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hydratrashmeme2015-09-09 07:23 pm
trashmod) wrote in hydratrashmeme2015-09-09 07:23 pm
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.
[Round 1] [Round 2] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained bygreenkirtle)] [Round 3 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]
Round 3 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 4.
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] [Round 2] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by
greenkirtle)] [Round 3 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]Round 3 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 4.
Unprompted Fill: Skin Trade 4/6
(Anonymous) 2016-08-02 05:54 am (UTC)(link)The Winter Soldier is an imperfect machine. It tries very hard to be good for its masters, whomever they may be at the time. East or West, it knows that Hydra is above the petty political boundaries of mankind. In time it will sweep the lines away and all the world will kneel.
The Winter Soldier understands kneeling.
This always begins with the same words: «Please, sir, a request,» and it’s on its knees with eyes downcast and empty hands displayed. It isn’t always certain whom to ask when its awful cravings grow too strong to bear. This is a terrible imperfection but each time it awakens it learns the many ways its masters are merciful.
It performs perfectly in the field, or as close to perfection as it can manage. It has killed the dissident, its team has laid the evidence pointed to their catspaw, and its extraction went off without a hitch. Yet it is tired as it has no right to be, and it is listless as it has no business being. Restless. Bored. Flawed. So it kneels and dares to hope it’s chosen the correct person to solicit: either he will help indulge the asset’s imperfect wants, or he will correct them until it no longer desires anything but the ice. Being frozen is a mercy. Everything that leads up to it is order.
The technician – Lyashev, it seemed to recall – that it chose this time looked stunned, even glancing around as if he expected to find someone higher-ranking standing behind him. But no, he was the one. The asset had an instinct about this. Something about his long face and sandy hair said he was the one to trust.
«What is it you want?» The man reached out a hand. The asset braced to have its head yanked around by the hair – then gasped when Lyashev petted him like a hound instead. Oh, oh that was nice. Its masters sometimes did this at parties when they showed it off to their colleagues from overseas. The asset leaned into the touch and the technician watched with hunger in his eyes. This was a good choice. It made its request.
«That will be difficult,» the technician told him, «but I can make it happen if you’re good.»
“Да,” the asset promised. It could be very good. It reached down for its belt, but Lyashev pulled it up by the shoulders and bid it strip starting at the leather jacket encasing its upper body. Ah, he wanted it nude. A tiny frisson of concern crept up its spine but it complied all the same. Trying to predict Hydra was not the asset’s place; obeying was.
Lyashev watched it peel leather and canvas from its skin. He wore his hunger openly, as plain as the asset’s metal arm, and wasn’t that a curious thing? Once it stepped out of its pants, Lyashev’s hands were all over its body, squeezing here, kneading there. It felt...it felt. It didn’t hurt. The asset held very still, hoping this would continue. Perhaps emboldened by this docility, the technician swayed closer, close enough to smell and lick the asset’s collarbone. His teeth came as a surprise but that didn’t hurt either, and that was curious indeed. The Winter Soldier watched him with keen eyes and a cocked head.
«Such a beautiful body,» Lyashev crooned. «You are without a doubt one of Hydra’s greatest creations. Such power, such elegance.» He ran his hands down the asset’s arms, paying special attention to the metal one, and pushed his fingers through its hair – it wanted to purr. «But you are so greedy, little doll. Come, let’s see to your payment, shall we?»
It nodded easily. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, if only Lyashev would just keep petting its hair so nicely. At Lyashev’s direction it bent over a gurney. It counted breaths and focused on relaxing; clenching up just led to unnecessary damage.
It wasn’t expecting to feel the technician’s fingers at its hole, certainly not greased up with some sort of gel. This was so unexpected, to the asset’s chagrin, it straightened up to blink over its shoulder.
«Relax, gosling. I’m only getting you ready.» Lyashev stroked the Winter Soldier’s back and gently pushed it back down. That didn’t make any sense. It was already nude and bent over. Wasn’t it ready enough?
Apparently not for the technician’s liking. A single finger pressed for entry; annoyed, the asset pressed back and took it in one smooth motion. Lyashev groaned, then laughed: «See, greedy!»
That one digit was easy to take, especially coated with whatever that substance was. Soon Lyashev rocked the second one in alongside it, and the stretch finally started to burn. The asset identified an increase in heart rate and respiration; it predicted stress hormones due to anticipation of the fucking to come. But those slim, strong, wet fingers kept on pressing in and out of its ass as relentless as a piston. They brushed against something that felt electric – not the fearsome electric nightmare of the chair, but a static jolt that buzzed in the base of the asset’s spine and tingled through its genitals. Lyashev hummed and rubbed directly on that hard spot, and the asset’s cock twitched, which was enough to short-circuit its brain. What? What?! It hadn’t even thought that part of it worked that way!
It hoped Lyashev would be merciful enough to forgive the noise it made, but Lenin’s tomb, it hadn’t ever dreamed that something could feel as good as those fingers rubbing on that spot. It whined and rocked back, not to try to make it end but to get more, more, «Please, more,» it shouldn’t beg but it had no programming for how to deal with this contingency.
«Patience, little greedy one,» Lyashev chuckled. He kept rubbing its flank and metal arm as one might rub a wolfskin rug. He even pressed his lips to the jagged ring of scars where metal met flesh. Though the asset couldn’t understand what the purpose of that was, it was so nice, so kind.
Once two fingers were met with no more resistance, the technician spread the asset’s cheeks and gave it three. This, at last, felt more like getting fucked, and it waited for the nice to be over and the real fucking to begin. It would be used and filled and flooded like a good whore deserved. And yet – yet Lyashev was gentle still, even adding more of that gel to his hand as he twisted and massaged at the asset’s asshole to coax it open more. He spent as much time stroking the hard electric spot as he did stretching the hole he was overdue to take. Clear fluid drooled from the asset’s cock-tip. On an intellectual level it understood what this was, but it still had a hard time believing it was actually happening. It was growing hard from being touched, a thing it had never considered possible.
«Ready, gosling?» Lyashev murmured into its back. It whimpered as it nodded, trembling, in utter awe that this doctor, this magician had made the asset want to feel his cock instead of merely wanting it to be done. A hand on the small of its back held it steady as the man fed his slicked-up dick into its hole, every bit as slow and careful as he had been with his fingers. The asset groaned and pushed back. It felt full; its skin was light and fire; it truly believed, now, everything other Hydra agents had said about it being made to take a hard cock. Did the others not know how to make it work this way? Or did they not care? Marx’s moustache, they’d all been missing out on this!
After a few deep, languid strokes, Lyashev took a deep breath and pulled out. He wasn’t done, though, oh no. He pulled the asset’s elbow and guided it to flip over onto its back. This position wasn’t unfamiliar; sometimes they wanted to watch the asset’s face and come on its chest. The technician slid back inside and rolled his hips. There wasn’t as much pressure on that spot now, but it was still good, so very good, and the asset was floating dazed as the man began to fuck it. It bucked up against his thrusts and answered his little groans with its own.
«Beautiful,» Lyashev panted. He licked and sucked at a nipple and worried it with his teeth, and at that the asset could not remain quiet. Its hands wanted to reach for him, grasp him, something, but it knew it mustn’t initiate touch lest it be mistaken for aggression. Hydra had made the Winter Soldier so very strong; it had to be careful to only use that gift to serve. So it crossed its wrists above its head and arched into Lyashev’s attentions, with its cock hard and balls growing tight in greater pleasure than it ever would deserve.
«What a...a spendid machine we have created. So beautiful when it’s in pain, so glorious when you’re causing it to others...so beautiful and glorious when it’s pleasure, too.» Lyashev held onto its metal shoulder, and reached down to grasp its cock. It sucked in a loud breath and dared to make eye contact, bewildered and hopeful; the man was beaming at it, blue eyes dancing. No, that wasn’t right. Hazel, his eyes were hazel. Why would the asset expect them to be blue?
«You want to come, don’t you, gosling? Greedy and beautiful beast. Come for me, show me how much you like a good hard dick in your pretty hole.»
He kissed the asset’s chest, rubbed his thumb across its frenulum just above the foreskin, and that was that: the Winter Soldier cried out like it was dying and tumbled into its first orgasm since its creation.
The technician straightened up some and looked thoroughly pleased with himself. Now at last he quickened the pace, strange praise tumbling from his lips as he pounded into the purring, boneless asset beneath him. He didn’t come as much as some, but catching his load deep inside felt like a little victory, like the asset had done something very good.
Even afterward, Lyashev took several lazy minutes to touch the asset’s body all over again before finding somewhat-clean rags to towel themselves off.
«You did so well,» he praised, petting the asset’s hair again. «Now for your reward.»
#
The Winter Soldier sat by a pond that hadn’t yet thawed with spring, a stone’s throw from the facility where it was being kept. A heavy collar rested around its neck connected to three long metal dogcatcher poles held by senior operatives, any of which would deliver a disabling shock if the asset was anything but docile. It had seven minutes of this free time left to look on the pond and birds and fields. Seven minutes before they marched back to the base.
The asset had no intention of being anything but cooperative anyway. Already it was thinking of what else it could get away with asking of Lyashev. It would have to be less dramatic; the technician already had it pegged.
The Winter Soldier was an imperfect, greedy machine.
Re: Unprompted Fill: Skin Trade 4/6
(Anonymous) 2016-08-02 06:09 am (UTC)(link)Also, love how the dehumanization is increasingly internalized.
Re: Unprompted Fill: Skin Trade 4/6
(Anonymous) 2016-08-02 06:45 am (UTC)(link)Re: Unprompted Fill: Skin Trade 4/6
(Anonymous) 2016-08-02 09:34 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Unprompted Fill: Skin Trade 4/6
(Anonymous) 2016-08-02 10:17 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Unprompted Fill: Skin Trade 4/6
(Anonymous) 2016-08-02 11:52 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Unprompted Fill: Skin Trade 4/6
(Anonymous) 2016-08-03 05:50 am (UTC)(link)