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

There are a few cold days in June, when the temperature drops and Jack finds himself smoking for reasons other than sexual experimentation. Winter Blast has one very nice side-effect, which turns out to be resistance to all kinds of cold. So while the nasty wet weather has everyone else huddled inside, he’s able to do his chores like usual and muck about outside.

It’s also a chance to test out Winter Blast and see if it has the same effect on him that Incinerate did. That’s when Jack discovers one major downside to his late-night experiments: when you get in trouble, nobody knows where you are and nobody can help you. Not that he necessarily wants anyone to find him, not when he’s frozen to the hayloft floor and any amount of pulling just makes it worse. It was going well until he decided to ice-blast himself and… well. He should have known. This was not one of his brightest moves.

He’s got enough EVE left that he’s able to get a fire going in his palms, though there’s not enough to blast and melt himself free. Instead, he spends the better part of two hours slowly melting his thighs and groin free of the ice block. Any enjoyment he got out of it is completely ruined and there’s a dull throb in his balls that doesn’t go away even after he gets his pants on. Lesson learned: don’t ice blast any part of himself, ever.

Jack heads back to his bedroom as the sun starts to come up. It’s going to be a long, cold day. He better hope there’s hot water left in the house because he needs a warm shower.

There’s one upside to all of this: after the mess with Winter Blast, he decides to skip Sonic Boom entirely. It’s one thing to freeze your junk in ice and another to hit it with gale force winds.

Jack has done a lot of stupid things to his dick, enough that there’s a list in his head of all the plasmids that aren’t any good for him. But for all the dumb things he’s done, he feels pretty confident that as long as he never adds Cyclone Trap to it, he should be fine.

To say he’s worried is an understatement. He’s never been stung by his bees, but that doesn’t mean they won’t if they feel threatened. Trying to explain to Tenenbaum why he needed to see her medical texts was embarrassing enough when he thought he might have frostbite and had a possible excuse for that. Asking about bee stings in sensitive areas will be all but admitting what he’s been doing.

But he wants to know. He’s felt the bees crawl over his arms before and found the sensation to be a fairly pleasant one. Jack can’t help but wonder if it would feel the same to have them crawling lower. He puts it off, trying nearly everything else first and even trying a few things twice. But he’s a curious man. Jack needs to know the answer, even if he’ll regret it later. So once more, he waits until it’s dark out and everyone’s asleep before he heads to the hayloft. He’s nervous, smoking with trembling hands as he tries to assure himself he won’t completely regret this.

Jack takes off his pants like usual and tugs his sweater over his head, not wanting to have any bees accidentally caught up in it. He can’t figure out where he wants to sit and spends an awful lot of time just setting up. Stalling isn’t doing him any favours and he finally forces himself to sit down and just focus on the EVE burning through his veins. He licks his lips and summons Insect Swarm, feeling the familiar pinching sensation as his skin opens up and forms bee burrows. It’s not the most pleasant thing to look at, but once they open, it doesn’t hurt at all. Jack watches as the big fat honey bees crawl out of the holes in his flesh and make their way lazily along his hands and up his arms. He lets them settled in, making sure they’re calm before he carefully sets his hand on his cock, giving them a way over.

The first one that crawls on tickles him a little. The bee can barely be felt, her feet lightly walking over his bare flesh. She buzzes softly, sending an invitation to the other bees. His breath catches in his throat as he feels a second join, and a third and a forth, their tiny legs tickling his skin as they cross between his wrist and his cock. He watches intensely, feeling anxious and aroused and maybe something that’s a little of both. The bees crawl around his dick and he carefully moves his fingers out of the way for them. They stop now and then, rubbing their forelegs together and pressing their bodies against his cock, rocking back and forth a little with their stingers in the air as they try to suss out what they’re currently holding onto.

More crawl out of his arm and onto his cock, until there are dozens upon dozens of little bodies moving over him. As they buzz, they vibrate, and the more there are, the more he feels it. The sensation is unique and pleasant, and Jack’s hard as a rock as they scurry across the head, the soft hairs on their bodies brushing over his flesh. He does his best not to make any sound, desperately trying not to startle them in any way. Jack just tightens his free hand in the blankets below him and keeps his arm tilted towards his shaft.

They don’t just stay on his cock. The bees begin to wander, some choosing to crawl on his thighs or his stomach and trace their patterns there. Others head even further south until Jack is trembling a little with effort as he lets them wander across his balls. His face pulls tight as he bites both lips to stay quiet, the moving mass on his body the only thing he can focus on. The sensation is extraordinary, so many delicate touches everywhere, all at once.

His attempts to stay silent come to an abrupt end as a bee decides that the wetness at the tip of Jack’s cock must be nectar and she extends her proboscis to drink it up. The desperate moan seems to frighten them a little, causing a few to fly into the air. But they don’t sting him and the honey bee continues to probe the head of his cock, sucking lightly at anything that interests her. Another joins in soon after, and another, until there are a few bees carefully making their way around the head of his cock, drinking the precum leaking out of him. Jack takes a couple of deep strained breaths, forcing his fist to relax before he accidentally rips the blanket up. The few bees flying around finally land again, choosing his chest as a safe place to wander about. His groin is covered in black and yellow striped bugs, and he should be freaking out, but all he can focus on is the unbelievably satisfying way they’re rubbing against him.

Jack is so hard it hurts, and the vibrations around him and the dozens of light touches are driving him slightly insane. He wants to grip his cock and stroke it hard, but instead he just stays seated and watches the bees crowd his flesh, pushing against each other gently as they try to make their way up and down his shaft. The buzzing sound has gotten lodged in Jack’s mind and he starts to grunt softly as they slowly, carefully push him towards an orgasm. It seems to take forever to reach it and he forces himself to be patient, to enjoy the way they’re touching him ever so perfectly. It’s almost like being touched by someone else entirely. Jack had no idea how much he wanted something like that until this very moment.

It feels like he’ll never reach that moment when he tips over the edge, but it comes all the same, the careful probing of a few curious bees making his whole body tense up in anticipation. It takes all of his concentration to pull the bees back with his mind, not wanting to hurt any of them even if they feel good. They retreat from the head of his cock just in time as Jack comes with a sharp grunt. The buzzing intensifies and the bees vibrate faster and he crams his left hand in his mouth to keep from making any more sounds.

Jack doubles over, breathing hard and trembling as his cock twitches with each spurt, until finally there’s nothing left to come out. The bees keep on moving over his flesh through it all, dragging out the orgasm until he feels empty. He stays bent like that as the bees slowly crawl up his body and back into his arm, nesting in his flesh. The sensation should be terrible but it’s comforting instead, knowing they’re as sated and happy as he is.

Jack’s so wrapped up in the afterglow and pleasure of what just happened that he doesn’t hear the barn door open. It’s only Tenenbaum’s voice that catches his attention, turning the afterglow into cold terror. “Jack, are you here?”

He desperately racks his brain for a solution. His clothes are too far away to get on without making any sound, and even if he could, there’s the mess up here to clean up. But he can’t stay quiet either and risk having her look upstairs. Jack’s feeling desperate now. There’s a shot of EVE left in his veins but it’s not much. He does the only thing he can think to do and reaches for the one thing that might save him, pulling Target Dummy up and throwing him downstairs, in the corral outside.

“Jack?” She turns toward the ghostly figure, opening the door and stepping outside. That gives him time to shove his pants back on and get them done up, yanking his sweater on next. The blanket’s kicked over the mess he made and he quickly heads down the ladder, hoping he doesn’t smell too much like he was just messing with himself.

He pulls the target dummy away and sticks his head out the door. “Sorry, I was working on something. Is anything wrong.” Jack hopes she doesn’t wonder too much about the Target Dummy, and hopes even more that she doesn’t recognize what it was.

Tenenbaum lifts her lamp higher, and the look she gives Jack makes him afraid for a moment. Does she know what he’s been doing? He really, really hopes she doesn’t. Her eyes remain skeptical as she steps near him, speaking softly. “Have you been smoking?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry.” There’s no point in denying that. Better to be caught smoking than have her realize the reason reason he’s been doing it. “I’ve been trying to get out of the habit but… it’s hard not to.”

She doesn’t soften, but she does lower the lantern a little. “We all have our vices. Smoking is not so bad. But stop skulking around. I do not like when you disappear without any words.”

It’s the closest he’s ever heard her come to saying that she worries about him. Jack just nods, wiping his hands on his pants. “Alright, that’s fair. I’ll let you know when I come out here. Is it okay if I leave a note?”

“That is… acceptable.” Tenenbaum agrees. The lantern all but hangs by her side, illuminating the ground below them but leaving their faces in shadows. “Will you be here much longer?”

“No, I’m just finishing up. The tack room’s nearly done being organized.” That’s not a total lie. It did need organization, though he did that a few days ago. He figures it’s the easiest thing to say rather than ‘sorry I need to clean up the mess I made while jerking off’. “I’ll be there.”

“Good. And wash your clothes. They stink.” She wrinkles her nose a little and heads out of the barn without another word. Jack waits until the light fades before he lets himself relax. That went much better than expected. There’s still a mess to take care of. A load of laundry sounds about right, especially if he wants to keep that blanket clean and ready for next time. Assuming there is a next time.

Jack sighs and climbs the ladder, his legs still a little unsteady. He knows damn well there will be a next time. So long as doing this lets him sleep well, he’ll keep doing it. And it’s better to do it here than in the house.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Ain’t no Atlas, kid. Never was. But, that doesn’t mean you still can’t work for him.”

-

His mind has been a blur since then, a series of somehow related sensations—needles, words, guns, orders, touches, pain, pleasure—a fast-paced ride that he doesn’t know how to stop, or if he wants to at all.

It’s faster than usual, sometimes, and it’s even harder to focus on the present moment, letting his body move as it’s willed, letting the power surge through him and be directed in wherever his master wants it to go, and sometimes he’s rewarded with more of whatever it is that’s making his sense of time distort like this, his mind racing faster and faster until he can’t even feel properly anymore.

But then, there’s times when it’s slower. Not as slow as he remembers it, when he can remember the past, but far enough removed from his usual pace that it creates an ache, a need to return back, and most of the time, it doesn’t last long—one moment he’s half-collapsed and breathing heavily into his knees, and the next, there’s the prick of a needle in his arm and the glow of power running through him again.

Sometimes, though, it lasts longer.

He’s weak, too weak to fight as he’s shoved bodily into a familiar-looking room—he sleeps here, he thinks, most of the time—and pushed onto the ground, breathing hard, trying to get a fix on his surroundings.

“Think you can fight me?” the voice from the other presence in the room is saying, the voice that controls him, the voice that usually has a different accent, when they’re out with others, but not now, not when they’re alone. “Think you can take me down, still, after all this time? After all I’ve given you?”

He doesn’t know if the words are being directed at him or not. He doesn’t even know if they’re really being said, or if it’s just a fragmented memory coming back to him, or a dream, or an illusion caused his mind slowing down and losing focus.

“Or- no, it’s the complete opposite, ain’t it?” He’s rolled over onto his back, the ceiling coming into view. “You’re too much of a dumb brute to recognize your master anymore.”

Master—

His memories spin and fade into his mind—a fight, a group against another group, the group on the other side shouting something, the group on his side nebulous and unfamiliar save a single person, a single smile and a single word, “Kill.”

He remembers letting the fire loose from his body, throwing lightning at the ones who tried to escape, picking up stragglers with a flick of his wrist and twisting their necks with his mind.

He remembers the feeling of pure ecstasy as the power flooded through him, the feeling of longing to kill again as the bodies started to pile up, the numbers of standing figures decreasing.

He remembers turning around, looking for a new target, and fixing his attention on the first figure he saw—friend? Foe? Living. Soon to die.

He remembers fighting his way through at least two new figures, figures who shouted protests different from the ones on the other side, figures who started screaming towards their leader, ”Whose side are you on, you spliced-up freak?!” “Atlas, call your dog!” “Atlas!”

“Look at me.”

His vision focuses on the face above him, a familiar face, the one who gives him orders, the one who gives him power. Atlas—

“I don’t know what the fuck you think you are, but you’re mine, understand?” There’s a hand around his throat. “I don’t take kindly to disobedient dogs.”

Atlas. Atlas. Fontaine? Names swirl through his memories, putting titles to faces and faces to feelings—Atlas is Fontaine. Fontaine gives him Adam. Adam gives him power. Power feels—

He moans, low and cut off slightly by the hand on his throat, but only slightly, barely any pressure at all, but his whole body feels weak, dizzy, barely able to concentrate on Atlas-Fontaine-Adam-Power.

And then—“Would you kindly-“ and his body snaps to attention, his mind blanking and opening and waiting, “-pay attention. Concentrate.”

His mind clears the best it can in his state, as he slowly emerges as if from a dream, remembering—Atlas, Fontaine, he’s got Adam, he’s got him hooked on Adam so bad he’ll do anything to get more, he’ll kill anyone he’s told to, or—or not told to.

He’d made a mistake. Atlas is angry.

“Do you need a reminder of who you belong to?”

He doesn’t know. Maybe. His mind was clouded by plasmid and blood at the time, he could barely remember what a human face looked like by the time he was out of the battle, he’d—

”Would you kindly stop, sit down, and stay there until I tell you! Christ, let’s go forward, we’ll worry about the kid later!”

He’d turned around, saw something breathing, and barreled towards it, until his body suddenly stopped moving and his sensation dulled to a vague sense of sounds, the shake of floorboards, the smell of gunpowder.

“I don’t care how fucked up you are on Adam, you’re not gonna go forgetting my face.” Atlas takes his hand of his throat and instead winds it back for a punch to the jaw, the force sending shocks through him before the pain starts to throb. “I can make you hurt more than any rebellious goon that I put you up against.”

It’s true, he remembers vaguely, a memory of “would you kindly feel-” floating through his head, a reminder, a warning.

“But,” he continues, reaching out of his field of vision and retrieving something small, something glowing dimly, “I can also make you feel more alive than you ever have in your miserable science fair of a life.”

There’s a pressure on his arm—dimly, he remembers when there used to be pain where the needle breached him—and suddenly his vision returns to the familiar glow of Adam in his blood, the world inches towards its usual pace.

It’s good, but it’s not enough, and it leaves him needing more.

“Remember now?” Adam-Atlas-Fontaine asks, “Remember what I can do for you? Remember why you need me?”

He nods, slowly, still too slowly, he needs more, he wants—

He gets more, doesn’t even notice when or how it’s given to him, his senses are starting to cloud and sharpen at once, he could move right now but he feels no desire to, no need to, no one has ordered him, so he shuts his eyes and languishes in the power flowing through him.

It’s too hard to focus, but he was told to, he tries and he’s able to process some of what happens but not why or how long it takes. He’s told to move, to stand, to lean over a table, there’s vague sensation as his clothes are removed. His skin isn’t as sensitive as it used to be, probably, his memory of his senses before is fuzzy but he can vaguely recall not having so many scars, burns, manipulated genes that toughened his hide, but then he’s told to pay close attention, to burn his master’s touch into his memory, and then there’s fire running up his sides, over his chest, inside of him, stretching him open.

Fontaine-Atlas-Master continues whispering commands as he presses inside of him, remember, would you kindly, obey, would you kindly, not giving him any actions to perform but rather rebuilding his mind, breaking it down and putting it back together in whatever image he wants, and he’s being torn apart from the inside in too many directions—the words, the Adam, the man inside him—

He’s grabbed by the hair and his neck is twisted until he can see a face, the face he remembers now, the face he can’t forget, the face he can’t harm, and it’s so much, it’s too much, and he loses himself completely, forgets the time and place and his own being, nothing in his mind but Atlas-Adam-Fontaine-Master-Adam-Atlas-Power-Fontaine-Atlas—

He’s dimly aware of the motion of their bodies having stopped, even if his world is still spinning, and the presence filling him up slowly pulls out, leaving him shaking and alone with just a few words left to him: “Good boy.”

He doesn’t know how long he’s left there, how long he’s content to stay bent over and vulnerable, absorbing stimuli at a fluctuating rate, just the sensation of his breath going in and out of his lungs enough to keep him occupied. But eventually that feeling transitions into the sensation of his body being moved, his consciousness slipping slowly into sleep as he’s maneuvered into a new position, flat on his back, unable to move for another while.

And then, time shifts again, as his body wakes up from dreamless rest, six or seven hours past without his notice, and the only indication of the passage of time is the need for more Adam, more power, more—

And he receives it.

From his master.

And he can work again, refreshed, renewed, reminded.

WHAT THE HECK SHH IT'S AS SEXY AS POSSIBLE IT'S LITERALLY PERFECT GOD SAVE THE QUEEN

something with andrew ryan and mr. house from fallout: new vegas. preferably not porny because porn really isn't my thing but if that's the way the cookie crumbles i'll eat it up anyway. i just want to see this happen!! i'm surprised it doesn't already exist somewhere out there and i'd do it myself but i just... cannot write this type of character at all.

obvs this would probably be au and i can see it working both ways. ryan in the mojave. house in rapture. w/e.

anyway here's a thank you for your time and have a good day!! to everyone who reads this humble request.

Goddamn this is glorious

I want to write this so bad but I suck at writing

Okay, I get that 90% of all Jack/Atlas fics involve Jack losing his virginity, since who the hell else would he have to do it with? But for once, and I (mostly) don't care who it is, can we see Atlas making a big deal out of the fact that he's taking someone's virginity?

Also the two people who know who is posting this comment should keep their mouths shut. Yes.

YES.

Please

I should keep my mouth shut? I'm not the one who posted the prompt, sugar. So I could keep my mouth shut, or, I could fill it if the 'ol muse decides to wake for a spell.

damn u

In the book they are canon. I'm surprised I never saw anyone write the scene in detail.

They are in Fontaines office on the couch after a bit of wine, Tenenbaum is very awkward, but is telling Fontaine what to do.

Heres pictures of the pages-http://i.imgur.com/kd8kQYF.jpg http://i.imgur.com/pO0eUko.jpg

This ship honestly was my NOTP and I was icked when I read it but now,

I want to read it.

I just want something fluffy-ish with Jack being ticklish because that's so goddamn adorable

if i get a say i vote you fill it

if no one else does i might and than it will be scary

jack getting fucked on a piano

i read this as "jack being fucked by a piano" and i legit cracked up

atlas dicking around in jack's head with WYKs to tell his brain to process every touch sensation as pleasure so he's hard and needy just from atlas slapping him across the face or cutting him up.

alternatively the opposite in which he tells jack to process everything as pain and then just kind of touching jack gently all over while he screams and cries and begs him to stop.

or both. both is good.

THIS IS LITERALLY

WHOA. WHOA WHOA WHOA. WHOA. WHOA. WHOA WHOA WHOA. WHOA. WHOA

FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY SOMEONE FILL THIS.

I can't be the only one on earth who thinks Liz is an attractive lady. So maybe some readerfic? I don't care which Liz, or whether or not there is the scooby doobie do, I just wanna piece of that action :B

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Page 25 of 34

BIOSHOCK KINK MEME

Jack Off - Winter Blast

Jack Off - Cyclone Trap

Jack Off - Insect Swarm

OP

fill (not as sexy as it could've been sorry friends)

OP

because i fucking love crossovers (ryan/mr. house from fallout:nv)

Re: Some Beauty - Jackie/Atlas [noncon, mind control] 3/3 OP

Re: bioshock coffee shop au

Atlas emphatically de-virginizing someone

Re: Really RoughJatlas, knifeplay, gunplay

Re: fontaine readerfic

Re: Atlas emphatically de-virginizing someone

Re: Atlas emphatically de-virginizing someone

Fontaine/Tenenbaum- Blindfolds

Jatlas

Re: Atlas emphatically de-virginizing someone

Re: Good end Jack cute gen fluffy family times

piano

Re: piano

jack/atlas sensitivity stuff

Re: jack/atlas sensitivity stuff

Re: jack/atlas sensitivity stuff

Re: Delta/Sinclair: Sinclair's Smile

Elizabeth Readerfic