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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Oh, I like this prompt. Hmm, thinking how this could be pulled off...

Block respects Daniil's opinion and doesn't try to manipulate him, and Daniil is flustered and doesn't know what to do, and they're both very, very attracted to each other. I need more of this pairing, help me, my crops are barren.

“What are you doing here?” the Commander asks, his voice not quite judgmental, almost curious, like somehow he really wants to know the answer. Daniil’s not that much of a fool, though.

“Waiting for your instructions.” he says. “Waiting for your orders.” Order me to my knees, take your pleasure from me, use me, please. Please. I’d let you. “You saved my life; there must be something you need from me.”

“I’m here to save everything I possibly can. It’s not my job, but it’s what I’m going to do, and even then I fear ‘everything I can’ won’t possibly be enough. I’ll need your help, Bachelor, I’ll need…” He meets his eyes intently, but it’s impossible to say what exactly he intends with that look. “Your guidance.”

Daniil guiding Block’s hand down his chest, whispering just how to stroke, just where to command his body and skin, and Block would listen to him, he knows this, and – no. He needs to get ahold of himself. “In that case, I will see you again when there is something to report. Feel free to drop me a line whenever you are in need of my assistance.” Throw me a line, drop your hooks beneath my skin, reel me in and have me, hold, me keep me.

He flees, then, and finds a quiet corner where he can still his trembling hands, and somehow keeps himself from shoving them down his trousers to still his restless thoughts. He won’t do the Commander such a disservice.

(And yet. He wants.)

This is very evocative and there's a real economy of language used to convey the point. I particularly like Daniil's turn around from 'use me' to 'oh, he'd actually listen to me'. Giving a character more than one set of desires like this makes them feel more rounded.

thank you very much! i really think daniil wants both of those things, but he's more used to being used, so the thought of block listening comes as a surprise and compromises him a lot more. i'm glad the economy of language worked for you, too.

I'm OP and I'm compromised. I love how vivid Daniil's imagination is, how it contrasts his clipped and cautious speech, how it surrounds and overwhelms it. His desire for Block is so palpable and so visceral. And 'throw me a line, drop your hooks beneath my skin, reel me in and have me, hold me, keep me' is so!!! Good!!! Daniil wants to be kept, and my heart just aches for him. This was beautifully written, and everything I wanted to read.

A warehouse backroom, night. A moth circles the metal cage of a yellowing lightbulb overhead.

BAD GRIEF is spotlit; all else is dark. He's kneeling on the floor, fully dressed, with the addition of competently-tied red bondage rope: wrists together behind his back, ankles together beneath him, various knots and ties crisscrossing the rest of his body.

MARK IMMORTELL leans against his cane, standing on the border between light and dark. He observes GRIEF at an analytic remove.

GRIEF
Can't say I'm surprised you'd be into tying folks up, director. I'd almost say it's too obvious. One's first thought ain't always one's best, you know. No wonder there's no audience.

MARK
Oh? You think there isn’t an audience here?

GRIEF
You see any packed chairs? Don’t try to tell me there’s a line out the door. I take a firm stance with these things...

If I can’t see it, it’s not there.

MARK
For once, it seems, we’ve found something upon which we can agree.

GRIEF
What? That you’re a hack?

MARK
No.

That the belief in a stark division between life and acting can only ever lead to unconvincing actors. One knows what to expect when one isn’t implicated in the scene. There’s an unavoidable tendency to wear a mask. A façade that earns praise not in spite of, but because, it can be seen straight through...

GRIEF
(sarcastic laughter, unconvinced) Should I feel insulted?

MARK
Hardly. As I said, if there's something personally at stake for the actor, the performance becomes real. You're at risk. So you're doing a good job.

GRIEF
Because there's something threatening me?

MARK
Because there's something you're afraid of.

GRIEF
What? You? Is this the night where you snap and gut me like a fish?

MARK
That's not my role.

But no: I'm not going to stab you. I'm not going to hurt you at all.

Really. I promise.

Although you certainly might get hurt over the course of events. Who's to say how things might unfold?

GRIEF
Don't flatter yourself.

Beats me what brought about your change of heart tonight, showing your face over on this side of the tracks, but we both know what our hands can reach. What we control...

Tell all the stories you want. What I have is still real.

MARK
(silent, smiling) Of course. I see, I see. You'll untie yourself, then.

GRIEF
I said don't flatter yourself. Come on, you know I'm like this under false pretenses.

MARK
I did tell you a different story at first, didn't I?

You'll have to forgive me.

GRIEF
For wasting my time?

MARK
For changing the script.

fuck that last line!!! OP here. I love the script format, the metatheatrical stakes, and Grief is so cool and snarky even as he's bound up in red rope, and Mark is so. Mark. And this is so good! Thank you so much.

Damn, the voices are on point for both of them. I love the smug vibe from Mark and the sarcastic, irreverent edge from Grief. That's such a cool dynamic, great work!

So Victor's first love was Wild Nina who was broadly, maybe, kind of evil. She certainly had a lot of (magical?) power that she used to terrorise the Town-On-Gorkhon and do broadly what she liked to whomever she liked.

Then many years later Alexander gets special emergency powers during the plague crisis... aaaand promptly starts abusing that power. Suddenly Victor is intrigued. He has a type after all.

Up to you where it goes from there. Does Victor's breathless approval make Alexander's iron-fisted excesses worse or is Victor's regard an icy-cold wake up call?

Op your mind

artemy has hangups about actually touching himself so he humps a pillow instead while he thinks about daniil

I like when they're colleagues who respect each other's abilities without the baggage Rubin is used to because Daniil's an outsider.

I also like the height difference. If Rubin can lift Daniil up and fuck him against a wall at Daniil's urging, that'd be good.

yeah that’s it. daniil is writhing under peter, can barely hold it together, he’s loving it. he did not expect THAT from peter but he isn’t mad
i want them to both be trans because i’m a genius

please i just need nina to possess victor and get him off while she dirty talks him from beyond the grave :pensive:

ok look theres a line in another fill on here where andrey says to artemiy, “let me have you and i’ll make you scream” and i just want him to make good on that promise

andrey just wants to help the poor big guy take the edge off, he always looks so stressed out... let andrey top artemiy!!! bonus points for artemiy being a lot more vocal than expected, and for artemiy being inexperienced + andrey finding it cute

i prefer artemiy to be written as amab, but if u write andrey as trans pls only use male language for his dick thank u

i second the HELL out of this, op your MIND

artemy just getting absolutely destroyed by as many partners as you want to write! i mean, artemy is hot as fuck, and there are a LOT of people in the town-on-gorkhon who probably agree!

bonus points if:
+ overstimulation
+ edging
+ praise or degradation

DOUBLE bonus points if artemy drools

I don’t care who his partner is. Maybe Artemy because I like Artemy, but mostly I just wanna see a brawl turn into a /different/ kind of brawl, y’know. This man gets off on pain and that rush of adrenaline and I want to see it. (Just nothing too violent, or it’ll make me uncomfortable. Nothing that’ll REALLY have him in pain. Sure, smack him around a bit, but keep it a good fun and sexy time, yeah?)

It was late enough at night that soon it would technically be morning. Artemy was hunched over the alembic in the workshop, preparing a few final brews for the day ahead. He was utterly alone. Sticky was off doing who knew what and had mumbled something about being back the next day for lunch. Artemy had long since given up trying to dictate the boy’s comings and goings. He’d merely pressed dried meat and a swevery-infused tincture into his hands and made him promise to stay away from any unsafe districts.

The work of brewing should have been soothing, the perfect way to lose himself and forget the tensions of the day. Instead, a familiar and deeply unwelcome restlessness was stirring in Artemy’s body. He’d tried pushing himself with his work, hoping the fatigue would smoother the heat rising from the pit of his stomach. But even with his vision nearly blurring with exhaustion, he couldn’t silence the demands of his body.

He stepped away from his workbench, mingled frustration and dread churning in his guts. Sleep would fix it. That was all he needed. And if his dreams were particularly vivid and… fruitful, well, he could hardly be blamed for what his body did while he was asleep. Artemy knew exactly what shape his dreams would take tonight. Accepting Dankovsky’s offer to sleep in his bed last night had been a mistake. The sheets had smelled of him and for the first few moments as he’d lain there, Artemy’s mind had whirled with half-formed fantasies about Dankovsky joining him. Fortunately, fatigue had won out and his sleep had been deep enough to prevent any embarrassing incidents.

Artemy removed his boots and then dragged his pants and undergarments down slowly over his hips, swallowing a grunt as the material slid torturously against his erection. He refused to look down at his bare body. Old teachings stirred in the depths of his memory. Pleasure and arousal were another facet of connection, a way of tangling your Lines with someone else’s. To use such things for one’s own gratification alone was seen as selfish and scorning the very purpose of the gift. Artemy wasn’t entirely convinced of the truth of that, but pleasuring himself was always tinged with a sense of doing something he shouldn’t. Easier to simply ignore the desire when circumstance prevented him from seeking connection with another. Like when he was in the middle of a plague and two of the town’s few doctors couldn’t afford distractions.

I’ve seen corpses prettier than you. The words rose unbidden in Artemy’s mind as he slipped beneath the covers of his bed and he shivered. It should have just been an insult, a way for Dankovsky to reassure himself that he wasn’t going soft after showing a hint of humanity in offering his bed. But his eyes and his tone had told a different story. His gaze had lingered on Artemy’s face like a caress and drifted down his body. The close scrutiny was eerily similar to the attention he’d given the vial of bull’s blood, but there was hunger in look he’d turned on Artemy and his words had carried an undercurrent of insinuation. That he was even considering Artemy’s relative prettiness was a revelation. Such things carried little importance in Artemy’s world, but he’d felt heat creeping up his neck all the same and he’d turned toward the bed to avoid letting his reaction show.

Artemy found that his hand had drifted down between his legs. The heel of his palm was pressing against his cock to relieve the ache. Slowly and deliberately he moved his hand away and gritted his teeth against the renewed throb of arousal. He gripped his pillow instead and faced the wall, resolutely shutting his eyes for sleep.

It didn’t work. He was tired enough that he could feel it like a building pressure behind his eye sockets, but his body was wound too tightly. His thighs tensed and relaxed in an effort not to thrust against the empty air. Or the bedcovers. Artemy’s hand went bloodless with the force of his grip on his pillow.

What if he’d been like this in Dankovsky’s bed? What if Dankovsky had seen him like this? Instead of discouraging his arousal the thought of Dankovsky noticing, or doing something about it, sent a fresh wave of heat rolling up his spine. He could almost feel a gloved hand brushing through his hair, down his shoulder, along his ribs. He bit back a groan. He wanted those cold brown eyes watching and all that intent curiosity focused solely on him.

Artemy’s hands where shaking with how tightly they were clenched. The arousal roaring through his body was almost painful now, but he couldn’t bring himself to reach down and actually touch himself like that. But if Dankovsky were here. If those deft fingers would only part his tense thighs or wrap around his cock…

Artemy shoved his pillow down and pressed it hard against his erection. The relief drew a ragged gasp from him and his hips rolled against the yielding surface. This was only about easing the ache, he wasn't going to, wasn’t…

His traitorous mind conjured up the feel of what it might be like to rut against Dankovsky. Hot flesh pressed against hot flesh, slick with sweat, the sound of Dankovsky panting his ear, moaning. The friction of cloth against his erection felt wretchedly good, but it wasn’t exactly convincing. Unless… Artemy swallowed against the sudden dryness in his mouth.

His mind wandered back to the idea of Dankovsky’s hands on his flesh, but this time the touch burned against his hip as Dankovsky directed him, encouraged the sharp, reluctant thrusts. He imagined Dankovsky’s voice, all precise capital vowels and that condescending edge. That’s it, keep going. A low groan escaped Artemy’s clenched jaw. I want you to feel good. Let me see you come undone.

Artemy’s breaths were loud and ragged to his own ears and he felt his heartbeat in every part of his body. The last threads of his self control snapped and flung himself face-down, clenched hand still buried in his pillow as he thrust against it, chasing the harsh friction as he imagined Dankovsky draped across his back. Those smirking lips pressing against the back of his neck, his shoulder, a careless or intentional scrape of teeth. He imagined crude suggestions and encouragements whispered in his ear. Dankovsky wouldn’t even understand Artemy’s hesitation and the ways the Kin looked down on self-pleasure. It would simply be an amusement to him.

Artemy shuddered as he spilled against the fabric of his pillow. The pleasure was a warm weight settling in his limbs. A wave of exhaustion washed over him, but even that felt strangely good in the wake of his climax. He flung his pillow off the bed, deciding he was tired enough to go without one for a few hours. Sleep stole over him, slowly and inexorably, and Artemy was sure that he’d dream.

I’m the a!a of the fill you mentioned and I’m super-flattered. I would also be very fascinated to see what someone comes up with for this prompt. Seconded!

oooh this is hot anon. i love artemy fantasizing about daniil's gloves...

Thank you very much! I'm really pleased you found this fill hot :)

(double the glove kink, trans daniil intended but there’s no gendered language for genitalia)

They quickly undress themselves and each other, stripping off their affects — Daniil, undoing the red knot of his cravat, exposing the pale line of his throat, and Block, letting Daniil push off his red coat and insignia, shedding it like skin. Block starts to take off his gloves, but Daniil catches his wrist and stops him.

He kisses the palm of Block’s gloved hand, and though Block can scarcely feel it, he shudders at the consideration in Daniil’s dark eyes. He watches, as Daniil kisses up to the crease of Block’s fingers, and laves them with his tongue, taking in the taste of leather.

“Dankovsky,” Block says softly, wonderingly. “Daniil …”

Without breaking eye contact, Daniil draws Block’s fingers into his mouth — the sensation muffled, but the sight of it stirs him, the sight of Daniil so focused, so devoted. Block has longed all his life to lay that life down for some just and holy cause, but Daniil handles him like a holy relic, worshipping and reveling in just the touch of his hand. How can he help giving into it? Daniil suckles and swallows him in, and Block matches him with a stroking rhythm, dredging a moan from the well of Daniil’s throat.

That he feels, singing somehow through leather to skin, and into Block’s bones. When Daniil pulls back at last, teeth catching in the glove’s fingertips, Block finds himself breathing fast, like a hunted animal.

There’s pride in Daniil’s smile, and Block imagines there’s fondness, too. He leans in to kiss Daniil’s lips, and once again those lips part eagerly for him.

“Go on, Commander,” he murmurs, in their mingled breaths. “Touch me.”

“There’s ... no need to call me that,” says Block — steadily as he can when they’re this close.

“Sir, then?”

“Alexander.”

This time when Daniil smiles, Block feels the curve of it on his own skin. “Alexander,” he says. His voice is music. He kisses along Block’s jaw. He lifts Block’s hand to where it can slide open Daniil’s unbuttoned shirt, and though it isn’t skin-to-skin, Block marvels at the contact, at how Daniil arches to meet the pressure of his palm.

He longs to map the whole of the other man’s body beneath his fingertips, and Daniil allows him, encourages him, his kisses longer and deeper the more that Block touches him. He kisses hard enough to bruise at the join of neck and shoulder, and Block groans with it, fingers curling.

Between one kiss and the next, Block’s back hits the table, and Daniil urges him on to it by crawling into his lap. There he sits, naked except for his open shirt and glove-garters, with a gaze as intimate as a caress — and Block wonders what he’s done to deserve Bachelor Dankovsky, wonders what choices led them here.

“I’m lucky to have you,” he voices aloud, and some unfamiliar emotion flits over Daniil’s face. He’s seen Daniil weary and worried, simmering with cold fury, but never seen his eyes flash at a compliment, then flick away, as if to hide it. “Really, I am,” Block reaffirms. “I’ve admired you since we first met, and I never imagined you …”

Before he can say another word, Daniil snatches a kiss from him, feverish and hot. He drags open Block’s trousers, deliberately palming his arousal, and the next thought flies from Block’s mind as he gasps his next breath into Daniil’s mouth.

He understands what made Daniil arch for a glove’s seam against bare skin. He wants anything, everything Daniil can give, yet the touch is teasing and light — loosely, lazily circling and stroking, but never grasping long enough for Block to lose himself to, and even that is almost too much — it’s not nearly enough —

And Block never imagined it, never imagined they could be together like this, that he could be this close to anyone, that he could ever be more than a distant commander of men. The daring of Daniil thrills him, and the searching confidence of his touch, as though he’d already guessed how to take Block apart and is pleased to prove himself right. His fingers smooth over a sensitive spot, and when Block lets out a strangled, half-keening sound they slither their way back, leather dragging and deliberate over skin. He discovers just how to push Block to the edge, and hold him there.

“Please … please ...”

“Finish your thought,” Daniil prompts him, merciless. “Please what?”

Block reaches for him, for the crux of his legs, with the same glove Daniil had lavished and kissed. “May I?” he asks, voice breathy and rough. “Please?”

It isn’t the answer Daniil seems to expect. There’s that flickering look again, almost-shy, but he summons up a smirk at the end of it. “Would you really beg me for that?”

“I would. I want you … I want you to feel as I do ...” He wants to feel connected

“If that’s what you want … Alexander.” The name rings in the air.

The gloved finger feels tight, and Daniil feels tight around him, but it slides in easily and he knows why. Daniil’s breath catches, and he’s beautiful like this. His eyes, once so dark and intent, go momentarily hazy, and the light glints off of them.

“You can … give me … more than that …”

And so he does. A flush spreads from Daniil’s cheeks to his throat to the top of his shoulders. He bites his lip, but Block can hear the beginning of a whimper. “Is this good?” Block asks, watching, waiting to go deeper.

“Yes, yes,” Daniil answers. His thighs tremor around Block’s wrist. “Just … move.”

At first, he hesitates — it doesn’t seem possible, but Daniil’s body takes him so smoothly and when he tilts his fingers, Daniil shivers. He wishes he could feel it, feel more, but he feels the warmth of Daniil around him — feels Daniil pressing closer, quickening his pace — and any more would overwhelm him. It’s enough to chase the stuttering of Daniil’s hips, the sounds of his moans when he lets them loose at last. More than enough, and Block thinks he catches his name in the other man’s cries, Alexander, Aleksya, Sasha, ah, ah …

He follows those cries to their end, Daniil’s whole body tautening and trembling, head thrown back like some martyr, eyes wide and wild with revelation, and Block trembles, too.

Suddenly, Daniil removes his hand, and Block scarcely has time to feel the loss, before he snaps open his glove-garters behind Block’s back, and tears the gloves off with his teeth. He lays one naked palm on Block’s cheek and pulls him down for a drinking kiss. “Come for me,” he says, stroking Block again and harder, flesh on heated flesh. “You want it, you wanted me, don’t you? You wanted me, so show me —“

The words kindle something in him, some searing light sacred or profane, and it drives him shuddering over the edge.

With slow breaths, Block comes back to himself. If Daniil was beautiful before, he’s breathtaking now, the fervor gone and leaving him languid. Reluctantly, he begins to withdraw, but Block catches his hand and kisses the back of it.

Daniil’s lips part around a question, then close again. “You look satisfied with yourself,” he says.

“With you. Thank you.” Tender and careful, he twines their fingers together. “May I hold you, Daniil?”

“You don’t need to ask me for everything ... “ Daniil settles against his chest, a slight, but solid weight. “Go ahead.”

Block wraps his arms around him, and holds Daniil to his heart.

ok first of all THANK YOU for the gloves kink... glove in mouth AND glove fucking... its like christmas............

i love how delicate/tentative? this is, daniil doing his best to dodge feelings, block's reverence... ach. this is lovely!!!

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Page 6 of 16

Pathologic Kink Meme!

Newest Activity!

Re: peter topping artemy?

Alexander Block/Daniil Dankovsky

Alexander Block/Daniil Dankovsky FILL

Re: Alexander Block/Daniil Dankovsky FILL

Re: Alexander Block/Daniil Dankovsky FILL

Re: Alexander Block/Daniil Dankovsky FILL

Re: Mark Immortell/Bad Grief, playing roles - FILL

Re: Mark Immortell/Bad Grief, playing roles - FILL

Re: Mark Immortell/Bad Grief, playing roles - FILL

Victor Kain/Alexander Saburov, Hot for Abuse of Power

Re: andrey/daniil college days wild sex, but...

Artemy Burakh Fun Solo Times

Daniil/Rubin

daniil finds out peter can eat pussy like a king. a starving king. peter gets IN IT.

victor/nina + possession

andrey/artemiy where andrey tops

Re: Make Peter see Stars

everybody loves burakh!

Andrey Stamatin’s Fighting Kink

Fill: Implied Artemy/Daniil, Masturbation, Internalised Shame

Re: andrey/artemiy where andrey tops

Re: Fill: Implied Artemy/Daniil, Masturbation, Internalised Shame

Re: Fill: Implied Artemy/Daniil, Masturbation, Internalised Shame

FILL: Daniil Dankovsky/Alexander Block

not OP but