar is clean and everyone is gone besides the two of you. You make sure that everything is good to go for whoever is opening and Igor is still there when you come from the back with your purse and jacket. He gets off his stool and holds his hands out, gesturing to your coat. He holds it open for you and you try not to let your heart melt at the sweet gesture. Once he’s got his on, he makes sure that you’re in front of you, making sure to open the door for once the two of you exit the bar. He stands close to you as you lock up, constantly looking over his shoulder because he knows that the freaks always come out at night.
Once you’re settled, you drop the keys into your purse and head down the street, Igor following closely behind, still on high alert in case he needs to take action. If he didn’t feel like he was overstepping, he would wrap his arm around you for extra protection. He wants to so badly, but he settles for walking behind you since it’s easier to block if someone tries to come from that direction.
You seem to be feeling the same way because before he can even register what’s happening, you’re grabbing his arm and wrapping your own around it like it’s something you’ve done thousands of times. Igor goes stiff at the sudden action but he doesn’t dare stop you. Something about it just feels so right having you hold onto him as you yap away.
And you don’t even seem to bat an eye that he’s walking you home even though he didn’t ask. You can defend yourself if need be with your pepper spray or stun gun, but there’s something about a man being protective of you that makes you feel special. Especially since Igor barely even knows you. In fact, he doesn't even know you at all.
But maybe you want him to. Maybe you want to invite him inside where you can share a joint and have a glass of wine while you watch something on the tv. You don’t think you can take any more than that but that actually sounds nice.
You used to spend so much time with your mom that it still feels weird doing things by yourself even though the idea of letting anyone else in is terrifying. After she passed, you cut off everyone who mattered to you unintentionally and now it feels weird even possibly letting someone else into your little bubble.
You have to remind yourself that this is just one night. You don’t have to fully let Igor in if you don’t want to and you’re sure that he would be okay with whatever you wanted. You don’t have to make any big decisions right now so you don’t know what you’re so worried about.
When you finally get out of your head and turn to him, he’s smoking a cigarette, taking a long drag before holding it out to you. You take it from him, your fingers brushing as you do so and he tries his best not to stare at your mouth as you put it between your lips. He does his best to not think about what it might be like to kiss you.
He doesn’t even know what’s going on here, but he’ll stay as long as you’re willing to keep him around. All his life, all Igor has wanted was to be wanted. He’s always a last resort, the person people hang around when the person they want isn’t available. But you picked him when there were so many men in the bar you could have gone home with. For the first time in his life, he’s feeling wanted.
You hand the cigarette back with a polite “thank you” before pulling him along as a gust of wind comes your way. And without even a second thought, he turns you to face him, puts his cigarette between his lips and zips up your jacket for you. It’s your turn to stare at his lips now, wanting to know what they’d feel like against yours. You wonder if he’d be sweet or if he’ll push you against the brick wall behind you.
“Oh,” you say, the sweet gesture catching you off guard. “Thank you, Igor.” Hearing his name fall from your lips again, laced with so much sweetness is making his heart grow even more. You’re smiling up at him as you take hold of his arm again and he doesn’t know how he’s going to leave you after walking you home. Maybe he’ll just have to come back to the bar again after tonight.
“You’re-” he says and even though you know what he’s trying to say, you don’t try to finish his sentence, letting him get there on his own. You can only imagine how hard it would be to learn English of all languages. “Welcome?” He asks and your smile widens, almost as if you’re proud of him.
“Right,” you nod as you pull him down the street. He has no idea where you’re taking him and he’s afraid that he’d follow you anywhere. Even if you were to lure him to his death, he’d still follow you because there’s something about you that’s alluring.
He follows you a few more blocks, now holding your hand as you pull him along and he feels disappointed when you stop at what he assumes is your apartment building. He’s waiting for you to let go, but you’re staring at him with that pretty smile as you swing your linked hands back and forth. God, he could do this for hours.
You’re stalling now, not wanting to go inside, contemplating inviting him to come with you, but you don’t know what the protocol is here. This has never happened to you before. You normally know exactly what’s going on when you’re spending time with a man, but you can’t get a read on Igor. You know that he’s into you, or at least likes spending time with you because he willingly walked you home from the bar, but other than that, you’re not entirely sure what’s going through his head.
He holds the door open for you, his other hand still holding yours as he does so and you nod your head towards the lobby as you head inside.
“You can come in if you want.” He nods once then follows you towards the stairs, the elevators having signs on them that say that they’re out of order. You let out a sigh and roll your eyes. They’ve been like that since you moved in three years ago.
He follows you up the stairs as you tell him all about the building which you know because you have way too much time during the day to google things like that. He’s fascinated by all of your knowledge, not bored in the slightest as he nods along even though you’re in front of him and can’t see what he’s doing.
“I know a lot of fun facts. What about you?” You ask and he wracks his brain. “Anything you find interesting?” You he wants to say but decides against it even though he wants to know everything about you. He wants to know your favorite color, what side of the bed you sleep on, how you take your coffee in the morning.
This is all so new to him. He’s never felt the way before, especially not about a stranger and it’s making him feel crazy for wanting to be close to you, to want to talk to you all night. Maybe if he plays his card right, he might get your phone number or maybe even a kiss if he’s really lucky.
“No,” he replies as you open the door to your floor, holding it open for him this time and he thanks you as he steps through it.
“What interests you?” You ask, suddenly feeling guilty for only talking about yourself but little do you know is that he doesn’t mind one bit. He thinks he’s quite boring in comparison. All he likes to do is sit with his grandmother while the two of them crochet while watching television.
“Crochet,” he replies, his cheeks heating because he knows it’s not a manly thing to do but you smile at him again and he swears he’s going to faint right there.
“I love that,” you reply as you unlock your door. “You should make me something sometime.” He knows you don’t really mean it but you have no idea that he will do whatever you fucking ask.
“I can do that,” he nods, already examining your apartment when he steps inside to see what kind of things you like. He’s too shy to actually ask, so he’s just going to do what he does best and observe.
You’re trying not to fall for him, you really are, but how can you not when he tells you that he crochets and zips up your jacket and walks you home? He’s the perfect gentleman, the kind you only read about in books and he’s here, right in front of you and for whatever reason, you’ve convinced yourself that you can’t have him.
He’s just going to be a friend. He has to be because all men do is hurt you and you really can’t have that happen again. Keeping him at arm's length just makes sense for right now.
As soon as the door is closed, he helps you take off your jacket and you hang both yours and his on the rack before turning to him.
“I really have to go to the bathroom, but please, feel free to make yourself at home.” You gesture towards the living room then disappear down the hallway, leaving Igor alone for the first time since you met him.
He can’t help but notice your apartment feels like you. It’s hard to explain but your essence is everywhere in this space. Even while you’re away in the other room, he still feels surrounded by you. It’s so full of life.
It could be all of the fucking plants that seem to be living on every space. Your bookshelves, your tables, on top of your cabinets…it seems like they’re invading every nook and cranny. He admires it, knowing how much effort and care must go into keeping them alive and thriving like you’ve done. He grew up helping his grandmother garden so he can understand how much work it can be. He smiles to himself, thinking how telling it is that you have so many things you have cared for that just surround him.
The buzzing in his head is coming back as soon as you leave and he looks around for something to distract him. He sees a package of lightbulbs on the island and when he looks up, he realizes that the buzzing isn’t in his head, but the lightbulb above the island that won’t stop blinking. He doesn’t know why it hasn’t been changed because it’s only been a few seconds and he’s already about to go crazy.
He sits on the island and takes one of the bulbs from the package and quickly switches it out with the one that’s almost out, discarding it in the trash can that’s on the side of the island just as you’re coming out of the bathroom.
You can’t help but gasp as you immediately notice that the flickering and stupid buzzing has stopped and resist the urge to throw yourself into Igor’s arms and pepper his face in kisses. You had spent months trying to get that bulb unscrewed but it just wouldn’t budge. And you’re fucking super wouldn’t send someone to fix it so you’d been stuck with that stupid light for ages.
“Oh my god, did you just change the bulb?” You ask and he steps back, afraid that he’s offended you but when you smile at him yet again, he has to let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t fuck up this time.
Before he can register what’s happening, you’re standing on your toes and pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek. It feels warm when you pull away so he’s sure that he’s blushing, turning away to make sure that you don’t see it.
“You’re cute,” you tell him as you pinch his cheek and if he didn’t think so before, now he’s really thinking that you and his grandmother would get along so well. He’s convinced that she’d love you. He’s never brought a woman home now and then she’d start asking about marriage and great grandchildren and that would definitely be far too much for you, he’s sure of it.
“Cute?” He asks with a scoff. He’s only heard that word to describe animals and small children, not grown adults. It’s weird, he has to admit, but he’ll take any compliment you’re willing to give him.
“Adorable,” you pinch his cheeks again, loving how you can make this scary looking man weak in the knees.
“I think that’s you,” he says and you can’t help but smile again. You’ve been doing that so much tonight that your cheeks hurt more than normal.
“No,” he shakes his head, leaning closer so that your faces are only inches apart. “It’s not a competition but if it was, you would win.”
“Igor,” you gasp, followed by a giggle. “Who knew you were such a flirt.”
“I should go,” he says and you pout. You now don’t know what you’re going to do without him. “I can give you my phone number.” Your face lights up as you fish your phone out of your back pocket and pass it to him. He quickly types his number in then hands it back to you before heading towards the door reluctantly as he grabs his jacket.
He really hopes you call soon because as he’s heading down the hallway and to the stairs, he already misses you. This has never happened to him before and this is why he doesn’t get attached because it just complicates everything, especially his job. But he can’t help but be aware of the magnetic pull between the two of you and for whatever reason, he doesn’t want to stop it.
You close and lock the door once he’s gone and decide that you should head to bed. As you do so, can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have him on the other side of the bed, cuddling you to his chest as his fingers run through your hair, murmuring sweet nothings to you as you fall asleep.
_
As you wake up to go to work a few days later, you notice that the cabinet in your bathroom that the mirror is attached to is screwed up. It’s hanging off one of the hinges, looking like it’s seconds from falling to the floor. You know your super won’t send anyone out to fix it (He never actually does his fucking job.) so you have to take matters into your own hands and figure out what the fuck to do. Part of you wants to call Igor, but you feel like you’d be bothering him and he also has a job so you don’t want to interrupt his day.
You go back and forth in your head, and you let your finger hover over his contact as you try to decide what to do. Screw it. You think to yourself. The worst thing is that he will say no. So you press the call button before you chicken out, and your heart is in your stomach as the phone rings and rings. Voicemail.
“Hey- um, it’s me. Uh, (Y/N)… we met a couple days ago at the bar, you walked me home and saved me from the horrific buzzing lightbulb in my apartment?” You chuckle nervously, you can feel yourself rambling but you can’t help it. It’s compulsive. “Listen, I hate to ask this of you, but I don’t have anyone else to ask- my super actually fucking sucks. My bathroom cabinet is like one step away from just giving out so if you’re around- I can pay you. If you don’t mind! Just let me know! No worries either way!”
He’s so thankful he’s wearing air pods. Igor would never hear the end of it if the guys in the car with him could hear him listening to the same voicemail over and over again. He can’t let himself get swept up in the giddiness he feels that you finally called. He needs to be on. No one can be intimidating if they’re blushing- especially him. He just hates that he needs to wait until after this job to call you, he hates that he can’t just drop everything he’s doing and head straight there.
It’s a few hours later when he finally calls, and you feel like your stomach does a flip when you see his name pop up. You answer maybe a little too quickly but you’re too anxious to talk to him again you can’t find it in you to care.
“Hey,” you say brightly, maybe coming off a little strong.
“Hey, sorry. I just got your message.” Lie. “I was working. I can come over now if you‘ll be home?” He asks, trying to sound nonchalant. He hates talking on the phone but he could do this with you for hours. He instantly feels calm around you, no longer feeling the stress of his job that’s always on his shoulders when he’s speaking to you.
“Yeah,” you nod, even though he can’t see you. “I’ll be home all day so just whenever.”
“I’ll be on my way in a minute.” He doesn’t tell you how fast he plans on driving fast to get to you quicker. He has to see what you need and maybe he’s just desperate to see you again since he hasn’t stopped thinking about you since the other night.
“Oh, thank you so much, Igor. I really appreciate it!” You hang up before he can say “you’re welcome” and he gets into his car to head to you.
He’s there in a flash, knocking on your door as he stands there, out of breath. You pull the door open and he stares at you, a small smile playing on his lips as he gives an awkward wave.
You’ve never had someone drop what they were doing to come meet you so you’re caught off guard by how quickly he showed up. He’s standing there with his little tool box and you’re wondering how you’re already falling for him after only seeing him twice. This never happens and now you’re wondering if fate has anything to do with it as opposed to your apartment just being shitty.
You’re going to choose to believe that it’s fate even if your apartment is that shitty. Because this is the first time since your mother passed that you’ve felt like you can trust someone. You feel safe with Igor despite having only seen him once before now. Something about it just feels so right and now you want to take a leap and dive head first into whatever this is.
“It’s straight through here,” you lead him to the bathroom and he sets his tool box down, following you to assess the situation, but as soon as you both enter the small space, the mirror gives and falls to the floor, the glass shattering into a million pieces.
Igor is quick to grab hold of you and pull you back, tucking your head into his chest with his hand while his other holds onto your waist in a protective manner. You’re both breathing heavily, still holding onto each other even after the loud crash.
This is the closest you’ve ever been and there’s just something about it that just feels right. You feel safe, protected. And this is unlike how you’ve felt with any other man.
Igor feels the same way, loving holding you in his arms. In this moment, he feels like nothing can hurt you because he’s got you. It feels so intimate and he’s not sure when the last time he held someone like this was. Something about it just feels so right and now he’s not sure he wants to let go.
You stay like that for a little longer until he finally pulls away, making sure that you’re almost before he asks where your broom is, sweeping up the mess without a word. He’s so thoughtful and you keep wondering how no one has snatched him up but you’re secretly grateful because now you have him all to yourself. Your own personal handyman.
_
It’s to a point where Igor is at your apartment more often than not and now you’ve given him a key to the place so he doesn’t have to knock every time. It might just be a key but it means so much more to the both of you. That this might be becoming more than just a friendship.
You’ve cuddled on your couch after he’s finished up your tasks for him more times than either of you can count. You order dinner for the both of you and you talk over your meals, laughing about things on the tv. You’re not even official yet but you both know that there’s something there. Maybe if either of you could get it together, you’d get the guts to actually ask.
-
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The sound of your kitchen sink was driving you absolutely insane. It has been days, and you did your best up until now to ignore it. It was becoming unbearable. It was all you could hear and you swear it was becoming louder with every passing day. You couldn’t take it anymore.
I’m so sorry to ask another favor. My landlord will not send someone out to fix my faucet and it’s driving me crazy. Do you know what to do to fix it?
Igor couldn’t help the way he was smiling to himself when he read your text. He couldn’t help but feel practically giddy at the idea that you need his help- that you need him. It was an indescribable feeling that bubbled up and made his entire body feel overwhelmingly warm. He’d fix everything, solve all your problems- anything you asked. He liked being the one you turned to.
I can come by today
Whenever you can! Don’t worry about it- no rush.
He chuckles to himself, as if he wouldn’t drop whatever he was doing to help you when you call. He appreciates how sincere you are, not wanting to take advantage of his kindness. He wishes you’d realize how much he wants you to take advantage of him. He wants to help you, he wants to do anything to just make you happy. If fixing a leak, a light bulb, a loose hinge… if that made you smile, he’d gladly do it no questions asked. He’s at your apartment within the hour and you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are.
“Hi,” he says simply, and you can hear that he sounds a little breathless. Did he run up the stairs? You can’t help but feel a little flustered at the idea as you step aside to let him in.
“Hi,” you say back, grinning.
“I brought the stuff,” he says matter of factly, holding up his tool box.
“I really appreciate this, honestly,” you say, leading him over to the kitchen- directly to the offensively loud kitchen sink. “You’re a lifesaver.” Your praise makes his heart swell, and he does his best to look the other way so you don’t see him blush.
He takes a moment to just observe as he puts his tools down on the counter. You noticed that about him- how incredibly thoughtful he is with everything. He doesn’t ever rush- except when he threw that guy out at the bar. But even then, everything was just so concise. You don’t think you’ve ever met someone like him. You have to physically shake your head to expel the thoughts before you let yourself get so wrapped up in watching him.
“This shouldn’t be difficult,” he muses. “I have it handled, just do whatever you need to do.”
He opens the cabinet doors under your kitchen sink so he can look at the pipes, and he sees the source of the problem. You watch as he lays on his back and sticks his head into the cabinet to get a closer look at the pipes, shining a flashlight in the right spot. You don’t want to hover, or annoy him with a million questions so you decide to just follow his advice and continue on with your day.
You look down at your appearance as you walk out of the kitchen into your bedroom. You were still in the clothes you slept in and your hair was one or two days past your normal wash day. You hadn’t thought about that and now you’re a little embarrassed he’s seen you like this but you rationalize that he didn’t notice or even care.
Peeking out into the kitchen again, Igor’s head is still buried under the sink as he tinkered away so you decide you can probably sneak into the shower without him noticing. You escape back into your bedroom and peel off your clothes, tossing them haphazardly into your hamper. You pull on your robe, which is suddenly feeling so much shorter than it usually does.
You tie the belt of your robe securely around your waist and use one hand to keep the top closed snugly across your chest. You poke your head out to see if he’s still working. Thankfully, he is so you tip toe across the hallway. But of course, your apartment is ancient so the floor creaks loudly as you forget to avoid that one spot on the floor. You wince, hoping he didn’t hear it, pausing for a moment. You hold your breath, even though you aren’t sure why.
The unexpected sound makes him jump, and he curses in Russian when he hits his head on the pipe. You rush over to him as he clutches his head and kneel beside him to get a look at his wound. His skin is red when you pull his hand away, but he’s not even thinking about that. He’s distracted by your robe and what’s underneath it, scolding himself for the impure thoughts, but he can’t help it. What would happen if he just reached up and-
“Igor?” You ask and his eyes snap up to your face, hoping that you didn’t catch him staring at the top part of your robe that opened just a bit. He couldn’t see anything, but god does he want to. “I’m gonna get you some ice, okay?” You ask and he totally doesn’t get a glimpse up your robe when you stand up and head to the freezer to grab an ice pack.
“Here,” you tell him as you rest the ice pack that you’ve wrapped in a towel on to his forehead. He doesn’t even need it now but he appreciates the gesture.
“Thank you,” he says, as he moves so he can lie back onto the floor but he notices something soft underneath his head. You got him a pillow. You’re so sweet and he has no idea what he did to deserve this treatment but there’s no way he’s going to deny it. “I’m fine, really.”
“Right, because a concussed man wouldn’t feel fine enough to look up my robe.” You say it as a joke, but his cheeks are burning, his eyes widening as he realizes that he’s been caught.
“It’s okay,” you tell him as you kneel beside him again. “I don’t mind. In fact, you can look all you want.” You’re being so flirty and he can’t believe this is happening. It’s something he only thought was possible in his dreams.
You lean closer, your face only inches from his. So close that he could just lean in and-
“Can I try something?” You ask in a whisper and he nods enthusiastically. Whatever it is, he’s down. He watches you get up on your knees and in a flash, you’re sitting on his face.
You sit there for a second then panic when he doesn’t do anything, wondering if you read the situation wrong. If you completely fucked up the whole thing you had going on. You go to get off him, but in an instant, he grabs hold of your thighs and pulls you back down, causing a gasp to fall from your lips.
Just when you’re about to ask what’s going on, you feel him spread your legs, his tongue gliding over your cunt as you lean forward, pressing your hands against the hardwood because you know that your legs already feel like jello.
You let out a moan as his tongue moves down to your slit, licking and sucking before introducing his teeth, eating you out like he’s a man starved. This is exactly what the both of you needed and you can’t believe it took so long to get there.
You’re hitting your fist against the floor as he continues, not even caring if you get a noise complaint from your neighbors because it just feels so good.
His hand reaches up and unties your robe before he gently rolls you onto your back, pulling away as he pushes your robe open to get a good look at you. He mutters something in Russian that you’ve heard multiple times but you still don’t know what it means.
“Fucking beautiful,” he says, staring down at you and he prays that you can’t see how lovesick he really is. Seeing you lying there completely naked for him, that you trust him that much, it’s making him fall for you even harder.
“You think so?” You ask, your skin feeling like it’s on fire as he’s now looking like wants to eat you whole.
“Swear,” he nods before hooking your legs over his shoulders then going in again, hungrier as he continues, feeling his cock straining in his jeans as he hears you moan over and over, feeling you grabbing at his shirt, balling it in your fists just to have something to hold onto.
You’re already close, feeling an orgasm build and for once, you’re not in your head, wondering if you’re doing it right. With Igor, something just clicks and you’re able to stop yourself from overthinking. All you can think about right now is that he definitely knows that he’s doing.
His name spills out of your mouth in a breathy moan as you reach your climax, your back arching as you scratch up the part of his back that’s exposed by his bunched up shirt. He goes for one more bite before pulling away, wiping his face with his shirt.
He closes your robe and gently ties it before leaning down, his face only inches from yours. You’re sure, positive that he’s going to kiss you, but he just smiles, the one that’s only reserved for you.
“Go shower,” he says and you nod as he stands to help you up but as soon as your feet hit the floor, your knees give out and he’s quick to catch you. He picks you up and carries you to the bathroom and sets you on the toilet before turning on the water for you. He then wordlessly leaves, shutting the door behind him to go finish the pipes, both of you not able to think about anything besides what just happened.
All Igor can think about since he left your apartment the other day is you. Well, more specifically, how he should have kissed you when he had the chance. You were right there but he was scared. He doesn’t normally kiss people during sex because that’s just too intimate for him so he avoids it at all costs. But he wanted- wants to kiss you so badly that it hurts.
It’s plaguing his mind, all he’s been able to think about ever since. He just sees your lips and wonders what they’d feel like slotted between his. He just knows they’d taste like that lip balm he always sees you putting on and he desperately wishes he could rewind time and just go for it. It’s been days and he can’t escape it, and it’s driving him absolutely insane. He feels like he’s reaching a breaking point and he needs to do something about it.
Fuck it.
Before he even thinks about what he’s doing, and it’s so unlike him to not think something through, he’s knocking on the door to your apartment, silently praying that you’ll be home. He can’t stand it anymore. He’s sick of waiting, he’s sick of holding himself back-
“Igor, what-”
His lips are pressed against yours and you both feel sparks, butterflies, electricity- whatever you want to call it. He feels everything when he’s around you, and he can’t let himself deny it anymore. Your lips are just as soft as he dreamed about, and he worries he took things too far until he feels you relax into his touch and kiss him back, your lips slotting against his in perfect rhythm.
His hands cup your face, his thumb affectionately rubbing gently over your cheek as he walks you both back into the apartment. He kicks the front door shut behind him, not even caring in the least at how loud it slammed shut. Your hands rest on his chest, melting against him. You feel practically dizzy. He takes up all of your senses.
You don’t break the kiss until you're both breathless, his forehead resting against yours as you try your best to calm the beating of your heart. Your chests rise and fall in sync as you both just silently bask in the aftermath of the kiss. You can’t help the lovesick smile that spreads across your face as you open your eyes to see him smiling back at you.
“я тебя люблю.” When he musters up the courage to finally fucking say it, it feels like a weight has been lifting off his shoulders. He’s burdened him by keeping his emotions hidden for far too long. He’s done, he’s never felt more confident in anything before. This is it- you’re it. He knows it. “I love you,” he reaffirms, making it clear.
Your breath catches in the back of your throat at his confession. His statement hangs in the air for a moment as your eyes scan his. You can’t believe what you’ve heard for a moment- it all feels too good to be true. But, you let yourself believe him. You finally feel ready to fully let him in. You know you can trust your heart with him. He’s who you want, always.
“I love you too.”
You press your lips to his again, not wanting to be apart for as long as you have already. You feel like you have so much time you need to make up for and you don’t want to waste another second. With your lips never leaving his, your tongue is in his mouth as you pull him further into your apartment. He lets you drag him, happily. He’d follow you anywhere.
Guiding him into your bedroom, you gently push him down onto your bed. He’s sitting on the edge as you straddle his waist. He wraps his arms around you, his hands slipping under your shirt to rub your back and your arms wrap around his neck. You smirk against his lips when you feel his bulge underneath you. Emboldened, you grind down on it and elicit the softest moan from his lips. You’re already addicted to hearing it and you want more. You do it again, proud of yourself, for being the one who makes him feel like this.
He’s disappointed when he feels you pulling away from him, and he pouts until he sees you sinking to your knees in front of him. His eyes widen, watching you so intensely and it thrills you. You fumble with the fly of his jeans, pulling the zipper so tantalizingly slow that he thinks he might combust.
“Always take such good care of me,” you purr, and you tug on the waistband of his boxers. He helps you get them down his legs and you swear he hasn’t even blinked. “I want to show you how much I appreciate it… how much I need you.”
Oh, he’s completely and utterly fucked. He wants this so bad that it actually hurts. He can feel it straining in his jeans and he just needs some release. You’re pulling his pants down and both them and his boxers drop to his ankles.
You stare up at him with that flirty look and he’s glad he’s sitting because if he wasn’t, he’s sure that he’d need to. He presses his hands against the mattress as you spit into your hand, wrapping it around him before pumping.
He watches you, a shuddered breath falling from his lips as his eyes flutter closed. No one’s done this to him in so long and he forgot how it felt. And maybe this is because it’s you, but he’s convinced that this is the best handjob he’s ever received. The sensation is overwhelming, and he can’t help but throw his head back as he chokes back a moan.
“I wanna hear you,” you coax, running your hand up his thigh encouragingly. He nods, biting his lip as he watches you. Fuck, you’re so pretty. He’s mesmerized by every little thing you’re doing, taking it all in. He watches as he’s wetting his lips because suddenly his mouth feels too dry as you tilt your head down, licking a long stripe from the base of his cock to his tip.
He whimpers, gasping at how good it feels as you kitten lick the precum from his slit. You look at him with these doe eyes as you sink your pretty lips down on his cock and he can’t even think straight. His breathing his jagged as he brushes your hair out of your face for you, and he can’t help but just admire you. He swears he’s never felt this good.
“Fuck,” he moans, as he feels your tongue swirl around his shaft. He feels like he might pass out if you keep going like this. You’re going to make him see stars and he’ll forget his own name. “You feel so good… красивая девушка,” [“beautiful girl,”] he gasps, stroking your hair as he gazes down at you like he’s in a trance. “So close… fuck.”
He feels like all of the blood in his body is rushing to his cock as he feels that familiar coil winding inside him. He wants to ask you what to do, he doesn’t want to assume. It’s like you can sense the question before he’s able to ask, because you quicken your pace almost like you're daring him to finish. His eyes shut tightly, and his whole body shivers as he cums and you still don’t stop.
He’s struggling to catch his breath, his body practically feeling like putty in your hands as your fingers stoke his thighs comfortingly as he comes back from his orgasm. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but he’s at a loss for words when you open your mouth- sticking out your tongue just enough to show him how you’re swallowing everything he gave you. Fuck.
He’s quick to cup your face in his hands, leaning down to kiss you again. With a gentle touch, he’s guiding you back up towards him as you peel your sweats and your soaks panties down your legs. You’re shocked that he still wants to keep going- guys you’ve been with before would be done by now, but not him. He’s so completely obsessed with getting you closer, keeping you closer- you both are nowhere near done. He has too much time to make up for.
As you straddle his waist, he guides you down gently on his cock and you softly moan against his ear as you feel the way he stretches you out perfectly. The atmosphere around the two of you has changed- neither of you frenzied, but ready to settle into each other. You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck as he nuzzles into your collarbone, pressing kisses over the fabric of your shirt before pulling it off of you.
God, you make him feel so warm everywhere. His breath catches in his throat when you finally sink down on him completely and he worries perhaps that his heart stopped. He presses his forehead against yours, his large hands wrapping around your back pulling you close- your bare chest flush against his.
“You feel incredible,” he praises, leaving a trail of kisses from your neck and down your shoulder. You tentatively move your hips and his hands find your waist, holding you still and at first, it confuses you. When you realize what he’s silently asking for, you’re more than happy to oblige. You hold his shoulders, nuzzling your face into his neck and he strokes your hair.
It’s so intimate. And you feel so strange by how much that it doesn’t scare you- not anymore, not when it’s him.
It’s a few moments until you're squirming, desperate for a little friction. You start small, grinding your hips again slowly, drawing out your movements as you carefully observe his reaction. He must feel the same desperation as you do, because it’s all he needs. He groans, throwing his head back, overstimulated at the sensation. His hands slide down, holding you securely as he presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss and thrusts up into you messy and desperate.
“Love you,” he pants, your breath hot and jagged in your ear. It sends shivers up your spine. “Only want you,” he promises, and he says it like a needy whine as you feel his movements getting sloppier.
Your fingers are digging into his shoulders, and you're leaving red marks all over his skin. He loves it, wanting to see all the evidence that you were everywhere. He needs the reminder when you’re not around that this was all actually real. Your nails against his skin make him shiver, and he suddenly is hyper aware that he loves the sensation. That’s not even something he’s even thought before- he’s just so attracted to every part of you that he’s infatuated with your nails for fucksake. He loves it, he loves you, he wants to spoil you if you’d just let him. He’ll pay for you to get your nails done pretty however you like if you keep using them to mark him up like this.
You’re moaning, his name falling from your lips and you look so pretty sitting on his cock that he can’t focus on anything else. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, overwhelmed entirely by how well he’s hitting that one spot so well that it’s making tears prick in the corners of your eyes. He’s feeling so close, so desperately on edge that he can’t think straight- but he still reaches up, and gently wipes them away with his thumb. It’s a touch that’s way too tender in contrast to the way he’s fucking you.
You feel yourself getting close, and you swear that you’re seeing stars as your orgasm washes over you. You cry out, burying your face in his chest because you’re feeling so sensitive. He can feel you tighten around his cock and he knows he won’t be able to last much longer. He can see that your orgasm exhausted you, so he skillfully flips you both gently so you're laying on the bed and he’s hovering over you.
“Fuck, you did so well,” he praises, continuing his pace, kissing you. He’s holding his upper body up on his hands as they rest on either side of your head. He’s gazing down at you, taking in how you look in this moment- your hair splaying out on the bedspread, your chest rising and falling as you breathe, your eyes looking up at him… it’s all too much.
He feels like all of the emotion, everything he’s feeling, all of it just begins to bubble over and he pulls out just in time before his orgasm hits him like a large wave. He finishes on your stomach and he rests his head against the crook of your neck as he takes a second to catch his breath.
Your eyes feel heavy as you both lie there for a moment, the haze taking over both of you. He kisses your cheek, pushing your hair back from your forehead. He gets up, promising he’ll be right back. You can hear the sink running, and he waits for the water to warm before he runs a cloth under the stream for you.
You can hear him puttering around, and you’re starting to wonder what he’s doing that’s taking so long. Just when you begin to wonder, he’s walking back into the room with a warm damp cloth in one hand and your reusable water bottle in the other.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, kissing your temple, and putting the water bottle in your hands. “I emptied the filter so I wanted to refill it before I forgot.”
How did you end up here? You wonder what you did to somehow deserve this treatment. He drags the cloth gently across your skin, cleaning you up carefully. He disappears again to toss it in the hamper and then rejoins you on the bed, pulling you in close to him. You rest your head on his chest, your fingertips gently tracing the tattoo on his chest aimlessly.
__
Not too many days after, you’re waiting outside Igor’s house- the music from your car’s speaker is making the bass vibrate as you tap your hands on the steering wheel. You sent him a text, letting him know that you’re here- cause who just walks up to the door these days? Not you. You pull down your sun visor, taking one last look at your appearance in the mirror- you were nervous. You’d never been to his house before, never met his grandmother who he spoke so highly of. It was intimidating.
Your phone vibrates, and it’s Igor calling. Your brow furrows in confusion, wondering why he’s calling you instead of meeting you at the door. You answer almost immediately.
“Hey,” you say, trying to sound more relaxed than you were. You were trying desperately to make your heart stop beating so fast with nerves as you looked over to the house. You turn off your radio. “What’s up?” You ask, trying to sound casual.
“I’m so sorry,” He apologies, and he sounds completely sincere. “I’m not home yet. It was-uh, work thing.” How does he even begin to explain all the shit he saw today? He wants to tell you in person. He wants to just see you, knowing that would be enough to make all of the stress of today melt. “I will be there soon- as soon as I can.” He can sense your hesitation over the phone.
“Please, go inside,” he urges, and you bite your lip feeling unsure. “My grandmother- my tatik is home- make yourself comfortable. She wants to meet you…”
“She wants to meet me?” you ask, a shy smile spreading across your face. He’s talked to his grandmother about me. The thought itself is absolutely dizzying, and you can’t remember a time you felt like this before.
“Of course she does,” he says, a little surprised by your question. “I told her about you- please, I won’t be long. She’s expecting you to come anyway.”
“She doesn’t speak English well,” he adds quickly. You feel anxiety rise in your chest. You worry about how this interaction will go if he’s not there to translate. You decide to not let that apprehension win, and you decide to just say fuck it and go inside.
“Okay,” you resolve, “I’ll see you soon.”
With that, you pulled your key out of the ignition and walked up the front steps. You take a deep breath before you knock not knowing what to expect. Igor spoke so highly of her, and you wanted her to like you, desperately.
You weren’t expecting to need to look down when she answered the door. Hunched and slow moving, she opens the door with a smile on her face. In her house and fuzzy slippers, she didn’t seem at all bothered to greet company in her pajamas. She ushered you inside before you got a chance to introduce yourself. You slide off your shoes and leave them in the front entry, and she nods approvingly.
“I’m (y/n),” you introduce yourself and offer to shake her hand. She extends her fragile hand out to you and you smile, gently shaking her hand. “Igor told me he’d be late…”
“Always late,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. You can’t help but giggle at her disdain for his tardiness. “Come- help me,” she says, hurrying you into the kitchen. “Need young arms.”
Before you even realize what you’ve gotten into- you are elbows deep in kneading dough with your forehead covered with flour. She watches your technique over your shoulder and nods approvingly, appreciating your effort since she doesn’t have the strength to do it anymore.
Igor can’t help the way his heart swells, hearing the laughter of the two of you from the entryway as he gets home. His grandmother sees him first, walking over and swatting him on the arm.
“Почему вы не привезли ее раньше?” [“Why didn’t you bring her over sooner?”] She asks, and she sounds angry. You tilt your head confused, worried you did something. Igor offers you a gentle smile, melting at the sight of how quickly you’ve seemed to settle into his world. He sends you a reassuring look, and he watches the anxiety melt away as you continue what you’re doing. “Пришло время привести домой хорошую девочку,” [“It’s about time you brought home a good girl.”]
“Она великолепна. Не правда ли?” [“She’s great, isn’t she?”] He replies, blush forming on his cheeks. “не смущай меня” [“Don’t embarrass me.”]
She waves him off, walking back over to my side and she pats me on the shoulder for a job well done. “Thank you,” she says sincerely.
Spending time with Igor’s grandmother in a way, made you feel more connected to your mother again in ways that you didn’t fully expect. You find yourself back in the midst of your mother’s culture, and it’s almost like you can feel her presence again. It feels like family, and it terrifies you and excites you all at the same time.
You want to hold on to the feeling so tightly and never let go. You were so afraid of getting hurt again but if you find yourself longing for more days like this as the three of you sit around his grandmother’s dining room table. It feels so normal that you could cry. It’s stable, and it feels safe. For the first time you let yourself relax into your feelings and you can’t help but smile as Igor’s grandmother forces you to take thirds, which you know better to decline.
After dinner, he walks you to the door and you have three tupperware containers of food in your arms his grandmother insisted on giving you to take home. He rests his hand on your back as he walks you out, guiding you gently out onto the porch so you can have a few minutes alone.
“I think she likes me,” you smile, triumphantly and he can’t help but nod in agreement.
“Mhm,” he murmurs, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips.
“I wanted to ask you..” you trail off, suddenly a little shy under his gaze.
“Yes?” He asks patiently. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The sweet gesture makes you shiver.
“I have that trip… the one I was supposed to go on with my mom…” You begin, not sure how to ask him. You second guess yourself, wondering if this is all happening way too soon. You take a steadying breath. “Would you ever consider coming with me?”
“Of course,” he promises, smiling widely. He chuckles, and it relieves all of the anxiety that built up while you sat on this question for weeks. “There are so many places I’d love to show you.”
