biotrash | 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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

jack getting fucked on a piano

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

I want to fill this but... Well.. Let's not kid ourselves, I am filling it but is alright if I use Sander and Jack?

=^x^=

(I didn't get a chance to proofread this on my phone. Apologies for any spelling errors =^x^=)

Jack found himself drawn to the piano on the stage and before he could help himself, his shotgun was slung back over his shoulder and he was seated in front of it. His left hand lit up the keys and illuminated them in a bright blue making them seem ever more tempting.

He had never played one before, never had the urge to play one but this beautiful, untouched piece in the half destroyed room seemed to beckon his touch. Just as Jack's hand was coming down to rest on the ivory keys, the sound of a body shift behind him drew him from his focus.

A hand on either shoulder stopped him from turning and Jack flinched, ready to fight off the splicer who had disturbed him in his moment of peace. His left hand lit up with the charge, an electric bolt being prepared.

"I did not take you as one to appreciate and practise the arts."

The familiar voice pulled Jack from his defensive mindset and he relaxed, if only by a little. It was Sander Cohen, the man who insisted upon him helping with his little art project, if taking pictures of dead people could be considered as much.

"But then again, you are full of wonderous surprises aren't you, little moth?"

A hand trailed downwards and Jack flinched before noting that it had rested on top of his own, finger for finger. With gently easings from the hand above, he was soon being coaxed into paying a slow tune that sounded almost haunting. It was unfamiliar to him, not something he imagined the artist to have actually played in his glory days and it became obvious as to why after a few shaky notes.

"You never speak, do you? Never letting your words flow freely, you choose instead to speak with your actions, your results."

Cohen's voice grew as did his temper and Jack had but a moment to pull his hands back before his wrists were gripped and slammed back down onto the piano. The keys made an ugly sound as his palms connected with the notes. He tugged weakly attempting, to free his hands when a wispy voice in his ear sent a shiver down his spine. Jack gulped nervously, his adam's apple bobbing.

"Or perhaps.." His voice became deathly calm again. "You, like a fine instrument, just need proper tuning."

Jack panicked, not liking where this was going, leaned his body back only to meet the warm chest of the man behind him. He flushed at the feeling of hot breath in his ear, Cohen whispering intimately against the shell.

"Yes that's it, is it not? Do not fret, dear moth, I shall tune you properly. Till the very sounds that leave your throat are nothing but the sweetest of notes."

Jack had less then a moment to react before his ear was engulfed in warmth, a wet tongue exploring along the shell. It curled along the outside before teeth caugh the lobe and tugged gently, playfully. He squirmed in the others grip, lower lip trembling and body betraying his need to get away.

The mouth pulled away but was far from finished its path, Cohen choosing instead to explore the expanse of the pale neck before him. He nipped and sucked until the skin beneath was ripened and red.

"Now will you grant me a song, little moth?"

Jack bit his lip and lowered his head to the piano, hands pressed to the ivory keys heavily. It's not that he couldn't talk, he simply chose not to. In a world filled with psychotic spliced up madmen, there was no time to simply sit and chat. It was kill first, ask questions never. He learned quickly after his first encounter and despite not having the scars anymore, he still had ghost pains from all his fights. He would find himself touching where the meat hook had gutted him on his first 'death'.

"Not even a simple note?"

The words pulled Jack back from his thoughts and he shivered. He had a feeling things were only going to go downhill for him from here on.

"Well, what artist isn't known by his challenges? What artist doesn't strife to overcomes them and complete his vision?" Cohen let out a breathy sigh, his tone of great amusement. "You are but a challenge, little moth. A challenge that I enjoy immensely."

Oh my.. I don't even like Cohen/Jack.
Maybe I do now. Please continue, this is fucking awesome!
I pretty much felt the intimacy in this.

(Writing on my phone is tough. There's too many buttons for my fat fingers. Part are short for that reason cause I have no patience. =^x^= )

Hearing those words triggered Jack's fight or flight instincts. He squirmed and brought his head back, slamming the back of his skull into what he hoped to be the artists face. There was a satisfying impact that stunned him dizzy for a moment but the loosening grip and yell told him that he had been successful in his attack.

Jack pulled his arms free and stood up immediately. His hand shot to the gun strapped to his back, fingers curling around the grip and sliding it free from its holster. He didn't want to have to shoot the man. Cohen had proved to be honest and useful if not a bit eccentric and Jack wasn't judge or jury so he could hardly reign down punishment for what he did to his fellow artists. The splicers were one thing, a pity killing, like putting down a dog. He ou it in his head that despite it being cruel, he was doing them a duty. But Cohen was sane? Could he be considered as much? He was as sane as one could be in a place like this.

During that train of though he had managed to brandish the weapon before a hand grabbed a handful of his hair. Jack had but a moment to react, barely a surprised gasp escaping him as his face was slammed brutally onto the music rack. The entire piano shook from the impact and Jack whined in pain, head spinning from the blow.

"You don't wish to be compared to a moth, do you? You wanted to be looked upon as a wasp with a deadly stinger. You look the part-" The fist in Jack's hair tightened and he yelped, voice barely carried over Cohen's words.

"-fighting, breathing, striving for life. But I've watched you while you fluttered about my nest and you are anything but... You are no wasp."

Jack shook his head. He could barely comprehend what the man was saying to him. Then again, he never really could even before he was dazed with the sudden blow. Hands were upon him and the shotgun was pried from his fingers and tossed off stage. Once unarmed, his wrists were wound tightly behind his back and silk closed around them, tying them tightly together. Jack gave his hands a testing tug and found them to be bound tightly together.

A hum came from the spliced up man behind him and gradually grew into an amused chuckle. "No, no. You are not a wasp at all but neither are you a moth. You are still growing and changing within your chrysalis. Waiting for the moment to reach metamorphosis. You'll bloom and spread your wings and they'll be ever so lovely." The sickly sweet voice continued, a hand pressing him to the closed piano lid and kept him from moving out of place.

"No."

The artist seemed put back by those sudden words as could be told by the tightening of the grip on his wrists. "What did you say?"

Jack tilted his head as best he could and aimed a glare over his shoulder. His cheek was pressed to the glossy surface to the piano as he licked his dry lips and ground out his previous words.

"I said no." The sound was low and his voice almost cracked from disuse.

Cohen went deathly silent as if assessing this turn of event before speaking again. This time his words were higher in pitch and sounded almost frantic. The same way his voice had sounded when he referred to Jack as one of those 'doubters'.

"You have the audacity to not speak and then.... Your first words uttered in my presence are a denial of mine? You think you amount to more then I? That- that you can deny me my most prized possession? My words?!"

Flinching at the tone, Jack attempted a poor excuse of shaking his head. It was hard to do, pinned to a piano.

"Doubter! Out of all the people, the supposed connoisseurs, the audience, my disciples.. You are just like them! Your just like them!!"

BIOSHOCK KINK MEME

piano

Re: piano

Re: piano

Play me like a piano 1/?

Re: Play me like a piano 1/?

Play me like a piano 2/?