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

quietly starts to write this........

armed with a handful of patience, a smidgen of recklessness, and an armful of ADAM plants, good/savior delta attempts to calm alex down.

Any preferences for circumstances or food or what-have-you, because I could think of a few ways this could go down...

Yooooou're welcome.

... any particular kind of shit you want to see go down or can I get crazy? Level of gore you're okay with (i mean i'm assuming since uh that's basically the med pavilion's wallpaper)? and, uh. other preferences?

Tenenbaum likes it when Fontaine shaves his head~

nah I couldn't even conceive of circumstances that's why I was like, ah yes. someone else will write this. creativity

Fontaine decides he wants to change things up a little.

stick your dick in the radio

seconded

The tape ended and the ensuing static drilled into Mark’s ears as it rewound. He gaped, as he had to, at the many screens in front of him, the only light in the room. The flickering of the white noise was enough to drive a man mad.

And then, darkness. The cycle was broken, the televisions turned off. In the blackness, he heard a door open, saw a shadow thrown against the wall as someone walked into the room. They wheeled him through the doorway, down a blinding hallway, finally stopping inside yet another dark room.

The door shut and the footsteps clicked away from it, as Mark blinked into the blackness, trying to figure out where he was. A light flickered above him and he saw with a start that he was not alone.

The woman from the tapes was sitting in front of him with her arms crossed, reclining slightly in the chair. Her face was beautiful, like a film star, but her glasses and stern expression told of a great intellect. She watched him hungrily, as though she was a cat and he was the mouse that she was about to devour. She leaned forward, clasping her hands in her lap and watching him, a smile creeping across her face.

Mark gulped, trying to look around him. He had been immobilized for so long, he wasn’t sure he would be able to move even if he wasn’t strapped down. From the few glances he could steal around the room, he could see they were in some kind of operating room. A sterile, tiled, chamber with no light but the swinging lamp above him. He looked back at the woman in front of him. Her knee was nearly brushing against his shin.

Looking back at her, he saw a kind of mania twinkling on her lips. Suddenly, he remembered all of the times that her voice had been the cause of his screams. The times when his chair had glittered and sparked with electricity, while her calm monotone looped in his ears.

“Who are you?” he whispered in apprehension, even though he knew already. She smirked at him, taking her time with an answer. Walking slowly around his chair, she leaned it back, so he was staring up into the bright lamp above. She leaned over him, smiling, her perfume intoxicating, haloed by the light from above. As soft as a sigh, scent wrapping around him like a security blanket, she said, “I am Doctor Sofia Lamb.”

Sofia Lamb. A chill went up his spine as his memory clicked. Cindy. This was the woman who had taken Cindy. Her eyes observing his expression, Doctor Lamb tutted and patted his head condescendingly, saying, “There, there, there. Don’t be afraid, dear.” And, as easy as that, he wasn’t.

She walked languidly around him, unbuckling his harnesses until his was free. He sat up, rubbing his wrists, flexing his muscles to make sure that everything still worked. As she knelt to unbuckle his feet, he flexed his legs eagerly ready to stand up. A hand, snow white, appeared on his knee, and she looked up at him from behind her dark frames.

“Stay seated, would you, dear?” She finished her work, tracing a hand along his thigh as she rose and returned to his side. Reclining his chair even further, so that he was practically lying down, her cold hands examined his body, caressing the many scars and burns he had acquired over the past few days. Weeks? Mark suddenly found he couldn’t remember how long he had been down here and that concept terrified him. He started with a jump, suddenly repulsed by the hands that were winding under his shirt and over his heaving chest.

She pressed with those hands as she leaned over him and blew gently on his face, the cold air refreshing him, bringing him back to himself. He was safe. He was fine. Her hands grazed a nipple as she furthered her explorations, pulling his shirt open, ignoring the buttons which popped and bounced across the floor. Her eyes were so close to his burning skin that he almost thought she would plant a kiss on his ribs or abdomen, but her lips passed over him and her hands crept instead for his pants.

“Wait, stop,” he rasped, suddenly realising what was going on. He had forgotten about Cindy. How could he forget about Cindy? He struggled against her, his body stiff from disuse. She straightened, looking displeased, as he tried to sit up.

“Mr Meltzer, please lie down.”

“No! I’m going to save my daughter!”

“Stop, please. You’re going to hurt yourself, dear,” She said, and he froze. “You’re much too late to save Cindy. Now be a dear and lie down.”

Tears welling in his eyes, Mark lay back down against the cool metal of the chair. Sofia’s eyes wandered back to the man’s trousers and, grimacing at filthy and stained they were, she pulled out a pair of rubber gloves and tugged them around her small hands. Mark tried to stand up, tried to struggle, but his tired body ignored his every protest, gluing him into his seat. She finished removing his pants and then stood back, like an artist admiring her work.

She picked up a cannister and a hose, aiming it at him and releasing a stream of liquid all across his filthy body. Ethyl alcohol dripped from his starved form as the grime, blood, and urine washed away down a drain in the floor. The myriad of scratches and cuts that tattooed him screamed in unison and his eyes, shut too late, burned until he thought he would go mad.

She must have thought he was clean enough, because she turned off the hose, returning those cold hands to his face, which was contorting with the agony in his eyes. “Oh please,” she said, impatiently. “It doesn’t hurt, dear.”

And though it was difficult to open his eyes, though his vision was blurred, she was right. The pain he had felt was all in his head. Through the blur in his vision, he could see a morbid smile slink over her face. She took the cannister of rubbing alcohol and poured it directly over his eyes saying, “This feels nice, dear, don’t you think?”

His vision blurred again and he was unable to suppress a moan as pleasure shot down his spine. He knew this shouldn’t feel good, he knew this was wrong, but the sweet smell of her mixed with the clinical smell of the liquid and he felt himself growing hard. He heard the bottle bubble as it emptied above him. He closed his eyes, savoring the last few drops that tingled beneath his lids, before he opened them to the hazy world.

She had moved down, dragging one hand along his body as she neared his hips, dragging a fingernail along his abdomen, her blonde hair glinting gold in the white lamplight.

“This is nice, isn’t it, dear?” she cooed, as she dug deeply into him with the nail. A trail of blood followed the line she left, making him salivate in his eagerness. Her nail reached his thigh and she let it run around his now erect member, so close that the air next to him tickled and stung, but her skin still not making contact. His blood beat in his thighs, his lungs wouldn’t hold enough air, and he felt dizzy with anticipation.

“Please,” the sound escaped his lips in a tiny puff before he could stop it. She removed her hands instantly and folded her arms, smiling.

“Please what?” She asked him with a chuckle.

Mark glued his lips together, trying to remember why he was here, what he wanted. His face flushed with shame at his already dripping erection. He tried to remember why he didn’t want this. All he could think about, however, was how drunk he was in her smell and how much he wanted her against him, around him. He closed his eyes, trying to wish his arousal away. She grasped him fully with both hands, shocking a gasp out of him as his eyes flew wide, kneading at him that made his body spasm and bulge in a way he hadn’t known since… since before Cindy was born..

“Tell me you want this, dear. Tell me you like it.”

He wanted to resist, he tried not to admit how much he needed her, but his body would not obey. Cracked and bloody lips parted and the words practically said themselves. “I want it! Hng, I need it! Please don’t stop!”

She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and began pumping in earnest now, stroking the length of him until he thought he was going to burst. Every stroke, every pull from head to base sent a thrill of agony through him, taunting him with its pleasure. Just when he thought that she could do him no greater deed, he felt her warm mouth closing around him and let out a deep moan. He shuddered as she worked the hot wetness of her tongue up and down, swirling and massaging around him, pressing tightly into him as his eyes rolled back in his head. He pulsed and throbbed beneath her, sweat gathering at the base of his spine, as he neared his peak.

Suddenly, she pulled back from him, the ache in his groin ringing in his ears and he pleaded and begged her to return. Leaning forward and looking him right in the face, she placed one hand on his dripping cock, gripping it tightly and saying, “You’re a terrible father, Mark Meltzer.”

Tears of desperation pricked his eyes. “N-no I’m not,” he said, trying in part to convince himself.

“Of course you are, dear.”

He was. He knew it, he was. That’s why his wife left him, that’s why his daughter was taken… Her grip on him tightened and he moaned again, squirming into her hand, praying that she would finish the job.

“I want you to say it, dear.”

“I- no!”

“You’ve already admitted it to yourself, now I want you to admit it to me.”

Her hand massaged him again and he knew that he would do anything for this woman. Kill for her, die for her, anything.

“I’m a bad father,” he said, the words almost a relief to him. He repeated them as she returned her mouth to his firmness, sucking in air as he moaned it again and again. “I'm a bad father, I’m a bad ah-ah!”

With a start, he came. She pulled back just in time and he arched his back, milky white come spraying across his clean body. As he twitched and spurted beneath her, Sofia said quietly, “This hurts, dear” and walked away, closing the door to the sound of his moans turning to screams.

would you kindly??

ALLRIGHT LET'S DO THIS.

Your work shift had ended and, like so many other days, you sat on the metro in silence and rode it back to Apollo Square. Coming home used to feel like a welcome respite, but now the evening commute is the worst part of your day. Photos of missing people line the walls of the station, dotted with small offerings of flowers and candles. Some of them were people you knew. You walk past the sad memorial-- and then there's the square itself. Of all the things that have changed since the rebellion began, none is worse than the way Ryan has turned this place into an open-air prison, rounding traitors up and shoving them inside to rot. The richer citizens of Rapture can afford to ignore the place, but you live in a one-bedroom apartment in Artemis Suites. You're forced to walk past it twice a day, every day.

You're alone in one of Rapture's many streets when you hear running, heavy and booted, behind you. The short hairs on the back of your neck prickle and you turn, terrified you are about to be mugged. Three men barrel toward you. There isn't enough time to react as one claps a firm hand over your mouth, another grabs you by the waist and a third raises something above your head. There is a glint of metal, he swings--

--when you wake up, you're being bustled down a set of stairs and into a small room. Warm lamplight glows dimly from a desk. You're being held by many hands-- being carried? You open your mouth to protest but the cries fall short as a voice says

"Jaysus, did you have to hit the kid so hard?"

Your vision comes into focus. There is a man in front of you. Dark hair with a gentle curl, a plain work shirt rolled up to the elbows, suspenders-- he could be any old Fontaine Fisheries dock worker, but the accent with which he speaks assures you he is not.

"That'll do boys. I think I can handle things from here."

There's some gruff laughter as you are roughly let go, falling to your knees on the floorboards in front of Atlas. Three pairs of boots thunder up the stairs. A door shuts behind them. The pair of you are left in silence.

The revolutionary leader puts his hands on his hips and regards you.

"They aren't the most subtle of lads," he says, almost like an apology. "Can't say they picked wrong, though. You're a pretty little thing, aren't ya?"

"Pretty?" you ask. Your head is still throbbing. You aren't anyone of importance and you don't have any ADAM. What in hell could the leader of the rebels want you for?

As if in answer, he moves over to his desk. He picks something up, then looks over at you, grinning. He takes a step back over, and you can see something small gleaming in his hand. A syringe with a long needle.

"Know what this is, sweetheart?" he asks. You scramble to your feet and begin to back away. He's already blocked the staircase off with his steady, predatory approach. You retreat further into the room, hoping for a door or a weapon you can defend yourself with. You don't know what the needle is for, but you can't imagine it's anything you're going to like.

Atlas advances quickly and before you can do anything about it, he's got you backed into a corner. He pins you to the wall with one hand firmly on your shoulder and a knee pushed up, between your legs. You swing at him. He releases the grip on your shoulder only to grab you by the wrist. He holds it out, away from your body, and pushes his side into you to keep you pinned.

"Sshh, sshh now," he reassures, rubbing a thumb over the pulsing blue of your vein. The other hand lifts, holds the needle down to your skin, and with a soft push it punctures your flesh.

You begin to scream, your eyes shut tight with pain and your body wracked with shaking as the chemicals enter your system. Somewhere you can here a voice saying "steady now, kid, steady!" before the world goes dark.

You open your eyes to see him, Atlas, sitting across the room from you in a chair. He smokes a cigarette and watches as you rise from your crumpled pile on the floor.

"Easy there, champ," he says. "I just did a hell of a number on your genetic code. Would you kindly tell me how it feels?"

You stare blearily at him, but the words come easily. "Dizzy," you say. He chuckles.

"Foine, fine. T'be expected, really. Would you kindly come over here?"

As if in a dream, you step over and stand beside the chair he sits in. He looks you up and down.

"Aren't we obedient," he says with a grin. "Let's try something a bit harder. Be honest now, love. Are ya scared of me?"

You nod vigorously. "Yes."

"And would y'like me to let you leave now so you can get safe back home?"

"Yes," you say again.

"Wonderful. Would you kindly take off your clothes instead?"

Your eyes widen for a fraction of a moment, then robotically, efficiently, you reach for the top button of your shirt and begin to comply. Atlas nods approvingly and blows cigarette smoke at you.

"Funny thing about leading a rebellion," he says as you remove your top. "You give a speech, and even the ones who aren't on your side want t'hear it. Easy enough to be heard by the masses, but with the right frequencies and the right phrases worked in, add a plasmid to the mix…" he trails off, his gaze lowering as your undo the zipper at your waist and shrug off the bottom half of your outfit, followed by your underwear.

"Well," he says, smirking, "let's just say I'm pleased with the results, darlin'."

You finish disrobing, your clothes and shoes a small pile at your feet. Atlas pats a hand on his knee.

"Sit down right here, would you kindly."

You shiver in the open air, but take the two steps over to him and sit, your bare thighs draped across his clothed ones. You can feel a growing hardness against your ass. He hooks an arm around your back and lets his hand hover at the crook of your hips, thumb running idly along your pelvic bone. He inhales on the cigarette, then holds it out to you. His smile is earnest and kind as he makes his next request.

"Burn yourself, would you kindly."

Your brain reacts as it must, but instinct works in your favor. You quickly imagine the least painful spot you can, take the cigarette, and lower it to the palm of your other hand. He places a hand firmly over your wrist and pauses the motion.

"Oh, very smart," he says, sounding amused. "Let's pick somewhere else though, aye?" his hand lets go of your wrist only to smooth it's way down your neck, over your chest, just around the side of your hips and lower until it settles at your inner thigh. He gives the sensitive area a squeeze, and you whimper audibly.

"Put that cigarette right here, would you kindly" he says. You shudder as your muscles already twitch to carry out the command, your legs spreading wider apart in his lap as you lower the cigarette and-- you bite down on your lips, choking back a loud scream. He pulls you to him, his lips and teeth running small nips over the length of your collarbone, all the way down to your nipples, as he murmurs quiet praise. You cry out. The pain fades away slowly, and his mouth on your skin is building up an unwanted heat between your legs. He hooks a hand under your chin and brings your eyes up to meet his. His other hand runs down your body to cup your crotch, testing your arousal. What he finds there makes him smirk.

"Aren't you a sick little thing?" he asks. For the first time, you attempt to jerk away. His eyes narrow as he grabs you firmly by your hair, tugging you back into place. With an easy shrug of his shoulders the suspenders fall away, and he lowers one hand to undo the button of his trousers.

"Ever sucked a man off before, love?" he asks, freeing himself of his pants and rubbing his stiff erection against your bare skin.

"I-" you begin.

"I don't actually care," he interrupts you. "On your knees, would you kindly, and put that mouth to work."

Atlas relaxes back into the chair as you clamber off him, your knees hitting the hard, dirty wood of the floor. You take him in one hand and your mouth lowers down onto his thick girth. He groans and wraps a strong hand into your hair.

"Jaysus, kid," he says, pushing you further down. His hips jerk up, thrusting his cock into your throat. Tears well at the corners of your eyes as your force yourself not to gag. He holds you still and close to him while he repeats the rhythm, over and over. You try to mumble out a protest, but if the catch of his breath is any indication, the noise only serves to arouse him. He thrusts up a little harder and you dig your nails into his legs at the feeling.

A few more groans on his part, and then you feel your hair being tugged sharply. You rise, taking in deep gasps of air. Atlas rises as well, pushing you up against the desk and lifting you until your ass balances on the edge and your back leans against a wall. He slaps your thighs lightly.

"Hold these open for me, would you kindly," he says. You comply, wrapping your arms underneath your knees and bringing them wide apart. He squeezes your ass with one hand while the other traces a faint outline around your entrance. To your shame, it makes you moan. He raises an eyebrow at the noise and his touches become rougher as he slowly, methodically, begins to work you over.

"That's just perfect," he hisses between heavy breaths. "Nice and ready for me, aren't ya?" Two fingers retract, only to be replaced by the tip of his cock. You whimper, but your hands keep yourself spread for him. He palms your chest, pinching one nipple. His lips descend over your ear and he murmurs

"Would you kindly beg to be Atlas' little whore?"

A series of high-pitched pleads and nonsensical begging tumbles out of your lips, your voice more desperate than you have ever heard it. He groans, "fuck, yes," at your words and pushes himself inside. You feel stretched, instantly and perfectly filled. He wastes no time in building his pace up, no thought is spared for your comfort, and you cry out as the length of him pumps into you violently. Even between cries, you find that you can't stop begging. Each request from your lips causes his hands at your waist to clench harder, his brows to furrow as sweat builds on his forehead and his cock continues to abuse your tight insides.

"That's it, kid, take," he grunts, "take it-- ah!"

Ribbons of hot cum shoot into you as he moans over your shaking body and buries himself inside it. He applies a delicate, teasing set of fingers to your sex and within moments you are screaming in orgasm. His face is a satisfied smirk, sweaty and drunk with pleasure as your climax tenses you around him in the final moments of his release. Your hands grip the table and his grip you as you stay together a moment, shuddering and breathing hard. Finally he stands up straight, withdrawing from you and collapsing back into his chair. He pulls another cigarette out and lights it, watching you as you struggle to come back down, his cum slowly dripping out of you and onto the surface of the desk.

"Welcome to the rebellion, darlin'," he sighs, exhaling smoke.

unf yes perfecttttt thank you

I would like to thank you for requesting this because I'm pretty sure you are one of the people who knew I was writing it anyway, and now it has a place to go :D

Fucking fucking fuckity fuck me.

IM DEAD AND GONE HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN TO ME IVE MADE MY MISTAKES WHY IS EYE TRAUMA HOT NO DONT DO THIS TO ME ITS NOT FAIR

I AM THE WORST FATHER ON THIS GODLESS EARTH GOODBYE

WHO ARE YOU THANK YOU T H A N K Y O U

Get as gory as you want you think I'm on this kink meme for ponies and kitties? BE CREATIVE LITTLE MOTH I will probably love anything.

Jack jacks off to the idea of Atlas fucking him hard and painfully like the little masochist he is
Atlas watches and/or listens

WOW THIS IS SOME REALLY GOOD READERFIC GOOD JOB WELL DONE I SUPER APPROVE

jesus CHRIST this is good oh my GOD

u guys are artists right. how about some broad faced, broad nosed, broad shouldered jack. bleeding, bare, dancing the merengue on a pile of splicer corpses, I don't give a darn. just some canon-ass jack.

IM GONNA FILL IT with my cum

possibly filling this! do you have a particular preference?

jack is doing the do with [character of your choice] when all of a sudden he has a bee episode

oops

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 2 of 34

BIOSHOCK KINK MEME

Re: sander/jack, fellatio

subject delta/alex the great, fluff, feeding

Re: jack/atlas, feeding, stuffing, belly

no subject

Re: Jack and Atlas take a field trip the the medical pavilion

Tenentaine, shaving

Re: jack/atlas, feeding, stuffing, belly

Jack/Fontaine, Circumcision

jack/radio

Re: jack/radio

Re: sofia lamb / mark meltzer, mind control

atlassss readerficcccc

Re: atlassss readerficcccc

Re: atlassss readerficcccc

Re: atlassss readerficcccc

Re: sofia lamb / mark meltzer, mind control

anon who requested

Re: Jack and Atlas take a field trip the the medical pavilion

Jack/Atlas, Masturbation/Voyeurism

no subject

no subject

[art request] canon jack

Re: Jack/Atlas, Masturbation/Voyeurism

Re: [art request] canon jack

jack/anyone, bees