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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feeding while fucking, anyone?
I prefer artemy as his partner, but if you have any other ships in mind - I would love to see that.
bonus if daniil is trans.

There are two different modes of hunger warring for dominance in Daniil’s stomach, sitting with his back a little too straight against the chair, grip a little too tight around his pen. The first is an aching pit in his stomach, threatening to swallow his body whole. It saps his strength, pulling what little keeps him living down into an abyss in the pit of his belly as he tries, desperately, to focus on something of greater importance. In the city he could go for weeks without feeding and never notice the difference, but the Sand Pest has been a drain on all his resources and it tears at him, demanding he not ignore it. It’s like the claws of a cat sinking into his flesh, tongue running over the sharpened edges of his teeth as he tries to focus his attention on the microscope in front of him.

The second – the second is a burning skin, invigorating, attuning all of his attention in another direction, hyper aware of his surroundings. His eyes widen, his mouth waters, the ghost of his pulse elevates. Funny, how being dead didn’t change the sensation of arousal all that much. Fear, excitement, hunger. All of it the exact same as when he still had a beating heart. When his time comes, and the Pest or the citizens of this town make an end of him, he wonders what Burakh will see in the corners of his body. His brain must be what keeps him still ticking, still feeling all these things he shouldn’t when everything should have shut down.

Maybe he’ll ask him sometime. After the fog has lifted, the dense particles of sick have dispersed and the town is back to normal. He’ll offer him a drink and ask if he’s ever heard of creatures that roam the night in search of a warm body to feast into, what he’d make of how they live. He can see the sparkle in the bright hues of his eyes, laughing at Daniil for believing in something so childish. And Daniil will smile, ask the man to humor him, and take his words with him when he leaves. Because he must leave; in the City such things are regarded as a fairytale, a bedtime story, and Burakh is educated just enough to feel the same. But he is not the local population. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.

The man on the bed stirs, and Daniil sucks his lip between his teeth, scribbling down a note on the sheet of paper he’s torn out to work with. Useless, all of it. What they need is some sort of chimera, and Daniil’s yet to see such a thing even here, where the impossible is probable. His further attempts at a vaccine are laughable at best, but that’s no reason to give up. He has such little in the way of options left to him.

He turns in his seat, arm over the back of his chair, and watches Artemy rest his feet upon the ground. He’s learned the rules of the house well enough to keep his shoes by the door to keep the bed free of the mud he’ll have collected in the indents. It’s just the sort of well-meaning but useless pleasantry Daniil is used to; it doesn’t, after all, mean the bed has actually been kept clean. They both carry the plague on their backs, on their clothes, sinking into their skin from the terror of the world just outside the door. The stress weighs heavy on them both, and Daniil watches Artemy roll his neck to lift some of the burden in the cracks of his joints, fingers curled over the edge of the bed.

Daniil watches, and he hungers.

“I trust you slept well?” The question amounts to little, and he knows Artemy will say he slept fine as if Daniil couldn’t hear the way he turned in his sleep, the soft rustle of fabric moving as he twitched. It’s beneath Daniil to notice such things, beneath him to care, because there’s so little he can do to soothe the troubled mind that he things Artemy would agree to. He’s not above hypnosis here or there, but something about touching Artemy with his glamour makes him feel ill. Worse than the gnawing sensation making its way to his fingertips, fingers trembling as his script grows less and less legible.

Artemy, to his credit, doesn’t bother to lie. He shrugs instead, and Daniil follows the roll of his shoulders with one leg crossing over the other. He can’t sate that hunger, either. “I’ve had better.” Daniil squeezes his legs, but the result is mere frustration. I could give you better, he thinks, and has to angle his head down to keep from giving his colleague a look he does not deserve. He wants, yes, of course. He wants Burakh so badly his head spins, but he won’t resort to trickery to get him. Things will happen or they won’t, and Daniil would rather they don’t than cheat his way into affection. “Have you eaten?”

A hoarse, bitter laugh nearly works its way to the surface. Daniil refrains with a pained look, covering his mouth with a gloved hand. “No,” he says. Perhaps he should have lied; Artemy stands now to approach him, movements slow as he works his way across the room. “There’s nothing around to eat,” he defends, and in a way it is true. He will not risk exposure by feeding on his Bound, and nor does he desire to know the taste of Sand Pest beneath his tongue. He’s not expecting Artemy to outturn his pocket and produce an apple for him, setting it on his desk.

With great disdain, Daniil sighs. “O curas hominum…” Artemy tilts his head, and pushes the apple closer toward him, eyes a bold challenge. Daniil does not duck his head yet, caught as he is by Artemy’s gaze. His hips beg to squirm, his body longs to wrap around the strong form of the man in front of him, his base desires growing stronger the longer he goes without indulging. Artemy’s fingers walk up the side of the apple, toying with the stem, and Daniil’s mind surges. He gets the feeling the fruit is not the only one being played with.

“What’s wrong, oynon?” The words are steady, unaware of the question they ask. Daniil watches Artemy’s fingers pinch the stem, and settle, one fingertip against the top. “Don’t like apples?” He should shake his head, claim an allergy, but the way Artemy stares holds his attention rapt. As if Artemy is the one who possesses the ability to hypnotize, and not Daniil. His hand lifts and sets fingers against Daniil’s cheek, thumb pressed to his lips. He pushes past them, thumb grazing the sharp points of Daniil’s teeth. “You have such pretty teeth for biting.”

His mouth waters as thumb brushes tongue. He wills his fangs to retract, grip excruciating on the back of his seat. It’s too late, now – Artemy has slid his thumb against a sharp point, not quite deep enough to cut into flesh. Daniil brushes his tongue out against the pad of Artemy’s thumb, and feels the vibrations of Artemy’s body as he shivers. He pulls at Daniil’s top lip until his sharpened teeth are exposed on the bottom. The hungers in his stomach are starting to combine now, to form one big wave to wash him over. Daniil nearly growls as Artemy’s thumb leaves his mouth, and he says the words he had before falling asleep once more: “You need to eat.”

There’s a droning in Daniil’s head, a drive to follow instinct, to reach out and touch Artemy. He holds himself in place, body tense as he watches the other man move. “I can’t,” Daniil says. The words are simple, and yet his gaze betrays him, swallowing Artemy’s form whole. He watches the man rock back on his heels and tug at the neck of his sweater. His eyes fix on the tug of his fingers. He should hold out the pretense for as long as he can, but lies fail him when Artemy lifts his head to expose his neck. “Mortal food cannot sustain me.”

“I know,” Artemy says. Daniil watches his fingers move across his buckles, undoing the tunic and lifting it from his head. Surprise settles easily over him. He should be frightened that Artemy knows, worried about the inevitable hunt that will end his life, but Artemy works with such a casual nature that Daniil cannot help but feel assured in his safety. “That is why I am offering my neck to you.”

There it is again, that phantom pulse, rabbiting as Artemy pulls up the hem of his sweater and exposes his soft stomach, his broad chest, his strong shoulders – so many places for Daniil to sink his teeth into. Daniil finds his legs spreading, heat spreading to his groin as he leans in his seat toward his colleague. His eyes roam up from the buckle of his belt to his brow, trying to keep a neutral expression. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Burakh?” It’s too late for Daniil to do much more to turn back, his left hand already tracing a pattern on Artemy’s chest. He can hear the rapid beat of the other man’s heart. If he removed his glove, he could feel it. “You’re playing with fire, here.”

NOT OP BUT OH DEAR GOD THIS IS ALREADY GOOD

i am anxiously awaiting part 2 hoo boy

Artemy’s fingers curl up under Daniil’s chin, directing his gaze upwards. “Then I look forward to the burn,” he says. Daniil stands, but Artemy does not retreat, his hand falling to Daniil’s shoulder. Daniil pushes him back until his knees hit the bed and he sits, his hands on Daniil’s waist. Daniil removes his gloves in a slow, fluid motion, nails grown out to scrape at the skin of his cheek as Daniil touches him. He moves Artemy’s head enough to press his lips to the section where jaw meets ear and listens, feels as his pulse triples.
Daniil takes his time in kissing down Artemy’s neck, even as his stomach protests the leisurely pace. His skin is soft, slightly salt under his tongue, but sweet and heady all the same. He can taste just below the surface when he sucks on a section and Artemy catches his breath, hands slipping lower, fingers curved around Daniil’s ass. Daniil sets his knees on either side of Artemy’s hips, and drags his teeth against raised skin.

A change hits the air the second Daniil’s teeth dig into Artemy’s neck. He hears it in the gasp Artemy lets out, small though it is. But there’s a scent, too, and a shift in the body under his. And he knows now that Artemy feels the hunger, too, unsated. His fingers tremble against Daniil’s body, tightening as his fangs sink deeper in. The first taste of blood fills Daniil’s head with a dizziness, and when he settles in Artemy’s lap he feels the want pressing up against him. He grinds against it, and the blood that flows tastes all the sweeter for the excitement coursing through it now.

He drops his left hand to tug Artemy’s belt and buttons undone, his touch light on the outline of his erection. He’s always thought the chill of his hands would make the body shrink away from him if he ever tried to satisfy this need, but Artemy’s hips roll up to him. He pulls the band of his undergarments down over his cock, wrapping his fingers around him and tugging. He feels Artemy’s swallow against his lips as he sucks on his flesh, stroking him slowly. He rolls his own hips against Artemy’s lap, body desperate for stimulation, and feels the buckle of his belt being discarded, his own button and zip being unmade. Artemy’s hand is warmer slipping down the front of his slacks, and Daniil eagerly ruts against his fingers.

His trousers work their way down his hips to his thighs, and Daniil squeezes his fist around Artemy’s cock, sucking hard on his neck. Artemy grunts, rocking up into his fist, and his hands slip, jerking Daniil’s trousers to his knees. Daniil feels the arousal peak, and he growls, dislodging his teeth from Artemy’s neck to push him by the shoulders back onto the bed. The other man’s eyes are eclipsed in black now, only rimmed by the smallest ring of blue. Daniil settles his wet sex over Artemy’s cock, adjusting his folds so the shaft is nestled between them, and digs his teeth in lower, closer to Artemy’s shoulder as he starts to rock on him.

Artemy wraps his arms around Daniil’s back, heart racing. Daniil’s lips purse, drawing up more blood as he starts to thrust his hips. He anchors his hands in the bedsheets, trying to spread his legs wide enough to give himself the friction he needs to get off. It’s a lovely feeling, Artemy’s prick hard and hot under his weight, trapped between Daniil’s body and his stomach. Artemy’s breath stutters in his chest as Daniil moves harder, moves faster, his hands roaming to Daniil’s backside to squeeze him. The motion spurs him on, snapping his hips against Artemy’s length. Artemy chokes beneath him, fingers tight just under his ass.

He jerks his hips up to grind his cock against the head of Artemy’s, listening to the other man swear hoarsely in his ear. Artemy’s hips rock up, trying to gain some control over the situation, and Daniil slides back down to the base of his cock. His partner whines, nails digging into Daniil’s skin as he tries to rock his hips up. So Daniil lifts himself off Artemy’s cock and teases him with the outline of his folds, Artemy’s hips working absently to find Daniil’s again. Daniil settles back down and rolls himself from base to tip, tugging on Artemy’s skin and lapping up the blood that pools to the surface.

“Fuck.” Artemy jerks under him, his blood flowing faster into Daniil’s mouth as his heartrate races. Daniil carefully moves his left hand from the bed to Artemy’s chest, running his nails lightly along his pectoral. He sets his palm flat against his nipple and starts to squeeze, and Artemy rubs his cock hard between Daniiil’s folds. “More,” he pants, “I need more of you.”

Daniil dislodges from Artemy’s shoulder again, sitting up on Artemy’s lap, still rocking against him. Artemy balances him by moving those warm hands up to frame his hips, and Daniil wipes his mouth off on his sleeve, leaving a trail of blood behind on it. There’s still a stream of red on Artemy’s shoulder, Daniil’s mind taken off with it as it leads down to the bed. “You’re needy for a meal,” he comments, but he climbs off Artemy’s lap, letting his slacks fall to the floor. Artemy sits up to shuck off his own trousers as Daniil pulls his shoes off. He moves to stand between Artemy’s spread legs, his cock nearly hitting his stomach, and shoves his shoulder back down to the bed, fingers harsh against the swell of his bite. Artemy winces, but doesn’t otherwise protest as Daniil pushes his thighs up, and looms over him.

Artemy’s cock throbs as he takes it in hand, spreading the precum around the head, pulling down on the shaft. He can hear Artemy’s heart skip a beat when he runs his tongue over his lips, leaning his thighs against Artemy’s. He runs the tip of Artemy’s cock between his folds until it presses back against his entrance, and starts to sink down it.

In the seconds he needs to take in Artemy’s cock, he appreciates the form of his partner on the bed, his eyes hazy with lust, his dirty blonde hair a tousled mess, his tan skin so soft and warm beneath Daniil’s pale, cold body. He hardly needs a moment to adjust himself to the intrusion, leaning over with his hands on either side of Artemy’s head. Artemy’s hands grab at his thighs again as he slides up and slams down, watching the other man’s eyes flutter closed, mouth dropping open. “Beautiful,” Daniil comments, and does it again. Artemy’s fingers bite into his flesh, though nothing would hard enough to leave bruises on dead skin. Danill bows his head down to lick the bites he’s left on Artemy’s shoulder, listening to him huff and grunt as Daniil fucks himself on his cock.

Daniil kisses down his shoulder and pulls his head back up to watch Artemy’s face as he rolls his body up and back down hard, fingers tight in the bedspread, wishing they could be digging into flesh instead. Artemy opens his eyes weakly, face flushed, body framed by his thighs. Daniil grins. “You look so good, I could eat you,” he says. His body squeezes around Artemy’s cock and his partner’s pulse jumps, making a helpless little noise. Daniil dips his head to brush their lips together, and finds himself surprised at how readily his affection is accepted.

He starts to work his way down the other shoulder, and Artemy groans, “Please.” Artemy tilts his head to bear his neck, and Daniil feels his hips writhe uselessly on the bed. “Again,” he says, “bite me again.” Daniil sucks a teasing kiss into his skin, listening to him keen. His hips try to work up into Daniil’s, grunting as he never quite manages to alter the pace of things. Finally, when his fingers have let up their grip on Daniil’s thighs, Daniil bites.

Artemy gasps, his chest rising up to meet Daniil’s. “Fuck, yes,” he moans, fingers twitching against Daniil’s skin. Artemy whimpers as Daniil draws his blood up, hands moving up to scratch at Daniil’s back through his vest. Daniil goes tight as he slides down Artemy’s cock, and he can tell his partner’s close now, breathlessly repeating his name as Daniil works them closer to the edge. He sinks his bottom teeth into the bite, digging in for a bruise, and Artemy cries out, coming apart. Daniil grunts against his shoulder, thrusting faster until he hits his own climax, rocking himself on Artemy’s cock through it.

When he pulls off he’s pleasantly full, licking the excess blood from his lips before he rolls off his partner. Artemy sets his thighs down, left knee brushing Daniil’s right. “You’ll have to wash your shirt now,” Artemy comments, his fingers lazily tracing the stain of blood across the sleeve. “Next time we do this, you’ll have to get rid of the shirt first.” And then he doesn’t afford Daniil the dignity of asking Next time? You want there to be a ‘next time’?, leaning on his side to kiss him.

not the requester but hell yeah. hell yeah. i love it.

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