Pathologic Kink Meme!

[maximumhusky]

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

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)

Comments

Re: artemy/daniil autopsy table

[(Anonymous)]

i wound up writing something kind of long for this, and my brain wound up mashing together classic & two. i hope it's okay;;

--

The factory he’s lead himself to – the warehouse, the whatever-it-is, this abandoned building – it has clearly seen better days. Even the outside looks worn, rarely cleaned, and of all things there is a bull standing to the side of it, eyeing Daniil warily. It’s not the bull, he thinks, that should be looking so suspiciously at him. Were he a superstitious man, he’d go up and demand to know where Artemy Burakh was. If it was true he’d entered the Abattoir and never left. If he’d simply –

No. Not here. Not now. But if not now, when? Daniil doesn’t let himself give in. There’s no such thing as a good time, not in conditions like this. He’d asked where to find Burakh’s Lair and been told, “Let your heart guide you.” He’d scoffed, but felt himself drifting all the same. To the train tracks, walking that uneven path until now. Daniil doesn’t ask or so much as wonder how he knows where he is, because he doesn’t believe his heart is capable of telling direction. He just looks at this place, and suddenly, he knows.

Daniil feels a pit in his stomach, dropping out. Looking at the building feels odd, like he’s touching something beyond what he should be able to reach, trespassing on private property. And he is doing just that, in all technicality. Better the intrusion than the wait. Better to fumble trying to do something than do nothing at all. He supposes he could have sent a courier to find Burakh, they’d ceased to communicate via secondhand messengers days ago, perhaps even a week now. Something would have felt uneven and wrong in sending a third party here in Daniil’s place.

Mourning, Daniil thinks. The word comes through his mind like a train, force and noise and steam, overwhelming and brutal. If It’s true that Artemy has disappeared, never to return, Daniil will want this time to mourn his losses to himself. He couldn’t handle it if – No.

The doors to the hideout are not heavy so much as they are old, rusted protesting against the open. And when he steps in the first thing Daniil notes are the stains on the floor, blood leading down the stairs into a tiled room. This first floor smells of Earth, of herbs and the metallic sting of fresh blood. Daniil takes the stairs down to the tile, and realizes the smell of death mostly radiates from here.

A part of him wonders how the Haruspex managed to work in such a place. It’s dirty, blood on the floor and the operating table and the curtains that hide a bed. He can see dust on the shelves and the top of the cabinet. The tiles could really use a good scrubbing. Something in the thought makes his throat close up, tense, and he lets out a shaky breath. He can’t fault Artemy for not having the time to deal with menial work of his surroundings, but to think he’ll never get around to it – that Daniil will never get to nag him over it – he covers his mouth with his hand, and paces.

He needs to compartmentalize. To think, damn it, about what to do next, what moves to make. If he’s going to be alone now, fighting this plague, he needs to find out what progress Artemy was making. Pick up whatever trail he’d left behind, even if Daniil is totally unsuited to following through on it. Figure out where Rubin is and… And… And he feels cold against his cheek. This isn’t how things were meant to go. Artemy was a fighter, a healer, and he was meant to pull through all this. He was meant to produce a vial of blood for Daniil to study, and produce a panacea from that sample. They were meant to survive, to be together. It all feels so very bleak without him.

There’s the sound of metal scraping as the doors open once again, and Daniil takes a breath to ready himself. It’s Sticky, he figures, it must be. He hasn’t seen the boy around Town recently, and this will be the worst way to greet him. He nudges at his face with his wrists to wipe away the few tears that made it past his eyelashes, and turns to find himself faced with Artemy.

The Haruspex looks strangely energized for the ordeal he must have just gone through, eyes wide as he looks at Daniil. He presses his fingers to Daniil’s neck, and Daniil swears he can feel his pulse through the pads. “Have you been crying, oynon?” Daniil runs his tongue along his lips, and opts to ignore his composure. His hands grasp at the front of Artemy’s shirt, pulling him down to weld their lips together.

The scent of blood makes Daniil’s head reel, mouth hard pressed against Artemy’s. Artemy stumbles forward, pinning him to the larger alembic, his hands warm and dirty against Daniil’s vest. Daniil opens his mouth to admonish him, for scaring him with the idea he might’ve died in that damned abattoir doing god knows what, but Artemy catches his open lip, his hands moving up to Daniil’s face. Instead of a protest, Daniil makes an embarrassing noise, his face burning. He’s not sure where to put his hands on Artemy, settling on his chest.

Artemy leans into his hands, letting out a soft moan, and pushes his knee between Daniil’s legs, hitting against his groin. Daniil takes this to be a hint, groping Artemy with intent through the rough fabric of his clothes, and letting Artemy fall against him. Artemy breaks from his mouth to nip at Daniil’s jaw, lips soft and teeth pinching at tender skin. Daniil moves his hands to Artemy’s waist, hiking up his tunic to run his fingers up Artemy’s back. Artemy’s mouth hits the start of his neck and he bites harder, bites wider around Daniil’s flesh, grinding his knee in place. Daniil’s body tries to grab at him, tries to cling to his body through his clothes, exhaling as he spreads his legs apart. His gloves form a barrier, keeping him from sinking his nails in the way he’d like to. He feels useless like this, consumed by the heat of Artemy’s mouth against his neck.

He jerks his hips to rub against Artemy’s thigh, hands turning to fists against his back. Artemy grunts, putting his hands to Daniil’s waist to push him back. He leaves a wet kiss against Daniil’s neck as he goes, letting Daniil’s heels fall back to the floor. He sets his eyes on Daniil as he starts to dismantle his tunic, but it’s too much to look at. Daniil feels the flush warming over his entire body, using this moment to work his gloves off, hands shaking. He manages a whole one before his eyes flicker to the bizarre toy in the corner, goosebumps breaking out over the back of his neck. Artemy follows his gaze, and the ghost of a smirk crosses his face. He moves, bare-chested, to turn it in the other direction.

Daniil starts to set his gloves on the operating table and feels a pull on his hips. He sets the heels of his palms against the edge, pinned again by Artemy’s hands. Only his right hand sits free of the glove, Artemy ignoring his half-finished undressing in favor of tugging at the pin that holds his cravat in place. He frowns at it, brows furrowing in impatience, and Daniil swats his hand away to work on it himself. Artemy turns his attention back to Daniil’s waist. It takes little time for him to strip Daniil’s belt away, to hook his fingers under the waistband of his trousers and sink down with it. Artemy grazes his lips on the inside of Daniil’s thigh as he tugs off his shoes, mouth light and teasing. He works his way up in a pattern Daniil can’t unravel, one hand pressing his left thigh open and the other setting his hip in place as he mouths Daniil’s center, tongue darting out to run along his seam. Daniil’s fingers curve over the lip of the table, and tilts back, his heart pounding in his ears. Artemy kisses over him, and stands, pushing at his hips until Daniil slides further up on the table.

Then he puts his hands on either side of Daniil’s waist, and pulls over top of him.

It takes Daniil a moment of open admiration to reach for Artemy’s hips, less delicate in his movements to free him of his trousers than he had been with his own cravat. He’s feeling more desperate now, aching to see Artemy fully, to know the texture of their bodies pressed together. But Artemy only allows the pants to fall down past his knees before he straddles Daniil’s left thigh. He hovers, shadow falling over Daniil, pulling at his vest. Daniil lets him at it without interference, mind buzzing at the feeling of Artemy’s sex against his skin.

“You wear too damn many layers,” Artemy says. It comes out gruff, his hands pushing up Daniil’s shirt once his vest is opened. He pulls at this too, popping buttons off in his haste to roll the aforementioned layers from his shoulders. Daniil tugs at his binder, pulling it up over his head before he leans closer to Artemy, tracing and squeezing his breasts. Artemy moves in closer, sliding over Daniil’s open thigh to press their lips together. Artemy pushes Daniil back down to the table and looms over him, Daniil’s hands roaming up to his collarbone, and cups his right breast as he ruts against Daniil’s thigh. Daniil presses his tongue to Artemy’s lips and lets Artemy pull him in, curl his tongue around Daniil’s own. Artemy’s hand travels lightly down Daniil’s side until he hits his opposite thigh, spreading it on the table. “Keep it open,” he says. Daniil hooks his heel under the edge of the table.

Artemy doesn’t start slow. He takes two fingers to cover Daniil’s clitoris and start to rub in fast, tight circles. Daniil’s hips squirm on the table, longing to buck up but held in place by the weight of Artemy on his thigh. He shifts from circles to back-and-forth rubbing, before sliding his fingers back to skate between Daniil’s folds. Daniil whines where their lips meet, growing wetter against Artemy’s fingers. His fingers are teasing, dipping deep and rubbing hard before pulling back to trace his outline. Daniil wiggles his left thigh against Artemy’s body and revels in the more insistent thrusts he receives back. His hands travel down to Artemy's stomach, and Artemy rolls against him, dampening his thigh.
He runs his fingers back through the wet and presses one against his entrance. He pushes, and Daniil welcomes it, body pulling the digit further inside. Daniil tries to sit up, to touch more of Artemy’s body, and finds himself pushed back down by the shoulder. The table is cold against his back, sending a chill across his body. He feels his nipples harden at the touch, mouth open against Artemy’s as the other man fingers him. Artemy presses another against his entrance and pushes to open him, catching Daniil’s gasp with his lips. Daniil squeezes around his fingers, and Artemy’s breath shakes. He starts his hips up again, rutting on Daniil’s leg, not slowing the pace of his fingers as he adds a third inside.

Daniil’s head hits the table, letting out a small cry as Artemy tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth. Artemy pulls his fingers out and rubs Daniil’s cunt in time to his own thrusts against Daniil’s leg while Daniil wiggles his hips and tries not to whine. He fails. He can feel Artemy smirking against his mouth as his fingers push back inside and fuck him quickly. Artemy curls his fingers and Daniil lets out a moan muffled by Artemy’s lips. He rolls his fingers back out to grind his palm against Daniil’s clit, moving his mouth to Daniil’s ear to grumble, “Let me hear you.”

His nails try to dig into the table as Artemy moves in again, fingers curled and coaxing his body. He wants to reach out and touch the man on top of him, but he feels so dizzy and breathless, as though he might fall off the table if he tried to move. Artemy’s tongue presses against his ear as his fingers thrust hard. Daniil feels the fingers hit something and his mouth goes slack, panting the word Yes over and over as his vision starts to go spotty, Artemy chasing his orgasm with speed. He comes with a loud cry, an ugly gasp, his back trying to arch past Artemy’s grip on his shoulder.
The body against his shakes as Artemy pulls his fingers out, resting his hands on the table to focus on humping Daniil’s thigh. Daniil touches at his stomach with his gloved hand, fingers teasing down where Artemy grinds against him, and lets Artemy rub straight against his palm. Daniil lifts his middle and pointer fingers to rub between his folds and lays steady as Artemy pulls his hips up. He straightens his fingers, and watches Artemy sink down on them.
The heat of his body is so much more than Daniil could have ever imagined, slick and warm even over his gloves. His free hand grabs Artemy’s waist, thumb caressing the skin gently as Artemy works himself on Daniil’s hand. Daniil wiggles his fingers as Artemy sinks down and smiles at the groan that passes his lips, head tilted back. He curls his fingers just as Artemy had done for him, rubbing toward himself as Artemy rocks on him. He feels Artemy’s walls squeeze around his fingers and does his best to work his wrist up in little thrusts until Artemy chokes and starts to come.

Artemy still hovers over him for a second before he pushes Daniil’s wrist back and out from his body, and rests his weight on top of him. Daniil pulls his hand back to his face, spreading his fingers to look at the cum coating them. He considers it for a minute before he hooks his forefinger under the cuff of his glove, and drops it to the floor, running his hand through Artemy’s hair. He can still feel Artemy’s wet pussy against his thigh, and jostles against it. “Not again,” Artemy breathes, deadpan. “Not yet.”

“Hm. Yes. Next time, I think we should use a bed,” Daniil says. “This table of yours is filthy. Probably contracted several bloodborne diseases just now.”

“What makes you think the bed’s any better?” Daniil would swat at him if he wasn’t so exhausted. All the adrenaline has left his body in one go. Instead, he tips his head until it smacks into Artemy’s, and lets his eyes flutter shut. His body tingles at the light touch Artemy puts on his waist, running up his side. “Not that I’m complaining,” he begins, his nose grazing Daniil’s cheek, “But what brought this on?”

“You didn’t meet me in the Termitary,” he says. “They told me you’d gone into the Abattoir, and they weren’t sure if you’d even come out alive. They told me if you survived you’d be some place my heart would take me.”

“So your Line lead you here.” Artemy is quiet for a moment, turning his head to kiss Daniil’s cheek. Then he shifts, sitting up on the table and pulling Daniil up with him. “We can’t sleep on this thing now, it’s filthy.”

“Are you saying it wasn’t before?” he ignores the look he feels coming his direction in favor of picking up his undergarments and trousers from the floor, sliding them back up his hips before he reaches for his shirt. The sleeves and the back of his vest are stained now from the way he’d been held against the table. He grimaces. Doesn’t want to even think about how much it’ll cost to have those stains removed. It’s also all he has to wear for the moment, going through the motions of redressing himself before Artemy catches him at the elbow.

The look in his eyes is a soft one, less manic than it had been when he’d come in the Lair. “Stay,” he says quietly. “There’s a bed in the back there you can sleep on. I know it isn’t big enough for the both of us,” he says, when Daniil opens his mouth to argue, “But I won’t be using it soon anyway. I have work to do out here. You just… Stay.”

Daniil isn’t sure what he wants to say. He knows that what he should say is no; he has his own work to attend to. But the way Artemy is looking at him makes it hard to pull away. He feels himself swaying internally, before he finally topples over in Artemy’s direction. “Alright,” he acquiesces, “But next time, we do this at my place.”