hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Holy shitballs, look at us go. Welcome to Captain America fandom's resident wretched hive of scum and villainy: ROUND THREE. AKA Bad Guys Do Dirtybadwrong Things To Your Faves, 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.

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Round 3 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 4.

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i completely echo this sentiment.

a!a, you are ruthless in the best of ways.

Stark flew them to South Dakota. The plane had tiny private cabins; Sam retreated to one before they even took off. Truth be told, he hated flying in a plane, and he needed some time alone.

That plan went pretty well for about fifteen minutes before someone tapped on the door. He yanked it open hard enough to almost override the friction stops to find Natasha standing outside. "Can I come in?"

"Can I stop you?"

"Yes," she said with a shrug.

Sam sighed. "Then yeah, you can come in." The cabin was just big enough for a bed and a chair; he turned and sat back down on the former. Natasha shut the door behind her and sat in the chair, her legs curled neatly under her like a cat. She looked like a graduate student in her jeans and short jacket. The arrow necklace glinted at her throat.

"So?" he asked.

"I thought you might appreciate it if someone else was camp counselor for a little while," she said. "This is the best chance we're likely to get."

"Camp counselor?"

"You spend a lot of time keeping people on task, managing them," she said. "That's not a bad thing--in fact it's very useful, especially on an op like this, where we're personally involved. If we let our emotions take over, someone's going to screw something up, and it'll probably be fatal." She tilted her head and made an airy gesture. "But it's not easy to maintain without a break."

"So you thought you'd offer to let me cry on your shoulder."

She smiled. "I thought you might try to punch me, actually."

Sam huffed and said, "Woman, do I look stupid to you?" The smile twisted into a smirk.

They sat in silence for a few seconds, listening to the hum of the engines.

"It makes me sick," Sam said finally. "And not just...I mean, I like Steve. I followed him into a damn crazy scheme because it needed to be done, because he said it was the right thing to do, but it's not just that he's Captain America, you know? It's not just that he's a good guy. The thought of Hydra turning that snarky bastard into something like Barnes, it makes me sick."

"But that's not all, is it?"

"I'm supposed to say Gabe Jones was my favorite Howling Commando," Sam said, letting the words fall into the quiet. "And don't get me wrong, brother was awesome. And everyone respected the Captain. But Bucky Barnes was the one I wanted to be. He was the one who always had Cap's back." Natasha nodded. "Even if he comes out of this alive, I don't see how he'll ever be okay again. And I am saying this in my professional capacity, Natasha: I don't even know where to start. He told me he'll kill Steve to keep him from ending up like him. What do I do with that? Seventy years. Seventy years. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? I'm just a guy who jumps out of perfectly good airplanes." He knuckled his eyes, but he knew she'd seen the tears. "I don't think there's any way to come back from that, and if he can't..."

"Before I went to work for SHIELD I did a lot of things that can't be forgiven," Natasha said. "I came back from that, because someone made me want to. Barnes wants to."

"I don't know if wanting to's enough," Sam said, hearing despair in his own voice.

"His chances are better with you than without you," said Natasha.

*

They suited up well out of range of the place, an industrial park that had seen better days in the suburbs outside of Sioux Falls. Stark presented Sam with a backpack, with the admonition that it wasn't "the awesome one", just a replica of the old one "so don't get used to it." The Iron Man suit was even cooler in real life than on TV, which Sam wouldn't have believed possible.

Half a mile out, Stark's voice came over the coms. "So I don't want to alarm you guys," he said, in an offhand way that didn't hide concern, "but either someone in there has jamming good enough to jam me without me being able to tell." He took a deep breath. "Or there's no one there."

*

Barnes stood next to the computer on the rolling table with an expression on his face that Sam would call 'glaring' if he didn't know that was what the guy looked like pretty much all the time. "The chair was there," he said, with a flick of a gesture at the bolt-holes in the floor. "Steve was here." Without warning he hauled back his metal fist and punched it through the monitor.

[oops it got a smidge too long, so I had to divide it. This is now the non-trash part]

-------
It's been a long day, and Steve was glad to be back at his apartment for once -- he'd spent the last two days at Sam's, deciphering the folder that Nat had left him. There weren't many pages, but each page contained new horrors of either what they did to Bucky, or what they made Bucky do to other people. By 10pm though, Sam'd looked at him and told him to go home, take a break. "You need the weekend to process everything, and so do I. See you for our usual run on Monday?"

So Steve wasn't quite ready when he turned on his lights to find Bucky sitting at the kitchen table.

"You are Steve Rogers." Bucky stood up neatly. Body stiff and at attention.

"Yes." Steve was wary. Bucky'd pulled him out of the river, but he was clearly still the Winter Soldier. And frankly he was too tired from... well, everything.

"Are you my new handler?"

Steve ran his hand through his hair and frowned. "No, I'm not your handler. I'm your friend. We grew up together..."

"Inseparable in the school yard and on the battlefield...." Bucky's voice perfectly parroted the pomp of the Smithsonian exhibit. "Captain America's right hand man." Then he returned to his normal voice. "You were my handler. You can be my new handler."

Steve shook his head. "No." He'd just spent the last two days reading about how Bucky was handled. "I'm not your handler. You don't need a handler anymore."

A brief look of ... was it disappointment? flashed across Bucky's face. "Very well." Bucky abruptly turned and started heading out a window.

"Bucky, wait! Where are you going?" Steve wasn't about to just let Bucky leave, but chasing him didn't seem the right thing to do either.

"The Asset can't sleep until he has reported to his handler." Bucky looked him in the eye. "If you're not my handler, I need to find one."

But that meant -- it's been a week since they took down Project Insight. Had Bucky been going without sleep for that long?

"Bucky, HYDRA's gone now. You can sleep without a handler..."

"The handler monitors the Asset's health and checks for irregularities. Just as the Asset helps the handler execute the assigned missions, the handler helps the Asset stay in peak condition." Bucky seemed to be reciting from some manual now.

Okay. Clever of HYDRA to set it up that Bucky actively seeks out monitoring. They *did* have 70 years to create the perfect symbiotic relationship to keep Bucky tied to the organization. Which meant that if Steve wanted Bucky to stay, to sleep, he'd have to...

"Fine. I'm your handler." Steve sighed. He'll deal with the consequences tomorrow. "Now stay and rest up."

Bucky was back in the room, looking about curiously. "Where, sir?"

Steve gestured. "Anywhere. There's a bed in the bedroom if you want that."

Bucky quickly settled for the armchair by the window. Of course. Safest place in the room. Nick Fury was no fool for picking that spot, either. But more than that, Steve was taken aback by the sudden change in Bucky's posture. Bucky had been tense and stiff during their conversation, but once Steve accepted the role of the handler ... well, now Bucky was nodding off, loose-limbed and unguarded. Steve fetched a blanket. "Thank you, sir." Then, a second before he fully conked out, there was a low mumble of "G'night, Steve."

Steve stretched out on the couch and watched Bucky sleep for a while, replaying those last words in his head. Bucky'd called him Steve. Well, he also called him sir, but HYDRA had spent a lot of time building up these protocols that forced Bucky to depend on a handler. But somewhere underneath it all ... Steve yawned. Bucky had come to Steve. Bucky remembered Steve. The rest could wait 'til morning.

---

The next morning the armchair was empty. Steve checked his small apartment, and also the fire escapes and rooftop. Dammit, he didn't think he'd sleep through Bucky leaving, but then again they'd trained Bucky to be silent.

Steve paced the living room. He should call Sam. But Sam looked like he really needed some down time. Steve shouldn't be a bother -- Sam's barely had time to check in with his family since a bunch of buildings fell on him, and really, Bucky was Steve's responsibility.... Steve plopped down on the armchair and stared out the window, looking for a flicker of Bucky's nondescript hoodie and baseball cap. Bucky was going to come back. Bucky *had* to come back.

The front door clicked open, and Steve heard a heavy thump on the floor. Steve leapt toward the sound, and managed to stop short of giving Bucky a hug. "You're back."

Bucky gave him a quizzical look. "Of course. You're my handler." Oh yeah, that. "I went to fetch the handler field maintenance kit." Bucky gestured at the heavy three-tiered box that he'd just dropped on the floor.

"Um, that's good. Why don't we have some breakfast first?" Steve opened the fridge and started pulling out some eggs.

Bucky didn't budge from his position. "I am to instruct a new handler on my proper use and maintenance. Permission to begin, sir?"

Judging by Bucky's suddenly tense form, it looked like this had to come before breakfast.

But Steve tried again. "Bucky, I'm glad you're back, but let's figure out this handler stuff later. Together."

"But it's protocol." There's a finality in Bucky's voice as he began reciting, "The handler must first be deemed suitable for managing the asset through a training session."

Steve sighed and pulled up a chair. A training session. Seemed like this was a routine that that Bucky had to run through before he could talk to him properly. Steve thought back to last night, how much Bucky relaxed once he found his handler and had permission to sleep. This was probably something similar.

"All right, what do we have here?" Steve thought back to the file he'd read yesterday, and braced himself. Handler field maintenance kit sounded just innocuous enough to hold instruments of torture.

Bucky took off his hoodie and opened the first tier of the box. It was actually surprisingly straightforward: weapons and weapons maintenance. It was quite an array of guns and knives. Bucky carefully went through each weapon and described when he would use it during a mission and where he would keep it on his body. "These are just the basics. The more specialized weapons are back at the base. I am proficient at all of them."

Steve nodded. A bit chilling to think about how many people Bucky has killed with these, but .. so far, so good. Then Bucky stood back up and raised his arms. "Please suit me up with three hand grenades, two knives, the Glock 19, and the SIG."

Steve didn't expect a quiz, but that made sense -- they needed to make sure that the handler could do his job of supplying Bucky with the right weapons in the field. And given that Bucky was trained to be the most efficient killing machine, out in the field was where Bucky got to call the shots. Steve scrolled through his memory, picked out the correct weapons and began strapping them onto Bucky. As he knelt down to latch on the holster around Bucky's thigh, he couldn't help breathing in the closeness of Bucky. They didn't even do this during the war.

Satisfied, Bucky pulled out a small gun and a case from his pants pocket and handed it to Steve. "Very good. As you have proven yourself trustworthy in supporting the Asset during a mission, in return, you are now trusted with the ability to take the Asset out during a mission." Steve shivered. Bucky's voice was a perfect mimicry of Alexander Pierce. Steve couldn't shake the feeling that he was standing in some HYDRA lab somewhere, instead of in his apartment. Then Bucky shifted to a different, calm instructional voice. "Tranquilizer darts. Designed to take effect on the Asset within three seconds. One to three is the recommended dosage, depending on where it's applied." Steve got the distinct feeling that the standard training session had at least three people involved.

Bucky clearly wanted Steve to carry the dart gun on him. Steve put it down on the table.

Bucky then took off his shirt and opened the second tier. It contained a field med kit and other items that seem designed to take care of Bucky after a mission. Bucky went through each item and listed out its optimal use given his injury recovery times. Steve paid more attention how that he knew there was probably a quiz at the end. Bucky's recovery times were pretty similar to Steve's and the field med kit was well stocked and quite similar to what he'd seen in the SHIELD kits. Not surprising since HYDRA and SHIELD were basically one, Steve thought bitterly. Steve was actually somewhat relieved to see that HYDRA cared enough about Bucky's overall health to include an emergency blanket and enough field rations for a few days. At least they weren't starving him.

Bucky then pulled out a long plastic tube from his pocket. "This is the gastro-intestinal tube for proper feeding. It's not part of the field kit, but if I am to stay here a while you will need to use it. I brought some bottles as well, so when you are ready, I can instruct you on its use."

Steve took the tube. Another present of sorts, but this time it was from Bucky, not Pierce. Bucky clearly wanted Steve to be his handler. But it also told Steve that Bucky has not had food besides nutrient slush and field rations for the duration of his captivity. The tube suddenly felt heavy in his hands, so he put it down on the table, as well. "Let's figure that out after this, Bucky."

Bucky nodded, then pulled a thin metal band from the box. "This fits around my head and detects brainwave patterns. It's used during sleep." Bucky's voice took a turn as he once again recited, "Out in the field, there are three options: One, the asset does not sleep at all. Two, the asset must be woken up every two hours to prevent REM sleep. Three is the sleep monitor band. It wakes the asset up automatically if any unnatural brain activity is detected." Bucky looked up helpfully. "You didn't use any of those methods last night, which is why I figured you didn't already have a maintenance kit." He handed the band to Steve. "We can start using this tonight."

Steve put that back in the box, making a mental note to throw it away as soon as he is able. If HYDRA was afraid to let Bucky sleep properly, the best thing he can do is the opposite.

Then came the quiz. Steve was instructed to remove Bucky's weapons and apply field dressing appropriate for a broken rib. This time, Steve managed to keep his hands firm as he carefully reached around Bucky's torso to apply the bandages. Thankfully he was standing behind Bucky, so Bucky didn't catch the way Steve blushed.

Once the dressing was removed appropriately, Bucky nodded in satisfaction. "Excellent." Steve winced, it was Pierce's voice again. "You have proven yourself trustworthy in caring for the Asset outside of a mission, in return, you are now trusted with the ability to discipline him if the need arises."

Shit. Steve looked down just as Bucky opened the bottom tier, and he had to swallow back his nausea. After the relative sanity of the first two tiers, he'd forgotten about the torture.

Bucky took off the rest of his clothes and knelt, naked, by the case of implements. Bucky's nakedness carried with it a sense of dread, now that Steve knew what it was for. But Steve forced himself to look at the box.

He recognized the magnetic cuffs instantly, and there was a spiked whip that was mentioned on page 8 of Bucky's file. The time lapse photos of Bucky healing from bloody streaks that ran deep enough to show bone was etched as deeply in his brain.

"Oh! A lot of the discipline methods I'll describe work better in conjunction with this." Bucky helpfully pulled out a stun baton from his discarded pants. "This comes standard issue with HYDRA, but you don't seem to have it, so I packed an extra." Another present from Bucky. Steve wanted to throw it out the window. He put it on the table instead.

Then, in the same tone of voice that he used to describe the functions of his weapons, Bucky went through the applications of the magnetic cuffs, the electric shock collar, and the spiked whip. There was also a control that disabled Bucky's arm and had the option to send shocks of varying degrees. Steve supposed it was a small blessing that he'd done his crying and vomiting the day before when he first read about these in Bucky's file. He wished those things had stayed in the form of grainy pictures, but really, he had no right to complain -- this was all stuff that had been used on Bucky. And if Bucky could sit there naked and talk about it the way he'd talk about field dressing... well, Steve owed Bucky that much to listen.

But that was only half of the box. Steve didn't recognize the other rods and spikes that peppered the other half.

Bucky looked apologetic as he pulled out a thick metal rod that was dotted with bumps. "The standard issue anal insertion device should be 10 inches, but Commander Rumlow used it so much he accidentally broke it. There weren't any other kits at the base, so I got this replacement from a store this morning." Something must have showed on Steve's face as he processed the fact that this was Rumlow's handler kit that Steve was inheriting. "Don't worry," Bucky hurried to amend. "Even though this is only 9 inches, I think we can sharpen the bumps into spikes, and I will bleed just as well. Especially if you turn it while it's inside me and use the baton."

Steve was glad he didn't have breakfast yet, because otherwise it'd be all over the floor right now. They did *this* to Bucky? *Rumlow* did it so much that he *broke* a dildo? He always knew Rumlow had a sadistic streak but... Steve slumped down next to Bucky and held his head between his knees.

"It's all right." Bucky laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "There are other bases, I can probably find one that has a more complete field kit if you prefer the standard issue devices." Steve was sure Bucky meant it to be reassuring, but the thought that this stuff came standard issue for all of Bucky's handlers just made it worse. "Besides, this part of the field kit is the most customizable and up to handler discretion." Great. Now Steve was picturing Rumlow standing in front of a wall of dildos and gleefully picking ones to try on Bucky.

In this hazy state, Steve missed the first part of Bucky's introduction of the gags and bits. There was something about how long each should be kept in the mouth for maximum pain and discomfort. "The spider gag is only effective if you intend to use it in conjunction with items you wish to insert. It does not cause direct pain as the others do, but handlers have found that it is very effective in rendering tears and docility. Cigarettes, discarded food items, and the stun baton all work, in addition to the regular male penis." Bucky added with some contrition, "It takes about 10 to make me start crying, though." Steve clenched his fist. Fuck those sadistic bastards. They gang-raped as Bucky as a form of punishment. Took pleasure and had the nerve to call it discipline. And then taught Bucky to evaluate all of this in terms of maximum effectiveness. He needed to punch something before he lost it.

Bucky, meanwhile, was plowing ahead. "The nose hook isn't used too frequently, but due to its small size, it has been standard in the kit since..."

"Stop." Steve grabbed Bucky's hand and managed to direct him to put down the small contraption. "Bucky, I don't want to know any more of this." Steve directed his shaking energy to gritting his teeth so that he wouldn't hurt Bucky with his grip.

"But if you don't know all of their uses, how will you pick one to try? What if you might use one wrong?" Bucky was all innocent confusion.

"I won't be using any of these." Steve managed to spit out.

Bucky paled. "But you *have* to, you're my handler, and this is part of being my handler. Otherwise they'd punish *you*. I *remember*."

Something in Bucky's voice caught Steve up short.

Bucky looked down. "Vanya was a good teammate, and so when my previous handler transferred, I requested him. But he couldn't pass this part of the handler training, so they used this on *him.*" Steve'd forgotten about the quiz at the end of each tier. There was a sick knot in the pit of his stomach. So this is how HYDRA enforced their world order: punish the Asset as instructed, or be punished yourself.

Bucky looked at the box and sighed. "It would have been easier if he just used it on me. Instead he disappeared." Bucky's face took a deeply familiar look of worry. "Steve I don't want that to happen to you."

Steve tried a different tack. He needed the reassure Bucky that he won't get punished for refusing to inflict this on Bucky. What would be a good HYDRA argument for not completing this final bit of handler training? "Well, this is for discipline, right? You haven't done anything that merits punishment, so I have no reason to use this. And they won't punish me for following proper handler protocols."

Bucky's frown stayed. "It's not just for discipline. Some of this is also common use for team bonding exercises, or just for fun. A handler is expected to know how to use these implements." God, a part of Steve had to admire the way HYDRA set this up, the internal logic of this give-and-take. Serve HYDRA in maintaining the asset in the field, and you get rewarded with the asset's body afterwards. And if you refuse, you are punished by HYDRA. What an efficient way of making sure everyone knows who the true master was.

Bucky gently loosened himself from Steve's grip and said softly. "Let me finish explaining this, Steve, and then you just have to test one."

Steve blinked back the sudden tears as Bucky droned on. Now that he thought about it, the questions for the previous two tiers were ridiculously easy. Even now, Bucky was trying to protect Steve, get him through the handler training as gently as possible.

This was just like last night: Bucky couldn't relax until the full protocol was carried out, and small wonder, if this was but an iota of the punishment that would await him. But at the same time, he desperately wanted Steve to be his handler. The flash of disappointment last night, all these gifts and softball questions today. This wasn't just the Winter Soldier needing protocol, this was Bucky needing Steve.

Steve looked at all the instruments of torture before him. If the only way past this is through... He thought back to Bucky's relaxed sleeping form the night before. He wanted that Bucky back.

Fine. Steve stood and picked up the whip. "Wait here, I'll be back in a few minutes."

Steve allowed himself a moment to punch his bed once he closed the bedroom door. He pictured punching Rumlow's smug grin off his face. The punching felt good, but it didn't solve the problem at hand, which was that he still had to play through this sadistic HYDRA charade. It made the taking down of Project Insight seem like a pyrrhic victory if HYDRA's protocols were still around. No, he'll think about that later. Steve looked at the whip in his hand and tried to remind himself that this was the least-bad option. Surface pain and no other forms of violation or humiliation. He wasn't sticking some metal dildo up Bucky's ass or cuffing Bucky and forcing his cock in Bucky's mouth. Steve took off his shirt and gave himself some test strikes on his arm and body. Painful, but nowhere as bad as it looked in the photos. For the scars to run that deep, they must have whipped Bucky for... No, Steve's not going to think about that right now. He just had to get through the protocol. Bucky's waiting.

Bucky's eyes widened slightly as he took in the marks on Steve's torso, but he remained kneeling on the floor, expectant. "There's no rules in the protocol against the handler hitting himself?" Bucky slowly shook his head as he processed the implication of the question. Steve wasn't about to let Bucky take any punishment that he wasn't going to give himself.

Bucky looked up as Steve stood over him. Steve took in the sight of Bucky, naked, trusting. Bucky had chosen to be here, had chosen Steve to be his handler. "Okay, let's get this over with, then we can have breakfast." Bucky nodded, then presented his back to Steve and said in his instructional voice. "Please use at least one of the instruments to discipline the Asset for a minor infraction."

Steve kept his eyes on the target as he struck.

Shit, they're not gonna find Steve for a while, are they? :(

OH MY GOD OW

What it says on the tin. Steve Rogers chained up and left out for any random Hydra goon who wants to fuck him.

Bonus trash kinks:
- He's blindfolded and can't see where he is, what's coming, or who's abusing him (and some of their voices sound awfully familiar...)
- Passing out and waking up to find he's already (still?) being fucked
- Humiliating signs or body writing--"rape me"/"free public fuckhole"/"insert cock here"/tally marks, etc
- Hole abuse. Asshole whipping, calling it a "cunt," object penetration (*cough* stunbatons), come leaking out... but especially those first two.

Bonus Steeb being Steeb:
- Defiant, pissed-off, sarcastic Steve trying to hide his horror and disgust
- He could make it stop any time he wanted. All he has to do is tell them where Bucky is...

YES PLEASE (hello my fav kink)

No no no no no

This is wonderful

YAAAAAAAS, God I wish there was more.

nnnnngh YES THIS MORE HARDER ;____________;

"Her second-in-command found out she was selling weapons. She killed him to keep him quiet."

Nomad thumbed back the hammer.

*

He didn't have to sleep as much as he knew most people did, and it was boring in his quarters, which was how he slipped into the habit. He developed it into a ritual, almost a game. He'd think of something, the smell of his dinner or the color of Doctor Risman's blouse or an overheard name, and feel around for an impression in his memory that was related to it, another color or a melody, even a texture. If he found one he'd use it as the next basis. His longest chain was 47 associations by the morning that Doctor Risman came to his quarters with the folder.

Nomad felt his heart sink. The doctor handed him the folder through the bars and he flipped it open to find a black-and-white picture of a man.

"Describe him," Doctor Risman said briskly. He tried not to let it show that he found the lack of social graces annoying and focused on the picture.

"Caucasian male, mid-twenties, dark hair, eyes probably blue," Nomad said, ignoring his rising unease. "No scale to indicate height but proportion suggests above average." He drew another breath and stopped.

"Yes?" Doctor Risman said.

He swallowed and said reluctantly, "I know him. At least, I've seen him." He knew instantly that it was the wrong answer, though Doctor Risman's face did not do anything as obvious as frown.

"I see," she said. "Come with me."

One of her guards unlocked his door and he trailed her, half a step back from her right shoulder, through the central room (only his quarters were occupied) and down the hall. He knew where they were going, without any clear idea of how he knew, and found himself grateful for her relatively slow pace.

When they came into the room that held the chair, Nomad checked for a moment. He couldn't help it. The artifact itself was innocuous, a reclining leather-covered chair that might have belonged to a dentist if not for the sturdy restraints built into the arms and the array of electronics mounted behind the head. But it frightened him.

"Sit," Doctor Risman said. It took him long enough to make his feet obey that she had to repeat the command. Every step felt like forcing himself through mud and he shuddered at the touch of the leather. He placed his arms in the restraints and a technician snapped them closed.

"I want you to think about the man in the picture," Doctor Risman said, as the chair began to whir. Nomad drew a too-fast breath, and another, as he tried to control his mind enough to obey. The eyes were blue, he was sure of it, and as the contacts came down towards his face he thought It'll be OK, just breathe, you'll be OK, and then the lightning arced through him and there was nothing but pain.

The fact that they're targeting his Bucky memories just fucking slays me, oh my god.

She's not stupid and she has an idea of what broke the Winter Soldier. And a fair amount of contempt for what she thinks of as "crude" methods.

Oh, it's brilliant, no doubt. Suckerpunches me right in the feels, every time.

OP

I THOUGHT I REPLIED TO THIS? HOW HAVE I NOT REPLIED TO THIS?!?! I think my brain just melts out my ears every time I read it and I walk away under the impression that my keysmash must've transmitted itself through the intertubes.

Steeeeve. Steve Steve Steve. So busy going "omg Bucky?!" and "but the mission" that it's like he hasn't even registered yet that he's on his knees being brutally raped. Like he won't even let himself feel that while he's still got a job to do. D:

And Bucky. DDD: On the one hand I'm happy for him and his clearly-delightful sex life with Steve... on the other hand he was going to walk right back in there, jesus. I'm not sure if that's better or worse than walking in with no clue--different kinds of awful, really.

When the man starts unzipping his pants, it takes Steve several seconds to understand what’s happening. At first, he thinks Harrison must be going for a weapon.
1. Yes good perfect Steve reaction
2. And I mean, Steve's not wrong, just not in the way he's expecting.

Oh man, this is what Bucky meant by making himself forget things so that they won't be corrupted/taken away... :(((((

(this is so brilliant <333)

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Sorry, man. What's left in my imagination was about 10 emotionally charged strokes, followed by a lot of hugging and kissing, followed by calling Sam and then the long recovery process. Steve gets to be a Very Good Handler for a while, and also Bucky takes them to lots of HYDRA bases and Steve punches many things.

And eventually when Bucky's sufficiently recovered they have the sex talk and actually manage to have decently kinky, fully consensual sex.

tbh I kinda stopped where I did mostly because I couldn't decide whether Bucky or Steve would get an involuntary hard-on from the whipping or not. (Regardless, the answer would complicate this whole thing too much.) So yeah, just quick "hai plz be my handler, here be some trash presents" fic instead. (Mostly I wanted to imagine the look on Steve's face when Bucky very helpfully gives him the stun baton. :3)

Thanks! :) I really enjoyed thinking through the handler-asset power dynamics

DA

But nonny, Steve being a Very Good Handler is like my whole life.

Haha. Well unfortunately I've got non-HYDRA non-trash to finish. But fortunately writing and imagination is available to everyone???

Actually last night I was like "But what if Bucky wanted to have sex with Steve but only associates sex with punishment, so he keeps messing up on missions or pissing Steve off and hoping that Steve'd use the mag cuffs and fuck him?"

While I am saddened you didn't expand on this scenario for a bajiion more words, I am SO HAPPY that you have left us all these images. Hooray for Steve the Very Good Handler! Hooray for Steve punching things!

Also. Now I have the thought in my head of a children's book titled "Bucky and the So Good, Very Wonderful Handler" in my head. It's grrrrrrreat.

Hnnng. Okay. Yes.

DA

Just chiming in to say the fic is great as it is, but THANK YOU for putting that extra image of involuntary hard-ons in my mind. :D

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Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Re: FILL: Lie Down on the Wire 8/?

Re: FILL: Lie Down on the Wire 9/?

Mini-Fill "Protocol" [1a/1] Re: Super-soldier Starter Kit

Re: Mini-Fill "Protocol" [1b/1] Re: Super-soldier Starter Kit

Re: FILL: Lie Down on the Wire 9/?

Re: FILL: Lie Down on the Wire 9/?

Steve, public use

Re: Steve, public use

Re: FILL: Lie Down on the Wire 9/?

Re: Mini-Fill "Protocol" [1b/1] Re: Super-soldier Starter Kit

Re: Mini-Fill "Protocol" [1b/1] Re: Super-soldier Starter Kit

Re: Unprompted fill: My Command (Steve/Bucky), 3/?

Re: FILL: Lie Down on the Wire 10/?

Re: FILL: Lie Down on the Wire 10/?

Re: FILL: Lie Down on the Wire 10/?

Re: FILL: Lie Down on the Wire 10/?

Re: Habeas Corpus (3/?)

Re: FILL: Lie Down on the Wire 10/?

Re: Mini-Fill "Protocol" [1b/1] Re: Super-soldier Starter Kit

Re: Mini-Fill "Protocol" [1b/1] Re: Super-soldier Starter Kit

Re: Mini-Fill "Protocol" [1b/1] Re: Super-soldier Starter Kit

Re: Mini-Fill "Protocol" [1b/1] Re: Super-soldier Starter Kit

Re: Mini-Fill "Protocol" [1b/1] Re: Super-soldier Starter Kit

Re: Mini-Fill "Protocol" [1b/1] Re: Super-soldier Starter Kit

Re: Mini-Fill "Protocol" [1b/1] Re: Super-soldier Starter Kit