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 - morning wood + embarrassment - FILL

[(Anonymous)]

Daniil's dreams had been surprisingly calm and his sleep unexpectedly restful, considering the stress and hurry of the ongoing crisis, and yet he immediately, viscerally regretted it, all because of the way he'd just now awoken.

It was a simple enough matter to have shared a mattress with Burakh, even if that mattress was far from large enough for the both of them at once. And while it was awkward, nothing especially bothered Daniil about having ended up little spoon to Burakh's broad embrace, either, save for how it stopped him from being able to get up and out of bed without waking Burakh up. Daniil felt warm and bleary. Comfortable, even.

And there were a thousand points of anxiety raising gooseflesh down his back. Because he couldn't move away without drawing attention to himself, but nor could he simply stay here, pretending he couldn't feel the half-hard press of Burakh's sizeable prick against his ass. He couldn't. There were the obvious ethical concerns, for one thing, on top of which it was literally going to drive him insane.

Their bodies were crescented together. At some point in the night they'd shifted from lying respectably parallel to all but cuddling, with Burakh's arms wrapped firmly around Daniil's middle and holding his back flush against Burakh's torso: the muscles there, the faint beat of his heart. (And Daniil knew where all that blood was pumping, didn't he.)

Burakh's unconscious breath was warm at the back of Daniil's neck. Daniil made a concentrated effort to shut his eyes, block out his sense of touch somehow, and will himself with every ounce of hope in his body to fall back asleep. If luck was on his side, Burakh's erection would peacefully subside or he'd roll onto his back and release Daniil from this hell.

Neither of those things happened. Daniil couldn't even fall asleep. He was far too aware of the rigid length nestled against his body, so terribly close to where he'd want one to be if this were a different time, circumstance, and bed companion entirely. Heat was building in his core and his nerves were alight with excitement for something that was absolutely not going to happen.

A flash of images played through his thoughts in an instant. He could rut back against Burakh's erection and wait for the man to wake up, already roused, and see where things went from there. Maybe Burakh's confident, workmanlike hand would slip beneath the hem of his sleep bottoms and search into his wet heat. Maybe—

Anger and shame at himself exploded in Daniil's mind in an instant, like a lightning strike. All in what felt like a single motion, he threw Burakh's arms off from around himself and leapt out of bed. Only then did he realize how fast his own heart was pounding. How tightly he'd clenched his jaw.

Also like a lightning strike, everything was different in the aftermath. Where there might have been a smell of ozone in the air there was instead the quick, confused blinking of Burakh's eyes in the early dawn.

"Something on fire, oynon?"

Daniil's facial muscles made an admirable but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to render any expression besides his very strong desire to hurry down the stairs and out of the building. Through some miracle, he managed to keep his feet flat on the floorboards.

"Not exactly, no," he answered uncomfortably, with a pointed but unintentional glance further down the bed.

"...oh, shit."

"Right. So." Daniil turned on his heel then, facing his desk and pulling his chair out to sit down. He might not have been able to escape utter embarrassment, but it was in the past now, and he needed to get to work. So he told himself, ignoring the fully-body flush that hadn't even begun to lessen.

The mattress creaked gently as Burakh shifted around, turning himself to face the wall. "Sorry. That definitely wasn't intentional."

"It's biological," Daniil supplied, flipping his journal open to review his notes from before he'd gone to bed.

With Burakh.

"Biological. Yeah. But still—you know. Sorry."

Daniil let out a sigh and forced himself not to turn and look Burakh's way. He'd spent enough of this morning in an addled fit as it was. "I can't blame you for automatic physical functions that happen when you're literally unconscious, Burakh. It's fine."

"You jumped out of bed like I'd stabbed you," Burakh protested. "Although, heh, I guess in a manner of sp—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"Fair enough," Burakh laughed. There was still a thin line of discomfort in his tone of voice, but it seemed they could both be diplomatic about this mishap. Good. "...Do you want to finish what we started, though?"

Daniil froze up. Surely that was also a joke. Although it wasn't very funny—not that this would have been the first time that a supposed joke had flown right over his head. Slowly, he turned, leveling Burakh with a silent and blank stare.

"Sheesh," Burakh said, laughter still in his voice, "a 'no' would have worked too, you know. No need to try to kill me with your mind... Forget I said anything."

Daniil shook his head in disbelief. "You're ridiculous. Don't try to trip me up again; I'm working."

"Trip you—? Dankovsky, I was coming on to you."

"Sure." Despite himself, Daniil felt his cheeks warming in a blush, but he committed himself to ignoring it. Or, at any rate, to not acknowledging it.

He was less able to ignore the movement in his peripheral vision when Burakh sat up entirely. "Oynon. Dankovsky. Look at me."

Daniil did. Burakh was shirtless; apparently he slept only in a pair of underwear bottoms. Daniil was suddenly encountering some difficulty in keeping his gaze trained on Burakh's eyes. He was strong and broad and soft, hair trailing down his built torso and his sun-warmed skin.

Daniil wasn't looking at his eyes, was he? Shit.

"Yes?"

"So you're clearly somewhat distracted."

"And whose fault is that?"

"I'm not pointing fingers! I'm trying to say... What I mean is... Look, we may as well."

Daniil raised an eyebrow. "Does that line usually work well for you, Burakh?"

And Burakh clicked his tongue, tsking at Daniil's reticence. "How well do you usually do your work when you're distracted in this way? Maybe you're just that good at repression, and I've got something to learn from you."

"...no. Not really." With another sigh, but a much abbreviated one, Daniil pushed his microscope back further away from the edge of the desk and folded his notebook closed. "If you really mean this—"

"I really mean it."

"—then let's do it quickly. Neither of us can afford to waste more than," he calculated, pausing to glance out the window and find the sun, "...forty minutes or so."

Burakh snorted. "That's very precise."

"Someone has to be." Daniil shrugged as he stood up. He was doing his very best to seem casual about it all, as if he did this sort of thing frequently, but the ever-returning blush on his cheeks (and traveling down his chest and out to his ears) no doubt gave him away.

Luckily for him, Burakh seemed to be blushing too. His expression was screwed up in an awkward something that approached a smile as he fell back down onto his side and moved back to make room. His eagerness did a lot to lessen Daniil's nerves, though so did being able to immediately turn and face away from Burakh so he didn't have to worry about being seen.

They fitted together just the way they'd been before, the mattress creaking slightly as two grown men shifted around and got comfortable. Daniil felt slightly ridiculous as Burakh got hold of him and pulled him back into that tight embrace... But there was no denying how being held like that made him feel.

Wasting no time now that Burakh was aware of the situation and had given his permission, Daniil arched backward, rolling his hips to find Burakh's prick again. It had gone limp in the intervening minutes, but if Burakh's sharp gasp over Daniil's shoulder was any indication, that wouldn't be a problem for long.

Moreover, Artemy was doing more than his fair shape of helping this time, balancing out his prior unconsciousness by meeting Daniil halfway with forward rolls of his own hips, rutting against the thinly-clothed crease of his ass. He also slipped a hand up and under Daniil's sleep shirt. Burakh's wide palm spread heat up Daniil's belly toward his chest, keeping him embraced, secure, held.

Daniil's long, low moan could only have encouraged him. Soon enough Burakh was pinching a hardening nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his own breath heavy in Daniil's ear as Daniil gasped his own pleasure to match the hard rut of Burakh against him.

"Hold on— Burakh, wait, stop—"

"Mngh?" Burakh asked as his movements instantly stalled, then, somewhat more eloquently, "What's wrong?"

Daniil pushed away from him enough to turn around in his arms. Then nudged his far shoulder, encouraging him to fall over flat on his back, which he did.

"Nothing's wrong at all. I'm moving things forward," Daniil answered, in the same second he began unbuttoning his sleep shirt to throw it aside. His bottoms came off next and both clothings fell in an unceremonious heap on the floor.

The twitch of Burakh's prick was visible through the fabric of his underwear. "Forward's good," he confirmed all in a rush. "I'm a big fan of forward."

"As am I," Daniil agreed, tucking fingers under the hem of Burakh's underwear to pull it down to his knees.

As Daniil repositioned himself, spreading his legs wider so he could align Burakh's full length between the folds of his core, he felt Burakh kicking one leg around. Kicking the underwear off, Daniil realized, and grinned as he slowly began to move.

"Oh. Oh, fuck," Burakh moaned.

Daniil could only hum agreement. He'd screwed his eyes shut to focus on the feeling of the sweet drag of Burakh's cockhead against his own prick, enlarged and poking out of its hood. His own slick made it easy to ride the length of Burakh's prick. Each and every sliding thrust felt more natural and necessary than the last.

Burakh seemed to agree with that, too: his hands grabbed onto the soft of Daniil's ass, fingers digging in so hard it would probably mean bruises, just to slip harder and more efficiently against him.

This was what Daniil had wanted. The heat and the movement and the building need. This had been his private daydream and the cause of his sudden horror not more than fifteen minutes ago. Exactly this.

"F-fuck, Dankovsky... I need—Let me fuck you. I mean," Burakh interrupted, correcting himself, "if you, uh, want that. Because I want that."

Now it was Daniil who laughed a little, giddy and flattered, and brought his movements to a lazy, barely-there rocking. He drew out the long seconds before he responded just to watch the desperate hope in Burakh's eyes.

Then, finally: "Yes, I want that, too."

He sat up on wobbly knees to assess the mess he'd made of them both. Burakh's prick was wet and glistening with Daniil's slick... enough of it to use to ease himself down. Next he leaned back, reaching two fingers through his core to wetten them, then reaching them around to start to prise himself open.

"Oh."

"What? Don't tell me you have a problem with this. If you meant to come on to a man in the first place, I figured you'd have assumed—"

Burakh was quickly shaking his head. "Dankovsky, do you really think I'm one to look a gift horse in the—well, the..."

"Don't finish that sentence either," Daniil groaned, half in exasperation and half as he curled his own fingers the way he knew he liked. He felt himself relaxing. Leaning further back so he could see what he was doing, he took Burakh's prick by the base in his other hand and slowly worked up the length until he had enough control to guide it against his hole. It took some doing to slip it first against his fingers then pull those fingers away without botching the whole operation, but when both of them hissed simultaneous noises of pleasure, Daniil felt confident enough to brace both palms against the bed behind his back.

"Stay goddamned still," he insisted, lowering himself down what felt like a millimeter at a time.

Burakh's hands had tightened entirely in the sheets, fabric twisting hard into his balled fists. "Yeah, got it, will do..." he breathed dreamily, not seeming especially like he could move if he tried.

All told, it wasn't much time at all before Daniil managed to take him in entirely, bottoming out on his prick with his back arched so he was nearly looking straight up. Somehow he wouldn't be surprised if he'd seen a scattering of stars painted across the ceiling. Especially once he started moving and Burakh's hands held fast onto either side of his waist.

Daniil lifted himself up and back then dropped down and forward, slowly at first but not for long, until he and Burakh were fucking in a rough, dirty rhythm, skin smacking against skin every time Daniil slammed down to meet their bodies together.

Burakh's hands dug in tightly again. Yet another set of deep bruises marking Daniil's skin. Daniil could hardly deny the way the strength of Burakh's hands made him shiver with arousal. He bit down on his lower lip as his toes curled in and his front hole ached to no avail, clenching desperately around nothing while Daniil drew his pleasure elsewhere.

Still— "Touch me already..."

Nodding rapidly, apologetically, Burakh lifted one hand off of Daniil's waist and immediately placed it with his thumb pad just under Daniil's prick, ready to push up and rub. "Like this?"

"Yes," Daniil gasped, and then again, "yes, yes," until it became something of a mantra, less a word than a noise, and one that continued through the onrush of Daniil's orgasm. Any coherent thought disappeared in a long moment of reckless bliss that left him quivering and panting in its aftermath.

The thought of getting up and facing the day nearly pained Daniil. He stayed seated on Burakh's prick for as long as he could get away with it, rubbing against his pelvis to steal whatever more sensation he could from Burakh being buried so deep inside. As it turned out, he could only get away with it for a minute or so while Burakh was still catching his breath, then he was quickly heaved up and off.

"I'd be worried about my dignity, being tossed around like that," Daniil teased near-breathlessly, "except I'm not sure whether you still believe I have any."

Burakh rolled his eyes. Among the mess of shining slick on him, there was also a trail of thicker white cum running down his softening prick and over the curve of his balls; it was no doubt a match for the wet warmth dripping out of Daniil's hole and gathering between his thighs. He must look absolutely ruined.

But all Burakh said, after everything, was "you're exactly the same pain-in-the ass arrogant colleague you were yesterday, don't worry," and. Well.

Daniil liked this morning quite a lot more already.