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garbage all the way down ([personal profile] trashmod) wrote in [community profile] hydratrashmeme2015-09-09 07:23 pm

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.

[Round 1] [Round 2] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by [personal profile] greenkirtle)] [Round 3 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

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

Play to Win [2/3]

(Anonymous) 2016-06-27 08:36 pm (UTC)(link)
Woops, this took me a lot longer than anticipated. Real life kept getting in the way and whatnot. As a token of apology, please accept this video of a guy sticking a fleshlight up his ass, something that sadly won't make it into *this* fic. Maybe someday.
http://dns101.tumblr.com/post/115603775349/fleshlight-in-my-pussy
-----------

Kells made a little noise in the back of his throat and, suddenly, pulled out and stepped back a pace The Soldier supposed he was trying to aim for his eyes, and his stomach did a flip of joy when the cum hit his cheek and lips instead.

Kells swept some up with his thumb and pushed insistently at the Soldier’s closed lips. Hesitantly, he parted his lips and sucked on the finger, blinking slow and looking up from under his eyelashes at the man’s stupid satisfied smirk. Kells pet his head like a dog, before zipping up his pants and sauntering off and out of the Soldier’s view.

He wanted to sleep. He wanted to be out in the field doing what he was created to do. He wanted to do literally anything but the current mission. He knew every order, no matter how small or unpleasant, was necessary for Hydra’s to succeed. But the Soldier couldn’t for the life of him figure out the purpose of this. Was it punishment? Was it to test his loyalty? He knew better than to question his superiors, but sometime he wished he was allowed to ask, or even say ‘no’. Instead, as he saw Agent Rollins pulled out something long and smooth, he closed his eyes and will his body to relax. He is obedient. It’s what had made him valuable above all others.

Rumlow scoffed. “You are not sticking that whole thing in there.”

“Relax. I’m just gonna push it in a few inches. He’s not going to to get splinters up his ass, if that’s what you're worried about,” Rollins reassured, rubbing it between the Soldier’s glutes, slicking it up.

“We’re suppose to be working up to shit like that. I don’t want blood everywhere when you tear a new one.”

“Please, the diameter is the same as Welk’s stupid phone. Plus, this is like, half the size of what Westfield has. I checked.”

“What exactlyisthis mysterious dick compensation he’s hiding?”

“You don’t like surprises?”


“No.”

“Too bad.”

The Soldier was glad no one had his mouth anymore, because he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from clamping down. He could tell, and he hated how he could, that the object in question was a baseball bat; he hoped when he spit out a mouth full of blood that it wouldn’t be taken as a sign of disrespect to what the agents were doing. Even if he half meant that way.

Mercifully, he felt more lube being poured, however little it helped. It felt so much bigger than the phone, and Rollins kept pushing it in for what felt like an eternity. There was just no give whatsoever, and the Soldier could swear he was being split in half. Tears spilled down his cheeks and dripped down his chin and finally, finally it stopped moving.

His hole twitched and spasmed around the bat, desperately trying to both push it out while also making room for it. There was pressure on everything, and the Soldier felt like he needed to cum and piss and pass out all at once.

The Soldier couldn’t actually look to see, but he was hard. He was hard and God, he really hoped he wouldn’t be reprimanded for that. Nobody said either way if he’d be allowed some release, but the rule of thumb was if he wasn’t told that he could, and he wasn’t out in the field, then it was best to not do it.

He tried to will it to go down. It didn’t even feel good. Suddenly, the girth was being pulled back and he nearly cried in relief.

“Oh good, someone’s finally gettin’ in on the fun.”

It was a new voice, one the Soldier couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t unusual; he rarely retained memories of his superiors. He usually went out on missions alone, and even when he had the STRIKE team as backup, names didn’t matter. He simply held out his hands, and weapons were placed in them.

A slick, loose grip started off with a few tugs, slightly, slowly dulling the ache in his hole.

“Always such a slut for it, goddamn<. Man, just wait ‘til you guys see what I brought. Guarantee it blows everyone else’s outta the water.”

“Calm down, Harrison.”

Harrison scoffed, gripping the Soldier’s cock a little tighter.

The Soldier gasped, twitching his hips up a little. The movements sped up ever so slightly, sometimes stopping for a moment to tease the tip with light strokes, smearing around little droplets of precum. He couldn’t exactly participate, so instead the Soldier closed his eyes and imagined himself someplace else, with someone he actually desired pleasuring him. His mind drifted, conjuring up some meaningless backdrop. It didn’t matter. But there was a bed, and it was almost uncomfortably soft. On it was a slender, shapely body, smooth pink lips, blond hair that shimmered in the streaks of light escaping through the old, dusty muslin curtains. Broad fingers and calloused palms that touched him in all the ways he wanted, bringing him just to the point of-

Harrison withdrew, slapping the Soldier’s ass on the way. The Soldier grunted in frustration, and couldn’t help when he jerked against the metal clamping down his arms and hands. Another slap, not as playful as the last. It stung, and he could feel a bruise forming just under the skin.

Rollins shoved the bat back in, further than originally and began to work it in and out, getting rougher with each thrust.
Rumlow stepped around the platform and bent over so that he nearly touched noses with the Soldier.

“Remember. Your. Place. You take what we give you, and thank us for all of it. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir,” he replied miserably.

“We don’t owe you anything. So if you want to cum, you’d better fucking earn it.”
-------

Rumlow stood back up and looked back down on his masterpiece. The Soldier’s cock was flushed a pretty shade of crimson, pointing straight as an arrow towards the ground. He really wished he had some ribbon, or hell a cock cage. Something to cinch around that monster prick the Soldier was swinging around. Though really, letting it cum would help it loosen its hole faster, so it was probably for the best. The only thing more beautiful than watching not-quite-Bucky-Barnes-anymore slaughter targets with machine precision was watching all that programing breakdown as they stretched its asshole beyond recognition. Already the rim was turning light shade of purple, all wet and nasty and wrinkled like a really pussy. And at the end of the day, when they threw the Soldier’s brain back in the blender, all that pain, all the animalic desperation begging to take Hydra cock would stick. Not the intimate details, of course. Just the feelings. The sense of place and purpose.

“There, he ought to be ready for something bigger now.” Rollins said it very matter o'fact-ly, but with a sly grin he couldn’t quite hide. He pulled the bat out in one swift motion, leaving the Soldier gasping and clenching his fists. He held it in one hand, swinging a little side to side like he was ready to step up to plate. He stopped only long enough to smear some of the unspeakable gunk off on the Soldier’s face. The soldier winced, setting off a round of laughter from those who’d been paying attention.

Harrison didn’t even bother to wait for Rumlow to ask. He just stepped up, and from his pocket pulled a maybe half a foot tall Captain America action figure. Rumlow barked out a laugh.

“Okay that is pretty good. Wait, let me see it it real quick.”

Rumlow dangled the toy by on of its posable little arms and dangled it in front of the Soldier’s face. If it knocked anything loose, it didn’t show. The Soldier just looked blankly ahead, not a thought in that cobweb filled head.

“Whaddya think, Soldat? A lot of history nerds thought the two of you might’ve been fucking. Time for a reunion, eh?”

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Well, since you asked so nice.”

Rumlow tossed it back to Harrison, who just coated the whole thing before easing it in, as though that would make up for the awkward shape catching on all the raw, sensitive skin. He’d posed it with one tiny fist straight up, and the other tucked against Cap’s little star spangled torso.

The whole thing was soon buried in the Soldier’s ass with a squelch. It must have pinched something with the joints too, because the Soldier’s whole body lurched forward, eyes bulging, nose flaring in sad attempt to remain composed.

“Aw, it’s too small for him! Anyone else got something we could add?” Harrison shouted.

Jenkins, who’d been skulking off to the side and palming himself through his pants, took a quick look around before snatching a doorstopper laying a few feet away. “This should do the trick.”

The Soldier’s eyes fluttered shut with a whimper, bracing himself. It wasn’t like the doorstopper was all that big, not compared to the bat, but it was covered in grime from the floor and just as long as the action figure. Last time around, everyone had made a game of how many pens they could stuff inside the Soldier’s ass, and Rumlow wondered if that wasn’t too easy. ‘Cause for all that moaning and groaning, the Soldier was still taking both objects like champ as the rubber wedge slipped in without a trace.

Jenkins cursed, huge grin on his face, and unzipped himself. People were lining up to see how many more small objects they could fit it, and Jenkins took advantage of the Soldier's distraction wrench its mouth open and bury himself to the hilt in one smooth movement.

The Soldier’s fingers curled and uncurled, trying to flinch his head back to breathe. Harrison just gripped its hair and pulled until the Soldier’s nose was mashed up against Harrison’s briefs.

Smith was in the process of trying to jam a pocket-sized stapler in next to Webb’s empty Tic Tac box, and if Rumlow weren’t saving himself to the Soldier’s ass later, he might’ve creamed his pants at the sight of it.

Re: Play to Win [2/3]

(Anonymous) 2016-06-27 08:38 pm (UTC)(link)
uuuh, that is not where I meant to post part two...

mb. DOnt get confused, people.

Re: Play to Win [2/3]

(Anonymous) 2016-06-27 08:46 pm (UTC)(link)
Do you want met to delete and repost,or are you fine with this?

Re: Play to Win [2/3]

(Anonymous) 2016-06-27 08:50 pm (UTC)(link)
No it's cool. They're numbered so hopefully people wont get too confused. Thanks!

Re: Play to Win [2/3]

(Anonymous) 2016-07-02 03:31 am (UTC)(link)
this is such an extraordinary offering to the object insertion/size kink god of trash, thank you

Re: Play to Win [2/3]

(Anonymous) 2016-07-04 12:19 am (UTC)(link)
Holy shit, anon. This is hot as hell! A+++++ I'm loving the object insertion happening here - you are SERIOUSLY delivering on it.

Play to Win [3/3]

(Anonymous) 2016-07-04 02:58 am (UTC)(link)
Happy Steve Roger's birthday, everyone! Have the conclusion to the fic where his best friend gets reamed by an action figure. Also, correction for part 2/3: I seem to have mixed up Westfield and Jenkins during the last few paragraphs there. A dick is a dick is a dick, but still, I promise to clean this mess up a before I throw it up on AO3.
------

The Soldier must have passed out, because the next thing he knew a bucket of freezing, dirty grey ice water was dumped on his head. His chest heaved as he tried to gulp down more air. Half a dozen men surrounded the Soldier, their faces ranging from unconcerned to mild annoyance.

“Sheesh. You’d think after sixty some years, ice wouldn't bother a guy anymore.”

“The thing’s fine, just being a baby. Hey!”

Some fingers snapped in his face. The Soldier was torn between wanting to bit those fingers off and just falling back under.

“You with us?”

He nodded. “Yes sir.”

“See Jenkins? I told you he couldn’t hold his breath that long. Gotta let ‘im breathe. Sorry your precious ding dong might get cold.”

“Whatever. I finished anyway.”

The Soldier wanted to throw up. All he could taste was nasty, bitter spunk. If he’d been conscious, he could’ve at least tried to swallow right away, keeping it off his tongue. Under ideal conditions, he could hold his breath for six minutes or so. The fact that he passed out so quickly meant something was severely compromised, and he was vulnerable. Useless. Maybe he’d been damaged before the session even began. Maybe that was the true purpose of his current treatment. His masters had no other use for him.

The Soldier’s breath hitched, and he broke out into a fresh bout of tears. Of the faces surrounding him, their expressions ranged from genuine surprise to exasperation. But all the movement behind him paused, and Rumlow dropped down to be level with the Soldier again.

“Aw, what’s the matter baby? Do you hurt?”

The Soldier hiccuped. “I’m just… I’m just not sure what the point of this exercise is, sir.”

Rumlow looked to the men still standing up, most of whom just shrugged their shoulders. He turned back to the Soldier, looking very impatient. He wrapped a gloved hand around the Soldier’s neck, squeezing just hard enough to feel it, but not cut off air.

“What is your position here in Hydra, Soldier.”

The Soldier felt dizzy. Someone already resumed fucking him with the children’s toy, pushing everything else stuffed inside him further inwards and pinching the sensitive skin around the rim.

“I am the fist of Hydra. My compliance will help bring order to the world,” he droned, parroting the words of some long forgotten propaganda film.

“That’s right,” Rumlow said, barely holding back from sneering. “And ‘compliance’ means shutting the hell up and not questioning orders. You don’t even know your own goddamn name, but you want to know ‘the point’. Christ almighty, the mouth on you.”

He yanked his hand away and stood up with a look of disgust. On the upside, the Soldier could feel his erection wilting, a small but welcome relief. Even if it also left an aftertaste of frustration.

“Get that shit outta his ass. Welk, get over here and finish this so we can ream this ungrateful prick.”

The Soldier felt hot with shame. He wanted to bury his head in the crook of his arm. He settled for shifting his hair so that it fell in front of his eyes. The toy, the doorstopper, it was all taken out and thrown off to the side. The man the Soldier guessed must be Welk was soon looming over him.

The guy had an awful grin on his face, and the Soldier looked up just enough to see what he was carrying; a bowling pin, huge and heavy in his hands. The Soldier didn’t even mean to, since it was more out of a deep animalistic reflex, but he jerked against the restraints. He could, with enough time and effort, break them. But it was a fight he’d lose, even if he could such disobedience. He still couldn’t seem to stop panicking, though, and he felt his wrists and forearms starting to bruise.

“Oh, that is nasty, Westfield.”

He felt light headed, probably from hyperventilation. Maybe, if he could break his thumb, he could at least get enough of his arm free in time to snatch the pin and smash it.

Rumlow grabbed a fist full of the Soldier’s hair and locked eyes with him. “Soldat,” he hissed, “behave.”

His mind clouded over, and the Soldier’s muscles relaxed.

Welk made a show of grabbing the lube, dragging it past the Soldier’s field of vision. The Soldier could feel it all over the his backside, being worked into his ass in messy globs. His hole was absolutely drooling, and he supposed he should at least be thankful this all wasn’t being done dry. But a small piece of him, way down inside, protested the whole ordeal. Why was this even happening? How in God’s name did his life become this? A figure feared by many, while simultaneously thrown to these wolves for amusement. That part of him said he wasn’t meant to be here. No one in the world should have to go through this. That this was wrong. The Soldier nearly bit off his tongue as the pin breeched him.

It stretched and it stretched and it hurt. Not bullet wounds to the kidney or lungs pierced by hundred mile an hour shrapnel could possibly touch it. The physical pain topped with the unshakeable sense of injustice at it all was more than he could bare and he collapsed, as much as he could, in the restraints and sobbed openly.

There was a flurry of movement in his periphery, and a moment later all he could feel was the sting of leather on his left cheek. The crying turned into desperate gasps for air.

“Shut up. We’re not even halfway done.”

The squelch of lube and solid thirty seconds of silent screaming later, it was completely inside him. A whole five inch diameter of polished wood stuffed in the Soldier’s backside. Welk worked it in and out, plowing the Soldier’s insides with each thrust. He found himself moving his hips in motion with the pin, slightly easing the pressure. They couldn’t avoid his prostate even if they wanted to, and soon his cock was perking back up.

“Jeez, for all that bitching he’s still enjoying it plenty. Aren’t you, Soldier? What do you say?”

“Th-thank… thank you, sir,” he gasped.

His back arched. He was aching for a million different forms of release, and he wasn’t sure which he needed the most. His eyes rolled back, and he thought for a moment he was about to pass out again. He rolled his hips back on the thing, trying to grind down on just the right spot, ignoring the feeling like his skin was going to tear any moment and…

It was gone. He was wide, gaping open and could feel it. Could feel his hole weakly trying to spasm shut, all the while oozing lube that fell to the floor with a splat. His cock shot out a pathetic stream of cum, barely leaving a dent in his general sense of desperation and discomfort. It almost felt worse.

“Looks like we don’t have to use the fleshlight this time.”

Someone else whistled. “Look at that sloppy cunt.”

“What do the kids call it? A rosebud or something?”

“Soldier, your guts are hanging out. Want us to push them back in for you?”

“Look at him, he’s fucking the air!”

The Soldier caught himself still swaying forward and back, open mouthed and panting hard. With one last thrust of his hips into nothing, he let his shoulders sag. He was almost grateful for the frame and cuffs clamping down on him, because it was also the only thing holding him up. He heard the bowling pin being dropped to the ground.
------

Rumlow shot Rollins a look, and soon everyone broke out in a stupid grin.

The Soldier was already drifting off as Rumlow prepared to ruin his nice leather gloves once and for all. Totally worth it. He’d buy new ones.
He didn’t even bother tucking his thumb, just made a fist and popped it right in and out without any resistance. The Soldier grunted weakly, but didn’t move.

“Yep, all ready. Form an orderly line, boys, and watch how to fuck a cunt properly.”

Rumlow grabbed a handful of ass on each side and dove in. He wished he could tease the Soldier about how loose and sloppy it was, but then it might try to tighten up, and they did not just spend the last hour working on this for a little dirty talk. The Soldier could and would crush their dicks like a fucking boa constrictor if given the chance, so the trick at this point was to keep something in its ass until they were totally done. Like a steady stream of cocks.

“You like this? Moan for it, bitch. Tell me you like it.”

“I like it,” the Soldier slurred.

“Show me how much. Fuck yourself on me.”

The Soldier thrust back pathetically, barely mustering up the energy moan at an audible frequency.

“I dunno Rumlow, maybe you’re not enough for the slut,” Rollins said.

He was about to back with something snappy when he saw what Rollins was holding. In one hand a roll of Scotch tape and the other, a slimy Captain America doll. Rumlow craned his neck and watched Rollins messily curl the tiny little arms and legs around the Soldier’s dick and taping it into place.

“There. Reunited at last.”

Rumlow grasped at the Soldier’s hips, leaving filthy, slick smears on its skin. “Aren’t you going to thank Rollins?”

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”

God, this was going to be a good party.

Re: Play to Win [3/3]

(Anonymous) 2016-07-05 09:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh my god, yes. This is lovely. Thank you, A!A for writing this!!! Happy Birthday Steve, indeed