hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Holy shitballs, look at us go. Welcome to Captain America fandom's resident wretched hive of scum and villainy: ROUND THREE. AKA Bad Guys Do Dirtybadwrong Things To Your Faves, AKA the Hydra Trash Party kinkmeme. As usual, BLANKET NON-CON AND NSFW WARNINGS apply: just assume going in that everything in this landfill is unfit for human consumption.

Rules in brief: don't be a jerk except to fictional characters, warnings for particularly fucked-up garbage are nice but not required, thou shalt not judge the trashiness of thy neighbor's kinks unless thy neighbor is trying to pass off their rotting banana peels and half-eaten pizza crusts as a healthy romantic dinner for two, off-topic comments may be chucked out of the dumpster at management's discretion, management's discretion decrees that omegaverse, soulbond AUs, D/s-verse, non-superpowered AUs, and dark!good guys AUs are off-topic.

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

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I'm so happy that these details stood out for you, anon - they were some of my favorite parts to write. Bucky has a pretty good attitude toward his body, here, when it's not being used for sex: it's strong, and capable, and his. And while he believes David when he calls him a slut, a whore, etc., he doesn't really believe him when he calls the scars disgusting. But he recognizes that those comments have upset him (well, the violent rape has also upset him, but that's harder to acknowledge), and he's emotionally well-adjusted enough to ask for something that will help him feel better.

And yes, Bucky's cooking! :) I wanted to show his capacity for enjoyment, for pleasure-seeking, in ways that have nothing to do with sex. I like to think he's getting pretty good at it, although of course (as you say) Sam and Steve would compliment his meals regardless. <3

Thank you, OP! You are such a pleasure to write for. <3 Bucky got (relatively) lucky with Katie, but there's just no way that someone with no concept of consent, someone unable to say no to sex wouldn't attract people like David as well. I'm so glad David was recognizable as someone drawn to vulnerability as a marker of easy prey. The behavior here is extreme (because trash party), but overall he's meant to be a familiar sort of monster.

Poor Sam! As much as he and Steve are doing something awful to Bucky, Bucky is (inadvertently, but still!) doing something awful to them. He is making them into rapists - or at least, that's how they're going to feel, because how could they not? - and in its own way that's a hideous violation of their dignity, their decency. I'm glad Sam came across as loving and tender and caring here, even through Bucky's distorted perception. Not long, now, before the truth comes out.

Next up: there was a request for more of Sam and Steve having kinky sex with Bucky, who thinks he's being punished. As you put it, to them it's hot and intimate, and Bucky flawlessly performs like he isn't freaked the hell out.

Well. Almost flawlessly.

Oh god this has so much potential for glorious horribleness. What if he thinks he's giving Jessica something nice when he makes her fuck Bucky??

Presumably he'd have to be careful about how he used his powers though, because Hydra would desperately want to own him if they knew about his abilities.

This makes me really curious about how this comes about, though. How does he know Hydra members?? Does he have nothing but disdain for them, or is there a certain reluctant respect for the utter control they have over Bucky? Or maybe he sees Bucky, the one person they had to spend years of torture on to control, and just quietly laughs to himself about how much weaker they are than him?

I'm sorry, James almost says, and that's when he knows he's in trouble. Begging is not tolerated, not unless he's given permission, and will earn him a broken jaw or worse. The soft-hearted ones, he remembers, used to gag him.

Sam and Steve are not so kind. James wishes they would flip him over, let him hide his face and muffle his sounds, but he is on his back in his own bed, completely exposed. Steve's hand moves lazily over his tortured cock, stroking and stopping, keeping him on the edge. He is flushed, panting, his whole body taut and desperate, his skin so sensitized that every touch threatens to overwhelm him. He doesn't know how long it's been, has stopped tracking time the way he should. His cock leaks as Steve's calloused palm drags over the head, and when he can't stifle his moan, Steve does it again. Sam kneels between his spread legs and fucks the hated thing into him, slow and deep and cruel, and James is so afraid he'll turn it on again that he wants to cry.

This is the strictest punishment he's suffered from his new team - his new friends, he reminds himself, because he no longer fights beside them, and though he'd feared retaliation for that, it hadn't come - and he was so stupid, he'd mistaken it at first for indulgence. Don't come, Steve had said, his mouth hot and wet against the back of James's neck, his cock splitting him open. Not until I tell you. He'd nodded acquiescence, confused but grateful, and allowed his attention to wander from his body, tuning out the discomfort and the stimulation both as Steve used him, while Sam leaned against the headboard, stroking his own cock, watching them. When Steve was done, he'd rolled James onto his back and grinned at him, pure mischief, before bending to take his softening cock in his mouth. James tried to ignore it - the heat, the suction, the skillful tongue - but it was difficult: when people did this, in his recent experience, they wanted him to come, were pleased when he did, and his body has begun to associate this act with orgasm. Then Sam was showing him something, a toy, and asking the usual questions, and James gave the proper answers while his hands curled anxiously in the sheets. He spent as little time in his own skin as he could, when he was having sex, and even when he had to be hard, had to come, he tried to hold some part of himself separate from the sensations. But Steve's mouth was insistent, and he was responding, and he wasn't allowed - and he felt it, couldn't help but feel it. When Sam slid the toy inside him, stroking over his prostate, he gasped at the shock that ran through him, and Sam laughed, and pressed a quick kiss against his thigh. Then he turned it on, and James cried out as the vibrations flooded his nerves with fire. The buzzing thing inside him demanded a response, wrenched him toward it, and for a moment he thought he might disobey, come helplessly into Steve's hot mouth, and the terror of that was enough to bring him back from the edge.

It's off, now, but still inside him, still a threat. He feels raw, flayed, horribly and inescapably present in his own body, all protections burned away. Steve's hand on his cock is almost more than he can bear. "Look at you," Steve murmurs, and he sounds stunned with arousal, drunk with it. "You're so gorgeous." What did I do, James thinks again, reflexively, but he's had time to review every infraction, real and probably imagined, in the last few days, and he thinks he knows. He'd woken that morning tangled up in them, Steve's arm flung across his chest, Sam's leg snug between his. When Sam had stirred and stretched, grinding his morning erection against James's ass, James had rolled over and slipped a hand obediently into his boxers - but Sam had caught his wrist. "Can't," he said, his voice still fuzzed with sleep. "Would love to, but can't. Early meeting, have to - " The rest had been lost to a yawn. It hadn't seemed so bad, at the time - a mistake, but a small one, and then Steve had woken up as well, and he didn't have an early meeting, and there'd been no chance to dwell on it. But it was bad, of course it was: an unwelcome advance (you fucking slut) when Sam had no use for him. And for offering himself in error, he thinks, this punishment makes a certain awful kind of sense. If he's so desperate for it, they will give him all he can take. They will give him more. He'd beg forgiveness, but he doesn't want to make it worse, and he doesn't want - he doesn't need them to tell him he deserves it.

The ugly night staggers on. Sam eases the toy out of him, finally, and Steve takes his hand away, and then they do turn him over, and there's a moment of relief as he presses his aching face into the bed. The corners of his eyes are wet. Then Sam's hands are on his hips, and Steve is leaning across him, gripping his wrists, and Sam's cock is sliding against his hole. No, he thinks abruptly. No more. But they don't ask him, for once, and when Sam pushes into him, he has no name for what he feels. He wishes, with sudden and shocking intensity, that this weren't happening here. They can punish him, of course they can, but it's wrong for them to do it in this apartment he loves, this place that's meant to be his, where he's meant to be safe. In his bed.

He breaks Steve's grip without thinking, and there's a terrible, weightless moment, like a long fall. Then: "Yellow," Steve says, lifting his hands - I mean no harm - and Sam's hips still. "James. Are you okay? Do you - "

And then the world snaps back into focus, and he is apologizing, uncontrollably, lightheaded with fear. "I'm sorry, I'm - fuck, I'm sorry, don't stop, I didn't mean to - "

"It's all right," Sam says, petting his flank like James is a nervous animal, gentling him. "Is this too much? We can - "

"No," James says, because whatever waits at the end of that sentence is unthinkable. We can remind you what too much really means. Or, unimaginably worse: We can leave. We can leave you alone. "It's good, I'm good, I just - I couldn't - "

"I was holding you down," Steve says. "Is that a problem?" James shakes his head. He doesn't trust himself to speak.

"Did you want to fight us?" Sam asks slowly. "Not for real, but - to struggle, a little? That's - a lot of people like that."

He can't grasp what this means, not exactly, but he recognizes the tone, studiously nonjudgmental, the one people use to tell him that the situation is normal, even if his response to it is not. A lot of people like that. "Yes," he gasps. "Yes, that's - I - " And then, thank fuck, he remembers. "Green. I'm green. Please."

After that, time starts to stutter. Pierce is fucking his mouth, making him choke, while another handler pounds into his ass, and he's supposed to struggle, a little, only that makes no sense, he'll be punished for that, and he thinks that if he starts struggling the panic coiling in his gut will overwhelm him, and he won't be able to stop. But none of this makes sense, Pierce is old now - Pierce is dead - and then time falters again, and Sam is coming, and he and Steve are switching places. Sam strokes a thumb across his cheek, and James knows what's there, but he summons his will and gives his color. Notice, he thinks, as he's been taught. Four things you see. He hasn't slipped like that in months. Also, this isn't going to work, because his eyes are shut, and he refuses to open them. Three things you feel in your body. Similarly unhelpful. Two sounds you hear. But it's still not over, and he gives up, waits for past and present to collapse again. It's Pierce, he thinks, tentatively, when they don't. Come on. That was a long time ago, after all, and he's already survived. It's safer there. But time has righted itself, and he's stranded here, now, where this is really happening: Steve fucking him, Sam holding him down.

When Steve lets him come - finally, finally - James nearly blacks out. He's aware, dimly, of a warm damp cloth caressing his skin, cleaning him, and covers being pulled over him. When he wakes in the night, Sam and Steve are wrapped around him, close as his own breath. This is the part he likes, normally - the part he loves, if he's being honest with himself - but tonight, lying still in the dark, he feels no relief, no contentment. There is something cold and heavy in his chest. He wants very badly to be home. But, of course, he already is.

FUCK this is the SADDEST -- Bucky not being able to say no while feeling so violated in his safe space by people that he trusted. ;_____; Being triggered like crazy (conflating Steve with Pierce T_T) and still afraid to express anything but enthusiasm.

I can't help but wonder -- why is being left alone the worst?

(Also, if it's not obvious -- absolutely loving this and anxious for more!)

For fuck's sake. I actually whimpered out loud while reading this. This is one of the saddest stories I've ever read on here.

The facility is not as deserted as their intel had apparently led them to believe, so far as Rumlow can tell. At any rate, the Captain's annoying comrades haven’t been spotted within a couple hundred miles of the abandoned factory, one of Hydra’s few remaining European strongholds.

It’s just the two of them.

Rumlow watches over the closed circuit cameras as Cap and the soldier fight off the first seven guards easily, hurling that blasted shield back and forth to each other along the narrow corridor; he watches as it ricochets off walls and crashes into soft flesh with a satisfyingly pulpy sound. But when another agent appears at the end of the hall wearing a gas mask and lobbing a hissing canister at them, when he watches them collapse hard against the unforgiving asbestos tiled floor, overcome by noxious fumes, Rumlow knows he’s won.

“Buck?” Rogers calls out hoarsely. “You there?”

“Steve?” the soldier answers, sounding foggy and far away. Rogers turns to the sound of the soldier’s voice, his eyes widening at the sight of the soldier slumped against the wall, pinned in place by its prosthesis to a magnetic clamp screwed into the wall over its head.

Rogers redoubles his own efforts to escape, but he has been thoroughly strapped down to the rusting, abandoned examination table, straps crossing his thighs and chest and neck, his arms fixed into place by sturdy metal gauntlets that give no quarter.

Metal gauntlets that had been constructed to hold the Winter Soldier in place for maintenance, in point of fact.

And when the Captain glances down and realizes that he’s naked...Rumlow smirks at the Captain’s complete and total debasement.

“Captain Rogers,” Rumlow says, stepping out from the shadows, and Rogers twitches, recognizing a voice he’d never expected to hear again.

“We dropped a building on you,” Rogers says through gritted teeth. “How are you even alive?”

“Miracle of science,” Rumlow says with a humorless smile. “You know how that goes. Anyway, thanks for retrieving the asset for us, Cap. HYDRA is in your debt.”

"He's not an asset," Rogers snaps. "He's a person."

"Hmm...mostly," the soldier agrees, flexing its metal fingers and faking bluster and bravado for the Captain’s sake. Rumlow had always admired that, how the soldier would stare down any threat in a crowd...until Pierce snapped his fingers and brought the soldier to heel. The soldier looks up at Rumlow, chin set with stubborn defiance, and the look on its face is so adorably fierce, so full of fight, even though Rumlow can see how the soldier had gone trembly and pale as milk at the sight of him....

"The asset is many things," Rumlow agrees. He crosses the room to stand in front of the soldier. "Why don’t we show the good Captain exactly what you’re good for, soldier?"

"Fuck off," the soldier mutters, and then Rumlow's hand strikes out to tangle in the asset’s hair, tilting its head back at an alarming angle.

"That's 'fuck off, Commander,' Rumlow growls. When the soldier fights to throw off his grip, Rumlow whispers the shut-down code, sputnik, only ever mentioned in hushed tones and back rooms, and Rumlow’s not even sure it will work until the soldier’s face--its whole body--goes slack in obeisance. Rumlow releases its hair, now escaping in dark clumps from the elastic that had held it back from its face, and begins fiddling with the code box that will release the clamp.

“Stand,” Rumlow says once the arm has been freed, and the asset pushes up to its feet, gazing at Rogers impassively.

"Strip," Rumlow says, and the asset begins peeling off its tac gear and under layers.

"Bucky?” the Captain barks, and then, to Rumlow, “what’d you do to him?"

Rumlow's lips twitch in a caricature of a smile. "Failsafe. You really should have read the manual on your new toy, Captain."

OMG. Rumlow calling Bucky "it" is EVERYTHING I NEED. Also, the idea that Rumlow finds Bucky's courage/defiance adorable is wonderfully awful. Can't wait to see where this goes!

Holy SHIT this story is ruining me T.T

When Bucky started having flashbacks and thinking Steve was Pierce I was about ready to scream because JESUS SAM AND STEVE PLS NOTICE SOMETHING IS WRONG. But at the same time Bucky's been trained for 70 years to not slip up so I know he's too good of an actor but oh my god this is killing me (the pain is so good)

*ROLLS GLEEFULLY IN TRASHY ANGST

Oh, ouch! Love this fill :)

One thing that I'm trying to figure out is how the kink negotiation would gone down. As in, wouldn't Sam and Steve notice that Bucky was saying yes to all of their kinky proposals without offering any of his own? Or was Bucky actually so good at faking that he had answers ready for things like "what's something that'd turn you on?" or "what kind of thing would you prefer for holding you down?"

for turn ons, what about him saying "I don't know but I want to find out" or "you"?

Not author, but it seems believable to me. Maybe they asked if it was okay to try X, he said yes and appeared to really like it, then they were like, "hm, maybe if you like X you would be interested in Y?" he seemed really into that idea, and so on. Like if they were suggesting things based on their impressions of what he might like, and he kept enthusiastically saying yes. In that situation, people without certain experiences would be more likely to think, "I'm a good judge of things he's going to be interested in," than, "he can't say no."

I am curious how he responds to questions about his preferences, though. I mean, he has to say yes but if someone asks him to choose between 2 sexual acts? I guess he'd think it's a test and try to figure out which one they want more.

Same. The manual. I can't.

Honestly even before you wrote it I was thinking: fuck, they're in his bed, his bed that he likes so much. and that just makes it so sad, that he can't feel safe anywhere really.

And damn, Sam and Steve, c'mon guys, notice he's not okay already!

Oh man I just came across this prompt and I hope someone writes it!

Yeah I was thinking that. It's unlikely they sat down with a checklist. It probably was as innocent as Bucky reacting to something, and either Sam or Steve interpreting that as 'he likes that' and let's find stuff he likes more.

I mean, even in this scene, they're not objectively doing horrible things. It's some orgasm delay and dildo play - it's hardly advanced bdsm.

What makes it horrible is Bucky's experience of it. But, given his state even vanilla fucking feels basically like rape. There's just gradations of awful ((OH BUCKY!))

I do enjoy writing HYDRA's weirdly protective, dehumanizing standards.

If I ever write a continuation, I'll definitely link it here.

Thanks!

Thanks for the hugs (and the concern). I was strangely okay writing this - I guess I'm good at compartmentalization.

if someone asks him to choose between 2 sexual acts? I guess he'd think it's a test and try to figure out which one they want more.

And of course, no matter which one he picks, they think he's expressing a real preference and are happy, and he's delighted he got it right at least no matter how much he hates whatever the act itself is.

This whole thing is such a neat trap, it's killing me to read it.

If he were capable of resenting such things consciously, I'll bet he'd really resent that he has to pretend to like it all the time. That shit's exhausting.

These snippets are delicious and nutritious and I am going to thrive on them for ages, how much beauty in so little space!

(And as the OP, shit, if you think you'd be interested in filling this with a different villain! I enjoy Rumlow, but not as much as I enjoy Sam in anguish, I'd be way up for this with a different Hydra person.)

Bucky and Natasha have a habit of talking about Steve in Russian and smirking at him while they're doing it (though of course it's nothing they wouldn't say in English, they're just teasing him and usually what they're saying is actually very sweet) and finally Steve gets fed up and starts studying on his own, quietly.

Which means that the next time Bucky has one of those dreams where he talks in his sleep, in a perfectly calm, collected voice, Steve can understand what he's saying...

+ if yeah, "Please no please stop don't please I'll be good" is terrible, but what's worse is "Begging isn't going to stop me, just shut up."

Huzzah! I am so glad you are enjoying, OP! Haaaaaaaaaappy New Year!

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Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Re: more for less, 3/?

Re: more for less, 3/?

Re: Jessica Jones Crossover, Kilgrave At A Trash Party (or something)

more for less, 4/?

Re: more for less, 4/?

Re: more for less, 4/?

Catatonic Sex Toy 1/?, Rumlow/Bucky/Steve - Post WS

Re: Catatonic Sex Toy 1/?, Rumlow/Bucky/Steve - Post WS

Re: more for less, 4/?

Re: more for less, 4/?

Re: more for less, 4/?

Re: more for less, 4/?

Re: more for less, 4/?

Re: Catatonic Sex Toy 1/?, Rumlow/Bucky/Steve - Post WS

Re: more for less, 4/?

Re: Bucky makes really disturbing dark jokes about his own rapes; Natasha is the only one who gets i

Re: more for less, 4/?

Re: [Fill] "Between Thy Rosed Lips" Mute!Bucky [4/?]

Re: [Fill] "Between Thy Rosed Lips" Mute!Bucky [5/5]

Re: [Fill] "Between Thy Rosed Lips" Mute!Bucky [5/5]

Re: [Fill] "Everything Stuck to Him" Bucky aggressively owning his bodily autonomy [3/?]

Re: more for less, 4/?

Re: Rumlow/Sam survival situation trash

Linguistic retroactive horror

Re: Habeas Corpus (8/?)