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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The Winter Soldier (under orders, or confused as his programming breaks down, or Bucky acting under a trigger phrase à la 'sputnik') rapes Steve. It's brutal and painful, all the more so because they both wanted each other pre-fall but neither of them ever made a move. Later, after he's broken free of his programming and recovered his memories, Bucky avoids Steve out of shame, but Steve finds him and makes it clear that he forgives him. They strike up a reckless, ill-advised sexual relationship, which Steve probably initiates... and sooner rather than later, Steve has to nope out while they're fucking. Maybe not the first time, but the second or the third. He's furious with himself for letting it affect him, Bucky's in a guilt spiral and trying to give Steve space--so Steve, who under normal circumstances would rather have a tooth pulled than seek out comfort when he's hurting, basically tells Bucky to just shut the fuck up and hold him for a while.

Bonus if Steve nopes out due to rage, disgust, or a barely-controllable urge to struggle and fight back--something besides pure undiluted distress. Double bonus if he confesses the urge to fight back to Bucky, Bucky goes "sounds legit, go ahead and hit me," and they have fucked-up sad-angry semi-roleplay fightsex.

I love your mind.

I don't know what I'm doing starting a new fic right now, but I am starting it anyway! Updates will probably be slow, but for now have some triggered!confused!Bucky/Steve noncon.

Bucky took a long moment to rake his eyes over Steve’s tied up form, facedown and naked on the safe house bed. Bucky had removed his own clothes after subduing Steve; both sets of uniforms sat folded on the floor, Steve’s red, white, and blue looking especially bright and garish next to Bucky’s endless black. Eventually, the protocol tugged him inexorably forwards, and he crawled up the bed to rest his weight over Steve’s. He nuzzled up Steve’s neck until warm breath ghosted against Steve’s ear, nipping gently and tasting Steve’s skin.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.”

The word’s came out as a growl. Bucky could not remember ever having wanted to follow the protocol so badly, before. He knew the pain of disobeying the code words, but for once obedience felt like more than a simple avoidance of stun batons and knives and shackles against his skin. It felt like –

It felt like –

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmered against Steve’s ear, tongue darting out to taste sweat-salted skin. “Gonna make you scream.” He punctuated the words with a slow thrust into Steve with the index finger of his right hand.

It was, admittedly, an idle threat. One of Bucky’s old mouth guards, recovered from the destroyed bank vault base along with the restraints he’d used on Steve, and tied in place with a strap torn off of his own vest, kept Steve silent. He could hear Steve’s ragged breaths, see his tears, but Steve would be unable to scream and beg.

It was –

Appropriate
too bad
don’t want to hear him cry
wanna hear him beg
not like that

It had been the only way to stop the
Bucky what are you doing
stop
Bucky please you know me
don’t do this
please.

“You gonna be good for me?” he asked, nipping a path down Steve’s spine. “Yeah, you’re gonna be so fucking good.”

He added another finger, knew it was right when Steve whimpered and squirmed as much as his bonds would allow.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He twisted his fingers, finding the place that made Steve buck against his hand until the whole bed creaked with the force of it. “Gonna make you feel good, too.” Not in the protocol, but. He wanted. The protocol didn’t say he couldn’t make Steve feel good, either.

“Yeah, fuck, you got no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” That wasn’t in the protocol either, but it felt. Right. Like the memories his body held onto when his head was wiped clean. “Wanted to be inside you so fucking long. Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

Bucky slicked his dick with another one of his finds from the old base, and slid into Steve. Stars went off behind his eyes, and following protocol had never felt so good before.

Bucky’s thrusts grew more erratic, and he leaned down to bite viciously at Steve’s neck. The shallow gasps his teeth pulled from Steve’s throat nearly tipped him over the edge.

“You’re mine, fuck, mine, ya hear?”

Steve bucked against him, and he went recklessly tumbling right over the edge into temporary oblivion. He came back to himself stroking Steve’s hair with his flesh hand while his mouth whispered, “So good, babydoll, so good,” over and over in a hoarse whisper. He closed his mouth first, then reluctantly detangled his hand.

He got up, dressed himself back in his combat gear, allowed his fingers to type the safe house coordinates into Steve’s phone and hit the send button to Natalia, and let his feet take him far away, still on autopilot.

When he had safely lost himself in another city miles away from Steve, he was surprised to find his body throwing up in a deserted alley, until he was bringing up nothing but spit and bile. He had obeyed the protocol. He wasn’t supposed to be punished when he obeyed.

The tears that blurred his eyes and mixed with the puke on the ground made just as little sense.

This is incredible and I will be waiting ever so patiently for more, trash hero.

Oh wow, and I love how it becomes that extra little horrible because there are parts of the real Bucky in there.

Oh my God, the way Bucky talks in this is an arrow to the heart; he sounds all put-together, like Bucky Barnes, and it's gonna make it so much worse for Steve!

Oohhhhh God this is so awful-amazing. YES. YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

One week had passed since Natasha and Sam had had to rescue Steve from a grimy old safe house in Eastern Europe. He’d warned them once not to say one goddamn word about killing Bucky and refused to talk about it since.

Not talking about it didn’t mean he hadn’t been thinking about it. Hardly a minute went by without some piece of the event replaying itself in his head. He’d found Bucky, finally tracked him down after months of searching, and the sight of his best friend had nearly broken his heart. Bucky had crouched at the back of the safe house when Steve entered, wild-eyed and spitting words in Russian that Steve barely understood. So Steve had groped through his mind for the scraps of Russian he’d picked up off Natasha and tried to soothe Bucky with whispered nonsense and outstretched, empty palms.

Boy, had that backfired on him.

Natasha and Sam both had tried to convince him to go home, to leave the rest of the hunt to them. Natasha by appealing to his sense of duty, with reminders of the mess he’d left behind after SHIELD fell, and the Hydra hidey-holes that almost surely existed back in the US that could use someone like him taking them out. Sam had taken a different approach, all concern that Steve was burning himself out, reminders that he needed rest and couldn’t actually take on the whole world by himself. Steve had protested that he wasn’t trying to take on the whole world, just find Bucky. Sam’s answering glare said plainly enough what he thought of that excuse.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue that Bucky wasn’t his world, not when it would have been so obviously a lie. Sam had given up after one more this isn’t healthy, man. I can’t stop you, but I can sure as hell disapprove.

Now, they refused to leave him alone. When one of them was out searching for information, the other stayed firmly planted at Steve’s side. Right now, that meant Natasha sitting at the little table in his hotel room, ostensibly reading over the few files they’d managed to obtain on the Winter Soldier. On Bucky. She’d memorized those files ages ago, though, and today her eyes hadn’t moved since she sat down, nor had she flipped a single page.

Finally, the silence must have gotten to her. “I don’t understand!” she said, still sitting stock-still at the table. Steve only quirked an eyebrow in her direction, determined to wait her out. “He hurt you, Steve,” she said, and Steve ignored the relief that she’d said hurt, and not another four letter word. “He hurt you, and left you for us to find, and it’s been months! More than long enough for him to remember something if he was going to, but his default response to seeing you was that and you still think that he's your friend!” She finally looked at Steve, before repeating, “I don’t understand.”

“It wasn’t him,” Steve said, meeting her eyes. He’d had plenty of time to think over what had happened, and while Hydra still managed to shock him with their perverse disregard for any kind of decency, he had come up with an explanation. “He was speaking Russian,” Steve continued, “so I thought maybe I could try to calm him down. Only my Russian’s a little rusty, and I must have said a trigger phrase. He wasn’t dangerous till after I started speaking.”

Steve knew he sounded desperate, and he was. He was also, however, convinced that he was right. Whatever had happened back at that safe house was his own fault, not Bucky’s. Bucky’d been used by those sick bastards for years, and it only made sense they would have trigger phrases for things Steve would never have imagined.

“What did you say?” Natasha asked. Steve resented the way her voice had gone gentle at the question. No matter what Bucky had done to him, he wasn’t the one who needed pity and compassion. Natasha, of course, remained as impervious as usual to his glare.

Steve told her what he’d said, as best as he could remember. He was certain his accent was mangling the words in all new ways, but hopefully Natasha would be able to make something useful of it anyway. About halfway through, she said, “Stop,” and he could see her repeating his last words to herself, rolling them across her tongue and teasing out how they might have sounded to a confused, brainwashed assassin from the 40s.

She looked away from him again when she said, “I think I know what the phrase was. There was… a similar phrase in the Red Room. A phrase to make us compliant for the handlers. There were… rumors… that there was another, similar phrase, for the Soldier. One for when he was interrogating prisoners, and the higher ups wanted to have a little fun.” Steve could imagine Sam in his head, telling him that it wasn’t his fault. He was glad Natasha was with him instead.

Before he could be too glad, however, Natasha’s phone rang. It was Sam’s ringtone, and their conversation was brief. From Natasha’s few terse words, Steve picked up on the important information, anyway.

“Sam found Bucky,” he said, when Natasha hung up. It was not a question.

Natasha considered him. “You’re not going to stay here, are you?” she asked. Steve shook his head.

“Fine,” she said. “But I do the talking, and you do not engage.”

“Sure,” he said, grabbing his jacket to follow her out the door. Both were fully aware he would ignore her orders as soon as it was convenient to do so, but she probably hoped Sam’s presence wherever they were going would help keep Steve on a leash. He let her keep her illusions, for now.

No matter what Bucky had done to him, he wasn’t the one who needed pity and compassion. Of course not, Steve. Of course not.

So excited to see an update! Loving this so far.

i am o happy you are continuing this.

Aw Steve, you have a right to be traumatized too. Great stuff.

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Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

WS/Steve noncon + later Steve/Bucky h/c

Re: WS/Steve noncon + later Steve/Bucky h/c

Fill: Pull the Trigger [1/?]

Re: Fill: Pull the Trigger [1/?]

Re: Fill: Pull the Trigger [1/?]

Re: Fill: Pull the Trigger [1/?]

Re: Fill: Pull the Trigger [1/?]

Fill: Pull the Trigger [2/?]

Re: Fill: Pull the Trigger [2/?]

Re: Fill: Pull the Trigger [2/?]

Re: Fill: Pull the Trigger [2/?]