hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

Okay, kids, you know the drill. Don't be a jerk except to fictional characters. Warn if you want, but read at your own risk, because

hydratrashmeme is about as far from a safe space as you can get. Garbage we like: noncon, whump, aftermath, violence, mind control, inappropriate uses of Bucky Barnes' metal arm, bad guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves. Garbage you should find a different trashcan for: a/b/o, D/s-verse, soulbonds, mundane AUs, OOC evil!good guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves, rotting leftovers dressed up as a romantic gourmet meal. Nothing wrong with 'em, but this isn't the crowd you should be pitching to if you're trying to sell Brock Rumlow as anything but a human dumpster fire.

Link your fills on the fill post, post unprompted fills as replies to a header comment so the wall o' text is collapsible, and let me know if you're interested in helping out with the Pinboard archive.

[Rules in full] [Round 1] [Round 2] [Round 3] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by

greenkirtle)] [Round 4 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

All prompts or fills that contain Infinity War spoilers must go on the Infinity War spoiler post until May 26th. Spoilers in the main dumpsters will be deleted.

Round 4 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 5.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Yes please!

YES. Let's be honest I can and will read victim!WS fics from dawn to dusk but I would love to see him get his dick/metal hand in someone.

Does OP have a preference as to whether he assaults a male or female character?

I don't think you need to apologize for adding filth to the dumpster, Author Anon.

Just keep it coming, please.

Hmm, this feels uncomfortably close to the dark!good guys rule.

I was thinking that too, but then I realized if you wrote it as The Winter Soldier and less of The Asset, you can give feelings and fear and shame but desire to obey but confusion but hurt (whispers of memories of someone teaching him how to do it by raping him???).

It doesn't necessarily have to be dark good guys.

No. It doesn't. Brainwashed Winter Soldier doing terrible things to people has been a staple of the trashmeme since day one.

No preference, I'm equal opportunity trash :P :D

Yeah, I was thinking brainwashed!WS, not evil!Bucky.

The room was about twelve feet deep. It didn't feel like twelve feet. Crossing it both stretched for an uncomfortable eternity and took no subjective time at all.

He lowered himself onto the foam pad next to the Winter Soldier with the same sort of care he'd used crossing minefields. If he touched it by accident, he might lose control. It was so appealing, even shaking and wet and miserable. The drugs weren't as powerful now as before they'd come together at the lab, but he could feel the effects building again and knew it was only a matter of time until his higher order thinking abandoned him again. Already Steve had compromised on crossing the line he had promised himself he wouldn't. All that was left was to try not to hurt it.

The asset's head swung in his direction but its face was still tipped down. It made no other movements.

Steve inhaled. "Asset. Do you know what's going on? Why we're here?" The air was freezing. The asset would be warm, but he couldn't given to his body's demands just yet. The least he could do was be better than HYDRA and do his best to look after it first.

"We were drugged. The Commander said you agreed to fuck me," it reported.

The words sent a jolt of helpless lust through him. Steve swallowed hard and nodded. His mouth was still a little dry. He uncapped one of the water bottles. "Yeah. I'm here to take care of you. Have some water, Soldier." Careful not to brush fingers, he passed the asset the open bottle before uncapping the other one for himself and taking a sip.

Without hesitation, the asset drank half the bottle. It sipped slowly at the rest, watching Steve through its hair. There was no point worrying about whether or not the water was safe. Neither of them were meant to believe themselves prisoners, the asset would take whatever it was given, and for now Steve had to do the same.

Steve drank some of his own water and then set it on the floor while he turned his attention to the silver packages. Some sort of bland meal bar that might've been unappetizing if Steve hadn't been starving.

He passed the other one to the asset, careful not to touch its hand. "Here, Soldier. Eat."

It wolfed the food down with such speed Steve wasn't sure it had chewed. It washed everything down with the last of its water. It shifted to its knees when Steve got up but when he only went back to the cardboard box by the door, it settled back down.

This time, Steve investigated the supplies they'd been given much more thoroughly. More food, a hell of a lot of lube, one roll of paper towels, the good kind, for scrubbing, and a smaller rectangular box inside a creased and torn blue and gold gift bag sporting cartoon fish and the words Happy Birthday Ashley! in silver marker scribbled over with black.

There wasn't an Ashley on the STRIKE team and Steve wasn't sure he wanted to know what was in the box. In his experience, HYDRA’s gifts tended to be things he didn't actually want any part of.

But whatever it was might be useful.

Steve slid his fingers under the lid of the box and warily eased it open. He took a moment to make sense of the contents and dropped the box back into the bag in disgust.

He'd been right to think he wanted no part of it. He wasn't one hundred percent positive he'd correctly identified everything but he couldn't imagine using any of it on the asset.

HYDRA was fucked up. Not that he'd ever had doubts.

...but they weren't meant to be HYDRA. Not now, not to Steve.

Maybe he could use that. Steve looked right into the camera over the door and shook his head, schooling his face into Captain America is Disappointed in You. “I’m disappointed,” he enunciated. “I'd expect SHIELD to do better than this. A lot better.”

He didn’t expect it to work and after half a minute with no response, he considered it confirmed.

Skin shifted over skin as the asset balled itself up tighter and released a shuddering breath.

“Please,” it breathed. “N-n-no trouble.”

“Hey,” Steve soothed, taking the supplies with him. “No one’s in any trouble. I'm still here.” He set everything down and went to one knee in front of the asset.

“Look at me.” He was getting better at looking at it and not seeing Bucky. “What do you need, Soldier?”

Incredulous reproach bloomed and vanished in an instant, hidden behind a crumbling facade of blank confusion.

“Please, Steve. I need you.”

Maybe it would have said more but with a hiss and a clang the door creaked open, revealing an impatient towel and magnet cuff bearing STRIKE Commander with the rest of the team behind him, hands on their weapons.

"For fuck’s sake, Rogers! You're not on a date."

Steve glowered at him. "Believe me, I know."

"But you're right and we can do better. Get up and bring your stuff,” Rumlow snapped as Steve scrambled upright. “You too, Soldier. On your feet.” The asset followed. Stray ice chips fell to bounce across the concrete. “One of the permanent staff said we could use her room. Camera, but no mic. It's closer to medical if something goes wrong."

Steve didn't want to question it. “Thanks.” He knew the part about the audio surveillance had to be a lie.

Rumlow just looked irritated and tossed the cuffs to him. “Your right to the asset’s left. Figure you'll go after each other before anyone else that way.”

The asset offered its metal wrist. Disappointment washed through Steve when touching it brought none of the relief of touching skin. He scooped up and passed the package of water bottles to it, careful not to make direct contact with it, and picked up the box under his other arm.

"Ready when you are," he told their teammates who backed up to allow the supersoldiers to exit.

It wasn't a long walk, which was good because the combination of proximity and movement was driving him crazy.

The room they were taken to was a smoothly finished rectangle and about half the size of the first. The usual occupants desk, chair, and metal storage rack were sitting in the hallway outside, leaving only the bed and a small table next to it. The bed was stripped down to only the white and gray geometric patterned bottom sheet and a light blue pillow. The table was bare. Steve put the box on it. The asset did the same with the water.

Steve removed the cuffs and tossed them back to Rumlow.

Rumlow tossed the towel at the asset. “Dry yourself.”

It backed up to the far wall, away from the open door, and started rubbing at its hair.

“Thanks,” said Steve. “This is much better. We’ll try to leave the bed in one piece.”

"Better not try too hard," said Rumlow. “Your mission is to fuck the asset on that bed. Collateral damage is expected. Don't care what you break as long as you get your dick in its ass.”

Steve stared down at his bare toes and swallowed hard. “I… I will.”

He looked up to find Rumlow studying him. A glance back at the others and he said, voice low. "Look, Steve, I get that you don't want to do this. I respect that. But you can't let personal shit like that get in the way of doing what has to be done. Got it?"

Shivering, Steve nodded. "Yeah. I know.”

Rumlow examined him critically. Steve tried not to fidget under his scrutiny. All he wanted right then was to be left alone with the Winter Soldier to figure things out.

Waving the others back, Rumlow took a step closer to Steve. “Let me give you some advice. I don't want this to fuck with your head more than it’s gonna anyway. A warm hole is a warm hole. Don't matter how you think about that hole, it's gonna feel good. And the asset is something special. The first time I fucked the asset it was so good I thought maybe there was something wrong with me. Everyone has that experience and who the hell knows, maybe the asset was designed like that, it’s not like it's human. You're going to enjoy yourself and that's normal, Steve, even if you’re not drugged. No one here’s gonna judge you for it.”

Steve tríed to imagine a reality in which HYDRA no longer existed and Rumlow was someone he could trust. He took a deep shuddering breath and tried to relax a bit. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Brock."

“Good. Then I’ll say just one more thing to help and leave you to it.”

“What's that?”

An anticipatory smirk. "Asset. Take Captain Rogers to bed.”

Strong arms encircled him from behind, soothing his skin and warming him through as the asset tumbled them both onto the bed. Steve felt it's hard cock against his back for a long delicious second before the asset somehow maneuvered him so he was sitting on its legs, staring down at it and gulping air like he'd been pulled from icy ocean.

For its part, the asset put its hand behind its towel-dry head and smiled up at him like he was the only thing in the world. It hurt.

But the way it shifted its thighs under his ass took his breath away and that wasn't pain at all.

Rumlow continued, “Neither of you are leaving until the Captain’s mission is complete and the drugs are out of your system. No cold feet. I'm authorizing Сценарий Z1 at your discretion, Soldier. Have fun, Cap!”

“What's…” Steve couldn't quite remember what Rumlow had said but it suddenly didn't seem so important anymore because the door closed and locked and he was alone in a bed with the Winter Soldier.

And it was smiling at him.

0. Brock Rumlow

Brock wakes up face-first into his pillow with not enough air in his lungs. When he tries to prop himself up on his elbows, he finds himself pinned down with a heavy hand between his shoulder blades. He gasps in surprise.

“Don’t move,” a voice whispers. Brock’s sleepy mind struggles to connect it to a face.

“What—” he starts, but the hand moves to the back of his head, shoves his face further into the pillow.

“Shut up.”

Brock finally recognizes the voice as Agent Foster. His blood runs cold as anxiety sets in the pit of his stomach. There’s something about Foster that unnerves him. Not his built, though Foster’s huge, a six-foot-five beast that could make Director Fury feel intimidated. No, it’s the way Foster always looks at him, with a nasty grin that lacks a couple of teeth. Brock has always tried to brush it off, though, treat Foster normally, so where does this come from?

Foster’s rough hand lands on his ass. His bare ass. He kicks out, his face hot, drooling on his pillow as he struggles to breathe.

“Get off me!” His voice is muffled and he’s not sure if Foster understands him. If it even matters.

“Shut the fuck up,” Foster hisses. His hand clenches Brock’s hip, his fingers digging hard enough to leave bruises. A wet lump grows in Brock throat, his eyes sting. “Or ya wake up the others. They’ll wanna join and I don’t wanna share.”

Brock freezes. The others. They’re in a safehouse, waiting for evac. There’s four other men sleeping on the floor around them. If they wake up and see… Brock’s just a rookie, his teammates don’t have a whole lot of respect for him, and if they see him pinned down like this, he can forget about ever being one of the guys.

“That’s better.”

Foster pulls his hips up easily, forces his thighs apart with his knee. The pressure on Brock’s head loosens and he draws in a deep breath, that hitches when an uneven fingernail presses against his asshole. His thighs close on their own.

“No, no, don’t,” he says lowly.

Foster brings his other hand to force his legs back open, too wide for Brock’s comfort. With the pressure pinning down his upper half gone, Brock makes an attempt to crawl away, already knowing it’s hopeless. One sharp pull, and Brock’s ass is shoved against – an odd, strangled sound escapes him as Foster’s hot, hard cock slips between his ass cheeks. His body trembles in revulsion, acid burns his throat. This isn’t happening, there’s no way this is happening.

He looks up, in search of something, any type of help, anything. A pair of pale eyes stares back at him and his heart skips a beat before he recognizes the Winter Soldier. He’s sitting on a chair, expressionless, M16 resting on his knees.

“Help me,” Brock mouths, staring at him wide-eyed and pleading.

The Soldier doesn’t even twitch and any hope Brock still had burns down to ashes. The Soldier is on the watch to protect them from outside threats. Not inside ones.

Foster’s huge hand grabs him by the nape and forces him down. The head of his cock pressing against Brock’s entrance is wet, but hardly slick. Brock doesn’t struggle this time. This is happening, no matter how unreal it feels. He rests his head on the pillow and focuses on a crack in the floor that quickly blurs as his eyes glaze over with hot tears.

The head of Foster’s cock pushes inside, and the pain of it blinds him. He bites his lower lip as his muscles clench around the intrusion. His nails dig into his palms as he folds them into fists and he tries to focus on that rather than a hot, pulsing dick tearing him apart. God, it feels enormous. Brock chokes on a sob and brings his hand to his mouth to shut himself up. One cock up his ass is enough. He doesn’t need another four.

Foster thrusts despite the resistance, his low moans and groans making Brock’s stomach churn. It goes on and on and on, long enough for Brock to minimally adjust to the pain. His body slumps, and Foster’s brutal thrust shoves him forwards. He’s all in, now, Brock feels his beefy stomach against the small of his back. Foster’s sweaty hand lets go of his nape, rubs his cheek instead.

“Such a pretty boy,” he whispers. “Our commander has good taste. They all been tellin’ ya to go for Special Service, no?”

Brock doesn’t confirm. Foster shoves Brock’s hand away from his mouth and forces his fingers inside, pressing his tongue down. They taste like sweat and dirt. Brock shuts his eyes. If Foster pushes any further, he’ll retch.

“Glad ya went for STRIKE after all.”

Brock’s whole body flinches as the cock inside him drags out unexpectedly, and then in yet again, Foster’s hips snapping into his.

Then it happens again.

And again.

Brock blinks away the tears. He’s biting on the thick fingers, drool spilling from his mouth, but Foster doesn’t seem to mind. Rough fingertips rub his tongue and he convulses. Foster’s body is heavy and sticky on top of his, his thrusts shoving him up on the sleeping bag in a punishing rhythm, like Brock’s just a rag doll.

Wetness fills him, leaks down his thighs and for a short moment Brock feels relieved, waits for Foster to stop, to pull out. But seconds pass and Foster’s still fucking him, his hard cock unrelenting and it downs on Brock he hasn’t yet come. It isn’t semen running down Brock’s legs. It’s blood. He gives a strangled noise, an urge to escape hits him again, and he struggles until Foster’s hand crushes his hip and he brutally thrusts in with a low growl. His body trembles, his fingers slide further into Brock’s mouth, making him choke and cough. Tears leak from Brock’s eyes as he struggles to take a breath.

Finally, Foster pulls out his fingers and Brock retches, coughs out saliva mixed with bile. The cock, now limp, drags out of his ass, spilling more liquid down Brock’s thighs. Brock looks up, watches Foster’s brawny form as he stands up, pulls his sweatpants up and walks away like nothing happened. Brock curls on his side slowly, his insides burning. He forces his stiffened arms to work and pulls his sleeping bag up to his chin. He doesn’t know where his pants went. His sore asshole feels wet. He doesn’t know what to do about it.

He looks up, his eyes still hot with tears. The Winter Soldier is staring at him, as expressionless as ever.

Brock’s chest burns with growing hatred.

OMG Rumlow you sly dog omggggggggggggg

The uneven fingernail! 0_0

Are we supposed to know what was in the box? Or should we just assume unsavory-kink-thing?

(A!A) Even I'm not entirely sure of what was in the box. Something Steve was disgusted to be presented with under the circumstances or couldn't identify and assumed it was worse than it is? Something otherwise harmless that he'd find absolutely offensive or inappropriate?

I was going to name the contents but decided it gives me more flexibility later if I didn't.

Some ideas I had: collapsible stun baton or taser, nipple clamps, lace panties, spider gag, open contain of edible body paint, ribbed sound, shock or choke collar, replica(?!) dog tags for one JBB, a set of scalpels and vaguely medical-looking small tools...

Or maybe it was vintage pornography.

(A!A) Oh, yeah. Rumlow is placed where he is for good reason.

What's in the boooooooxxxxxx???? *Brad Pitt Whine*

(A!A) I can't believe the box is the mystery people are focusing on, lol!

(da) I for one accept this Boxed McGuffin

DA I am going to shut up about the box after this, but what this Belle de Jour inspired?

I continue to be impressed by how good Rumlow's good-guy impression is. And it's so interesting to see "Brock" and "Steve" on their way to developing a friendship that's fake on both sides.

Can't wait to find out what Scenario Z1 is... also, I love how the consent issues are getting even more dubious with "at your discretion, soldier" -- clearly "Scenario Z1" means he'll be acting according to a Hydra-implanted playbook, but how much agency is he going to have in carrying it out?

(A!A) No. I had to look it up and I'm still not sure what you mean. It's a movie from 1968? Is that it?

I did not get that reference. Sorry.

(A!A) Thank you!

How many layers of consent issues do we have now? Three? Four?

The scenario is not something Steve is prepared for, but the asset is very pleased with its orders. As far as it's concerned, it's just been granted more freedom but with nice comforting guidelines.

I feel so bad for Steve but not bad enough to stop. ;-)

Whatever floats your boat. Hmm, toy boat?

Love the WS watching all this impassively, and Rumlow pleading with him to intervene before realizing that of course he won't, that's not his job. A small detail, but it makes everything so much worse—that someone could have helped him and didn't. Nicely done!

DA: And more than that, that's why Rumlow rapes the Asset once he has access: revenge for not helping. The echoed detail of his expressionlessness links the two.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

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Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

Re: WS rapes Hydra's enemies/vassals as an intimidation tactic

Re: WS rapes Hydra's enemies/vassals as an intimidation tactic

Re: [FILL] Party Time (1/?)

Re: WS rapes Hydra's enemies/vassals as an intimidation tactic

Re: WS rapes Hydra's enemies/vassals as an intimidation tactic

Re: WS rapes Hydra's enemies/vassals as an intimidation tactic

Re: WS rapes Hydra's enemies/vassals as an intimidation tactic

Re: WS rapes Hydra's enemies/vassals as an intimidation tactic

Fill 43/?: Undeniable Plausibility

Fill: 3 times brock rumlow raped someone +1 time he was raped [4/4]

Re: Fill 43/?: Undeniable Plausibility

Re: Fill: 3 times brock rumlow raped someone +1 time he was raped [4/4]

Re: Fill 43/?: Undeniable Plausibility

Re: Fill 43/?: Undeniable Plausibility

Re: Fill 43/?: Undeniable Plausibility

Re: Fill 43/?: Undeniable Plausibility

Re: Fill 43/?: Undeniable Plausibility

Re: Fill 43/?: Undeniable Plausibility

Re: Fill 43/?: Undeniable Plausibility

Re: Fill 43/?: Undeniable Plausibility

Re: Fill 43/?: Undeniable Plausibility

Re: Fill 43/?: Undeniable Plausibility

Re: I don't care. It goes up his ass.

Re: Fill: 3 times brock rumlow raped someone +1 time he was raped [4/4]

Re: Fill: 3 times brock rumlow raped someone +1 time he was raped [4/4]