biotrash | BIOSHOCK KINK MEME

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

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Are you good for BAS references or should I keep those out?

ahhh maybe keep them out if you can, sorry. ouo;

I'M SO FUCKING INTO THIS WOW

I'm just so happy.

give me Jack as a harvesting, murdering, cannibalising sadist. the sex can be consensual or noncon, whichever makes the most sense. possible stuff includes biting, blood play, using plasmids to hurt the other person during sex, that sort of thing. that boy needs therapy.

if nobody fills this i'm deleting the meme

GIVE IT TO MEEEEE

heyoooooo idk if this counts as cheating or not but i actually started writing something along these lines a few months ago, and just recently i managed to kick myself in the butt long enough to finish it! here it is on AO3, hopefully it fits the bill of what you're looking for

i'm with ayn on this one

HOLD THE FUCK ONTO YOUR KNICKERS I DREW YOU SOME MORE CANON-ASS JACK

http://descending-bear.tumblr.com/post/81439401828/the-bioshock-kink-meme-kindly-gave-me-an-excuse-to

and one bee

Jatlas, fisting

A bunch of splicers literally drown Jack in semen

Ahh finally got it done~!

The radio crackled, and the man immediately pulled up short, listening. When no message followed, he relaxed infinitesimally, creeping forward through the dim hallways. Lights flickered and sparked further up ahead, where cracks let water drip in from the ocean and over the peeled wires. Things were blessedly quiet, but even so, he clenched his fist around the handle of the wrench, one of his most useful tools in this place. Nothing moved save the rippling water, so he continued onward, searching for the next passageway through.
Again, the radio sparked to life, and this time, a thick Irish accent forced its way through the static. “Boyo? You still alive down there?” Jack nodded mutely, despite the lack of visual for his friend and ally. “There ain't any cameras down there, I can't keep an eye on you. Would you kindly keep movin'? There are cameras up ahead.”
Immediately, Jack picked up his step, hopping over a charged-looking puddle. He was eager not to disappoint his guide and guardian in this horrifying wreck of a city, and frankly, Atlas was right. He was better off somewhere where the Irishman could see him – it would be much safer that way.
He turned with one of the long glass tubes linking two larger rooms to find himself up against a wall of ice coating a door. Beyond he could see the tell-tale blink of security cameras through the ocean windows. More static. “Ah, got a visual on you, boyo. Just melt that ice and come on through, I have something I want to ask of you.”
With a flick of his left hand, he switched plasmids from the one that hypnotized the big daddies to fire blasts, and another forward push shot what he could only assume was a flaming mucus ball at the ice wall, which exploded on impact. A wave of hot air passed back over him, but he was rewarded by the whirring noise of the door mechanics. He used the moment to catch his breath, relaxing in the passageway for the brief peaceful moment. He hadn't heard anything from Atlas, so he didn't worry too much about the other side of the door. Idly, he flicked his wrist to utilize electric shocks, just in case the security camera was hostile.
With a swoosh, the door slid open. An alarmed beep started from his left, and he quickly shot a bolt of static at it. With a quick glance around the room, he confirmed that there were, indeed, no other threats, before scrambling over to the camera to quickly hack it. A couple of twisted pipes and wires, and it blinked to life again, looking down on him with a benevolent green eye.
“Ahh, that's much better,” the wonderful voice drawled from the radio. “Now I've got an eye on you. So, the favor I'd like you to do...”
The radio crackled out for a moment. Panicking, Jack pulled it from his belt, slapping the base against the palm of his hand to jostle it back into use. Within a few heart rending seconds, the voice came back, darker, smoother than anything he had heard from Atlas before - “go fuck a big daddy, would you kindly?”
Jack froze, almost missing the helpful follow-up, “there's one just around the corner. No little sister in sight.” Go – Go fuck a big daddy? Was he out of his mind??? What on earth could have possessed him to ask something like that? He stared at the silent radio, hoping it would answer his silent questions, but alas, it silently continued to silent silently. In the next room, he could hear the distinctive grumbling groan of a big daddy trudging around, and...
go fuck a big daddy, would you kindly...
Huh.
Okay, thinking it over again, he guessed he could see where Atlas was coming from. I mean, he was a man, and a man had... certain needs... that needed to be fulfilled. And he hadn't had any sort of relaxation since he got down here...
would you kindly...
So yeah, he could understand why Atlas had told him to do that. This area looked pretty safe, there was a big daddy right there, and he certainly wasn't about to find anyone more suitable (little sisters were very obviously a no-no, and female splicers? Jack had a personal rule about his dick and crazy – mostly that he kept the former out of the latter). So decision made, without even fully understanding how he came around to this point, he flicked his wrist to change to the hypnotize plasmid, and crept forward.
The big daddy in question was wandering in aimless circles around a small plaza area, its eye-light a warning yellow. No little sister in sight, just like Atlas had said. He stepped out from behind the wall for a clear shot at the big daddy, feet scuffing some rubble as he did. The hulking creature turned sharply, allowing Jack to see both of its arms. With a near inaudible sigh of relief, he noted it was a Rosie, not the standard drill-hands. He didn't want one of those near... any of him, frankly.
The big daddy spotted him, eye turning red as it bellowed, raising the riveting gun and pointing it at him. Quickly, he chucked the hypnosis plasmid at the creature, wincing slightly at the gross splat it made as it collided with the front of its diving helmet. It sizzled and dissolved, presumably working its way into the big daddy's bloodstream or some other science-Rapture bullshit, Jack didn't care.
It staggered one or two steps forward, its charge interrupted by the interference, before coming to a halt. The light changed to a friendly green, dumber and different from the security cameras with their intelligent gaze. Then again, that could just be because he knew who sat behind those cameras.
“Good work boyo.” Speak of the devil. “Would you kindly bring him back to the other room? The camera feed is much better there.”
Jack didn't even hesitate this time, leading the big daddy back through the way he came, stopping just short of the door. It lumbered after him, making noises that sounded surprisingly content for an enormous monster of a creature.
He got himself back to the previous room, the Big Daddy close behind him, and turned to face it. It stared at him with its green glow, curious and attentive. He stalled for a moment, starting to wonder again why this was a good idea.
The radio sparked to life. “What, y'need a hand boyo? Something to get you started?”
Jack flushed, embarrassed, and a chuckle wafted from the radio. “Here, lemmie help you out. Why don't you start by taking off your clothes?”
Jack fingered the hem of his sweater, nervous, then began to unbutton his pants. He hesitated before pulling them off. Atlas sighed.
“Boyo, would you kindly take off your clothes?” he repeated, exasperated. “You can't afford to dally here.”
He had a point, Jack admitted to himself as he shucked his pants, sweater, and shirt. He shivered slightly in the cool damp air. A low growl made him start, adrenaline shooting under his skin. But it was only the Big Daddy, looking confused as it's new, unclad ward.
“Now, I dunno whether they've got... y'know... the 'equipment' anymore, but it wouldn't hurt to check.”
Yeah... Jack didn't think so. He was here for his own pleasure, and he didn't need or want to see anything below the Big Daddy's belt. He reached out and grabbed the Big Daddy's hand, guiding it to his mostly soft cock. As the massive hand began to close around him, he felt another spike of adrenaline that shot straight south, suddenly realizing with horror the fact that he was literally putting his family jewels into this thing's crushing hands. Instead, the diver's glove closed with a surprising gentleness. With baited breath, Jack slowly directed the hand, sliding it back up, then down his shaft.
The movement was small and slow, but it was gratifying, applying pressure around him that made him grown with the relief of being touched. The Big Daddy paused at the noise, hand stilling, but Jack pushed at the massive glove and it resumed its gentle stroking. His eyes fell closed, and he breathed heavily, allowing the feeling cresting in his nether regions to grow unhindered. He didn't notice the equally heavy breathing coming from the radio until it broke into a voice.
“Would you kindly fuck yourself on its fingers?”
Jack froze.
“W-what?” he asked, hazy with the touch of the Big Daddy on him. Atlas chuckled, his voice suddenly dark and heavy over the radio.
“You heard me, boyo,” he said, his voice holding a malice that Jack had never heard from the Irishman before. “Fuck yourself on its fingers, would you kindly.”
Jack thought to resist, to kick the radio away, to say 'fuck you' to this suddenly malicious guardian of his, because there was no way -
but to his horror he found himself reaching out for the Big Daddy's free hand, pulling it towards him. He choked out a sob as he gently folded the fist so that the Big Daddy was pointing. The creature in question had stopped moving its other hand, watching him. He knew this was a bad idea, he didn't need it, so why was he still moving...?
“Good boy. Now just go right ahead and let it finger fuck you,” Atlas purred, eagerness obvious. For a moment, Jack wondered if the Irishman was getting off on this, but... no, he was helping him, right? He wouldn't try to hurt him...
His thoughts came back to reality at the sudden pressure against his hole, and he whimpered. Instinctively, perhaps, the Big Daddy pulled its hand away slightly, looking for lack of a better term, confused. Atlas growled.
“Would you kindly let the damn thing fuck you already?!” he snapped, and as Jack reflexively pulled the hand back, impaling himself, suddenly things clicked into perspective.

Would you kindly – would you kindly – would you kindly....

He whimpered and gasped in pain as he goaded the Big Daddy on, thrusting his hips down on its enormous finger, doing as he had been ordered, and now suddenly he knew that was what it was, and everything that Atlas had said... how could he trust any of it, anymore?! He thought that he had been doing it of his own accord, reasoning around the instructions and guidance he had been given, but now, suddenly, he realized, and the combination of that awful truth and the thick rough finger shoving itself into him caused tears to spring, unbidden, to his eyes. A groan over the radio made him feel sick.
“That's it, boyo,” it gritted out, sounding pleased. “Just. Like. That.”
He bit his cheek in an attempt not to scream. He could feel his insides, rubbed raw by the canvas-like texture of the glove, bleeding. He almost wished he would black out, but he knew being helpless in this place was the last thing he wanted, so he held onto consciousness despite it all, seeing stars through the pain.
Finally, a long groan trickled through the radio, one that caused his cock to jump a little, despite himself. “Ahhh, yeah. Good work, boyo. Go ahead and stop, for now.”
Freed from the command, Jack pushed the Big Daddy off of him, whimpering in pain at the absence and stinging of his backside. He lay on the ground, eyes closed, catching his breath, and over the radio he could hear Atlas doing the same. Eventually, he heard the Big Daddy lumber off, presumably freed from the influence of his plasmid.
He wanted the silence then to swallow him up, his shame, his despair at finding this guardian of his was nothing more than a wolf in sheep's clothing. He focused on the sound of static, imagined it filling his body and wiping him away to nothing.
But it didn't last. “You did great, boyo,” said the deceptively friendly voice over the radio. “Go grab yourself a medkit, and put yer clothes back on.”
Jack didn't move. He'd refuse. If Atlas had that kind of control over him, he'd refuse. He'd make Atlas make him do what he wanted. He'd refuse to do it of his own free will. Now he knew, now he was no fool, now he -
“Oh, and, would you kindly forget about this, ah, little encounter?”
No. No no no no no No NO-!

Jack sat up, wincing. He felt sore, especially down below, and cold, and his clothes -
His clothes had been scattered. Blushing with embarrassment, he carefully got up, putting them on as quickly as possible. The radio sprung to life.
“Oh thank goodness boyo. Thought you were a goner for a moment. Some splicers came through and cracked you good. Ransacked your stuff, but one of the alarms went off, scared 'em away.” Jack finished putting on his clothes and applied a medpack to himself, feeling better almost instantly with Rapture's brand of home medicine. “Now, why don't we get back on our way?”
Jack smiled. He was so lucky to have someone like Atlas looking out for him.

------

Bonus cut line:

“I'm gonna be Frank with ya, boyo,” Atlas spoke lowly through the radio. “Bein' stuck down here for this long... does things, to a man. An' to be without me lovely wife, Moira, well...” he chuckled darkly. “You get the idea. So really, I'm in need of some good entertainment. Would you kindly provide?”

Mark Meltzer and Harry Mason are just two dads searching for their daughters in a town full of monsters. And also they're both huge dork dads. And also dork boyfriends. Just roll with it.

ugh I probably shouldn't but I'm gonna. 4 u anon

about time someone asked for this

Hi, first detail anon here, I said I'd post this monday and.... it's not monday. I figure i should stop stalling and just go for it and idk i'll edit it more if I want to post it somewhere else.
also im sorry if this is pretty fucked up and not quite what you were looking for ._.;

---

"That's it boyo, walk it off, that's the way," Atlas said, a staticy comfort through the pain.

"Get yourself to one of those medical wall-units and patch yerself up, and you'll be just fine."

Jack grunted, and nodded, though Atlas probably couldn't see it. It was what he had the energy for, after all that. Taking down a Bouncer - for nothing, at that. It was just one set off by a goddamn bomb-throwing splicer.

He slowed in his steps, thinking. Nitro. Nitro splicers, that's what Atlas called them, right? Whatever, they were a pain in the ass, even with telekinesis.

Around the next corner, he spotted the red and white neon light of one of those wall-units. Wasn't a hard search, considering where he was. Medical Pavilion sort of implied there'd be a lot of health-related things lying around, didn't it?

Jack gave a brief thought to hacking it, for practice and for a few dollars off, but he decided against it. He was tired, he was sore, and the thought of fiddling around with wires and pipes again made his head hurt even more. So fuck it, he'd spend the extra six bucks. And he'd hacked every other machine here, what's one he overlooked?

He rolled up his sleeve and put his arm on the armrest, positioned it carefully under the needle, inserted his money and pulled the lever. He winced in preparation for the needle, and hissed in surprise when it went in a little harder than he felt was necessary. Seconds passed, though, and he realized he didn't feel any serum entering his veins - and then he noticed the sign above him blink green, and he had just enough time to think 'Hey, that's what it looks like when someone uses the units I hack,' before a misty cloud of air shot into his face.

He coughed on it, as much at the sudden pressure of air in his lungs as what it was laced with - there was something that burned at the back of his nose and throat, and it was muted, but there was a thought that he should get away. He tried to pull back, but the spike in his arm held him in place. Maybe not forever, but he never got the chance to test that out. In a second, his legs didn't feel quite right, and the white cross above him was fuzzy around its edges, and his head hurt and felt empty and stuffed at the same time...

Somewhere in the distance, Atlas was calling to him, but Jack couldn't get his hand to find the radio in the dark. He went under, like he was in the ocean again.

Like he was in the ocean again, consciousness lapped at him, as the waves did against the lighthouse stairs. A splash here, and he was still crumpled in front of the unit, looking at the hack job someone beat him to on the thing. A splash there, and the hall looked different. Was it upside down? Sideways? It wouldn't hold still long enough for him to figure it out. He felt sick, and he closed his eyes.

One more, and he wasn't moving anymore. His back was against something flat, but he didn't entirely feel like he was lying down. He didn't entirely feel like he was anything, though. Not even the hands on his arm, wherever it was.

Jack resurfaced again and opened his eyes. Everything still felt - faint, detached. Swimming, even though he was lying still. Huh.

He turned his head to the side, and saw a tray level with his head, and lined with metal tools and syringes. It stirred something, deep in the cotton at the back of his mind, and when he got himself to concentrate enough on it he realized that was familiarity. He frowned a little, unsure why it would feel... Oh, right. Medical pavilion. He's seen the same thing in every other room. He moved his eyes from the tray to the dark shape behind it. Teal, brown, rust, the seafoam and beige (and blood) of the rest of the pavilion walls cast in shadow. He closed his eyes, braced himself, and rolled his head the other way. Pale yellow screens with a red... squiggly symbol. Those screens they walled off beds with - partitions, yeah. Another tray of stuff, some smaller tools, things that looked a little like scissors, and a stack of metal dishes in funny shapes. Definitely Medical Pavilion. Oh, he was good at this.

He felt cold, though. Really cold. Was he in a freezer or something? No, wait, rust, teal, brown, tools, Medical Pavilion. Then... Maybe a pipe burst and froze or something, like that guy said?

He tried to heat up his hand, but he didn't seem to get any warmer. His hand and wrist started to ache, actually, so he stopped, even if he wasn't entirely sure there was something to stop. He relaxed, then, but in that moment felt a cold tickling sort of feeling across his chest, and it took him a second to realize it was a breeze. That didn't make sense, though, didn't he have a sweater on?

He felt the breeze again, and heard the clicking and squeaking of metal moving, and something tapping, and - hold on. There was someone here with him, wasn't there?

Jack tried to raise his head, but it was heavy. He didn't get far, mostly he just tilted his head down, but he did enough to see first - that he didn't have his sweater. And second, and probably more important, there was a blurry grey-and-blue-and-rust shape moving by his - feet, he'd guess. He couldn't see so clearly.

But with this angle, he could see a few other things - a pair of those metal stands with the bags on them. And there was a bright light somewhere above - which made it a little harder to see clearly, but it wasn't pointed directly at his face, at least. It still stung. He shut his eyes and let his head rest back.

Metal clattered closer to his head. That had to be the tray on his left, with the dishes. He could feel movement again, closer, and hear someone else's breathing. It was heavy - and too close.

He forced his eyes open, and could see the facemask of his new friend as a square blur of colour across a blotched and red face. Jack's own breath picked up a little, and he tried to do something about it. Forgetting if he tried it already, he tried to make his hand spark. Fire, lightning, he didn't care what the fistful was, just if it gave him some space- he flexed his fingers, tried to get some friction against them, but that ache came back in his wrist and arm, with an itchiness across his skin, like it was too dry and tight for his bones. He shut his eyes, and tried harder, and little grunt slipped out of his throat with the effort.

His new friend noticed.

"Ah, I wouldn't do that. Irritates the EVE blocker," said a voice, crackled with age or disuse or hoarseness.

As he spoke, the man took Jack's plasmid hand between his rubber-gloved ones, and it was enough to snap him back, like an elastic band he'd stretched too far between his fingers. It left him blinking dazedly as the words rolled in his head.

"So sorry, but it's a precaution I need to take in this line of work."

Jack stared unfocused at the ceiling, thinking. Eve? Wait, no, EVE. What did Atlas say- it was the juice that powered his plasmids, right? Yeah. No EVE, no plasmids. He smiled a little foggily, proud that he'd remembered that. He did catch on quickly, didn't he?

"But it's not all bad," the man added, patting Jack's hand, "It might take the edge off, a little. Scrambles the clarity of the mind, as it does. Not as good as anaesthesia, but that's strictly for clients. Expensive stuff, it is..."

Anaesthesia was a bigger word, though, and one Jack wasn't sure he heard before. That'd take a little longer to puzzle out. There was more clattering, and his hand was cold again. The man must have moved on to something else.

Jack blinked lazily, having lost his train of thought. He kept staring at the ceiling tiles, blinking again when they got too fuzzy. Something with a scent that stung his nose entered the air, and he could hear the man coming closer again. He stopped, but Jack shivered from the cold air anyway.

"Ah, look at you..." The man sighed, "Beautiful."

He - he chucked, Jack was pretty sure, and then something cold and damp dabbed against his chest, right at his - around where his ribs met each other, whatever that was called. He tried to look down again, and watched with a furrowed brow as the man rubbed the white damp ball of stuff down his chest, over his stomach, and to his hips, and back.

"Funny, some others I could name wouldn't think so," he muttered, swiping the cloth ball down again, "They wouldn't get it. It's what-" he stopped, and snickered, "It's what's on the inside that counts, isn't it?"

Jack's mind started catching up to the man's words in the silence that followed, but getting meaning out of them was something else. He couldn't keep track of how much time he spent on that before he realized the man's hand hadn't started moving again - his fingers were splayed out over the softer part of Jack's belly, and while Jack couldn't make out the man's eyes, he could somehow feel them, he thought. The man curled his fingers, a little, slightly but gently, as if he wanted to scoop out and cradle a handful of Jack's flesh, and Jack... There was a small, but heavy feeling in his gut that felt like he might be in trouble.

The man took a deep breath, through his nose, and let it out slow, and his hand relaxed.

"Purest thing I've seen in years," he sighed, and finally dragged his hand and the cloth away. Jack shuddered, the cold stung worse against his body now.

He swallowed and tried to think. He had to, because... there was a feeling in his gut.

"So fresh, almost a shame," the man muttered.

Tools clattered. Jack stared at the ceiling, thinking. Plasmids, couldn't use plasmids. Why? No EVE, that's right. Could he move?

It was hard enough to move his head, but maybe his arm weighed less. He tried to roll his arm, his left one, and he wasn't sure if it worked - but his hand stung. Not like when he was trying to set it on fire - he opened his eyes again and found that stand - IV stand, that was it, and there was a bag with a tube that ran down to - his angle wasn't good, but it was a safe bet it was his hand. EVE blocker.

There was a sharp pain under his ribs. He winced, set his head back, and shut his eyes. He had to think. He had to move. A cold feeling trickled down his front.

He opened his eyes again to the same ceiling tiles, only now, a little more awake, he noticed it wasn't the only thing up there. Of course, he'd have to tilt his head again to make out what that other thing was. He built up the breath and strength for it (and he was breathing a little harder for some reason), and craned his head a little.

There was a body, on another table, surrounded by other medical tools. Someone was leaning over it with something bright and silver in their hands, dragging a red line down the center of the poor bastard's body. But then, as Jack worked at moving his arm again, he realized something. He wasn't looking across horizontally or anything, so there couldn't actually be someone on the ceiling.

He was able to turn his arm under its restraints, and he could see in the mirror that poor bastard had chain links tattooed across his wrist.

Well, I'm not OP, but I seriously enjoyed this! You've got the horror down beautifully, it's a pleasure to read.

Fontaine wyks Jack into loving every second of it very much against his will

this is the greatest day of my life

fuck FINE I'll do this one but it might be a while if someone else wants to tackle it too go for it

(Oh, i forgot to mention, this is part 1 ouo;)

Sander creepily molests Kyle when he plays the piano it's so creepy

Not OP, but that was hilarious~! Loved it!

He’s had just about enough of this horseshit.

That every two-bit con in the joint thinks they can just take and use what’s his. That the old lady thinks she can collar him to make a difference. That that filthy psycho thinks he can play with his boy however the hell he wants. They all think that they can fuck with him.

But nobody fucks with the kid but him.

---

Jack lifts the cigarette to his lips to take a long slow drag. His fingers tremble slightly, but they still when he hears the raw grinding crackle of the radio. Fine timing too; he’d just about run through his packet of smokes and was ready for some new instructions.

“Ahh, there he is.” Atlas’s words follow a slow exhale but there’s a different tenor to them. Still the same music, but read from a different score.

“Not lookin’ too pretty, are we?” Atlas asks, and Jack takes stock of his body. Broad right shoulder torn up where a Bouncer’s drill got a little too close while he was trying to rescue a Sister. Left thigh ripped into where one of Cohen’s white silent monsters put a hook in him. Atlas was right, he was banged up real good. Jack ground out his cig under his heel and waited for the punchline.

“Would look a lot better without all their little marks on you now, wouldn’t you?” he asked, voice rank with displeasure. Atlas had never taken a real interest in Jack’s physique before, but he supposes it was worth worrying about. Not like he could get out of here if he was torn to pieces before reaching his next objective.

“But there’s nothing we can do about them all now, is there?” From anybody else Jack might be suspicious as to what was happening here, but there was just something in the softness and the sweetness of Atlas’s voice that kept him listening. Even though it came through a little different this time, deep under the sea Jack was a fish that had swallowed the hook. It pierced his guts and dragged him to the surface.

“Thought we’d try something a little different today, boyo,” Atlas breathed, low and dark over the old radio. Jack awaited his orders, ready for anything that would get him out of this quicker. “Would you kindly light up that last cigarette?”

Jack did want that final smoke. He slid it in his mouth gratefully, knowing it would calm him down while he learned how to get close enough to Ryan. He’d incinerate the tip and Atlas would let him know exactly what he had to do. He sucks the smoke down deep and lets it curl around his face in the dark when he hears the rough bark of the radio again.

“Ah, no, I think I’ve actually changed me mind.” This is strange, it’s all very, very strange. But it’s Atlas.

“I’d like you to take that cigarette,” says Atlas. “I’d like you to take that cigarette and put it out.”

Jack brings his fingers to his lips.

“I’d like you to put it out on yourself,” says Atlas. “Would you kindly.”

Jack freezes. Why would he do that. Why would he want to do that.

He wants to do it because Atlas wants him to do it.

He doesn’t ask why Atlas wants him to do it.

He just takes his cigarette and presses it against the inside of his wrist. Just inside his forearm, just above where he’s already marked up good.
It burns him so nice. Not as good as those times he calls up Incinerate, when the plasmid scorches the flesh from his bones and he blisters and pops. But his whole body is shot through with feeling just the same, every inch of him filled with that excitement and ache that faintly mirrors the one he gets when he shoots up with Eve. He breathes hard through his nose and grunts deep through clenched teeth and Atlas comes back on the radio. Tells him he can stop now.

He drops the cigarette to the ground and looks down at his arm, both hands shaking now. He’s red and raw and it’s starting to raise and fill with fluid and it stings. Not like his other wounds but it stings special. It’s going to scar, probably. The mark will sit indelible next to his chains.

He hears heavy breathing from the radio. It’s stopped short, though, with an impatient little laugh.

“Think we can do better than that, can’t we, boyo?” Jack’s still shaking with the aftershocks of his self-inflicted hurt.

What is happening to him.

“Now would you kindly find a knife or something?” Atlas sings. Jack can see the next few minutes slide out in front of him like an old reel of film. He knows what’s going to happen and he’s not sure he wants it. Not sure he wants it but he’s sure it feels good.

He’s fast to find a switchblade in a fallen splicer.

He pulls it out and stands up and he’s bathed in the golden glow of Rapture as they both breathe together. There’s a beat before Atlas kindly tells him what to do.

Jack drags the blade deep into his forearm, higher this time, painting a thick red line that slowly wells with blood. He tries to keep it in but this time he can’t hold back a moan of pain at the bite of the knife. He draws it straight and perfect for Atlas, going nice and careful to make sure he does it right. His breath trembles in his chest and again, and just like before the sting lights him up inside like he’s been dead all along and this is his revival. He adds perpendicular lines and the pain is too good he might faint. It’s nothing like the other hurts he’s gained here, so much ticker and hotter. And Atlas laughs and laughs in the background and Jack sort of still wants to know why until he doesn’t want to know anything anymore because he heard that dark voice say:

“Now why don’t you take a little rest, here. And would you kindly,” Atlas finally asks, “forget everything that has just happened.”

---

When Jack comes to he’s too set upon by death and monsters to even think to pull up his sleeve and look at what’s stinging; to wonder how that pounding, throbbing “F” had gotten there.

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Page 12 of 34

BIOSHOCK KINK MEME

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no subject

Re: Jack/Fontaine-as-Atlas - possession/marking & self-mutilation

Re: BEENIS - THE LEGEND REVEALED

Jack/Anyone, sadism

Re: atlas/jack, orgasm denial, edging, mind control

Re: Jack/Anyone, sadism

fill? maybe...?!

Re: atlas/jack, orgasm denial, edging, mind control

Re: [art request] canon jack

jack/atlas, fisting

Jack/splicers, bukkake

Re: jack/big daddy (atlas), mind control, BIG daddies

Bioshock/Silent Hill crossover

Re: Jack/Fontaine-as-Atlas - possession/marking & self-mutilation

Re: jack/atlas, fisting

Not Just Skin Deep

Re: Not Just Skin Deep

Fontaine/Jack, non-con

Re: [art request] canon jack

Re: Jack/Atlas - mindfuckery/mental manipulation

Author anon

Sander/Kyle, abuse of power dynamics

Re: Getting Some Radiohead

It Hurts