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

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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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"Now you're just being insensitive," Bucky said, when Steve pushed the covers down, letting the glow of the nighttime city through the curtain paint his lean muscled body in shimmer and shadow. "Would you feast in front of a starving man?"

Steve ran an unhurried hand over his chest, teasing a nail lightly across one nipple, and down over his stomach. Bucky's eyes on him made his skin feel electric. "I don't know," he said. "Am I trying to fuck the guy in the analogy?" He'd been half hard all day, it felt like, imagining Bucky riding to work, sitting through meetings with the cage under his jeans, reminded with every shift of his weight that Steve owned him and meant to have him. He hissed at the first touch to the overheated flesh of his cock. "Or do I want him to eat from my hand?"

"You are indecent," Bucky said, and Steve's cock jumped at the naked desire in his voice. "Look at you. Maybe we should try something else."

"Oh yeah?" Steve said. He skated his palm along the shaft, up and slowly down, drawing out the moment before he wrapped his fist around it. "Like what."

"I could bend you in half," Bucky said. "Make you hold yourself open while I plow that pretty cunt. Make you come on my dick like a good girl."

"Guh," Steve said, intelligently. Bucky had always preferred to bottom, which suited Steve just fine. But when they'd mixed it up, it had been memorable. Bucky's gentle hands, his filthy mouth. He wouldn't have to be careful with Steve now.

"If you hadn't wrecked the gunships," Bucky said, "and Captain America was rotting in a Hydra cell, they might have let me break you. There you'd be, chained to the wall, all defiant in the rags of your uniform. Your heart would leap when the door opened and you saw it was me, even though I had the mask on again—"

"Oh god," said Steve, who wasn't going to last.

"—even though I didn't know you. You'd call my name, speak to me like a friend, until you couldn't speak for screaming. Then I'd take you down, let you collapse to the floor, let you try to crawl away from me when you heard the zipper and knew I was getting my dick out. I'd haul you up by the hips and spit on your hole, and you'd whisper, Bucky, you don't have to do this. And you'd be right, though you wouldn't know it. I've satisfied my orders. I'm not fucking you to hurt you, though it will hurt you, it'll make you scream again as I give you every inch of my dick, without stopping: I'm doing it because it's allowed and I want to, because it feels good. You find some fight left in you after all, when I start pounding you ass, and that only makes it better. I fuck you as long and hard as I can, until I pump that nice tight hole full of my spunk. I pet you, after, for pleasing me, and tell you I'll see you tomorrow. And even as you cringe away, you begin to understand. That this is your life now. Every day, my hands, my knives, my dick in your ass, until you forget your own name. Until you're ready to comply."

"Fuck," Steve said, and came all over his belly.

"You," Bucky said smugly, "are so easy. Good night, asshole."

*

"You were smart, really," Bucky said. "To outsource my training." After a week in the cage, a week of Steve jerking off in their bed beside him, he was getting reckless. "You had the right idea, sure, but you could never bring out the best in me. Not like Hydra."

It was a Friday evening; neither of them had anywhere to be the next day. "I know," Steve said. "It's why I let them keep you."

"So why," Bucky said, "don't you enjoy the results?"

The back of Steve's neck prickled. He sat up straighter on the couch. "How do you mean?"

"You told me to suck your dick," Bucky said. He'd headed straight for the shower after work, and stood now leaning shirtless against the bedroom door in a pair of soft and, Steve thought, very low-slung jeans. "But you didn't mean it. Why not."

Steve said, "You don't like it."

"No-o," Bucky said, drawing out the word in a mockery of patience. "But I know someone who does."

"And who would that be?" Steve said obediently, though he was afraid he knew.

"The same person," Bucky said, "you whipped black and blue for backtalk. Who thanked you so nicely afterward."

Steve said, "Buck…"

"Come on," Bucky said. "Please. If you won't take the cage off, then help me. I feel like I'm going to shake out of my skin."

"I've already told you," Steve said, "when I'll take it off."

"Right," Bucky said. "I know. And I'm not ready. So."

"So," Steve echoed, pretending to think about it. As if he'd deny Bucky anything. "So, go stand against the wall."

Bucky gave him a thankful smile, pure and sweet, before turning to obey. Steve got up, and walked to his desk to unplug the extension cord from the lamp. He doubled it, holding both ends in his fist, and swished it experimentally. It hummed through the air.

"What's that?" Bucky said. "Steve?"

"Be quiet," Steve said. "Asset."

Bucky squared his stance, bracing himself, as Steve came up behind him. Steve dropped the cord and ran his hands over Bucky's naked back, touching the scarred skin everywhere he meant to hurt. After a few minutes, Steve felt the tension in his muscles ease. He used his nails then, lightly, and Bucky shivered with pleasure. "Oh," he said.

"Quiet," Steve said again, and dropped a little kiss between his shoulder blades. He pressed harder, scratching the skin, warming it. "Easy." Then he stepped back, and picked up the makeshift whip.

The first blows were light, and Bucky took them well. He gasped at a harder swing, and Steve watched the red weal bloom before hitting him again.

When a few of the cuts were seeping blood, Steve said, "Tell me why you're being punished."

"I don't know," the Asset said sadly, in the tone of one who rarely did. "I'm sorry, sir."

Steve swung the whip again, and this time the Asset flinched. "You're being punished," Steve said, "for not sucking my cock like a good slut when I told you to."

"I'll do better," the Asset said, immediately. "I'll be good."

Steve gave him five more stripes with the vicious thing, and the Asset trembled under them. Then he let it fall, and stepped back. "Come here," he said. "On your knees."

"Thank you," the Asset said, as he crawled to Steve's feet. "Thank you, sir." He looked up expectantly, his tear-streaked face adoring.

Steve said, "You know what to do."

Tenderly, the Asset unfastened his jeans. He kissed Steve's soft cock through the fabric of his boxers, in greeting, before easing him free. The first slow, wet suck sent sparks up his spine.

It wasn't long before Steve felt himself begin to respond. The Asset took him deeper with a pleased hum, relieved, Steve thought, to be doing well. He choked a little when Steve hit the back of his throat, and suppressed it quickly, the corners of his eyes leaking new tears. Steve put a hand on his head, and felt the tiny flinch. When he didn't take control, only carding his fingers lightly through the dark hair, the Asset redoubled his efforts in gratitude.

If he wanted to, he could put the Asset back against the wall when he was done. He could do anything he liked. No wonder the Asset was glad of the chance to please him, to reduce the potential for violence, to dissipate cruelty into something that disgusted and humiliated but didn't impair function, didn't leave him more vulnerable. The Asset had no recourse from his whims. Steve wanted to reassure him, but that wasn't the game, and he didn't trust himself to speak. He told himself instead: You won't.

He took his hand off the Asset's head before he came, but the Asset swallowed without fuss. Steve tucked himself back into his pants, and bent down to wipe the Asset's face with his sleeve. "That was—very good," he said, and the Asset smiled up at him, basking in the praise. Last time, it had taken no more than half an hour for Bucky to come back to himself. Last time, of course, Steve hadn't raped him. "Come on, up you get." With a hand under his elbow, Steve helped him to his feet. "Go lie down on the bed, all right? Let's take care of your back."

Steve put the kettle on, and fetched disinfectant and soothing lotion from the bathroom cabinet. He put some cookies on a plate and squeezed lemon into a cup of hot water, feeling a strange calm settle over him. The Asset, sprawled on top of the covers, propped himself on his elbows at Steve's urging to eat a cookie and sip from the steaming mug. "Okay," Steve said. "That's good. You can rest now." With a sigh of contentment, the Asset closed his eyes. Gently, Steve cleaned the little cuts. When that was done, he worked cool cream into the welted but unbroken skin.

After a while, Bucky said, "Steve?"

"Yeah, Buck," Steve said. "I'm here."

"Are you okay?"

Steve said, "I'm fine."

"Okay," Bucky said. "Might sleep a bit."

Steve folded his hands in his lap. "Want me to stay?"

"No," Bucky said. "Sorry. Just—need to know it's over. Couldn't know for sure until they put me back in my cell."

Steve wanted to kiss him. He wouldn't make him bear another touch. He said, "Don't worry about it. Sleep well. Let me know if you need anything."

He retreated to the couch, and wrapped a blanket around himself. It was a long time before he fell asleep.

*

Steve woke up groggy, blinking at the bright sun through the window. He smelled toast, and coffee, and bacon, and heard Bucky humming in the kitchen. He'd overslept. He sat up slowly, and winced as his body registered its complaints. It felt like he was coming down with a cold.

They spent the sunny morning after breakfast walking in the park, and the afternoon relaxing at home in front of one movie and then another. Bucky was quietly cheerful, his smiles open and sincere, the restless energy of the last week gone like grounded lightning. Steve's thoughts felt slow, disjointed. By early evening, he had a headache. It worsened through dinner, as he tried to hold up his end of the conversation, tried to keep the right expressions on his face.

When they were getting ready for bed, Bucky pulled on his old sleepwear. Steve frowned at him in confusion. He'd made it a rule, hadn't he? They slept naked now. They slept naked, and Steve jerked off, and Bucky's frustration mounted. He didn't feel like it tonight, granted, but he'd manage; he wouldn't let Bucky down. "Come on," Steve said. "You know better. Strip."

"Nope," Bucky said. He tossed Steve a balled-up pair of sweatpants, a long-sleeved cotton t-shirt. "Put those on and get under the covers."

Steve, who knew an order when he heard one, did as he was told. Bucky flicked off the light and climbed in beside him. He reached across Steve's body to grasp his wrist, then rolled away, dragging Steve over with him until Steve's front was pressed to his back, Steve's arm tucked around his side.

"I'm traumatized," Bucky said. He squirmed comfortably, pushing into the curve of Steve's body. "From yesterday."

Steve snorted softly. "I can tell."

"I am," Bucky insisted. "I need you to hold me, just like this. Oh, and rub my head, too. That will definitely help. With the trauma."

"You're ridiculous," Steve said. "You know that?" But he did it anyway, prying his bottom arm free to mess with Bucky's soft hair, tracing gentle circles against his scalp. Oddly, it seemed to ease the soreness in his own temples.

"Mm," Bucky said, burying his face in the pillow to give Steve better access. "That's perfect."

Holding him close, soothing him, Steve breathed deep as the cold, stunned feeling of the day began to release its grip.

"I'm not an idiot," Bucky said, some time later. "I know it's hard for you. The way I need space, after. It's different from—how we were."

Oh, no. That was wrong: the last thing Steve wanted from Bucky was an apology for what he had suffered, or how it had changed him.

"It's okay," Steve said. "It's really okay."

"Of course it's okay," Bucky said, with affectionate exasperation. "That doesn't mean it isn't hard."

Steve hugged him tighter. He felt the relief of realignment between them, and in its wake, a sleepy sort of peace.

"Anyway," Bucky said. "As I mentioned, I'm terribly distressed. I hope you're comfortable, because it'll be at least another hour before I even think of starting to get over it."

Steve smiled against the nape of his neck, and let his eyes drift shut. Thank you, he thought, but it was a daily, domestic thing, that gratitude, and went without saying.

Okay I love this. As many fics there are that have Bucky and the Asset being different personalities (and I love them all) I've never seen one that deals with it like this, and it's really cool!

hnnng, I love how easy their relationship is, how good they are at reading each other and communicating about each others' needs. The Winter Soldier jerk-off fantasy is so great, as is invoking the Asset -- shows how comfortable they are in incorporating a very important aspect of Bucky.

And everything is so understated! It reminds me a lot of Propellers. Especially this line: "Thank you, he thought, but it was a daily, domestic thing, that gratitude, and went without saying." SO GOOD.

Ok, so I'm not great at commenting, but I wanted to express how much I loved this.

First, the dirty talk is GREAT and I do love Steve was actually really into it even though it's role reversal, and how Bucky just KNOWS how to push his buttons.

I love that you did show that Steve struggles with his role but can contain it. I love how their day in the park, they basically did a switcheroo, where Bucky was all light and bubbly, but it was hard for Steve.

But, most of all, I love how Bucky can read Steve and how - without even needing to go into safewords - Bucky cut that of, because they both knew it was not good timing for that dynamic.

So yes, this was well worth the wait.

Every part of this is such a treat and I want to just like, read it forever. I especially liked the way you handled the Asset/Bucky interplay and Steve's top drop. Love your writing.

Such a great dynamic! I love the way you include trauma and fear of both of them into their play. The negotiation and reassurance are so essential. I also love Bucky‘s “for the trauma” sass.

This is an amazing story!

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

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