hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

This is kind of but not really a "Bucky thinks his friends are handlers" prompt, because my idea is that he does know who Steve & co are. He remembers his life, he identifies as Bucky, and except for expected aftereffects of his trauma, his personality is intact. Even if you're paying close attention, he looks like he's recovering well and is back to his old self. So it's impossible for anyone to tell that in fact, Bucky has absolutely NO concept of consent, and he cannot say no to sexual advances, ever.

+ he has sex with several people (Sam and Steve preferred), and during these encounters he acts totally normal, being affectionate, having fun -- just like he can tell they want

+ maybe he's kinda fucked up about having sex with Steve/Sam, or maybe he genuinely doesn't care because, no, he never WANTS to, but at least they're not rough like some of the other people he's currently fucking so hey, it's kinda nice. ...or maybe sometimes they ARE rough and kinky, and to them it's hot and intimate, and Bucky flawlessly performs like he isn't freaked the hell out. Like, just fuck me up

+ horrible fallout when all this comes to light. Imagine how fucked up Steve and Sam would be?

I am interested in something focusing on the tension in Bucky really being himself again except for this one huge hidden difference. Because they're not as careful as they should be with him, + something inarticulable about the contrast between his personality and THIS just destroys me

Yay consent issues!

But how would it come to light if Bucky is acting so normal? It's not like Bucky would ever say no to sex, and he'd presumably be fine saying no in every other circumstance....

What if his partner(s) think they're in an exclusive relationship, and then Bucky gets caught "cheating" with some random he also can't say no to? At first they think he was unfaithful (and even react with hurt), but then as Bucky talks about it more it becomes clear it was rape, and worse, there's the dawning understanding that their relationship with him has the exact same problem...

"Of course I fucked him," Bucky said, like he couldn't understand why Steve was being so stupid. "He wanted me."

(OP) a world of agony in two sentences :D

Re: Bucky remembers everything but has no understanding of consent

(Anonymous) - 2016-01-17 21:20 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Bucky remembers everything but has no understanding of consent

(Anonymous) - 2016-01-17 21:23 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Bucky remembers everything but has no understanding of consent

(Anonymous) - 2016-01-17 21:46 (UTC) - Expand

A/N: This is such a beautiful prompt, OP! I hope this is something close to what you had in mind. Title from "Perfect," by Marianas Trench.

Sex with his new team is, comparatively, a lot of work. Not that James is complaining, obviously - he can handle it, no problem. But they want him hard, for one thing, which takes concentration. He hadn't realized, the first time, until it was too late, and Steve had touched his face with love and worry and infinite gentleness and asked if they were going too fast. Which, fuck that. You don't last long if you make stupid fucking mistakes like that.

And then there's the way they talk to him. Not just the usual filth - you're so tight, so hot, god, you feel so fucking good - although, sure, there's some of that, but questions. Endless questions, it sometimes seems, that they want him to answer. May I? as Sam's hand drops to his belt. Is this good? as Steve licks teasingly up his cock. How're you doing? Does this hurt? Do you want this?

And that's the heart of the matter, right there, as it hadn't taken him long to figure out. They want him to want it. They want to hear yes, and good, and please, over and over. When he gives the correct responses, Steve smiles at him like a sunrise. When he shudders and moans and cries out as if he can barely stand how good it feels, Sam's fingers dig into his hips and his thrusts turn hard, wild. When he reaches for them, leaning into their space, pulling them in for a kiss, they look at him like he's the best part of their day, like they can't believe how goddamn lucky they are. So sure, it takes focus, but he can give them what they want. They're gentlemen, in fact, if James is thinking comparatively: they cuddle him afterwards, which is (embarrassingly) really fucking nice, and they hardly ever hit him for getting it wrong.

Tonight, though, he has fucked up. He knows this, because he's kneeling face down on the bed, his hands tied behind his back, and his ass is stinging from the slap of Sam's heavy palm. You're sure? Yes, I fucking want it. You'll tell us if it's too much? Yeah, of course. That part is over, mercifully - as pain, it barely registered, but it made him feel sort of sick and sad, as if that wasn't a ludicrous emotion from the former Winter Soldier. More justifiably, he is annoyed with himself, because he hasn't figured out what he did wrong this time - and a little worried, as he fucking should be, because the failure to please is always dangerous.

Even when he's being punished, they don't let him off the hook. You like that? Fuck, yes, I love it. You want more? Please. Now Steve is behind him, working him open with a toy, and it feels huge and awful. The pain is minor - Steve used plenty of lube, and again, former Winter Soldier, James can take it - but he hates feeling so open, so exposed. He had a few handlers who were into shit like this, and he doesn't exactly cherish the memories. He's not fucked up about it - he goes to therapy, he knows what PTSD is, knows there's a difference between reliving and remembering, and he's not about to forget where he is anytime soon - but all the same, he doesn't like being made to remember.

His hands are tied with an actual tie, one of Sam's, he thinks it might be fucking silk, and it's worse, somehow, not being about to strain against it. Anyone says red, this thing's off you in a second. You don't feel like waiting a second, snap it. Which takes actual effort not to do by accident. He does that, they're going to think he doesn't want it, and he might be stupid but he's not that stupid. "Look at him, god, bet you could get your whole fucking hand in there," Sam says, and James hears the heat in his voice, hears Steve's low answering noise of shocked arousal. So, of course: "Fuck yes, come on, god, do it, Stevie, want you so fucking bad," etc. He knows all the words, has gotten reasonably good at saying them, he thinks, so that it no longer demands such careful attention. Which is a relief, at the moment, because what he's thinking now is okay, this is actually going to hurt. Former Winter Soldier or not, this would hurt anyone. He knows what they like, though, which means he'll have to stay hard for it. So he focuses on that, and resolves, not for the first time, that - whatever he did - he's going to fucking well do better next time.

OH this is glorious and i love where it's going

Thank you! <3

This is amazing. Seriously this is one of the best things I've ever read on here--when it started out with him realizing that he was "supposed" to be hard I let out a sigh of extreme happiness. All the descriptions of how (from his POV) he's required to perform liking it is just, omg, perfect, and then when it gets to this scene and it's like "why the fuck would Sam and Steve do this if he doesn't like it...oh, right, he's probably given every indication that he really likes it because doing otherwise would be unthinkable to him." It's horrifying.

Yay! <3 I'm so glad this is working for you. The next part should be up soon!

OH GOD SUCH DELIGHTFUL CONSENT ISSUES I CAN'T EVEN

I love how you get at the heart of the problem, which is that Bucky can't possibly fathom saying no. And that him not really enjoying the sex doesn't really factor into the sex at all -- that consent and expressing eagerness are just words that the others want to hear, and has nothing to do with Bucky's actual consent or desire.

Thank you, a!a. This fills my trashy heart with glee

Consent issues are my favorite! :) And yeah, the fact that he doesn't enjoy the sex is definitely not a relevant consideration for Bucky here. He'll give whatever performance they want - including the performance of enthusiastic consent.

(OP) This is a BEAUTIFUL response to the prompt, anon. You capture Bucky's complicated mindset so so well. And you pull off his lack of consent convincingly -- like when he realizes they want him to want it, and instead of understanding that they don't want to fuck him without his consent, he's like, fuck! I have to fake it! I love that, and I love that faking it takes more work than enduring a purposeful rape, and that you imply sex doesn't even feel good for him, which is just the trash cherry on this trash cake. It kills me that what Bucky actually likes is the CUDDLES, and oh, the line that goes "they're gentlemen if James is thinking comparatively" is a subtle dagger; because it's not actually a compliment to be thought of as nicer than Hydra when they're still hurting Bucky.

Finally, Bucky's hatred of and sadness resulting from his 'punishment' has broken my heart in the best way. He can't figure out why they're hurting him D: Plus, this could be terrible for Steve and Sam one day -- if they knew that Bucky was lying under them feeling sick and sad, wondering what he did to earn torture and how he can avoid it in the future, they would be beyond horrified.

This is just what I asked for. Love it!

Thanks so much, I'm so glad you're enjoying it! This prompt just raises so many wonderful trash problems. Like: of course Sam and Steve are going to be horrified, but what are they actually doing wrong? They don't know Bucky's consent is invalid, of course, but neither are they reckless or (arguably) even negligent with respect to his consent. Bucky is good enough at this (he's had to be) that a reasonable person in their position would think he was really into it. What do you do with that? (Well, you roll around in the trash pile, obviously.)

Next up: your prompt mentioned "some of the other people he's currently fucking," so now we get to see Bucky fuck a bunch of randos, because they want him to and he can't say no to sexual advances. We'll come back to Sam and Steve, though, don't worry! :)

There'd been - James thinks of it as his awkward phase, a period he can't completely recall, when he'd been sleeping (or not sleeping) in Steve's spare bedroom, and eating (or not) at Steve's kitchen counter, and waiting for Hydra to come for him. But Steve had been patient, and unrelentingly kind, and eventually he'd fucking pulled himself together. He has his own apartment now, which Steve and Sam helped him pick out, and which he loves as fiercely as he can remember loving anything. His own couch, piled with blankets, where he can stretch out and read. His own fridge, stocked with things he likes to eat. His own ridiculously comfortable bed.

After the debriefing, and the tests, and the doctors - when the remnants of Shield were through with him, and his memory was as complete and coherent as it seemed likely to get anytime soon - there'd been the question of what he was going to do. Fury had talked to him about joining the new Shield, going on missions with the Avengers, and so he had for a while, until his hatred of it grew stronger than his fear, and one night he'd sat across from Steve at Steve's dining room table and gathered every shred of courage he possessed and said I'm not going to do this anymore. The no matter what you do to me, James felt, was implied. But Steve had smiled at him with what looked like profound relief, and James's heart had cracked open a little at the thought that Steve understood, that Steve wouldn't force him to be a weapon again, that Steve would let him be done. He thought about science, then, which he'd loved, or engineering, and spent a few months researching schools, but in the end he settled on law. His therapist, a grandmotherly sort with a negative tolerance for bullshit, has spent a lot of time with him on the idea that the atrocities he committed as the fist of Hydra were not his fault, and James understands her reasoning. But he also knows the truth, which is that he's hurt a lot of people. He can never make it right - the thought is obscene - but if the world is absurd enough, insane enough to give him a life after everything he's done, he's going to use it to do some fucking good.

He's a month into the program when a girl in his study group asks him if he'd like to get um, coffee, sometime? while blushing to the roots of her hair, and James isn't used to shyness but he can damn well recognize desire. Her name is Katie, and her head barely comes up to his chest. They actually do go for fucking coffee, which he wasn't expecting, and he hears all about her best friend from college (working for a tech start-up), and how she's finding New York (amazing, obviously), and how she's liking law school (well, it's the first semester), which James decodes easily enough as a continent away, overwhelming, and she isn't. Katie is young, James thinks, and lonely, if determined to be brave about it. She wants to know about him, too, and he gives her the story he's worked out with Steve, the one where he was in the army and lost his arm to an IED, which he's gotten better at telling.

She takes him home the following week, back to the cramped and messy student apartment she shares with two other girls, and when he shuts her bedroom door behind them and starts taking his clothes off things get briefly complicated. She pulls off her t-shirt, but crosses her arms over her chest, and then she's blushing again and explaining that she doesn't actually have a lot of um, experience? and asking if they can maybe take it slow, if that's all right with him. The hesitant tone and defensive posture make no fucking sense, because he's there to do whatever she wants, but he gives her his best reassuring smile and tells her of course that's fine with him, that's great. Then he puts his clothes back on, and she leads him to the bed, where they spend a long time kissing before she gets his cock out and slides down to take him into her mouth. He pets her hair and tries to think of nothing at all, and when he comes she rewards him with a grin, her face flushed with effort and arousal, looking thoroughly pleased with herself and with him.

Sex with Katie becomes a regular thing, after that, and eventually James decides he likes her. She's really fucking smart, and genuinely nice, and she wants to be a public defender. She's also just kind of tiny and adorable, which James wants to punch himself in the face for thinking about anyone, but he can't help it. It's a challenge, though, because he can't always tell exactly what she wants from him. He's getting ready to fuck her, sliding the head of his cock slickly against her cunt, not pushing in yet, teasing her - he hasn't been around a lot of women in the past seventy years, sure, but there was one lab tech (blond and statuesque, nothing like little dark Katie) who loved getting fucked by the Winter Solider, and of course there were girls before that, in Brooklyn - when he glances up to see that her expression has shifted from eager to intimidated and uncertain. He backs off, of course, but it just kind of slays him, because she didn't push him away, or say anything, and he does not want to fuck this up. The next time, not really thinking it will work but desperate to make it good for her, he tries out some of the stupid shit he's always hearing from Sam and Steve. Tell me what you want, come on, you're so fucking hot, whatever you want and I'll do it, don't be shy, tell me. She blushes furiously, but (wonder of wonders) she's really into it, and with a little coaxing the results are nothing short of spectacular. She wants him to play with her nipples. (She likes that a lot, which is actually pretty cute.) She wants him to use one hand to pin both of hers over her head. (She doesn't say which hand, but he gets the idea.)

He goes to parties a few times with her and her friends, and keeps creepy guys away from them, which is easy, partly because he looks the way he does, but partly, he imagines, because a little of what he feels must show on his face, which is that he will kill anyone who hurts this small person to whom the world has so plainly never been cruel, he will do it unhesitatingly and inventively. In November, right before exams, she gets a boyfriend, and stops wanting sex with him. After that, he starts to think of her as a friend.

This is so adorable!!! I love the way Bucky knows how sex works physically, and really cares about friendship, but just doesn't parse the bit in-between of mutual love and consent. :DDDD

And also how aware he is of *her* consent (and backing off immediately!), and going so far as to try the "stupid shit" that Steve and Sam do -- all while not recognizing that Steve and Sam were doing it to get *his* consent. OH BUCKY

Re: more for less, 2/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-12-31 16:20 (UTC) - Expand

Re: more for less, 2/?

(Anonymous) - 2015-12-31 18:05 (UTC) - Expand

Re: more for less, 2/?

(Anonymous) - 2016-01-03 16:48 (UTC) - Expand

Re: more for less, 2/?

(Anonymous) - 2016-01-06 08:08 (UTC) - Expand

I love this! Bucky still thinking he has to do exactly what she wants, even though Katie is obviously the least intimidating and demanding person possible, and trying so hard to please her. (And I like to think that at least someone got some good memories out of this deal, because I bet he made it really good for her.)

Yay, thank you! <3 I definitely like to think Katie got some good memories out of this. And I'm so happy she came across as "the least intimidating and demanding person possible," since the idea was to make it very hard to argue that Katie is raping Bucky. Bucky doesn't want the sex here - as someone pointed out, he doesn't get to want or not want sex - but . . . it's not Katie's fault? ( . . . any more than it's Sam or Steve's fault?)

It's Hydra's fault. Everyone is victimized by Hydra 2k16.

If not for the trashy undertones that stay beautifully laced under the surface of every encounter here, this chapter would be so sweet and adorable. It almost still is, except for how Bucky's only have sex with her because he thinks he's supposed to, and doesn't understand that she probably would have been happy to just be friends right from the start if he'd been able to conceive of himself as a person and ask for that. I do feel like Katie probably walked away from this thinking, "Well, James is great at sex and really sweet, but clearly not ready to be someone's boyfriend so at least I get to be friends with him and now have some great experience for my actual boyfriend." Sam and Steve are going to be so hurt and confused when they find out about the other people Bucky's sleeping with, and I am so excited to see the fallout. (Not so excited, of course, that I'm not looking forward to more of Bucky having sex with random people before we get there)

Hah, that is definitely what Katie walked away thinking. :) And I'm delighted that the trashy undertones shine through. <3 Sweet, with an aftertaste of garbage: just one of many delicious trash flavors.

(OP) Still brilliant :D One of the best things about this is that you emphasize that Bucky has a real life of his own now. His adoration of his apartment is wonderful, and he's going to law school, and it all appears like he should be totally compos mentis, but he just isn't quite. It's a smaller detail but it really struck me that he had to muster up incredible courage just to tell Steve he couldn't Avenge anymore, and that he was bracing himself to be defiant in the face of punishment. The contrast is heartbreaking; on so many levels he's so functional, and then in other ways he's so broken. That brokenness seems like it runs very deep, if it's clung on through this much recovery. I love it.

AND THEN, I loved everything with Katie. Like others have commented, her sweetness makes his full capitulation to her desire stand out. That would have been a very cute, sweet fling of Bucky's if he had any ability to want it and consent to it. The moment where he had to think of nothing until the blowjob was over :( And even so, he still liked her. I guess it goes to show how clearly he can separate his opinion of someone from their use of him. Maybe because that's just the way the world works. People's abuse of Bucky isn't an indictment of THEM.

Re: more for less, 2/?

(Anonymous) - 2016-01-03 17:38 (UTC) - Expand

When David sees him naked, he's repulsed. "Christ, that's ugly. You really are disgusting, aren't you?" So James pulls his shirt on again to cover his scars, and David shoves him down over the back of the couch and fucks him mean, makes him bleed. Next time, James thinks, he'll stretch and slick himself before he comes over: he heals fast, but even so it's going to be harder to give the right answer tonight when Sam asks if he wants it. "You fucking slut, you fucking. Useless. Whore," David begins, and James listens for demands or directions in the stream of filth - but it's informational only, and nothing he doesn't already know, and eventually he lets himself drift.

David's a 3L, a rich kid with nice hair and a big dick and an offer from the London office of a top New York firm. They'd met in the cozy little student café, where James likes to review his reading before class and where tables tend to fill up around lunchtime. "Mind if I join you?" David had asked, his hand on the back of the chair across from James, and James nodded permission and David sat down with his sandwich and his casebook, flashing James a smile as he did so, bright and quick and clean. They'd read for a while in companionable silence, until James checked his phone to see the time - half an hour till class - which prompted David to check his as well, contagious as a yawn, and they shared a glance and David smiled again and gestured at James's open copy of Basic Contract Law and said, "Who do you have?" James told him, and they agreed that James's professor was brilliant, the best, and David asked what case he was reading, and they talked about that, and when David stood up to go James was not surprised to be handed a card and told to "Text me, yeah? We'll get a drink." (Well, he was surprised that the kid had a fucking business card, although he figures at this school he probably shouldn't be. But not by the demand - not after half an hour of David's eyes on him, David's smile.)

It hadn't been so bad, at first: a stupidly expensive drink somewhere in midtown, another back at David's stupidly expensive apartment, then James on his knees on the hardwood floor, David's hands in his hair not hurting, not forcing. But it hadn't taken David long to figure out that something was wrong with him. "You're so desperate for it," David told him, the fourth time, when James reached to open his belt. "You'll do whatever I want, won't you? It's pathetic." There was something offensive, James understood, about his willingness, his obedience, something that deserved contempt. When David hit him, dragging him off his cock to backhand him across the face, James knew it was this docility that was being punished. But when David yanked him up, shoving James's face back into his crotch, he opened his mouth. He didn't know what else to do. "I'm not even fucking gay," David hissed at him once, when he'd had too much to drink, and in fact it turned out that David had a girlfriend, an architecture student from Shanghai. James's thoughts had slowed to the Winter Soldier's deadly calm as he imagined David doing these things to her, but then he saw them together on campus, the girl's clear laughing face, and realized that of course he didn't. It was James who made David this way, who inspired revulsion and its corollary, the need to destroy. The violence stemmed not from who David was, but from who James was. It was his fault.

When David finishes with him, he goes home and gets cleaned up, his hands on his own body brisk and clinical as his shoulders relax under the shower's hot spray. Steve is in Europe on Avengers business - not a mission, something administrative and important and dull - and Sam is coming over tonight, which means James needs to figure out what he's going to cook. (Food - real food - is, in James's view, one of the signal pleasures of his freedom. Steve had given him a book of simple recipes as a housewarming present, and although he isn't particularly accomplished yet, Sam and Steve exclaim over every meal he prepares.) He washes his hair, fumbling a moment with the shampoo bottle because his right hand is shaking, and thinks about what's in the pantry, in the freezer. He'll make the ginger pork Sam likes, he decides, with roasted potatoes and a cucumber salad. That will be good.

After dinner, Sam puts on a movie, and James settles next to him on the sofa. Halfway through, he makes a tactical decision, and shifts so that his hand is resting on Sam's thigh. You fucking slut, he thinks, but Sam looks over at him and smiles, wide and warm. "You want something?" His tone is playful, soft with affection, and James gives his best suggestive smirk. Sam slouches a little into the cushions, spreading his legs, giving him access. James slips to his knees, and when he gets his mouth on Sam's cock, he sucks gently until it hardens. Sam groans softly, and fists a hand in his hair, and James forces himself not to tense in anticipation of the savage tug, the blow. That's stupid, though: Sam isn't David, and James isn't going to get hit unless he fucks up. He prefers to let his mind go blank, when he does this - it is, after all, one of the rare instances where Steve and Sam don't make him talk - but this time he doesn't dare. And it's fine, it's fine: and then Sam is coming down his throat.

"Fuck, that was amazing," Sam says, his voice gone rough with pleasure, and he pulls James up to kiss him. "You're amazing. Can I return the favor?" And this part - this part would be easier with David, who has no interest in touching his dick, and doesn't care if he's hard or not. With David, at this point, he'd be done. He thinks about lying back on the couch, letting Sam open his pants, expose him, and for a crazy moment he's not sure he can do it.

But of course he fucking can, and he does. He knows what Sam wants - Sam, like Steve, is beautifully easy to read, with the occasional painful exception - and the rest is just execution. His therapist has told him more than once to be gentle with himself, to be easy and forgiving of his own moods, and it is such manifestly sound advice that, when he remembers, he genuinely tries. You're tired, he tells himself now, like he'd tell a child, as Sam wraps a hand around him. You're tired, and sore, and spooked. This is nothing. This will be over soon, and then you can rest.

Later, after he brushes his teeth, James strips off his shirt and stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. The scars on his left shoulder are deep, tangled, vivid. Christ, that's ugly. Is it? He likes the arm. He knows it should be a reminder of everything that was done to him, everything he was forced to do, but it's not - it's just his. The scars are bad, sure, but Steve and Sam have never seemed bothered by them. You really are disgusting, aren't you? He notes with exasperation that his right hand has started to tremble again, minutely, and rolls his eyes at himself in the mirror. Be gentle. He needs fucking maintenance, and he's always allowed to ask for that. He takes his pants off as well, until he's standing there in just his boxers, and pads back into the bedroom, where the lights are already off, Sam stretched out under the covers in James's wonderful bed. James gets in beside him, and curls close. "Hey," he says. "My shoulder hurts." Sam pushes himself up on one elbow to look. "My left shoulder. Could you, ah - could you - "

"I could massage it for you," Sam says immediately. "Would that help?" James admits that it might, and Sam soothes his hands with love across the ruined skin, and makes James promise to tell him if it hurts. And he would - this is maintenance, feedback is important - but it doesn't, it doesn't at all. James falls asleep under Sam's kind touch, and the last thing he's aware of is Sam bending down to press a kiss to the ragged place where metal joins flesh. A kiss, and another, and another.