hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

OP

o m f g

Such beautiful imminent trash, so quickly! With stun batons! And a Bucky who is simultaneously dangerous, competent, and trying to hide that he's scared shitless. Marry me, author!anon.

It would make it on-topic for the HTP, at least. :)

yes yes yes amazing start!

This is just my kind of trash. You communicate so much personality (Bucky baring his teeth!) and backstory (Bucky's flinch when he sees Rumlow!) through these beautiful little character moments. It all feels very convincing and real, and I'm looking forward to where it goes next.

Soldier

It had failed in its mission when it had chosen to jump into the water. Before that, it had failed, when it had been unwilling to fight, when it had answered back, when it had felt a flicker of memory that Hydra had been so careful to take away. It had let down Hydra after everything that they had done, and now it had to suffer the punishment.

This was bad. It wanted to scream, but it wasn't meant to scream when it was punished - normally the punishments weren't so bad. A little electricity to teach it to focus. A beating. Being locked in restraints and left in the cold. That was so it could be properly grateful for its rewards, and it was thankful for its punishments. It was thankful for everything Hydra gave it, but the blond had twisted everything.

For a moment, it had forgotten to be grateful. It had forgotten how much Hydra had given it, how they would reward it with their bodies even when it was broken and bleeding, even when it needed bones popped back into place or gunshot wounds stitched. How they would give it an IV so that it didn't starve, and how they would hose it down with cold water. Best of all, how they would let it sleep in the ice, where nightmares couldn't touch it. It had so many reasons to be grateful for Hydra.

And it had forgotten them all.

This punishment was worse than anything it could ever have imagined, but it was deserved for being disobedient, worse, for being ungrateful. The Secretary had taught it long ago how to be properly grateful, how to bow its head and say thank you for every strike of a cane or whip, for every man it was permitted to service, for every boot it was told to lick clean.

So this punishment was for not being grateful. A chance to learn how much Hydra had done for it, what life was like without them. If it was good enough, remorseful enough, desperate enough, it might be taken back. Not with normal rewards, it knew that. But forgiveness. It would be better to be of some use to Hydra, a footrest perhaps, or if it was good maybe it could keep one of the officers' cocks warm in its throat, maybe even get the reward of their urine so that it got liquid rather than just the IV. It would be grateful, forever, if it got another chance.

But first it had to live through its punishment. It had been pushed close to death before by gentler punishments than this, and it was scared in case it didn't get back. But to be handed over to these monsters, these sources of evil... the threat alone would have ensured it didn't ever forget to show true gratitude. This was just a sign of how displeased the secretary was. All of the enemy were watching it.

It started to categorise how many ways they could kill it. Arrows and electricity and tearing it limb from limb. Its pulse was racing, and it wanted to beg. It wasn't meant to, was meant to be quiet, but sheer terror overwhelmed it, making its insides twist. If it had been given an IV in the last few days, it would probably have thrown up. As it was, it backed away.
"Please..." It whispered. "No..."

A hand fell on its shoulder, and it looked up into the eyes of the man it had dragged from the water. He was smiling.
"Hey Buck..." There was a pause, and it wondered what it was meant to say. Was it meant to go along with what they wanted, or to fight? If it knew that at least, it might be able to earn an end to its punishment.

"Easy..." The hand on its shoulder rubbed slight circles, an action that often meant it would be due a reward, but this time it didn't think one would be forthcoming. It was still dressed, and punishment like this wouldn't bring any kind of reward. It was here to relearn its place, as an object, as property ever grateful for all the kindness Hydra had shown. And that meant that now, it had to prove it could serve as a possession, even to these monsters.

Its insides boiling with fear, it bowed its head, and took a step forwards, and another, walking with the Avengers flanking it on every side. In the vehicle it was neither instructed to kneel - it had not performed well enough for a reward - nor chained down, but was forced to sit still, and sway with the movement of the vehicle, their discussion aimed at it so it couldn't even retreat inside its own head.

:DDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Steve is... definitely not going to be as pleased as Bucky thinks he will be. :D

THIS IS WHY YOU DON'T DO HEAVY KINK WITH RANDOS FROM CRAIGLIST, GUYS.

Thank you!! Steve is... not going to react quite how Bucky is thinking he will, ODDLY ENOUGH.

oh god I love what you're doing with the rewards and the gratitude and how WS sees everything that he's not used to as punishment. UNF

Thank you! It is sad and terrible for EVERYONE. :D

Thank you! Almost done now! :D

Thank you!

HE SAID RED WHEN HE WANTED TO STOP THAT'S TOTALLY HOW IT WORKS!???

He retraces his earlier route most of the way home, and stops at each of the cafes he'd noted before for their interesting smells. The first he just stands in, reading the menu and the bulletin board for a while, but they don't offer any carryout food. The second one does, and also has a unisex bathroom. He asks apologetically for the key and locks himself in the little room, stripping out of his pants and underwear to get rid of the bloodstained gauze.

The bleeding has stopped already; he probes carefully at his ass, flexing the muscles of his hole as he touches the knotted stitches. The flesh is already tightening up well. There's a deep, healing ache, but nothing worse.

He doesn't have a good small blade handy, so he leaves the stitches for now, just washes up thoroughly to make sure he's not carrying any smell of blood or antiseptic. He washes his hands thoroughly, dresses again, and goes back out into the café to buy a couple of coffees and the most interesting-smelling baked goods they've got.

When he gets home, Steve's eyes light up. They always do that at the sight of Bucky, but his strategic purchases divert Steve's attention--and sense of smell--so that he doesn't notice anything strange.

Almost doesn't, anyway.

"What's this?" Steve reaches for Bucky's ass, and for a second Bucky wants to flinch away--don't touch, not there--and fears Steve's spotted blood he missed, but Steve only tugs something out of his pocket.

The red lollipop.

Bucky smiles smoothly. "Oh, I was walking around and some guy gave that to me."

Steve snorts, shaking his head. He sets it aside, well away from the artisanal baked goods and paper cups of single-source organic coffee. "Shouldn't take candy from strangers, Buck."

"Well, I didn't eat it," Bucky points out, feinting toward the lemon lavender scone. They wind up arm-wrestling for it, but after Bucky wins he lets Steve have half anyway, in exchange for a kiss with each bite.

***

He plucks out the suture thread that night before bed, using a hand mirror and some tiny manicure scissors to make sure he's removed every little piece. He's all healed now, drum-tight, his hole looking all pink and new like nothing's ever been inside him at all. There are brighter pink spots where he's just pulled the stitches out, so it's just as well Steve insisted on taking tonight off. By tomorrow night even that evidence will be gone.

And if Steve forgets that he said they wouldn't fuck tonight...

For a second Bucky only remembers the sloppy sound of the technician's cock battering into his open hole, the way it thudded inside him while he waited for it to be over, the cold table under him and the scent of disinfectant.

There's a tap at the door, and Steve says, "Buck? You get lost in there?"

"Right here, Steve," Bucky calls back, covering the sound as he puts the hand mirror away, then the tiny scissors. "Cool your jets, I'll be out in a minute."

He washes his hands and doesn't think of how often Steve has asked him that question since he came home, always in that carefully teasing tone, as if he didn't believe that Bucky could get lost inside himself in any room of their apartment. He gets lost all the time, but he always finds his way back to Steve.

It only takes him a second to track Steve down tonight. He's in bed, wearing soft pajama pants but no shirt. There are pajama pants laid out for Bucky--the plain gray ones that Steve must have owned since the day he was thawed. They're more or less translucent, and actually wearing through at the crotch because neither he nor Steve can figure out how to patch the knit jersey. They tend to fight over who gets to wear them, but that's usually something that happens when they're getting out of bed, not into it.

Steve evidently remembers what he said about not fucking tonight. Despite the lingering ache and the tender tightness of his hole--despite the danger of Steve recognizing exactly what he did to solve his problem and disapproving--Bucky suddenly wants to protest. He wants Steve tonight, wants sex, wants to be close to Steve with nothing between them but a few secrets. He wants to feel good, and he wants to forget everything else.

"Come on, put 'em on," Steve coaxes, smiling. "You don't have to sleep in them if you don't want to, I just want to try something first."

Bucky rolls his eyes but puts on the pajama pants and joins Steve in the bed, letting Steve tug him closer and closer until he's on Steve, his hips cradled between Steve's thighs. The position feels dangerously strange--he doesn't do this. They don't do this this way.

On the heels of that shiver of fear is the realization that nobody can tell them what the fuck to do in bed--if Steve wants it like this, this is how they'll do it. Bucky's ass clenches instinctively, protectively. He'll be careful not to hurt Steve, he'll be so gentle and go so slow...

"C'mere." Steve is coaxing again, but Bucky can't really get any closer without somebody taking off their pants.

Steve draws him down into a kiss, though, instead of going for anything obvious. He rubs up against Bucky as their mouths meet, and all at once Bucky gets the idea. They never fooled around when they were kids, never started anything until they knew exactly how to finish it. Neither of them was ever a good girl, needing to edge up to sex through heavy petting. It was maybe twenty minutes from the first time they kissed until Bucky had Steve's cock in his ass, and they never looked back.

What Steve's asking for now is kid stuff, kissing and rubbing on each other through the soft layers of their pajama pants, but it's new for them. Something no one can spoil, something with no other associations. Of all the ways HYDRA used him, this one never occurred to any of them. Bucky tries to picture it and laughs a little against Steve's mouth.

Steve lets his head fall back and grins, wide and pleased; Bucky will have to make up something sweet to tell him if he asks what Bucky's laughing about, so he doesn't spoil that grin. Steve's hips roll up into Bucky's, shoving his cock against Bucky through two layers of cloth, and Bucky knows Steve's content not to get any closer to Bucky's ass than this tonight.

"You like this?" Steve asks, running a hand from Bucky's collarbone down over his chest, petting and stroking along the way.

"I think we could've done it without getting our pants dirty," Bucky says, but he's still rocking his hips into Steve's, his cock hardening, and he knows it would have been different without them. It would have seemed like this was going where it always went--and if Steve tried to tell him they didn't have to fuck he would have argued. But Steve asked to try something, and now here they are.

Bucky kisses him again on his smugly smiling mouth--Steve's not bothering to argue with him about the pants, probably because Bucky's showing no intention of taking them off--and then lower, down his throat to where the pink flush spreads on his chest. It shifts him lower between Steve's legs, so he's rubbing his cock against Steve's ass, Steve's cock grinding up against his belly. Steve doesn't seem to mind, especially when Bucky's licking and nibbling at his nipples, taking advantage of all the skin Steve left bare.

Steve gets wound up pretty easily, and Bucky isn't far behind; the firmness of Steve's ass behind the pajama pants feels like heaven on his cock, and when he slides back up to kiss Steve's mouth again, Steve is almost frantic. His kisses are rough and hungry, but his hands still stay above the waist. Bucky rubs his cock against Steve's, his hips rocking with a mind of their own. He can only smell Steve, only feel Steve, and there's no chance he can imagine he's anywhere but right here, in Steve's arms, in their bed, wearing soft pants and reinventing first base with his best guy.

He comes with a little choked off sound against Steve's mouth, spilling inside the soft pants, and he feels the answering jerk of Steve's cock a moment later. The heat and wetness of jizz takes a second to soak through, and by then Bucky's gone limp on top of him.

"You wanna take 'em off?" Steve mumbles, but he's already flapping his hand at the lamp; it responds to emphatic gesturing and turns off, leaving them in a drowsy heap in a dark room.

"Sure," Bucky agrees. "Just let me shut my eyes a second first."

The next night everything goes back to normal: they end up in bed, naked, with Bucky eagerly anticipating a proper fuck. This might be his first ever really good fuck with Steve, for Steve.

He's checked carefully throughout the day, taking the necessary precautions to be sure he's clean inside. There is no trace left of the sutures, and he's too tight to even shit properly. He will give an excellent fuck. Steve will be pleased with his tightness, and if Bucky has to go back and get stitched up again after Steve breaks him open and loosens him up, it will be worth it to be good for him.

Except that, in a weird replay of the other night, Steve frowns and draws back after touching just a finger to Bucky's hole.

"Buck, if you'd rather do something else--"

Bucky actually laughs, the sound coming out a little wild. "What? No, Steve, come on, this is all I want. You already made me wait a whole extra day."

Steve still hesitates, and Bucky reaches down between his own legs, pressing against his hole to verify that it's as tight and clean and perfect now as the last time he checked. There's the faintest layer of slick from Steve's touch, but nothing else; he's like new, perfect, just waiting to be opened up.

Steve still looks dubious, but he brings his finger back down to Bucky's hole, circling the pucker and just barely pressing against it. "Buck, you might want to, but I don't know if I can, you're so tight. We gotta get you relaxed or I'm not gonna fit."

Bucky snorts. "Course you'll fit, Stevie. Don't you wanna feel how tight I am on your cock? It'll be like you were my first."

Steve looks him in the eye at that, searching for something, and Bucky looks back steadily. He knows he's right. He knows he's made himself good, finally. Steve doesn't want to hurt him, but--

Something in his brain twists sideways, or maybe untwists for the first time in days.

"I wish I had been," Steve says softly. "If it meant your first time was as good as I could make it, or nobody ever hurt you. I don't wanna hurt you, Buck."

"I know," Bucky says, but his own voice sounds far away.

He does know that; he's always known that. Steve doesn't want to hurt him. The first time they fucked, Steve went so slow, stretched him open so carefully, because he knew Bucky had been hurt before. Steve didn't want it to hurt. He doesn't ever want it to hurt, and it never has. Not once. Not with Steve.

"But if you were my first nobody would've had me before," Bucky says, still lost somewhere far from where the words are coming out. "You wouldn't have to be taking sloppy seconds from half of HYDRA."

Steve's expression hardens into a scowl and something in Bucky's gut twists. He feels himself go a little bit limp, knowing that he'll do it now, force his way inside--angry, claiming ownership of his property.

"I don't care who's fucked you or hurt you," Steve says, and then hastily adds, "I mean, I care that we make sure they're dead or wish they were, but that's not on you. That could never make me want you less. You know that, Buck, you know that doesn't matter to me. You're my best guy, always, doesn't matter what happened before."

Steve's finger is still just barely touching Bucky's hole, not pressing for entry. Steve is being patient; Steve has always been patient. Way back before they started, Steve told him they never had to fuck at all if Bucky didn't want to, because Steve knows what happened, and Steve doesn't want to hurt him.

Something isn't adding up, and Bucky's pretty sure he knows who's been introducing errors.

Still, he has to ask.

"But what if--what if you could tell," Bucky tries. "What if I wasn't tight enough for you, what if they fucked me so much, so many of them--what if I was just wrecked, all broken open and loose so you could hardly even feel me on your cock? Then you wouldn't want to fuck me. It wouldn't be any good."

He sees a defiant heat in Steve's eyes, more like Steve about to wade into a fight than Steve wanting him, except apparently it's both. Steve kisses him, moving to cover Bucky's body with his, and circles the tightness of Bucky's hole with his finger again. Bucky feels himself relax a fraction, automatically, letting the tip of Steve's finger fit inside. Even that much stretch hurts a little now, but at least he's not clenched so tight that it's impossible.

"I love you," Steve murmurs against his mouth, sounding fierce with it, like he's planting a flag when he's barely touching Bucky at all. "And nothing they did to your body can change that. If you were all loose and open like that I could slide right inside you and never hurt you, and if you liked fucking that way I'd like it too."

Bucky shakes his head a little, although Steve never lies to him. "What if it just happened, what if you could still smell them on me, and I was still wet and loose from them fucking me, what if I was still dripping--"

Steve pulls his finger away and Bucky whines, but Steve kisses him again before shifting around to grab the lube, apparently inspired to get things even wetter. Bucky feels himself open a little more in anticipation, instinctively preparing for the intrusion, and this time Steve's finger slides in to the second knuckle. Bucky is still tight around even that small penetration, but Steve is inside him now, making sloppy little sounds as he presses lube into Bucky's hole.

"You'd still be mine," Steve murmurs, kissing his temple, his cheek, his jaw. "Even if I walked in and found you still on the table--"

Bucky's breath catches, thinking of the cold steel table under him just yesterday, and Steve's finger pauses. Bucky claims his mouth in a hard kiss, then demands, "Tell me. Tell me what you'd do if you found me on the table, freshly fucked. You wouldn't touch me until you'd hosed me down to get rid of them, would you?"

"I'd make sure they were dead," Steve insists. His finger pushes more easily into Bucky now, sliding in and out, and Bucky can feel Steve's cock pressing against his thigh. "I'd get rid of them, I'd kill anyone who hurt you if you hadn't already killed them yourself--"

Bucky remembers thinking about it the day before, thinking that he could kill the civilian pervert who--who fucked him the way HYDRA techs used to fuck him. Used to rape him. Used to hurt him for their own pleasure, for their own entertainment.

"But if you wanted me like that, you could have me, Buck. It wouldn't make any difference to me. Even if their come was still dripping out of you, if you told me you wanted me to fuck you--"

"Fuck me," Bucky gasps, needing it, needing to know, to feel the truth pressed into his body, "Steve, please, please--"

His body remembers how to make it hurt the least, and is relaxing a little more with every thrust of Steve's finger. He's not scared of Steve now, not scared of everything to do with this the way he was at first, when it took Steve what seemed like hours to prepare him. He's easing up now, his hole relaxing and softening around Steve's finger, letting him move easily.

"I'd have to make sure I wasn't hurting you," Steve murmurs, brushing another kiss across Bucky's mouth before he moves down the bed, pushing Bucky's thighs apart to make room between them.

Bucky remembers the pervert pushing his thighs open as he lay on the table--remembers countless HYDRA techs repositioning his body for their own convenience--but none of them ever looked at him the way Steve looks. None of them ever touched him the way Steve touches him, warm and wanting, only rough because of the way eagerness makes Steve clumsy sometimes. When Steve pauses to look between his legs, watching his own finger sliding into Bucky's hole, it's nothing like anyone else's eyes on him.

"Let me just make sure, Buck." Steve leans in to press his tongue alongside his finger.

Bucky's head goes back, his eyes closing as he moans, because he remembers this sweet, soft torture from the first time with Steve.

"Stevie," Bucky gasps, "Fuck, fuck--" he reaches down to tug at Steve's hair, but Steve just keeps licking, sucking softly at his rim and coaxing him to soften further, undoing all his effort, as if he never went anywhere yesterday. As if no one touched him yesterday, or ever before. As if he's only Steve's, and being fucked can never hurt, because Steve only wants him to feel good.

Steve doesn't want to hurt him. Steve never wants to hurt him. Steve doesn't care if he's tight or loose, filthy or clean, as long as he isn't hurting.

"Please," Bucky manages. "Steve, fuck me, tell me, tell me you will, do it--"

"Am I gonna hurt you?" Steve's breath is warm and soft against his hole, and Steve slides two fingers inside him now, barely having to push at all.

Bucky shakes his head hard. "S'good, Stevie, just, just tell me--"

He doesn't even remember what he needs Steve to tell him anymore, but he knows there's something. He knows it's important. He needs to know, to remember. He thinks he forgot something, the last couple of days, and he thinks it was a bad thing to forget.

Steve's fingers slip free of him and Steve moves again, sliding back up over Bucky until his cock is pressing against Bucky's hole.

"I always want you, Buck," Steve says, one hand on Bucky's face to keep him meeting Steve's eyes. "I don't care what HYDRA did to you, I don't care if you don't feel like a damn virgin on my cock, I wouldn't care if you were still dripping come from a whole platoon. If you told me you wanted me to fuck you, if I wasn't going to hurt you--"

"You won't, please, please--" Bucky squirms, tilting his hips up and pushing himself onto Steve's cock. Steve's breath catches as the head of his cock pops inside, and Bucky's does too. He's tight around it for a moment, and then he adjusts to the stretch and it's easy. It's Steve. "Tell me, tell me--"

"I'd climb right up onto that table with you," Steve tells him, his breath warm on Bucky's ear.

Bucky can almost feel it, the cold of the table under him, the heat of Steve covering him, thawing him out. And Steve's cock sliding deeper into him, filling him up where he's been empty, fitting where no one else has ever belonged.

"And I'd love you," Steve goes on. "And if you wanted to fuck I'd fuck you, I'd fuck you until you couldn't feel anything but me inside you. I'd make you feel so good, so fucking good--"

Steve's hand is on Bucky's cock. He's hard, and Steve is hard inside him, fucking him slow and sweet and deep, giving him what he needs. What no one else ever could.

"I wouldn't care, Buck," Steve repeats, and Bucky can hear the slick sound of Steve's cock in his ass, his own body soft and welcoming for Steve, drawing him inside. "I don't care. I only want you, however I find you. I just want it to be good for you, I just--"

Steve hits him just right then, the rub of his cock inside combining perfectly with Steve's grip on his cock. Bucky's breath is almost a sob as he comes. His hole tightens around Steve as the waves of pleasure crash through him, and if it hurts a little it only reminds him of how it never hurts any other way with Steve. Steve never wants to hurt him.

Steve keeps still until Bucky goes limp and soft under him.

"Go on, pal," Bucky murmurs lazily. "Wanna be good for you too."

Steve breathes out a shaky laugh against Bucky's mouth. "Never felt anything better, Buck. Never could." He's moving again, thrusting faster now. "God--God, what you do to me, Buck."

Bucky reaches up to run his fingers through Steve's hair, murmuring nonsense to him and kissing his sweaty face until Steve goes still again above him. Bucky can feel the throbbing of his cock as he comes, listens to Steve's shuddering breath until Steve tilts his head and finds Bucky's mouth for a proper kiss.

They lie together in silence, and everything seems very calm and clear to Bucky, a puzzle finally fitting together. It's not like it was a difficult puzzle, even, but he still spent all day yesterday trying to jam a square peg into a round hole--so to fucking speak--because some sick fucks spent an awfully long time teaching him to call a square a circle.

"That's why you didn't want to," Bucky mumbles. He oughta leave it alone, or eventually Steve's gonna wonder what he got up to yesterday, and Steve doesn't ever need to know that. Bucky just needs to hear it one more time. "The other night. You didn't want to hurt me."

"I never want you hurting because of me," Steve agrees, kissing him again before he rearranges them to the positions they like for sleep. "Never."

"Yeah," Bucky murmurs back, snuggling into him. "Yeah, I know."

He does know. He just has to make sure to remember next time. He should probably write it down somewhere, just in case.

So the big new Thing is the Veggetti (http://buyveggetti.com/), the amazing spiral vegetable slicer that can instantly turn zucchini, carrots, squash, potatoes, and more into delicious and healthy vegetarian pasta!!!

I think we all know where I'm going with this.

The Hydra strike team, amused by the new thing in healthy hip eating, decide to try it out on everyone's favorite root vegetable-shaped item..........the Asset's dick. Anything inspired by this idea works for me. Just run with it.

OP HERE

HAVEN'T EVEN READ IT YET
WILL SOON, JUST TELLING YOU I LOVE YOU ALREADY

This is a trash masterpiece.

there is something wrong with you but that's why we're all here

This is....everything I didn't know I wanted. Please someone fill this

OH MAN OH MAN THIS IS AMAZING

-you have Bucky thinking of himself as "it," which fuCKS ME UP
-he's not kneeling because he hasn't performed well enough??? babY???
-he's GRATEFUL to hydra and it's all so twisted up and horrible and he's so scared and has no way to understand kind actions and you're killing me
-everyone is being gentle and trying to talk to him and bucky just wants to hide inside his head poor baby
-urine. drinking. and he's grateful. ooookay. okay. ok. *fans self*

It’s not the worst pain he’s ever experienced, not by a long shot, but by the time Rumlow lets up he’s still clenching his teeth to keep the scream behind them. He’s not used to this anymore. It’s been too long since he was a Hydra punching bag; he’s gotten soft, too used to being treated like a person. Too used to Steve’s gentle hands and easy smile, the way he talks to Bucky like he matters, like he’s not a mangled shadow of the man who fell off a train seventy years ago. He draws in a ragged breath through his nose and holds it for a three-count, willing his pounding heart to steady.

Rumlow is chuckling softly under his breath. He palms himself with his free hand, and Bucky doesn’t have to look down to know that he’s getting hard. Something about beating on people who can’t fight back always did it for him, which Bucky remembers in full Technicolor detail and a lot more clarity than he’d like.

It’s not something he ever wanted Steve to see. Not something he ever wanted Steve to know about, for that matter. Steve’s not a kid and they survived a war together— they’ve survived so much together— but there’s some shit that nobody needs in their head.

The baton powers up again.

“Stop it,” Steve is saying, and he doesn’t sound afraid at all, just furious. “Stop.”

“You don’t give the orders here anymore, Cap.”

This time, Bucky’s almost ready for it. Rumlow is aiming for his groin, but he manages to twist at the last second so that the shock hits him in the meat of his thigh, through the thick canvas pants he’s still wearing. Still hurts like hell; his breath harsh in the back of his throat and the manacle cutting into his wrist.

“If you want to beat on somebody, I’m right here, you chickenshit asshole,” Steve yells, and this time there’s something desperate and cracking in his voice, and no, no, the dumb sonuvabitch couldn’t just keep his mouth shut—

Rumlow lets off, grinning. “All you had to do was ask.”

“Steve,” Bucky says. The stun baton cracks hard across his jaw. Rumlow isn’t even looking at him. He’s staring at Steve, and there’s something dark and avaricious in his face.

“Tell you what,” he says. “Since I’m in a generous mood right now, I’m gonna give you a choice. You can watch your boy-toy here take it like the bitch we both know he is. Or.” He grins horribly. “You can take his place, and we can see how good that supersoldier healing really is. It’s up to you.”

Steve’s chin is up and his eyes are blazing. “I told you, you want to hit somebody, you can hit me. Leave him alone.”

“Steve, don’t—” Bucky starts. Rumlow hits him again, and he tastes blood.

“I was really hoping you’d say that.” He turns to the guards flanking Steve. “Cut him loose.”

“Sir—”

“Cut him loose, and keep a gun on the Asset. He’s not gonna do anything stupid, are you, Cap?”

Doing stupid things is Steve’s stock in trade, but Bucky can feel the hard press of an AR-15 muzzle at his temple, and Steve looks at him for a long moment before letting out a shuddering breath. “I’m not going to fight you, Rumlow. Just don’t hurt him.”

“Believe me, Cap, he ain’t the one I want to hurt.”

“I bet,” mutters Steve under his breath. The guards are quaking visibly as they unlock the cuffs on Steve’s wrists, and after that’s done they leap back so fast that it would be like a slapstick routine in any other circumstances at all. True to his word, Steve doesn’t even try to fight. He sucks in a pained breath as his arms drop, rolls his shoulders—they have to be in agony after supporting his full weight for however long he was unconscious—glances at Bucky again, then lifts his chin and glares as Rumlow approaches him.

Rumlow doesn’t hit him right away. He circles Steve instead, head cocked, still grinning. Touches his shoulder, just briefly, then his cheek, trailing his fingers over the curve of his jaw, pressing on his lower lip like he’s searching for the shape of the teeth beneath it. Steve doesn’t move, but he’s tracking Rumlow with his eyes, and his expression of dawning confusion makes Bucky’s gut clench.

Steve has no fucking clue what he just volunteered himself for.

“Steve,” he says. His voice sounds thick and strangled and he’s straining against the cuffs like that might actually make a difference. Steve doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand. “Please don’t—”

Rumlow jerks his chin at the guards, and one of them slams the butt of his rifle into Bucky’s stomach with punishing force. He folds around it, gasping. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see a blur of motion, and when he manages to lift his head again Steve has Rumlow pinned up against the wall with one hand, the other drawing back in a fist.

Rumlow is as fast as a striking snake though, and he still has the stun baton in his hand. The shock hits Steve in the gut, knocking him back, and Rumlow is stepping forward, drawing his sidearm, aiming and firing in one smooth motion—

—pain explodes through Bucky’s good shoulder, and he cries out involuntarily.

“Bucky!”

“Stand down, Cap.” Rumlow sounds winded, but still pretty fucking amused. He’s still holding the gun on Bucky, and so is every other guard in the room. “Unless you wanna see your boyfriend’s insides become his outsides.”

Steve freezes. His face is as white as a sheet.

“I’m okay,” Bucky gasps. It’s true, at least for a certain value of ‘okay’. He knows—

(specifications, physical endurance, healing capacity, can rattle them off for a new handler if need be)

—he knows his body. His collar bone is shattered; it hurts like hell and it won’t heal quickly, but it’s not going to kill him. The bullet was a through-and-through, didn’t nick anything vital.

“Relax,” Rumlow adds, holstering his gun. “I know what I’m doing. I’m a good shot, you ought to know that. If I wanted him dead, he’d be dead.”

“You bastard,” Steve breathes.

“Sticks and stones. You gonna play nice?”

Steve’s jaw is clenched, but he nods tightly.

Rumlow grins, slapping the stun baton against his hand. “Good. Get down on your knees.”

That's a perfect trash. Poor Bucky!

Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Re: FILL: Count My Sins 1/?

Re: Sabretooth/Anyone, consensual temporary snuff

Re: FILL: Count My Sins 1/?

Re: FILL: Count My Sins 1/?

Fill: Reflections (1/?)

Re: FILL: Til I Wanted to Change, 4/5

Re: FILL: Til I Wanted to Change, 4/5

Re: FILL: Til I Wanted to Change, 4/5

Re: Fill: Reflections (1/?)

Re: FILL: Til I Wanted to Change, 4/5

Re: FILL: Til I Wanted to Change, 4/5

Re: FILL: Til I Wanted to Change, 4/5

Re: FILL: Til I Wanted to Change, 4/5

Re: FILL: Til I Wanted to Change, 4/5

FILL: Til I Wanted to Change, 5a/5

FILL: Til I Wanted to Change, 5b/5 (FINISHED!)

FILL: Til I Wanted to Change, 5b/5 (FINISHED! and now in the right spot in the thread!)

Bucky/any Hydra, Veggetti, crack

Re: Fill: Reflections (1/?)

Re: FILL: Til I Wanted to Change, 5b/5 (FINISHED! and now in the right spot in the thread!)

Re: Bucky/any Hydra, Veggetti, crack

Re: [Breeding Machine] Hydra x Fem!WS

OP

FILL: Count My Sins 2/?

Re: Fill: Reflections (1/?)