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

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Comments

Re: Bad Grief/Bachelor Fill

[(Anonymous)]

(tags: trans grief and trans daniil. fingering. you know how it is.)

The Nest was blessedly quiet today. Grief’s men had left for a place he preferred not to think about and he hadn’t received visitors all day. The only sounds he could hear were the creaking of the rusty warehouse and the faint ticking of clockwork.

It came as something of a shock, then, to hear the warehouse’s door be thrown open with careless force, the metal creaking and clanking as it went. In strode his unexpected visitor, snakeskin coat splattered with rusted blood and eyes drawn heavy by terrible bags.

Dankovsky looked… bad was not quite the right word. He looked haggard. Strung-out. At the end of his rope. Tired. His hair was sticking in all sorts of fun directions - he had clearly been running his hands through it all day. Grief was momentarily overcome with the want to run his own hands through it, have it be his fingers that ruffled the city-boy’s perfect feathers. It was not the first time such a thought had crossed his mind.

“Ah, doc!” Grief greeted, rising from the pile of crates he had taken as his kingpin’s throne. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here today.”

Dankovsky cleared his throat. “I wasn’t expecting to be here.”

Grief raised a brow at that. “Curious. You’ve never struck me as a man to tarry on his decisions.” He drummed his fingers against his thigh, a slight smirk creeping across his mouth. “What’s it to be then; business or pleasure?”

Dankovsky moved closer, dropping his bag by the door. “Strictly business, Grief.”

Grief laughed. “No chance I could sway that answer?” He paused at his own words, impressed by his own boldness.

Dankovsky frowned at that. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He waved a dismissive hand. “Nevermind, I don’t care. I don’t have time. I need a rifle, standard Military grade, and thirty ammo rounds.”

“Broke the first one, did you? So finicky these old things are, all rusted and busted. I wouldn’t blame you.”

Dankovsky swallowed. “I did,” he said, clearly lying. His hands clenched nervously at his side. Grief’s eyes flicked to them, distracted by the creaking of leather.

“Sate my curiosity for a moment, would you? What do you plan to do with such a weapon? I thought it was your job to heal, not harm. Something about your Oath?”

Dankovsky huffs. “Why do you care?” He snaps. He pauses, eyes widening just slightly, as though he knows he has given away his position. “It’s for… self-defence.”

“Then what’s so urgent, doc? That little pistol of yours no longer cutting it?” Grief said. His eyes raked over Dankovsky’s form, over his tense shoulders and jittery foot. “Forget the rifle. You could afford to take a moment, you know?”

“What?” Dankovsky snapped. “What are you talking about?”

Grief gestured to him. “Look at you. You’re strung as tight as a bowstring, ready to snap. I can hear your bones creaking from here.”

Dankovsky huffed. “So?”

Grief’s lips curled into a smile. He stepped towards Dankovsky, crowding him. Dankovsky stepped back, his back hitting a pile of crates. “I happen to be an expert in unwinding tangled things,” he said.

Dankovsky seemed to get the message and his cheeks turned a pretty rosey pink - like blood in water. Grief could feel Dankovsky’s breath against his skin, hot and coming out in quick puffs. Their height difference was not gargantuan by any means, but Grief felt like a giant. He felt in-control. He liked that.

“I was not aware of this talent of yours,” Dankovsky replied haughtily, though his breath momentarily caught. His body betrayed him.

“It’s a skill I allow only a few lucky individuals to see.” Grief leaned forward, whispering into Dankovsky’s ear. He shifted, slipping a leg between Dankovsky’s. He could imagine the flush deepening on his skin now. “Is luck on your side, doc?”

Dankovsky took a shuddering breath. “I hope so,” he gasped. Dankovsky was surrendering to his whims. He wanted this. Grief smiled. Good. That was what he wanted to hear.

Grief felt rather cheeky. “I didn’t quite hear that. It must be all this pollen in the air, making me go deaf.” The press of his thigh against Dankovsky’s crouch grew more insistent. “Say that again?”

Dankovsky glared at him. The effect was lessened by the lustful glaze in his eyes. “Please,” he replied, monosyllabic.

Grief pressed his lips to the shell of Dankovsky’s ear, nibbling at the sensitive flesh. He drew a gasp from the doctor, a shiver running through his body.

He bit gently at Dankovsky’s ear. He then snaked a hand down his chest, stopping at the brim of his ridiculous trousers, unbuttoning them. The waistband parts for him like a butter under a hot knife. Grief slips a hand inside. He could feel how wet he was already.

“Been thinking about this, have you?” Grief teased. “Do you dream, Dankovsky, in that great Loft of yours? Do you imagine this; me working you apart like a locksmith would a door?”

He circles a finger around the doctor’s clit, grinning as his legs parted for him.

“If I say yes will you keep going?” Dankovsky replies.

Grief laughs. He stills his hand. “Hm. Maybe I should stop, instead?”

Dankovsky grows serious. “If you stop I’ll find a new use for your hand, preferably severed and buried in a lab’s icebox somewhere.”

That took the wind out of Grief. That wasn’t the answer he was expecting. If he were to be honest it sent a rush of heat all the way down to his feet. He was nothing if not adaptable.

He slipped a finger inside of Dankovsky, revelling in the soft gasp it drew from him. Grief worried at his neck, nipping and biting as he curled his finger against the hot flesh of Dankovsky’s body. He keeps a steady pace, slipping his fingers in and out, rhythmic and practiced. He can feel Dankovsky’s rabbit heart beat beneath his lips, where his veins and arteries were closest to his skin.

Dankovsky keens suddenly, shuddering forward in pleasure. Grief caught his weight, leaning back against him. Continues his pace, drawing in and out of him, adding two fingers and then three. Dankovsky only grows louder.

“Oh, how the kitten purrs…” Grief cooes.

A weak growl is drawn from Dankovsky’s throat. The fingers that were now digging into his shoulders grew tight. “Don’t call me that.”

Grief’s heart is thundering in his chest. “Oh, and he has claws, too! Your words are weak here, doc, but there are other ways of shutting me up.”

Dankovsky moved his hands from Grief’s shoulders to Grief’s jaw, drawing him into a messy kiss, their noses clashing clumsily. Grief stilled for a moment, having not expected his taunt to work. Dankovsky worried at his lip, biting and nipping along soft flesh. Grief felt a rush of pleasure run up his spine. His gut was aflame with heat. It took all of his concentration to not still his hand.

Grief could feel Dankovsky clenching against his fingers and he could feel him moaning into his mouth. The vibrations traveled from one chest to the other, drawing groans from both of them.

Dankovsky drew back, burying his nose in Grief’s shoulder. He swore, bucking his hips against Grief’s hand. “Fuck…” he whined. “I…” he gasped.

“Use your words. Or have I taken them all from you? What a terrible thief I’ve been,” Grief hums. He quickens his pace.

Dankovsky doesn’t answer, only moans. Then suddenly he’s gasping, his breath wordless as he comes. His whole body shakes with pleasure, a yelp caught in his throat.

Grief waits until the last of Dankovsky’s shuddering stops before he withdraws his fingers. He wipes them clean on a nearby rag. He would dispose of that later.

“Better?” Grief asked. He ignores the bubbling in his own gut. He would deal with that later.

Dankovsky clears his throat. “Yes. Thank you,” he says with the haunty pride Grief is used to. It is the cadence of a man who didn’t just fuck himself silly on a sinners hand. Grief laughed at that. How quickly things return to normal.

“So,” Dankovksy says. “Rifle?”

Re: Bad Grief/Bachelor Fill

[(Anonymous)]

Ah yes, Daniil "bad at lying about rifles" Dankovsky. I like Grief surprising himself with his own boldness at making a move on Daniil. My favourite aspect of this fill would have to be the push and pull of the dynamic. One moment Grief's enjoying feeling in control, the next Daniil's making a threat, the next they're kissing and then Daniil's pride's coming back full-force. That was just handled very interestingly in the writing. Great work!

Re: Bad Grief/Bachelor Fill

[(Anonymous)]

HI I'M THE OP OF THIS PROMPT AND THIS IS LITERALLY EXACTLY WHAT I WAS HOPING FOR WHEN I POSTED THE PROMPT, THANK YOU SO FUCKIN MUCH FOR GIVING ME MY RIGHTS AND WRITINV THIS I'M IN LOVE WITH IT!!

Re: Bad Grief/Bachelor Fill

[(Anonymous)]

unf such a good piece of writing for such a good pairing. “Do you imagine this; me working you apart like a locksmith would a door?” and “Oh, how the kitten purrs…” were my favorites.