hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #2: ...'Cause a Hydra Trash Party don't stop

Dumpster #2: ...'Cause a Hydra Trash Party don't stop

Unholy hell-miracle achieved! Welcome to Bad Guys Do Bad Things To Your Faves 2: Electric Boogaloo. AKA the seamy sexual-violence-and-violent-sex underbelly of Captain America fandom, AKA the Hydra Trash Party kinkmeme. As usual, BLANKET NON-CON AND NSFW WARNINGS apply: just assume going in that everything in this landfill is unfit for human consumption.

Rules in brief: don't be a jerk except to fictional characters, warnings for particularly fucked-up garbage are nice but not required, thou shalt not judge the trashiness of thy neighbor's kinks unless thy neighbor is trying to pass off their rotting banana peels and half-eaten pizza crusts as a healthy romantic dinner for two, off-topic comments may be chucked out of the dumpster at management's discretion, management's discretion decrees that omegaverse, soulbond AUs, D/s-verse, non-superpowered AUs, and dark!good guys AUs are off-topic.

[Round 1] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by

greenkirtle)] [Round 2 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

Round 2 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 3.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

I want to see Bucky meet up with Hydra agents in a nightclub, maybe for a rendezvous after a mission, but either way they're already buzzed and rowdy and decide to have fun with him, i.e. feeding him shots, doing body shots off him, fucking his mouth with the bottle etc etc. It can be Rumlow or Rollins if you want, even Ward, anyone in Hydra really but I'd prefer two or more people involved!

I'd like it if Bucky's compliant and not violent but NOT overtly docile or happy about it--maybe he's at the end of a mission where he had a strong cover, or he's at the end of a cryo cycle or something--but then gradually progressing into VERY DRUNK BUCKY.

+ Somebody straddling him in a corner booth and feeding him shots.

++ Forced drugging as well, maybe cocaine or ecstasy or something that would really fuck with his responses.

+++ It's a VIP section with a curtain that can be drawn so they can fuck him.

++++ Alcohol poured on him and/or alcohol poured on him that they try to light on fire I'M NOT SORRY

Hydra experiments with how to condition the WS to be obedient to his handler, but in the end one method shows most successful: being fucked by said handler.

Theoretically, it needn't be be rape, but in practice it always is.

Bucky gets fucked by every new handler to "establish dominance". Once that has happened, Bucky will not be able to physically harm that person, will actually even protect them with his life if needed, and will obey their orders. In the case two handlers would go up against each other, he would do nothing and wait to see who ends up on top, so to speak.

Sometimes the handlers would also "re-establish" dominance post-cryo, or simply because they enjoyed it.

Fast forward to Bucky being free, he still has a lot of old WS programming and triggers, and is potentially dangerous to others. The Avengers try to dismantle triggers and programming, but with limited success. Steve refuses to accept this, but after an incident of the writer's choosing, he's forced to admit Bucky is still dangerous.

Following this, Bucky begs Steve to fuck him, in order to make him obedient to only him.

Steve refuses at first, of course, but after things escalate even more he gives in.

Cue terrible guilt during the actual sex, when he's literally fucking Bucky into submission. If one or both of them cry, that would be great.

After the sex, things seem to go well, somewhat...until Steve starts noticing Bucky isn't just obeying him in terms of missions or combat stuff, but also more basic stuff like what to eat or wear.

Cue Steve being completely horrified and trying to undo it.

Up to author to choose if/how to fix this.

Bonus points if Bucky KNEW exactly what the results would be but asked to be fucked anyway to make himself non-dangerous.

Extra Bonus points if at some point Steve and Rumlow get into a physical fight, Bucky can't intervene, and Steve understands this means Rumlow raped him.

Oh my god I love this.

Guhhh this hits all of my buttons I love it.

OP. So much tension, oh my god, I need to read what happens next like right now or I may actually die. Bucky's desperate and conflicting needs to keep his secret and also fix things with Steve-- so lovely, and also so painful. This is my favorite :)

That last bonus oh lord.

(da) Agreed; this is the most visceral--and BEST--breaking Bucky story I've ever read.

That is beautiful and I agree

Sorry it took me a while to finish this! There should be like two or three more parts. I'm bad at short fills. :) Enjoy!

* * *
“Shh,” the squid who just fucked him is kneeling above his head, looking down on him and stroking his cheeks. When his thumbs brush against the sides of Bucky's eyes, drying his tears, he jerks his head away. The others chuckle and say something to their friend, probably telling him to give up already.
He glances down at the ribbon still on his cock, shuddering as he sees another man lining up. The man in question makes a face at Bucky's ass, grumbling, and the others laugh. He feels something brushing against his tender ass and he winces – it feels like sandpaper. The man is brushing the cum off. He shouts at another man.
“Geben sie mir ihre kantine!”
A canteen is brought and they pour it between Bucky's legs. The coldness of the water on his tender balls makes him yelp and he thrashes.
“Ah! Fuck!”
Laughter follows and he's being held firmly in place, the Steve looking squid smiling down at him and patting his cheek. He looks away, disturbed at how much the kid looks like Steve. Just taller than Steve used to be and... No. He's a fucking Nazi – he does not look like Steve!
“Get off of me,” Bucky hisses, getting fed up with this shit. He struggles, managing to yank his damaged right ankle loose and kicks the bastard about to push his cock into him in the chest. The man falls back with a yell.
Elated, Bucky snarls and yanks his arm free, punching another man to his right with it. The skinny kid at his head leaps back as he scrambles up.
He gets to his feet and groans, nearly falling again, as gravity tugs at his balls. His ass is already sore; he doesn't even want to imagine what it will be like when-
They're lunging at him when someone steps in the door and shouts. They all freeze, some of them with their hands on Bucky.
The one Bucky punched punches him back in the head quickly before freezing again. Bucky spits at him, then looks to the man in the doorway.
He seems to be a superior officer the way the others step back when he moves into the tiled room. He's wearing a black uniform, but nicer than the ones the others are wearing, with some kind of special armband on. He's balding with grey dappling his remaining hair, blue eyes, and a hooked nose. He glowers at the sight of Bucky, then turns to glare at his subordinates. They have the grace to look like kids with their hands caught in the cookie jar.
He demands something in German. Probably wondering what the hell is going on. Bucky feels a twinge of relief, thinking that maybe this wasn't authorized fun time and now he can go back to the stupid box. The thought that he's relieved to return to his cage makes him feel slightly sickened with himself, but he is sore and shaky.
The head squid spots the wood stocks on the floor and frowns. He kicks at it. One of the subordinates picks it up and grins at his officer, explaining and gesturing. The officer actually looks amused and chuckles, shaking his head. The guard holding it gestures to the blond who looks like Steve and the officer shakes his head again.
The officer says something, louder so that the others can hear, then the others let out a simultaneous groan. Bucky nearly smiles with relief. It sounds like they aren't happy about whatever he just said.
Now he's being escorted out of the room again.
Oh thank whatever God is in the sky!
Bucky allows them to herd him out of the room and back down the hall. He can go back into the box and get some damn rest. Well at least they didn't make him bleed. He doesn't see any blood trickling down between his legs.
He thinks they're going back to the lab but instead they pass it and take a right down another hallway.
He starts to get a bad feeling.
The officer is walking in front, the other two beside Bucky escorting him; one has the captive's arm in his hands, helping him walk. Bucky notices the officer in front of him smiling a little and glancing down at his cock, the ribbon still adorning it.
Bucky has the urge to snatch the ribbon off and throw it away, but his arm is being held firmly and any sudden moves might end up with him getting hit. His head's throbbing a bit from that punch and it's hard for him to keep pace with his ankle still in pain. s
They go right into another room and he finds himself in an office.
'Oh no. Oh god no.'
He's prompted to get on his knees and that's when he realizes that one of them has the wooden stocks.
He feels something sink inside of him and shatter against his stomach. Probably his soul.
His lips start to form a plea, but he stops himself, licking them instead and glaring at the filthy squid who stands behind his desk and smirks, fingers sliding over the wooden torture object. He snaps his fingers at one of the guards, muttering and gesturing and the two guards laugh before they move to push Bucky onto his one hand. The one behind him prompts him to spread his knees and he loses it again.
“No!” He shouts, spinning to his left and kicking out with his legs, knocking the one behind him over. Then he stumbles up and back into the wall, snagging some heavy object off a shelf. He doesn't even know what the hell it is – a bookend maybe. It has a nice, square base with sharp corners and he wields it with warning at the guard.
The officer looks surprised, then laughs. He waves the stocks at the guards, reprimanding them and gesturing toward Bucky.
The one on the floor sounds like he's cursing and the standing guard doesn't look too happy about approaching Bucky now that he has something heavy with pointy corners. Bucky sneers at him.
“That's right, bitch,” he says. “Come on.”
The officer is chuckling and shaking his head like the whole thing is hilarious. He looks like his eyes are tearing up. He gestures at the guards again and toward Bucky.
“Sich beileen!”
The one Bucky didn't kick rolls his eyes and lunges toward him while the other moves to grab his arm. Bucky raises the object, cursing. His wrist is grabbed and squeezed by the guard Bucky knocked down while the other grabs at his hair and hauls him away from the wall. Bucky yanks his wrist free and tries to hit the one grabbing his arm with it, but the squid stomps at his right ankle and he yelps, nearly dropping the object. The squid grabs it and steps back, dropping it onto the desk, then moves forward to help his companion grapple Bucky and haul him back onto his knees.
Bucky is still swearing at them and the pain in his ankle when the one grabbing him by the hair gets fed up and knees him in the stomach. He groans and stumbles and they push him the rest of the way onto his knees.
Once again he has a Nazi straddling him while the other takes the wooden stock and – having had enough of their captive's nonsense, uses his legs to pin Bucky's – begins to fit the stocks around his balls again.

He jerks, trying to fight, while the officer steps around the desk and kicks him in the ribs, commanding him, probably to stay still.
Bucky spits at him, glaring. The officer snorts, amused. He's tall and wiry and has a mean little glint in his eye that Bucky does not fucking like.
Of course there's nothing to like about this situation and he tries to calm his roiling stomach and the increased throbbing in his head and ankle as his balls are secured once more.
He blinks against the moisture in his eyes and curses when the Nazi on top of him shoves his head down roughly, then gets up.
Bucky glances up discreetly at the heavy object he'd grabbed, now resting on the table. It looks like some kind of huge brass acorn on a stand. A bookend. Damn pity he couldn't use those corners. Damn pity he doesn't have two fucking arms or he might already be out of here, with three bloody squids behind him. Even if they caught him, well maybe then at least they'd be more wary of him if they didn't kill him outright.
Instead he's here on his knees, in this device again, with some pervert chuckling down at him.
He says something and the guards grab Bucky, hauling him up on his feet again. He winces as the device pinches slightly at him. They reposition him so that he's lying over the desk and his one wrist is tied behind him and to his waist.
His legs are still free, but he has to set his feet wide so that he's not pinching himself. His face flushes again at how exposed he is and he closes his eyes in defeat, thumping his head down against the desk. One of the guards ruffles his hair and laughs, then slaps his ass as he hears them walking away. The door to the office closes and he's alone with the officer.

Now if only the bastard will monologue about some evil plans of his and maybe Bucky can slip his arm free. Or...
Or he could play along and wait until the guy's distracted...
He looks up as the man comes around the desk and sits down with a smirk in the chair in front of him. Bucky can't help the glare that comes over his face. But his glare fades slightly when he sees the cane the Nazi slides up off the floor. The squid raises his eyebrows wiggling the top of the cane in Bucky's face. There's an eagle on the top, a brass eagle. Of course there's a fucking eagle on it.
The cane is smooth, polished black wood, and he feels his eyes tearing up again. He fixes his jaw, his plans to play nice and distract the Nazi suddenly not so unappealing.
He looks up at the officer, noting the disgusting little smile on his face.
“Please don't,” he hates himself for the words as soon as they come out of his lips. “Please don't do this.”
The officer sighs and slides his fingers up and down the cane, smiling.
“Please don-” Bucky freezes as the eagle on the cane is suddenly pushed against his lips. He eyes it, crosseyed and puzzled, then looks up at the Nazi who smiles at him. The older man parts his own lips and licks at them, then glances to the brass eagle. He glances back up to Bucky and bounces his eyebrows once.
Great. Just fucking great.
Bucky isn't sure which is really the fire and which is really the kettle at this point; two dozen horny squids or one really sick bastard with a cane? He decides to try and make the best of the situation if there even is a best to make of it. He parts his lips and licks at the head of the cane.
The bastard stares, his lips parting again and lets out a quiet sigh. Holy fuck, he's getting off on this already.
Bucky licks it again, slower this time, flattening his tongue against it. He sucks at it after that, then swirls his tongue over it. Maybe creepy head Nazi won't be so bad if Bucky keeps him distracted.
He lowers his eyelids a little the way he knows used to drive Steve crazy as he teases the eagle with the tip of his tongue.
“Mm,” the officer's eyelids are a little heavy too and dark with lust. Bucky represses a shudder and keeps worshipping the eagle with his tongue. Then the officer decides to press it into his mouth and Bucky's eyes widen as he has a mouth full of brass.
He tries to gag it out, but the officer isn't having any of it, tutting at him and grasping his chin. Bucky's brows furrow, but he continues sucking, trying to swallow instead of coughing. Another pleased hum follows and his chin is released, his cheek patted.
The officer leans back, using his free hand to unbuckle his belt.
'Oh god, no, why,' Bucky almost wants to cry. His balls are going numb again and this bastard wants to fuck him in the mouth.
His face flushes as he realizes he's getting hard against the cold wood of the desk. Oh god, it's all so wrong. He tries not to think about what Steve would think if he could see Bucky right now-
Oh god and his face and neck are burning hot now, hips shifting as his cock swells underneath him. Somehow his messed up mind came up with the vision of Steve getting hard at seeing him like this.
A whine escapes him as he tries to readjust his legs so that he's giving the wood stocks plenty of room. Most of his weight is on the desk now, of course.
The Nazi is stroking himself as he begins to slip the cane in and out of Bucky's lips. It's hypnotic, almost soothing, and he lets himself get lost in the sensation of focusing on it, his eyes closing. There's a grumble and a slap to his cheek and he blinks, eyes opening again.
“Eyes open,” the officer tells him. Bucky wants to spit on him but he fights the urge. Apparently his glare motivates the Nazi, because he rises to stand and steps forward, cock pointing directly at Bucky's lips.
Ugh, god.
The eagle is soon slipped from his wet lips and Bucky licks them as he finds the head of a cock pressed his lips. His hair is smoothed back, then grasped, and his head is tilted back, the angle making him wince. His shoulders are still stiff and sore from the attentions paid to them earlier by the baton.
The eagle is tapped against his cheek.
“Biting nicht,” the man tells him. “I break your teeth.” Then the cane is raised over him, the foot of it poking his sack and he gasps tensing. “And this.”
Bucky swallows. The guy doesn't have to warn him twice. The last thing he wants is broken balls on top of everything else.
“Understand?” His hair is tugged and he glances back up and nods.
“Yes.” He wishes his voice wasn't so damn husky. His cock shrank a little at the prodding with the cane, but he finds it swelling again as the cock is pressed into his mouth. He groans a little as his mouth is filled. He can't help it – he's always been a fan of it, at least, with Steve anyway.
He misses Steve suddenly so sharply, even his big super soldier dick. Bucky's eyes tear up and he whines.
His hair is petted and the officer soothes him but it just makes it worse. He sobs, trying to focus as he sucks the cock in front of him.
'Come on Barnes, pull yourself together. Don't be so damn embarrassing. You can cry in your box later. God that's even more pathetic.'
He sniffles. He's going to get through this. He's going to survive however he can. He's gonna get the fuck out of here and he's gonna get back to Steve one way or another.
He begins to suck in earnest, bobbing his head. The Nazi groans and presses his hand down on the top of Bucky's head, stilling it and chuckling.
“Slow.”
'Oh you son of a bitch. Fine!'

NGH this is so hot. I love the image of some Hydra agent fucking his mouth with the bottle

He exhales through his nose, exasperated, then continues to suck, slower now. The officer rolls his hips forward, then back, humming with pleasure.
“Yes, gut.”
Bucky rolls his eyes as he keeps sucking. He uses his tongue to tease the head, flicking over the hole, and the man groans, stroking his hair. The other hand is busy using the cane to lightly smack at his ass. It's distracting and Bucky finds it more annoying than anything else. Still, he takes the rest of the cock in as the man groans and pushes forward.
Suddenly he's sliding out and Bucky takes the opportunity to breathe properly.
The worrying thing is that the man is moving around the desk, cane still in hand.
“W-wait,” he squirms, eyes widening. “Where you goin-”
“Shh,” the officer chuckles and pats his backside as he moves to stand to the side of Bucky's hips. He grabs Bucky's hips and hauls him back, so that his cock slides down over the edge. The man chuckles and grabs at it, squeezing and humming in approval when he finds it somewhat stiff. Bucky's face heats again and he wishes he could just melt into the floor.
Then the cane strikes down on his ass and he yelps.
“Wha... hey!” He thought he was being good! Why is he being caned?
He turns his head to glare at the Nazi over his shoulder. The man chuckles and smiles at him, rubbing his ass soothingly. Son of a bitch. Bucky is not enjoying this!
Then the man's hand grips his cock again, firmly, finger twiddling with the bow. He says something and Bucky catches the word 'winzig' again.
'Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me-'
The cane comes down again as he keeps Bucky's cock in his hand. A grunt is pushed from Bucky's lips and then he groans.
No, no, no, he is not going to to enjoy- oh God.
The officer is stroking him as he continues to give Bucky's ass slaps with the cane. Then he lightly slaps it on Bucky's sack and colors burst behind his eyes.
“Ah!”
The cane slaps on his balls again and he whines, face heating, as he realizes it makes his cock throb. Another slap follows and his cock throbs again. Bucky closes his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth. This is not happening. This is a nightmare.
The officer purrs at him and strokes him faster, murmuring what sounds like encouragement. Bucky doesn't even want to think about how many Nazis apparently enjoy torturing balls. He lets out a sob as the pleasure between his legs swells sweetly. The stroking is countered by slaps of the cane and he feels tears trickling down the sides of his face.
“Nn,” he shakes his head. “No...”
“Mm, ja.” The officer laughs softly and continues to stroke him, faster now. Bucky groans, squirming and receives a sharper slap to his ass. He stills and curses between his teeth.
The officer sighs and moves to stand between his legs.
'Oh god, no please, no...'
“Not again, please,” he begs, not caring about his stupid dignity anymore. What dignity? He's covered in cum and sweat and he's had a Nazi's cock in his mouth. He's come for them several times and he's feeling like he might even come again. He just really doesn't want anyone else inside of him today. He doesn't even remember how many were already in him and that realization makes him sob.
“Shh,” the officer strokes his back, murmuring nonsense. Then his fingers are pressing into Bucky's ass. He whimpers and stiffens at the intrusion. He had men in him earlier and he's still wet from their come, but now he's gotten a little tight again.
He gasps as the fingers brush against that spot again and he nearly sees stars. A groan is pushed from his throat as the man's fingers explore him.
“Oh God,” he sobs. “Please no.”
“Shh!” He can hear the man panting as the fingers slide out of him. Then the tip of his cock is being pressed into Bucky who groans in protest.
“No!” A sob follows it and his head hangs.
The man fills him slowly. Bucky just wants him to hurry up and get it over with even if it hurts. He suddenly can't tolerate the thought of someone inside him and squirms. The hand on his back presses down, stilling him. Then the cane is being laid over his lower back and the squid is pressing it down, pinning Bucky in place.
He whines, his own swollen cock hanging heavy between his legs. Not to mention the stocks that the bastard is just ignoring and the way each jostling of them causes a throb through his tender flesh.
Bucky can't take it. It's too much. He doesn't want to come again but it's a sensory overload. He whines between his teeth as the officer begins to rock in and out of him, slow as honey. It stings and he grimaces.
“Stop,” he begs. “Please...”
“Nn-nn,” the officer chuckles and reaches under Bucky to grasp his swollen cock, squeezing. He strokes a few times and Bucky clenches his teeth. He squirms and the man presses down with the cane making his captive wince.
He returns to rocking in and out slowly. Bucky sags against the desk, his cheek resting on it's smooth surface. There's a paper near his nose and he wonders what's written on it. It's probably in German anyway. Maybe... maybe he can catch a gli-
He gasps and tenses as the man's cock brushes against that spot inside of him. Biting his lower lip, Bucky wills himself not to be excited despite the way the man inside of him is beginning to rock faster and now he's squeezing Bucky, milking him, his thumb brushing under the head, smearing precum.
Now he's pounding harder, brushing ruthlessly against that spot inside of Bucky and he lets out a sob. His balls are starting to slap against Bucky's trapped ones, stabs of sensation throbbing up Bucky's sack, into his cock. He squirms again and it just seems to excite the squid into pounding even harder.
The squid turns his hand a certain way and just like that, Bucky's coming again. His hips roll back and he can't stop, can't help it. He hates himself for it but it just feels too good.
His mouth falls open and he groans, face and neck burning again. He hears a gasp and a stammer and the officer is following him, rutting wildly before stilling.
Bucky's face feels bloodless as he sags and he blinks heavily, then licks his lips. He shivers a little, cold now that he's noticing the damp sweat on his body.
The officer stumbles away, slipping out of him and cursing. His ass is patted again and Bucky curses himself mentally for once again getting off. He's got to be the champion slut of squid land by now. It would be funny if it wasn't so fucking depressing.
He thinks of Steve longingly and groans.
“Shh,” the officer is tucking himself away and sounding pretty cheerful as he begins to hum. He sets the cane down somewhere before stroking Bucky's balls. Bucky jerks – he's way too sensitive for that.
The officer chuckles, then stops, standing back. He moves around the desk as if enjoying the sight from different angles and Bucky almost wants to ask if he's planning on taking a damn picture. He doesn't want to give the squid any more awful ideas though.
His cheek is patted fondly and then the guards are being called in. Bucky freezes, afraid he'll be hauled back down the hall to be raped by more of them, but they unscrew the stock.
He sighs in relief as the blood circulates properly again and then he's being hauled upright. He groans and sags in their arms. The officer chuckles and says something cheerfully to the others and they laugh. One of the guards points to the cum on the side of the desk. Bucky's cum. His face heats again.
He's bent over, his face pressed close to the cum. He turns his head away, cursing at them. They laugh and press his cheek against it, push the side of his head so his face will turn toward it.
“Eat!” The officer orders, tapping Bucky's ass with the cane again. The guards are giggling as he, with disgust, begins to lick it up.
Finally, he's pulled away from the desk. He wants to vomit on one of them. Might be nice, covering their boots with what they just made him lick up.
He's not put in the cage. Instead, he's directed to kneel on a thick blanket in a corner of the office.
That's when they set a bowl of water on the floor.
He nearly snarls and has to resist the urge to knock it toward them. His arm is still tied behind him and to his waist anyway. Fucking bastards treating him like a damn dog!
But then the officer is smiling down at him and sitting at his desk. And he's wiggling the wooden stock at Bucky before putting it in a drawer of the desk.
Bucky's heart sinks as he thinks of the cage. Looks like he's here to stay for now.
He glowers at the floor, ignoring the chuckles. When the guards leave it's just him and the officer again.
Exhaustion seeps over him though he wishes he could get clean. He can feel cum beginning to trickle out of him and shudders. He can't remove the ribbon on his cock either, so he glares down at it.
The blanket's nice and warm at least. Looks like the inside is lined with some kind of fluffy sheepskin. He reluctantly lies on his right side and curls up. He can't really lie on his injured left stump and he doesn't want to lie on his back, so he risks putting his back to the officer.
He hears the man lighting up a cigarette and the sound of papers shuffling and begins to drift off.

* * *

Ding, fries are done! I hope you enjoyed the fill. I feel so accomplished now haha. I'll have to put it on my AO3 at some point along with a bunch of other fills. I'm magnumopustron on AO3; feel free to come find me.

I, personally, have no problem with this being a long fill. The last two parts especially were so good! Bucky getting hard and being ashamed of himself! Trying to keep Steve out of his thoughts and being unable to! "Creepy head Nazi," what a great internal monologue! Yes yes YES.

I'd feel bad for Bucky, I guess, but I'm too busy popping inappropriate boners in pubic.

(Obviously that was supposed to read "public" but it was too good of a typo to fix.)

YOU TURNED IT INTO PET PLAY HOLY FUCK I LOVE YOU

Uh, yeah, so whenever you put it on ao3 that's cool, I'll just, you know, download it and read it compulsively and leave you ONE BILLION KUDOS.

And what happens next is practically here now! :D

He had been screaming for a while. The water pouring down around him couldn't hide the screaming, but the screaming didn't matter.

They already knew. They already knew, and they had already done the worst they would do to him. If they wiped him now, froze him, if they killed him for the very last time, it would only mean he didn't have to know anymore.

And still he was hiding from the eyes watching him. He had his arms wrapped tight around his chest, water pouring down over him to wash away tears, wash away--

Blood?

But no, it wasn't blood. There had been no blood. He had snapped her neck, quick and clean.

The liquid rush between his body and hers had not been blood.

"Natalia," he screamed, and the tile echoed it back. "Natalia."

As though he could call her back. But she had been right there in his arms. Right there, cuddled against his chest, and his milk had let down for her, and--

He slammed his open right hand against the tile, but that didn't hurt enough. He tried to smash his face against it and was caught, held back from hurting himself by hands strong enough to actually restrain him.

He thought that this, like the screaming, had been happening for a while. He huddled in on himself again and the hands went away, leaving him in peace to clutch himself and scream for his little girl. It didn't matter anymore if anyone knew she was his, that he loved her better than all the others, that--

"I'm here, I'm here," she said, startling him into silence.

There were other hands, smaller hands but stronger than they should be, tugging at his arms. She was insistent, making a space for herself where she should always be, and he couldn't hold her out.

He opened his eyes and she really was there, looking up at him with wide green eyes in a pale china doll face, her red hair already wet and flattened to her head. She looked fearless, like always (but she had not been fearless, she had been shaking as he reached for her).

She looked sad, but it might just be the water already clinging to her eyelashes. He wanted nothing but to hold her, comfort her, feed her, but he knew now what he had done.

"Natalia," he whispered, hoarse and broken. "Natalia."

"I'm here," she repeated, pressing herself close and tugging his arms around her. He ached everywhere she touched him, but he held on tight. He could feel her warmth even with the hot water falling down all around them, her living strength.

"We're safe now," she said quietly. "We're here. We're safe. Remember?"

Bucky opened his eyes and looked. Steve was still crouched just outside the shower, his hair as wet as Natasha's, water dripping down his face. His hands were held up, open and ready to move. His blue eyes were very wide. Bucky blinked at him and then looked away, unable to think of what it meant, what he had seen.

"You're not," Bucky said softly. "You can't be. I killed you. They made me kill you."

Steve made a small, sharp motion in Bucky's peripheral vision, but Natasha only snuggled closer. Her fingers crept under the edge of his sodden shirt to write against his skin. Mamochka.

"Was it a dream or real?" Natasha asked. The question sounded practiced, like the catechism of a religion he hadn't been raised in.

"Real," he said softly. He remembered the smell of fresh death in his arms--the sweetness of milk and bitterness of urine both standing out in the sterile room. It was simple, linear, with no more horror than the events accounted for--less, in fact, because he had been very calm at the time. He only understood what he had done after.

Bucky, she wrote on his skin.

"Was it really me? Am I dead? Am I not your Natalia?"

His left hand was hidden from Steve, tucked against her side. He rucked up the bottom of her shirt with two fingers and began to trace Natashenka on wet skin.

"It was at the end of that year," Bucky said, piecing it together, trying to reconcile the memory and the woman tucked into his arms. "I was still--the way they made me for you."

Still lactating, his body not yet returned to its mission-hardness, his chest swollen and soft and full. After a year of maximized output, milk had defeated muscle, giving his pecs the unmistakable roundness of breasts.

Natasha nodded understanding against his shoulder.

"They wiped me." That part wasn't a memory so much as a void in memory whose shape he could deduce from everything else: the calm, the obedience, the total failure to understand what was happening and why.

He hadn't known, until tonight, that he had betrayed his Natalia, his Natashenka. He hadn't known that the axe had fallen, on him and on Natalia.

"They brought me a little girl with red hair and green eyes. The right height. They told me her name was Natalia, they told me that she was--" the words caught in his throat, the fatal words.

My favorite.

Natasha nestled tighter against him and her fingers moved over his skin, telling him who he was, which told him who she was. There had never been anyone else who named him that way.

"They told me to hold her," Bucky said.

But she had been scared of him like his Natalia never was. She had been stiff in his arms, and her hand had not slipped out to trace letters against his side. His milk had let down for her, wanting to feed her, but she had not nuzzled against him--no little mouth seeking his nipple, no little hand kneading his chest for more.

"Then they told me to kill her."

He had done it, quick and neat and quiet, overtaking her last spasm of fear. After her neck snapped her body had been limp against his, a horrible parody of trust.

Natasha rubbed her cheek against his chest, wet with water and leaking milk, then pulled back and looked him in the eyes and returned to the grim catechism.

"Was it really me? Am I dead? Am I not your Natalia?"

Bucky swallowed and shook his head, and answered each part of the ritual question. "Not you. You're here. My Natalia."

"You made me strong," Natasha said quietly. "I had more of you than any of them, and you made me the best of us. You made me too valuable for them to sacrifice just to punish you or test you. You saved my life."

Bucky shook his head, but he couldn't scream for her when he was holding her, when she was right here. He had killed her. He had killed her and here she was telling him he had saved her.

"You couldn't save that other Natalia," Natasha said softly. "But you saved me."

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head again, but Natasha pulled his head down so that she could whisper it in his ear. "You made me strong. You saved my life."

He let out a ragged noise that was almost her name, almost a scream, and then again and again. He was sobbing and clutching her tight. She shouldn't have to comfort him, but she kept one hand at the back of his neck and the other on his side, spelling out his names again and again while he could do nothing but hold on.

The bathroom door closed behind him.

Bucky hid his face against Natasha's hair and wailed no one's name until the water shut off, leaving nothing to soften the sound of him grieving. But Natasha's voice crept in under his, making soothing sounds as she pulled him out of the shower.

She pushed him through stripping out of his wet clothes, pulled every towel out of the cupboards to wrap around him and make a sort of nest on the floor. She got her own wet clothes off, too, wrapped up in more towels and settled herself against his chest.

Bucky's arms went around her by reflex, supporting her weight so she could relax. She nuzzled aimlessly against his chest--it must be the middle of the night, she must be tired. His milk let down one more time, beading white on his nipple before her mouth closed over it.

The first pull of her mouth made the world snap into focus. Bucky was aware of his entire body, from his feet tucked under the edge of a towel and braced against the tiled floor to his head, tipped back against the edge of the tub. The light over the sink was on, but not the light over the shower. There was no light showing under the closed door, no sound from outside.

Natasha's eyes were closed as she nursed from him, a sweep of dark lashes against her pale cheeks. Bucky ran his fingers through her wet hair, careful of tangles, and Natasha made a satisfied little sound and leaned more heavily into him, suckling in the sleepy rhythm of a nighttime feeding.

He let his own eyes close, keeping up the motion of his hand through her hair by touch. They were both wrapped up in towels, and he was warm where they were pressed together. The bathroom was quiet, small enough to feel secure with just the two of them closed inside.

He had made her strong. He had kept her safe. His Natalia. He remembered her among the crop of little girls learning to load rifles, and he remembered--

He remembered a different crop of little girls. No ache in his chest but anger, then. No favorites. The rifles had been ten--twenty--how many years older? Which rifles? How many times had they tried?

But it had always been the same. He had always been angry. He had never had a favorite.

He had meant to get them all out, every one.

Bucky opened his eyes and stared up at the plain white ceiling. Natasha nursed from him, steady but slow, a soothing, cozy rhythm, and he remembered this feeling.

Damp, naked, barely thawed, staring up at the plain white ceiling. There was a line feeding into his arm, pumping something new into his blood.

Prolactin. It's a naturally occurring hormone. Suppresses testosterone, curbs aggression, someone was saying. You need your attack dog to live in the house for a while--you want to keep him out of cryo without him going erratic--you pump him full of this. Promotes a sense of wellbeing, encourages bonding and prosocial behavior.

Is this going to turn the attack dog into a milk cow?

Well, if it does then you get milk, too, from a very special cow. Little girls drink milk, don't they? It'll make them strong.

Bucky looked down. His hand came to rest, cradling the back of Natasha's head.

He had never tried to rescue her. He had loved her. He had wanted nothing but to feed her, care for her, make her strong. He had wanted only to have her in his arms again, and for that he had gone willingly to the chair in the big open room, day after day, let himself be attached to the pumping machine. He had taught two dozen little girls to kill and never questioned his orders, because he was allowed to feed them and believe he could keep them safe.

They had known he would get attached, and they had given him one little girl to get attached to in particular. They had known he would focus on her, focus on keeping her safe, and never think about the big picture. They had given her to him to control him, and in the end, when they wanted their attack dog back, they had made him kill a little girl called Natalia to be sure that he would never again think he could stay in one place and take care of someone.

But after all these years, here he was again. His Natashenka in his arms, his team nearby. A safe place. People to care for.

His choice, this time. His and Natasha's. He combed his fingers through her hair and she drank from him in slow, steady pulls, turning the ache in his chest to warmth in her belly.

His body had remembered, even when he did not, how to give him this connection again. How to feel this again. How to live indoors and be gentle. How to make someone else strong, even if it meant becoming a little bit soft himself.

Even if it had to be secret, he wouldn't give this up. He had paid for this in blood. He wasn't going to waste it.

It was close to an hour later that Bucky stumbled drowsily into the bedroom. Natasha had put on the t-shirt he'd rinsed out earlier, which had dried before he woke up from his nightmare. Bucky hadn't bothered clutching a towel to himself once she turned her back. He crawled into bed naked, and scooted toward Steve, too warm and content to resist the urge to have someone in his arms.

"I can take the couch," Steve said in a wide-awake voice that startled Bucky into alertness.

"Nat's on the couch," Bucky said, because he didn't want to ask why Steve didn't want to sleep in the same bed, why he'd spoken before Bucky could even touch him. He didn't want to know.

There was a core of cold inside him, shattering the calm of that hour with Natasha. Steve had heard what he said, in the nightmare and after it. He hadn't slipped out of the bathroom until after Bucky talked about killing that other Natalia. He knew, and he didn't want to share a bed with Bucky now.

Steve made a little frustrated noise. "She could come in here. I'll sleep out there."

Bucky blinked and tried not to sound too much like he was begging. "Steve, it's not like--we're not--"

"I know," Steve said harshly. "Believe me, I know. But she's the one you needed tonight. I couldn't touch you, you didn't even know me."

Bucky stared at him for a moment. His eyes adjusted as he waited, showing him Steve's face in ever clearer detail, set in stubborn lines. Holding himself apart, holding on to his dignity. As if he were the one with something to lose, when he'd seen Bucky sobbing his guts out in the shower an hour ago. When he knew the worst thing Bucky had ever done.

"Steve," Bucky said slowly. "It was a nightmare. I wasn't even fully awake until after you left the room. But if I wanted to sleep with Natasha, her bed is a hundred yards away. We could have gone there."

Steve's tight posture softened by a few degrees, and Bucky scooted a couple of inches closer.

"Nat's on the couch because she wants to be close by if I have another nightmare. But I don't think I will, so I came back to bed where I belong. With you."

Steve's gaze searched his for a moment, softening further. His lips parted, and Bucky's heart beat faster, anticipating something big, something important.

But what Steve finally said was, "Turn the other way, you hate sleeping on your left side."

Bucky's lips twitched--of course that was all Steve would say. He rolled over obediently, putting his back to Steve and snuggling into his pillow. It was enough to have Steve in the same bed, it was--

He felt Steve moving closer a solid ten seconds before he actually made contact. Excruciatingly slowly, as though he constantly expected Bucky to bolt or push him away, Steve snuggled up to his back. He brushed a kiss against the nape of Bucky's neck, nuzzling through his nearly-dry hair to do it.

"Okay?" Steve murmured.

Bucky let out a long breath and sank back into the comfort of closeness, the drowsy warmth. He let himself sag back against Steve's body, molding to the angles and curves of him. Steve's arm settled over his waist, holding him close. Keeping him where they had both chosen to be.

"Okay," Bucky agreed. His own left arm curled protectively in front of his chest, but it was all right. His milk wouldn't come back in for hours yet. He could sleep as late as he wanted to here with Steve.

I really thought Steve was going to walk in on them nursing. The waiting! It hurts so good.

(OP) THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL. I loved the explanation, and the way she reassures him, and the pain of him having to kill a little Natalia--! And I can practically feel Steve angsting hard just offscreen! And at the same time, they're being so sweet and talking (kind of) and temporarily resolving the problem... I'm very happy right now :D

Inspired by this post: http://kehinki.tumblr.com/post/126792750396/but-its-rumlow-saying-your-bucky-rumlow-so

Bucky comes back, and he's mostly better. He has gaps in his memory, sure, but he's putting them together. The only problem is that he seems to think that he and Steve were an item back in the day – and the stuff he talks about is, frankly, kind of sleazy. It's making Steve uncomfortable. (He wouldn't mind getting together... but not like that!)

Basically, the Asset had to listen to Rumlow's insinuations/insults/elaborate no-homo-but-I-know-you-guys-were fantasies for long enough that it actually seeped into his subconscious and he started believing it.

+1 if Steve and Bucky weren't together but did (and still do) have hella UST
+1 we inadvertently learn way too much about Brock Rumlow's id. ("I bet Cap sucked cock like a champ and gave it up real easy, but that wasn't enough for you, was it? So you'd turn around and beg, beg for it –")
+1 Rumlow never touched or raped Bucky, but he did make him listen to him talking while he jerked off

oh gods, nonny, this is so good!! this fake!Sam perpetrator really has a master's in horribleness, using Sam's goodness and helpfulness for his own gains and manipulating Bucky's unreliable memory and still unstable mental state to get away with it. how deliciously awful for everyone involved. i can't wait for it to get even worse!! 8)

also, you write some really lovely descriptions! e.g. the way you described fake!Sam, the changing daylight and Bucky's loneliness and fear/insecurity. (i loved this part: All night, he sat in his crevice and stared at the shifting galaxies he created.)

yes yes yes

Good lord, this whole fill I just. Will be in my bunk. For a while. This is glorious, beautiful trash porn, and I thank you for it. *piles up several boxes of expired crackers filled with ants as a thank you present*

Ooh, what if they get him drunk with, like, increasingly strong alcohol enemas? you're supposed to water down champagne for normal humans, but what could he take with his serum? straight wine? vodka? spirits? how much would it take to actually shock his system and cause serious pain?

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 188 of 222

Dumpster #2: ...'Cause a Hydra Trash Party don't stop

WS/Hydra in a club, forced intoxication

Establishing dominance

Re: rapists are everywhere!

Re: Establishing dominance

Re: Fill: Drink Me, 4/?

Re: rapists are everywhere!

Re: FILL: The Only Animal (7c/8)

Re: Steve vs. German Official

[Fill, Part Five]

[Fill, Part Six]

Re: WS/Hydra in a club, forced intoxication

[Fill, Part Seven]

Re: [Fill, Part Six]

Re: [Fill, Part Seven]

Re: Fill: Drink Me, 4/?

Re: Fill: Drink Me, 4/?

Drink Me, 5a/?

Fill: Drink Me, 5b/?

Re: Fill: Drink Me, 5b/?

Re: Fill: Drink Me, 5b/?

"Your Bucky" ensuing trash

Re: FILL: The Hands On My Skin Don't Belong To You (4/?)

Re: "Your Bucky" ensuing trash

Re: [Fill, Part Seven]

Re: WS/Hydra in a club, forced intoxication