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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What it says on the tin: in the backalleys of Brooklyn, Bucky catches wind of a plan by one of the gangs to get a hold of Steve and subject him to a brutal gangbang (maybe with the intention of coercing him into being their own pet prostitute afterwards). Instead, Bucky offers himself up instead - really piling on that charm and swagger - and doing what he has to do to 'convince' them that he's a better choice and has a lot to offer. Cue Bucky mouthing off while they all take turns with him, and limping home with a dozen guys' come dripping out of him and a pocket heavy with a fistful of come-stained money. Maybe it happens again.

Whether and how Steve finds out is up to you.

Have I got a fill for you. http://archiveofourown.org/works/5724430

I have like five dozen rotten eggs and a mouldering pumpkin for anyone who fills this. *__*

I'm not really particular on the how, but Steve is coerced (because reasons) to fuck Bucky (preferably in WS mode) after a bunch of hydra goons have already had their way with him, and he's dripping cum and blood. Bonus points if Bucky is still in the early stages of remembering Steve when he's being fucked.

Inspired by the sloppy seconds prompt above. Steve's on the receiving end of a Hydra gangbang, and after everyone else is done, they fling (post-WS) Bucky to the floor at Steve's feet and order him to fuck Steve as well. If he doesn't cooperate, they'll just use one of the old trigger phrases to make him do it as brutally as possible in Winter Soldier mode.

+ Steve is being stoic... about how much the original gang-rape has already mentally ripped him to shreds. (Extra points if he was a virgin.) He gets that Bucky doesn't have much of a choice, but he's not in a position to offer much reassurance, or hide how much it fucks him up to have Bucky touching him--however gently--where he's just spent hours being horrifically violated. Of course he still tries to offer what little reassurance he can, because it's Steve, but he's barely holding it together.

This definitely sounds like something that's been written before.

NA
Links or it didn't happen. Also, we can never have too much of a good thing.

DA

Links regardless because fuck yes

pre-serum Steve gangbang. Optional: Bucky watching in horror

Jack walks in on Brock being raped by a male character of your choice (although I prefer it if it wasn't Pierce. It can be an original character). Nothing can convince him that the sexual act he just witnessed wasn't 100% consensual on both parts. All hurt, no comfort.

It's not like raping prisoners was Rumlow's idea. He's just following orders.

(Steve reacts with about as much sympathy as you'd expect.)

Anything that's got Steve with his legs held up and his ankles shackled above his head. Such a great, easy-access trash position.

Artist's choice for further kinky embellishments. Blindfolds, gags, cock rings, CBT, whipping/caning marks, ass hooks, nipple clamps, spreader bars, fucking machines, shield harness, ripped-up uniform, magnetic cuffs, Brock Rumlow standing off to the side with a video camera... maybe Steve's already leaking come. Maybe he's still untouched and exposed for whoever's about to have their way with him. Maybe he's got "rape my cunt" scrawled across his ass in sharpie. I really don't care, just take the setup and go wild.

I could write this but it would be disgustingly fluffy

not op, but I'd read it.

For whatever reason, Hydra wants to enhance the Asset's control of the Arm even in stressful situations. Maybe he broke some gear in the field, maybe he fucked up an expensive piece of maintenance equipment by not holding still enough.

The flesh arm is secured, and the Asset is given a handhold for the metal arm as part of a predicament bondage setup - if he breaks the handhold, his weight will be off the arm and he'll be in a lot of pain - CBT, nipples, a stress position, I eat all kinds of trash.

Then Hydra sees what it takes to make the Asset fail.

Bucky is genuinely not that upset about the occasional sexual abuse he dealt with during the Winter Soldier years. A lot of it was dubcon--out on missions in the middle of nowhere, teammates who hadn't been laid for months, blowing-off-steam sex that was just a few shades darker and more coercive than the furtive handjobs he and Steve exchanged in their tent in the 40s. A lot of the other instances, mostly superiors taking advantage of the brainwashing, he barely even remembers. He jokes about it sometimes, and is still good at the "put up and shut up" approach to sex he doesn't enjoy, but he's way more fucked-up about having been forced to kill for Hydra than he ever was about occasional forced blowjobs.

Steve was violently raped by the enemy after being taken prisoner. Just once. He can't bring himself to talk about it. He's fine having sex with Bucky--that's different. But some things--the slightest hint of degradation, biting at a particular spot on his neck, dirty talk while he's getting fucked--make him suddenly tense up and turn to ice. Made worse by embarrassment, for freezing up over a single instance of something Bucky dealt with for years.

Naturally, their sex life is fantastic, if by "fantastic" you mean an unholy mess of issues.

Ugh. Please, dumpster, please. More trash in this direction.

UMG THIS IS AMAZING

Also not the OP but I'd read the hell out of it too.

A trash party gets interrupted by an attack on the base-- the intruders find themselves being ripped through by a Winter Soldier who is completely naked except for a cock ring and still fucked open and dripping come. When the base is secured, of course, his handlers pick right back up where they left off.

YES PLEASE

GOD YES

He’s not awake, not exactly, when he feels it: a warm body pressed up against him, a hand snaking its way down his chest to rub teasingly over the line of his hip, fingertips brushing against the base of his not-quite-soft cock, stirred into hardness by the lingering memories of a few hours ago and the faint, residual ache that still lingers.

Fingers encircle his cock, right below the head. The touch is soft, barely there; the slow stroke from root to tip that follows not nearly enough. He needs more, but asking for more means dragging himself out of this warm, half-waking place.

He doesn't need to ask. There's a faint press of teeth to his neck, and then lips at his ear, biting softly and then mouthing at the shell. He shivers, lets their quiet murmur wash over him.

“Want me to--” do something about that, don't you, asset.

His body is limp, half-frozen, beyond his control, his jaw locked; hands roll him onto his front, easing his hips up until he's on his knees, pliant beneath their hands. He presses his face into the pillow, letting it swallow his ragged breathing. Maybe if he---maybe if he doesn't let them---

Huh, looks like it's really awake this time.

Oh yeah, look at that.

Hands spread him open. The pad of a thumb presses against his hole, teasing, until it twitches beneath their fingertip. It's been long enough since the last time that he’s tightened up, some, enough that it takes a little pressure for their thumb to ease in, sliding in through the mess from earlier that's still dripping out of him. Another hand moves to stroke down lower, cupping his balls, rolling them in their hand and then squeezing at them, firmly enough for his eyes to water. His cock throbs, thickening under the stimulation, under the feel of their gaze on him, splayed open like this.

Looks like it’s ready for round two, huh?

Yeah, look, it likes that, doesn't it.

The thumb eases free, dragging over the mess that's dripping out of him and pressing it back in, before replacing their thumb with fingers that sink in easily past his swollen rim.

For a few minutes the only sounds are the pleased murmurings of the person behind him as his balls begin to swell in their grip, and the wet sound of their fingers working him open again. The stretch burns. His hips twitch anyway, pressing back into the touch against his will.

Told you it's a slut for it. Look at that, spreading its legs for us.

They're up to three fingers now, fucking into him, loosening him up. Getting him ready. His cock is fat against his belly, his balls a heavy, aching weight between his legs as a hand tugs and strokes at them. The edge of pain as a fourth finger sinks into him is distant, familiar; so too are the bright sparks behind his eyes when knuckles drag over that spot inside, dragging a low groan out of him before he can stifle it. The way his body betrays him is most familiar of all: arching back into the touch, seeking more of that good, bright feeling that eclipses the dull horror of everything else, desperate for anything that could ever make this almost bearable.

A touch of unfamiliarity: a warm press of lips to the curve of his thigh; no teeth, no biting, no marking him up for the others to see. Just a soft touch, there and then gone. Their fingers pull free, the hand releasing its grip on his tight sac. He braces himself for whatever comes next.

Think it's ready for the whole thing?

Doesn't really matter, does it?

The fingers are back, slick now as they press into him. They pause, teasing, fucking into him shallowly and then drawing almost all the way out. A few moments of resting there is all it takes for the muscle to flutter around them, clutching at them, trying to suck them in deeper.

Wait. I want to hear it say it.

Go ahead, asset. Beg.

His mouth forms the words he knows to say before he even fully registers what’s been asked of him. Instead what comes out is a ragged “St--” but he can't get the word out. Doesn't even know which one he's trying to say.

And now he’s left them waiting; if he doesn't respond now the pain will only be worse later.

He manages to unclench his jaw enough to gasp out the old, familiar phrases, each syllable like acid on his tongue as he spits it out.

“Give it to me, please, I want it,” and it’s like a dam breaking, the words flowing from him; unceasing, unbidden.

Yeah, that’s right, slut.

Thumb tucks against palm, and they begin to press in. Knuckles stretch him wide, and then wider, the width of their palm opening him up. A hand curls around his hip to hold him in place as they press in deeper, implacable, until he can feel overworked muscles fluttering around the thickness of their wrist, their knuckles bumping right up against that spot inside as their hand curls into a fist and draws back. It’s too much, far too much, only growing worse on the next slow pump of their fist into him.

Yeah, that's right, lie there and take it like a good asset.

By the fifth thrust they've reached a rhythm, working their way into him with steady, twisting motions of their hand, his thighs shaking under the stimulation. By the ninth, the jerk of his hips has become erratic, caught between pressing into their touch or arching away, the next aborted movement forward sending the wet tip of his cock scraping against the sheet below.

His whole body seizes, clenching down hard as his cock jerks, pulsing out thick spurts of come in time with the unrelenting press of their hand into him. They don't ease up, dragging him shuddering and gasping through one long, unbearable moment where all he can do is writhe as the press of their knuckles sets his cock spilling out another stream of come, marking up the bed and his thighs and his own heaving chest.

He doesn't know how long it goes on for, registers only distantly when they give a few more slow pumps and their fist eases free with a wet, obscene noise. His hole twitches at the absence, unable to close, not even when they press in a few testing fingers, spreading him open a little to look at the mess they've made and then pulling back. A few seconds of another wet, sloppy noise and then their nails are digging into his cheek, a long, drawn-out groan all the warning he gets before spurts of heat splash against his thighs, his ass, right over where he’s been fucked open.

Fuck, fuck, yeah, that's right, bitch. Fuck.

After a few moments they slump down against him, blanketing his body with their bulk, their barely-flagging erection nudging between his thighs. They tuck their face into the crook of his neck, humming with satisfaction.

Think it can “--go another round, huh, Buck?”

The ice recedes. There's a patch of wet where his face was pressed into the pillow, more wetness beneath him, painting his chest and ass and thighs. Everything aches.

The nightmare can wait. For now, he forces his mouth into a smile, pressing his legs together until Steve groans, rutting down into the tight, slick space between his thighs, nudging against the underside of his balls.

“Go ahead, champ,” Bucky challenges, punctuating his words with another firm squeeze of his legs.

That's all the permission Steve needs. It doesn't take long for him to lose patience at the angle; within minutes he’s curling an arm around Bucky’s waist and pulling them both onto their sides, fucking hard and fast between Bucky’s thighs, the swollen head of his cock brushing against Bucky’s balls with every thrust. The not-pain of it is practically excruciating, the feeling only intensifying when Steve gets a hand on the muscle of chest and begins to pluck and pinch at his left nipple until Bucky’s chest heaves, his left palm going down to rub over the slick tip of Steve’s cock each time it pushes between his muscled thighs, urging him on.

“God, Buck, Bucky, yeah,” Steve babbles coherently before choking off into silence. The next moment he’s clutching hard at Bucky, his cock spilling in thick, wet pulses, the sound of his thrusts going sloppy as his orgasm ripples through him. The tight pinch as his fingers close around Bucky’s nipple is all it takes to drag him shaking and shuddering along with him, his breath hitching when Steve nudges against his tender sac.

After a few minutes of sated silence, Steve slides free, mouthing a line of wet kisses over the back of Bucky’s neck.

“Morning,” he murmurs, voice still sleep-rough.

“Hell of a way to wake a guy up, Rogers,” Bucky smirks, before the memory of earlier washes over him again. His throat closes up. His stomach churns. He pushes himself upright. “I gotta take a shower,” he manages, voice steady as he waves away Steve’s sleepy protests and gets out of the bed on shaky legs.

The feel of the bathroom’s cool white tile against his bare feet as the door slams shut behind him is the thing that finally cracks him open. His legs buckle; he just barely manages to turn the shower onto full blast before he’s kneeling down in front of the toilet and spitting up bile, and then bloody saliva, and then nothing at all.

I thought about it, and while we've seen a few fic were Bucky is castrated, we haven't seen any(?) where it was Steve.

For extra trash, have Hydra make Bucky (or the Winter Soldier) be the one to perform the operation. Friendly reminder that anesthetics don't really work on Steve.

For super extra trash, Steve is raped before the operation and they imply that because they raped him, he doesn't need his balls anymore

This is so exquisite! I love the process of Bucky slowly waking up, and the sense of wrongness and confusion. And the ending!! Is so good!!!! Hell of a way to wake up, indeed!

(I hope this doesn't encourage Steve to do it more often)

((lol who am I kidding, I hope this encourages Steve to do it more often, until Bucky ends up losing control and reacting in a panic and then has to tell Steve about all the horrible HYDRA rapes))

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Page 78 of 205

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

Prewar gangbang trash, Bucky offering himself up in Steve's place

Re: Art Prompts for Trashbook 2?

Re: The Winter Soldier's body armor doubles as a Thundershirt

Sloppy seconds

"Either you take a turn, Barnes, or the Soldier will"

Re: "Either you take a turn, Barnes, or the Soldier will"

Re: "Either you take a turn, Barnes, or the Soldier will"

Re: "Either you take a turn, Barnes, or the Soldier will"

Re: Art Prompts for Trashbook 2?

Rape mistaken for cheating, Hydra husbands edition

"I just want you to know, Cap, this isn't personal"

Re: Art Prompts for Trashbook 2?

Re: The Winter Soldier's body armor doubles as a Thundershirt

Re: The Winter Soldier's body armor doubles as a Thundershirt

Predicament Bondage with the Arm

Steve/Bucky, very different trash pasts

Re: "You're gonna want something to bite down on"

Re: Steve/Bucky, very different trash pasts

Re: The Winter Soldier's body armor doubles as a Thundershirt

Trash-us Interruptus

Re: Trash-us Interruptus

Re: Trash-us Interruptus

[FILL] Close My Eyes

Steve gets castrated

Re: [FILL] Close My Eyes