trashmod: (Default)
garbage all the way down ([personal profile] trashmod) wrote in [community profile] hydratrashmeme2014-12-07 08:43 am

Dumpster #2: ...'Cause a Hydra Trash Party don't stop

Unholy hell-miracle achieved! Welcome to Bad Guys Do Bad Things To Your Faves 2: Electric Boogaloo. AKA the seamy sexual-violence-and-violent-sex underbelly of Captain America fandom, 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] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by [personal profile] greenkirtle)] [Round 2 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

Round 2 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 3.

Capgras delusion

(Anonymous) 2015-04-08 06:15 pm (UTC)(link)
i.e. the condition where someone believes that a person they know well has been replaced by an identical impostor. I know we've had fics where identity fuckery occurs (Pierce posing as Steve, and Bucky later not trusting that Steve is actually Steve) but have we had outright Capgras yet?

Current theories about causes include damage to the brain's internal memory/representation of a person, so that you can no longer connect their external features with your emotional representation of them. So you recognise that they look, sound, etc. exactly like they should, but they don't feel right.

Apparently there's also a reported case of ketamine being used to induce Capgras in a healthy subject.

This anon is open to pretty much any trashy ideas around the subject, but suggestions include:

- HYDRA intentionally inducing Capgras in Bucky to bypass reservations he might have about assassinating people
- Capgras being an unfortunate side-effect of the brain-wiping process this could go badly for HYDRA if Bucky doesn't recognise his handlers
- Bucky playing along with "fake Steve" because he's scared of what might happen if he doesn't
- Bucky torturing "fake Steve" for information about where "real Steve" is
- ...or of course Steve thinking Bucky is the impostor. And for extra angst, this happening many months after the helicarriers, when Bucky has finally regained enough of himself to go back to Steve. Only for Steve to insist that he's not Bucky.

Happy endings optional, I'm here for torment and angst.

Re: Capgras delusion

(Anonymous) 2015-04-08 07:11 pm (UTC)(link)
Have you seen this one?

http://archiveofourown.org/works/2101002

(Anonymous) 2015-04-09 06:46 am (UTC)(link)
-quietly sets up camp in garbage pile-
Hydra never actually raped Bucky. They made him rape himself.
Any/all trash regulars welcomed with the added level of mind fuckery.

fisting the fist of hydra: round two

(Anonymous) 2015-04-09 08:10 am (UTC)(link)
(partly inspired by the previous comment) so, we had a 'fisting the fist of hydra' prompt a while back, but how about the fist of hydra fisting itself w/ its hydra-given fist? i just want the asset being forced to shove his metal arm up his own ass, plain and simple.

"is that even anatomically possible?"

".....guess there's only one way to find out."

Re: fisting the fist of hydra: round two

(Anonymous) 2015-04-09 11:25 am (UTC)(link)
Comics WS can remove his arm and remote control it. Just sayin'.

WS/Steve, WS ordered to train Steve

(Anonymous) 2015-04-11 12:46 am (UTC)(link)
Steve gets captured by Hydra, and Pierce orders the Winter Soldier to train Steve to become their new superassassin. So, WS tortures/rapes/etc Steve at Hydra's command, and he's ordered to take his mask off while he does it so that Steve knows that it's Bucky.

In the end, the training of Steve Rogers becomes successful.

Bonus: Bucky starts regaining his memories for some whatever reason (maybe they get rescued, or he gets hit on the head really hard, w/e) and he's horrified to realize what he's done to Steve. Steve doesn't remember - all he knows is that he has to follow WS's orders and that WS is his mentor/commanding officer/master/etc

Re: WS/Steve, WS ordered to train Steve

(Anonymous) 2015-05-16 07:01 pm (UTC)(link)
holy fuck yes

Re: WS/Steve, WS ordered to train Steve

(Anonymous) - 2015-06-02 19:28 (UTC) - Expand

Re: WS/Steve, WS ordered to train Steve

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Re: WS/Steve, WS ordered to train Steve

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The super-soldier has a super-sphincter

(Anonymous) 2015-04-11 02:25 am (UTC)(link)
Okay, this is the dumbest thing. Aaand my first prompt here.

I'm just imagining Rumlow and the STRIKE team et al capturing and trying to rape Steve... but failing, because he's clenched too tight for them to actually get in. He is, in fact, just that much of a tightass. And of course he mocks them so much, even though they're probably also waterboarding them and other horrible shit, because, you know, trash.

Bonus points, if they do something that they think knocks him out, and he seems to loosen up enough... only for him to clench down, breaking the person's dick. They probably stop trying after that.

Re: The super-soldier has a super-sphincter

(Anonymous) 2015-04-13 03:32 am (UTC)(link)
Yes totally want this, this is something that's been running through my mind while thinking about these prompts.

Ruined gloves

(Anonymous) 2015-04-11 05:08 am (UTC)(link)
Someone, or several someones, in full leather gloves which get thoroughly ruined by the trash party du jour. Shiny, wet, skintight gloves, slippery with come and leaving streaks of filth everywhere they go. Additional leather ie. boots, cuffs, collars and leashes are also good.

Re: Ruined gloves ART FILL

(Anonymous) 2015-04-11 06:56 am (UTC)(link)
http://feanorinleatherpants.tumblr.com/post/116095232305/in-trashchat-there-was-a-discussion-of-leather

Rumlow and a captured post-catws Bucky - hair pulling, leather gloves, boots, and Rumlow's fragile masculinity.

Fill: Revenge [1/1]

(Anonymous) - 2015-04-11 08:06 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Fill: Revenge [1/1]

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Re: Fill: Revenge [1/1]

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Winter Soldier/Madame HYDRA, Femdom

(Anonymous) 2015-04-11 11:44 pm (UTC)(link)
I'd write my own prompt, but apparently I'm incapable so I wrote the fill first.

Winter Soldier/Madame HYDRA femdom. Have some dessert, Soldier.

Content notes: (extremely) dubious consent, femdom, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, orgasm delay/denial, face-sitting, comeplay, voyeurism, canon-typical violence, minor character death

Also posted over on AO3, but if you wanna keep your pseud clean here it is --

*and for the love of doge, other femdom fills are MORE than welcome, pretty pretty PRETTY please

[FILL 1/?] Re: Winter Soldier/Madame HYDRA, Femdom

(Anonymous) 2015-04-11 11:45 pm (UTC)(link)
***

Columbus, OH
December 21, 1979


"Ah, Ophelia." Pierce nodded, deliberately not offering a hand to shake. "You look lovely. Very festive." She really did. Her penchant for green for once suited the occasion, and in her tall boots she had several inches on him. The crossed bandoliers slung over her hips only detracted somewhat from the party atmosphere.

"Alexander." She eyed the sprig of mistletoe pinned to his lapel distastefully.

"Enjoying the decorations?"

"Hardly," the Viper rolled her eyes. In a burst of holiday whimsy, or possibly a wish for death, as Pierce imagined they might now be bleeding out on the hallway carpet, some brave soul had given her a crown of holly. It slipped down low where her bangs fell across the left side of her face.

Ophelia Sarkissian -- the Viper, Madame Hydra, ruler of Madripoor, although Pierce wasn't sure of the current legality of that last one -- surveyed the oak-panelled drawing room with disdain. Bureaucrats, low-level politicians, and a smattering of personnel from various agencies nattered away at each other, sipping mulled wine and getting sticky fingerprints all over the historic display items and assorted taxidermy. In the dim lighting, the grime from decades of neglect didn't detract much from the nineteenth-century version of opulence. It was all very dated.

Novelty headwear aside, Pierce thought, Sarkissian was in a strange mood. It was unusual for her to make an appearance at such a low-level function, and unheard of for her to rub elbows (metaphorically at least; Pierce assumed anybody who accidentally touched her would instantly burst into flames) with all these nobodies. It irritated him, to be lumped in the same category as their host -- director Powell from the state Commerce department, who presumably had arranged the Norman Rockwell Christmas nightmare that had defiled every static object in the room -- and the other entrenched old-timers who lived off of the graft and corruption afforded by their positions. Using HYDRA to secure their power and influence, but lacking the vision to crack the world open and reshape it for the better. Pierce could do so much better.

A ripple of laughter was followed by a shriek of pain from across the room, where stockings were hung by the fire with care. Pierce ignored the commotion. He wasn't here for the entertainment, such as it was. The rabble had enough sense to to stay the hell away from the Viper, at least. The place was packed but there was six feet of empty space around them in all directions.

The crowd swirled around them, a galaxy rotating around its center. "I hear you brought your pet with you, Ophelia. How charming. How's the weather in Kabul this time of year?"

Sarkissian's mouth quirked up in an almost-smile. "Colder than Caracas, although I'm sure El Gocho would take care of you. Which of the Twelve Apostles are you, again?"

Pierce smiled back politely. "I prefer to think of myself as an apostle to the apostles."

"Well then, Magdaleñe," she emphasized the palatal nasal, "You have your work cut out for you. Nationalization has not been a popular idea. The Baron thinks you do not consider the history of our organization."

"And what do you think, Madame?"

She shot him a sharp look. "You know I approved it. Without taking some risks, we'll never progress. I'm looking to the future, not trying to relive past glory. Socialism, communism, democracy, whatever gets the job done. It's all the same to me."

"Change is rarely comfortable." Pierce paused, and inclined his head towards hers. "The organization is stagnant." He swept a hand to encompass the dated room. A basement in downtown Columbus was hardly the seat of power. "Is this all there is? Is this all we can accomplish?"

Her lip curled in disgust. "It sickens me on a profound level," she said in a tight voice. "My entire life dedicated to an ideal that is being twisted into itself by selfish amateurs. Now HYDRA has become a group without meaning or purpose. Not being able to adapt itself to the future."

Pierce saw his opening and didn't hesitate. "HYDRA needs new blood. New ideas. Men of vision--"

"--and women," Sarkissian interjected.

"And women," Pierce agreed, "with the courage to take action."

"Yes." She paused, scanning the room. "Director Carter has us all at a standstill if we continue to do nothing. Sitting around waiting for her to retire is not a viable strategy."

"Neither is turning everybody in Washington into snakes …"

Sarkissian waved a hand irritably at the jibe. "R&D needs a new vision, too. This isn't a comic book."

"Oh, I'll have you know I drank bottled water for a month after that meeting. It was very threatening, real super-villain stuff." Pierce winked.

Sarkissian snorted despite herself. "Regardless. We have better weapons than this. Better people than this." Her eyes roved over the crowd, assessing. Judging. Finding them wanting.

"I'm cutting away the dead wood. Bear me some fruit, my little Magdaleña, and I'll ensure your seeds are planted in the best soil." Sarkissian adjusted the mistletoe pinned to his lapel. "I like this. It's a parasite and the berries are poisonous, but people think it's romantic." She gave him a meaningful look. "You should leave."

Pierce swallowed. "Are you here long?"

"A few hours at most," she said, distant. "I have business tonight and then I'm needed elsewhere. The Soviets go to war in a few days, and he comes with me," nodding at the Soldier by the fireplace. "Some weapons are best fired personally."

Pierce raised his champagne flute to her sardonically. "To war," he said.

"To victory."

*

[FILL 2/?] Re: Winter Soldier/Madame HYDRA, Femdom

(Anonymous) - 2015-04-11 23:46 (UTC) - Expand

[FILL 3/?] Re: Winter Soldier/Madame HYDRA, Femdom

(Anonymous) - 2015-04-11 23:46 (UTC) - Expand

[FILL 4/6] Re: Winter Soldier/Madame HYDRA, Femdom

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[FILL 5/6] Re: Winter Soldier/Madame HYDRA, Femdom

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[FILL 6/6] Re: Winter Soldier/Madame HYDRA, Femdom

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Re: [FILL 6/6] Re: Winter Soldier/Madame HYDRA, Femdom

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Re: [FILL 6/6] Re: Winter Soldier/Madame HYDRA, Femdom

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Re: [FILL 6/6] Re: Winter Soldier/Madame HYDRA, Femdom

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Re: [FILL 6/6] Re: Winter Soldier/Madame HYDRA, Femdom

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Bucky has a pisskink

(Anonymous) 2015-04-12 10:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Bucky gets inexplicably turned on by memories of HYDRA punishing him by forcing him to wet himself. He's in recovery and he's been sleeping with Steve, but he's too ashamed to tell anyone because he's worried that they'll think he enjoyed it.

Re: Bucky has a pisskink

(Anonymous) 2015-04-12 11:22 pm (UTC)(link)
oh, hello there.

Re: Bucky has a pisskink

(Anonymous) - 2015-04-13 01:07 (UTC) - Expand

Bucky erases his own memory

(Anonymous) 2015-04-12 10:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Bucky is doing really well after coming in; he's healthy, happy enough, working on what it means to be a person. The only catch is that no matter how much time goes by, he never regains a scrap of memory. But Steve's learning to live with that, and everybody's doing okay.

Until they find and empty out another abandoned Hydra base, and it turns out that Bucky had been visiting that base, on a weekly basis, to use their chair. Because before he let Steve bring him in, he had recovered all his memory, and found he couldn't cope with all the torture, rape, and other indignities Hydra put him through. Because of comic book science, he can set the chair to only erase memories from before a certain point (like coming in from the cold), but the only way to keep the Hydra memories from resurfacing is to sacrifice his pre-Hydra memories along with them.

Re: Bucky erases his own memory

(Anonymous) 2015-07-10 07:57 pm (UTC)(link)
This could be such a beautifully sad and heartbreaking story. Maybe someday I will try my hand at it if it continues to languish untouched in the dumpster. Right now, though, I have too many other things on my plate, and I don't even know if I'd be able to do this justice.

It is a beautiful prompt, though.

Bucky wants to talk about it, but can't

(Anonymous) 2015-04-13 01:28 am (UTC)(link)
We've had a ton of amazing fills around the idea that Bucky wants to hide his sexual abuse, but as I was pondering my love for that scenario, I thought: what if it was the exact opposite?

So Bucky's in therapy, and he finds it really helpful, he's really improving. He's gotten to the point where he feels the strong need to start talking through the sexual parts of his experience with Hydra. Only to find that he literally cannot. Maybe, throughout the entirety of or at some early point during his captivity, sexual congress with the asset was strictly forbidden, and in order to save their own skin, someone who raped him conditioned him to never tell a soul. All these years later, that lesson is still sticking around.

I am here for lots of pain as Bucky tries to get help for what happened to him, either from therapists or his closest friends, without being able to say a word about it.

+ Maybe he can still talk about his feelings re: his sexual assaults, so he spills his heart out and hopes someone realizes he was raped

+ People do figure out he was raped, but because he's so terse whenever the subject is broached, they assume he doesn't want to talk about it

+ Painful awkwardness: Bucky resorting to things like drawings or, hell, even charades as he tries to explain what happened

+ Bucky not only needs to unburden the weight of the secret off his chest, he also has to untangle a lot of feelings and ideas, like shame, self-blame, and self-doubt, and he wants to work through these issues with someone he trusts... but this would be a fraught experience even if he could actually talk about it

Re: Bucky wants to talk about it, but can't

(Anonymous) 2015-04-13 04:56 am (UTC)(link)
YES

Re: Bucky wants to talk about it, but can't

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Re: Bucky wants to talk about it, but can't

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Re: Bucky wants to talk about it, but can't

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Bucky/anyone, revenge fisting

(Anonymous) 2015-04-13 08:27 am (UTC)(link)
This was supposed to be a fill for http://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/587.html?thread=66635#cmt66635 but it went waaay off the rails in terms of 'consensual fantasies'. But hey, if anyone else is interested in 'revenge fisting' as a prompt, I know I'd sure be interested in reading it.

Includes: torture, stoicism, a desk

For old times' sake - Bucky/Rumlow, complete

(Anonymous) 2015-04-13 08:34 am (UTC)(link)
Rumlow comes to in a dingy windowless room; an abandoned office, he thinks, or an unused storage space. There's not much of a view from the heavy executive desk he’s tied down on. He yanks at the cord holding his wrists to the desk's legs; there's no give and the desk barely shifts. On the heels of that realization is the knowledge that he's not wearing pants anymore, and his legs - just as tightly bound to the other side of the desk - are starting to ache from the strain of being held so far apart. He must've been out for a while. Behind him is a rustle of clothing and the occasional heavy footfall. He grits his teeth at the irritation of having lost a fight and getting dragged off like a sack of potatoes.

The air shifts behind him as his captor approaches the desk. Rumlow snorts in annoyance. “Real original, pal, but if you wanted any of the good stuff you should've gone for - ” His words are cut short by a vicious smack on his ass. In the short seconds after while he catches his breath, the hand - that was a hand, he thinks, not a plank of wood, what the hell - returns to grip his ass in a bruising hold, and he realizes just how fucked he is. That hand is very, very cold, and it shifts in small unsettling tics as it digs into the meat of his left asscheek. If the soldier went to the trouble of bringing him here alive, there's only one thing he could be looking for, and it's not weapons or intel. Still, he tries his best, as his heartrate rises and sweat prickles down his spine. “Gonna give me a taste of my own medicine? Didn't think you had it in you.” Turning his head to the side gets him a good view of his own shirt - the soldier is out of his line of sight. Might be better if he doesn’t have to look at the guy, anyways. “Y'know, it's always better when you share, and I don't see any of your friends hangin' around here. Managed to slip their leash as well?”

The only response is a cold metal digit pressing into his asshole, and he steadies his breathing. His awkward position leaves his head hanging over the edge of the desk, and his face is getting warm from that settling blood. This sort of thing stopped bothering him ages back; Hydra trains its agents to work under any conditions, and torture’s not even the worst. He’s personally sent the soldier into corridors thick with nerve gas with nothing more fancy than his muzzle. Rumlow grins at the memory of the soldier’s pained faces and groaning. “Hey, remember when we - ” The soldier backhands him so hard that something in his neck crackles, and says “Shut your face, Rumlow,” with curt irritation. Rumlow figures that shutting his face might save him some concussion damage. Good thing, too, because the finger in his ass is not making it easy to think straight.

The dry, unforgiving stretch keeps going until it can't go any further, and he grits his teeth against the burn. It starts to push and pull in a steady rhythm at his hole, making the burning worse and sending a sick jolt to his gut at the unnatural feel of it. The finger pulls out of him and another takes its place, longer and thinner and fucking cold again. Dammit, he thinks, that first one had almost been lukewarm, and now it’s gonna be the same process all over again. The finger prods at his insides and then crooks, pulling at the side of his hole. It doesn't get very far, and the burning spikes into a sharp prickling ache that he really doesn't want to think about. This time when it pulls out it hurts just as much as when it went in, and he feels a second fingertip work its way in next to the first, flexing lightly at his hole, trying to get it to fit around two unyielding goddamn spikes, which it won't, not without tearing. He is a little surprised when they stay where they are instead of reaming him out; does the soldier want him in one piece here? It shouldn't matter once he sticks his dick in. Rumlow knows he's got a decent-sized cock, but it's nothing he couldn't handle. Eventually the two fingers start to work their way in in increments, the metal banding a sharp catch every time an edge slides in. His ass is going to be chewed up like ground meat by the time the soldier gets this over with. As the fingers sink in to the second knuckle, he has to squash his pride down and start taking deep breaths. The pressure and burning has become a hot throbbing pain, the small cuts and tears a brighter agony against the background. He breathes through his nose and grinds his teeth together.

When the third finger comes into play he starts to get confused. He's seen the soldier's dick in a lot of different situations, and there's no way it should be taking him this long. Is this the point, then? He's going to get fingerfucked by the soldier until, what, the soldier gets off or gets bored and leaves him tied up in here, his ass sore and bleeding, for the rest of the team to stumble on later? What a waste. His eyes are starting to water from the pressure, which is reasonable considering the soldier never lets up. He's trying to remember if he's ever seen the soldier exhibit signs of 'imagination' when he realizes the renewed pressure is coming from the fact that the soldier is cramming four fingers up his ass, and the thumb is poking his abused rim like it wants in on the action. That’s nearly the entire hand, he thinks, the weight and displacement settling into his gut and making his stomach heave. Somehow it manages to get worse, and Rumlow's certain that he's being torn open on the fucking Fist of Hydra as the soldier gradually forces the width of his knuckles through the screaming agony that’s taken the place of Rumlow’s lower half. The metal hand slows as more of the palm and wrist slide in, and hot and cold chills wash over him as he registers the sick sensation of the soldier's hand flexing and adjusting inside him. There's no time for him to get his bearings before the goddamn hand curls in on itself, and the invasive stretch gets worse as it forms into a fist and shifts around to settle against his prostate.

Rumlow makes a dedicated attempt at controlling his stomach, but the pressure of the desktop is not helping. Every part of his body rebels at the feeling of the massive object twitching back and forth in his wrecked ass. His eyes are watering harder now, and he angles his face back toward the desktop in frustration. He’d give anything to kick, to spit, to drive his head back into the soldier’s stupid face and smash his nose to a pulp. The soldier grabs Rumlow’s hip with his free hand and pins him solidly against the edge of the desk. Without any leeway to flinch or shift around, all he can do is lie there and feel it as the fist pulls against the resistance of his swollen, stinging hole and then thrusts back in again. The soldier sets up a continuous slow rhythm, inward strokes grazing against his prostate to send a jolt of muted, uncomfortable sensation through his groin. Once he starts to get a handle on the pulling and squishing sensations in their constant, nauseating pace, he realizes with a sort of absent dismay that the friction on his prostate is not letting up. His dismay gives way to a creeping horror as he feels his dick begin to stir. The hell is this shit, he thinks in suppressed panic. Every muscle draws tight as he tries to hold himself rigid, as though holding himself in stillness might keep his traitorous dick from doing anything.

The soldier must have been doing that on purpose, because as soon as he notices that Rumlow’s tensed up he lengthens his slow strokes in and out, so that Rumlow can feel each knuckle dragging over and back in a neverending grind. He huffs against the surface of the desk, feeling his own breath washing over himself and making his face even hotter. There's sweat dripping off the end of his nose and skittering down his back and sides. His shirtfront must be sticking to the fucking desk by now. He feels his half-hard cock brush against the surface with every thrust and desperately tries to figure out how long it would take him to get off from this. That must be the point. The soldier might be several cards short of a deck but he'd always been task-oriented. It's still going to take way too long for Rumlow’s preference. He swallows down bile and tries not to groan.

When the soldier lets go of his hip he barely registers it in the midst of every other hideous sensation. He does take notice when something nudges up beneath his balls and starts to - he doesn't know what it's doing. Frankly, he doesn't want to. An audible electric hum sets his teeth on edge as his nerve endings crackle. The pleasure crawls through him from the center out, making his balls draw tight, until he's hard and pulsing and starting to drip precome all over himself. The head of his cock is rubbing constantly against the desk, the friction eased slightly by the come smeared everywhere. Rumlow curses every superior officer he's ever had for getting him to this specific time and place. He's going to get off on this, and he's going to chafe his dick raw on this shitty miserable piece of furniture, and he can't feel anything below his waist more specific than 'fiery inferno of misery'. His hips and knees have long since cramped into their current arrangement; he'll have to drag his sorry carcass out of here on his elbows, if he can manage to get free.

He's on the very edge of coming, unable to focus on anything but his rising gorge and the pressure in his balls and the relentless ache in his ass, when the thing on his balls presses into his taint and a vicious, biting shock rips through him. His body spasms hard enough that he wrenches his neck and something tears in his left shoulder. As his sparking vision clears he feels more come trickle down to his balls, still as hard as before but knocked back from the hair-trigger edge of orgasm. The churning in his ass is now an ugly, sucking pull. The bastard's going to turn me inside out, he thinks; it feels like all of his organs are getting dragged out through his asshole as the soldier pulls his arm free. He's been scraped raw and stinging by the shifting metal plates, and without that goddamn hand taking up space he is ragged and hollow. Wetness dribbles out of him and drips slowly onto the carpet. His own come and blood are trickling over his sack in a cooling, itchy mess. He wonders absently if he'll be able to stand wearing pants to get out of here, and then remembers with impotent fury that he doesn't even know where his pants are.

Behind him he can hear the soldier moving around. His hardon slides wetly against the desk as he tries to get his leg muscles working again. Dragging his face out of the pool of spit and sweat in front of him, he slurs out “Just like old times, huh? Taught you pretty good.” He wipes his face off as well as he can manage on his shoulder. “Tried that one out on Rogers yet? Bet he's a real - ” The soldier grabs the back of his head and slams his chin into the desk.

When Rumlow's head clears and he's spat out a few chips of tooth, he finds a quietly hissing handset next to his face. The soldier is no longer in the room. A strip of tape is holding down the call button so he’ll have to beg for help without any idea who’s on the other end of the line. He coughs to clear his throat and hopes it's on the right channel - or any channel at all, for that matter. His team would never report back from a mission without their commander. They’re capable agents; they know their place. As long as Westfahl's not the first one to show up, he thinks. Christ, anything but that.

Re: For old times' sake - Bucky/Rumlow, complete

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Re: For old times' sake - Bucky/Rumlow, complete

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Re: For old times' sake - Bucky/Rumlow, complete

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Bucky Rapes Steve; Double the Trauma

(Anonymous) 2015-04-14 07:11 am (UTC)(link)
Bucky has become so conditioned and mindbroken by HYDRA's repeated rapes that he becomes physically addicted to being fucked, with all the shame and internalized self-loathing that comes with it. At this point Steve and him aren't lovers or they're not having sex, so first he tries to hide it from Steve and stave it off by fingering himself or using dildos and sex toys in private but it's not good enough without an actual person doing the penetrating. Eventually he snaps and forces himself onto Steve by riding him, and everything goes to hell.

Now Sam and Nat have to deal with twice the traumatized nonagenarian super soldiers since they've now also got Steve who has to deal with the trauma of being raped himself on top of the painful realization at the fucked up shit HYDRA put Bucky through. And of course Bucky's own issues are now worsened by his guilt over what he did to Steve.

Ponyplay

(Anonymous) 2015-04-14 11:17 am (UTC)(link)
Give me all the complicated leather bondage, whips, "training" accessories, and the asset decked out like Pierce's pretty little show pony (how 'good' he is at being a pony is up to you). Pierce uses the asset like a horse, then rides him hard and puts him away wet.

FILL: Hunter Class [1/3]

(Anonymous) 2015-04-15 11:58 pm (UTC)(link)
***

The Secretary was a man with strange interests.

Brock Rumlow was a city kid raised by a mom who had struggled to keep the power on, much less buy her kids a goddamn pony, and he'd never understood the fascination some people had with horses. The were big and shifty and liable to kick you in the balls or trample you, not even for looking at them the wrong way or being an asshole, but for no fucking reason at all, so he viewed them with a healthy skepticism. Plus, they made him sneeze.

After delivering Pierce's birthday present, Rumlow walked back out to his car along the sunny, treed walking path that led to the equestrian center. A man swept past him in show hunter attire, shiny black boots and all, leading a tall bay stallion out towards the dirt field full of jumping obstacles. The man didn't acknowledge him at all, merely clucked at his horse to ignore the interloper. "Come now, Augustus, walk." No eye contact, not even a nod. Even the horse had his nose up in the air. Rumlow in his civvies might as well not exist. Fuckin' rich people.

Rumlow had considered sending Mercer to act as courier for the asset, but the unholy light in her eyes when he'd said the word "pony" had been, frankly, kind of terrifying. The asset came back from these sessions with Pierce already traumatized enough, he didn't need to be put through Mercer's horse obsession on top of that. Murphy had claimed that equestrian sports were unjust and species-ist in some kind of convoluted vegan logic Rumlow couldn't follow, and refused to step foot on the property. Anders was busy hosting her two elderly great-aunts for a multi-day recipe exchange and baking extravaganza and thus exempt for reasons of protecting the supply line that provided STRIKE's elite-level pastries. Rollins had dealt with the fallout from that horrible squid incident the month before, which they still all remembered with such visceral disgust that even Brock agreed it wasn't fair to dump a new clusterfuck in his lap again so soon. Jack had laughed and laughed and laughed when the mission dossier hit Rumlow's desk.

Their mission, whether they accepted it gracefully or not: make Pierce's birthday special.

Well, objective one achieved. There was nothing to do now but wait. If this was anything like last year, it was gonna be at least a couple of hours.

Fuck it, he was taking a nap in his car.

*

The asset shifted nervously from foot to foot. No, hoof to hoof. His mission was to pretend, and ponies had hooves, which meant he was shifting from hoof to hoof, standing on the clean dirt fill of the indoor arena. The boots kept his feet arched unnaturally, balanced up on his toes, and the precarious footing ironically made it that much easier to mimic the dainty footsteps of the flighty, poorly-trained pony the Secretary assured him he was.

The touch of the lunge whip on his hip made the asset startle, the tiny bells clamped to his chest chiming musically as he danced away. It was difficult enough to resist the urge to bolt when he was being driven on the long line, but going around and around in circles on the lunge line was maybe worse. Between the uncomfortable tack and the endless circling, he felt he was slowly going mad.

"Ugh, he's still so skittish," a man's voice echoed through the riding arena. "Try not to frighten him, remember your voice aids."

After their first disastrous ground work session, the trainer had attached blinders to the asset's bridle to help keep him from shying at the sight of every new tool that appeared in his master's hand. The trainer assured Pierce that he was so highly-strung it was for the best, even if it mostly hid his pretty blue eyes.

Pierce clucked at him encouragingly and drew the whip along beside the asset's hip, tip pointing towards the ground. "Walk," he said, drawing the vowel sound out and inflecting his voice upwards. "And, ter-rot." The voice command for 'trot' had two syllables, so the asset could not pretend to confuse it with 'walk'.

"Contact, watch your mouth contact," the trainer said to Pierce. "There, that's better. Ask him to stretch out a little, now."

The asset felt a little slack on the line, and relaxed his aching neck and shoulders gratefully as he jogged in a circle, the bells on his nipple clamps ringing at each footfall. His arms had been pinioned behind his back for over an hour, and it was beginning to interfere with his concentration. He was probably strong enough to tear through the tightly-laced sleeves along with the rest of his bindings, but he had been ordered not to interfere with his tack. The equipment needed for this mission was extensive: in addition to the boots, bridle, and arm-binders he also wore a chest harness and martingale. A thick plug settled in his ass anchored a false horse's tail, and his cock and balls were tightly wrapped in several yards of stretchy latex wrapping. The martingale connected the metal o-ring around the base of his genitals to his bridle; he had to be careful not to move too sharply or he'd yank on himself painfully.

"Reverse," Pierce said. The lunge whip was still behind his hip, though, so the asset balked.

"No, come on now, we went over this already." Pierce was not always the most patient of drivers. It was good that the trainer was there to help this time. Their first session had not gone well.

"Body position," the trainer reminded him. "Get even with the shoulder line. Yes, there."

Through the blinders, the asset watched as well as he could as Pierce shifted the line and whip to the opposite hands and gave the command again. "Reverse," he said, this time with his body positioned correctly and the whip in front of the asset's chest. Pierce put pressure on the line, pulling the asset's head inward to begin the turn.

"Much better," the trainer said. "Practice a few more times, then walk him around the ring a few times to cool off. Don't overwork him."

Pierce drove the asset through a final series of gait changes and reversals until he was satisfied with their progress for the day. "That's fine, that's good enough. I still have that dinner at eight, we'd better call it a day."

The trainer eyed the asset critically. He was streaked with dirt and sweaty under all of his tack, panting through flared nostrils while he waited. "Shall I put him away for you?"

"No, just get his stall ready, I want to groom him myself today."

FILL: Hunter Class [2/3]

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Electro-ejaculator

(Anonymous) 2015-04-14 04:49 pm (UTC)(link)
I don't know if that's legit, but let's say it is, because I want Hydra to try that out on one (or both) of our lovely super-soldiers.

Semi-NSFW link: http://41.media.tumblr.com/64cac32067c66cc42d2ba78a9f67dafb/tumblr_mlij8vUDg51s1x4mso1_1280.jpg

Re: Electro-ejaculator

(Anonymous) 2015-05-03 11:08 pm (UTC)(link)
SEMI-nsfw? Where the hell do you work?!

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Cock Cage

(Anonymous) 2015-04-15 12:34 am (UTC)(link)
In order to keep him from getting distracted, Hydra kept the Winter Soldier in a cock cage/whatever kind of chastity device author wants while on his missions. ALL of his missions. Including the one where he went to save the Project Insight helicarrier and ended up wandering off. For whatever reason, he doesn't remove it himself (maybe he physically can't, maybe he doesn't want to, maybe he's so used to it it never even occurs to him to do so). Cue however much time later, he's back with Steve and Steve finds out. When and how is up to author, I just want Steve finding out that not only was Bucky kept in this thing while with Hydra, he's had it on the whole time he's been away from them as well.

Re: Cock Cage

(Anonymous) 2015-04-15 01:06 am (UTC)(link)
anon, i love you and i want this desperately

Fill: Body Shy

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Fill: Body Shy, Part 2 (smoll continuation)

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Pierce/Bucky, threatened bestiality

(Anonymous) 2015-04-16 07:18 pm (UTC)(link)
Loosely inspired by this fill over here http://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/1504.html?thread=2049760#cmt2049760, I now have a desperate need for the Soldier failing a mission and Pierce punishing him by fucking him with a big horse dildo, while telling him that if he doesn't complete his next mission, then next time it's going to be a real horse.

Re: Pierce/Bucky, threatened bestiality

(Anonymous) 2015-04-16 08:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Yessss

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(Anonymous) 2015-04-17 12:49 am (UTC)(link)
Inspired by a prompt above:


Bucky tries to talk about his abuse but can't. physically and psychologically. If HYDRA had the ability to make him learn new languages, they have the ability to take them away. In addition to taking away his ability to speak, maybe they also find some way to program it so that every time he tries to talk about what happened he has severe flashbacks, fear response, etc.

Optional: they damage his vocal cords so he literally can't talk. Or cut out his tongue

(Anonymous) 2015-04-17 01:17 am (UTC)(link)
Oh my god yes. Yes PLEASE.

Dehumanizing body modification used on the WS is like crack to me

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Steve/Bucky, Bucky succeeds in pleasing his new handler

(Anonymous) 2015-04-17 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
Inspired by this lovely line discussing an averted scene in 'Windmills': "Steve’s breakdown when he comes to from the the best orgasm he’s had since 1944 to Bucky asking if that was good enough to warrant anesthetics next time the doctors call for him"

Bucky believes that Steve is his handler, but has figured out that calling Steve that is misbehavior. Steve takes this change as a sign that Bucky actually views him as an equal. Bucky comes on to Steve in hopes of getting a favor (more regular meals, permission to leave the apartment by himself long enough to get the mail from the mailbox, etc.), but waits to ask until after the sex Steve will be more relaxed. They have what Steve assumes is consensual sex, and then Bucky asks.

Mostly what I'm looking for is the sex actually happening before Steve realizes what's wrong.

Bonus: When Steve gets upset, Bucky backtracks saying "Of course just one time isn't enough to earn that privilege, but now you know how good I can be for you, so maybe I can earn it a week or two?"

Re: Steve/Bucky, Bucky succeeds in pleasing his new handler

(Anonymous) 2015-04-17 02:57 am (UTC)(link)
oh man I need this so bad I'm crying. please trash angels, take pity

FILL: the hunger that drives us [1/?]

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Hydra being homophobic trash

(Anonymous) 2015-04-17 07:46 pm (UTC)(link)
So um. Here's something a little different than the usual trash party fare. Mostly because I have such a Thing for bad guys ruining good things.

It's been noted by more than one person in the past that Bucky and Steve lived in (or at least near) a pretty queer neighborhood back in old-timey Brooklyn, so what if they were both a part of the queer community and pretty unashamed of the fact that they're both ridiculously bisexual? Then during the war, when the Commandos found out, they were pretty ok with things too.

Then Bucky gets captured by HYDRA, an offshoot of the nazis, and they are most definitely Not Ok with homosexuality. Maybe they find out because early in Bucky's training, when he was loosing his memories but not quite the soldier yet, he tried to get close to some of his male handlers/got aroused by something they did/I don't know. But they did find out, and they figured it was just another thing they had to break him of. Cue loads of aversion therapy and corrective rape (from female handlers, male handlers who are totally manly just doing it for power totally Not Gay themselves they /swear/, or a mix of both) that leaves Bucky fifty shades of ashamed and messed up any times he feels even the remotest flicker of desire for a man.

All that may or may not explicitly make it into the fic; the fic I want is the flash forward to post-WS Bucky who has been found by Steve and now has to deal with all the shame and horror of the things they used to do, while Steve is confused and hurt by how grossed out Bucky is any time they see anything about anything queer in the new century.

I just want all the Out and Proud queer-friendly punk Steve who's so much happier now that he's got his old super queer best pal back, and has no idea how to deal with sad-ashamed-trash-survivor!Bucky.

Re: Hydra being homophobic trash

(Anonymous) 2015-04-19 04:28 pm (UTC)(link)
Holy shit this prompt alone slayed me. someone write this pls

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Trash Party Aftermath

(Anonymous) 2015-04-17 09:02 pm (UTC)(link)
What happens after a trash party? Does HYDRA have doctors who's job it is to patch up the Asset after trash parties? People to clean him up and wipe him down? They'd probably want to wash any come and/or blood out of his hair before wiping him, so as not to get it on their machines.

Basically I want fucked up HYDRA "aftercare" for the Winter Soldier.

++Bonus points for tension between different HYDRA techs, because one of them thinks his rotten banana peels are a healthy dinner for two and that he's being sweet, while the other one wishes his partner would stop being a freak and just get on with the job.

Rumlow was always nice to the asset

(Anonymous) 2015-04-17 09:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Didn't take part in the trash parties and would help him clean up afterwards, gave the asset part of his chocolate bar a couple of times, etc, and the asset seemed to like Rumlow as much as he could like anybody. Now Rumlow's really hurt and confused by Bucky coming after him for revenge. Doesn't he remember how nice Rumlow was to him?

Re: Rumlow was always nice to the asset

(Anonymous) 2015-04-19 04:28 pm (UTC)(link)
Hmm....not quite sure this is the aesthetic the trash party is going for, nonnie...

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regular person turned worst abuser

(Anonymous) 2015-04-18 05:03 pm (UTC)(link)
not sure about this, it may be off-topic

daredevil dumpster anyone? Wilson Fisk may not be Hydra, but he is invited to the Hydra Trash parties (as Hydra could do with more allies and hopes he'll join them soon) and Fisk decides to bring as his +1 his art dealer, the lovely Vanessa.

I'm mainly interested in how Vanessa, who seems just a regular person and doesn't have any political allegiance to Hydra,
- realises the sickest things turn her on, discovers new kinks, etc
- can come up with creative ways to torture the Asset

all my mouldy hairy blue cheese and a dozen empty Axe cans if:

- Vanessa turns torture into art... maybe using bodily fluids to "paint" the Asset - probably a mixture of hers and his.


Bucky is straight, Steve is gay or bi, past abuse complicates everything

(Anonymous) 2015-04-18 05:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Okay, first time asking here so I hope i'm doing it right. This is one I'm not inclined to write, but find very interesting to see worked out.

So basically:

-Pre-WS Bucky loves Steve dearly, but only as a friend, not romantically, as he's into girls.

-Pre-WS Steve on the other hand always had a crush on Bucky (author's discretion if you choose to make hi gay or bi)

-During Hydra capture Bucky was raped and abused in about every shape or form, and now completely separates attraction from sex. Attraction is something he only vaguely remembers, but he's very proficient at giving and being used for pleasure of others without any for himself.

-Post-WS Bucky is touch-starved and vulnerable, and actually likes Steve touching him, hugging him...eventually kissing him, because it makes him feel loved and safe, not realizing that for most people this sort of behavior goes together with sexual attraction.

-Steve interprets Bucky's desire for physicality as a reciprocation of his feelings, and acts as such (albeit gently, as Steve is).

-Bucky genuinely loves Steve (but isn't sexually attracted) and wants to make him feel good sexually, by servicing him.

-Steve finds out about Bucky's abuse, and is horrified, but this makes him blame lack of arousal on Bucky's end as a result of abuse, not sexual orientation.

-Bucky can come from being fucked, but it's more physical conditioning. He doesn't get hard on the idea of Steve or gay sex. He can sort of enjoy oral if he thinks of other scenario's in his head, and he's very good at giving it (but it's not arousing to him). He can't get or stay hard to actually fuck Steve.

- Steve find out too late (after they had sex already, possibly several times)

- Bucky wants to continue to have sex with Steve regardless, because he now associates sex with Steve and affection, and feeling not-wortless.

- Up to you if and how they work it out, if they continue having sex or not, if they bring in a third party, if Steve pulls away or somehow goes with it and they find some dysfunctional-functionality.

Well that was more detailed than I first planned, but do with it what you will, trash gods.

Re: Bucky is straight, Steve is gay or bi, past abuse complicates everything

(Anonymous) 2015-04-20 07:27 am (UTC)(link)
I'm writing something that has some elements of this, with touch starved Bucky not being able to get off but wanting to have sex for the affection. He can't get off for WS-related reasons, not incompatible orientations, so I don't know if it would be rtyi: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3418799 and http://archiveofourown.org/works/3479405/chapters/7935879

masochistic masturbation

(Anonymous) 2015-04-18 07:54 pm (UTC)(link)
post-ws bucky hurting himself while getting off - pinching, cutting, burning, choking/asphyxiation, maybe some self-bondage into painful/uncomfortable positions, etc. the more brutal/fucked up the better.

+ bonus points for frantically trying to hide it from steve

+ bonus points for steve finding out in some really awkward, inelegant way - seeing marks, walking in on bucky in a very compromising position, etc

+ super bonus points for (a) steve seeing it as self ham and being horrified, wanting bucky to stop hurting himself and/or (b) steve offering to be the one to inflict the pain instead & bucky subsequently refusing, not wanting to bring steve into his dark fetishes or sully their sex life
dira: Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier (Default)

Re: masochistic masturbation

[personal profile] dira 2015-04-19 01:47 pm (UTC)(link)
I am writing a huge long story that incorporates this, so if no one else gets to it sooner I will have some for you... someday! :D

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Re: TINSOB Sneak peek #2: Try, try again

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(Anonymous) 2015-04-20 08:46 pm (UTC)(link)
The first thing Bucky does when he realizes he has some semblance of autonomy is try and kill himself.

Up to anon author what happens from here.

(Anonymous) 2015-04-20 11:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Yes. Yes please.

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additional question

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FILL: Suicide's not painless (1/?)

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