pathologicroundrobin | Pathologic Kink Meme!

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Pathologic Kink Meme!

Hello, welcome to the Pathologic Kink Meme! WARNING: This one is NSFW!

Please make anonymous prompts for things you would like to see, or anonymously fulfill prompts by creating stories, poetry, drawn art, music, or anything! I just want to say that this prompt meme is open to people of all skill levels, so have fun!

Some basic rules that were recommended to help out before we get started:

- This is the Pathologic Kink Meme, and it's NSFW! Please post any NSFW prompts or fills here. A good rule of thumb is whether or not you'd be comfortable with your boss at work looking over your shoulder and reading what you have on screen.

- If anything is a little too explicit in detail (e.g. in terms of medical procedures or gore), it probably needs to be here as well. Basic mentioning of medical procedures is allowed, but this is just in case for folks who have limits in regard to certain explicit things. Speaking of explicit things...

- Please use tags and content warnings, especially for things that people might be triggered over. For prompt fillers, please put those tags in the beginning of the post so that way people can skip over them if need be. Tags can also attract people to your art if it has content that they're interested in, so it can be a helpful tool for content creators as well.

- No writers of incest (kains which does include aglaya and her relatives, stamatins, olgimskys, etc), underage/adult ships (which DOES include Clara,) or rape. Please don't make anything gross happen to underage characters!

- Multiple fills to a single prompt is not only accepted, but wonderful! It's a win-win for everybody!

- In the case of a filler of a prompt going inactive for a long time in the middle of a story, it's okay for a different person to continue where they left off. Please make it obvious that you're not the original author, and then feel free to write.

And that's as much as I have in regards to rules! Hopefully these answered answer any questions you might have! Feel free to recommend any rules of your own, or ask me for clarification on the current ones.

AND THAT'S IT! Have fun! :D

LINKS:

Pathologic Prompt Meme: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/825.html
Pathologic Round-Robin: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/654.html
Pathologic Kink Meme (nsfw): https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/1201.html
Contact me here if you have any questions!: https://pathologicroundrobin.dreamwidth.org/1347.html

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Latest Prompt: [Body Worship] Eva Yan/Peter Stamatin (link)
Latest Fill:
Bathing in the steppe: Aspity/Eva link)
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The mistresses fuck. I know it, you know it, they know it, IPL knows it. Back in the old days Nina, Victoria, and even Katerina got together every now and then for some lady loving.
While their husbands dutifully waited in the parlor on the other side of the lump.
Your challenge, if you choose to accept it, is to write about Victor, Vlad, and Alexander uncomfortably sitting together in Vlad's house, waiting for their wives to finish fucking eachother a few rooms over.
It's going to be a looooong afternoon.

Why do so many of Isidor's "old friends" seem to talk about him like a forgone lover? "the one that got away?"

Artemy and Rubin never need to know. But Boddho know's I do

artemy (no top or bottom surgery) and daniil (both top and bottom surgery) suck each other off.

artemy “i take a professional interest in the handiwork of your cock. as a surgeon.” burakh

daniil “please sit on my face i don’t need to breathe” dankovsky

CW: A bit of not-so-modern language.

"I never knew it's possible" said Artemy with a hint of jealousy in his voice. He sat on Dankovky's bed, feeling slightly embarrassed.

After he accidentally had walked in on Dankovsky changing and after he had given a decent amount of apologies he wanted to learn all about methods in which could make his body more his own.

"You mentioned performing breast removal in the past" responded Daniil, not looking up from his papers. "Why are you surprised that people adjust their bodies to match their souls?"

"I meant... " he gestured vaguely towards his crotch, "removing that what is sick is easier than joining the healthy things."

"I am not saying that what we have now is perfect. Young doctor from abroad visited my Thanatica and offered me the changes and I agreed, I can't say I am not satisfied with the result." Daniil let out a deep sigh. "I would have given you the information on the surgery, if not for the fate of my Thanatica."

"I am sorry for bringing that up, oynon." Bachelor still was grieving the loss of his creation. "I wouldn't be able to use it for myself, anyhow."

Daniil showed his documents to the side of the desk and looked at Artemy.

"That method is still highly experimental. I was pretty satisfied with what I had before, but I decided to trust that surgeon mostly in the name of making those, who suffered more from the incongruence. If I hadn't been forsaken by the Powers, I would write to that man if you asked me to."

Artemy smiled weakly, considereing his next words, but Daniil decided to look directly at him as if he wanted to burn holes in Artemy's clothes.

"I normally wouldn't agree to this," man started carefully, "but since we are both doctors and both men of the same kind I will allow for some questions."

Artemy knew that he should choose something less personal, mask his interest as purely curiosity, but he couldn't stop the first thing that left his throat.

"Is this pleasurable?"

Daniil gave him a dirty look.

"I see that you are very straightforward with this." He crossed his legs. "It's pecular to explain. It's not behaving like a natal genitalia would, but I would say it's as pleasurable before the operation but at the same different. If you have a skilled partner that knows how to listen, you can have quite delight."

"I can say I have a lot of personal experience on receving end of that pleasure," Artemy chuckled, mentally cursing himself for sharing that with Dankovsky, who reacted by smirking devilishly after hearing his words.

"But you can listen well, I can tell. Let's follow your customs and trade. I will give you pleasure and I will teach you about my body in return."

"It seems that you will receive pleasure from both parts of this trade" Artemy was barely able to look at Dankovsky.

"I like being forward. Does it seem like a fair trade for you?"

Artemy hesitated. He had no risk of being outed with Daniil, but he felt somewhat ashamed of baring himself to him, as if he was going to mocked for some reason by Daniil. He licked his lips. Tension between his legs urged him to rub them together and he would be damned if he tried to pleasure himself in front of Daniil. He could leave but he knew that he would be dreaming about putting other man's cock on his tongue.

"Yes" he responded not fully knowing what to expect but feeling anxious excitement for what was about to come.

Daniil stood up and started fiddling with the pin of his cravat.

"Strip" he ordered.

Artemy wasn't able to tell which article of clothing came off first but in a blink of an eye he sat naked on the bed looking at Daniil who had only his pants on. Two slightly jagged scars on Daniil's chest were beconing Artemy to touch them. The results weren't perfect, but Daniil still emanated sheer confidence and pride in his body.

"You will get to see my cock after you will receive your part of the deal first."

Artemy wanted to protest, wanting to see the rest of Daniil and learn in which way his body was similar and in which it differed from the other men Artemy had pleasure to taste, but Daniil planted a small kiss on his lips stealing the gift of speech from him. Next series of light kisses was planted on his jaw and neck. Artemy put one of his hands on the bed, the other on Daniil's smooth hair.

"Can I call you Tyoma?" Daniil asked and Artemy nodded. "Can I continue?" Artemy nodded again.

Artemy spread his legs as his neck and collarbone we were experiencing kiss after kiss. Delicate fingers touched his chest hair and just at that moment Artemy realized that Daniil didn't have his gloves on.

"Do you mind if I play with your chest?" Daniil asked confidently and Artemy nodded with enthusiasm.

He let on muffeled moan when between the kisses he received hand that was touching his left breast pinched his nipple. Daniil looked at Artemy and pinched his nipple again and smirked after seeing the reaction and seeing that Artemy covered his mouth with one hand to stiffle moans he lowered his head again, kissing, slightly biting and sucking on Artemy right breast.

"Do you like it?" He asked again. "Don't nod this time, use your words, Tyoma."

"Yes." Artemy uncovered his mouth, slightly.

"If you want to continue, lay on the bed" the man ordered giving Artemy some space.

Artemy listened and laid on his back, legs opened even wider. Daniil climbed onto the bed. For a moment, when Artemy was between Daniil's legs he noticed that the shorter man seemed to tower over him. Daniil lowered himself to plant on last kiss on Artemy's jaw and quickly moved his hand towards Artemy's sex.

"I am so glad to see you're already wet" he said, "if it becomes to intense don't be afraid to tell me to stop or slow down".

Artemy nodded again and before he could notice Daniil's head was between his legs and hot tounge was on parts of his body he hardly ever let anyone touch. Artemy gripped the sheets and bit his lip trying to keep quiet when the sucking sensation became primary thing he felt. Sucking and licking alternetated and Artemy couldn't get used to the rapid changes, he shut his eyes tight and try to angle himself towards the sensations. When Daniil stopped for a second to check with him he muttered "please, please" trying to chase his release.

Daniil put Artemy's legs on his shoulders and when Artemy's orgasm hit him he involuntarily clamped his legs tightly, as if he wanted instinctually keep Daniil's head in place.

Seconds later, when Artemy's breath slowed down,
He noticed that Daniil was no longer between his legs, but he sat at the edge of the bed, petting Artemy's head.

"I still want to pay you back for this, you know. Let me suck you off" he said while catching his breath.

"We will have to leave learning for another time then."

Re: FILL: trans artemy/daniil oral

(Anonymous) - 2023-03-03 18:56 (UTC) - Expand

I assume their background in architecture would make them decent artists, so (please) give me Andrey or Peter (doesn't matter which one) drawing Artemy and that Escalating. Bonus if he's got a bit of a praise kink and gets flustered when Andrey or Peter compliment his body (because who wouldn't?)

Here you go! Some Artemy/Peter for you. Hope you like it!

----------------------------

Artemy folded his pants and underwear, setting them in a pile with the rest of his clothing on Peter Stamatin’s floor. He tried to avoid the traces of paint and candlewax, but it was nearly impossible.

The architect himself was settling on a stool behind a large easel, fingers already black with charcoal. “Take a position whenever you’re ready,” he said, his voice a little distant with distraction.

A chair occupied one corner of the studio, covered in a stained blue sheet. Artemy seated himself on it in what he felt might be an interesting pose: arm propped up on the back, his head resting against his fist like he was contemplating something profound. He hadn’t been this aware of his body since he was a teenager and it was suddenly much too big for him. “How’s this?”

Peter glanced up briefly before going back to organizing himself, turning over used pages of his drawing pad. “That will do.” He raised the charcoal piece in a thin hand let it hang in the air as he considered Artemy, then put it to the page.

Artemy looked away to stare at the wall, breathing slowly as he settled into his position. The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock and the rasp of charcoal against paper. Goosebumps prickled up his bare arms. The room was a little too cold to be comfortable despite the fire in the stove. Maybe Peter had forgotten to put more fuel on?

“Alright, pick another pose.” Peter’s voice was sudden, almost too loud after the quiet of the last few minutes.

Artemy adjusted himself. He tried to remember the art he’d seen in the Capital and imitate that, but it felt unnatural. He glanced to Peter, who looked a bit skeptical, but he said nothing and started drawing again.

He wasn’t quite sure why he was here. Well, that wasn’t entirely true: it was because Peter wanted to practice anatomy and because he had offered to pay Artemy for his time. It seemed like easy money, how hard could sitting naked be, but now his nose was itching and one of his feet was going tingly, and there was something about the searching way Peter looked at him that made him want to cover himself.

Peter flipped the page with a loud rustle. “Another pose.”

Artemy shifted again, twisting his spine and positioning himself like an illustration he saw of a lounging woman on the cover of one of Lara’s books.

“Stop. I want to draw you, Burakh, not what you think art is.” Peter slid off his stool and walked over. He put a hand on his back, directing him to lean forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “This is how you sit, isn’t it?” His fingers slid down his back, leaving a prickle in their wake. “Is it comfortable? This will be a longer pose.”

“Ah, yes.”

Peter finally looked pleased with him as he examined his pose. “Perfect. You are just as fine a subject as I thought you would be.” He went back to sit at his drawing pad. “You’re simple. Honest, that is,” he corrected himself when Artemy gave him a sharp look. “It shows in your body, the way you carry yourself. There’s beauty in that.”

Heat crept up Artemy’s neck. “I see.”

They fell silent again and since there was nothing much else he could do, Artemy stared at the floor. Peter called him beautiful. Well, not him, exactly: some ambiguous quality that he possessed. Even so, something about it stuck in his chest, small and bright. It was very rare for someone to compliment his appearance beyond a perceived rugged masculinity, rarer still for them to call him beautiful. He can’t even remember the last time someone had said that.

There was a rustle of paper as Peter flipped the page on his drawing pad. Artemy took this as a signal that he could move. His spine cracked loudly as he stretched.

“I want you standing next,” Peter said, coming to his side. He put a hand under his arm and gently pulled Artemy to his feet. His hands were cold. Artemy has the absurd thought that he should warm them.

Peter took a step back, let Artemy find a comfortable posture. When he was settled, Peter adjusted him slightly, tilting his head and turning his torso to get a better angle. His fingers left smudges of charcoal on his skin, proof that Artemy had let himself be handled in such a vulnerable way. It felt strangely intimate.

Peter stepped around to his easel again. “Excellent,” he said, his voice soft and almost reverent as he took in the sight of him. “Such a striking form!” He sat down again and took up his charcoal. “I wish I was painting,” he continued, sweeping his arm across the paper and laying down the underlying structure of the drawing. “There’s such lively color on you.”

The comment made Artemy blush a deeper shade of red, but he dared not move. He had hoped that the flush wasn’t visible. Still, he thought that he might be able to regain control of himself until Peter began to speak again, the hint of a tease in his tone. “What beautiful cheekbones, such a lovely curve from the neck into the shoulder, the shape of your legs is so elegant…” His voice was so low that Artemy barely heard it, but he did and despite the obvious effect it had on him, he couldn’t quite decide how it made him feel. He wasn’t used to being scrutinized this way, and usually if someone was interested in his naked body, they would comment on his cock or his ass or his general build, not how his forearm tapers into his wrist then flares out at his hand.

He decided that he was embarrassed, mostly. Mostly. There was something else there too, tingling along his spine and twisting in his gut. He did his best to ignore where else sensation was nagging.

Paper rustled again, but when Artemy went to move, Peter said “wait.” The tap of shoes on the wooden floor indicated him standing and coming toward him. He wandered into Artemy’s field of view with the lazy comfort of a cat. “You’re enjoying this?”

“It’s fine,” Artemy replied, and he was very grateful that his voice came out steady.

Peter hummed, the ghost of a smile playing on his thin lips. His eyes travel down over Artemy’s body, coming to rest on Artemy’s groin. Artemy glanced down as well, dread settling heavy in his stomach. Sure enough, he was semi-hard. “I’m so sorry,” He said quickly, reaching down to cover himself.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. You’re a wonderful subject, if unprofessional.” He stepped a bit closer. “What is it about our situation that excited you? You like being seen, or is it my appreciation that you find so titillating?”

Artemy opened his mouth, then shut it. How embarrassing would it be to admit it?

Peter waved his hand. “No matter. You may move, Burakh.”

Artemy turned away, trying to preserve what little of his dignity he had left. He was about to go put on his clothes when Peter laid a hand on his arm.

“Before you go,” he said, his voice clearer than Artemy had ever heard it. “I have an idea. May I touch you?”

He swallowed thickly. “You already are.”

Peter’s smile became a little more suggestive. “I mean…intimately.”

Artemy twitches under his hands. His heart pounded in his ears. “Could I touch you back?”

“I would like that.” Peter’s hand slid down toward his wrist, trailing smudges of charcoal. Carefully, he pulled his hand away from his groin, leaving Artemy exposed to his curious gaze. There was something odd about it and the way Peter’s fingers skated across his skin, exploring every contour of his body. It was like he could see something fundamental about his composition: not his Lines, something more geometric and esoteric. Artemy wondered what patterns the charcoal had left on his skin.

One hand reached up to cup Artemy’s jaw, bringing him down to meet Peter’s lips, while the other ghosted over his stomach. He didn’t touch his cock, not yet, just teased around it, following the lines of his muscle structure and tracing the scars. “So beautiful,” he murmured between kisses. “Such a fine man.”

“You’re a fine man yourself,” Artemy slid his hands under Peter’s coat. He could feel his ribs and spine and hips jutting from under his skin. So delicate. He reached down to palm him through his clothes, feeling a rush when the other man responded, rocking against him.

Peter kept teasing him, trailing kissed down his neck, nipping at his skin, finally applying more pressure when he brought his attention to Artemy’s chest. It wasn’t how Artemy usually wanted it: he liked things to feel more physical, to use or be used, but he was starting to understand the appeal of the flitting contact, the maddening promise of something more to come. Every touch was an electric spark prickling on his skin and leaving a reciprocal prickle in his gut. Soon, Peter had him squirming where he stood and desperately kissing him, chasing every scrap of contact he could get.

Peter smiled against his lips, then stepped away. He gestured toward the chair. “Sit down, Burakh.”

Artemy complied, leaning back and spreading his legs wide. The other man kneeled between them. With his distant precision, he licked his palm and wrapped his long fingers around his length. He watched him as he stoked him off, studying his expression and the subtle reactions of his body.

“You’re making me feel like an insect,” Artemy said even as he thrust shallowly into Peter’s hand.

“Forgive me: I find myself rather transfixed by you.” He rubbed his thumb on the underside of his head, drawing a gasp from his partner. “And I must confess, this is as much as an artistic exercise as it is a pleasurable one.” Then he ran his tongue along his length and took him into his mouth, effectively ending the conversation.

Artemy bit his lip, choking back a moan. Peter’s tongue explored him hungrily and his hand took care of what his mouth couldn’t accommodate. His other hand went into his own pants, pulling out his own dick to pleasure himself.

Artemy carded a hand through his dark hair, watching the way his cheeks hollowed and his cock disappeared down his throat. He was still very aware of his body, but not in an entirely awkward way. A few muscles in his legs twitched and his hands flexed and his hips pushed up in time with Peter’s attention. He could see the beauty in it aside from the eroticism, or at least he though he could. Art was never his specialty, and at this point, he was too distracted by the slick heat of Peter’s mouth to think straight.

As his vocal control crumbled, he tried to warn Peter of his impending orgasm. The other man pulled off him, pumping his cock until Artemy spilled over his stomach and chest.

Peter went back to working his own length. Determined to return the favor, Artemy put a hand on his arm and coaxes him to his feet. And with steady hands, he soon had Peter reaching his own climax.

Almost the moment he had recovered himself, Peter headed back over to his easel, softening dick still hanging out of his pants. When Artemy started to get up, he motioned emphatically with an insistent “stay there.”

Obediently, Artemy relaxed back into the chair. He felt rather debauched, lounging and covered with come, more so when Peter started capturing his likeness on paper.

Peter was quick with that drawing, took no more than five minutes before he tore it out of the drawing pad and started searching around in a drawer. “There are towels in the kitchen. Go clean yourself up.”

Artemy watched Peter’s back for a moment, then went to the kitchen. The intermittent sound of tearing paper filled the apartment behind him.

After he’d restored himself to something resembling presentable, he wandered back to Peter.

The walls were covered with Peter’s drawings of Artemy. They were rough and messy, had little in the way of detail, but there was something compelling in them. It was like Peter had distilled him down to what was essential and even though they were so simple, they were undeniably of him. He’d captured the way he favored one leg, added little nicks for scars, managed to portray the languid satisfaction he’d felt in the wake of his orgasm.

Artemy ran his hand along his jaw, not quite sure how to name the emotion swelling in his chest. They were so…

Peter came to his side, put a hand on the small of his back. “You see, old boy?” he said. “There’s beauty in it.”

Artemy nodded. “There is, isn’t there?”

Re: Artemy/one of the Stamatins, Artemy as a nude model FILL

(Anonymous) - 2020-09-12 01:33 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Artemy/one of the Stamatins, Artemy as a nude model FILL

(Anonymous) - 2020-09-12 01:34 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Artemy/one of the Stamatins, Artemy as a nude model FILL

(Anonymous) - 2020-09-16 22:37 (UTC) - Expand

Artemy is faced with a sobbing Daniil (like uncontrollable ugly crying) and gets surprisingly turned on. Artemy feels kind of guilty for thinking Daniil looks beautiful in tears, but that doesn’t stop him from acting on his urge to fuck him.

No dub/noncon, please. Artemy isn’t cruel to Daniil, and the sex actually makes Daniil feel better or at least forget about whatever made him so upset.

Pathologic + tentacles. Plz!

Daniil enters the prosectorium expecting to find it empty after Rubin's been seized by the Kains a few days earlier.
But it's day 9 of bachelor route(if I remember correctly)and Rubin's back and alive!
Follows a warm reunion with possible making out and more.
I think Rubin deserves it so: bonus for body worship and praise kink

I think Pathologic is lacking in kinkiness. Give me the most kinkiest, sinful thing you can think of (provided it's not incest, rape, or pedoshit ty).

Unleash.

Artemy deserves to be taken care of by a wealthy and influential older man (mainly he deserves to eat a decent meal and sleep in a warm bed every once in a while). That's it, that's the prompt.

I'm a simple man. I see a pairing with size difference, I want the larger one to be the one getting railed. So yeah that's it that's the prompt. I love trans hcs, altho my personal headcanon for Grief is that he's amab and nonbinary

There was a fire in the Earth district. It might have been an accident but I saw somewhere someone headcanon that it was to burn the witch.
I want a story where Lara, always the charitable soul, takes care of and houses Aspity.

There was some part of Lara that could never turn away someone in need, no matter how prickly or disagreeable the person was. Whether for pity or genuine care, she wasn’t sure, but when she’d heard of a fire in the Earth district and came running, only to see Aspity staring at the ashes, she’d insisted on taking her in.

The woman was snappish and surly as usual, though perhaps the degree was exaggerated due to her circumstance. It had been a battle of wills between the two, but Lara wasn’t as submissive as everyone seemed to think. Besides, if Aspity had truly wanted, she could have stormed off and Lara would have been powerless to stop her. But for whatever reason, despite their strained relationship - if one could even call it that - Aspity agreed to stay with Lara until she got back on her feet.

The houses in Gorkhon were often bare, save for necessities, but losing one’s home was devastating no matter the amount of personal effects lost alongside it. Though Aspity acted unaffected, Lara suspected it was merely a veneer over the hurt inside.

Aspity hadn’t lived long in Gorkhon, not like most of the others had. Sure, people moved in from the Capital once in a while, but most of the town’s inhabitants including Lara had been there since birth. Aspity’s arrival had preceded the first Sand Plague, ravaging the town just as it did now. Many had accused her of causing it, and it seemed those same people had turned violent towards her once again.

Lara didn’t believe in such superstitions; she was wholly bound to the simple tasks of life. In this manner she set straight to her earthly duties drew a bath for the woman as soon as they arrived at the shelter, Aspity now covered in ash and blood. She had snapped that she was perfectly capable of doing such a thing herself, but once again made no real move to keep Lara from her task.

She sat in an armchair in the parlor, mulling over the situation as Aspity bathed, wondering what it would be like living with the woman famous for being alone. There were all kinds of rumors about Aspity about town: that she was created from the earth’s clay, that she would bring maladies to the town, that she had legs made only of bone without flesh.

It was impossible to tell with the heavy cloak which hung perpetually from her broad shoulders, but Lara’s thoughts often lingered on the last of those rumors. What would it be like, if it were true, to walk only on bones with no cushion to shield them from the cold? Did they feel pain? And where, then, did the bone end? Did it extend up the thigh, to the point where her two legs met?

Lara shook her head trying to erase the thought, as if a swift turn from left to right could extinguish the glowing embers of interest that had been kindled in Lara’s heart some months ago. She’d spotted the woman in public after a long absence and it had struck her just how handsome she looked. Which had led to the occasional fantasy here and there, and now she’d be living here with Lara for an extended period of time.

Yet, the woman had just experienced a tragedy, and here Lara was, wondering how the other woman had - well, that was enough for today. She stood abruptly from the chair she’d been seated in. She didn’t have time to think about this when there was always work to be done, so she set about her chores in the kitchen.

She settled into a familiar rhythm, preparing food for supper, and cleaning the counters as she went. Her thoughts quieted down to a low hum as she worked. And yet, of course, as soon as Lara had forgotten the situation, Aspity appeared in the kitchen.

Her dirty robe was wrapped around her, still covered in ash, and it dragged along the floor as she walked, loose threads trailing after her.

“I could mend that, if you wanted,” Lara said as the other woman drew near. Her nose began to wrinkle in their proximity, “Or at least give it a wash.”

Aspity fixed her with a stare she couldn’t break, and she felt her whole body freeze.

“That won’t be necessary,” she quipped. “It’s been washed recently enough.”

“It’s quite covered in ash,” Lara remarked before she could stop herself. “And I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you without it.”

Aspity smirked, “That’s because when I’m not wearing it, I’m naked.”

Lara flushed, and tried to look away, look down, and instead her eyes traced down the other woman’s body, lingering at the subtle swell of her hip under the shapeless garment.

“Well, I’ve got plenty of extra clothes here you can wear while I wash it. It won’t be but a day to wash and dry, I’m certain even you could stand to wait.”

Aspity grew closer still, “Am I known to be so impatient?”

She was nearly breathing in Lara’s ear, and the smell of her own soap coming from the other woman’s hair was almost intoxicating. If she didn’t know better, she’d say Aspity was flirting with her. But that couldn’t be right. If anything, she was probably distracting herself from the situation.

Lara instinctively took a step back, “That’s not it, I just assumed you wouldn’t want to part with it for long.”

She found that at some point she’d once again locked eyes with Aspity and couldn’t look away. It seemed to her that the other woman could see through her skin and bone, directly into her soul. They stood like that for a moment, just staring.

Aspity must have found whatever she’d been searching for, because all at once she smirked and whirled around.

“You can wash it if you really want to do it that badly,” she called over her shoulder, and disappeared into the shadows.

Lara looked back towards the sink of dirty dishes and decided to tackle the laundry issue another day.

---

The weeks passed quickly like this, Aspity shooting quick remarks as Lara bustled about her work and questionably intentioned words spoken low after the regulars had left the shelter. Though the plague had come and gone, and the townspeople settled, they hadn’t discussed her plans or when she’d be leaving. Lara felt as though she could hardly stand to be in Aspity’s presence for yearning, yet she couldn’t stand the idea of the woman leaving.

It didn’t make sense, really. They were such an odd pair, the two of them, and Lara struggled to think what the other woman could possibly gain from this strange budding relationship, besides the material, and yet -!

Lara had grown impossibly close to her in such a short time, perhaps because despite working amongst all types of people every day, deep down she was lonely. Perhaps because there was the thrilling sense that Aspity was interested in her, interested in having more.

While Aspity was far bolder than Lara, they still butted heads, unafraid to argue or upset one another. Even contempt breeds familiarity, and in fighting it seemed they grew closer, gained a better understanding of each other. Though the most common argument was over Aspity’s quite outrageous milk consumption and the impact it had on Lara’s morning bowl of cereal.

Lara found herself thinking about it again one night as she worked on her nightly handcrafts. The fireplace glowed just bright enough for her to see her knitting, although it didn’t do much for her concentration; the sweater panel she’d been working on was steadily growing narrower as she dropped stitch after stitch in her daydreaming.

Aspity sat across from her, in the only other armchair in the parlor. She was whittling some wood into a strange shape, or perhaps it was still too early to be discerned by a viewer’s eye. It was these small moments in which Lara felt she saw a glimpse of Aspity’s true character. Though she was outwardly negative, and often scorned the town they lived in she seemed, to Lara at least, to be a rather calm and collected individual.

Lara had neither invited nor dissuaded the woman from sitting with her, yet each night they sat across from each other in the warm glow of the embers, working quietly on their own projects, and occasionally exchanging words. Then, at some point, Lara would bid Aspity goodnight, and for just a single moment her breath would feel caught in her throat as the other woman offered the resemblance of a smile instead of her usual smirk.

If asked, Lara wouldn’t be able to explain what it was Aspity saw in her and why. Of course, she’d been incredibly generous to offer her home to Aspity, but surely anyone else would do the same. Her house had been burned down; she’d been hunted as a witch once more, forever persecuted for crimes she’d never committed. Or, crimes she’d atoned for, at least. They were both followers of the Humble ideology after all, bound together in the sense of guilt they shared.

There was no doubt that tonight would pass just as they had for the past month, but Aspity quit her whittling far earlier than normal, Lara forced to look back at her poor forgotten knitting to pretend she hadn’t been watching the woman’s hands work deftly with the wood.

It was obvious, unfortunately, due to her red cheeks and mangled garment that she’d not been paying attention to her own work.

“I’m going to bathe,” Aspity announced as she stood up, stretching her arms above her head. It wasn’t enough to pull the hem of the large cloak up off the floor to expose her much debated feet, and certainly Lara hadn’t been wondering about them at all.

“Alright,” she said coolly in response, or at least she hoped it had sounded cool. “Shall I draw a bath for you?”

Lara risked a glance up at the woman and saw that the corners of her mouth had quirked up just slightly.

“Actually, I was going to ask if you’d like to join me,” Aspity said, her eyes gleaming in the firelight.

“Ah, well,” Lara stumbled for words, “that is, if you’d like me to, I’d take great pleasure in accompanying you.”

It wasn’t as if Lara had never been embarrassed in her life, but it seemed now that the burning flush in her cheeks and the awful twisting of her stomach was worse than it had ever been before. Surely Aspity would rescind the invitation immediately upon hearing Lara’s awkward response.

She bowed her head over her knitting in shame but startled when a hand rested gently atop her shoulder. It was the first intentional touch they’d shared, and it seemed that warmth trickled from the point of contact. Lara looked up, searching Aspity’s face for familiarity, but found none. The look in her eye was different, unreadable.

“Shall we?” Aspity asked.

Lara nodded, confidence somewhat restored, and rose to follow the other woman to the washroom.

---

Hot water rushed loudly into the tub, causing droplets to spray up from the surface and into the air, occasionally flecking the old wallpaper with moisture. Lara waved her hand about in the water to test the temperature, silent as she did so.

Behind her, Aspity fussed with her robe. The thick shawl which had hung so long around her neck dropped to the floor with a thump, and Lara resisted the urge to turn around. It wasn’t polite to watch a woman undress, no matter how uncouth she may be, and no matter the activities that may ensue. Besides, Aspity had only invited her to the bath. Perhaps nothing would happen at all.

The tub was plenty full by now, Lara saw fit to turn off the faucet, and with a loud squeak the room became silent, save for the soft rush of fabric as Aspity drew her robe over her head. It, too, fell to the ground and then Lara was fully aware of what she’d gotten herself into.

“My, my, Lara, are you being chivalrous?” Aspity joked.

Lara felt her face burn again, though not as hotly this time. “It’s simple decency,” she said petulantly. Certainly, desire coursed through her, but she’d waited this long to see the woman’s body, a moment more wouldn’t hurt.

“How darling,” Aspity said, and then she moved forward to step into the bath.

There was a clack against the floor, Lara hadn’t noticed before. It wasn’t sharp, closer to a soft thud, and yet, it rang in her ears as if it were a trumpet fanfare.

Aspity lowered herself gingerly into the bath, the yellow bones of her legs holding her steady in her descent.

Lara’s mouth fell open though no sound came out as she watched the woman sink into the water, sliding forward until the water covered her chest, her bent knees sticking out of the water in the small tub.

“It’s true,” she whispered at last.

Aspity’s eyes were closed as she spoke, “If you tell anyone, I’ll have to skin you alive.”

As suddenly as blood had rushed to her cheeks earlier, Lara felt it drain away, leaving her paler than before. She must have gasped because Aspity opened her eyes and then reached out a wet hand to grasp Lara’s still-clothed arm.

“I’m only joking,” she said. “But still, I’d prefer it if the town’s suspicions weren’t confirmed, considering what happened to my last place of residence.”

“Of course,” Lara assured her, “I’d never breathe a word of this to anyone else.”

“I know,” Aspity replied simply. “I wouldn’t have shown you if I’d thought you would. Much as I detest your pity, there’s more between us than we can escape from.”

The wet hand withdrew into the bath, and Lara felt that if she didn’t make a move now, she never would.

“May I wash you?” she asked. The request felt far too intimate, the situation was far too intimate, and yet, Lara could not be swayed now from the path she’d gone down. Besides, her curiosity was far too strong, she had to see the woman’s body, had to understand it, commit it to memory.

“With that shirt on?” Aspity asked, nodding at Lara’s long sleeves.

She hastened to unbutton the front of her shirt, and pulled off her undershirt along with it, leaving her chest bare. It didn’t seem fair for only one of them to be naked, but Lara left her trousers on for now. The tile floor was cold, after all.

Lara reached for the washcloth that hung on the side of the tub and lathered it with soap. She moved towards the woman’s legs but then stopped short, unsure of herself. Sensing her discomfort, Aspity stretched one leg out and rested the bone of her ankle on the edge of the tub.

“Go ahead,” she murmured, eyes closed once more.

It was scary, strange, and wonderful all at once to run the rag gently over calcified toes, to watch the impossible movement as they curled in response with no tendons to pull them. A low sigh escaped Aspity’s lips, indicating she could feel Lara’s touch.

Finally, Lara relaxed, as though she’d finally let out a breath she’d been holding for far too long. The months of repressed interest and feeling followed by a month so close together finally took hold in her heart, and a smile lit up Lara’s oft worried visage.

She worked carefully up to the knee before starting on Aspity’s other leg, afraid to wash her thighs so soon, wanting the moment to stretch forever. It was fascinating still, the way the bone gave way to flesh above the kneecap; gradual yet clean, bloodless. Lara wasn’t entirely sure that a heart was beating within Aspity’s chest, but it wasn’t that which made her human.

Re: Lara/Aspity: taking care - FILL Pt. 2

(Anonymous) - 2021-02-24 06:31 (UTC) - Expand

please i need someone to write vlad jr getting femdomed. he needs to be pegged. just look at his fucking face you all know it

get his ass, but literally.

(not a suggestion/addition to OP's request, just me being silly)

Spurred on by a bastardization of his spoken dialogue: “That's okay, we just need to wait for a regular train. I'm to receive this... huge thing.” Petr gets some alone time. Naturally, he decides it’s time to try and take the biggest dildos he owns.

I would like this to just be him, without any ships involved. However if you wanted to include any fantasies of his that don’t mention specific characters, that would be more than okay. As in, I would love to see that.

I also heavily prefer Petr to be written as trans!

Mega bonus points for:
- Starting off trying to be quiet, giving up on trying
- Overstimulation
- Deepthroating

I headcanon that Peter is Bi/Pan, and has been in at least one relationship before moving away from the Capital.
I do apologize if this does not meet up to OP's standards, but I hope y'all enjoy!
---

On nights like this, Peter preferred his own company over the company of others. Dreary nights, where the Twyrine does not whisper sweet nothings into his ear and his brother Andrei is entertaining others. Nights like tonight where he is alone with his thoughts, scattered and wandering. He sat in bed, staring out the window of the quiet town. Night had fallen, time slipping away from Peter once again. He had taken off his coat a while ago, feeling vulnerable once again. A vulnerability he wasn’t too comfortable most nights. However, on a night like this… he felt his shell become too restricting for him.

Peter’s body felt hotter than usual. The cool nights in the steppe had often chilled him to the bone, but tonight, he was burning up. Even his cotton shirt and trousers felt too constricting for him. His wandering thoughts had made him think on some of the new arrivals. That Dankovsky fellow seemed pleasant enough, well spoken and had an air of enlightenment about him. He was quite attractive, all around aesthetically pleasing. Peter wasn’t too sure why his own mind wandered to Daniil, but it had also wandered to the other beautiful inhabitants of the town. Eva, slender and fragile. Moving with the grace of a ballerina, a warm smile to lift the hearts of many. Many more people flooded his mind, but nothing stuck more in his mind than their hands. Soft or rough, he didn’t mind as long as they knew how to caress him. It was maddening.

On nights like tonight, he often settled for his own hands and the end of his hairbrush for stimulation. However, the heat in his loins was far greater than what he settled for. He shuffled around in his studio for his new toys, trying to maintain the stimulating thoughts on his mind. After searching in his closet, he found them. In one of his last visits to the Capital, he slipped from Andrei’s grasp to purchase a cock ring and a dildo. Feeling it in his hands, he felt overwhelmed by the girth of it. He could feel his own cock straining in his trousers, a shiver crept up his spine from thinking of the night he was about to have.

Peter returned to his bed and stripped himself. The cool air on his body was exhilarating, he sunk down onto his bed and began to stroke his cock. Long, drawn out strokes to get himself to half mass, before taking the time to gingerly slide the cock ring onto his shaft. Peter could immediately feel the firm grip the ring had on his penis, and after pumping his cock a bit more he felt like he was already getting close to release. He took his hands away from his penis for a moment to work on his asshole. Lubricating his fingers well, he eased one in after another. Thrusting and curling his fingers coupled with his own thoughts of hands caressing him and touching him had driven him crazy. Peter tried his hardest to bite back the moans and curses, throwing his head into the pillow to muffle his cries. He could feel his precum leaking onto his thigh, he wanted to ride this ecstasy as long as he could.

After much teasing and prepping, Peter finally grabs his dildo. He could feel his cheeks warm up as he held the perverse object in his hand. He opened his mouth to give the dildo a coy lick. There was no taste to it yet, but Peter continued to give it loving licks and sucking on the head. His fevered thoughts had wandered to a man he had an affair with in university. Strong shoulders, bovine features and a fat cock to match his stature. His thoughts perverted his other senses, the memories of his taste and his memories of guttural groans goaded him to plunge his head further down on the meaty shaft before him. Before Peter knew it, he already had the dildo far into his mouth. He pulled away from the dildo, a trail of saliva hung from his lips. Peter admired his sloppy blowjob in the candlelight, adding more lubricant to the dildo. Peter gently set the dildo down on the ground and positioned himself over the tip. Time had seemed to melt away once he felt his asshole stretching to accommodate the size of the toy. He threw all sense of modesty out the window and moaned as loud as he could. Peter didn’t care if anyone heard him or even saw him, he bounced on the shaft of the toy. The ecstasy was too much for Peter to handle, as soon as he bottomed out on the dildo, his release came and came and came.

“Oh god, yes!” He jerked out a bit more cum, before falling onto the cold wooden floor. He rode out his moment of ecstasy for just a bit longer before coming back to his senses. The cool air felt quite refreshing for once, as Peter took a moment to admire his messiness. He wasn’t too fond of the cleanup, but it was all worth it. Peter wanted a night like this to last forever.

please?

YEAHHHH PLEASE x2

patho vore

could be Daniil/any guy but preferrably Artemy... i want someone accidentally finding out he Daniil has a praise kink and using it against him. in a fun, consenting way, obviously.

After a long day at the hospital, the three doctors are very tired but...(you guessed it) THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED!
Would love if it starts as just them sleeping. Then it could evolves in any direction you want: platonic thoughts, fond thoughts, accidental cuddling, not so accidental cuddling, full on banging. So many possibilities

very sweet, very fluffy. i need to see artemy be LOVED

In either direction (or both!) and with any body part, though I'd especially appreciate Artemy being in love with Aglaya's tits.

Do not want: D/s. Artemy being a little soft and pliable while Aglaya likes to take advantage of that is great, but no power dynamics or kink, please!

w@ (happy noises)

I have no no special demands there, I just had a dream where Eva wandered in the steppe to bath and met Aspity. Can be gen or ship, would prefer P1 characterisations but not mandatory. I want to see girls of opposite sides meeting and that is all

(A/N: hi, this is the first time i'm ever posting any of my writing for pathologic. i hope it fits what you're looking for from this prompt - i love this pair.)

---------

Night is the perfect time for gathering twyre.

Very few people outside of the Kin go out into the steppe anyway, so Aspity almost always has the fortune of not having to interact with most members of the town.

Almost.

There's someone in the river. Not only is there someone in the river, but from the corner of her eye, this person looks as if they are *bathing* in it. It's in the middle of the night in autumn, an absolutely absurd time to be doing anything without warm clothes let alone completely nude. She attempts to keep herself focused on gathering twyre, to not look at whatever idiot has decided to expose themself in the night.

After a while, she realizes that her twyre seeking had somehow unconsciously brought her closer to the river. Close enough to perhaps even make out the feature of the bather even with her poor eyesight. She pointedly keeps her gaze at the ground, listening for nearby herbs - that's what had brought her in this direction anyway. The buzzing and swishing of the herbs. Nothing else.

But she feels a gaze on her. The bather has clearly noticed her, and is now examining her from afar like she's an insect trapped under a glass.

"I'm not looking at you, so would you stop staring at me?" Aspity finally snaps at the bather, eyes still fixed on the dirt and grass below her.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize it was making you uncomfortable. I was just interested in what you were doing - you're gathering twyre, yes?" the bather asks, their voice sweet and dreamlike. "And I don't mind if anyone looks at me. I don't think nudity is anything to be ashamed of."

"Bathing at night in September is something to be ashamed of," Aspity sneers, still not looking at the person in the river. "It shows how very empty your head is."

"I've heard the cold can be quite invigorating and good for the body, you know."

"Then you're very gullible and could do with some shame."

The woman ignores Aspity's snipe at her. "What's your name? I don't think I've ever seen you before."

"Of course you wouldn't have. I live in the Crude Sprawl beside what you might see as the 'unwashed masses', and you speak like women from the Capital." Aspity spits, her resolve not to look the bather in the eye weakening the more she wishes to shoot a glare in the woman's direction.

"Well, I'll go first then - I'm Eva."

"And I didn't ask," Aspity spits, irritated that her words don't seem to be sharp enough to penetrate this Eva woman's thick skull.

"But I'd like to know yours, which is why I offered you mine." Aspity can hear the smile in the woman's voice and she can't help but look up to send a dirty look her way.

But the woman's appearance alone manages to disarm the daggers in Aspity's gaze in an instant. Moonlight rolls off her like the drops of water clinging to her skin as she leans against one of the rocks by the edge of the river; Aspity can't tell for certain, but she might have freckles dappling her body as well. Her face is soft and pretty, and her hair is long, slicked back after having held her head under the water. She looks serene, flirtatiously so, like one of those suggestive paintings by that hideously depressed artist in the Skinners.

Aspity hates that she's perfectly aware of the way her eyes travel along the contours of the other woman's body, and how they refuse to stop despite it. The woman lets out a gentle, musical laugh, and Aspity darts her eyes away, feeling heat climbing up her neck and into her cheeks and hoping that the moon's light washes her skin out enough so Eva's inquisitive eyes don’t see.

"You're also quite charming yourself, dear stranger. A delight to look at, even when scowling." Eva says, situating herself more comfortably, as one would do when settling into a chair at a close friend's home.

Aspity wishes that Mother Boddho would take her back into the dirt from whence she came when she peers out of the corner of her eye to see how the soft curves of Eva's stomach, breasts, and arms lay naturally against the stone. It both provides a sense of decency, but also evokes the erotic suggestion of one body against another. This woman must be attempting to taunt her, Aspity decides, using her physical beauty in some way to draw her in before mocking her mercilessly. Utopians play strange heartless games. Ones that involve making some part of Aspity's gut feel flattered at being called a 'delight', despite her obvious dowdy appearance.

"How goes your search for twyre? I've heard that the Brides can actually hear the herbs speak to them in the Steppe. Is this true for yourself? You seem like you're able to spot them with such ease."

"Yes. It's part of why I run this errand. Do you have any more dull questions?"

Eva smiles again. "Actually, as luck would have it - I found an herb on my way here from the Stillwater, dear stranger. I've heard it's not the most common." She reaches towards a leather satchel laying on the rock, and produces a sprig of swevery from it.

"I was going to give it to Andrey, but I'll happily trade it to you for your name," she says, teasingly. Of course she would know Stamatin. Of course.

Aspity had been searching for more swevery this evening per Burakh's kind request, and the trade-off did not seem that bad. Given this woman's Utopian lifestyle, it's incredibly unlikely their paths would cross again. They had avoided each other for years already, so she doubts that this Eva would ever step foot inside the Crude Sprawl of her own volition.

"Many call me Aspity," she sighs, irritated. "Are you satisfied?"

"But what do you call yourself? A name is important," Eva explains, voice still lofty and sweet. Her fingers trace slow, looping patterns on the rock beneath her. "I like to know what people wish their souls to be called by." Aspity's eyes nearly roll out of her head.

"Sahba Usp'tae, Aspity, Sahba-ötün; choose whichever you can say without hurting yourself too badly," Aspity snaps. "Leave the sprig by the shore, and I'll retrieve it once you're finished making your poor bathing decisions."

"Sahba Usp'tae," she repeats, a dreamy smile forming on her lips. Her attempt at pronunciation is better than most, surprisingly. "It sounds lovely."

Aspity grimaces at the flattered sensation returning to her stomach. "You're enamored with too many inconsequential things."

"Well, come take my half of our trade, Sahba Usp'tae," she says, leaning her cheek on her palm and holding out the orange flowered herb. "I wouldn't want it to be blown away in a gust of wind, so it'd be best to take it now."

Aspity moves to grab the sprig from Eva's hand, the woman doesn't immediately let it go. Instead, her fingertips graze Aspity's hand.

Their eyes meet briefly and Aspity regrets it, unable to look elsewhere.

“You know, this herb reminds me of you. Uncommon, but lovely in its own way," Eva says, amber eyes showing a very convincing mimic of sincerity.

"And it's bitter as bile," Aspity adds, snatching it from Eva's hand. What was this woman's problem? Comparing her to flowers as if she were something delicate? How utterly ridiculous.

"It was lovely meeting you, Sahba Usp'tae. I hope to see you again," Eva says with the same calm expression, waving to her.

Aspity doesn't respond to her farewell, turning on her heel and walking quickly to the refuge of her home as quickly as possible.

She'll just have to return at dawn to find the herbs for Burakh, and in the meantime, she should rest her eyes. This encounter has taken more energy from her than she ever would have wanted to have spent on some Capital imbecile.

When she sleeps, she dreams of the feeling of warm freckled shoulders under her hands.

Re: Bathing in the steppe: Aspity/Eva - FILL

(Anonymous) - 2020-12-01 15:05 (UTC) - Expand

basically just them writing letter erotica to each other. bonus if artemy is the one who escalates the minor flirting into explicit territory.

Seconded! I live for Burakhovsky letters <3

I think Daniil should beg for Artemy to cum inside of him. Just lots of talk about being filled up by him, can be a bit possessive if you want, established relationship or not i dont care

Do not want: breeding kink
Don't mind: trans Daniil is totally ok

a/n: sorry for the bad pun in the title. i know this turned partially into pillow-talk fic, and i sort of blacked out and wrote this all in one night, but i'm hoping it's what you were looking for, anon! i decided to write this with trans masc daniil.
-----

"Burakh, oh God -- God, please. Please," Dankovsky pants, spreading his legs wider around Artemy's hips to take his cock deeper inside of him. "I've wanted this -- you so damn badly, mn...!"

Artemy had no idea that Dankovsky would be so vocal in bed, and so enthusiastic. He perhaps uncharitably thought Dankovsky might have been a bit of a selfish lover, wanting his partner to do the work for him while lounging back. Instead, Artemy is having to keep up with the frantic pace Dankovsky has set, meeting the roll of his hips with thrusts upwards into the overwhelmingly warm, tight body above him.

"I-It must have been a while for you, yes?" Dankovsky asks, making short noises of exertion on every downward movement he makes. "You must be -- nngh -- so pent up..."

"I... Yeah. Yeah, I think," Artemy responds, dumbfounded and somewhat dazed at the sight of Dankovsky being so disheveled and reckless on his lap. He grips onto the Bachelor's hips tightly and relishes the feeling.

Dankovsky looks down at Artemy, face flushed and mouth in a slack smile. "Going to fill me, Burakh? Spend inside of me? I won't stop you -- not at all."

Artemy pulls Dankovsky down into a sloppy kiss, distracting him from working his hips, but Dankovsky's body clenches tightly around his cock in a way that feels nearly unreal. Artemy didn't really imagine their first time together being so impromptu and so desperate, but it felt right, taking the Bachelor and being taken in return like this. It's heat and it's pleasure and it's the culmination of weeks of dancing around the inevitable.

"If that's what you want, yes. God, yes."

Dankovsky could just about ask for just about anything and Artemy can't think of anything that would make him deny the Bachelor in that moment.

"I'm going to be the first, right?" Dankovsky asks against Artemy's lips, words pressured by his rapid breaths. "The first one you come inside like this?"

Artemy nods and Dankovsky's fingers flex on Artemy's chest as he shudders, starting to rock backwards onto Artemy's length in this new position. Dankovsky's slick mixed with Artemy's pre-cum has made quite the mess out of the inside of both of their thighs.

"Good." The words come out from Dankovsky's throat roughly. "You... You'll love it. Filling me, taking me -- ah! -- as all y-yours..."

The mental image of Dankovsky lying on his back, with his face, neck, and chest flushed red, his cunt still swollen with arousal and leaking with Artemy's own come is a sight that his mind deems as the most important thing he needs to make a reality. He grunts and pushes Dankovsky onto his back, who gasps at the second change in their position, which is replaced with a staccato litany of ah-ah-ah! as he throws his head back, hair a messy halo against the sheets and his hands gripping tightly onto Artemy's forearms.

"Still good?" Artemy manages to ask through his heavy breaths. He feels the telltale pressure settling around the base of his cock, but he wants to at least try to hold back and bring Dankovsky to orgasm before himself.

Dankovsky grits his teeth and nods rapidly, wrapping his legs around Artemy's waist and trying to pull him in as close as possible. Sweat rolls down Artemy's face and his back as he continues thrusting into Dankovsky's core, and he admires the way that Dankovsky's chest is heaving under his, dark chest hair on his pale skin poorly hiding how his blush had traveled down his neck to his sternum. He loves finally being able to look at the man beneath him, and wants to commit this moment to memory -- even if this is a one-time occurrence. He certainly hopes it isn't.

But the feeling of being too tightly wound is too much for Artemy, and he feels the need to warn Daniil, of the off chance the man had changed his mind within the short span of a few moments. "I-I'm going to come, Daniil...!"

"Inside. Please -- God, please come inside me," Dankovsky pleads, his eyes squeezed shut and his voice catching with his breath. "I need it, please, Artemy."

Artemy thrusts inside Dankovsky as deeply as he can, and spills inside of him, cock pulsing as he empties and his voice not allowing him to moan Dankovsky's name, despite him wanting to so badly. Dankovsky's sex tightens around him, and Artemy's hips jerk forward -- his orgasm lasting far longer than he thought possible.

"That's it... God, just like that..." Dankovsky groans, a deeply satisfied smile on his face, reaching down between his thighs to start rubbing roughly at his own swollen cock.

His walls spasm around Artemy; it's overstimulating and damn near painful with how sensitive he is, but Artemy doesn't want to stop. He starts thrusting again, a bit slower than before. The wet sound of his come and Dankovsky's slick being pushed inside the other man's cunt is obscene, but near divine at the same time.

Dankovsky must feel the same, as his body tenses and then shakes, back arching and chin pressing to his collar. Rather than moaning, Dankovsky comes with a hiss between his teeth that turns into a gasp. Artemy has to pull out for his own sake as Dankovsky's hips twitch upwards one, two, three times before he collapses limply onto the bed, chest rapidly rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath.

Artemy shifts himself backward and pulls out, resting on his heels despite the now-unignorable protesting from his knee to behold Dankovsky laying in post-coital bliss. The Bachelor had been right about having been pent up -- it's not as if Artemy had much time or thought to spare for himself since he'd gotten home in September; there was always something to do, something to see to, someone to take care of. It feels indulgent to drink in the sight of Bachelor Dankovsky looking so debauched, beautiful, and satisfied. Artemy can't help but feel an overwhelming fondness thud in his chest.

"What... Why are you so far away? Come back here," Dankovsky pants, reaching lazily towards Artemy, but not bothering to lift himself off the mattress. "I thought you were the romantic sort, and I'll be extremely cross with you if you don't live up to that expectation."

Once again, Artemy couldn't refuse the bachelor even if he tried, or hold back the short laugh that Dankovsky's wording evokes from him. He lies back down beside Dankovsky, collecting his smaller frame in his arms and pressing his lips to the side of his head.

"Better now?" he asks.

"Much," Dankovsky sighs, nosing against Artemy's chest and wrapping his arms around his middle. "I don't know about yourself, but I felt like this was long overdue."

"Which part? The part where I hold you or the part where I finish inside you?" Artemy earns a lazy swat at his back.

"The entire thing, you idiot," Dankovsky mumbles against his skin, but his words are devoid of any anger or even irritation.

Artemy strokes Dankovsky's black hair back, not minding the sweat it leaves on his hand. He kisses Dankovsky's head again and strokes down his spine lightly before settling his hand on Dankovsky's lower back; he likes seeing the hairs on his arms raise in response.

"It's hard to be the 'romantic sort' when you've got your face hidden like that."

"Well, you didn't say such vulgar things..."

"I'm saying what you were basically saying about a minute ago, Dankovsky."

"Daniil," Dankovsky corrects him. "I believe we've more than crossed the threshold for being on a first name basis."

"OK then, I was just saying what you were saying a minute ago, Daniil," Artemy repeats, not budging on the point.

Daniil turns so his cheek presses against Artemy's chest, faint stubble scratching lightly at his skin. "It would be cruel to hold me accountable for things I may or may not have said during that time, as I was emotionally compromised."

"'Emotionally compromised'?" Artemy asks, raising his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Daniil huffs, traces of a scowl in his voice. "Don't taunt me, or we won't be doing this again."

"You'd want this again?"

"Don't be ridiculous, of course I would," Daniil responds quietly, tracing his fingers in lazy circles on Artemy's back. "It's not like I just ask for these things from just anybody."

Artemy impulsively reaches a hand down to slide between the coarse hair hiding Daniil's folds before slipping between them and rubbing two of his fingers across Daniil's cock lightly, earning him a sharp inhale from the Bachelor. He can feel his come on his fingers - still warm from being held inside Daniil's body. "Then is it too 'vulgar' to say I liked some of those 'things' you asked for?"

"Not if you keep doing that, no." Daniil shudders and his hand grabs at Artemy's back, his well-used sex trying to grip around Artemy's fingers involuntarily when he strokes between his folds, only for the digits to slide away back up to his cock.

Artemy leans down the best he can, trying to tempt the Bachelor into meeting him halfway and letting him kiss him properly. Daniil bares his neck to oblige, kissing him at languid pace that has Artemy feeling interest return and settle between his own legs.

"Give me a minute, and I'll fill you again, kheerkhen," he murmurs against Daniil's lips, taking great pride when he hears Daniil's breath catch in his chest again. Speaking in such an overtly sexual way to someone else feels somewhat foreign, but he's certain he'll get used to it, especially if he gets to practice while Daniil's hips twitch forward against his hand.

"Trying to spoil me are you?" asks Daniil, a wry smile on his face.

"Maybe, but you're not the only one who wants this."

As Artemy slides two fingers back inside of him, Daniil guides Artemy's head down to kiss the pleasured sounds out from between his lips.

Re: Artemy/Daniil being FILL-ed

(Anonymous) - 2020-12-27 10:58 (UTC) - Expand

This is my first time posting a request on a kinkmeme, hope I do this right ^^;; (not that it's that complicated of course).

A prompt for folks who have knowledge of both Pathologic 1 and Pathologic 2 and would say they write the characters as distinct and different. I would love to see a fic where P2 Daniil finds himself in the uncanny same-but-different setting of P1, and meets and has a tryst with P1 Artemy. Perhaps they're both attracted to the versions of each other from their native universe but are hesitant to act on that attraction, but see the alternate universe versions as a viable outlet for their sexual frustrations.

The sex can be any kind you think fits, I'm just here for Bachelor/Haruspex being hella turned on by the existence of alternate incarnations of their secret plague crush.

This can be surreal, with the characters unsure of whether this is a dream. Bonus points for the characters finding each other attractive for being different from the version they know, as well as similar. For example, P1 Artemy might like that P2 Dankovsky is (IMO) more jerk-with-a-heart-of-gold than scheming snake, and P2 Daniil might be excited by P1 Artemy being a bit edgier and more confident.

I love this so much. Seconded.

Re: P1 Artemy/P2 Daniil Because Pathologic Meta Lore is my Kink

(Anonymous) - 2020-11-26 21:44 (UTC) - Expand

“Paint me like one of your Russian girls...”
Peter’s eye for detail and his thirst for Twyrine, his scattered mind is stuck on Eva. He wants- no, needs to draw her. He needs to feel her. To put his mind to ease.

Body worship, lots of intimate touching and passionate sex.

look, we've all seen the recent fanart trend where daniil is a naga. i think naga daniil should fuck. preferably artemy, but that's up to you.

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