#Igor x reader

[bbygirl9]

Okay so I think the actor Yura Borisov from Anora may be Simon 🧐

[the-witty-pen-name]

Little Glimpses

Igor (Anora) x F! Reader

18+ Only Blog - Minors DNI

Warnings: smoking, alcohol consumption, cursing

Word Count: 2.5k

Notes: I have not been able to stop thinking about this man since I saw Anora. I just had little parts of stories in my head so I compiled them into one thing.

Little glimpses into the reader’s relationship with Igor.

Everything on the table shakes when the train passes by. You press your hand down, gently holding onto the crystal ashtray in front of you to stop it from dancing around. Your eyes feel heavy. So you tilt your head back, and rest them for a moment until the disruption subsides. You take a drag of your cigarette and exhale in the direction of the open window next to you- letting the smoke waft outside your small studio. Once everything stills, the only sound is the comforting tick of the clock above your stove. You take one final puff before dropping your butt into the ashtray. You watch it smolder as it slowly burns out. You need to get ready for your shift.

You hate your uniform. The bright blue polo shirt and the stupid matching visor- fucking stupid. You feel like you look like a moron and you’ve always found it embarrassing. You always took off the dumb thing when your manager went home for the night. No one comes in after midnight ever- the occasional drunk but they don’t care if you’re wearing your visor or not.

On the slow nights you read, or sometimes you’ll watch trashy reality TV on your phone. With your elbows perched on the counter, you flip through your most recent romance novel as the time passes. It’s well past 1am and the bright fluorescent lights buzz above you.

“Uh- $40 pump two, please,” a polite voice breaks your concentration. It makes you jump in surprise and you apologize quickly.

“Shit- uh, fuck sorry,” you fumble, quickly placing the book down, opened to keep your page. You take the cash he hands you as he offers a subtle smile.

“No need for apology,” he expresses, and you can now hear his accent- distinctly Russian, or maybe Armenian? You aren’t sure. His voice is soft and comforting- very kind. You’re immediately more at ease. He reads your name aloud from your name tag. It’s infuriating as much as it’s endearing.

“You’re all set,” you offer, suddenly shy. You pass him the receipt after it is printed. He nods, tucking it into his jacket pocket. You watch him walk back outside, the cold air wafting in as the bell above the door rings.

As he waits by the pump, he catches you watching him through the window of the store. When he meets your eye, he’s amused when you immediately look away- trying to play off like you weren’t looking the whole time. He’s flattered, and he can’t help but smile to himself. He’s not used to any sort of attention- he tends to go by unnoticed in his daily life. He can be intimidating when he tries- out of necessity, but that’s not him.

He’s so pretty, you observe, like James McAvoy you settle on. You avert your attention away for the final time and decide to turn back to your book and do your best to ignore the headache that’s developing under the store’s harsh lights.

It’s one of those passing crushes, at first. The kind like when you fall in love temporarily with a stranger across the grocery store. You play out the whole thing in your head to inevitably never approach them, go home, and let the cycle of daydream continue another day with another stranger.

---

You’re freezing as you stand on the sidewalk in the long line that has now wrapped around the block. Your ankles hurt from the height of your heels but they’re too cute not to wear. Your outfit is far too short and shows far too much skin for the night air, but in your defense- you and your friends didn’t imagine you’d be outside this long. Your entire body is covered in goosebumps as you wrap your arms around yourself to keep warm. Your friend offers you a cigarette which you accept gratefully as she places it in your mouth for you.

“Fuck!” you exclaim frustrated, “Why aren’t they fucking letting anyone in?” You peer over to try to see the front of the line, and you notice people towards the front are trying to reason with the club’s bouncer- who you immediately hate because you resent his hoodie and puffer jacket he wears to brace the cold. You think about how the moment you can step foot in, you’re making a beeline to the bar and getting a shot to warm up.

Someone, probably a promoter or something, emerges from the inside. He says something to the bouncer, you’re too far away to hear. The bouncer nods, and the guy starts walking down the line. He looks at the groups who are waiting, and he gestures to a few groups of just girls- you and your friends included- and ushers you all inside. You’re too elated to care as he’s saying something about needing to up the ratio of men to women blah blah blah. You quickly stomp out your cigarette and all you can think about is warming up.

You link arms with two of your friends as you head towards the inside, scurrying excitedly to get out of the cold. The bouncer nods to each group as they enter, but puts up an arm to stop you and your friends. “IDs,” he says, and you swear his voice sounds so familiar.

“C’mon man, we’re cold as shit,” your friend complains, letting go of your arm to retrieve her ID from her clutch. Looking in his direction, you immediately recognize him from the other day- the customer from your overnight shift. You aren’t sure if he would recognize you, you're positive you put more thought into the whole interaction than he did. You make eye contact and you swear for a moment he wants to say something, but he just stares. Realizing you decided to go without a bag, you bite your lip and mutter a silent “shit” as you need to pull your ID from your bra to hand to him. He says nothing, just nervously licks his lips as he takes your license.

“Thanks,” he says, handing them back. Your friends huff, and drag you inside. Your eyes linger on him as they pull you and you both watch each other until you disappear from view.

A remix of Von dutch is playing so loud and the club is packed. It’s completely dark except for the raving strobe lights that are synced to the beat of the music. You can’t hear anything over the screams of Addison Rae as your friends get a round of shots. You happily accept, tilting your head back. The burn is such a welcomed sensation to your freezing body. You let the crowd dictate where your body moves, letting yourself start to let loose.

A couple of hours later, you’re more than ready to get out of there. It was fun, but your friends have mostly paired off with men and you’re anticipating that soon they’ll be roping them into wherever the group decides to go next. You aren’t in the mood for another night of splitting a cab with one of your friends and whatever guy is going back to their place. You don’t need the reminder that amongst the group, you’re never the one getting the guy, you think pessimistically. You text your friends, lying about an early shift, and let them know you’re getting an Uber.

Standing outside, you’re freezing again, and it’s almost worse now that your body has been so acclimated to the warmth inside. You lean against the brick building and cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to warm yourself up.

“Here,” you hear him say, and you look up surprised, not realizing he was there. He offers you his jacket for you to take. “You need,” he insists. You offer a thankful smile and slip it over your shoulders. It smells like woodsy cologne and cigarettes. The warmth engulfs you and you swaddle yourself into the warm fabric.

“Thank you,” you say shyly. He nods and puts his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. He pulls out a small pack of pre-rolls, and offers one to you. You accept and hold it between your fingers as he lights it for you.

“You probably don’t fucking remember me, but like, I think you got gas the other night at the uh place I work-”

“I remember.”

“Oh, okay-”

“You were reading a book and then what’s the word ‘ogled’ me? You ‘ogled’ me when you thought I wasn’t looking,” he teased.

“I was not ogling you!” you scoff, defensive. You can feel how warm your face is from his accusation. “It’s my job to make sure dumbasses aren’t gonna blow themselves up at the pump. It was purely a safety measure,” you lie obviously, making him laugh.

“Whatever you say,” he responds with a sly smile. You see a car start to pull up. Reluctantly, you unwrap yourself from his jacket and hand it back to him.

“Uh, that’s my Uber,” you explain and you swear he looks disappointed. He nods, accepting his jacket back.

“Can I call you?” he asks as the black sedan pulls up to the curb. You nod enthusiastically. He hands you his phone and you quickly text yourself.

“Uh that’s me,” you explain dumbly, cringing because duh. He just smiles, and it’s painfully sincere. You slide into the backseat of the car, and you can feel your phone buzz with a notification before you even finish putting on your seatbelt.

My name is Igor

---

You’re sitting on your couch as you lick the rolling paper to finish off your joint. A metal tv tray rests over your lap acting as your work station. You admire your work and then pass it to Igor, who accepts it without a word. You move the tray table to the floor so you can get comfortable, and you lean into his side as he lights the joint. The two of you share it, passing it back and forth between each other as your eyes are both focused on the TV.

It’s been a few weeks and your relationship with Igor has gone on undefined. Lines have been blurred and you can’t pin point if it’s the substances that are in your systems or if it’s just that when you’re with him, time feels like it stops- a hangout stretching into a couple days without you even realizing.

You don’t know what you’d call this. It’s not friends, and it feels much like it’s much more than casual. You assume it’s exclusive- you spend so much time together; there’s hardly any opportunities for him to see someone else. But there’s been no lines drawn, no labels given- he’s slotted himself into your life seamlessly like you’ve known him forever. His grandmother treats you like her own blood, taking an immediate liking to you. It all just works.

“What is this?” You ask suddenly, looking up at him. His eyes widen in confusion. He takes the joint out from between his lips, exhaling smoke.

“Maybe Idica, I don’t know,” he muses and you sigh in frustration at your inability to be direct.

“I’m sorry,” you laugh, hiding your face in your hands. “No, not that,” you clarify. “I meant like- you and me.”

“Oh, um,” he replies, mulling things over in his head before he speaks. “Whatever you want.”

“I don’t know what I want,” you answer honestly, and he nods understandingly, but you feel him clear his throat and you can feel him straighten his posture. You worry he misunderstood your meaning. “No, no- fuck. I made it weird,” you sigh, “I just meant like, I don’t want to mess it up by changing it. But at the same time, I don’t want you doing this with someone else- and I don’t want to do this with anyone else but you- you know?”

“I know,” he replies, he’s so patient and sweet about it. He kisses your temple and just lets you process. He’s so gentle like that, all the time. “I want the same,” he states simply. “Just us,” he reiterates, taking another hit and then passes the joint back to you.

“Just us,” you smile.

“So does this mean we’re uh, boyfriend girlfriend?” He teases and he laughs at how your nose scrunches in disgust.

“Gross,” you pretend to gag. You shake your head, like your trying to shake out the memory of him saying something so fucking cheesy. It makes him smile.

—

“He’s coming runnin’ runnin’ runnin’ runnin’ runnin’ runnin’,” you sing obnoxiously as Igor’s pulls up to the curb. “He’s coming. Ridin’ round town, they gonna feel this one.” You see his cheeks turn pink as he tries to not laugh.

“What the fuck is that?” He questions, walking around to open the passenger door for you.

“Oh my fucking god, dude. It’s Tyler the Creator- it’s IGOR’S THEME. Did you now know that? I’ve been doing that bit for like two weeks and you didn’t think to fucking look it up?” You laugh a little. You buckle up, and extend out your hand. “Give me your phone, you need to listen to it.”

Without hesitation, he passes his phone to you and then he pulls away from the curb slowly. You start the album from the beginning, and you settle back into your seat. You put his phone down in the cup holder and rest your head against the seat belt. It’s a comfortable silence as you both listen. As he drives, he rests his right hand comfortably on your thigh, his thumb making circles.

Anxiety is a tricky thing. As time passes, you begin to feel insecure for monopolizing the music. You start to feel guilty about the jab you made at Igor’s expense for not knowing this album. You begin to overthink everything, and the music playing starts to make you feel overexposed. And you begin to associate his silence with resentment.

“You can change it to whatever you want,” you say apologetically. He looks at you confused from the corner of his eye, only glancing over so he can focus on the road.

“But you like this?” He asks, puzzled.

“I don’t want to force feed stuff to you,” you try to explain, “I didn’t mean to make you sit through it.”

“I think it’s great,” he offers sincerely, “it’s good.”

“You don’t have to say that, just because I like it,” you counter, feeling insecure.

“I like the music,” he reiterates, “I like it, and I like it because it’s something you wanted to share with me.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I love when you share things with me,” he interrupts you before you begin to spiral. “Do it more often,” he says, encouragingly. He stops for the red light, and leans over to kiss you. “Please.”

He turns his attention back to the road as the light turns green and you can’t help but smile as you watch him turn the dial up.

PART TWO

[munsonsmixtapes]

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.”

[scaramouche-bully]

— ☆ Rematch

— Eager to have another opportunity to see Jing Yuan and Igor face off, you easily agree to play as referee for what you believe will be another fight of fists.

Includes: Igor + Jing Yuan

[ Sub ] Gender-neutral reader Contains: Poly relationships, sweat, voyeurism, rough sex, stomach bulge, crying, begging, unprotected sex, kissing, coming untouched, cumming in pants + alluded Igor x Jing Yuan.

[ masterlist ]

I finally finished the Wardance event and immediately fell in love with Igor to the point I wrote this in one sitting. It is unfortunate that we may not see him in future events but I hope we can. I'd like to see more Igor and Jing Yuan interactions.

Rumors travel fast on a ship filled with long-life species, what else is there to do when you've had so many years to explore every possible hobby you could find? Naturally, the ever-changing gossip of new developments that can change with a flip of a coin makes everyone a little excited. Whispers behind painted nails, lingering eyes that gaze up and down, and even shy giggles that are poorly hidden behind paper fans. The rumor mill is fast and latches onto anything that could be exploited for entertainment, you would know since it's been your main source of income for a few hundred years. Initially, being a journalist wasn't what you had in mind when you first arrived on the Luofu, but many things in your life suddenly crashed into you and expected you to figure it out. Your boss suddenly decided to cover an entirely different person of interest when the deadline was only a few hours away. The near-death experiences of wandering too deep into places known for its mara-struck monsters roaming about, all for a better picture. Even now, being suddenly asked to play as a referee for the most hyped contestants of the Wardance. An exclusive rematch between the Luofu's ringmaster and the outworlder from Belobog.

Distantly, in the far recesses of your mind which titters on the edge of rationality, are amused that you can finally answer the fan-made question that's been buzzing all over the Luofu.

Igor does fuck like he fights. Hard, fast, and he doesn't pull any punches.

"M-Mister Igor- ah! Slow...down!" you cry out, nails sinking into metal and flesh. You're starting to grow a little crazy, as if the mara decided to strike now even though you're far too young for the disease to form through old age. It's far too hot, Igor runs warmer than anyone given the coldness of his planet, but you're starting to believe that the air is turning fuzzy from the sheer heat radiating off him. It doesn't help that he wants to press himself as close to you as he physically can, the sweat on his body smearing against your skin that you think should feel disgusting, but only makes you burn hotter. You feel like you're melting inside and out, from the tip of your toes up to your brain that's turning dumber and dumber with each passing second.

"Sorry, where I'm from, there's no time for gentle loving. Besides-" Igor punctuates his word with a harsh thrust against your battered hole that sends you squealing, "I don't lose to the same opponent twice."

The declaration awakens another layer into Igor's "fighting spirit", he pulls out until only the tip of his cock is still being clung to by your hole, before burying his cock so deeply you swear you can feel it in the back of your throat. He fucks with all his strength, the loud slapping noises of his skin hitting yours fill the room, almost loud enough that your spectator can't hear any more of your near-hysterical moans. Jing Yuan has the best seat in the house, hovering just above you as he watches Igor bully his cock inside you, a tiny bump in your stomach appearing and disappearing with each thrust. Droplets of sweat trail down Igor's chin until they fall on your fucked-out face. He wonders what it tastes like? His own cock strains against the fabric of his pants at the thought, twitching and weeping pitiful drops of precum but he keeps his hands obediently at his side. It's not his turn yet.

"Ah!! No! I-Igor! Ah- my...you're gonna break me!!" your cries are ignored when Igor leans down to smother your words of mercy. It's almost cute that Igor kisses sweetly, as if he's trying to soothe the tears streaming down your cheeks despite being the cause of them. The coolness of his metal arm sends tiny shivers up your spine as it settles on the arch of your spine, pressing you even closer until you're molded against him. His other hand hitches your thigh onto the curve of his waist, a new angle for him to drive himself deeper. Small little grinds of his cock against your most sensitive spots send shocks through your body before you finally snap, a muffled moan swallowed by Igor as you cum. It doesn't stop the man, only fueling his actions as he pounds into you with utmost desperation, strings of slick being dragged in and out of your hole. Jing Yuan's eyes dim at the sight, his tongue unconsciously running over his lips. His fingers twitch slightly, his resolve and discipline wavering in the face of such temptation. The only reason he doesn't move is the near primal look in Igor's eyes that snap to his, a silent command to wait his goddamn turn.

"Don't cry. You'll like—you'll love this, just toughen it out a bit more," Igor mutters against your ear. His hand has wandered to caress the bulge in your belly, pressing his fingers down against the bump every time it pops up. Igor's hips stutter at the feeling, muscles tensing and twitching as he struggles with his strength to not cause any unwanted pain. It's been a while since he's had the time to indulge in a warm body. Between the matches and his ambition to fight for his home, he hasn't had the time or intention to accept any of the more personal proposals he's been given. There were more important things to be doing, if he needed to vent any frustration, he could be training. So to say he's a bit pent-up is an understatement.

"Fuck- Fuck! Can I come inside?" Igor groans, hands moving to dig into your waist as he physically pushes and pulls you up and down his cock like a ragdoll. You can only give a jumbled slurry of noises that vaguely sounds like a yes before Igor tenses, a low groan as he pumps his cum deeper inside you. The room finally calms down, allowing for a brief respite as Igor gathers his bearings to finally let you go, the sound of your body dropping onto the bed lifeless has him looking up worried.

"Had this been an official match, you would have been disqualified for knocking out the referee," Jing Yuan muses, his head tilting to the side until his white hair covers one of his golden eyes. He's rewarded by Igor's punched-out chuckles, his body still panting as he comes down from his high. Igor slowly maneuvers you more comfortably on the bed, easing your legs down so you don't wake up with a cramp. With great difficulty, because you're so warm, he pulls out with a groan, globs of his cum pooling onto the bedsheets. With one deep inhale, Igor tilts his head up to escape the haze, and with his exhale, golden eyes meet gold.

"You need help with that?" Igor asks as he stares Jing Yuan in the eye. He doesn't need to look down to see the mess in the lieutenant's pants. He knows that despite not being touched and the calm facade, if he were to pull Jing Yuan's pants down he would see the same white cum that's still leaking from your hole.

[moon-heart22]

For those who don't know who i mean:

Van helsing

Igor

[lovemyself-m-k]

besides from the one igor (anora) fic thats on here…do you know of any other ones??? Im so sad like why doesnt anyone write about him? Hes so cute💔💔

Ik right unfortunately I don’t 😭 when the movie was out i thought everyone would write about him but its not the case 💔

[crsssie]

you make me wanna make ya fall in love

word count: 1.97k || EMT Leon || slightly ooc + flirting (HIPAA violation)

summary: the 2000s called, they want their romcom plot back

"I'm actually gonna pass out." You sit on the couch, blinking rapidly as your head goes light.

"I called 911 already, so hang in there, alright?!" Ashley stays connected to the call, holding you up as you groan, stomach caving in on itself and your eyes giving out. Oh, god, is this how you die? You focus on breathing through your mouth, ignoring the way Ashley's voice is reduced to ringing and the way you're sweating buckets. Ew. Maybe you should've— oh. this is because you didn't eat, huh? It is 8pm. Yeah, this one's on you. Maybe the heavens will be nice and let a nice hot EMT show up to your door and save your ass— yeah, tough luck.

You can't believe you're about to pass out and all you can think about is men. You're literally failing the Bechdel test. What are you? Some poor girl in a teenage romcom? You're not even a teenager.

You close your eyes for some shut-eye, disrupted when you're shaken awake, blinking slowly as you catch sight of Ashley first, holding her chest in relief when you stare at her.

Then, you notice him—

Beautiful blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, arms hard as a rock, you might've just died and landed in heaven. Are you in heaven? Surely you must be. This man looks so gorgeous it's incredible. You have to be in heaven right now. You blink at him with doe-eyes, confusion visible on your face. Ashley's here, so you're not in heaven. Did you just happen to have a super hot EMT show up to your door like you had been imagining? Oh, god, are you... psychic? This is a revelation! This is insane! You have to—

No, seriously. You're not in a romcom. Can the narrator stop describing it like it's some sort of a romcom? The 2000s called, they want their cheesy romcom plotline back.

"Fucking hell." You groan, shifting against the wall. "How long was I out?"

"Ten minutes." The man reads. "You're just low in blood sugar. We have some orange juice, would you like that?"

"Yeah. Sure." You furrow your brows. "God, wow, count on my body to shut down without sugar."

"It happens." He thanks his coworker for the glass, holding it to your lips. "Tilt, please."

You tilt your head back slightly to press your lips to the glass, drinking it as you lean back to lick your lips, offering to take the glass from him as your arms start cooperating. "I can do it."

"Best not to." He nods. "Just finish the glass. We'll stay until your blood sugar rises."

"Isn't it almost immediate?"

"Takes around 15 minutes."

You raise a brow at Ashley, who shakes her head, and you finish the rest of the glass, watching as Leon checks your stats.

"How often does this happen..." You glance at his nameplate. "Leon?"

"More often than you'd think." He hums, tilting his head at you as Ashley talks to the other worker about your insurance. "Let me guess, you forgot to eat?"

"Yeah. My body stops feeling hunger after a certain point." You hum. "It's not super good, huh?"

"Yeah. Try to have some candy or juice throughout the day. It helps." He nods. "College student life, huh?"

You tilt your head. "How old are you?"

"Been a few years since school." He nods. "Your blood sugar's back to normal, sugar."

You hold your hand over your mouth, raising a brow at him. "That definitely breaks some sort of work protocol."

He smiles, sneaking you a candy from his pocket with a wink.

Huh. Hard caramel.

"Are you alright?" Ashley rests a hand on your shoulder, and you give her a thumbs up.

"All good." You lean against the wall to get up. "I should eat, though."

Leon grabs your arm, helping you up. "Definitely. Have something high in sugar or carbs."

"Will do, Leon." You nod. "Wishing you an uneventful work day. May no emergency be absolutely awful."

"Thank you. Those days are the best."

You send them off as Ashley starts nagging about not eating, and you pout as you lock eyes with her, door locked, ambulance gone.

"Yeah, he was hot."

"YEAH, HE WAS."

You forget about him, though. You start popping candy throughout the day, same brand as the one Leon had given you, your lips curled upwards sweetly when it hits your tongue. It's not food, but at least you won't be passing out because your blood sugar's low again.

You're also never going to see him again, so it's fine if you carry a piece of him around with you.

Except you do. You see him at the EMT booth at a local concert, Ashley in your arms because there's something wrong with her this time. (You really ought to start taking care of yourselves, huh?)

"Ah, sugar." Leon smiles. "Friend this time?"

"Yes." You set her down as he checks up on her. "Is she okay?"

"Seems fine. Just needs some water. Dehydration. How long you been out there?"

"Since morning." You glance at the venue. "Didn't eat either, though I've been having candy."

"That's not good for you, sugar." He hands Ashley a bottle of water, sending her off with you. "Go grab some food."

You watch as he fishes out a twenty from his pocket, blinking as he holds it out to you.

"I can't take that from you, sir."

"Nonsense. Concert food is expensive. It's on me." He smiles.

"You're still breaking workplace rules, I see." You rummage through your pockets, taking Leon's hand as you place a caramel in his hand. "As a thank you."

"I'm sure it'll be delicious later." He smiles. "Now, off you go. We've got quite a line."

"Wouldn't dream of holding you up, Leon." You lead Ashley to the side by the crowds, waiting for her to grab a drink before pulling her to grab something to eat. You pay for her food first, setting Ashley with the rest of your friends before waving to get something of your own.

"Get his number!" She manages to yell as you disappear into the crowd.

Now that's breaking protocol.

Yet, you use the remainder of Leon's money to get him something to eat, waiting for the line to dissipate slightly before handing him a drink.

"For me?"

"It's got... liquid IV in it." You scrunch your nose. "Hopefully that's not a scam."

"Not completely." He takes it from you, pinching at the straw to mix it. "Did you eat?"

"I was about to."

He glances at his coworker and then the intermission.

"That'd be bad, Kennedy." The woman next to him warns.

Leon sighs. "Have fun eating."

"Thank you again." You grin.

"Ah, and for dessert." He reaches for your hand, placing another candy in it. "A hard caramel."

"I'm starting to think you have a thing for caramels, Leon." You raise a brow, taking two steps back before throwing a wave his way. "I'll pay you back later!"

You grab dinner with the rest of your friends, waving bye to them when they leave to continue, Ashley making sure that you've got candy on you before she's gone. You have one final singer that you'd like to see before you leave the event. You're glad you live close to the venue. You could probably walk back or uber if you were really desperate. Though, you wonder just how long the EMT are staying.

You find yourself mixed into the crowd as you wait, jumping when your favorite artist finally appears, cheering with everyone else. You don't blame the rest of them for retiring early. You're the only one who listens to this artist anyway. The setlist has you jumping, cheering at the live vocals, yelling your heart out with the lyrics, and when the set finishes, the sun's almost down. It'd be smart of you to head out at this point.

You make a turn to head back, popping the caramel in your mouth, stopping in your tracks when a man blocks your way.

"Where ya off to, sweetheart?"

"...Oh, you know." You smile, nodding to excuse yourself.

"Need a ride home?"

"Truly, it's alright—"

"I insist."

You wrack your brain for a solution, yelping when you feel hands on your waist instead, pulling you backwards. Your back is flush against someone's chest, smile on his lips as you blink. Sure hope it's not some other creep.

"Hey, you good bro? Had one too many to drink? I suggest the EMT tent."

You let out a sigh in relief, watching as the guy notices the uniform and scrambles.

"Thank you." You turn around, smile on your lips as Leon nods.

"You're just too lovely, sugar. Gotta keep those flies off of ya." He nods. "You feeling alright?"

You nod.

"Gone all quiet on me?" He tilts his head. "Alright, up you go."

You yelp as he lifts you into his arms effortlessly, arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you out of the crowd. He presses his forehead to yours to check your temperature, looking to the side when you don't react at all.

"You good?"

"I'm fine, Leon. You didn't need to." You let him take your vitals, the tent practically empty now that the concert was finishing up. His coworker nods at him and heads out, and leaves you with Leon. That's gotta be illegal in some way. There is no way a law is not being broken right there. Aren't they both supposed to get off at the same time? Is that?? legal? Is their shift over?

"You seem fine." He kneels at your chair, fingers on your wrist as he takes your heartbeat. "Heart's a little fast, though."

"Yeah?" You mumble. You're sure you look embarrassed beyond belief right now, so you opt for sucking on the caramel in your mouth.

You're not surprised he takes notice. "Actually, I think my head's spinning just a little. Must be the lack of sugar. You got any on you?"

"Well, I kind of ate my last one..." You mumble, sticking your tongue out with the candy.

"I don't mind."

"Yeah?" You suck on the candy.

"Of course not, sugar." He leans in, tilting his head. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, who am I to say no?"

You let him kiss you, tongue with the caramel offered to him, sugar on your lips and his from it, though you would argue that the only reason the candy seemed to taste so good was because of him. You tilt your head to angle better, Leon's hands finding yours on the chair, pushing himself to you with a hum in his throat, tongue in your mouth as he steals the caramel from you. You don't mind. You might've just tasted a slice of heaven of your own.

You pant, tongue stuck out and mouth open as Leon shows you the candy on his tongue, smiling.

"You got a ride home, sugar?"

"You gonna kidnap me?" You raise a brow, licking your lips for whatever remnant of him is left on you.

"Not with this pretty lady, no." He smiles.

"Breaking work protocol again, I see."

"I'm off duty." He glances to the side as the new shift arrives, and Leon offers a hand to help you up. "Don't worry, sugar, you can pass out on my car. I've got all the candy you could want."

"Hm..." You tap your chin, taking his hand as he pulls you with him, not letting go.

"Hm what?"

"How about we grab brunch sometimes nearby? Just to make sure my sugar levels don't drop from forgetting to eat?" You tilt your head, watching as Leon tilts his head back to you.

"Oh, sugar. You don't even need to ask."

[paladin--strait]

Here Is the request as asked!

It was that Matt Rempe and the reader were in a long distance relationship, she flies over which he knows about. But she goes to watch one of his games, afterwards she walks into the locker room with a baggy jersey on and a mini skirt (obviously it has Remps name and number on the back).

How would he react? 🤣

i hope this is okay! let me know if you want me to rewrite it! ❤️

-

matt and i's relationship grew after we met when the rangers came to play the new jersey devils. he saw me wearing a jonas siegenthaler jersey, sitting on the nearest row to the ice.

when matt knocked jonas out with a high elbow, skated over to me, he smiled and laughed, pointing at me from the other side of the glass. my eyes widened in confusion and a bit of fear at his actions.

when a staff member came up to me after the game and handed me a pass to meet the rangers players after the game, i looked at the her with confusion. "i'm not here for the rangers, sorry." i don't accept the pass and hand it back to her.

"miss, one of the rangers players wants to meet you. please, follow me." she hands me the pass again, insisting i come with her. i sigh and follow her, down a hallway and past a bunch of reporters, waiting to get in to meet the players for post game interviews.

when the staff brought me into the locker room for the rangers, she pointed at matt rempe and told me that he was the one who requested to see me. i look at him and make eye contact, his black eye staring back at me as i walk towards him.

"so, did you like that elbow i got on siegenthaler earlier?" he smirks out at me. "saw you in his jersey, and i knew i needed you to be a rangers fan. and to make it even better, wearing my jersey."

i scoff. "hurting my favorite hockey player isn't going to win me over, ya know." i smart mouth back at him, rolling my eyes.

matt then made a comment about me being feisty, and that he needed to find another way to win me over. he offers to take me out that night in an attempt to win me over, and it took some convincing, but he finally managed to take me out for dinner and drinks.

he eventually brought me over to become a rangers fan, or what i called the dark side for a long time. matt and i became friends and eventually more, but the distance between us became a problem very quickly. matt and i are both clingy. when we finally get to see each other, we can't keep our hands off of the other.

we facetime every morning and every night, even if one is too tired to stay awake. we fall asleep on the phone if we have to. so when i had enough of the late night and early morning calls, i booked a plane ticket to new york.

after the flight, when i land in new york, i walk out of the small, cramped hallway and walk to baggage claim. matt told me he would be waiting there, but i didn't know that he would bring some of the guys with him to meet me. i smile and we run at each other, giving each other the biggest hug.

after a while of hugging each other so tightly we could barely breathe, we let go and give each other a kiss. i hear my name being called and look behind matt to see igor and artemi. i smile and hug them too. we smile and talk a bit before matt grabs my bags for me and we leave.

-

the next day, matt has a game at MSG. i tell him i'll be there and i'll see him at the arena after the game. but while he's gone all day to rest at the gym in the arena, using the hot tubs and the physical therapy to help him warm up for the game like he always does, i'm sleeping in his comfortable bed that smells like him.

after i wake up, i spend my time at home before the game getting ready. taking a shower and after that doing my makeup and hair. before i get dressed, i have two hours left before the game starts, so i don't get changed just yet. i use the extra time to put my things away for while i stay in new york.

when it's time to get ready, i throw on my rempe jersey and a short skirt, it reaches above my knees. matt told me once on the phone that he loved this skirt. he saw it on my instagram post from a girls night out about a year ago. it's blue, with two white stripes at the bottom and it matches the jersey perfectly.

i take an uber to the game, arriving just in time for the players family members, partners, and friends, all with passes, to go in. i flash my pass to the security, and he lets me in. i walk up to the VIP booth and say hello to some of the WAGS that i haven't seen in a while. i text matt, letting him know i'm here and i'm in a vip booth.

he texts me to wave at him when he come out on the ice during warmups and that he loves me. when i see him skate out a few minutes later, i raise my hand, waving at him and he waves back at me. i smile and giggle, watching him skate in circles like a ballerina during warmups.

-

after the game, i show my pass to the security once more and they let me into the locker room. i walk over to matt, who's tying his sneakers. "hey there. good job out there." i smile and giggle when he jumps like i scared him.

"hey...holy fuck, thank you." he says, standing and hugging me. "i don't think i've ever played that much. my body hurts so fucking bad..." he kinda leans his weight on me with his arms wrapped around my waist.

i smile and pat his wet hair from the shower he just took, kissing his cheek. "it was well deserved playing time, babe. you played so good." i pull away, kissing his forehead and smiling at him.

i see his eyes rake over my body, eyes wide when he sees my skirt. "that's the one i love so much..." he makes eye contact with me, grinning happily. "god...it looks so fucking good on you...even better in person..." he smirks slightly, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me closer to his body.

"careful big boy..." i whisper, laughing. "we're not alone in here." he nods and rolls his eyes at my words, but still smiling at me. i smile and kiss his lips, leaning close to her ear, "you can take it off of me later, if you want."

i pull away from his ear and look at his now wide eyes. he suddenly pulls away, beginning to pack his things as quickly as possible. i laugh, "matt, honey, what are you doing?"

"i'm packing my things so we can leave." his voice is serious, but my laughs make him break, bursting into laughter too. his teammates look at us weirdly when our loud laughter fills the room. "gotta get that cute little skirt off of you as soon as possible." he smiles at me, grabbing his bags and taking my hand, leading me out of the locker room after saying his goodbyes to his teammates.

matt is never the first player to leave the locker room and arena after a game, especially after a win. but that night, matt had a reason to leave, and it was you. matt scored twice that night, once on the ice, and once with you.

[urnanabanana]

Luminary Wardance screenshots (Final Battle)

[ashen-char]

I'm obsessed with the idea of ani joining in the conversations about partners and bringing reader up like "they never let me cook! which is sweet but i want to cook too!" or "they drool a lot when they sleep!" in a innocent way not thinking much about the fact the other girls are talking about their partners and she just started yapping about reader like they're together.

I just know the fact she always brings reader up in partner conversations makes them even more confused when ani drops the information she's married and it's NOT with reader, like they're happy for her but 'what does she mean she's not with reader??' Yes, they tease her and joke about it but they fr think there's something going on with those two.

reader likes to sit close to anora when she's playing, they're reading a book or doing something job/studies related, stuff like that. They just like being around her either they have her attention or not, they just feel this comfortable aura coming from anora whenever she's close, she's home. You'll giggle about her getting mad at villagers and then ani looks at you annoyed because 'you're suppose to be on my side!' and you're like 'sorry, got to a funny part on the book...' and you're reading the saddest and most tragic book ever.

I think later on reader introduces ani to one or two more violent games where she can kick people's asses! probably Mortal Kombat, she'll definitely play this type of games when a client/her boss pissed her off badly on that particular day and she needs to punch someone to calm down, even if it's on a video game it helps her a lot! But she likes more the cozy games like animal crossing, stardew valley, even the sims (her favourite is the sims 2 because of all the attention to detail the game has).

You once tried to make her play an horror game (resident evil, until dawn, silent hill, amnesia) and she tried it, she really did but after some time she was like 'nop! I'm done! put my animal crossing NOW!'

About ivan, like I said his parents are to blame for a big part of who he is today but he's 21 already and that's old enough to at least KNOW not to leave your wife alone when she's fighting for a future with you against 3 MEN DOUBLE HER SIZE! like if you care about her and her safety you either runaway with her or you stay there with her! That scene is what makes me think that anora cares about him but he doesn't care about her or at least not as much, you know?

YES! There's nothing wrong with wanting to have fun and be free, you don't have to be serious all the time like life's too short for that shit, but the fact he doesn't take anything serious, never thinks before doing a joke or just the way he treats people bellow him (maybe besides anora) lacks sense, maybe even empathy, like why yell as a joke at this staff member who's apologising already for not having the room ready because 1. THEY DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE COMING! and 2.BECAUSE IT WAS BEING USED!! it's a terrible joke, it can make that poor person lose their job if their superior happens to walk by, it lacks touch with reality too!

On the coke scene: if he had taken too much coke, mixed with the alchool and probably other drugs that shit could lead to his death or a coma! toros and garnick aren't stupid, they very likely know that ivan is using drugs and shit like that but if they don't know how much he has done/where he is how are they suppose to help him if it goes wrong? they are there to keep him alive, to keep him in line too, but mostly to keep his ass alive! You don't have to be serious 100% of your time but you also can't be 100% of your time acting like this petulant kid. ivan strikes me as someone who doesn't want to be treated like a kid and wants to be free but he hasn't shown any sense of responsibility to be able to take care of himself alone, like he can still have a kid spirit and be responsible AND sensible towards other people.

Oh i don't think he would even bother to ask anora about her past because like you pointed out he only calls her ani, she only started existing when ani did too. if ani did try to talk to him about it, open up about her past and stuff he wouldn't pay much attention, too distracted playing video games or on his phone. He would be like one of her friends boyfriends she heard so many complains about, you know?

it's a cute assumption but now I'm a little disgusted with it because of what I know... so embarrassing to me! i think with ivan she tried to keep it as much fairytale-ish as she could so she also tried to be a fairytale character, maybe because she felt the need she showed him her true self he would leave, while with igor she didn't want to/felt the need to put up a character, because he wouldn't leave since he understands her struggles.

I do agree that I prefer igor and ani over ivan and ani, like there's somehting more realistic about them, more personal and more 'honest-ish' for lack of a better word to express what I mean. I think ani needs someone a little more serious and responsible than ivan but also someone who can be carefree and I think if we had more time we could see igor being carefree around ani.

Anora only deserves the best and whatever or whoever that is I hope she's happy and at peace!

HELLO I DIDN'T MEAN TO LEAVE THIS ASK FOR SO LONG it kept cutting off when i tried to answer on mobile (which i was restricted to at the hospital) and eventually i decided to leave it until after i actually watched anora and had more formed thoughts!

ani's got a good rapport with the girls at HQ (barring diamond obviously). with how they flocked to see the fight, i bet they're pretty nosy too, listening intently to pick up on clues of if reader and ani are together. they'd have bets on it. lulu (who's basically the captain of the reader x ani ship) would scoff if anyone said reader's just ani's best friend, offended because obviously she is ani's best friend thank you very much.

sometimes when lulu invites ani out after work, ani says that you two have plans, excitedly yapping about how she's planning to decorate your shared sims' house or the ccs she downloaded. and lulu has this knowing look, cause that's so domestic? sweet? calm? not something ani would find fun if you weren't the one showing it too her. like, lulu finds ani in their backstage/changing room area on her switch, doing her daily fruit foraging in her ACNH island, probably cussing out tom nook for upping the house fee when she JUST paid the last one off. lulu knows all of ani's smiles and the ones about you/something you showed her are different to her performance smiles, to her flirty customer service. they're even different from when she's bragging about what a catch ivan is, about his mansion or how much he likes her.

how much he likes her. never the other way around. any other girl would be half in love with how vanya splashes out his time, attention, and cash. even if ani hasn't realised it herself, it's because her heart's already occupied with reader. imagine ani being away for that first week, apologising over and over to reader cause they already made plans while you just tell her it's ok. and then the next two weeks of their marriage, ani was happy and swept up in the excitement but also... restless? missing you? she busied herself with polishing up her russian, in the lavish new wardrobe and new life. in the dark of night wondering when it'll make her as happy as a simple day with you.

ivan's actually pretty interesting now that all the clips have context. he didn't run to not be caught, but more so to take in all the fun he could before he was whisked back - hitting up all the clubs, getting so drunk he wouldn't worry anymore. he didn't even plan to leave ani, fully wanted her to run with him. it was more... "consequences? what are those? boringgg". didn't wanna talk about his family, didn't wanna hear a word of reprimand from his parents, considers anything that isn't having fun as unnecessary. and especially him thanking ani for making his last trip fun as if he didn't ask her to MARRY him, when she was sceptical in the first place and told him not to tease her! she made sure he was sincere multiple times and he strung her along, pure and simple, knowing his parents wouldn't let that happen. knowing that he wouldn't actually fight his parents for it/for them.

gonna write some thoughts on ivan on another post this is getting too long and tbh i was more focused on anora :P (basically he's all about freedom and even argues back when they make a comment about him possibly marrying a man). the marriage was a fantasy to him, as is america, it's a freedom he won't actually pursue at the end of the day. not when being under his parents' thumb is easier. him being treated like a child is actually a privilege. ani's only two years older and knows so much more of responsibilities, of what it takes to earn and own things, of consequences. all vanya has to do is simper and follow his mom, childishly asking if her clothes are from the new collection rather than listening to her beratement.

i feel like if the marriage didn't collapse because of his parents, it'd be whenever ani decides she's had enough of the partying or the smoking and watching him play games. he asks about her parents, and she even offers to let them meet or go meet her sister. she wants to go to disneyworld for their honeymoon. but vanya would be the same vanya. show up drunk and blazed, embarrassing her in front of her mom and stepdad (while she covers his ass and lies "oh i swear he's not always like this, he's just tired"). ruining her childhood dream by letting his friends crash their honeymoon and trash the cinderella suite. she'd realise that this isn't perfect, that it isn't sustainable. it's fun, yes, ivan was right that they'd probably still have fun together if he wasn't rich. but imagine them going through the paperwork of getting that green card, of her trying to make him take it seriously so he can stay. applying, appointments, providing papers and proof... vanya would groan and act like ani's dragging him to do this. and he'd offer ani hits from his bong like he did to klara, never thinking about if something's the right time.

to contrast a relationship where ani would have to be the mature one, ani is notably different with igor (obviously). even if not romantically, having someone there that she can freely bitch at, let out her tension on, that accepts her moods must feel freeing. all these masks she puts on, be that at the club, or the perfect wife for vanya/his family. she's got her barbs, she's allowed to be prickly and abrasive and say whatever comes to her head. igor will laugh it off. she softened near the end (not the end end, i'm sure there's a lot of thoughts on that) when she brought him that blanket. wordlessly sharing blunts or taking the cig from his mouth, smiling when he laughs at a joke she slung to hurt his feelings. he doesn't just take it either. he asks why she says these things about him, asserts that he isn't (a gopnik, a f-slur ass bitch, a drug dealer, a rapist etc), but doesn't get mad at her for it. when toros or galina says "no, that didn't happen", it's to shut ani up, to not listen, to prove that she doesn't have a say/doesn't have power in the situation. when igor says it, it's on equal grounds-that he had to because he was genuinely scared about ani and that he didn't want her to hurt herself. AND after apologising multiple times, rather than jumping to "i didn't hurt you". it was "you were never in danger of being harmed".

[looooochie]

Boyfriend headcanons | seleccion sub-17

summary: just them being cute asf

warnings: fluff, headcanons

(here are some headcanons of them to kill u with cuteness :) )

- raul jimenez

─ whenever he holds you in his arms, and you trace the tattoos on his arm, he constantly get the the thought to get your name tatted on him

- hector fort

─ when he plays video games, and like, a cute thing comes up, hector always thinks of you

- daniel munoz

─ one thing about him, whenever you go shopping, he always insists on carrying your stuff for you, like  he won't let you carry ANYTHING around him, even the smallest things

- jon martin

─ he kind of gets scared and isn't sure if he wanted to get a tattoo or not. so he asks you if he should but you have to go with him to prove it

- pau cubarsi

─ pau takes notes on his phone on what your favorite things are so, next time if he goes anywhere, he can look at it so he won't forget anything about you

pau prim

─ if you ever prank pau or like do something he thinks is pretty childish, he know how to get his way. he either pranks you back, or just smothers you with kisses until you say not to prank him again

- pablo lopez

─ he really hates being called 'pablito' by other people, because it makes him feel small . but, he only likes it when you call him 'pablito', like you're the only one who's allowed to call him that

- roberto martin

─ whenever you tease him or make him feel flustered, he waits when you least expect it, only to tease you back

- marc guiu

─ whenever marc goes to play for his national team, he gets extremely nervous, because he doesn't want his team to get eliminated out of any tournament their in . you always reassure him that he can get far and he's super happy about that

- juan hernandez

─ he sometimes gets made fun of for being short and you really don't like it when someone does that . so you're around him like all the time so you can make sure he won't be called 'short' . but, he's extremely grateful for you being with him

peio huestamendia

─ when you guys cuddle, peio really likes to be the little spoon . I mean, he doesn't really mind being the big spoon, but he likes your arms around him

- igor oyono

─ if igor sometimes makes you kinda mad at him, he regrets it almost every time . he will even cry just for you to forgive him, but you do eventually

fran arbol

─ sometimes you go to his matches and admire his goalkeeper skills . sometimes he struggles and asks you if he needs any improvement, you always tell him that's it's okay, and he sometimes does improve though

- izan merino

─ if you ever come to his city to play against whatever team you're going against, he always comes in your jersey, just to show a little support

- andres cuenca

─ the first time he lifted up his hair, you told him that his face is fine and he's beautiful, bangs or no bangs . because he always had an insecurity that he had a big forehead, so he often just tied his hair into a small ponytail when he sees you

- marc bernal

─ when he wakes up first, he tries to wake you up and you always tell him "5 more minutes Marc.." . so he always mentions that he made your favorite breakfast just to wake you up . sometimes he did, sometimes, he did.. not

- oscar mesa

─ oscar is most of the time a cold-blooded person and doesn't show much emotion to things . but when you come to madrid for your el clasico match, he cries . he was the definition of 'crybaby', and he treats you like he hadn't seen you in years . it was shocking, but you love it

- quim junyent

─ on the other hand, quim really likes it when you ruffle his hair, it's very soft and fluffy and it makes him feel special

- daniel yanez

─ sometimes he stresses out because apparently his shirts go 'missing' . but when daniel realized that you keep some of them, he didn't ask for them back, he lets you keep them

- paulo iago

─ whenever he sees you play against his female team of real madrid, he wants to support you by wearing your jersey, but he's afraid that he'll be a traitor to his team . so like, whenever he doesn't go out, he wears it, when nobody's looking

- marcos gonzalez

─ he's the type of person to get really scared whenever you aren't around him . so that's why, whenever you two are in the same bed, he uses hand to to search around for your body and pull you close to him

(their instas just incase: rauljimenezz, hctorfortt, danielmunoznavas_, jonmartin.4, paucubarsi, pauprim_06, ppabblo_, robertomartin_10, marcguiu9, juanht10, peiohuesta_, igoroyono_, fran_arbol, izan4_mr, andres_cuenca4, marcbernal_, oscarmesap17, quimjunyent, danielyb7, paulo.iago10, marcglezz_)

[all444glo]

𝙏𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙎 𝘿𝙍𝙔

⚠️:professor/student relationship, power imbalance, emotional manipulation,discussions of virginity, slut-shaming, rumors, alcohol use/abuse,unprotected sex (implied), (Tyler is 24, Y/N is 20)

🎞️: You weren’t supposed to be in that class, and he wasn’t supposed to notice you. But he did. Professor Okonma saw your silence as a challenge and your writing as a weapon. What started with a turned into office hours, ungraded essays, and the slow, burning collapse of boundaries.

“𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩 𝙄 𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤”

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. You weren’t even supposed to be in the class.

You signed up for it on accident during that glitchy-ass registration week, thinking it was a “Black Lit” elective. Turned out to be African American History 207, taught by the youngest professor in the department who walked in late with a chipped tooth and a tote bag that said “I MISS THE OLD KANYE” like he meant it.

Professor Okonma.

He didn’t introduce himself like normal professors. Just walked in, looked around, and said, “Y’all look high and uninformed. That’s a bad mix.”

Everyone laughed. Except you.

You were quiet. The kind of quiet that made people forget you were there until you turned in something.

Tyler noticed it first in your discussion posts. You always submitted them early, tucked with hyperlinks, citations, long-winded opinions you never to spoke aloud. You wrote like you had something to prove but kept your mouth shut in person, pretending to draw blanks when called upon. The week your class read The Souls of Black Folk, this lesson spoke to you on a deep level. “This one,” he said, holding up a printed essay—your essay—like a prop, “wants to criticize about double consciousness but hasn’t said a single word in class. Weird flex.” Heads turned. Your throat burned. You hadn’t even made eye contact all semester.

He kept going. “Y/N argues DuBois isn’t arguing about duality—she says it’s about performance. About how survival’s a costume. A drag act.”

Someone snorted.

Tyler ignored it. “So… Y/N. Wanna explain what you meant?”

You blinked at him. The class was dead quiet. Your stomach flipped. You should’ve told him no. Should’ve said nothing.

Instead, you swallowed your pride and said, “I said what I said.”

He raised his eyebrows, clearly loving this.

He was one of those corny teachers, the teachers that were so emotionally involved it was almost pushy.

“Cool. Then defend it. You just said Black identity is a performance. That it’s all pretend.”

“No,” you corrected, voice shaky but gaining ground, “I said that survival requires performance. Blackness isn’t pretend. But the way we code-switch, smile when we don’t mean it, shrink ourselves? That’s theatre. That’s drag. It’s not about pretending to be something we’re not—it’s about surviving what we are.”

The room shifted. Finger taps and ‘clock it’ being heard around the room.

Tyler leaned forward, all interested now. “So you’re saying DuBois was a drag queen?”

Laughter. But your eyes stayed steady on his.

“I’m saying DuBois was tired. Like we all are. And he was just the first one to say it out loud in a way white people couldn’t ignore.”

Tyler stared at you for a moment. You could see it then—that flash of recognition. Like he’d been testing you, and you passed in a way he didn’t expect.

Class ended ten minutes later, but you were still packing up when he said it:

“Y/N. Stay after a sec.”

Of course he did.

The door closed and it was just the two of you. Him, leaning against the desk like it was his, like the whole room belonged to him. You, arms crossed, backpack still halfway zipped.

“You talk like someone who’s scared of her own voice,” he said.

You scoffed. “And you are beyond corny.”

He smirked. “I’ve been called worse.”

You didn’t move. He didn’t either.

“I don’t like when people hide behind good writing,” he said after a second. “It’s cowardly.”

“You don’t know me well enough to say that.”

“I know your words. They’re brave. You’re not.”

That hit something.

You looked at him, eyes sharp. “I don’t fiend for approval. That doesn’t make me a coward.”

He smiled. “You just performed right now for me.”

Silence.

Then— “Why do you care?”

“Because I read fifty papers a week and half of them are lazy. Yours aren’t. I care because you’re interesting, and you waste it being invisible.”

You swallowed hard, unsure what to say.

Then he added, casually “You taking the follow-up course in spring?”

You shook your head. “Doesn’t fit my track.”

“Make it fit.”

You stared at him.

And the worst part?

You did.

You added the class. Changed your schedule. Changed your minor. Told yourself it was for the credit. That it made sense. That it wasn’t about him.

But of course it was.

A semester later. His first class of the week, about 4 weeks into the academic year. You'd submitted your paper early, one he made you rework three times. He still hadn’t graded it.

“I liked your rewrite,” he said, leaning in the doorway of his office while you sat cross-legged on the floor beside his bookshelf, skimming through a copy of Assata. “Still too polished. You scared of mess.”

You didn’t look up. “Or maybe I’m just not okay with submitting imperfection.”

He grinned. “Perfection? Last time I checked that’s not in my syllabus”

You turned a page. “Even after a whole semester, you’re still corny Prof.Okonma”

“Call me Tyler, we should drop the formalities”

You shrugged.

He walked in, closed the door behind him. Sat down in his chair like it was a throne.

“You’re not like most of my students ,” he said. “You don’t care about approval, however you do love the attention.”

Your stomach turned, but you didn’t flinch.

“Like you’re any different,” you said. “You’re a grown man chasing twenty-year-olds for validation.”

That hit. He didn’t laugh this time.

“Maybe,” he said finally. “But I didn’t chase you.”

“You didn’t have to.”

You didn’t remember who kissed who or when the book slid to the floor. All you remember is the weight of his hand on your thigh and the way he looked at you like you were a problem he finally decided to solve.

It wasn’t romantic. It was too tense for that. Too much nuance laced into silence. Too many arguments turned into flirtation, then back again.

You two found yourselves kissing in his office often after class, him scheduling tutoring just to see you. Whether it was to intellectually debate or make out pressed against the books in his library. He was fascinated by you.

Of course it’d advanced. He wanted your mind, body and soul. He was a highly educated man losing debates to a girl with half the credentials, and that turned him on.

Although—Lately the energy had shifted. Mistakes made last semester came to light, and whispers were heard around campus. Luckily to your knowledge, your professor knew nothing about it. It was best that way, drama was best kept out of academia…and the bedroom.

You were currently curled against the edge of the bed in your campus apartment, eyes unfocused, your body sore and your mind racing. He was pulling his pants back on, hoodie slung over his shoulder. “You gotta promise not to tell anybody,” he said, zipping up without looking at you.You blinked. “Why would I kiss and tell?” He glanced down at you, then smirked, like he couldn’t help himself. “Because you talk too much. And... you kind of got that vibe.”

“What vibe?”

He picked up your panties from the floor and tossed them. “The ‘I know exactly what I’m doing’ vibe.”

You caught them without a word.

“That your way of calling me a whore?” you said quietly.

He shrugged. “Didn’t say that.”

“But you meant it.”

He sat on the bed beside you, dragging a hand through his hair.

“I meant...you like attention. And you know how to get it.”

You stared at him. “Right, because I fucked you. That’s the giveaway.”

He leaned back, didn’t deny it.

You sat up, crossing your arms over your chest. “Behind every feminist man, is still a man. Judging the women they love to fuck”

That made him pause. Really pause.

He turned, eyes rolling now. “Don’t intellectualize this interaction and make it deeper than it is.”

You shook your head. “Nothing more deeper than reality”

He was quiet for a second, then said, “If that’s how you perceive yourself—”

You laughed, bitter. “What does that even mean?”

He didn’t answer. You grabbed your hoodie and pulled it over your head.

“Get out,” you said, voice low.

“Y/N—”

“You just pissed me off now go!”

He stood up, almost hesitant. “Sex was good though.”

You threw a pillow at him.

He ducked, laughing, already at the door. “9.5. Screamed too loud, though. This a dorm, remember?”

“Please get the fuck out.”

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You glared at him.

“See you tomorrow, professor.”

The classroom was dim, lit only by a crooked sunbeam pushing through the blinds. You walked in with yesterday’s eyeliner under your eyes, hoodie drowning your figure, painkillers rattling in your pocket. You hadn't checked your email—why would you? Your head was still buzzing from last night’s Casamigos and whatever the hell Steve passed you. You didn't expect him to be the only one there. Tyler. At the his desk. Headphones in, red pen tapping against a stack of finals he hadn't finished grading.

When he noticed you, he pulled one earbud out.

“You look like hell.”

You slid into a seat without responding.

“You didn’t get the email?”

“No.”

“Class got canceled.”

You leaned back, stared at the ceiling.

He looked at you a little too long. “You drunk still?”

“No,” you lied.

He chuckled under his breath. “I thought they were joking when they said you were an alcoholic.”

That line hit like spit to the face. Everything clicked, he knew. You knew Tyler was young and had a close relationship with all his students but you didn’t think he’d gossip with them especially about you. You were his intellectual progeny, someone he looked up despite being older than. You assured yourself that even if he did hear the rumors he was far too intelligent to believe it.

Alcholic

Easy

Going

Fiend

All of which you’d been hearing the last nine months, all starting with one idiot.

“Wow,” you muttered. “That’s professional .”

“What?”

“I wasn’t such an alkie when you fucked me less than 24 hours ago,” you said, sitting up.

Tyler’s jaw tightened. “unrelated .”

“Hell Yeah, It’s related ” you snapped. “When you wanna get in my pants i’m brilliant. After I finally give in i’m an alcoholic?”

He closed his notebook slowly. “You’re twisting my words.”

“No,” you laughed bitterly. “You just speak in implication. I know the language, Tyler. I’m fluent in bitchy high schooler shade.”

“You’re comparing me to a bitchy high schooler?” he said, a hint of comical disbelief in his voice

“If that’s how you perceive yourself,” you said, using his words against him.

He watched you closely.

“You know I was a virgin before I met you, in fact I was nearly innocent before I came to college”

“Y/N I—“

“Did you ever think to ask me?”

“I didn’t think it was my business,” he said quietly.

“But clearly it was your enough of your business for you to throw it in my face!.”

Silence.

“Wanna know the big story?” you said, voice flat. “I said no. Just once. To one of them hooping niggas And he couldn’t take it. So he lied. Told all his boys we fucked. That I was loud, easy, thirsty.”

Tyler didn’t move.

“I had receipts,” you said. “Texts. Him crying, begging. I was on my period and he was still trying to fuck. And when I didn’t? He told everyone some bullshit.”

You looked away before your voice cracked.

“And then there’s you. Feeding into it. Smartest one in the room but not smart enough to stay out students business—and pussy”

“I didn’t know, and not you’re gonna make me feel bad for wanting you” he said softly

“You didn’t know and you don’t have to feel bad ,” you said, walking to the door. “All I wanted was compassion and empathy, I wanted the person you portrayed yourself not some man”

You didn’t wait for an apology. You knew it was coming. You just didn’t want to hear it.

|“You should’ve told me. You were a virgin”

Tyler’s name lit up your phone like a curse. 3:14 AM. Classic. You squinted at the message, high, half-drunk, head full of buzz and cotton. The bass from downstairs vibrated through the floors, but up here—Steve’s room—it was quiet. Steve was something like your boyfriend, after drama happened last semester he defended you on fizz and you two were inseparable since then. He was your low-commitment-friend-with-benefits-pseudo-partner. You yearned for more, but his lifestyle didn’t exactly allow for that. You knew he had a few hoes in rotation and due to the openness of you alls friendship you knew that lifestyle wasn’t changing soon.

Your thumbs moved slow.

|“I’m not even sure what you’re on abt rn, but I don’t I owe you an explanation.”

Steve stirred beside you on the bed, long fingers still wrapped around your waist. His shirt smelled like Dior Sauvage and backwoods.

“You texting your professor again?” he murmured, his voice cracked and lazy.

You passed him the blunt.

“Yes, he’s conversing with me about this new book, you know how nerdy he gets”

“I know, I know—tell him to stop texting you,” he said, half-laughing as he kissed your neck.

You smiled, barely.

|”You should probably whatever party youre at. You have a midterm tomorrow.”

You frowned.

He was always in the mix, he knew too much. Definition of being too comfortable.

“Why are you worried about me,” you muttered aloud, thumbs tapping.

Steve looked down at you, trying to look down at your phone but you kept adjusting yourself.

“I’m with a friend ,” you typed. “Not even at the party. What do you want?”

|“I really am sorry for all I said Y/N.”

Steve leaned up, peering over your shoulder. “What did he just say?”

You locked your phone fast, tucking it face-down into the blanket folds. “Doesn’t matter.” You turned into Steve’s chest. He kissed the top of your head like a habit. “You really are my best friend, Y/N.” Your stomach dipped a little. “Oh,” you whispered. “Yeah. I guess you’re mine too.”His words stung, pulling you out of your cross fade induced delusion. You needed to feel wanted and you knew just who to text.

Your phone was already unlocked again. And before you could fully think—

|“You wanna come over later?”

You didn’t wait for a reply.

You stood in your dorm bathroom, hand braced on the sink, hair slightly frizzed, makeup ghosting under your eyes. You stared at your reflection like it wasn’t yours. God you had to stop using alcohol as a coping mechanism. “I don’t even need niggas,” you slurred, chuckling to yourself. “On my soul!.” You drank tap water from the sink in your palm, shivering a little from the cold. “It’d be so fucking funny if I just dropped out,” you said, shaking your head, laughing a little too hard. You wiped tears that hadn’t finished falling and stepped out into the dark dorm room.

The knock came before you could reach your bed.

“Who is it?” you snapped.

No answer.

“Come in!” you called, not expecting anything but drama.

The door opened.

And there he was.

Tyler.

Wearing a hoodie that sagged too much at the elbows, a plain tee under it, socks half-off his heels like he rushed over. He didn’t even look smug. Just... tired.

You rolled your eyes. “Why are you here?”

He looked at you. Not your outfit. Not your legs. You.

“Why are you drunk?”

You scoffed. “Because I fucking can be, Tyler.”

He stepped inside, uninvited, like he belonged there.

“You came all the way over here to scold me?” you said. “Do you have a kink for making me feel bad?”

He closed the door gently.

“I didn’t want our—companionship—.” You watched as Tyler found the right words “To affect you like this considering how—“

You crossed your arms, wobbled slightly. “You think this is about us ending?”

He sat on the edge of your bed.

“You were always quiet,” he started. “In class. But your posts... they went off. You had the range. And I’d be like—‘damn, where is this girl in my class?’ Then that one essay—”

“Oh my God,” you groaned.

“No, I’m serious,” he said. “That one about Bell Hooks and Nina Simone. You said something about beauty and weaponization. I read it twice. Printed it out.”

You blinked. “Congrats you printed it out ”

He rolled his eyes.

“And then I had to challenge you in class. Couldn’t help it. I needed you to talk back.”

“You embarrassed me,” you snapped. “That wasn’t powerful.”

“I know.”

“You asked me to stay after class like a goddamn guidance counselor.”

“And you stayed,” he said softly.

You didn’t say anything.

Tyler stood up now, inches from you. You could smell weed and patchouli and his fabric softener.

“You really got me fucked up,” you whispered.

He tilted his head.

“You didn’t ask me anything,” you said. “Not about what people were saying. Not about why. You just made me your little secret and called it a day. And then you shamed me…”

“Do you know how that makes girls feel? Do you know how that makes me feel. I was honored when you took an interest in me”

His jaw flexed.

“I’m well aware I wanted you too, but it was because I thought we had a connection.” You nervously bit your lips “So used to dealing with dumb dumbs and here you come and you’re just like the rest”

“I am not your fantasy, Tyler.”

“I never said you were.”

“You didn’t have to,” you said, voice cracking a little. “Y’all never do.”

He reached out like he might touch your wrist, but stopped.

“I’m not used to this,” he said again. “Any of this, failing to resist blurring the lines with my goddamn age mate”

“Listening to rumors, and silently holding them against you because I was infatuated with you…and I couldn’t believe it”

You pulled back.

“Congratulations, a rumor ruined the perfect shy image of me you had in your head, and so you proceeded to deflower me like the whore you predicted me to be.”

Then—without thinking, maybe—he sat down again, and you followed, slumped next to him. Silence stretched out until it suffocated you both.

Tyler’s eyes dropped to the floor, he swallowed hard. “I shouldn’t have listened.”

You nodded. “No you shouldn’t have— but what’s done is done.”

A beat.

“You wanna stay here?” you asked, finally. Voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up, unsure if he was hearing right.

“Not like that,” you said. “Just... I don’t feel like being alone.”

He nodded once.

You pulled your hoodie tighter around yourself. Laid back against the bed. He followed, slowly, like if he moved too fast it might break something.

And when he kissed your forehead this time, it didn’t feel like Steve’s.

It felt worse.

Because it meant something. Tyler filled a hole in you that no one else could, he kept you intellectually stimulated. He provoked thought in positive ways, something you’d never experienced. You alls entire existence was problematic

“I wanna start over” He cooed, his hands rubbing all over your body. A sense of comfort washing over you, flashbacks of all the laughs and posts you all shared.

You nodded, “We already did”

[the-witty-pen-name]

That’s What Friends Are For

Igor (Anora) x F!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Summary: You and Igor are just friends- you’re pretty sure. However, lines are blurred when you ask him to take your virginity.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; smut (piv & oral f receiving)

A/N: Thank you for the request, @freakinglizzy ! 😊

This was written in collaboration with @munsonsmixtapes 💕💕

The tv glows on yours and Igor’s faces as you sit next to each other on the couch. He’s keeping his space to be respectful of your boundaries, but god does he want to pull you close. He just knows that you’re cold and wants an excuse to warm you up.

Little does he know that you put on a scary movie so you could get close to him, but you’ve yet to make a move, pulling the blanket in your lap over your face so you don’t have to see the horrific murder on the screen.

Igor always makes you a little tongue tied, and you don’t even think he does it on purpose. He’s always so confident and has no hesitations about being a little flirty. You never feel like you’re able to offer as good as little quips or flirtations back, so this was the best thing you could think of to bring you two a little closer.

Your friendship has always had this underlying tension. People that don’t know you two, always assume your dating and Igor never corrects them. You don’t either. You don’t exactly know what he feels- if he even thinks about you a fraction as much of how often you think about him. You aren’t sure if his flirtations and little acts of affection are just because it’s become a bit between the two of you, or if he actually on some level wants you too. You can’t bring yourself to just ask him, so instead you opt to subject yourself to a terrifying movie in hopes that he’ll make a move.

Igor doesn’t know why you’re doing this to yourself. He thinks it’s amusing that you’re jumping through all these hoops when you could just ask him to cuddle. He lets out a laugh when the blanket goes over your head then scoots over to your cushion.

You feel him pull the blanket off of your head, laughing at how it’s messed up your hair but he’s quick to push it out of your face.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you whisper back.

“C’mere,” he says, holding his arms open and you place yourself on his lap, moving this way and that to get situated and if you can feel him getting hard, you don’t say anything. You just bury your face into his chest as his hand moves up and down your back as he changes the channel. “I’ve got you.”

“That better?” He asks, a smirk spread across his face glancing down at you.

You lean your head against his shoulder as you two watch the tv in silence. It’s some random movie that seemingly neither of you have seen before. From the little bits you’ve seen, it seems like it’s a romantic comedy. The couple stumbles into an apartment, attached at the lips as pieces of clothing are thrown around the living room.

It feels weird watching this with your close friend but at the same time, you can’t lie to yourself and say that you haven’t imagined something like that with Igor. Because you have. You’ve just been too afraid to make a move because you’re scared. You’ve never done that kind of thing with anyone so you’re not exactly sure how to go about it.

You’re also not sure that Igor would want to have sex with you anyway. Because you’re just friends. He has not made any indication that he sees you in that way at all so you’ve just been letting your physical attraction to him fester and now, watching these people have sex on the screen, imagining that it’s you and Igor is making you wet beyond belief.

His hand is still moving up and down your back and now you look up, staring up at the side of his face. He slowly turns to you, noses bumping because of your close proximity. You watch his eyes flick to your lips then immediately back up to your eyes. His hand cradles your cheek and he slowly leans in, his lips slotting between yours in a gentle kiss.

You’re quick to respond, kissing him back, not even bothering to ask what brought this on. Igor grabs hold of your thighs and helps you straddle him so you’re more comfortable as his hands stay on your upper back, still wanting to be respectful even though he wants nothing more than to push you down onto the couch and have his way with you.

He slowly slips his tongue into your mouth and you can’t help but let a moan escape at the feeling. You’ve made out with people, but never like this. Never so hungrily that you’ve found yourself wanting to go further. It’s always fun, but it never really does anything for you. You’ve been pretty sure there’s something wrong with you because of it, but here, with Igor, he’s making you feel everything you’ve heard your friends talk about.

He grabs your ass and helps you grind against him, breaking apart to catch his breath but then immediately going back in, more hungry this time as his hips buck against yours. He doesn’t want to hold back anymore. He can’t. His cock is now straining in his jeans and he desperately needs some relief but he needs you to be the one to say the word. You have to initiate it or he’s going to feel like he’s forcing himself on you even though what you’re doing right now is very much consensual.

“Can I try something?” He asks against your lips and you pull away to nod enthusiastically. That’s not enough for him, though. He needs to hear you say it. ”Use your words,” he whispers.

“Please,” you ask, your tone matching his.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me. I-I need you so bad.”

”That’s all you had to say,” he replies with a smile as his hands slide up your shirt but he stops when he sees the hesitance on your face. “What is it?” He asks, his face softening. “If you don’t want to anymore, we don’t have to.”

”It’s not that,” you shake your head. “I just-I’ve never done this before and I feel like you deserve to know that.” Your heart is pounding in your chest as you wait for him to respond. You don’t know why you’re so nervous to tell him that you’re a virgin because Igor of all people would be so sweet about it.

“Oh,” he nods, pushing your shirt back down. “We definitely don’t have to then.” Your heart is slowly breaking and you’re trying your best to not cry. He doesn’t want you. That’s what this is all about.

”But I want to.” You can tell that he doesn’t believe you and you’re wondering if showing him your wet panties would be enough to convince him that you really do want this.

”But we’re friends. You deserve someone way more special than me to be your first.” What part isn’t he getting? He is literally the only person you’ve ever thought about doing this with and apparently you’re going to have to spell that out for him.

”But Igor, you are special. You’re my best friend and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t imagined this a million times.” Igor’s caught off guard by this. He honestly had no idea that you saw him that way. He’s wondering why you never made a move, because if you had, he certainly wouldn’t have stopped you. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to do this with. You treat me right and I know you’ll be nothing but a gentleman.”

His eyes widened at your confession. He knows just how much you appreciate him, you tell him every day. But this is different. Sure, to some people, sex is just sex. But to Igor, it’s much more than that. He sees it as a deeper connection, another way to get to know someone intimately. He hasn’t slept with many people for that reason and he’s honestly surprised that you’d want to take this step with him when you could have literally anyone else.

He’s not taking this lightly. If anything, he’s considering it an honor and he’s going to be nothing but a gentleman to you. He’d be lying if he said that he’s also thought about the two of you in this way. There’s just something about you that he’s always been drawn to and there’s not a moment when the two of you are alone that he doesn’t think about how badly he wants to kiss you. Now that he’s gotten a little taste, he’s not sure if he can go without it since this is clearly only going to be a one time thing. But maybe if he plays his card right, it won’t be.

“Then I guess I should tell you that I’ve thought the same.” He kisses you again, his hands gliding up your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head then sitting back, wanting to get a good look at you. He swears that he could stare at you like this forever, seeing that pretty look on your face as your pupils get bigger, your bra hugging you in just the right places. You’re…beautiful.

He kisses you again, wanting to warm you up, to let you enjoy being with him like this instead of going straight for it. If he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it right. He runs his large hands up your arms, as his tongue slips into your mouth. You gasp softly at the invasion and you melt into his touch. The little noise you make goes right to his cock. He’s straining against his sweatpants but he’s not even thinking about himself- this is going to be all about you.

“You’re so hot,” he mumbles against your lips. He pulls away, kissing your neck while his fingertips graze over your skin- gently pushing your bra strap down and then kissing your shoulder. You’re anxious to relieve the pulse between your legs, so you grind against his hard length and even through your clothes it already feels so good.

He repeats his move, and slides the other strap off of your shoulder and he gives this shoulder the same tender kiss. Your hands wander under his shirt, and he helps you pull it off. You feel your face heat up. You’d seen him shirtless countless times, but suddenly the air is thick with something entirely different than all of the other times. He’s so attractive, he makes your knees weak.

“Like what you see?” he smirks, pulling you out of your thoughts. You’re suddenly a little shy, embarrassed that you were gawking at him, but he’s nothing but flattered. It makes him puff out his chest just the tiniest bit, a new surge of confidence coursing through him. His arm wraps around your back, his fingers easily finding the clasps of your bra.

“May I?” he asks, his eyes scanning yours for any sign of apprehension.

“Please,” you nod, biting your lip. He smiles, leaning up to reconnect his lips with yours as he unclasps your bra with ease. Without breaking the kiss, you let the bra fall and he pulls you in closer as he deepens the kiss. Before you two go further, he flips the two of you so you're laying back on the couch. He gazes down at you- almost hungrily, taking in the sight of you topless, looking up at him like he’s the only guy in the world.

God, he’s so lucky and now until the day he dies, he’s going to remind himself of that, that you chose him out of anyone else to sleep with for your first time. And how much of an honor he believes it to be.

He leans down and kisses your shoulder again, working his way down to your bare chest, murmuring things in Russian that he knows you don’t understand, but he just can’t find the words in English. He’s gotten all the way down to your belly button, his fingers hovering over the waistband of your leggings.

“You can take them off,” you tell him before he even has a chance to ask. He nods and grabs hold of the waistband, pulling down a little too hard and you both freeze when you hear a loud ripping sound.

You both look down and the huge split down the side seam makes the slight breeze you’re feeling make so much more sense. He gives you an apologetic look and you wave it off. You’ve had them for forever and they were really cheap anyway.

“I’ll sew them up,” he tells you as he continues to rip them until he gets to your ankle, pulling them out from under you and tossing them to the side he then pulls down your panties, tossing them until the pile amongst your other clothes then takes a moment to take him your completely naked body.

Your skin heats as his gaze, but you don’t feel nervous at all. You trust Igor. You know he would never hurt you and seeing the way he can’t take his eyes off of you, he clearly likes what he sees.

He spreads your legs just enough and before you can ask what he’s doing, you feel his fingers inside if you. They’re pumping, nice and slow to get you used to it and even with how foreign it feels having a man’s fingers where yours should be, you can’t help but think about how easily he’s able to touch all of the places you’re never able to get to.

You let out a moan, your eyes fluttering shut as your hands grip the cushion under you. For once, you release all your control and just let yourself enjoy it because for the first time, you are enjoying what’s happening.

You don’t hold back anymore, making all of the noises you feel the need to, not caring what Igor is thinking. This is all about you, after all.

He’s pumping a little harder now, his fingers getting deeper every time as he’s nothing but encouraging, his cock getting even harder with every pretty sound you make.

“Just like that, baby. Making such pretty sounds for me.” His tone is sweet and gentle just like he is, making you feel so…appreciated. He’s doing this for you and yet here he is, behaving like he’s the one on the receiving end because he’s getting hard just from hearing your noises and being on the verge of making you come.

“Oh my god,” you whine. “It feels so good.” Your breath is heavy and you feel like you’re going to come any second now. Especially when his thumb starts to rub against your clit. You’re writhing beneath him, your hands grabbing onto the cushion for dear life as you finally reach your orgasm.

He’s so glad that you decided to hang out at your place because now he can hear your loud moans without having to worry about waking up his grandmother. He knows she's hard of hearing but part of him would still be paranoid.

“That’s it, baby, let it out.” His pumps slow down and he eventually pulls his fingers out, reaching for a tissue and wiping them off. Once he’s done, he tosses them to the side and places himself on top of you, giving you a chance to calm down before moving on.

He kisses your lips before burying his face into your neck, peppering it with soft kisses as he waits for you to tell him that you’re ready. Just when he’s getting comfortable, he feels you grabbing at the waistband of his sweatpants and immediately grabs hold of your hands before looking you in the eyes.

“Easy,” he lets out a laugh. “A little eager, are we?”

“You felt how wet I was. What do you think?”

“Alright, alright. I give in.” He lets out another laugh and stands up from the couch to take off his sweatpants, his boxers coming down with them and you feel your cheeks burn as his cock comes into view. It’s bigger than you imagined and now you’re wondering if he stretched you out enough for it to fit.

He then hovers over you, his smile slowly dropping from his face and you can see that he’s just remembered something.

“What is it?” You ask, propping yourself up onto your elbows.

“I don’t have a condom.” You honestly don’t see a problem since you’re on birth control, but you completely understand why he’s worried.

“I’m on birth control, but I completely understand if you don’t want to continue.”

“So you’re okay with no protection?” He asks, his eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitance. He’d never forgive himself for taking advantage of you so your consent is important.

“Yes,” you nod. “It’s okay, I trust you.”

Igor can see how enthusiastic you are so he slowly moves himself to hover over you again, both of you staring downward as he slides inside. It hurts so good, unlike anything you felt before as he slowly thrusts, his hands reaching for yours. He watches you come completely undone underneath and wonders how he got so lucky as to be the only who’s ever experienced you like this.

You’re already clenching around him, moaning loudly again and it’s music to his ears, exactly what he needs to keep going. Maybe it’s just because he’s hyped this up so much in his head, but he’s convinced that you’re the perfect partner. You’re responding exactly how he wants you to, not worried about being loud and for a second, he forgets that this is your first time because you’re such a natural.

You somehow know exactly what to do, bucking your hips against his, matching his pace as your breathing becomes increasingly labored. Maybe it’s just a natural instinct, but you think most likely that it’s him. You feel so comfortable and safe with him, you aren’t worried about anything besides doing what makes you feel good. Your hands hold his shoulders, digging into his skin unintentionally. Then, your hands are finding their way to his back and he knows that you’re leaving marks in your wake. The idea of seeing them later is enough to make his head spin.

He’s never been with anyone like this. He’s not inexperienced but sex has never felt this intimate. He always tended to be the one to fall harder, to put more meaning into things than he previous partners ever did. With you, it feels different. There’s no lingering worry in the back of his mind that he’s going to get hurt. He knows the same way he’s taking care of you, you’re taking care of him. There’s no more games, no more tip toeing around feelings- it’s just you.

He’d never let himself dwell on it before, not wanting to ruin the friendship he had with you, but it’s becoming so apparent to him now that no one else will ever make him feel like this. He can’t take his eyes off you. The way your hair is played out, the way your eyes widen as you’re looking up at him, the rise and fall of your chest, the way your mouth is contorting into an ”O” with your pretty lips- you’re a vision. He can’t go back to being just your friend, he can’t let this be the only time he sees you like this. He wants you all the time.

He’s been trying to push it down for years, but flirting with you just comes so naturally. You’ve been convinced that that’s just Igor being himself, but what you’ve failed to notice is that he’s not like that with anyone else. You’re the only one he ever wants to flirt with. It feels so natural with you and hearing you flirt right back makes him feel all warm and fuzzy, like maybe you do feel the same way, but if you did, surely you would have said something by now, right?

You’re getting close, he can see it on your face, so he pumps a little faster in order to get you there quicker. You’re making all the right sounds, making him want you even more, so much so that the words he’s been holding in all the time are on the tip of his tongue.

“I love you,” you whine as you reach your peak and both of you freeze as soon as the words leave your mouth. You stare at each other, wide eyed, both of you too afraid to do anything else. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. You wanted to tell him on your own terms. Not involuntarily during climax.

You’re embarrassed beyond belief, wanting to take it back but know you can’t because it’s true. The words linger in the air, your heart pounding as the silence progressively becomes deafening. It’s torture sitting in silence as the seconds go by. You’d think that he would have at least something to say, but he’s got nothing.

Just when you’re about to leave, He slowly smiles, a full on grin appearing on his face. And before you can say anything, he’s pinning you back down against the couch, peppering your face in kisses and you can’t stop yourself from giggling.

“I love you too,” he says before going in for a kiss on your lips. His slot between yours and this is nothing like the other kisses you’ve shared tonight. It’s as if you’re pouring out all of your feelings for each other into it.

His hands find yours and he threads his fingers through yours, giving them a gentle squeeze as he kisses you with everything that he has, like he’s trying to communicate exactly how he feels through his kisses.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmurs against your lips. “Wanted you for so long.“

“I feel the exact same way,” you reply as he pulls away. “I love you, Igor. I really do. I-I wasn’t just saying that because of the orgasm.”

“I know you weren’t. Now come on, let’s get cleaned up and into bed.”

He moves your arms so they wrap around his neck so he can help carry you to the bathroom. He turns on the water for the two of you, and you both shower together. It starts off innocently enough, but soon enough he’s kneeling down in front of you. He’s kissing down your abdomen and hooking your leg over his shoulder so he can eat you out as you rest your back against the wall of the shower.

He’d have stayed there for hours if you’d let him. You were already so sensitive from your first orgasm, but he’s able to pull you apart with his tongue before you feel completely spent. He works his tongue through your folds, and his lips suck on your clit until you're squirming. He’s moaning under you and you’re amazed how he’s just as into this as you are. He coaxes a second orgasm from you, happily working you through it. He helps you clean up and then he grabs towels for the both of you.

His hands never leave your body, helping guide you to your bedroom. He’s been over enough times to know exactly what drawer your favorite pajamas are in. He knows to grab your most worn shirt and your softest pair of pajama pants. He helps you get dressed before grabbing his sweats that you’ve stolen and have amongst your clothes.

When he slides into bed next to you, you immediately cuddle up to his side and you rest your head on his chest. Your body slots against his so perfectly. He wraps his arms around you, tugging you closer so your flush against him. He kisses your forehead, your nose, your lips, mumbling how much he loves you until you’re both asleep.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Let it Simmer

line cook!Igor x waitress!reader

You and Igor work at a diner together and you have no idea that he’s just as head over heels for you as you are for him.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) public sex, mention of blood, xenophobia, reader almost passes out

This is once again in collaboration with @the-witty-pen-name!! Go check her out if you haven’t already!

You open the back door to the diner, hurrying to clock in as you tie your apron. Your earbuds are blasting your playlist that’s supposed to pump you up, but it doesn’t seem to be working. Today just doesn’t seem to be your day.

Not only was your shift at the grocery store down the street cut two hours but also one of your contacts fell down the drain so you were forced to wear your glasses that you only put on at the end of the day. They aren’t meant for anyone to see.

You hide your face as you hear one of your coworkers moving around the kitchen. You know who it is just by the footsteps and don’t want him to see you like this. It’s embarrassing, the big frames sitting on your face like that.

Just your luck, he passes by to head to the sink which just happens to be right by the clock on station. He’s washing his hands and turns to you to give you his signature warm smile.

He stays looking at you while he washes his hands and you turn away, feeling your cheeks heat. You’ve been crushing on him for months and now you’re concerned that he doesn’t feel that way about you. Not that it’d be easy to tell anyway since he’s a man of few words.

He’s so hard to read and it both fascinates and frustrates you. He seems so mysterious which is hot, but at the same time, you just want to get to know him but he doesn’t really seem to want to open up to you.

All you really want to know is whether or not he’d like to get dinner but you can’t get yourself to ask. There’s something about him that’s unapproachable and intimidating but you think that for whatever reason, he wants to seem that way.

He finishes washing his hands as you put on your apron, making sure all of the proper things are inside and just when you think he’s going to head back to his station, he continues to look at you, pointing at his face and giving you a thumbs up.

“My glasses?” You ask and he nods with an adorable smirk.

“Yes. Very…ugh.” You notice that he gets frustrated easily when he can’t remember English words. His face lights up, though, when he does remember. “Pretty.” Is all he says before turning on his heel to head back to the stove.

Pretty? He thinks you’re pretty. You already know you’re going to think about this for days. The word replaying in your head in his adorable accent. You hate this. Having a crush on someone who barely even pays you any mind. He pays you the smallest compliment that means the world to you while he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it. Sometimes you wish he would just tell you to fuck off so you could get over him.

His back is to you now, so you can’t see the smile that’s spread across his face. You can’t see the nervousness he feels, trying to come across as nonchalant. He doesn’t let himself say anything further- you’re at work, and he doubts you want to be hit on in the middle of your shift. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He assumes any advance would be unwelcome- he doesn’t want to be that guy. The line cook who hits on one of the servers. But god, does he want to ask you out.

He will never admit it, but seeing you is what he looks forward to most when he comes back to work each night. He needs to hide the blush that forms on his face when you ring in a ticket with just a smiley face, your own way of subtly asking for an order of free fries. He always obliges, he could never say no. The way your eyes light up when he hands you the plate? He’ll never get sick of it. He’ll sneak you as many free fries as you want.

He’ll also never admit that he thinks about you even when he’s not at work. You take up every inch of his brain and he finds himself thinking about what you’d be doing if you were right next to him. When he makes dinner for himself and his grandmother every night, he wonders if you’d like the dishes. If you’d make conversation with her like you do with all of your coworkers. Giggling at something funny you’d say because you always seem to make yourself laugh. He really likes that about you.

And maybe sometimes he lies awake at night because all he can think about is what it would feel like to have you wrapped up in his arms. He wants to bury his face into your neck and breathe in your scent, holding you close to assure that he’s not dreaming. What he would give to be able to do unspeakable things to you, to have you in every position imaginable as he-

“Igor!” He hears a voice, one of the other line cooks calling his name and from the way it’s spoken, he can tell it’s been said many times. He turns to Aubrey and she’s holding his hand, blood dripping from his middle finger. Well, that’s the last time he daydreams while chopping vegetables.

“I’ll clean this up, you go get cleaned up.” His mind is fuzzy as he nods, holding his finger as tight as he can, trying his best to not watch the blood. He’s never liked looking at it. It makes him feel sick, woozy. So he hurries to the sink as fast as he can to wash his hands yet again.

The cut is deep and he can’t even see if he’s washed off all of the blood because he just can’t look at it. The whole thing makes him sick to his stomach and he even goes as far as closing his eyes, shutting them tight because the soap is burning.

He knows that he probably (definitely) looks stupid, but he can’t help it. It’s not like you’re just going to waltz in and help him, even though that’s what he really wants. He wants you to baby him, knowing that will make him feel better.

As if you sense Igor’s need for you, you enter the kitchen, standing right next to the sink as you grab some lemons for one of the tables, cursing under your breath about how rude they were to you. You happen to catch sight of Igor as you pass and let out a chuckle at how goofy he looks, his eyes shut tight as he faces you. He’s always so serious so it’s amusing to see him like this.

“What are you doing?” You ask and his eyes are wide open and he gasps, stepping away from you, clearly in his own little world, having no idea that you were standing so close to him.

“Washing my hands,” he replies, pressing himself against the wall and you catch sight of his finger that has a huge chunk missing.

“Igor,” you gasp and reach for his hand, bringing his middle finger closer to your face so that you can get a better look at it. “What happened?”

“I cut it.”

“Yeah, no shit. But how?”

“Was too caught in my head and I chopped my finger instead of carrot.”

“Here, let me help you.” You keep holding his hand as you reach above you for the first aid kit. Once you have it, you set it on the sink and rifle through it before grabbing what you need. He sees you opening an alcohol pad and shakes his head furiously.

“No.” Is all he says and you feel bad for laughing but seeing this side of him is so goddamn adorable.

“Baby, we have to.” Baby, god. He’ll do whatever you want if you keep calling him that. He just slumps his shoulders and closes his eyes as he feels the wet cloth touch his skin, wincing at the feeling as you apologize again and again. “Okay, you can open your eyes. Bad part’s over.”

He does as you say even though you both know he doesn’t believe you then take some of the antibacterial gel and put it on the cut before wrapping it up in a bandaid. To finish it off, you press a kiss to it, watching his cheeks turn bright pink as you do so.

“Alright, you’re all set,” you pat his shoulder and turn on your heel like you didn’t do the one thing that’s going to live in his head rent free for the rest of his life. You kissed him. Well, his finger. But it still counts in his mind. And it even left behind some of your lipstick that he spent far too long staring at.

How can he go back to work after this? How can he move on after experiencing the sweetest thing that’s ever happened to him? He can’t believe that this is his life and that he actually exists at the same time as you. But of course he just has to crush on the girl who only flirts with him because it’s part of the job. Part of him wishes that it was genuine because then maybe he’d flirt back. But he supposes he should just stop complaining and take what he can get.

You grab your lemons and Igor is so close to asking for another kiss but decides against it. He’s still afraid of coming off like a creep and he doesn’t want to start now when he’s only gotten a sliver of what he’s been wanting for months. He’s wondering about just how much flirting he can get away with because he just wants you to know that this whole thing isn’t one sided.

Because after that you surely have to have feelings for him too, right? Not many people would do that kind of thing for him, but he’s wondering if he’s just reading too much into the interactions you’ve shared. The winks through the window, the fries, the little inside jokes you’ve made on occasion.

But he doesn’t do anything else, he just lets you walk back out as he goes back to chopping, trying his best to pay attention to his task so he doesn’t hurt himself again. He almost passed out at the sight of the blood so he’s sure he really would collapse if he saw more blood.

You head back out into the seating area feeling like such an idiot. Why did you kiss his finger? You were already crossing his boundaries by helping him without asking and then you let your want, your need to kiss him take over and settled for his finger instead of his lips. And now he probably thinks you’re a freak and you’re back to square one.

You wait on your tables and feel your cheeks burn as you bring your tickets to the window, not being able to look Igor in the eye. He must sense that you’re upset because you see him set a plate with a large pile of fries onto the counter and just by the size of the plate and the little ketchup smiley face on the edge of the plate, you just know that they’re for you.

You look up and he’s sporting his signature smirk as he flips the hamburger he’s got in his pan. You set them to the side and figure you’ll just eat them later even though they won’t be good. As much as you want to take your much deserved break, you know that Todd will look at the time clock and see that you clocked out for your lunch too early. So you just continue to serve your tables and try not to think about how hungry you are or when the last time you ate was.

You start to feel a little lightheaded but ignore it and try your best to ignore how much your stomach is growling. You have a job to do. But as you continue moving around the diner, you progressively get weaker, your legs feeling like jello.

When you come into the kitchen to get drinks for the table that just showed up, your knees buckle and Igor can immediately tell that you’re not feeling well. His current task is abandoned and he rounds the counter, heading for the drink station where you're standing. The drink you’re filling one of the cups with is overflowing and Igor quickly moves it to the side before turning you around to face him.

You almost look sick and just by hearing your stomach growl loudly, he immediately knows what you need. He picks you up and sets you on the counter since he knows you can’t stand then wordlessly hands you a bowl that’s filled with spaghetti. You’ve been talking about how you’ve been craving it for days and seeing that Igor went out of his way to make it for you makes you want to cry.

“Igor-”

“Thank me later. Eat.” He points to the bowl and you do as he says, slowly twirling the spaghetti around the fork before putting it into your mouth. He watches you look around for Todd, clearly on high alert until you feel Igor’s hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry about him.”

“Of course you would say that. He loves you, meanwhile he always wants to make my life a living hell.” Igor knows all about that and has had private conversations with Todd about you on multiple occasions, telling him to dial it back or else he’ll quit. But that never goes over well since Todd always waves him that it’s none of his business and then says something xenophobic that would definitely get him fired if anyone else heard him. But Igor refuses to let Todd get to him.

He doesn’t tell you that Todd actually tolerates Igor and only ever pats him on the back when you’re around because he knows just how important you are to the diner and all of the regulars. And if he loses you, he’s going to lose so much money. If it had been up to him, he would have fired Igor a long time ago.

You eat your spaghetti as Igor gets back to work, occasionally checking on you, his cheeks burning every time you compliment him, telling him that this is the best spaghetti you’ve ever had. His food gets complimented all the time but hearing it from you, it makes him feel all warm and gooey inside.

Being around you makes him feel like himself. Even though he’s hiding it from you, he still appreciates how warm and welcoming you are. You’re so sweet to him and always treat him like a normal person despite how much he struggles with English.

-

The next week, there’s two girls who take seats at the counter and you recognize them almost immediately. They had come in last weekend during a lunch rush and held up a table for hours and then didn’t leave you a tip. You try your best to put on your best customer service smile as you walk behind the counter with a couple of menus. You greet them politely and ask if you can get them drinks. You’re ignored so you say you’ll be back in a minute.

From across the dining room, you can see them huddled close together talking- giggling hushed whispers. You can’t prove it, but it’s one of those things that you can just tell immediately what they’re doing. The girl on the right, points to the kitchen and your gaze follows where she’s pointing. Your heart drops when you see they’re talking about Igor.

Irrational jealousy bubbles up inside you, not wanting this girl to be interested. You have no right to be upset. As far as you know, Igor is single and can date whoever he wants. It’s not really your business. However, it still stings. Returning back to them, you grab your drink orders and head back to get them their coffees.

“You have a fan club out there,” you joke to Igor, who you seem to have broken his own train of thought. His brow furrowed in confusion. “That girl,” you say, being discreet, “the one sitting at the counter with her friend- I think she’s into you.”

“Oh,” Igor says, monotone. He couldn’t have been more disinterested. He doesn’t even pay them any mind, continuing to prep the meals for another table. He’s completely in his own world when he’s focused in the kitchen.

You’re pleased when it seems like he doesn’t care, but then you worry that he’s just trying to play it cool. Maybe he is actually interested in her but doesn’t want to talk about it with you. You try your best to let it go, and try to not compare yourself to her.

“What’s his deal?” The girl asks you, biting her lip. It makes your stomach tie in knots. You want to slam the window of the kitchen shut so they can stop staring at him.

“The cook?” You ask, stuttering a little- surprised they’re asking you about him so directly. She nods, staring past you to look at him. You could scream.

“Mhm,” she muses.

“Um, I’m not really sure,” you say. “Do you guys want to order something to eat?”

“Him, preferably,” she jokes and you cringe as her friend giggles. When you don’t laugh, they just order some sandwiches and you ring in their ticket. When they leave, she leaves a note on the receipt, asking you to give him her number. Great.

“Here,” you say, trying to hide your hurt as you hand Igor the receipt paper. His eyes narrow as he doesn’t even notice the note at first.

“They tipped like shit,” he muses, sympathizing with you. He hates that people don’t always appreciate you or your work. He doesn’t even realize that you’re trying to show him something else. It’s been a long shift and he’s overtired.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, surprised- you hadn’t even thought to see what they had tipped. “No, but here,” you point to the note on the bottom. “It’s for you.”

Igor squints, trying to read the handwriting. His expression remains neutral. He shrugs, and crumbles it up and throws the note away. “You already rang it in right?” He asks, and you nod dumbly. “Then I don’t see the problem.”

“What about the number?” You ask, trying not to seem too happy that he tossed the receipts away without a care in the world.

“Who cares?” He shrugs. “It’s just a number and she’s not my type.”

“Then what is your type?” You’re surprised at how bold you’re being considering you’ve been more shy around him tonight.

“Why do you care?” He’s getting frustrated now because all he wants to do is go home and not have this weird back and forth with you. He can’t tell you that you’re his type.

“Oh, I don’t.” You’re both clocking out now and he stands next to you, patiently waiting for you to be done because the other screen is, of course, down yet again.

“Then why did you ask?” You know exactly why you asked but are too afraid to tell him. You don’t know why, though. Maybe telling him the truth would prevent the headache it’s caused you.

“I don’t know.” That’s all you’re able to say and then the two of you are silent as you head towards the back door, Igor making sure to lock up behind you before escorting you to your car. You pull your keys out of the purse then turn around to face Igor who’s still standing there, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

What’s stopping you from being honest? Sure, it may make things awkward between you, but at the same time, you’d rather have that than push down your feelings again and again.

So you step closer to him, tilting your head upwards to look him in the eye. He doesn’t know what you’re doing, but he likes being able to see your face up close. He loves being able to see every single detail and you’re cute little glasses. He thinks he prefers them.

“I like you,” you tell him, your heart now pounding in your chest. “I like you a lot and I know you probably don’t feel the same way-”

“Stop,” he puts his hand up and you’re so close to crying, terrified that he’s going to reject you and that your weird little friendship will be put to a stop. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Igor,” you roll your eyes. “We both know you don’t have feelings for me, so you can stop-” You’re not even able to finish your sentence because he’s got you pinned against the car, his body flush against yours as he presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

You gasp into his mouth but are quick to catch up, kissing him back with the same amount of longing and passion. It’s months of pent of feelings poured into the kiss, everything you’ve wanted to say but haven’t had the guts to.

He pulls away just a tad, his thumb running back and forth along your jaw. You just stare at him, almost dumbfounded by what just happened. You never thought this would ever be your reality so you just need a minute to sit with it.

“I hope that proved you wrong,” he whispers and you grab onto his hips, pulling him even closer.

“I don’t know, I think I need a little more,” you reply, pulling him in again for another kiss. This one is more gentle, slower, like you both are trying to savor it because you’re not sure when you’re going to share another one.

Igor pulls away again far too soon and presses his forehead against yours, trying to catch his breath again.

“Have dinner with me.” It’s less of a demand and more like him pleading. He wants this so badly, more than he’s ever wanted anything.

“Like a date?”

“Something like that,” he shrugs but you know what he means.

“Perfect. I’ll cook for you.” He’s never had your cooking so he’s looking forward to it.

“How about next week?” He’s trying to give you space. He doesn’t want to come on too strong.

“How about tomorrow?” He can’t help but smile at the fact that you can’t wait.

“We have to work,” you remind him and for a second, he completely forgot, just looking forward to seeing you outside of that tiny diner.

“After that.”

“It’s a date,” he winks and gives you one more kiss before turning on his heel and making his way towards his own vehicle, not being able to keep the smile off of his face because for once, he finally got the girl.

-

God why did you think you could do this? Sweat is making your hair stick to your forehead and your glasses keep fogging up as you glance into the pot trying to stir. The tutorial online made it look so easy, you thought this time you’d have luck and not burn something for once in your life. You’re up to your elbows in the mess you’ve made for yourself and you’re starting to feel defeated.

Igor told you so many anecdotes of his grandmother teaching him how to cook as he was growing up. You wanted to make something really special, so you tried to look up one of the meals he’d mentioned in passing. The blog made it seem somewhat doable but now you’re not so sure as you're fanning a towel above your head to prevent the smoke detector from going off.

You hear the buzzer go off. He’s here. Fuck. Reluctantly, you hurry over to the box on the wall to open the front door for him. You wipe your forehead and glance back over to the mess in your kitchen. You feel like you could cry. This is not at all how you imagined tonight would go at all. You knew it wouldn’t be perfect- but at least edible would have sufficed.

When you answer the door, Igor immediately can tell you’re holding back tears. Without even needing to ask he places the flowers he brought you on your entry table and takes your hands. He looks so concerned and it’s so endearing that it’s enough to make one of the tears fall, despite your best attempt to hold them back.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, scanning your face to make sure you’re not hurt. He steps over the threshold and he can smell the burnt smell coming from your kitchen.

“I’m so sorry,” you say meekly as he surveys the kitchen. The messily chopped onions, the open bottle of wine, the spilled can of tomato paste, the burnt lamb you tried to grill… when he realizes what you’re doing, it makes his heart flip.

“Were you making Khorovats?” He asks, unable to hold back his smile. You nod, not able to meet his eye. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you against his chest. No one has ever done something this thoughtful and despite not having dinner, he feels like the absolute luckiest guy in the world. His first task is to comfort you, and he rubs your back. He reaffirms that everything is okay.

“Hey, hey,” he says gently, tilting your chin up to look at him. You take a few shaky breaths as your eyes meet his. “You’re… you’re wonderful,” he whispers and then kisses your lips softly- just a small peck. “Let me help you.”

He guides you over to one of the stools by your kitchen island and has you take a seat. Like he’s been to your apartment a million times before, he finds the wine glasses with ease and pours you a glass. You watch him maneuver around your kitchen effortlessly, and he’s able to salvage something from the ingredients you hadn’t used yet.

“I really wanted to cook for you,” you say defeatedly, as you calm down. He’s always cooking at work, and you wanted to cook for him- so he wasn’t for once. Yet, here he is, on your first date doing the one thing you wanted to give him a break from. He just looks back at you, with a smile on his face.

“You’re cute,” he says, sincerely. It makes your face feel so flushed and you feel butterflies in your stomach at his compliment. It’s so simple, but it’s coming from him. You finally let yourself enjoy the moment, and watch him as he seems to throw everything together so effortlessly.

“No one has done this for me,” he continues, gesturing to the messy kitchen. To him, as much as you're embarrassed, it’s just a sign of your effort and hard work. You did all of this- found the recipe, bought the ingredients, prepared them as best you could for him. He’s just so touched by the gesture regardless of the outcome. He can’t even remember telling you about this dish, but you remembered. “It’s amazing,” he marvels.

“I literally almost set my apartment on fire,” you say, hiding your face in your hands. It makes him chuckle.

“Come on,” he insists, “give yourself some credit.”

He puts a plate together for you and you thank him. The two of you move to your small dining table, and he notices you set up with some tapered candles, like a fancy restaurant would. Everything you’ve done to try to make the night perfect just makes his heart swell. He finds you so sweet.

For so long, Igor was convinced that he was destined to be alone and just when he was giving up on love completely, you swept him off his feet, making him feel like he never has before. You’re one of the only people who truly understands him, who lets him be himself and for the first time in his life, he doesn’t feel like he has to wear his mask.

-

You and Igor are closing with each other yet again. It’s been the third night this week and you’re nothing but happy about it, always looking forward to getting even more alone time with your new boyfriend. You can’t believe it. He’s your boyfriend now. You thought you’d spend the rest of your time at the diner pining for him and when he kissed you in the parking lot, you were sure that you were dreaming for just a second. It wasn’t until he put his lips on yours that you realized that it was all real.

And now that you’re alone, he’s not shy about being affectionate as you wipe down the counters together. And maybe the entire thing takes you a little too long because of all of the giggling and kissing but it’s not like anyone is there to stop you. Everyone including Todd went home hours ago and now you’re sitting on the counter, Igor standing in between your legs as he kisses you like hasn’t been doing just that the moment the two of you were alone.

His hands are sliding up your bare thighs, getting under your uniform as he licks into your mouth, leaning forward as you lie back against the counter. You moan into his mouth and as his tongue moves against yours, your hands grabbing onto his shirt. He kisses his way down to your neck, your exposed chest, slowly, gently unzipping your uniform as his lips find yours again.

His hand slips into your uniform, giving one of your breasts a squeeze and you whine as he does so, caught off guard by the feeling. But it feels so good. You wonder if it’s just because you haven’t been touched by him in so long but you know it’s really because it’s him and he always seems to know what you want without even having to ask.

“So fucking pretty,” he says through ragged breaths.

“You haven’t even-seen me naked,” you suck in a breath that break up your sentence as he bites down on your neck.

“Doesn’t matter.” His breath is hot on your skin but you can still feel goosebumps rising on your arms. “You’re always pretty.” He bites down again and your nails dig into his back as you let out another moan, your panties now absolutely drenched.

He’s unbuckling his pants in a flash as you remove your underwear, neither of you even thinking about proper protection, but just wanting, needing to have him inside of you or you’re sure you’re both going to explode.

You don’t even get the chance to see his cock before it slides inside, the loudest moan falling from your lips at the sheer size of him. It hurts so bad because of your inactivity, but it also just feels so good.

He’s pumping hard and fast, making the metal counter shake back and forth, the legs knocking loudly against the floor, the whole thing squeaking as it moves, but neither of you seem to care, too engrossed in each other to even pay attention.

“Fuck,” you whine as he’s progressively getting further inside, inch by inch, practically tearing you apart. Your legs wrap around his waist as you pull his shirt off, needing to get your hands on his bare skin. You need to scratch it up to show him exactly what he’s doing to you.

He pushes everything aside as he lays you down onto the counter, vegetables now inedible and various condiment bottles and spices now spilled out all over the floor, but Igor doesn’t care. Being here with you, having you spread on the counter like an all-you-can eat buffet is so going to be worth whatever is going to be taken out of his paycheck.

Your uniform is fully open now, the zipper of it clicking against the counter as Igor continues to fuck into you, his nails digging into your thighs, making tiny crescent shapes that you know will stay there for days. You don’t seem to mind, though. He can make you bleed for you all you care. You just want him to continue to make you feel this good.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, his hands now pinning your arms to the counter. “Look at you, taking me-all of me so well.”

You’re close, you can already feel it. It’s climbing but you don’t want him to stop. He’s doing this so well, making you feel like no one else has. He knows exactly what you want-what you need without even having to ask.

“Fuck,” you moan even louder and Igor watches you proudly, a smug smirk making its way upon his face at the mess he’s made of you. With how blissed out you look, he’s already wondering what excuse he’s going to have you both make in order to not have to work tomorrow.

“That’s it,” he says, his voice gentle, soft, almost a whisper. “Just like that, baby.” You’re coming down from your orgasm and he’s worn out, not only from this, but also the shift. He pulls out and pulls up his pants before hurrying over to the sink to get a warm wash cloth before cleaning you up. Your uniform is covered in unspeakable stains so Igor politely loans you his shirt, promising to let you wash it as his place where the two of you inevitably end up.

You’ve never been to his house, always winding up at your place, snuggled up on the couch. You’re giggling as you walk through the door, not even bothering to be quiet and it’s not until one of the lights in the kitchen flicks on there remembers that he doesn’t live alone.

He’s quick to stand in front of you, covering you with his body so his grandmother doesn’t see that you’re wearing his t-shirt and boxers. His cheeks are bright red as she stands on the other side of the kitchen, tsking and shaking her head before turning around to head back to her room, saying something to him in Armenian that you clearly don’t understand.

“What did she say?” You ask and Igor just waves it off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, picking you up since he knows you can’t get up the stairs in your condition. “Let’s go to bed.”

Igor carries you up the stairs as if it’s nothing and you’re beginning to think that you’ve underestimated just how strong he is. Of course you wouldn’t know that with his job, but now you’re wondering what he does when he’s not there. How often he goes to the gym, his workout routine. And now you’re getting wet all over again thinking about him lifting weights, sweat rolling down his biceps.

His room is exactly what you imagined. It’s just a bed and his furniture. There’s no decorations or anything that tells you anything about him. But you kind of like it that way. It’s very…Igor.

He helps you into the bed, pulling back the blanket and sheet for you and you slip in, making yourself comfortable as he goes to the other side and gets in, scooting close to you. You turn over on your side and he pulls you to his chest, giving you a squeeze before pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Goodnight,” you say, going in for one more kiss and he just smiles into it.

“Goodnight,” he replies before falling into the best sleep he’s ever had.

-

The next morning, Igor wakes up and you’re not there. He reaches out and runs his hand along your side and it’s cold, meaning that you’ve been up for a while. He gets up and checks the bathroom, but you’re not there. He doesn’t know why, but he’s panicking that you’re not there, hoping that you didn’t leave him in the middle of the night.

But he immediately relaxes when he hears shuffling in the kitchen. He slowly makes his way down the stairs and his heart swells when he hears laughter as he enters the kitchen. You’re sitting at the table with his grandmother, the two of you chatting over breakfast. His face breaks out into a full-on grin when he hears the two of you laughing loudly, heads throwback, expressing nothing but pure joy.

“Igor,” she waves him over from where he’s standing, leaning against the doorframe. “сидеть,” [“sit”] she gestures to the chair that’s across from hers. He makes his way over and stands behind you, pressing a kiss to your cheeks, his hands giving your shoulders a squeeze before he sits at the table.

“You didn’t wake me,” he tells you, the worry back on his face.

“I’m sorry. You just looked so peaceful. And you were snoring so I didn’t think I should.” He feels like his heart is going to burst at how sweet you are to him.

“Don’t apologize. I was just worried.”

“Aww.” You reach over and pinch his cheek which seems to make his grandmother laugh.

“она мне нравится,” [“I like her”] she says, looking back and forth between the two of you. “она хороша для тебя.” [“She is good for you”] “ты кажешься счастливее.” [“You seem happier”]

“я счастливее,” [“I am happier”] he replies, resting his hand on top of yours, his eyes lighting up as he puts on a warm smile.

“Я тоже счастлив,” [“I’m happy too”] you speak up and Igor’s eyes widen. In the entire time that you’ve known him, he’s never heard you speak Russian, didn’t even know that you were fluent.

“You know Russian?” He asks, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“I-well, I learned it to be able to speak to you, but then got too nervous because I got insecure about my accent.” It’s at this moment that Igor is sure that he’s in love with you. That’s the only word he can think of to describe what he’s feeling. No one has ever done anything like that for him and knowing that you were willing to learn his language in order just to speak to him shows him that maybe you love him right back.

“я тебя люблю,” [“I love you”] he says, leaning forward, not even caring that his grandmother is watching because he just really needs to kiss you.

“я люблю тебя еще больше,” [“I love you more”] you reply as he presses his lips to yours, both of you smiling into the kiss before pulling away, nothing but love for each other in your eyes.

“Мое кольцо будет наверху, когда ты будешь готова выйти замуж,” [“My ring is upstairs when you’re ready to get married”] his grandmother comments and the three of you laugh even though you all know there’s a hint of seriousness in your tone.

You spend the rest of the day at his house, the three of you migrating to the couch where they both teach you how to crochet, his grandmother’s Russian program playing on the tv softly in the background.

You don’t go home until after she’s already in bed and even though Igor is going to see you tomorrow at work, he just doesn’t want to say goodbye. You haven’t been together long, but he’s always missing you when you’re not with him and he’s so close to asking you to move in with him. He knows for a fact that his grandmother wouldn’t mind and she even pressures him to ask when he brings up the idea. He asks you a week later and helps you move your stuff in the day after, the two of you so excited to start this next chapter of your lives together.

[femalefemur]

18+ minors do not interact!

warnings: corpse reanimation, grave defiling, please let me know if i missed anything!

ummm, johnny and reader as dr frankenstein and igor respectively. who meet in a twist of fate as johnny is exiting the auditorium where his medical lecture was held and reader is going in.

expression furious as they start arguing with the professor before they've even entered the auditorium which intrigues johnny so he stays and listens to their rant. gathering that they deemed the mark on their assignment as below what they should have received, listening to them explain the complexities of their work before storming out again in a fit.

and johnny rushing after them, calling out to them and complimenting their work, telling them that agrees that their grade should have been higher and asks if they'd like to come to his laboratory slash apartment.

an unlikely friendship striking between the two. both of them growing closer and closer until one night they lay drunk underneath the stars and johnny whispers to them in hushed tones that he has a new experiment he wants to work on, one that would push the boundaries of science and change the meaning of life.

the glint in his eye and the way his flushes in excitement intriguing reader, the both of them stumbling back to his apartment.

all the doors and windows closed tight before johnny finally starts to explain, pulls out his notes and shows them to reader, tells them he can reanimate the dead, watching as reader's eyes grow wide and fill with the same excitement as his.

they work tirelessly over the months on formulas, chemical tests, hone their already excellent surgery techniques into a fine tuned machine before they finally start collecting the pieces to create their modern prometheus as they named him.

digging in fresh graves late at night when there's only owls and insect chirps for company until all his body parts finally assembled.

they use the power of the lightning in the storm to fuel their work, to give their prometheus his fire until he jolts with life, sucking in a deep ragged breath through his scarred lips as if he is inhaling life itself.

he stands tall, eyes perpetually drooped half closed as if he'd fall asleep any moment, the places where he had been stitched together until his body healed permanently scarred, his dirty blond hair cropped and his nose slightly crooked. his height was taller than the average human and his muscles too seemed otherworldly.

sometimes they would catch his eye and it would feel as though time itself had stopped. that they were there on the precipice of death with the grim reaper who had his hand ever creeping towards their throat and then the feeling would disappear, as if there had been nothing at all but a silly fleeting thought.

perhaps it was their punishment for what they had created, their prometheus lived in fire and soon they would be burned in the flames.

[fnck-fac3]

I… I feel things about this man… things that if I say out loud I would probably be in a psych ward…