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trash mod ([personal profile] trash_mod) wrote in [community profile] biotrash2014-03-19 04:11 pm

BIOSHOCK KINK MEME

Stars, hide your fires;
Let not light see my black and deep desires

- bioshock trash crew proverb







== A RAPTURE REMINDER: ==

PROMPTS AND FILLS WITH INFORMATION ON BURAL AT SEA 2 ARE SPOILERS.

THIS POST IS A SPOILER FREE ZONE UNTIL APRIL 27th.
PLEASE ADD ALL SPOILERY PROMPTS AND FILLS TO THIS POST UNTIL THAT TIME.

Spoilery comments to this post will be deleted, and their authors vanished in the night to volunteer in our city's fine Protector Program.

Thank you for your attention. Have a nice day!




Welcome to the Bioshock kink meme.

You can find a semi-frequently-updated list of prompts, with links and an indication of whether they've been filled, here at the index.



it is a kink meme. people anonymously (or not) request fic and pictures; other people anonymously (or not) write that fic and draw those pictures. everyone masturbates, peace is achieved.



there are two ways to take part!

1) start a new comment thread with a pairing/ship, and a kink. there's a kink masterlist here if you find yourself strapped for ideas.

2) swoop into an existing comment thread, and fill the person's request with art or writing. if someone's already filled the request, go for it anyway -- the more the merrier! if you need somewhere to upload/host images, try imgur.



there are some beautiful gems on the old kink memes. if you want an example of how this whole thing works, or you're digging for gold, look no further: on Livejournal, on Dreamwidth.


NOW GO FORTH AND MULTIPLY, MY CHILDREN

Andrew Ryan/Jack; Pet Play

(Anonymous) 2014-03-23 06:00 pm (UTC)(link)
I like this ship (because I'm an awful human being), this is my biggest kink, if you can find a way to write this I might marry you.

Re: Andrew Ryan/Jack; Pet Play

(Anonymous) 2014-03-23 06:31 pm (UTC)(link)
fellow awful human being reporting in and filling

Re: Andrew Ryan/Jack; Pet Play

(Anonymous) 2014-03-24 07:06 am (UTC)(link)
“… Did that airplane crash, or was it hijacked? Forced down, forced down by something less than a man, something bred to sleepwalk through life unless activated by a simple phrase, spoken by their kindly master. Come in.”

Jack steps into the darkened office, determined to let nothing the man could say divert him from his purpose. He has a mission and he is close, so brutally close. He’s about to finish it all right now. He’s about to—

“Stop, would you kindly?”

And suddenly he can’t. Can’t raise his pistol to put a bullet through Andrew Ryan’s head, or his wrench to bash his brains out, or his right hand to burn the meat from his bones.

All he can do is stop.

“Would you kindly, powerful phrase. Familiar phrase?”

The memories hit him like a fist to the gut but he doesn’t have time to process the rage and the betrayal and the humiliation and the despair. He doesn’t even have room for confusion, only the certainty of submission, when Ryan says:

“Sit, would you kindly?”

He sits like a good boy.

“Stand, would you kindly?”

And gets up.

“Run! Stop! Turn. Was a man sent to kill, or a slave?” Ryan presses his club against the underside of Jack’s chin and lifts his head, makes him look him in the eye. And then he puts it down.

“Kneel.”

Jack’s knees hit the ground. This isn’t going the way it was supposed to. Everything’s gone wrong.

“A man chooses; a slave obeys. But you’re no man, are you.” Ryan beings to pace, to slowly circle Jack. His laughter is quick and hard and Jack can’t move. And he’s not tied down or locked up; his body isn’t bound but for those black chains. He’s not being held down. He just doesn’t want it. His whole entire self doesn’t want to move.

“Less than a man. Less than a slave, too. And what is less than a man?” Ryan gets all up close to Jack, towers over him. His eyes stare straight ahead at the growing excitement there but he’s soon spared that fresh terror when Ryan grabs him by his short hair and pulls his head back, his face up. He lowers his own to Jack’s and whispers,

“Are you going to bark for me?”

Ryan pushes Jack away in disgust, throws him bodily to the ground. Jack lies there and listens to the pounding of his heart as Andrew Ryan walks over to his desk.

“Now we have ways to distinguish the man from the slave. And you, you already bear those damning marks. But what distinguishes the slave from the beast? Now I know that I’ve seen the implements we need somewhere nearby.” He returns quietly to Jack, leans down, and pats him lightly on the cheek. “Stay. Would you kindly.”

Jack listens to the footsteps recede into the cold wet dark and he stays. There’s no way of knowing for how long, but it doesn’t really matter. He’d lost time down here long ago. There was only waiting, and listening, and thinking. Cataloguing slowly all the ways Ryan would destroy him. The thousand million hurts, all worse than anything he’s suffered down here. His chest is unbearably tight. But Ryan comes back. Jack hears the high metallic jingling first.

“Serendipitous. I had only come upon these recently.” Ryan returns into his field of vision and he’s holding some things: a bowl with a name. A long leather strap. A collar.

Jack stares and a part of him starts to tear like ripped stitches. A collar, a dog, a name, a collar for a neck. For a dog. A neck. He can’t get much deeper before Ryan’s got him back on his knees, the collar around his own throat. But there are tears in his eyes.

Ryan clips the leash to the collar and stands back to look at Jack. Jack sees his face convulse and one hand clench but it’s over in a moment.

“And now we have proof. Less than a man, no man at all, for then you wouldn’t be my—” Ryan swallows. “—my pet.” As quick as it came any disgust at his defilement was gone. What Andrew Ryan saw kneeling before him wasn’t even human.

Ryan picks up the empty bowl and the leash and loops it around his fist. Didn’t even have to tug it, not after a few sweet words. Jack goes willingly as Ryan leads him over, on his hands and knees as was proper for him, to his wide thick desk. And Ryan sits on the chair behind it and Jack settles easily between his thighs.

“Good boy,” says Ryan, the hand holding the leash coming down to pet his face, the other moving to draw himself out of his trousers. “Good dog,” he says, kindly. Asks Jack if he would suck his cock. Kindly.

Just like before, just like this whole time, just like every time with Atlas, Jack isn’t compelled by some physical force. He’s not made bodily to follow these orders, every order. He just suddenly wants to. Deeply, powerfully wants to. Wants to take that cock in his mouth, the prick of the man he was sent to kill. Made to kill, forced to kill, made to suck. Wants so badly to slip his lips and tongue around it and he knows he can. Knows he will. Knows he must.

Ryan’s quiet grunts seem so loud in his ears, almost as loud as the wet sloppy noises of a cock in his throat. He brings his hands to brace against the soft expensive fabric on Ryan’s knees while his mouth is roughly used, Ryan pulling hard on the leash every time he fucks deep into Jack. Breathing is so hard when he’s stuffed so full, and when the tight collar constricts his airways so completely. More tears are forced from the corners of his eyes to add to the filthy wetness he can’t swallow messing up his face. Ryan brutalizes his lips, something pent-up and savage being released into the thing at his feet. The collar against his throat and the cock between his lips and knowing that he’s so so good are all causing him to burn from the inside out. Just when he’s sure it’s over, he’ll pass out like this, he’ll die here, Ryan pulls out and Jack gasps, dripping and wet.

“Good dogs beg,” Ryan chokes out, and even before the magic words Jack is asking for it, sobbing for it, doing his best. But Ryan finishes stroking himself and Jack never gets it. Instead he watches as Ryan’s come lands in that metal bowl on the ground. Ryan nods to it.

“And would you kindly?”

Jack’s on all fours again and he leans down, eyes closed, and laps up Andrew Ryan’s come. Makes sure he licks up every last drop. He gets it all on his tongue and swallows it down and Ryan puts himself away and laughs.

“Not a man. Just a bitch in heat.” He glances over at the golf club he had laid down on his floor.

“But perhaps there might be a few more tricks to teach you yet.”


Re: Andrew Ryan/Jack; Pet Play

(Anonymous) 2014-03-24 12:25 pm (UTC)(link)
That was the most beautiful thing I've read I'm my life I'm gonna cry

Re: Andrew Ryan/Jack; Pet Play

(Anonymous) 2014-03-24 01:40 pm (UTC)(link)
The ending just killed me!

Re: Andrew Ryan/Jack; Pet Play

(Anonymous) 2014-03-24 03:24 pm (UTC)(link)
(OP)
Thank you ... Bless you
I'll just...be in my bunk

Re: Andrew Ryan/Jack; Pet Play

(Anonymous) 2014-03-24 03:37 pm (UTC)(link)
so I was thinking a spring wedding

Re: Andrew Ryan/Jack; Pet Play

(Anonymous) 2014-03-24 05:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Don't be silly summer is obviously the better time for a wedding

Re: Andrew Ryan/Jack; Pet Play

(Anonymous) 2014-03-24 04:53 pm (UTC)(link)
jesus damn

Re: Andrew Ryan/Jack; Pet Play

(Anonymous) 2014-03-24 07:55 pm (UTC)(link)
holy fucking jesus god wow I can't even