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.

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(AA) Thanks to everyone who commented. Reactions and suggestions are always appreciated.
____________________

Steve and Sam came home early that afternoon, giving Bucky plenty of time to clean up what had happened in his room. In the haze of his horror and vindictive rage he hadn’t realized the magnitude of the damage he’d done to his possessions. There were blood and ash on the comforter, with more on the floor, and his vomit had dried in foul-smelling chunks. He dressed in ratty jeans and a T-shirt, ran the comforter through the washing machine of their in-unit laundry room at the end of the hall, then sprinkled baking soda over the dark blotches of ash on the carpet and over the larger spot where he’d puked. While he waited for the baking soda to set he managed to scrub all the blood out of the carpet with steel wool, cold water, and detergent. He transferred the comforter to the dryer, then ran the vacuum cleaner over the mounds of baking soda on the ash and wiped the remaining marks away with solvent and a white cloth. The final task was by far the worst, but he scraped away all the clumps of baking soda and vomit that he could, before running the vacuum over the remainder. He soaked what was left after that in the solvent, scrubbing it away with another old cloth.

It took over four hours for Bucky to clean everything, but by the time he was done there was only a faint discoloration where the vomit had been, and no trace of blood or ash in the carpet. When he pulled his comforter from the dryer, unbearably warm yet inviting in his hand, it was free of blood. He hid the burns by turning it over on his bed. He threw the clothes he was wearing into the washer, washed his hands in the bathroom sink without looking at the mirror, and went back to his room to get dressed. He surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction. No one would notice the blemish in the carpet unless they were searching for it. It wasn’t for anyone else, anyway, it was for him. This was his space, and he was proud of his hard work.

“Order through pain,” he reminded himself. He couldn’t let himself take too much pride in this. “Order through- ”

His stomach grumbled audibly, interrupting him and reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since throwing up dinner last night. He went to the kitchen and fried up two eggs and four thick strips of bacon with butter. He ate them with an apple, sitting on the couch and watching part of a documentary on the history of the Hubble Space Telescope. As a boy, he would scarcely have believed what scientific leaps the future would take, but the man that boy had become had seen much stranger things in the long, cold years that stretched behind him. He watched in mild curiosity as scientists and engineers explained things with which he might have been utterly fascinated all those years ago, but not anymore. Not after-

A slideshow of images captured by the telescope flashed across the gigantic television screen that Sam had insisted they needed, and at the moment Bucky was inclined to agree with him. Glowing clouds of purple and blue gas swirled together with inky rivers of dust as bright stars twinkled behind the breathtaking maelstrom, and he felt something swell inside his chest. Maybe he hadn’t lost his wonder completely.

He took his dishes to the sink during a commercial break and started brewing a pot of coffee. For the next hour he paced between the television and the coffeemaker, trying to quell the sense of awe that image had stirred in him. He was still pacing when he heard Sam and Steve’s voices outside the front door, and he rushed to the couch, pretending he’d been sitting there and watching TV the whole time. Like a person would.

Sam entered the apartment first, laughing at something Steve had said. Bucky glanced over his shoulder, affecting nonchalance. Sam sniffed the air, eyes zeroing in on the full coffeepot with interest. Bucky had been so distracted he hadn’t poured himself any of the coffee he’d brewed.

“Aww, did you make us coffee, Barnes?”

Bucky settled into the routine, glowering at Sam.

“Don’t be stupid, Wilson. I forgot you guys were even comin’ home today.”

“Nice to see you, too, Buck.”

Steve smiled and went to put his duffel bag in his room. Bucky nodded at Steve with a half-smile, never taking his eyes off Sam.

“Don’t you touch that coffee.”

Sam raised an eyebrow as he dropped his duffel bag in the entryway and made a beeline for the coffee. Bucky leapt over the back of the couch and rushed to block Sam off from the cupboard where they kept the mugs. His laughter felt almost genuine.

“Children, behave,” Steve admonished mildly when he reentered the kitchen to find Bucky and Sam feinting rushes at each other. “Please don’t break anything.”

“He started it!”

Bucky and Sam growled simultaneously, glaring at each other. The corners of Sam’s mouth were fighting back a smile. Bucky mimicked the expression.

“Tell you what,” Steve walked around both of them to get a mug from the cupboard. “Since I’m pretty sure I bought the coffee this time, I’ll share it with both of you. Sound good?”

Steve poured a cup for each of them while Bucky went to turn off the TV. They sat around the table together, silently after Sam had stopped griping about how weak the coffee was, and did you even follow the brewing instructions on the back, Barnes? Bucky hadn’t. He’d read them, and cut the amount of grounds in half. He’d been wasteful enough this week.

After coffee, Steve and Sam went to shower. Sam retrieved his duffel bag and headed for the largest bathroom. Steve asked Bucky if he could use the smaller, and Bucky agreed easily. As if Steve needed to ask his permission. Steve’s grateful smile made his heart jump, and his left hand curled into a tight fist as he tried to quell it. He tried to remember if there was any proof of his penance left in the bathroom for Steve to find. He didn’t think so. He’d chipped the sink, but that was easily explained away. All the damage had been done to his bedroom, and he’d cleaned that up satisfactorily. Not that Steve would ever need to go into his bedroom.

Steve disappeared down the hallway and Bucky went to write down the memory from last night. He’d been putting it off, as horrific as it was, even compared to the other horrors inscribed on the notebook’s pages, but it was time to man up and get it done. He wrote it out as vaguely as he could, because he was a coward, but he wrote it down. He went back to the kitchen and finished the remaining half-pot of coffee. It wasn’t a reward, he reminded himself. He didn’t deserve a reward. It was just to piss Sam off.

Sam emerged from the shower first, and reacted as Bucky had anticipated. Bucky liked this part of his performance best. Performing with Sam was almost fun. Sam made a new pot of coffee. Bucky watched him measure out the grounds with pointed looks over his shoulder. He was pretty sure Sam added extra, but he didn’t have any to verify.

The fact that Bucky's deriving secondary near-pleasure from pretending to have fun with his friends is heart-wrenching.

This is the good shit oh no halp

Once the asset was convinced Steve had given up his attempts to escape for the time being, it scooted over so its legs remained draped over his lap but it sat between Steve and Rumlow.

Miserably, Steve was reminded of the restraining bars on roller coasters.

He’d never enjoyed those either.

Another type of torture, most likely. Steve hated being helpless.

That was unfair of him. He knew what torture was like, even if he hadn’t been the victim.

Don’t think about it.

The movies were predictably horrible. What he hadn’t predicted was how boring they were. The first one was a grainy old surveillance video of the asset sitting at a table a small windowless room studying a pile of files and photographs. Every so often, it stopped to make notes on a pad of paper.

A man in an unfamiliar military uniform Steve assumed was Russian walked into the frame and stood against the wall, watching it. There was no sound.

Rumlow provided narration. “You’ll have seen some of these before but not the ones this early.”

Terrible quality or not, the video was at least in color. Had the video been colorized? The Winter Soldier’s hair was shorter. When he opened his mouth to speak, the asset shoved the rest of the meal bar between his lips before he got a sound out.

It glared while he chewed. Did it only follow the instruction not to look at Steve when he had handler privileges?

“The Barnes Protocols are set of programmed conditions under which the asset may act according to one of multiple scenarios. The scenarios range from allowing it to mimic some vocal patterns and behaviors to several options for full immersion in Barnes’ identity with a variety of explanations for its appearance. The skillset is intended for infiltration, to gain access to targets, although it has…” Rumlow paused with a badly-concealed smirk. “It has other uses.”

Addressing the asset, voice thick with crumbs, Steve asked weakly, “You can make yourself think you’re really him?” He didn’t want to speculate about the reason for the smirk.

It nodded.

“How does that work?”

The asset looked confused, appealing mutely to Rumlow. When Rumlow shook his head, it dropped its eyes without answering.

“You’re not cleared for that information yet, Steve,” Rumlow told him. “But it’s all a matter of programming and conditioning.”

“Why the hell are showing any of this to me if you’re not gonna explain?” Steve demanded.

Something crinkled loudly against his right palm. Another meal bar, pressed between his hand and the asset’s. When he didn’t move, the asset exhaled in something between a huff and a sigh and took it back, tearing it open with its teeth before holding the bar in front of Steve’s mouth.

“You better let it take care of you,” Rumlow warned. “And stop talking. Here comes something you’ll be interested to see. Just calm down and maybe you’ll learn something.”

Another objection was thwarted by the forceful introduction of more food to Steve's mouth.

“Stop that!” Steve hissed once he’d recovered.

It looked to Rumlow, who smiled at it and brought up a hand to squeeze the junction of its neck and shoulder. It tensed and then relaxed its back against Rumlow’s side. “That’s right, Soldier. You only follow my orders for now.”

The asset nodded. It held up the meal bar for Steve again.

Deciding to pick his battles, Steve reluctantly leaned forward and took another bite. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks but his body needed the calories anyway. If he didn’t eat, he’d just get weaker.

On screen, the man in the uniform stepped away from the wall.

“Here we go,” Rumlow said quietly.

Very carefully, the asset focused on feeding Steve without looking at the television. He could feel the tension in the legs trapping him on the couch.

The man said something. The asset on screen looked up, eyes wide and expression somewhere between wary and blank. Another command and its mouth twisted into a horrible approximation of Bucky’s easy smile.

Above the smile, Bucky’s eyes were utterly lifeless.

Of course they were. The guy in that video’s got nothing to smile about.

“Didn’t used to be so good at actin’ the part,” said Rumlow.

The asset is, was, Bucky. Must be. This proves nothing. None of the so-called evidence proves anything.

The scene changed. Bucky, or the asset, was sitting on a cot in a plain concrete cell, scribbling furiously in a notebook. A woman with wavy dark hair came to the bars. Bucky looked up, a heartbreaking expression of guarded hope flashing across his face before morphing into sullen defiance. The angle was wrong for to try to lip read. She seemed to be asking for the notebook because Bucky clutched it tighter and glared, withdrawing into the corner as much as he could.

“It got better at it. HYDRA would set up these little roleplays for it to act out. This one is pretending to be Barnes in SHIELD custody.”

That’s supposed to be Peggy? Now that he had the idea, it was obvious. Oh, Bucky. It was so cruel.

Another uniformed man walked up next to the fake Peggy. At a single barked command, Bucky relaxed, set the notebook down, and stood, blank-faced. The asset.

Steve startled from a light touch to his jaw. He’d been clenching it so hard it ached. The asset leaned toward him and offered another piece of meal bar which he accepted. The prospect of nutrition meant his stomach was waking up.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

The asset blinked rapidly and lowered its gaze. Rumlow was rubbing its neck again.

“The asset likes being touched, Rogers,” Rumlow prompted softly. “You gonna go anywhere if I get up?”

Grudgingly, Steve shook his head. What would be the point?

“Good. Watch the video and be nice to our Winter Soldier. Gonna make some real food.”

!!!!
OMG what have they done to make the Asset the way it is? I love your brain, aa.

I love your performative!Bucky -- the way that he feels like he doesn't deserve to enjoy anything, and the way that he performs for Steve and Sam, and for the therapist. Does he interact with Nat at all? Does she suspect anything?

Just read all of this magnificent fill...wow, just wow, I'm in awe. And I just realized, the Asset keeps slipping into subspace, isn't that what the warm and fuzzy feeling is?

Dearest OP -- if Bucky actually needs anal to cum -- is that just prostate stimulation? As in ... can he, say, use a very thin rod angled the correct way in order to achieve orgasm without pain? Or is painless orgasm an impossibility?

(A!A) Thanks, anon!

I guess there could be weird work arounds, but the point would be there's no magic fix, I guess. In any case, that exploring them would be unpleasant, or him having mental block from previous experience.

So my reply to that...yes, it could be done, but it's not a end-all-be-all solution to his issues. Maybe it even frustrates him more.

AA here,

Thank you all for commenting and wishing me well. It's just normal extra stressful time just now. Nothing of note. Reading your thoughts help bring more colour to my days, so thank you.

AA here,

Yes! That's just what it is. Poor Asset has no idea, but it's still happy.

Thank you for commenting!

Based on an idea I saw someone have a looong time ago. Hydra has Steve and he isn't breaking. So they/Rumlow hose him down with freezing water and put him outside into the freezing cold (he can't get away bc reasons I guess). The punchline is, he can come in as long as he'll allow himself be fondled by Rumlow. Obviously, the fondling can go further if you want to. ahhh im explaining this wierd but just take this prompt in anyway you want I guess?

So it’s submit-to-trash-or-freeze instead of straight fuck-or-die?

For added unpleasantness, maybe he can’t get away because he’s in some sort of cage? Maybe metal for him to freeze to unless he begs the HYDRA agent or agents to help him raise his body temp?

I'm embarrassed by how often I check to see if this fic has updated.
(But, in no way let that pressure you, whatever stressors you have in your life come first, I just wanted to tell you how much I love your fic. I'm excited for every update. Take care of yourself.)

AA here,

No worries. I know just what you are talking about, I do the same except I check for comments. I am an absolute whore for comments, completely addicted and off the deep end. At least there are more of you to fill my fix so I'm the lucky one in this exchange.

Thank you for letting me know. It really helps me chug along.

HYDRA thinks it's quite adorable that the twins are so overprotective of one another, even to the point of putting themselves at risk for the sake of the other sibling.

They also think it's rather handy.

Especially when you can lock the two of them up in separate, sound-proof cells away from one another, and offer to leave the other twin alone so long as the one in front of you gets on their knees like a good little girl/boy and does whatever sick thing you tell them to.

After all...they're never going to find out that you didn't keep your promise. They're just going to keep telling each other that they're okay because they don't want to admit what they did to ensure the other's "safety."

damn! seconded

Rumlow made spaghetti from a box and added a can of meat sauce from the cupboard.

Steve was aware of his movements but he kept his attention on the TV and the asset. The clips switched between study and practice scenarios. The asset had rearranged itself to put its face in his stomach and its arms around his chest.

Almost of it’s own accord, his hand went to its hair. Bucky had been a tactile guy. Petting was safer than nearly anything else he could do right now. He tentatively ran his fingers through dark hair. The asset did seem to like it.

High-pitched whistling caught his attention and he jerked his head around to find the source.

A bag of something from the freezer that smelled of cheese and vegetables was steaming in the microwave. Rumlow swore quietly and opened the microwave door to shut it off.

Steve resumed stroking the head in his lap.

The Winter Soldier sighed and tension leaked out of neck and shoulders.

Then there was a burst of unexpected white noise and a muffled cry and it took Steve half a second to realize the next clip had sound to accompany a glimpse of a man chained to a bed.

The asset pressed its face into his gut.

The screen went dark. “That’s enough for now,” said Rumlow. He set the remote on the kitchen counter. “Come eat. Both of you.”

The interruption was both a welcome relief and highly frustrating. Steve didn’t want to know the content of that next clip, but he needed all the information he could glean. However long he was trapped here, this was his last chance.

“Here’s the deal, Rogers,“ Rumlow told him, “if you eat, we don’t have to talk tonight.”

“Fine by me,” he muttered. The asset’s arms tightened around him for an instant before it pulled away and they both stood.

Steve ate for fuel, barely tasting the food he chewed and swallowed. Across the table, the asset did the same, but Steve kept his attention on Rumlow.

Could he take ten more days of this? Ten days and nights while Rumlow decided if he’d earned whatever breadcrumbs Pierce or his other HYDRA superiors had chosen to offer as a reward for compliance? Then there was also the threat of whatever had been meant by psychological evaluation. Anyone who called themselves doctor and worked for HYDRA could be trusted about as far as Steve could have thrown them before the serum. Rumlow had been pushing for Steve to see one and he didn’t want to find out why without reliable backup.

No, Steve had to get out before they cut their losses and did to him what he knew they’d done to Bucky. He couldn’t blame Bucky for being made into the asset and he couldn’t fool himself that he was any more stubborn and resilient than Bucky had been.

Eating did make him feel better. He hated the part of him that was grateful to Rumlow for making sure he ate. That line of thought would make it easier for HYDRA to brainwash him.

You’re not my fucking handler, Brock, and I won’t let you win.

Wait, he’d had this conversation with Romanoff. Was this the point he needed to pretend to lose so they would share information?

No. This situation was too dangerous now and he’d promised Natasha he wouldn’t let himself be brainwashed. It was time to stop trying to salvage his infiltration mission and extract himself.

And rescue Bucky. Even if he had to go AWOL and burn down HYDRA to do it. It wouldn’t be the first time. As long as no one knew he’d been trying to infiltrate for SHIELD, his mission wasn’t a complete failure.

Shield or no shield, it felt good to be a man with a plan again.

Inspired by the blowjobs as distraction prompt from the second dumpster: [i]When they're training members of STRIKE, they have the Asset try to distract them with blowjobs to help them with "focus" in the field. (...)[/i]

So this training has an unordinary effect on Murphy: now he can't focus without a mouth on his dick. Let's say he has to hack into a database during a mission, and he has only two minutes to do that before the whole mission fails spectacularly. The Asset isn't present, so it's either Rumlow or Rollins that is forced to suck Murphy off; otherwise, they fail the mission.

Link to the prompt: https://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/1504.html?thread=2742496#cmt2742496

How about gently stretching him out with tiny but progressively larger toys and plenty of lube to make sure the pain is minimal? So that by the time Steve slides in Bucky is a)stretched far beyond what would be comfortable for him normally b)so aroused that he comes almost immediately despite the pain

The Asset is too important, and too high risk, to be involved in trash parties. STRIKE, on the other hand, are disposable and expendable. It doesn't matter if they die (hey they have dangerous jobs, death is always a possibility) and those that survive get The Chair and falsified medical records.

And who better to brutalise these men and women for the amusement of the higher-ups than the Soldier? He has no choice but to follow the orders given to him, regardless of how extreme they are, and he carries them out perfectly.

Wow, interesting that Steve seems to have resolved his "is the asset Bucky?" conundrum. And yay fighty Steve! And I *love* all the subtle little "Steve is becoming like the Asset" touches.

I just feel compelled to ask if you're asking as a mental exercise or if you're considering writing it? Because if you are, *do*, even if it's not like a 100% what the prompt is about, because I'm sure people would appreciate it and fills are more precious than prompts.

That being said, I do feel like if the entire story would specifically about stretching, it sort of goes against the spirit of the prompt. I mean, if that is the *final* resolution for Steve and Bucky, after lots of trial and error, fair enough. Though to me, the whole it hurts/I'm not telling is sort of the core dynamic I am looking for. If stretching with toys would be one of the ways they try to cope after it comes out and Steve's initial horror, sure, though I'd imagine stretching being even more painful in this setup - might be worth it if he comes instantly, though.

So I'd say really it depends on if you'd like a semi happy ending (which is awesome, and I like) or if you mean more of a fic where stretching is the central theme (which you should write anyway, if you're inclined, but I don't think has much to do with my prompt).

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Page 157 of 205

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

Fill: Penance (4/?)

Re: Fill: Penance (4/?)

Re: Fill: Asset Management 1/?

Fill 73/?: Undeniable Plausibility

Re: Fill 73/?: Undeniable Plausibility

Re: Fill: Penance (4/?)

Re: Fill: Asset Management 9/?

Re: Sex always hurts for Bucky (and he lies about it)

Re: Fill 73/?: Undeniable Plausibility

Re: Sex always hurts for Bucky (and he lies about it)

Re: Fill: Asset Management 9/?

Re: Fill: Asset Management 9/?

Steve + freezing trash

Re: Steve + freezing trash

Re: Steve + freezing trash

Re: Fill: Asset Management 9/?

Re: Fill: Asset Management 9/?

Overprotective Twins Trash

Re: Steve + freezing trash

Fill 74/?: Undeniable Plausibility

BR or JR/Murphy, blowjob out of necessity

Re: Sex always hurts for Bucky (and he lies about it)

The Asset was present for trash parties, but he wasn't the subject of them

Re: Fill 74/?: Undeniable Plausibility

Re: Sex always hurts for Bucky (and he lies about it)