hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

Okay, kids, you know the drill. Don't be a jerk except to fictional characters. Warn if you want, but read at your own risk, because

hydratrashmeme is about as far from a safe space as you can get. Garbage we like: noncon, whump, aftermath, violence, mind control, inappropriate uses of Bucky Barnes' metal arm, bad guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves. Garbage you should find a different trashcan for: a/b/o, D/s-verse, soulbonds, mundane AUs, OOC evil!good guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves, rotting leftovers dressed up as a romantic gourmet meal. Nothing wrong with 'em, but this isn't the crowd you should be pitching to if you're trying to sell Brock Rumlow as anything but a human dumpster fire.

Link your fills on the fill post, post unprompted fills as replies to a header comment so the wall o' text is collapsible, and let me know if you're interested in helping out with the Pinboard archive.

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All prompts or fills that contain Infinity War spoilers must go on the Infinity War spoiler post until May 26th. Spoilers in the main dumpsters will be deleted.

Round 4 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 5.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

YESSSSSSS I FUCKING LOVED THIS!!!! Winter Soldier being so desperately grateful to his new handler, begging for scraps (as it were)! Pierce calling him pretty! The Russians being totally repulsed by the whole collective shenanigans! AHHHHH!!!!!

Hnngh yesss. Always here for touch-starved superheroes, and this is especially wonderful.

AA: Thank you!! It's my favorite combination in fic!

AA: Thanks! Not bad for something I jammed out in the course of a night, lol.

AA: Thank you so much! :D I am SUCH a sucker for skin hunger and identity porn, so this is pretty much Id City for me. ;) Pretty pleased with the bit where the Russian doctor tries to blame the Winter Soldier for getting raped, and the WS is like "bitch I had orders, back off"

AA: Thanks! It's a big thing for me too. I can't help but ramp up the skin hunger to eleven and leave him absolutely wrecked when he finally gets touched. Something about simple, gentle contact just completely ruining someone, especially someone strong, really does it for me!

Bucky simply couldn’t believe that Steve wanted to touch him, any part of him. Ever. He was disgusting. A monster, a thing.

But that touching was so, so good. He shuddered into it. Craved it like a drug. What did it matter if it stirred up uneasy things inside him? So what if each increasingly more intimate sensation left Bucky distant and compliant for longer and longer?

He needed it, and he hated himself for wanting it. For forcing Steve to debase himself by touching something so ugly.

It left him feeling slimy, used, but he loved it so much. Steve’s touch was, and should be, the best thing in his life. To be loved and cherished, undeserving though he was, that feeling was everything to him. But he couldn't help but shiver with fear and shame each time.

Memories tickled in the back of his head, but Bucky couldn’t place them. Something about sex, about being treated softly. Every once in a while he’d get a flash of blond hair. Rarely he’d have a flash about glasses. He assumed it was Steve during the war, though why they’d bother to dress up with spectacles was beyond Bucky.

Steve was so happy, too. Every needy noise and choked off grunt that Bucky made just made Steve smile and love on him more. So what if Bucky lost a little time when they touched? His brain was probably just whiting out with how good it all felt, and the upset and filthy feeling afterwards was just his own inability to accept nice things.

So what if, more and more, Bucky couldn’t decide if he loved or hated Steve touching him?

--

Steve rolled his hips into Bucky, fucking into him slow and easy. Bucky was always so tight and sweet, so perfect under him that Steve was nearly crosseyed with trying to keep from coming right away.

The way Bucky shoved his ass up in the air and just clutched the sheets, like he was holding on for his life. Fuck, it made Steve just want to ravish him. But he refrained. After everything Bucky had been through, he deserved every sweet and gentle touch Steve could give him.

So Steve took his time, and took Bucky apart inch by inch.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Steve said, gripping Bucky’s hips tightly and grinding them together. “You’re so good for me. Perfect.”

Bucky sobbed into the sheets and tried to shove himself farther back onto Steve’s cock. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The first time Bucky had called him ‘sir’, Steve had worried a bit. But Bucky never demanded anything from him, never wanted anything other than more of what Steve was already doing to him. It took a little research, some of which Steve wasn’t fully comfortable with, but he’d found out that wanting someone to be in charge during sex wasn’t unusual. They’d never been like that before the war, but, well, people’s needs and wants changed over time, and Steve understood that.

Steve found that he didn’t mind. It sparked something hot and possessive inside of him. No one would ever hurt Bucky again because he was Steve’s.

Sex wore Bucky out now days. He’d lie there, limp and panting like they’d been running all day. Steve always took extra care to clean him up and make him comfortable, because soon enough Bucky would pull away. He’d drag himself to the corner of the room or the bed and just curl in on himself and shake.

The first time that happened, Steve tried to hold him, comfort him with whatever he was going through. Bucky had scrambled away, terrified, tears leaking down his face. Steve never tried again after that. He just laid down nearby and talked him through it.

Eventually Bucky would come back to himself. Every time, he would crawl over to where Steve lay and apologize for being dirty and wrong, over and over. Beg to be touched again.

Every time, it broke Steve’s heart. Seeing Bucky pile so much hate on himself was like a knife in the chest.

Steve would have stopped the sex altogether, but Bucky pleaded with him for it. Practically chased Steve through the apartment one time, intent on getting close and cuddly.

In the end Steve couldn’t deny Bucky anything he wanted, even if the after effects were a little rough. It was possible that sex was one of the few times where Bucky could get out of his own head and just feel appreciated. Loved. Steve could deal with anything just to make sure Bucky had those moments.

Steve adjusted his angle, making sure that his cock rubbed Bucky just the right way on every stroke. It felt so damn good. Hit and tight all around him. The soft swell of Bucky gorgeous ass and the taste of his sweat. Steve wanted to just eat him up. Fuck him until they both were senseless.

Bucky cried out, moaning and shaking his head back and forth. There was a soft rrripp as the sheets gave way under his fists, so lost in pleasure that he’d started to forget his own strength. This would be a good one, Steve was sure.

“That’s right. Let me hear you,” Steve said, voice rough with want.

“Yes! Yes, sir!” Bucky practically howled the words, tears streaming down his face.

Steve slammed into him, hard and sharp, causing them both to groan. Then he leaned down over Bucky, draping his body over Bucky’s back, and wiped the tears off his face. That hard body was so beautiful, Steve couldn’t believe Bucky didn’t see it.

He pressed down into Bucky’s, ass, trying to get them as tightly together as he could. His cock was so hard that it pulsed with the pounding of his heart. The more Steve pressed down, the wider Bucky’s legs were shoved open, until he was pressed nearly flat into the bed. Every bit of added weight only tightened up his rim. His ass practically milked Steve’s dick, clenching and gripping him so sweetly that Steve nearly screamed.

“Good boy, so needy. So ready for me,” Steve whispered in his ear. Bucky nodded quickly, eyes screwed shut.

God, Steve was so fucking close. He wanted Bucky to come with him though, wanted to feel him tighten up around Steve’s cock. Keeping his full weight bearing down, he grabbed Bucky’s metal hand and guided it down, urging Bucky to jerk himself off.

He quickly got to work, though the movement of his hand was hampered by how tightly they were pressed to the bed. Steve pulled up Bucky’s hips a bit with one hand, giving him room to fuck his own fist. The other hand, Steve kept tight on Bucky’s shoulder, forcing his head down.

It was so fucking good, feeling Bucky under him. Feeling Bucky roll his hips into Steve’s cock and then back into his own hand, chasing pleasure in both directions. His skin was burning hot under Steve’s hands and each little moan only made everything that much more desperate. Steve couldn’t stop the feral grin that split his face, nor could he resist pounding into Bucky as hard as he could.

Heat roared through him and he struggled not to leave bruises onto Bucky’s skin with how tightly he gripped him. He wanted to pull at all that lovely, long hair, force Bucky to show more of his beautiful pale neck, but Steve was too caught up in the moment. All he needed was more. More feeling, more of that tight, wet heat. Already he could feel himself tightening up, almost ready come come. The pleasure was so intense that his brain seemed to short circuit, letting his mouth just run with every filthy thing he could think of.

He was so close. From how frantically Bucky was moving, he could tell Bucky was close, too.

“Fuck. So hot for me, aren’t you?” Steve was babbling, he knew he was, but he couldn’t quite stop. He slammed down harder, pulling out nearly all the way with each thrust, and then pounding back in, slapping their flesh together. An obscene squelch sound accompanied every move, reminding them both how soaking wet Bucky’s ass was. “Who do you belong to? Tell me.”

“Hydra, sir,” Bucky said hoarsely, fist moving rapidly over his dick.

Steve froze for a moment as he processed that answer. Then suddenly it clicked. Horror filled him up so quickly that he practically choked on it.

“What? Bucky, no!” Steve pulled himself away and flipped Bucky over as fast as he could, trying to get a read on what was going on.

But Bucky’s eyes were still closed tightly, tears dripping down his face. Every muscle practically screamed with tension as he furiously jerked off. “I’m sorry, sir! My hole belongs to you, sir!”

Steve’s hands hovered over Bucky’s writhing body, unsure of what to do. Where to touch. If he should touch. His own pleasure was long forgotten. Now all he felt was cold dread.

“Bucky, please. It’s Steve. You’re not with Hydra any more. Please, honey. Tell me you know where you are. Say my name,” Steve begged. The urge to both cry and rage boiled inside of him, and the world spun. He couldn’t breathe.

“Pierce, sir.” No, no, no, no, no. “My tight, dirty holy belongs to you, sir.” With that, Bucky choked off a groan and came all over himself, spurt after spurt of thick, white fluid covering his chest and metal hand. Slowly, he jerked himself dry, his chest heaving from the strain, and then whispered, “Thank you, sir.”

Steve couldn’t think, couldn’t even move. All he could do was stare in horror, jaw dropped and hands still out stretched. Realization rolled over him.

Pierce raped Bucky, made him want it. Made him ask for it. Every time Bucky called Steve, ‘sir’, he thought Steve was Pierce.

Every. Single. Time.

His gorge rose and Steve fought off the urge to vomit. He’d-- fuck, he’d thought he was helping. Thought that they were doing something good, but he’d raped Bucky. Took advantage of him. No wonder Bucky fled to a corner after it was all done.

Bucky cracked open his eyes and looked down at Steve’s now-limp cock. “Sir. You didn't finish. Please, sir, use my mouth.” He shifted around on the bed, crawling forward and angling his head so he could swallow Steve down.

The moment Bucky touched Steve’s leg with one hand, it was like a shock ran through every part of Steve’s body. He flinched back hard and scrambled away. A cold sweat broke out all over and his brain felt like it was on fire. He couldn’t, wouldn’t let Bucky touch him like this.

No, no, no, no, no…

Now Bucky began to sob in earnest, and crawled forward as low as he could manage. “Please, sir, I’m sorry. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please touch me, sir. Please, I need it…”

Those words broke through the disgust. Whatever was going on with Steve, he couldn’t leave Bucky like that, sobbing because he thought he’d done something wrong. Swallowing down the pain and upset, he gritted his jaw and gathered Bucky up in his arms and gently petted him.

“You did well, Bucky.” Steve couldn’t bring himself to call him ‘asset’ or ‘soldier’. He just couldn’t. His eyes stung and he sniffed hard, nose already starting to run. Bucky keened in his arms and arched in to every touch like it was a blessing. “So good. You’re perfect, Bucky. You didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is your fault.”

It’s mine, he thought.

The rocked together for a while, and when Bucky finally started to pull back, Steve let him go. Per his norm, Bucky crawled away to the corner of the bed, tucked himself into a ball, and sat there shivering.

Unable to hold himself back at that point, Steve buried his face in the sheets and wept. Every time he thought he was helping, every time things were starting to look okay, Steve went and fucked it up. Literally, he thought with awful self-loathing.

He pulled the sheets close, covering his face as he cried, forearms bracketing his head to muffle the sound. Steve did his best to keep quiet. After everything Bucky had been through, he didn’t need Steve’s upset as well.

His whole body was one solid ache, a useless mass of pain and guilt. Every little trail of liquid, every drop of sweat and lube, felt like poison seeping into him; a reminder of the terrible way he’d hurt his best friend, the other half of his soul.

All he needed to do was keep quiet for awhile as Bucky came back to himself. Steve could take this moment to deal, and then he’d be ready to help Bucky through whatever he was feeling.

In a minute. Just another minute to try and get out all the pain.

Something in the back of his head registered movement. Dimly, he recognized that he was rocking a bit, so he wrote the movement off as just that. But then there was a soft touch on his back.

“Steve?” Bucky sounded so hesitant, so concerned.

Steve flinched back in surprise and revulsion. Not at Bucky. He could never think Bucky was anything less than amazing. No, all his bile and loathing was for himself. He’d taken broken a sacred trust, and worse, he’d enjoyed it.

“Steve, please, tell me whats wrong. Sweetheart.”

Steve scrubbed the tears from his eyes and looked up at Bucky’s worried face. He wanted to reach out and brush the furrow from his brow, but couldn’t bring himself too. Steve didn’t deserve to touch Bucky ever again.

“Bucky,” he said, voice thick and cracking. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Steve stared at his hands, unable to meet his gaze any longer.

But Bucky wasn’t having it. He crowded close to Steve and held out his hand. Steve wanted to touch him, more than anything, but how could he justify it? What right did he have?

When Steve just sat there, Bucky swallowed hard and reached out to pull their hands together, and gently rubbed his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. “Steve, you gotta talk to me. What happened?”

“You---” Steve tried to swallow around the massive lump in his throat, but couldn’t quite do it. “You called me Pierce.” Bucky’s hands froze in his grip.

“What.”

Steve had to keep going. Had to come clean. This was too huge a thing. He couldn’t hide his shame, his betrayal. It wouldn’t be right. “You’ve been calling me ‘sir’. When we. And. And I thought that you just m-might like that now. But you called me Pierce. Said you belonged to Hydra. All this time, I was using you just like they did.”

“Shut up!” Bucky grabbed hold of Steve’s neck, forcing him to look Bucky in the face. The whites showed all around Bucky’s beautiful silver-blue eyes and Steve could feel the slight tremble in his hand. “You are nothing like them. Nothing. Do you hear me?”

As painful as Bucky’s grip was, Steve welcomed it. Leaned into it, even. The fact that Bucky was still even willing to touch him at all was a gift. That still didn’t stop him from saying what had to be said.

“You thought I was them. Whatever I was doing was similar enough that you couldn’t tell the difference.” The words tasted like rot in his mouth, but he still said them.

Bucky flinched like he’d been slapped, eyes closing as he breathed heavily. But he still held on to Steve. “I didn’t remember.”

Didn’t. But now he did.

Steve took a breath and paused to treasure the feeling of Bucky’s hands on him. After this it might never happen again.

“I liked it, too,” he said in a whisper. Awful shame filled him. If Steve could had had a gun right there he might have shot himself. He almost hoped Bucky would. “I’m as bad as they were.”

“Shut. Your fucking. Mouth.” Bucky’s voice was so rough it hurt to listen to. The faint clack-clack-clack of the plates on his arm recalibrating echoed around the room. A huge shudder raced through him and ended with him shaking his head. “Whatever happened to me is not your fault.”

“Maybe not, but this is---” Steve started.

“I said shut your fucking mouth! I’m talking. You listen.” Bucky leaned forward, almost to the point where their foreheads were touching, then he stalled out. Steve couldn’t find it in himself to stay still. He leaned forward, pressing their heads together. Maybe that was the right move, because Bucky shivered and pressed against him, and some of the tension left the hand on Steve’s neck. “You are nothing like them. You are the best, most beautiful, most wonderful person in the world. You said I deserve nice things, right? Well you are the nice thing that I want. The only nice thing I want.”

Now Bucky was looking at him, their eyes just inches apart. Nowhere to hide from the honesty in that gaze.

“Bucky.” Steve’s voice was soft and pleading. “I hurt you. I took advantage of you. You. You thought I was them.” Hot tears spilled down his cheeks.

“I didn’t remember. I just. I wanted to be touched so bad.” Bucky was crying, too. His other hand found Steve’s shoulder and held him close. “Something felt wrong, felt bad with us, but I didn’t remember. Now that I do, it still doesn’t matter. You hear me Rogers? It doesn’t fucking matter.” Bucky closed his eyes and sagged forward. “Please. Please don’t take away the one good thing in my life.”

“Buck…”

“No. You’re it. I don’t know how you fucking stand to touch me, but every time you do it’s the best part of my day. Please, Steve. Don’t leave me alone.”

Steve pulled Bucky close and held him as tightly as he could. The little noise of relief that Bucky made stabbed him right in the heart, and then Bucky was hugging him back.

It took a few minutes before Steve could try to talk again. Even when he did, he still didn’t let Bucky go. “We’re gonna have to talk about this. Find some way to-- to touch without throwing you out of your head. Some kind of check in or something.”

Because Steve couldn’t do this again. Didn’t ever want to take the place of Bucky’s abusers.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, voice cracking. “Yeah, we can do that. We can figure it out.”

They stayed pressed together for a long time, clinging to each other for comfort.

Hell yes, good shit AA, good shit. Hnnnng this is what I like to see. Steve needs more horror and trash, thank you.

Mmm part 2 waiting for me when I replied to part 1. Heaven. And yessss, I just want them trying things to avoid triggering. Maybe Steve bottoms or Bucky is on top or all sorts of things, maybe firmer touches, harder or a bit bdsm... different so it won't trigger. Heh

AA of THOA: I JUST CAME HERE TO SCREAM ABOUT THIS AND HOW GOOD IT IS AND HOW MUCH I LOVE THE ROLE REVERSAL HERE AND THE CONTINUED THREAD OF OPTIMISM THAT THEY CAN GET BETTER AND BE OKAY AND HAVE GOOD THINGS (EACH OTHER)

"my NEW daddy is much nicer than you!!!"

And, I love WS enjoying the feeling of that modicum of 'protection' that Pierce offers him, too -- his new handler says WS is a good boy and by God is he going to retain that status if it kills him.

A million trashy hearts for this!

OH SNAP!!!! All the angst!!!!!! YEAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I don't have anything coherent to say, just that I loved this so much and AAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Okay a comment on a fill has me just. Full of needs.
"""my NEW daddy is much nicer than you!!!"

And, I love WS enjoying the feeling of that modicum of 'protection' that Pierce offers him, too -- his new handler says WS is a good boy and by God is he going to retain that status if it kills him. ""

Asset is a very large very dangerous little boy who craves the love and kindness of a Daddy more than anything. He will do anything for a cuddle and praise and maybe a boiled sweet or an ice lolly.

Please have horrible sexy things as part of his rewards and punishments. Like if he is good he can suck Daddy's cock and be petted and praised and caressed for hours, and if he is bad Daddy will spank him on his little boy parts but will still love him afterwards if he earns forgiveness.

Please kink meme. I have a mighty need.

OP adding: If you wanted to add touch starvation and really bad punishments mean Daddy won't touch him and time outs... I can jive that as long as lots of sexual trash is at least hinted at too.

It woke up, as it usually did, with its head against the bars of its cage, head groggy from a recent wipe. It only had its three flesh legs, which meant that it would have to earn back its metal one. There was tension in its shoulders, probably because its body already sense the owners’ approach. But something also felt different. Why did the bars of its cage feel wrong?

One owner clacked his baton against the other cages of the kennel as he walked in, riling up the other dogs. It slowly sat up to wait for its owner, listing slightly to the right to compensate for the loss of its left forelimb, its body sore from whatever happened last night that it couldn’t remember. Not remembering was normal, so why was it listening for a particular bark that seems missing? Why did its heart fall when it didn’t see a golden head sniffing at the door of its cage?

One owner squatted before the cage door and banged his baton. “Hey puppy, remember me?”

It whined through its muzzle. It never remembered, but it knew an owner when it saw one. The owner turned to the other owner and said, “See? Told you the chair still worked.”

“Yeah yeah, let’s just do the standard post-wipe regimen. Best to retrain as best as possible.”

Retrain? It shuddered. No wonder they took away its metal leg. Retraining meant that it had messed up, it had been a bad dog, and its owners were not pleased. Retraining meant pain.

It really wished it could remember what it did wrong, but it was bad at remembering — one of the many things that made it a bad dog. It whined and tried to lick the owner’s boot through the cage bars.

The owner laughed and the cage door swung open with a clang. “Come on, pup.”

It shuffled out, head down, and sat quietly as the owner attached the leash to its choke collar.

As it was lead down the kennel, it did its usual catalogue all of its own wrong-ness, all of the ways it didn’t measure up to the other dogs that they passed. Proper dogs had real tails, whereas its tail plug felt heavy in its ass, and had to be removed for breeding. Its cock could not knot properly. Its ears and its legs were wrong. It had to limb along on only three limbs.

But this time, it wasn’t the only wrong one. Why did the other cages look so wrong? Too cold and hard. Why did it keep expecting to see soft cushions and brightly-colored chew toys? Why did the hunger in the other dogs seem wrong? Attack dogs are kept hungry, it is the natural way of things.

It couldn’t afford to dwell on these confusing thoughts, not when slowing meant prongs digging into its neck, not when it was missing a limb, and not when it was slotted for retraining. It kept pace with its owners, pissed on command, sat and heeled and played dead, licked whatever the owners wanted licked, and tried to sooth its growling stomach. Food was a reward and it had been a bad dog.

When the owners were satisfied with its rudimentary obedience, it was led down into the breeding pit and its collar tethered to a ring on the ground. With its head pressed against the dirt floor of the breeding pit, it tried its best to present its ass properly, rear legs spread wide and back arched so that it was easy to mount. It tucked its foreleg carefully out of the way, making the rest of its body easily accessible to the needs of the other dogs, as well.

One owner kicked it hard in the ribs, making it whine and topple to the side, the collar leaving sharp points of pain as its body was yanked away from the ring on the ground. “Try again, ass higher.”

It complied. Another owner kicked it, from the other direction. “Ass was too high this time.”

Another time, another kick, this time in its balls. “Why aren’t you hard? Good dogs should enjoy being bred.”

By the time its owners were satisfied, its sides were bruised purple and black, and it registered at least one broken rib. Its left shoulder was sore from taking the brunt of all of the falls, and its neck was a bloody mess, its breath shallow and swift against the cold of the choke collar. But finally, one owner pulled out its tail plug with a slick pop, and it could hear the other owner opening the kennel doors in the distance.

It closed its eyes and braced its weak and quivering legs — it needed to remain in perfect position to be mounted. It needed to stay hard and have its hole filled. It needed to be a good dog and know its place.

Being a good dog meant pleasing the other dogs.

Being a good dog meant pleasing its owners.

Being a good dog meant food and water.

And getting its metal limb back.

And human training.

As the other dogs rushed in, fresh and eager, hyped up on the scent of blood and the old ejaculate dripping down its legs, it clung to that: Being a good dog meant human training.

A stream of warm piss hit its face and it let the other dogs take it.

Somewhere above it, there was noise. Muted booms. Some yelling. It tried to peel its head up from the sticky mess on the floor, but the choke collar bit into its neck, and the dog’s knot pulled at the rim of its hole. It put its head back down, relaxed against the knot, and waited. Good dogs followed orders. Good dogs didn’t anticipate.

Soon enough, it heard voices walking down the kennel.

“It was just his arm in the lab. Maybe he isn’t even here.”

“There’s a Chair here — maybe they wiped him, and shipped him elsewhere.”

The woman’s voice was clipped and reserved. But the first voice, the man’s voice — a sense of recognition surged in its gut, coupled with fear. He was an owner, and it was afraid.

The woman breathed a small sigh. “It’ll definitely be harder to trace him without the arm. I don’t think the shoulder socket gives off enough of the energy signature for Tony to track.”

A pause, and then the man’s voice sounds strangled. “Do you think that’s why he ran? Because he knew HYDRA would come for him?”

A small snort. “I don’t think they have that level of technology.” Then, with some hesitation. “It’s possible they have other methods to track him, though.

“God, it’s been three days. I should have let you guys start earlier, but you should have seen Bucky that night, he just wanted to leave…”

Something in it stirred at the name, and it wasn’t just the dog pulling out of its ass. Maybe it was a name that it had been assigned during human training. It always relished those brief moments of being called something beside pup or mutt.

There was another pause as a third voice spoke up. “Well, we got a bunch of training manuals from that room. Let’s take a closer look after we clear this base — we’re getting closer, Steve.”

Steve. The owner’s name was Steve. The name made it want to leap in eagerness, made it want to heel and lick Steve’s shoes. It wiggled its ass a bit, startling the new dog who was fucking it.

By now the humans had gotten close enough that the other dogs could hear and smell them, too. As one, they abandon it and turned to charge at the strangers. It wanted to be a good hound of HYDRA as well, but it was chained and missing a limb, so it could only whine and stay in its assigned position with the few other bad dogs who were too overwhelmed by its scent to rush the strangers.

The humans took down its fellow dogs with surprising efficiency.

“Um, okay, that was special,” said the third person.

“Hmm,” said the woman. “Steve, you might not want to see this.”

“What?” And then “Oh my god.” And then something heavy and metallic clatters to the ground with a reverberating clang.

And then Steve, the owner with the voice that made it want to beg in fear and adoration, the owner that made its insides stir with joy and trepidation, made it want to yelp steve steve steve steve. STEVE came up behind it and *touched* it.

“Oh god, Bucky, what have they done to you?”

(SA) No worries, that’s totally fine! I’m always down for making the humiliation as intense as possible, so non-broken-dick!Bucky it is :D That is.... if I can keep it together long enough to actually write it instead of, uh, jerking off because this prompt is so fucking hot oh my god.

I mean, I’m always game for more of this particular trope, but I also wanted to point you towards Lauralot’s “Alexander Pierce Should Have Died Slower” series because it’s like 200,000 words of almost this exact situation.

But I still encourage other people to fill this prompt. Because I am trash for it.

And yet still I want more, I also want more boy than girl, if I remember right lauralot's masterpiece had more little girl focus.

ffuck i LOVE THIS

No. Wait, that was a different one. Man this trash is so good, still want more of the badwrong ageplay plus touch starvation, most of this epic I am now rereading is recovery, and that is cool, but I want babyboybucky cooing and so eager to do whatever fucked up thing for Daddy, not quietly despairing it like this fic(APSHDS) has.

(OP) HUZZAH. :D I have never actually had a prompt of my own filled on here so I might be doing a little dance at the prospect. (Sorry, Buck!)

One thing I neglected to mention in the original prompt is that I would also be 100% down with some erotic crying. Like, Bucky trying so hard to be strong and brave even while he's having to participate in his own rape and humiliation, but at one point just being so overwhelmed by what's happening that he can't hold back the tears. IF that is a thing you'd be into including.

I'm also a BIG fan of spitroasting, FWIW. And feel free to go as heavy as you're comfortable with in terms of the slut-shaming...I'm a sucker for all the horrible objectifying names.

Just a few additional thoughts in case they're helpful, but honestly I will be thrilled regardless if you do end up filling this in any way whatsoever. <3

New spoiler post will go up as soon as I get out of the movie tomorrow evening. All Infinity War spoilers go in the separate spoiler post until May 26th.

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Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

Re: FILL: The Hands-On Approach (2/2)

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Re: FILL: The Hands-On Approach (2/2)

Re: FILL: The Hands-On Approach (2/2)

Re: FILL: The Hands-On Approach (1/2)

Re: FILL: Touch As Sweet As (1/2)

FILL: Touch As Sweet As (2/2)

Re: FILL: Touch As Sweet As (1/2)

Re: FILL: Touch As Sweet As (2/2)

Re: FILL: Touch As Sweet As (2/2)

Re: FILL: The Hands-On Approach (2/2)

Re: FILL: Touch As Sweet As (1/2)

Re: FILL: Touch As Sweet As (2/2)

Daddy!Kink and super fucked up ageplay style things

Re: Daddy!Kink and super fucked up ageplay style things

Re: Bad Dog [5a/?] Re: don't tell Steve about the dogs

Re: Bad Dog [5a/?] Re: don't tell Steve about the dogs

Re: Deprogrammed Bucky/Hydra, public humiliation and forced orgasm

Re: Daddy!Kink and super fucked up ageplay style things

Re: Daddy!Kink and super fucked up ageplay style things

Re: Steve gets wrecked and punished for "liking it"

Re: Daddy!Kink and super fucked up ageplay style things

Re: Deprogrammed Bucky/Hydra, public humiliation and forced orgasm

Infinity War spoiler policy