#i did not proofread this bc i gotta go to bed in an hour lmao sry i'll edit any mistakes tomorrow at work!

[someotherdog]

for / @despetitsecrits participants / ingrid & your choice of muse! story / it's a few months after the outbreak, and ingrid has been mostly surviving on her own. your muse stumbles upon her one day and she tries to seem like a tough bitch, but her façade is rather weak and unconvincing. setting / an abandoned pharmacy in a small town in rural new york!

ingrid still couldn’t believe this was her life. gone were the days of running around the manhattan law firm she worked at for the last five years, trying to impress partners that never seemed to remember her name and always looked through her instead of at her. at the time, she supposed it was understandable—her coworkers were usually from blue blooded families that all attended the same ivy league university for generations, while she had much more humble beginnings—but now months on the other side of society’s collapse, it made her retroactively angry. it made her angry for the woman that she had been, so small in actuality when she felt so gigantic back then. she, little ingrid sergeant from wyoming, working in a big city law firm and rubbing elbows with the elite! her high school classmates must have felt so jealous, knowing ingrid left their one-horse town for the bright lights of new york and made real money now. sure, she was unmarried without kids and barely had time to brush her hair, but she had made it. yes, she swallowed the disrespect from the partners and the uninterested stares of her coworkers, but she had reached her goals. she was a lawyer. she had made it out of wyoming. she had won.

it was all bullshit in the end. rather, none of it mattered in the end. people all died in the same way now: in pain, bloodied, far too soon. the end blindsided everyone, arriving unceremoniously and without ingrid even knowing until it was too late. one morning, she was getting off the subway to go to work, and by that evening, the world had ended. ingrid had been lucky to make it out of new york city alive. now, she traversed western new york by herself, because anyone she came across post-outbreak either died or left her for dead. it was harder to survive by herself, but perhaps for the best. the worst part was that she was aimless. her whole adult life existed in the borough of manhattan, but she didn’t have many friends and she hadn’t been close to her family in years. the only place she could think to go was her mother’s home back in cheyenne, but that was almost two thousand miles away; a lot of dead, a lot of danger, laid in between. that plan all hinged on the assumption that her mother was even still alive, which as much as it pained her, ingrid didn’t think was likely. if she barely survived, how the fuck would cassandra sergeant fair? no, there was little hope of finding anything worthwhile in wyoming, so ingrid just… wandered. in search of a purpose. in search of a reason to continue on.

that search brought her to a small town that she didn’t recognize the name of, because the only part of the state of new york that had mattered to her had been manhattan. it had been scarce of people and undead since she arrived a few days prior, and she had made herself a temporary home out of a dentist’s office—it was secluded, had an appropriate amount of exits, and had some medical supplies that would benefit her in the long run. it didn’t have everything, though, and ingrid found herself in need of food and water. that led her to a nearby pharmacy that hadn’t been entirely picked clean. fifteen minutes into stuffing her backpack full of granola bars and poptarts, she suddenly became aware of another’s presence. she froze, hand hovering above the shelf in front of her. from the fact that they hadn’t immediately lunged for her, she had to hope they weren’t undead. she gulped dryly, eyes turning towards them slowly. her voice dropped several decibels in an effort to seem intimidating. to seem stronger than she was. “g… get back. this is my aisle.” her other hand moved down to her belt for the hunting knife she found at the start of the outbreak. it had become her security blanket, though she had yet to use it against another human. “i—i just want these, then i’ll leave. so, uh, stay the f-fuck back.”

[theranskahovs]

Rapture *Sergei x Reader*

Warnings: just a long fic about Sergei worshipping his gf bc uhhh why not?

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: this is a continuation of {THIS} fic. almost every Sergei fic is just part of a long chain lmao. also used a lot of prompts from THIS list. (I didn’t proofread this much so sorry if there’s mistakes)

•••

Anticipation had been building in you all day- you couldn’t wait to get home. In the morning, Sergei promised a surprise for you later in the night. From the smirk on his face and the teasing look in his eye, you guessed it was something sexual. He’d only gotten back from his work trip the night before, but it was so late neither of you wanted to do much besides go to sleep.

Then, a few hours before you got off work he texted you. You assumed it was something general, but what met your eyes was, “Tonight’s all about you. You’ll lose count of how many times you cum.”

When you read it your jaw dropped a slight bit. It took you a second before you came up with a response, “That’s quite a big promise.”

Since you got his text you started thinking about what he had planned, and all the things he’d do to you. If he didn’t fulfill by the end of the night you’d be pretty disappointed- you still had a few hours until you saw him and you were already turned on.

It felt like you were counting down the hours, then the minutes until you could go home. Excitement was bubbling in your stomach when you walked through the front door.

Once you set your bag down and take your shoes off, Sergei asks you to come to him. He’s sitting on the couch and you perch on his lap, giving him a quick kiss. “Close your eyes, hands out,” he tells you.

You do, and a light weight is placed on them. When you open your eyes, it’s a small bag from an elegant boutique you’ve only heard about. Everything in the store is a few hundred dollars past extravagant.

Your eyes meet his and your head tilts in silent confirmation of did he actually do this? “Don’t give me that look. It’s nothing,” he says with a modest shrug.

Lightly you move aside the tissue paper, thinking even that’s gotta be expensive. You reach in the bag and pull out soft material. It’s delicate-looking lace lingerie in your favorite color and style. You look up at your boyfriend again with a gasp of his name. “It’s so beautiful, thank you!” You say, giving him a big hug.

He grins, “Go see how it fits. Then meet me in the bedroom.”

You get off his lap after kissing him again, and he pats your butt as you get up. In the bathroom your finger traces the dainty lace. You send off a quick prayer that it fits, because you’d hate to rip something as costly as your rent payment.

Carefully you slip into the expensive underwear. You’re relieved that it fits almost perfectly. With a smile you admire yourself in the bathroom mirror, enjoying how confident it makes you feel to be wearing such an extravagant garment.

You make your way back to the bedroom and pause in the doorway. There’s tealights and other dim lights spread around, including various strings of fairy lights from around the apartment, a Himalayan salt lamp and other small candles. There’s the petals of a few roses on the bed. You step into the room, admiring Sergei’s work.

“You look amazing.” You jump, startled.

“Is it an anniversary or something?” You ask cautiously, thinking it’s all a bit exorbitant, but not in a bad way.

“It doesn’t have to be anniversary for me to treat you.” He takes your hand, spinning you around slowly to see your full body in his gift. The love in his eyes makes you want to hug him and thank him again, but the lust in his eyes tells you you’re going to be in for a long night.

He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you down too, so you’re straddling his leg. His hand presses on the small of your back, pushing you closer to him. You close your eyes and tilt your head up, meeting him in an ardorous kiss. It’s slow and sensual and has you anticipating any small touch.

The hand on your back encourages you to move, so you get into an unhurried rhythm of rocking back and forth on his leg. The muscle tenses as you let out a soft moan- after being wound up all day finally you’re getting some release.

You circle your hips, grinding your clit onto him. His jeans are rough where your thighs meet them, but it feels like heaven on your center.

You palm his cock through his jeans, but he bats it away. “No, I’m supposed to be making you feel good.”

Sergei’s fingers dip into your folds, just light enough to collect some wetness but not enough to press against anywhere you want him to. “You’re already dripping and I haven’t even touched you, princess.”

The way he says it makes it sound like an admonishment, and your cheeks flush. He presses sloppy kisses across your neck, sucking at that tender spot. You try to push him back to lie down, but he won’t let you. “You’re cumming for first time tonight on my thigh. No arguing.”

You didn’t have any argument in you. His hands are heavy on your hips as you grind against him. One of your hands rests on his shoulder and the other wrapps around his neck. It’s an oddly intimate position for the way he’s fully clothed and you’re only fucking yourself on his leg.

With every movement a zap of electricity shoots through your clit, making its way down your legs and to the pit of your stomach. You cry out as you cum, the pent up arousal making your first orgasm quick and easy to achieve.

Your thighs shake around Sergei’s leg, and he grips your waist to support you. There’s a wet spot under you, both soaking through your panties and Sergei’s jeans, tinting them a darker blue.

Without warning he picks you up and tosses you down on the bed so you’re laying on your back. You move your hair out of your face as he hovers over you, looking deep into your eyes.

The rose petals are smooth under your skin, and for a split second you worry they’ll stain the light bedsheets. Any care you have for it goes away when Sergei grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger and warns you, “Don’t cum until I say so. Alright?”

You nod, licking your lips. His next touch is a stark contrast to his strict warning, it’s a gentle tracing of your collarbone and down to your nipple. “Lift up,” he tells you, so he can unclasp your bra. Once he gets it off he sets it on the nightstand, and you’re relieved he didn’t rip it in haste.

His head dips to your chest, and he starts pressing kisses and dragging his tongue over all the newly revealed skin. Once your nipples are peaked and your breath speeds up, he moves down your stomach.

Once he gets low enough he spreads your legs. His calloused hands drag along the insides of your thighs, followed by his mouth. He nips at the soft skin, and his stubble grazes it as well. It might just be your favorite feeling.

He presses a kiss to your center over your underwear, and again to your clit. You can feel it through the holes in the lace, and it takes everything in you to not arch your hips into his face.

Leisurely he pulls your panties down your legs, at the pace of a snail. The air of the room hits your core. Even though you’ve done this many times with Sergei, you fight against the urge to close you legs. He smiles up at you, squeezing your thigh encouragingly as he drapes your leg over his shoulder. “You have prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

You chuckle, too embarrassed to say anything. His fingers dance across your mound, then your lips, never quite ending up in the middle. His lips follow the same path, and then he blows on your clit. “Don’t keep me waiting, Sergei,” you say, bordering on a beg.

He makes eye contact with you as his tongue darts across your slit. Your head tilts back and your eyes close, finally you’re getting somewhere.

His tongue flicks across your clit, probably writing the Cyrillic alphabet. Arousal has already begun to pool in the pit of your stomach again; without thinking you circle your hips slowly, trying to get more friction.

Sergei’s hand grips your thigh roughly as your fingers tug on his short hair. “You taste like fucking candy,” he praises, not pulling back much from your pussy. The vibrations go straight to your clit and you groan.

He continues with his light licks, not touching you too much. You try not to suffocate him with your legs each time he laps at your clit extra hard or fast.

Every single movement feels amplified, you’re so turned on and excited that everything is more intense. A familiar warmth is rushing through your core. Sergei sucks your clit roughly and you’re gone, sparks shooting through your body with a ragged moan.

Your chest is still heaving when he slaps the inside of your thigh. You flinch at the sudden touch, and he’s looking up at you with steely eyes. “Did I say you could cum?”

He’s using his reprimanding voice, and you shake your head slightly, still coming down. “If you wanted to cum to bad, you should’ve said so.”

Without warning, Sergei flicks your clit and you let out a sharp gasp. He spits on his fingers, and shoves two in, not giving you a second to adjust. His head dips down again to suck on your clit. Your hands grip at the bedsheets, crushing rose petals between your fingers as you ball the comforter in your fists.

“Sergei!” You gasp, followed by a litany of high pitched wails.

He continues fucking you with his fingers, while trying to press your leg back against the bed. His “punishment” feels more like euphoric torture as your spent body speeds towards another orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck!” You scream. You’re starting to notice that the more orgasms you have, the more intense they get. It’s like each time you’re climbing a flight of stairs, and now you’re nearing the roof of the building.

A light sheen of sweat is building on your chest, it’s taking so much out of you to cum so often in under 45 minutes.

Your walls clench around his fingers as he works you through it. But when you’re done, he doesn’t stop. “Wh- wait-“

“No. You wanted to cum, so now you will.”

His fingers curl to meet your g-spot, and he hits it fast and rough. The sounds are sinful, but you’re trying not to pass out from the pleasure. Your back arches off the bed and he presses his idle hand against your stomach, keeping you from moving. You try to squirm away from him- you’re too sensitive, it’s all too much. Your hand rests atop his on your stomach. You squeeze it, unsure if your silent plea is one of halting or not stopping.

You pick your head up to look at him, and he’s already looking at you. You take in how fast his arm is moving as he’s finger fucking you, and the way his mouth is glistening with your wetness, his stubbly beard damp.

You didn’t think this orgasm was any different than the rest, if not a lot stronger. It hit you like a wave, akin to the tumultuous ocean crashing against a seaside cliff. Abrupt, intense, and jarring. You squeeze your eyes shut, seeing floaters. You weren’t even sure if you made any sounds.

It takes you a minute to come back, and then you realize the sheets are wet against your ass. Sergei’s rubbing your leg soothingly as you open your eyes. Your mouth gapes as you realize his shirt is soaked and so are the sheets.

“Did I just squirt?” You ask in amazement.

He nods, a big grin on his face. “Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

His fingers comfortingly draw lines at the apex of your leg, spreading the drops of moisture. He sucks on your inner thigh, leaving a mark. He’s letting you take your time coming down from your peak.

He crawls up the bed, hovering over you as he kisses up your neck. When he gets to your lips, it’s a slow and passionate kiss radiating love. His wet stubble scratches your cheek.

Sergei’s hips press into yours as he lingers above you. Your limbs feel heavy and unbalanced. He sits up on his knees to discard his damp shirt, then the rest of his clothes.

He has you flip over onto your stomach. The rose petals feel cold against your flushed skin, and the sheet sticks to your leg. A few of the tealights burned out, but the room isn’t any dimmer.

You let out a whimper as he presses in. He groans once he’s fully immersed in you. Sergei moves at a leisurely pace, knowing you’ve been through a lot in the past hour.

He moves your hair off your back and kisses your neck tenderly. His hands caress your waist as he speeds up. You have a feeling you won’t be cumming again, but it’s almost a relief. Anything more would just be too intense.

Sergei pulls your hips off the bed, coaxing you to get on your knees. Your body is too tired to even try getting up on your elbows. Sergei lets out a quiet, “Fuck,” as you push your ass back against him.

His hands grip your hips, pulling you back into him as much as he’s thrusting forward into you. Sergei spanks you, but not as hard as it would be if it was a punishment.

You grab a pillow to put under your your hips to prop them up. Sergei’s beginning to fuck you faster and with more fervor. It feels better to not focus on cumming again, it’s making you enjoy the moment more than hoping for the end goal.

Sergei’s thrusts start to get less precise after a few minutes. With a deep groan he pulls out suddenly, and seconds later you feel the warm cum hit your back.

You drop your knees to the bed so you’re laying flat again and take some deep breaths. You grab the pillow from under you and move it to your head. A sigh is muffled as you press your face into the soft down feathers. You’re too spent to focus on looking for clothes or cleaning up, hoping Sergei’s on it.

Thankfully he is. He returns with a towel and wipes off your back and legs for you. He tosses you a clean shirt of his. It lands on you, but you don’t move to put it on. Sergei leans over the bed and rubs your back, “C’mon, you gotta get up.”

You make a sound of protest, only turning your head to look at him. “I need to wash comforter. Up.” He tickles your side until you take his hand and he pulls you up. He holds the shirt as you put it on.

You wrap your arms around him, pressing the side of your face against his chest. “Wash them later. I want you to hold me.”

“Alright.” He concedes, letting you pull him back down on the bed, cuddling close into his side. “How many times did you cum?”

“I- I don’t even know. Four, five?” All you knew was that it was a lot, and the best thing you’ve felt in a while.

He smirks down at you, “I kept my promise.”