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

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)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(dated March 2nd, 18XX)

My darling Victor,

Is that the best that you can do? I know I had you pegged for a quiet man, a man of simple pleasures, but this is simply too much. It isn’t as though I mind holding hands with you, but I had envisioned something a little more daring. Perhaps I ought to show you what I mean? Take this, in example:

It’s a lucky thing for us you keep house a reasonable space from any neighbors. It wouldn’t befit people of our standing for the public to hear the noise we’ll make when you return home to me. I hope you haven’t scheduled any meetings out ahead, those architects be damned. You are my husband first, and all else second. You have marital duties to perform when you arrive.

I know that you are a shy man, so I won’t expect you to take me right there in the doorway – but I hope you won’t insist on getting under the covers before we start. It’s been too long since I’ve seen your body. I need to know its taste from the pads of my fingers, drawing breath from you with every stroke of my hand. Your family aspires to a higher plane of existence, and I can give that to you. But maybe I won’t; maybe I’ll tease you, punish you for being away so long. I won’t let you touch relief until you’ve begged me for it. I know it’s not an easy thing for a man of your family, but I have no doubt I can wring the words from your mouth. It looks best curved around my name, anyway.

Your wife,
Nina

(dated May 5th, 18XX)

A,

Per your last letter. I take it there is something lacking in our correspondence, but I’m not sure how much I can promise. Unclear on the amount of censorship performed on incoming letters. Are Inquisitors-to-be permitted such solicitations? Or would they not consider our relationship a scandal? We are only two women, after all. Even if one of us is an Inquisitor.

I’ll try to be brief. I know you appreciate that sort of thing, at least when it comes to letters. You protest when my hand is between your thighs, but you look so much better the longer I linger there. You were so certain you’d be the one above me. Have you convinced your peers that’s where you belong? I hope you have. I hope no one else conceives of the pleasure of you on your back. I know I left my marks before you went back to training – nowhere easily seen, but I wonder if their touch distracted you in classes. I can imagine you, legs crossed tightly. Did you start to rub your thighs together and stop, all at once, aware of your surroundings? Do you even take the tights off before you’re thinking of me? You’re rather impatient, given your chosen profession. I guess I’ll have to teach you how to wait.

Will this satisfy you for now?

Fondly,
Y

(dated February 22nd, 18XX)

Danya,

Been starting to get restless again. Moved to architecture with my brother (don’t think you ever met him). I’m not much for the theoretical. Found I’d rather get out there, get my hands dirty. Studying’s gotten me nowhere. Tests are easy enough, but what’s the point if you’re not doing anything with it? So I’ve been out prowling the streets, looking for some kind of trouble to get into. Not sure if you’ve heard about it. Chances are you will do.
Saw Dimitri back at the old haunt. Says you haven’t left your lab in a fortnight. Broke up again, he figures. So I’m here writing this, one friend to another. Just like old times, right? All you’ll have to do is imagine me there with you.

Start off on your stomach. I’m sure you remember the way my nails bite in your skin. You can put a pillow under your hips if you like, so long as you don’t give into pressure. Not just yet. Remember the heels of my hands on your back, grinding all those places you can’t reach; between your shoulder blades, mid spine, your lower back. You like to fake that you can’t touch there because my hands are rougher. You always liked to be the pretty boy, the softer one. Pliable and elegant.

You’d be more comfortable with your shirt off, Danko. Don’t wait for me to undress. Settle yourself back down, and quit your bitching. You know you’ll like it when you let yourself relax.

Bet I can feel your ribs when I run my hands down your sides. You never were good at taking care of yourself during long hours at the university. That’s why you need someone to take care of you, and I’m here now. Your briefs slide so easily down your hips. At least your ass gives me something to grab onto. You squirm when I get you like this, even before the oil hits your body. I let it slide between your cheeks for a moment, just to tease you. I like the way you roll your hips up to me. Makes it easier when I press my finger against you. You’re only haughty until I’ve got a finger in you, then you’re rutting against me. I don’t even need to do much in the way of work. But I will. I’ll push another finger into you and spread them. Curl them. I still know where to touch to make your toes dig in the bedsheets. I’ll take it slow just to watch you buck up into me, and I’ll pull back nice and slowly.

I’ll wait until you’ve started to settle down, and fill you. I want to watch your nails dig in the bedspread, to hear you curse under your breath. Those guys you’re with never give you the right kind of satisfaction, and I can put my finger against it and push until you’re rubbing off on the pillow.

I think you’ll feel better when your cock isn’t so heavy. Think about it.

Cheers,
Andrei

(dated September 2nd, 19XX)

My lovely and gentle Yulia,

It seems you know me all too well! I have found myself in exactly the predicament you described. Is it ridiculous for a grown woman to be jumping at shadows so? But everything feels like it’s ending, and I can feel the ground rushing up toward me just as if I were falling. My head aches. My heart aches. My whole chest aches, at times, and I miss you.

I won’t break this quarantine my Daniil has instated, but being without you is torture! How is imagination supposed to make up for the warmth of your embrace? For your delicate fingers against my collar? The calming smell of your cigarettes? He tells me to stay at home, to rest and stay hydrated, and I do. I lay in bed all morning and think of you.

It feels strange, writing it to you like this. When was the last time we were together – truly together? I think of the weight of you in bed beside me, your hand trailing down my arm, and I get goosebumps. We thought we’d have all the time for another date, another kiss, another touch. Or at least, I did. You’re always so ahead of things. Did you know? And do you know, now, that I am lying in bed again, dizzy with the thought of you?

If I close my eyes, tilt my head back, stretch my back just right… I can almost feel you. Your fingers on my stomach, your kisses on my lips, and both trailing down. You could push aside my skirt and set your hand upon my thigh. And I know you like the way I taste against your tongue, but I want to taste you, too. You do everything for me, Yulia, and never ask for much in return. I want to return your kindness, reciprocate the love you show me. Let me undress you. Let me push your sweater away and kiss your breasts. I know you’re not as open as I am, but at least let me roll your tights down and press my lips to you. I’ll keep your leg supported by my shoulder, and you won’t have to worry for a thing!

Perhaps I shouldn’t make this letter so intimate. I don’t know if you would like to receive such a thing. These kinds of thoughts are better whispered in close quarters, over low-lit candles and bottles of twyrine. Then I could tell you all the things I want to do, the ways I want to hear you say my name.

When this Pest is over. I want to feel you, the sheets, and nothing else.

All my love,
Eva

(dated November 23rd, 19XX)

Artemy,

I can’t say I’m displeased that you think of me as such a gentleman, but wherever did you get the idea I’d be prudish? Are you sure that’s not projection, my dear? I’ve received letters of sexual intent from many past lovers. I can’t say all of them did something for me. The words are nice, of course; always good to know you leave an impact on the person you’re romancing, but I find it difficult to get off from words on paper.

You, on the other hand… I can imagine your face going bright with blush. Have you ever received such a missive? A little part of me hopes that you haven’t. I’d really like to be your first. It’s such a shame we couldn’t fuck before I had to leave Town. Sex isn’t everything, of course, but sex with you would be so nice. I used to listen to you dream when you slept in my bed, listen to your little grunts and imagine them coming harder, faster. Then you’d wake, and the outline of your cock would press against your trousers and I’d wonder what you dreamt of that you woke in such a state. I’d gotten myself jealous, thinking it was one of your barely-clothed steppe girls – but now, I wonder. Was it me you were dreaming of? Should I have given into reckless urge and woken you with my mouth around your cock? You’d look good with your eyes blown wide, mouth a little open, hand in my hair and bucking into my face.

I hope you’re touching yourself just reading about it. Sitting on that matt you call a bed in your workshop, fist around your length. Would you like to know all the ways I touch myself when I think about you? Because I do, Artemy. I think of you when I’m on my back in bed, tugging on myself. It never feels like enough, because it’s never you. And I’d prefer your hands over mine – on my chest, on my thighs, stroking me. I coat my fingers in oil and run them over my entrance, pretending yours are the fingers that open me.

Did you know I’d get on hands and knees for you? You should feel honored. Few men ever see that side of me. I don’t know that you’d like it. You’re too sentimental. You’d want to see my face when we’re “making love”. But just once, you should take me like this. You’ll slide in deeper with my hips angled down, body pleading for your cock. You can push my face into the mattress and fuck me ‘til you have me in tears, begging you to let me come. This is what I think of when I sink on my fingers: You, filling me, not even needing to touch my prick to make me dirty the sheets. And the neighbors must think I have you over, for I’ve cried out your name so many times this week, just pleasuring myself.

I should be back within the month, and then we can try out your bed together. You’ll want to do something sensible for a date, I suspect, but I beg you: please, no theatre. I think we’ve had more than enough for a while.

Yours,
D. Dankovsky

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Pathologic Kink Meme!

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