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

[trashmod]

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.

Comments

Re: Any trash drabble

[(Anonymous)]

For the prompt, "The Winter Soldier's conditioning makes him experience pleasure as pain."
http://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/1634.html?thread=4430690#cmt4430690

"Can I—?" Shy. The Soldier nods. And it's nice, actually. Pressure, warmth: neutral sensation. Then the Captain's hand describes a soft circle against his back, hurting him, and the Soldier tears himself away.

"Not safe." Stupid, to be surprised. The Soldier nearly killed this man, and now the Captain has run him to ground. He'll want revenge. And the Soldier won't fight, the Soldier's done fighting, he's tired, but he can't—the Captain can't ask him to keep still, unaided, for this sort of touch. His stomach twists at the memory of a handler's gentle fingers carding through his hair. Agony larger, hotter than his body could contain. She'd been a tiny thing; his fist had shattered her jaw. The terror of remorse, even as they'd strapped him down and smoothed soft things across his skin, felt and fur and their own kind hands, until he screamed himself hoarse. They pet slick fingers over his hole until his body yielded, effortless, excruciating, and worked a heavy ridged toy against his prostate until he passed out. Months later, when her injury healed, his handler tied him again and punished him herself. He begged for her forgiveness as her small pink mouth closed delicately around his cock, coaxing him to hardness. He begged for mercy, and finally, uselessly, for help.

"Bucky," the Captain says. Who? "You know me. You're not going to hurt me." He reaches out again, one large warm hand settling lightly on the Soldier's arm. Not hurting, not yet, but the Soldier feels the promise of pain in that careful touch. "Come home with me, Buck. Please. Come home."

Re: Any trash drabble

[(Anonymous)]

OP:

Wow. That was fast. I love it. Steve's misunderstanding, the Soldier's assumptions. Tells a whole story. Thank you!

Re: Any trash drabble

[(Anonymous)]

I love this btw.