hydratrashmeme | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Три | 1963

This, the Winter Soldier thought, was undoubtedly the best indulgence he’d ever begged for.

Never mind that he couldn’t really remember anything he’d bartered in the past. Hydra let him remember only what they needed. All the same he couldn’t imagine having scored anything finer than this. Warm, clean water rained down on him from the showerhead, gentle as a summer storm. He’d seen other agents in here before and coveted this the instant he understood that it’s what they used instead of the hose. Even the soap – a bar instead of powder – smelled different. He rubbed suds off his thighs, marveling at how the heat melted away the little stiffnesses and aches in his muscles. He’d paid dearly for this, but it was worth it.

His timing had been perfect. Hydra was so very, very pleased with his work. He’d helped them shape history just days ago, and the entire compound was in good sorts. His masters had allowed him to sit at their feet while they feasted, their very finest weapon proudly on display. And when he was led to the tiled room and readied the hose, he hit his knees and said «Please, sir, a request,» and they’d granted it.

Much went into giving him access to this room. His masters went through a lot of trouble to make this happen for him, and it never would have happened at all had he not done so very, very well in Dallas. It was only right that he make payment to a number of the men who’d made this possible. It had hurt as bad as a bullet by the time the last one finished with him, but the water felt like what he imagined forgiveness must be.

His flesh hand reached back to rub soap on himself again, and he hissed as it touched little tears that hadn’t closed yet. They weren’t bleeding anymore but there was still more seed to clean out. So this is how the agents found him: alone in the showers, carefully fingering himself to clean come out of his ass.

«What the fuck are you doing in here?!» a voice barked.

Instinctively the asset put his right side to the tiled wall and took a ready stance while carefully extracting his fingers from himself. There were two of them clad only in towels, one tall, the other ugly. The asset couldn’t recall their names just then but they weren’t low-ranking enough that killing them would be swept under the rug easily, if it came down to it.

«I paid for it,» he growled back. The Winter Soldier straightened to his full height, and for a moment the display made the agents balk, but the ugly one stared at his hip where rough hands had bruised him.

“Пидорас,” the man spat, and the asset had to hold back a flinch; he was only called that during beatings or payment, especially where the two overlapped. «Looks to me like you didn’t pay enough. Still not satisfied, you slut?»

The tall one seemed to catch on then. «You haven’t paid us yet. The showers are ours right now and you’re using them on our time.»

«You know what to do,» the ugly one smirked.

He did know what to do. The asset’s jaw clenched to keep from speaking. This wasn’t right, he’d already paid – but Hydra’s word was the whole of his reality, and it was not his place to question any price. The water suddenly felt hot as he turned, placed his hands on the wall, and spread his feet apart. He counted his breaths while listening to towels dropping and bare feet plodding near.

For the sixth time that day, a man (the tall one, he noted with only vague interest) settled both hands on the asset’s hips and drove his cock inside. It slid in with little resistance, and he made a low sound at the sting of being stretched back open again.

«Fuck, he’s as loose as an old whore,» the agent swore.

The ugly one laughed and reached up to grab the asset by the hair. «He is an old whore. And he’s barely even a ‘he’ to start with. This thing’s more gun than man.»

The asset had no argument for any of that. A gun might be a less elegant weapon but at least it didn’t have any troublesome desires to get it into situations like this. Obediently, he moved his hands to the shorter agent’s waist and put his mouth where it was wanted.

«That’s right, bitch, suck it,» the ugly one wheezed. «Can’t get enough of it, can you? Bet you’re never happy unless you’ve got at least one dick in you. That’s why you look like such a fucking sourpuss – not enough dick!» (The asset tried his best not to snort at the absurdity of it.) «Don’t worry, little doll, we’ll give you plenty.»

Neither of them seemed to care that they were getting wet all over again. Shallow thrusts shoved the pit-faced agent’s length into the asset’s throat, daring him to gag but finding no reflex there. Something about this sparked a flare of annoyance: no low-level technician needed to show the Winter Soldier how to suck a dick. The man swore even louder and filthier when the asset knocked his hand out of the way and took charge, determined to make this brief: he cupped the agent’s balls with one hand, worked his shaft with the other, and pushed back against the tall one’s thrusts.

The taller one, to his credit, was quieter, which made him less annoying. The occasional «Fuck, it’s so hot in there» or «Take it, bitch» was all the input he had to offer aside from a chorus of grunts and groans. It almost made up for the fact that he was causing more pain: his was not a small dick by any stretched, even with the asset’s hole stretched out already, and there was only water to slick the way. His thrusts were deep and hard, as if he were determined to shove himself three inches deeper than he had length to give. They chafed the asset’s swollen rim and rubbed his insides raw. It hurt, it hurt, he knew the hottest streams of liquid running down the insides of his thighs were blood – but he bounced on the man’s dick all the same, chasing him to orgasm as best he could.

The sticky-hot surge of come flooding his depths was a blessing: it meant that part was done.

The ugly one lasted longer, somehow. His fat cock plowed into the asset’s throat again and again, and the man never seemed to let up on his increasingly-nonsensical stream of verbal abuse. Once the tall one slipped out of his ass, the asset dropped to his knees and bobbed his head in earnest. Almost done, almost done, he chanted in his head.

When at last the agent finished, he held the asset’s head still with two fistfuls of wet hair and pulled out to shoot all over the Winter Soldier’s face. Thick strands of come painted him from forehead to chin, catching on his eyelashes and nose. The agent rubbed the tip of his cock off on the asset’s red, puffy lips and shoved him away.

«Fucking filthy,» the man wheezed. «Clean yourself up, pig-whore. You’re lucky we let you use so much water.»

The agents staggered off to retrieve their towels and carry on their way. Their self-satisfied laughter echoed off the tiles like ghosts of shame. But machines have no shame, now do they.

The asset sat still and leaned against the wall for a long minute after they were gone, letting the water beat down on him in silence. Then he stood, turned his face into the shower, and let it wash him clean.

PIG WHORE!!!!!! I haven't even read this yet but I'm already walking on sunshine

(da) I love this comment out of context (also, I mean, #same) and I love everything about this story, especially:

Shallow thrusts shoved the pit-faced agent’s length into the asset’s throat, daring him to gag but finding no reflex there. Something about this sparked a flare of annoyance: no low-level technician needed to show the Winter Soldier how to suck a dick.

Omg, dream characterization. Can't wait for more.

OP here: Thanks! :) :) The Winter Soldier isn't afforded that much sass but he's willing to exercise it for "LET GO OF MY EARS I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING DOWN HERE."

This keeps getting better and better! Getting a shower in exchange for >8 dicks *and* the Kennedy assassination? Love the little nods to the previous parts, too. <333

OP: Well he can't go thinking he can ask for something that outlandish all the damn time, now can he? ;D Thankya, thankya *happily throws discarded eggshells and used kleenex around like confetti*

Oh my, this just keeps getting better and better.

"the water felt like what he imagined forgiveness must be."
help

Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Unprompted Fill: Skin Trade 3/6

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