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pathologicroundrobin2020-02-03 07:41 pm
maximumhusky) wrote in pathologicroundrobin2020-02-03 07:41 pm
Entry tags:
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
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
Newest Activity!
Latest Prompt: [Body Worship] Eva Yan/Peter Stamatin (link)
Latest Fill:
Bathing in the steppe: Aspity/Eva link)
Latest Comment: "Thank you so much, I wanted this filled so bad! [. . .]" (link)
FILL: Andrey/rubin, fighting kink (3/3!)
(Anonymous) 2020-05-23 06:51 pm (UTC)(link)Andrey laughs and rocks into it, a low press of his body forward, and then back, across Rubin's stomach. "Oh? You surprise me."
Rubin reaches up towards Andrey's face. Andrey bends down to meet him. "Be quiet," he says. Andrey grins and pushes his bloody mouth into the palm of Rubin's hand.
"No," he murmurs.
Rubin pushes his thumb between Andrey's teeth and stops his voice. Andrey bites down and tastes his own blood, fights just enough to feel it as Rubin grips his jaw with a practiced hand and forces it open. His other hand presses hot against the front of Andrey's pants.
Andrey bucks into it and curls his spine, thrashing, making Rubin hold him still. Rubin breathes hotly as Andrey traps a knuckle between his molars, a second between his canines, and tries to break skin. A liquid trail of red flees down Rubin's wrist.
To Rubin's credit, he doesn't wince. Blood stains the hem of his sleeve as he works at Andrey's buttons and Andrey flexes his fingers at his side to keep them still, rocking into the touch and down against Rubin's chest. He licks at Rubin's thumb and chuckles wetly when he makes a face.
Rubin's grip on his jaw tightens. "Cooperate," he says, and doesn't seem the slightest bit surprised when Andrey immediately twists away, Rubin's thumb dropping from his mouth, riddled with the white marks of teeth.
"Cooperate," Rubin says again, and Andrey laughs and presses both of his hands over Rubin's grip on his crotch, and Rubin slaps Andrey across his face with his free hand, a weak hit full of sentiment. Blood splatters the long grass in a perfect arc.
Andrey pants and smiles and covers the old wound on his stomach as Rubin finally gets his fingers below it, past the constricting fabric around his hips, and touches him.
Andrey hisses happily. His hands are rough and callused, and for a long moment the undercurrent of pain is good, before he tosses his head and says "Ah—ah, doctor, dry—" Rubin clicks his tongue and pulls away his hand away, holding it palm-up. Andrey spits in it. Blood drips down the tip of his nose and mingles with it over Rubin's lifeline.
Rubin puts his hand back, the friction mitigated somewhat, and Andrey shudders and closes his eyes.
All sensations are good sensations this late at night. Andrey groans lowly until he feels a soft press against his mouth. He bares his teeth, but the touch drags upward.
A hand cards through his hair, almost gentle.
Andrey's brows furrow for a moment before he relaxes. He leans into the touch. Bent over like this, his spine curled and exposed to the air, he feels like a cat held by the collar.
Then Rubin fists his hand and pulls Andrey forward by the hair. Andrey yelps and swallows it in a gasp of delight. His eyes fly open, stinging.
Rubin's face is knit in concentration. He has the far-seeing gaze of a scientist with an experiment.
It holds Andrey fully captive for a moment: Rubin's hands on him, his focus, the impossible gap between the man sitting at the bar half an hour ago and the man laying below him now. The full force of his luck bears down upon him, taking his breath—
And then it's gone, and he's light.
Rubin's gotten the hang of it. He holds Andrey just still enough to keep him upright, hips kicking into his palm, and then he pulls him to the side or yanks him forward and Andrey fights enough to be forced back down. He keeps one hand over Rubin's, loosely touching the knuckles of his working hand. The other is behind his back, knotted savagely in the hem of Rubin's shirt.
For a while there is a perfect concert of understanding, two bodies working together, small underneath the night. Then, as partnerships go, Rubin slows, and Andrey quickens, and eventually the touch becomes too much and Andrey bats Rubin's hand away and comes into his own palm, wincing gently, as Rubin cradles his red cheek with a hand that is growing numb.
Andrey exhales heavily, his breath reflecting off Rubin's palm. Rubin drops his hand behind his head, where it disappears into the dark shadows left by the dying grass. They sit. Far away Andrey can hear the yelping of dogs, the crackling of imagined fires.
He wipes his palm on his thigh. He didn't notice before, but the gray dark is close to them. Rubin's expression is unreadable. The hand that was touching Andrey has fallen to his side.
There's often a lack of intimacy after encounters like these, but Andrey doesn't feel that now. His curiosity bubbles like boiling water.
Rubin is quiet. Andrey can feel his breathing.
He tucks himself back into his pants. He raises himself up on his knees and brackets Rubin's head with his hands. Below him, Rubin's face is in heavy shadow.
"Stamatin," Rubin warns.
Andrey says, "I can be gentle. Just say the word."
The black mask of Rubin's face doesn't move. Andrey shrugs and begins to move away, but Rubin catches his wrist before he can.
"I don't—" Rubin begins to say. There's an edge to his voice.
"Relax," Andrey says, in the voice he uses when he's handling someone. "I'll return the favor, if you'd like. That's all. A kindness for a kindness."
Rubin looks up at him. His grip on Andrey's wrist loosens. He seems uncertain if he wants to entirely let it go.
Andrey cocks his head. "Yes or no?"
"Yes," comes Rubin's rough voice.
Andrey smiles. Blood cracks on his lips. He's glad that was the answer.
"Alright," Andrey says plainly. He settles back upright, going slow. Rubin's face is blank. Now that he's looking, Andrey sees the hard line of his cock underneath his doctor's robes. He smirks and looks at Rubin pointedly before spreading his hand over it.
Rubin hisses and twitches, and Andrey drops forward to cover his body, bracketing him as he flinches again. He kneads Rubin's cock through the layers of fabric and tucks his face into Rubin's neck.
"I meant it when I told you to relax," he says lowly. Rubin is holding himself very still. Andrey reaches up and pushes his shirt away, touches his stomach before tugging at a ragged drawstring, being deliberate. Rubin's breathing is shallow.
He reaches underneath clothes and wraps his hand around Rubin's cock. Rubin's hips kick involuntarily as he lets out a low noise, and Andrey pulls back, shushing Rubin when he twists his neck to look.
"Easy, doctor," he says, shifting his weight and pushing Rubin's knees apart, lifting the back of his thigh with his own. He spits in his palm and puts his hand back, and then leans forward again, laughing a bit at Rubin's confusion, his own acceptance of being moved. His forehead brushes the ground when he bends back down; he smells sweat and steppe grass in Rubin's neck.
Low choked noises are coming from Rubin's throat, though Andrey isn't doing much. It's clear he hasn't been touched in a long time.
Andrey smiles. He bites the skin of Rubin's neck and feels it all along his body when Rubin shudders.
"Come on," Andrey coaxes. It's a game now, like the first one they played. Rubin's resolve is wavering, the force of his formidable strength made brittle by time and tiredness. He's leaning into Andrey's touch, his knee coming up further against the back of Andrey's leg.
His breaths are short and sharp. Andrey presses his mouth against the front of Rubin's neck, feeling the labored movement as a low groan escapes his lips.
Rubin's hands are still hidden by the grass, held down at his sides. Andrey says, "Touch me, why don't you?"
Rubin doesn't move. Andrey clicks his tongue and feels carelessly around in the grass, finding Rubin's hand and dragging it up to the back of Andrey's head. Then he bites Rubin's neck, with more force than before, and Rubin clings to him on reflex.
Andrey hums approvingly. He rocks his own hips, pushing Rubin's leg forward, and Rubin's fingers flex in his hair. First tentative, then pushing down.
It feels like victory in Andrey's way as Rubin's movements get clumsy, as wetness spreads down the head of his cock and his grip on Andrey's hair grows tighter. It doesn't take long for him to come. Andrey shushes him through it, soundlessly, against the skin of his neck.
Rubin's hand drops from Andrey's hair. Andrey sits back and watches him catch his breath, eyes closed, haloed by the grass.
He looks like he did when Andrey flipped him, countless minutes ago. Conquered and quiet, on the edge of sleep.
Andrey takes a look at Rubin's ruined tunic and wipes his wet hand on it. He pulls Rubin's pants high enough to cover him and flops down onto the ground at Rubin's side.
The dry brush scratches his back. How Rubin stood it, he doesn't know. He stretches, arching his back, reaching his hands towards the wall beyond them. He flexes his legs and winces at the uncomfortable warmth in his pants.
The night sky is flat and dark, pocketed with rural stars. The shoots of naked tree branches stretch across it, cutting some in half, blacking others out entirely. Andrey tilts his head. New stars blink into existence; others wink away.
He rolls over and looks at Rubin.
His bruised face looks peaceful. It might be the shadows from the streetlight. After a moment, he opens his eyes and looks over at Andrey.
Andrey smirks, but Rubin doesn't respond. He just looks, with what feels to Andrey to be an inappropriate solemnity.
"What?" Andrey says, not unkindly.
Rubin doesn't seem to hear. He reaches out and touches the bandages at Andrey's waist.
"Healed," Andrey says. "But my brother frets, so I wear them past their usefulness."
"You barely needed them," Rubin says, his voice rough. When Andrey raises his eyebrows, he says, "You came to see old Burakh. A fortnight ago. I remember."
"I don't," Andrey says. "I don't remember you. I remember the old man and his hands, and I remember him frightening Petya. You didn't show your face."
"I washed the bandages," Rubin says steadily. "I cleaned the tools. I was there."
Andrey looks at him. He feels, in concert, a sense of compassion and of mournful loss.
"I shouldn't have spoken against Burakh," Andrey says. "That was vulgar of me. I was only trying to anger you."
Rubin stares at him, mouth slightly ajar. Andrey feels a tenderness towards his broken lip, his bruised cheek, and feels quite content to lay on the ground and gaze at him, but Rubin sits up. He wraps his arms around his bent legs like a child and looks down at Andrey.
After a moment he says, "Come wash your face, Stamatin."
It's polite. It's generous, in a way that feels wholly out of place in the wretched city during the gray plague. It's not what Andrey expected — none of this is — and it strikes him sideways with youthful delight, douses his well-worn concern in color.
He buzzes happily, emboldened by the beautiful moment in the encroaching night, and rolls to his side, then his feet. He sticks his hand down to Rubin.
"I'll deny you, I'm afraid," Andrey says, as he pulls Rubin to his feet. "But you are kind, genuinely. You're different than I thought."
Rubin's tall, half a head higher than Andrey. His eyebrows knit gently as he studies Andrey's face. "I don't know what to make of that," he says eventually.
"It's a compliment," Andrey says patiently. "Most people don't like you."
"I don't understand," Rubin says. "Are you trying to insult me?"
Andrey beams at him. After a moment, Rubin shakes his head, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. They turn to the street in symmetrical motion.
Rubin stops under the streetlight as Andrey moves to break away.
"Please come upstairs," he says, softer. "You're covered in blood."
Andrey turns. He evaluates Rubin's face, the marks he left and the marks that were there before. Like a sycamore, the bark has peeled away, and underneath all is white.
"No," Andrey says. "But thank you. I'll go to my brother."
Rubin nods shortly. His mouth has twisted into an unknowable line. Andrey recognizes wounded stubbornness and moves to calm it.
He makes his voice gentle. He says, "See that you sleep, doctor."
Rubin's eyes snap to him, and for a moment Andrey sees blind terror, fevered and animal. He steps back, but it's gone as quick as it came.
"You as well, architect," Rubin says, steady as iron. "We all need rest."
Andrey watches him as he walks to the dark courtyard lining the homes at the side of the road. He watches the blank brick buildings long past when Rubin leaves his sight and wonders what purpose they serve except to isolate, to sever connection, to hide human animals from their siblings on the ground.
He shakes it off. He rubs his face and brushes flakes of dried blood off the heel of his hand.
He'll go find Peter. The local doctor has made him sad.
Re: FILL: Andrey/rubin, fighting kink (3/3!)
(Anonymous) 2020-05-24 03:40 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Andrey/rubin, fighting kink (3/3!)
(Anonymous) 2020-05-24 06:40 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Andrey/rubin, fighting kink (3/3!)
(Anonymous) 2020-05-24 07:31 pm (UTC)(link)HI I’M OP
(Anonymous) 2020-05-28 07:26 pm (UTC)(link)