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


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

- bioshock trash crew proverb




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.


Re: Sander/disciples, coercion, non-con

(Anonymous) 2014-04-12 05:18 am (UTC)(link)
(I tried, I'm sorry)

Rehearsal never went well; Mr. Cohen always finds something to be angry about. That was before I got the lead.

At first I’d get yelled at, clipped on the shoulder. All my anger from getting rebuked was erased with a heavy swig of whiskey and swearing at him with the others in the play, they laughed, they understood. They told me that I was getting it easy. I never really thought it could get worse. Actually, that’s not true. I didn’t think it could get worse for me.

See, I’d always been a sort of side-line project for Mr. Cohen. I came to Fort Frolic as a bar tender and he thought I had talent for singing and acting. Before this role I’d always had side character roles. The supporting friend, the estranged lover, the comedic relief. Then I got the part of the lead, the female love interest. It was exhilarating yet strange, I was finally building my Rapture dream. Until that day.

It was ordinary, really. I guess Mr. Cohen was a little more on edge than usual, but he was always having a mood. I thought I was doing pretty well; others around me were doing well. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good for a beginning of the week rehearsal. It was mid-scene that he stormed the stage; it was the middle of the first big score. It was about how I thought I’d never find love in the place that I lived.

His face was full of the garish light and rage like I’d not seen directed at me before. I opened my mouth to apologize, but his open palm hit my face. My head twisted back and I saw stars, pain bloomed across my cheek. I looked back at him, ignoring the ringing in my ears.

“No, no, no, no, no! Tata tah tata tah!” he yelled. My fingers reached up to feel the damage on my face. I’d never been slapped. Not even when I was a bar tender. Anger brought more tears to my watering eyes, but I shoved it down. The only thing voicing my anger against Mr. Cohen would be more rage. “On your knees, little bird!” he yelled. I froze, my wide eyes locking on his face.

“Mm… Mr. Cohen..” I whimpered pathetically.

All I got was a cold anger that burned.

“I said on your knees, little bird.”

More tears slid down my face as I realized exactly what he meant, I worked outside Eve’s Garden too long to not know what he meant. I waited a second, expecting somebody to speak up.

That’s when I really remembered when he beat the lead so hard she spent a week in Medical, nobody spoke of it or stopped it. Or when he broke a pianist’s leg because he missed a note, I was there. I didn’t try to change it. Of course not, I was too afraid he’d direct his anger at me instead.

Slowly, I sank to my knees, weighed down by shame I felt brewing in my good cheek and sore one. He stood for a moment, just looking at me with narrowed eyes before stepping right up to me, his growing bulge right at face level. I swallowed hard, past a thick lump in my throat.

This could be worse. I try to tell myself. Of course I think I’d rather been beaten into Medical Pavilion, then again, I’ve never had to endure large quantities of pain. The humiliation flamed in my chest anyway.

He reached his paint stained hands with long, spidery fingers, down to his trousers’ zipper. My hands were shaking; actually my entire body was shaking. He slipped the zipper down and pulled out his leaking erection, my eyes widened at the sight of it. I’d never actually seen a male’s more… private parts. I’d always held on the idea of marrying pure. Too late for that, I supposed.

“Open wide, little bird,” he said in an almost cheery tone. I looked up at him to see a cold sort of glee upon his face. I reached my shaking hands up to place on either side of his pelvic bone to balance myself as slowly as I thought I could get away with before opening my mouth. I could almost feel the entire room’s heavy intake of breath as the tip passed my lips, soaking them in the salty taste of pre-cum. I had to open my throat in a position like I was taking in air to sing. It still wasn’t enough space and I felt choked, there wasn’t enough air.

“No!” I cried, but no sound got past his cock, just vibrations that he seemed to relish in. Then he pulled out, I could breathe. Then thrust it back in, too fast. It hurt, him ramming right up against the back of my throat. I tried as hard as I could not to gag, opening my mouth and throat as big as I could.

My tongue, which until that point had been pressed against my bottom teeth shoved up against his member. He moaned and my panicked eyes flicked up at him to see his head thrown back. Maybe if I did more of that he’d finish sooner and I could go. I rubbed my tongue on it as he went in and out. And in and out. And in and out. He tasted salty and something thick and heady that seemed to cloud my head. It tasted like… him.

I actually did gag and sputter when he came with loud moans. I tried to swallow it all, but it tasted odd and I couldn’t breathe again. The steamy ropes came and came as I gagged. He didn’t pull out until he was done and by the time I was done coughing he was all zipped up and done. I looked at the mess I’d made on the dark, shiny wood.

“End of rehearsal, this little bird needs to clean herself up,” he said with his tone filled with distain. I looked up at his retreating back; he showed no compassion for what he’d just done. I climbed off my sore knees and turned around. Most people were walking away. A few were giving me looks that ranged from sympathetic to disgusted. I used the back of my hand to wipe my mouth than turned, using the stage left door to exit the stage of nightmares.

When the tears started they came fast, over my swelling cheek and dripping on the floor. I couldn’t stand so I slid down the dressing room wall; my legs were weak and wobbly. I put my face into my hands and sobbed.

Humiliation didn’t even begin to describe the feelings I felt at that moment. He had used me for his own pleasure, in front of people who had mutual respect for. Now I was a tainted whore, tarnished with the act he forced me to do. How could I ever work again, how could I ever face anyone in this city again? One thing I knew was that it would become the gossip of the week.

I’d never felt disgusted with myself more than that moment. His flavor was still on my tongue and I could still feel his angry eyes boring into me. His pants and moans piercing my ears. Finally, after I’d cried all I could, I picked myself up off the ground, feeling empty, and walked to a Bath’o’Sphere. My heels clicked jauntily on the ground as they always did. The attendant smiled at me as he always did. I felt broken as I always would.