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

(Anonymous) 2014-04-02 03:02 am (UTC)(link)
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...
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?”