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

Holy shit this is so GOOD.

Yeah,I loved this one, but the jealous/oblivious!Steve aspect is interesting, I’d like to see how this’d turn out, although op I’m not sure about the part where peggy is the one to reveal the truth:

Steve excruciatingly slowly figuring it out on his own would maybe make the angst even better? The argument between steve and bucky taking ridiculous proportions, bucky helpless to convince steve of his innocence but obstinately refusing to admit to what happened to him, Peggy desperately urging him to confess but coming short each time....and Steve mostly resenting Bucky as the one who supposedly initiated things/made inappropriate advances as opposed to Peggy....

Okaay, now my scenario seems overkill and hard to believe, I guess it’ll take someone slightly more talented to not make everyone incredibly OOC...in any case I’d love to read your prompt if someone would write it :)

You are seriously a gift to this world omg.

Oh goddddddd Wanda and Clint (and WITH <3) yesssss

The top brass of Hydra have convened for a black tie party to celebrate evil, or whatever. The Asset is brought in to serve as entertainment for the evening.

Basically, I just want a bunch of men in suits subjecting Bucky to whatever casual debasement they desire - groping, stripping, sex shows, you name it.

+ 1 million points if Bucky's uniform for the night is a jock/thong/other kind of slutty underwear.

This is brutal and AMAZING! Holy shit, your voice for Sam is wonderful, thank you for sharing this!

I didn't think this would be my type of thing, but I guess I was wrong because I love it! ;D

This is amazing, you've got me hooked!

That looks like some pretty strong electricity they are zapping him with in TWS. Painful, too.

My needs are simple: A terrified Bucky wetting himself while they are doing it, either from the pain or just straight up fear. Maybe it's before they've got the whole procedure down and have some kinks to work out, so he remembers to fear it? Maybe he isn't fully the Soldier yet and retains more of a sense of shame? Maybe the chair gets permanently stained so they mock him for it the next time they wipe him! (I mean, they could just change the seat, but they are on a budget here and anyway, humiliating the weapon is fun, maybe.)

Bucky's... well, not happy, per se. But content. He's still a dog, but he's traveling with Steve and helping him take down HYDRA bases. And when Steve looks at him, it's not with eyes searching for any hints of recognition, of a shared past. As Betsy, he doesn't have to feel the burden of all those deaths he caused as the Winter Soldier, nor does he feel the burden of having to be Bucky Barnes, decorated war hero and Captain America's best friend. No one's going to try to use trigger phrases on a dog, nor would they put a dog on trial. He can just be there for Steve, plain and simple. And for that, he's willing to trade the inconveniences of a dog's life.

In a way, it's better than putting himself in cryo. He's still paying his penance, in a sense -- HYDRA's taken his life and his humanity, just like he's done to countless others. But this way, he can still help people. And also drink beer.

Barton had some nice beers in his fridge, and now that the kids are asleep, they're all lounging in the living room, drinking. Laura is telling a story about using her CIA training to retrieve a frisbee caught in a tall pine. Steve's never bought any beer while on the road, since it's a waste of time and money. But here -- he's put his open bottle on the ground so that Bucky can reach it. Drinking from the glass bottle wasn't that much harder than drinking from a plastic water bottle, once he figured it out on the third try.

Steve starts talking to Barton about the next bases on his list, and Bucky feels a pang of guilt. He needs to figure out a way to tell Steve that he can stop now, but Bucky can't do so without revealing what's happened to him, and the thought of doing *that* instantly kills any buzz he was getting from the beer.

Back in the lab, when Steve crouched down and called him a good dog, Bucky'd realized the conundrum: he could signal to Steve that he's Bucky, and watch the disgust and horror on Steve's face before Steve abandons him. Or he could stay a dog forever and watch Steve chase after a phantom Bucky. Either way, Steve'd never get his Bucky back, whole and human. (Not that Bucky's been whole and human since 1943.) He'd briefly contemplated just staying in the lab and finding a quiet way to die, but when Steve got up to leave, he couldn't help but follow. Never could stop following the punk.

So now he's here, by Steve's side, drinking beer and swallowing bits of pizza that Steve puts in his mouth, and getting occasional head scratches from Steve. All while Steve worried himself sick about him.

He honestly didn't think that Steve'd run himself ragged chasing after him. After Project Insight, Bucky saw how Steve searched for him, but he figured that Steve'd give up after he read about all of the atrocities that the Winter Soldier had committed. Or maybe after traveling with Wilson for a while. Bucky knew that between his kill count and Steve's new life, he's not worth finding. And after a while, it seemed like Steve did stop. In Bucharest and Berlin, Bucky figured it was Steve's sense of justice: the Winter Soldier should be punished for the crimes he did commit, but the UN bombing wasn't one of them. And then the Winter Soldier's crimes had to take second place to the immediate threat of Zemo. Sure, Steve was happy to see him, but Bucky knew his own worth. Aside from a few worn jokes about Coney Island, he didn't have much to offer except strife and discord.

So when Bucky put the Winter Soldier away in cryo in Wakanda, he'd figured that, sure, Steve'd be sad for a few days. Maybe a week. And then he'd move on. Move in with Wilson, maybe. Reconcile with Stark. Definitely not spend four months methodically taking down every potential HYDRA facility in search of a killer.

Maybe he means more to Steve than he thought.

Maybe Steve wouldn't have given up on Bucky, even if...

No, who's he kidding. Steve's Bucky is gone. Now he's just a bitch with three legs and no tongue. He should tell Steve. Even if it means that Steve will leave him and move on with his life, at least Steve won't be wasting his time on Bucky.

He knows he should have done it much earlier, but he's selfish. But the thing about Steve is -- be around him for long enough, you eventually end up doing the right thing. After they leave the Bartons, then.

Laura is making noises about a group hike tomorrow, and Steve is bidding the Bartons good night. Bucky hurries to finish his beer and follow Steve to the upstairs guest room. It's bedtime, and Bucky tucks his morose thoughts away for now. He needs to savor bedtime, especially if there won't be that many of them left. Bedtime means sleeping next to Steve, which brings back happy memories from before the war, when Bucky was still human. When neither of them had learned how to kill.

Also because...

"Bucky?" Steve's asleep.

"I'm here, Steve," he says as he lays his good arm over Steve's shoulder. It comes out as "aaoom eea, ooeem," but asleep-Steve catches the intonations of Bucky's tongue-less and lip-less guttural hums and mutters happily, "Hey, Buck. I'm happy to see you."

Bucky smiles and says "Me, too." ("ee oo.") Even though talking with sleeping Steve has become a regular occurence, it still feels like a miracle every single time. As if the curses laid on his life have been briefly lifted: he can be the Bucky of Steve's dreams.

Steve frowns. "Buck, you've been here all this time, why didn't you tell me?"

Bucky wonders what kind of dream Steve's having tonight. Not a nightmare, but not something from their youth, either. Bucharest, probably. "I was afraid, Steve."

"Afraid of what? Of HYDRA?" Steve's frown deepens. "Of me?"

"No! Not you." ("ooh! nom oo.") Bucky pauses to figure out his next words. Talking works best if they're short, familiar sentences. "Of what I've become."

"So instead you hide from me and lie to me?" Steve's voice is harsh and accusatory, and his shoulders are sharp and tense under Bucky's arm.

"I'm sorry, Steve." Bucky's heart is pounding fast. How is it that Steve can make his heart hurt and eyes sting even when he's dreaming? Make Bucky blurt out the truth of things that he wouldn't even admit to himself? "I just figured you'd be happier without me." Bucky winces. Maybe the sentence is too long and Steve will just ...

"Happier without you, Buck? What the HELL." Steve is sitting bolt upright, eyes blazing.

Steve. With his eyes open. Looking directly at him.

Shit. Bucky turns tail and runs.

Thanks! Yeah, I didn't think it would be my type of thing either, but somehow the idea wormed into my head and then kept insisting...

unf, seconded, this is totally my kink lately. and yes to the last bonus because horrified reactions from witnesses to trash is my other kink lately.

After a grueling mission that leaves all of the agents exhausted, Pierce thinks everyone did a great job, especially the Soldier. So he sits his expensive suit covered ass in his office chair and tells the Soldier to kneel in front of him. Pierce pets his hair, rubs his shoulders, tells him he's a good boy, stuff like that. But the last thing he does is plant a gentle kiss on his head. And the Soldier comes in his pants just from that.

Neither Steve or Peggy could get Bucky to settle in the darkness just before sunrise, so Peggy injected him with a sedative, trying to ignore the way Steve’s jaw clenched and his eyes glazed when the needle went into Bucky’s straining neck as he shrieked “No!” in both English and Russian. Bucky woke later at ten o’clock that morning, groggy and embarrassed, calling for someone to release him from the bed. Steve did, then escorted him down the hall and waited outside the bathroom door while Bucky bathed and used the toilet. Peggy excused herself to the kitchen to give them some privacy. Eventually, she heard the bathroom door swing open.

“Steve, uh,” Bucky’s voice was soft, but Peggy could hear it from where she stood over the coffee maker. “I think I need some help with- ”

“Oh,” Steve’s voice was louder and Peggy detected a flustered note. “Right, um, hey, Peggy!”

Peggy entered the hallway. Bucky stood in the bathroom door, fully clothed, left arm still completely covered by his shirt and glove, his long hair wet against his scalp. Steve stood against the wall to his right, and both men looked at Peggy.

“What is it, Steve?”

“Can you grab one of my razors for me?”

She looked at Steve for a moment, then back to Bucky. The stubble on his face was getting unseemly long, not that Peggy would have mentioned it. She nodded at Steve and went to fetch a safety razor and some Barbasol from Steve’s section of her vanity. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair and makeup were perfect, but her face looked exhausted, circles under her eyes. It didn’t matter, she reminded herself sternly.

“Thanks.”

Steve took the razor and can from her. Peggy’s questions about how exactly Bucky was going to shave without a reflective surface, and an unwise offer to let him use her vanity mirror, died when Bucky stepped back into the bathroom and Steve followed him. She watched, hovering awkwardly in the hallway, as Steve sprayed shaving cream into his hands and carefully applied it to Bucky’s cheeks. He ran the water in the sink, washing his hands, and leaving the tap on as he skillfully shaved the dark, bristly hair from Bucky’s cheeks, chin, throat, and upper lip. Bucky relaxed into Steve’s ministrations, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as the razor scraped under his jaw. It was beautiful, how much he trusted Steve, and how caring Steve was with him. Peggy was mesmerized by it, and she felt a twinge of jealousy. Not for Steve’s love of Bucky, but of Bucky’s love for Steve.

How odd.

Steve handed Bucky a wet towel when he was done, and Bucky wiped the residual froth and loose hair from his face.

“Thanks, man,” Bucky smiled with gratitude, although he was obviously abashed by his neediness. “Just like in the trenches, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve put the razor under the water for the final time. “Except you were a lousy spot-checker.”

“Gimme a break, there were fucking bombs going off, Rogers! So sorry that I missed a couple hairs under your chin.”

Steve laughed and turned off the water, but Bucky was already looking at Peggy in dismay.

“I’m sorry, ma’am- Peggy,” he dipped his head endearingly. “I shouldn’t be so crass.”

Peggy rolled her eyes at him, chuckling along with Steve.

“I told you, Bucky. I’m not much of a lady.”

He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling, and she bit her lip. Yes, this was good. This was good now, but how soon would it be before it all went bad again?

That afternoon, Peggy made the arrangements for Wednesday from the apartment, speaking as quietly as she could over the phone with Phillips. It took nearly an hour, but by the time she ended the call it was all taken care of to her satisfaction. Then she let Winnie know, listening politely to Winnie’s heartfelt gratitude until George drew her away from the phone, and Peggy breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

Bucky looked up from his place in the early pages of Hangsaman. Steve was in his armchair, engrossed in the primer. Her beautiful boys, reading in the sitting room.

She was thinking of them as her boys. It was frightening in its fragility, but it felt right to her.

“Happy early birthday,” she said in response. “And your mother says ‘hello’ again.”

Bucky smiled wistfully, nodded, and returned to his book. Steve was watching carefully over the top of his page, eyes darting between Bucky and Peggy.

“I need to go to the drugstore,” Peggy announced, yearning for some fresh air. “Anything I can get for you gentlemen? Besides what we discussed last night, Bucky?”

“Nope, ” the corners of Bucky’s mouth twitched. “But when you put it that way, it sounds dangerously scandalous.”

“Don’t get cheeky with me,” Peggy laughed. “How about you, Steve?”

“No, I’m- I’m good,” Steve continued to look back and forth between Bucky and Peggy, baffled. “What did you discuss- ?”

“The cigarettes,” Peggy reminded him. “I told you. Apparently Bucky doesn’t approve of our brands.”

Light dawned in Steve’s eyes and he smiled.

“Well, tell him he can always roll his own if he wants to.”

“Hey, I’m right here, tell me yourself!”

Bucky threw the paperback at Steve. Steve flinched before grabbing the book and flinging it back at Bucky, who caught it deftly by the spine in his gloved hand.

“Boys! Don’t damage my book.”

They both looked at her wide-eyed, like schoolchildren caught playing conkers in the classroom.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbled.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Bucky slipped back into formality.

“Just, behave,” Peggy admonished them with amusement. “At least until I get back, alright?”

They assured her they would, and Peggy stepped out into the entryway to put on her coat. She felt guilty for how badly she wanted to leave, and how Steve had been trapped in the apartment for the last two days without a break. She still needed to tell him about their S.H.I.E.L.D. neighbors as well.

She went out the front door. The snow had been melting as of early March, but there was a bite in the air and dark clouds overhead that told her a late flurry was approaching. She pulled her hat down against a gust of cold wind and hurried to the drugstore, feeling guilty for her desertion, her cowardice, and for how much she dreaded the potential breakdown that might await her upon her return.

It was forty-five minutes later when she came through the front door, a parcel containing a pack of Lucky Strikes, a tin of Aspirin, and a tin of prophylactics clutched under her arm. She paused for a moment in the entryway after she’d removed her coat, gloves, and hat, listening for the sounds of trouble. She heard nothing, so she went into the sitting room to find Steve and Bucky exactly where she’d left them, reading. They greeted her.

“Here, Bucky,” Peggy approached him, unwrapping the parcel to find his cigarettes. “Another early birthday present.”

“You’re too good to me,” he said as he took the pack, so reminiscent of Steve it made her blush. “Thanks, Peggy.”

“You’re very welcome.”

As she fumbled to rewrap the tins everything fell from her hands to the floor. Steve was already on his feet to help, but Bucky was closer. He knelt to retrieve the items, and the heat in her cheeks burned hotter when he picked up the tin of condoms first. Peggy’s embarrassment was short-lived, replaced with unease as Bucky’s eyes widened and his smiling mouth went slack. He stared at the yellow tin, at the voluptuous young woman in a short slip lounging on its lid. Bucky was afraid, and that made Peggy afraid.

“Bucky?”

Steve hadn’t yet realized that something had set Bucky off. He put a hand on Bucky’s right shoulder, to help himself get on his knees to finish picking up the Bayer tin, and Bucky turned on him with a guttural cry. He dropped the condom tin as his left arm came up with a series of whirs and clicks, the fist connecting with Steve’s jaw to send him toppling to the floor. Peggy had already stepped back, her hand reaching for the ever-present tranquilizer gun, resisting the ingrained urge to grab the real pistol concealed lower on her thigh.

“Ne trogay menya!”

Bucky scrabbled backward on the floor from both of them, his back colliding with the bottom of the sofa’s arm. He shrank into the shallow space between that arm and the end table, making the table and its contents wobble dangerously. It was remarkable, Peggy thought as she lowered the tranquilizer slightly, how large Bucky was, yet how small he could make himself as he hid.

“Okay, Buck,” Steve sat up on the floor, rubbing his jaw where Peggy could see a bruise darkening. “No one’s gonna touch you if you don’t want.”

“Ya ne khochu,” Bucky spat, glaring wildly between Steve and Peggy. “You- you tell me that I do, that I want it, but I don’t! Ya ne khochu!”

Steve glanced at Peggy as she glanced at him, never taking Bucky out of her periphery. Steve appeared to have been making good progress with his Russian, and Peggy was proud even as she felt sadness for the pain Steve would gain with his understanding.

“Nikto- ” Steve began, his words falling over each other. “Nikto- nikto ne sobirayetsya, um, yesli ne- razresheniye.”

Peggy wondered if this would make things better or worse. If hearing either Steve or Peggy speak Russian would send him farther off the rails.

“You lie,” Bucky told Steve sullenly. “Vy vsegda lgut.”

“I’m not- Ya ne vru, Bucky. Ya ne vru, Ya obeshchayu tebe.”

“Lozh'.”

“No. Pravda. True. I promise, Bucky. Obeshchaniye.”

Bucky looked at Steve with such hope, and such confusion.

“Kto chert voz'mi Bucky?”

Steve looked at Peggy, not understanding, and she answered.

“You are. You’re Bucky.”

“Stop calling me that! Chto eto ne moye imya.”

“Bucky- ”

“Then what is?” Peggy cut Steve off. “What is your name?”

Bucky looked up at her from the crevice he’d backed himself into. His eyes were narrowed, anger and confusion bleeding into fear when he couldn’t answer her simple question.

“I don’t- sometimes they called me Amerikanskaya and Soldat. When they came for me- to- to use me, they called me Suka, and Shlyukha, and Kiska. I don’t know, which of those sounds most like me?”

Peggy wondered who he thought she was, the way dread permeated his bitterness as he growled out the spiteful words. Who did he think she was, and what did he think she would do to him?

“None of those,” she told him sadly. “That’s not who you are.”

“That’s it then,” Bucky shrugged and the end table lurched again. “I’m no one. Nikto. Sergeant, 32557038.”

“You are someone,” Peggy countered sternly when Bucky didn’t continue the familiar mantra. “You are, and there are a great many people who love you, including Steve and myself.”

“Steve? Steve. I think- Ya dumayu, chto ya yego znayu. Da, Ya yego znayu.”

Steve was sitting on his haunches, rocking slightly with agitation, but he stopped when Bucky said his name and looked at him. Bucky cocked his head slightly, concentrating as he tried to remember. When he did, when his eyes widened in recognition, Peggy’s joy was short-lived as Bucky retreated impossibly further into his tiny crevice. The table, with its lamp and unwanted Carter-family snuff box, toppled with a crash that made all three of them jump.

“God, Steve, don’t look at me,” Bucky put his head in his hands. “I never wanted you to see me like this.”

“Bucky- ” Steve trailed off, horrified.

“I get so confused, Steve,” Bucky muttered through the cage of his fingers, watery blue watching warily between pale skin and dark leather. “And I know- I know that’s my name, but it doesn’t feel like my name. Just like this doesn’t feel like my body, and this doesn’t feel like my life. I know I’m gonna wake up to the dark, and the cold, and the pain, and I don’t want to. I don’t want to wake up.”

“Bucky,” Steve carefully got on his hands and knees, crawling a few centimetres toward him, and Peggy heard the confidence in his voice. “You’re not gonna wake up. I promise you’re not gonna wake up.”

Bucky’s back was pressed against the wall as he huddled against the sofa’s arm. He only had eyes for Steve as he slowly crept forward, but he made no indication that he wanted to run or fight. He just watched, as if resigned to any nightmare that might reveal itself.

“Please don’t let me wake up,” Bucky begged with weary despondency. To whom- to Steve, to God, or to himself- Peggy was uncertain. “Please.”

Steve was so close to Bucky, so dangerously close. Peggy felt a thrill of fear, and she didn’t know what she would do, what she should do, if Bucky were to get violent now.

“You’re not gonna wake up,” Steve repeated soothingly. “You know why?”

Bucky shook his head, chest heaving.

“Because you already woke up, Buck,” Steve sat next to Bucky, where the table had been, pressing gently into Bucky’s right side. “You woke up, and you’re home now. You’re safe now. You’re never going back to that place, and none of those bastards will ever lay a finger on you again, because I won’t let them.”

Bucky slowly brought his hands from his face, turning his head to look at Steve. For one brief, ridiculous, instant Peggy was certain they were going to kiss, and she knew she would be strangely fine with that.

“I want- I want to believe that.”

“Believe it. I’m not gonna fail you again.”

They embraced, Steve holding Bucky’s shuddering body until he calmed. Peggy’s hand relaxed at her side, the tranquilizer pointed at the carpet.

I swear I want this fic to go on for ever and ever.

I love, love your characterization and I'm curious about how the actual relationship/sex will play out.

Oh my god, Bucky talking to Steve in his sleep made my heart hurt so good!

During CATWS after Bucky first recognized Steve ("But I knew him..."), Hydra decides to implant false memories into Bucky's mind as a safety measure. Sort of to ensure that any memories of Steve result in negative connotations for Bucky. So Hydra implants false memories of Bucky being raped, both as the Winter Soldier and as Bucky in the 40s.

To Bucky they feel as real as anything, but because he's so used to being sexually abused, he doesn't question it.

After he's rescued, Bucky never brings it up for fear that Steve will react badly, but he still believes Steve raped him. And everytime they have sex, Bucky has PTSD flashbacks to the rape.

omg i swear, every new update is like my fav. Bucky having a good spell! Bucky having a bad one! Peggy and Steve (and Bucky) persevering! Just everything about this fic. <333

*squees joyfully* I live for these updates.

OK SO Winter Soldier trial is at a standstill and the prosecution is getting really desperate for ANYTHING they can use to get their guy

All the other stuff is either inadmissible (jurisdiction, redacted, statute of limitations, could be explained/proven away, w/e handwave-y stuff) -- basically its actually for the first time in forever maybe looks like Bucky might get a break

BUT somehow some information gets out about how at some point before coming in from the cold the Winter Soldier raped Steve (HYDRA made them do it, conditioning w/e trashy method your heart desires)

So the prosecution decides to subpoena Steve to get him to testify against Bucky but obviously he isn't going to just do it so the obvious solution is this:

- fake marriage time
- claim spousal privilege so that he can't be forced to testify against his husband

very uncomfy fallout ensue, both personally, and in the media, public scrutiny, etc etc, esp since Bucky is still super guilt-ridden about what happened and now he feels worse because Steve has to fall on his sword for him again

BONUS: They are still kinda very uncomfortable around each other because they haven't completely dealt with the emotional fallout from the earlier rape trash

EXTRA BONUS: They were super secret pining for each other forever, but never acted on those feelings and now its REALLY COMPLICATED

TRIPLE WORD SCORE BONUS: While Steve has maybe fooled around a little (after all he's 90, not dead) his first time going all the way was when Bucky raped him so it really sucks

i'm sorry this is really convoluted and long .____.

Okay, so post Hydra trash, Bucky seems mostly himself. But, somehow in this universe the evidence of the sexual abuse was in his files and the Avengers know...in visual detail.

Months later, Bucky starts having a sexual relationship with somebody (I prefer Steve, but I'd be cool with Nat, too, or really anyone potential writers want write).

Anyway, Bucky basically thinks said person is having sex with them out of pity, not love or genuine affection.

- Bonus points if the relationship is kept a secret at first, and Bucky thinks this is because the person is ashamed to be associated with him.

- Double bonus points if the truth comes out when the other party gets serious (ex. proposes, declares their undying love, brings him to meet the family etc).

Anything with Bucky going after Steve in full brainwashed-murderbot mode, except he's all hopped up on aphrodisiacs, so instead of killing Steve he fucks him. Brutally. Over and over and over.

Possible scenarios: Steve's been taken prisoner and his captors set it up deliberately to torture him. Or the Winter Soldier gets sent to kill Steve and there's an accident with chemicals. Or post-TWS Bucky gets sex-pollened and it accidentally triggers his conditioning. Or... use your imagination, I'm here for any version of this premise.

Bonus: Steve is horrified/scared/in agony at first, but ends up getting some kind of contact high off Bucky, and after a while he's even more horrified to find himself enjoying it.

Clint grips her hip again and Wanda feels his sorrow tempered with fondness. He presses forward so slowly he trembles with it, nudging her open millimeter by millimeter, and the vile audience whoops and cheers, voices falling on her like blows. Together, Wanda reminds herself, clinging to Clint's mind as she once clung to Pietro, struggling against herself to relax and let him in.

Clint feels her wince, and pauses with just the head between her nether lips, thinking of pulling back altogether. His hand slides forward, down, fingertips along the margin of her belly. "I could..." he murmurs low, letting her figure out the rest. He could try to please her, make it better, for her sake, therefore for his.

Wanda pulls her mouth into a deliberate smile, though her cheek drags against the crate. She pulls her thoughts together, finding words to reassure him --

"Hey, what's the holdup?" booms over them, shivers through them both; Wanda's gasp crushes her chest on her arms, Clint's hand spasms on her hip. No, she mouths to him, thinks to him. It wouldn't work, would only prolong this pain. It's okay. No.

"Not okay, Clint grits out between his teeth, but he pushes forward, and someone whoops, and Wanda feels her blurry eyes stretch wide at the sheer pushing, tugging sensation of being entered dry and unwilling. An aching moan rises in her throat and she bites her lip to drive it back, to overshadow one pain with another, squeezes her eyes shut and flexes her fingers inside their gloves. Clint exhales long and shuddering, thinking even as he sinks to the root that he's uncertain he can even complete this if all Wanda can do is endure him.

Perhaps she can speed this. Not bothering with words, Wanda offers Clint all the illusion she can produce, safety and a soft mattress, familiar sheets and --

He flinches from the thought. "No," he growls, and again, gently, "no," refusing her offer as she refused his.

"Uh, yeah!" calls the soldier pinning Wanda's left ankle. "Enough sweet nothings! Let's see some fucking!"

Could use a good example flickers through Clint's mind, defiant snideness followed hard by guilt, and Wanda lays the ghost of her hand on his. I'm here with you, kid, he thinks, with the same warmth as the first time he hugged her. Together.

Together, Wanda agrees, and braces as Clint tugs himself out, and breathes as he gets to hit.

He sets a measured pace, and she keeps hold of her breathing and control, though her brain sloshes in her head and red lights flicker behind her leaking eyes. She watches him blank his mind with focus on pure physical movement, pushing away the jeers and hoots outside their tiny dented bubble, and digs herself in as best she can. But his movement is inside her and she can't not feel it, the uncomfortable cycling edge of a rising burn. She can't not feel the crate sticking to her wet face as she's shifted back and forth, back and forth. Shouts and curses and the pressure on her ankles batter at her attempted calm.

At least she's unsurprised. Orphanage or Hydra or these American soldiers, hostile aroused audiences are all alike.

*blushes*

Oh my fellow anon, this will keep me warm when the wind blows all my stuck-together newspapers away!

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Page 37 of 205

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

Re: FILL: Out of the Night, 2/? Re: Wanda in The Raft

Re: Bucky/Hydra (Bucky/Steve(/Peggy?)), Steve is an idiot, (non-con, ptsd)

Re: FILL: Out of the Night, 2/? Re: Wanda in The Raft

Re: FILL: Out of the Night, 2/? Re: Wanda in The Raft

The Asset as a fucktoy at a high-class Hydra party

Re: nothing's good and everything hurts

Re: Hounded [6/8] Re: Body-mod - Hydra slowly turns Bucky into an animal

Wetting in The Chair

Re: Hounded [7/8] Re: Body-mod - Hydra slowly turns Bucky into an animal

Re: Hounded [6/8] Re: Body-mod - Hydra slowly turns Bucky into an animal

Re: ageplay - Steve is a baby

Pierce/Winter Soldier little post-mission reward

Fill: Where Is Thy Sting? (10/?)

Re: Fill: Where Is Thy Sting? (10/?)

Re: Fill: Where Is Thy Sting? (10/?)

Re: Hounded [7/8] Re: Body-mod - Hydra slowly turns Bucky into an animal

Hydra implanted memories of Steve raping Bucky

Re: Fill: Where Is Thy Sting? (10/?)

Re: Fill: Where Is Thy Sting? (10/?)

trashy marriage of convenience

Buck think he's a pity fuck.

Steve/sex-pollened Winter Soldier

FILL: Out of the Night, 3/? Re: Wanda in The Raft

Re: FILL: Out of the Night, 2/? Re: Wanda in The Raft

Re: FILL: Out of the Night, 2/? Re: Wanda in The Raft