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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(I would start by apologizing for the subject line pun, but I'm not sorry, pun fully intended)

Steve gets captured by Hydra at some point during WWII. Hydra goons think, "Hey, a supersoldier! I bet he'd be fun to facefuck." Hydra goons are wrong. Steve used to be a tiny guy with asthma, and having a cock down in his mouth, especially down his throat cutting off his air supply, makes him panic and puke.

Cue the double humiliation of having Hydra goons facefucking him and not even being able to take it without tears and gagging and freaking out. Extra garbage presents if you include the Howlies finding him for a rescue with his mouth held open by a WWII Hydra version of a ring gag, face covered in tears and snot and puke. Also come, from when the Hydra goons gave up fucking his face and just finished themselves all over his face.

Merry Christmas? Oh man this prompt has kind of been following me around for a while and I finally found time to write it. Hope it's what you're after. Will get the rest up soon hopefully.

Italics are German. Was too lazy to attempt to actually translate. Sorry.

And I was inspired to research what they would have actually had along the lines of ring gags in the 1940s and came up with this little sucker, called a whitehead gag: http://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/9IAAAOxyOalTbVUs/s-l300.jpg. It was actually used for dentistry purposes, which is why it's vaguely familiar to Steve. I doubt he would have been able to afford dental work himself, but he might have seen it in use, or at least seen pictures of it.

***

“Send word to Herr Schmidt. Tell him we have Captain America.”

Steve yanked against the chain that kept his arms wrapped around the pole pressing horizontally against the small of his back, but, restrained as he was in an upright kneeling position leaning slightly forward, he didn’t have the leverage to break it. And, he suspected as the Hydra officers passing by paused to look at him with malicious intent in their eyes, he wouldn't be left alone long enough to try to free himself. The men looked like they were going to take full advantage of the opportunity to be alone with Captain America, Hydra’s greatest enemy. He could only hope the Red Skull would forbid them from doing anything until he got there. That would at least buy him time.

No such luck; it seemed the officers were unwilling to wait for instructions from their leader. One of the men left the room. The rest approached him, practically rubbing their hands together in glee. Steve didn't waste any time wishing he had his shield; it was on the other side of the room along with the sidearm he’d been carrying, his helmet, and his radio. Instead he focused on what he had, which was nothing less than an inescapable situation. Whoever had been in charge of restraining him had known what they were doing. He couldn't get his feet under him and most of his weight was hanging from the bar his arms were wrapped around. It struck him as maybe a bit over cautious. At least he could rest easy in the knowledge that Hydra had no idea what he was capable of and was frightened enough of him that they were willing to go to great lengths to make sure he didn't escape. It didn't help him any, but it gave him a sense of resigned satisfaction.

One of the men grabbed his hair. He yanked himself free, ignoring the pain of hair being pulled out, and tried to bite the hand that had grabbed him. The man pulled back and the others laughed. One of them said something in German. Steve had a basic understanding of the language -- enough to carry on a conversation and understand potentially relevant tactical information. “What did you expect?” the man said. “It's Captain America. He is not going to cooperate like some other American --” Steve didn't recognize the last word. He filed it away as something to look up later, pretending he wasn't about to be intimately introduced to the meaning of the word for a few blissful seconds.

“I wanted to see him resist,” the first man replied. The patch on the front of his uniform identified him as a Lieutenant Friedrichs. “It makes him look desperate. It's hot. Give me the --” Another word Steve didn't recognize. His eyes followed Friedrichs’ hand as someone passed him a rather unnerving contraption made of metal with ratchets and leather straps attached. It looked vaguely familiar but Steve couldn’t place it. Friedrichs took advantage of the moment Steve was distracted by the device and punched him in the head suddenly. Steve was still blinking stars out of his vision when someone grabbed his hair and held his head still while someone else grabbed his jaw and forced his mouth open. He felt cold metal between his teeth and pressing against his tongue and then the straps were buckled behind his head. Steve's head was released and he tried to yank it away but someone was holding the gag and he almost felt embarrassed by how easy it was for someone to hold his head in place.

Whoever was holding him wasn't unduly bothered by his attempts to get away, and suddenly there was an ominous clicking noise next to his ears. The gag widened and his mouth was forced open until his jaw ached and he felt sure he couldn't open it any wider. Finally, his head was released and he jerked away from the hand that had been holding him. Another lieutenant; Klein. Steve glared at the men standing over him, trying not to listen to the way his breath came through his open mouth like gasps. Friedrichs unzipped his pants and let them drop to the ground before stepping forward and fisting a hand in Steve's hair, angling his head back and holding him there for a second before his hard length suddenly rammed into Steve's throat, hitting the back of it hard and then pushing further, forcing his tongue down to make room for the intrusion.

Steve couldn’t breathe.

Maybe if it had happened slower or if he was calmer he could have approached the situation more logically; relaxed his throat and breathed through his nose and tried to forget where he was and what was happening. But it had happened very quickly and he was not calm and, just in case any part of his mind or body had missed the memo, he couldn't breathe. His throat was the first part of him to rebel, seizing up and working rapidly trying to reject the foreign object. He was trying to cough but he couldn't get enough air and it came out as a series of hiccupping clicks that jerked his entire body against the bonds that held him in place. He tried to slow down his breathing and focus; he knew his body was acting on its own and he might be able to fix things if he just focused. The dick pulled out a bit and slammed back in too quickly for him to get a breath and any sense of focus he might have had was in a different country by now because he couldn't breathe and it hurt and his entire existence was reduced to an almost forgotten sense of familiar helplessness as he realized he had no control over his body anymore and could only ride along with it and experience as it struggled to free up his throat so he could fucking breathe.

Friedrichs pulled out and thrusted in again and Steve's body stooped to a new level of desperation. He tried to keep his throat closed, but when it was being forcibly opened by someone's cock ramming down it, it was damn near impossible. His stomach won out in the end and he heard himself make a pitiful gagging noise as his body tried to pitch forward. Friedrichs must have realized something was wrong because he pulled out, just barely avoiding the deluge that followed; a half-digested C-ration from that morning, sporting an unpleasant shade of orange that it definitely hadn't been when it went in. Dugan claimed the Brach’s fudge tasted just as good coming back up, but all Steve could taste was acid.

As soon as he was done puking, he took a deep, shaky breath and was almost surprised to find that his throat was no longer blocked. For a few precious seconds he was just kneeling there, paying attention to nothing but the air in his lungs, eyes locked on the greasy trails his vomit left on his uniform. Then his mind finally caught up with him enough to process the fact that he’d just puked in front of five or six Hydra officers who were in the process of raping him. He started to look up, but as he did so he felt wetness on his face too high up to be the remains of his breakfast. Crying was normal during an asthma attack. It wasn’t necessarily because of panic - often it was just his body responding to a lack of air. It was a reaction he’d never been able to train out of himself, no matter how many times his asthma hit him at an inopportune moment and he found himself kneeling on the ground in an alley in front of someone who’d been in the process of beating him up moments before. It always made those moments worse when he couldn’t hold back the tears and gasping sobs and he had to rub his nose with his hand and make quick, abortive snorting noises because it would get so clogged up that even after the asthma attack subsided he still couldn’t breathe.

He didn’t want to admit even to himself that this time it might be because of panic. He lowered his head, clinging to some kind of feeble hope that maybe, just maybe they hadn’t seen the tears running down his face and the snot threatening to drip from his nose. He should have known better. Someone grabbed his hair again and forced his head up and back. Friedrichs again, still hard. “Disgusting,” the Hydra officer said. He evidently expected Steve to be more cowed after the way his body had just reacted to his situation, as Steve easily yanked himself free when he bucked his head forward.

It was a short-term solution. He was still stuck kneeling there, and when Friedrichs grabbed him again and forced his face into position he was being held too securely to pull himself free without being able to move. He could only watch as the dick went for his mouth again, and he suddenly became aware of the fact that he was babbling, or trying to. Through the gag it only came out as a series of breathy grunts and for the first time he was almost glad of it. He wasn’t sure what kind of words he would be saying if he could be understood, but even if every other part of his dignity was crushed at least they wouldn’t have heard him beg. A particular noise was repeated several times, a rounded O sound that he thought might be the tail end of the word “no”. Friedrichs, of course, paid no attention.

Once again, Steve’s mouth was full of cock pushing further and further back and once again he couldn’t breathe and he could feel his body convulsing against the restraints. He was gagging, choking and he couldn’t stop. He could only close his eyes and hope it would be over soon, before he passed out or suffocated or puked again.

Poor Steve! This is great.

(OP)

EEEEEK, this is great! Poor Steve. I like the begging he can't quite articulate because of the gag, and the way his body just freaks out when he can't breathe. Nice work, anon! I'm excited for the rest of this!

Puking during forced face-fucking is like, my favourite filthywrong garbage kink. THANK YOU. <3

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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

WWII Steve/Hydra trash, Steve sucks at blowjobs

Fill: Coming Back Up 1/2

Re: Fill: Coming Back Up 1/2

Re: Fill: Coming Back Up 1/2

Re: Fill: Coming Back Up 1/2