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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“Man, strike team really doesn't fuckin’ clean up after themselves.”

It doesn’t respond. The comment wasn’t directed at it, and honestly, it’s not sure if it even could with the metal ring still lodged uncomfortably in its mouth, propping its jaw open. The guy prods at him with the toe of a boot, and he squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for another round of pain. Fuck, it--, he, he thought it was gonna be over. Frozen back into numbness for another long while, before another mission starts and concludes, and the team decides they want to celebrate again.

A second set of footsteps follow. Shit. He doesn’t know why he even knows how to panic, he’s been out of cryo for too long, he shouldn’t feel fear, he’s--

“Holy shit. Is that the Winter Soldier?“

No. No, he thinks hysterically. It’s not the Winter fucking Soldier. If it-- if he was, is, his heart rate wouldn’t be climbing like this. The Winter Soldier wouldn’t be this weak, held in place by metal contraptions and passed around like a fucking sex doll. He feels raw all over, oversensitive and numb at the same time.

“Yeah, after a good mission they like to have some fun. Recreational activity, gotta blow off some steam, ya know?”

“What about bad missions?”

“They have even more fun. Don’t ask stupid questions.” The voice didn’t sound disgusted, just bland and disinterested. But that didn’t mean anything. He could still... if he wanted to. Grab his hips and drag him back upright, and it was just the three of them in the room and he was clearly the highest ranking here. If he wanted use the Asset’s secondary function, there was nobody here to stop him. Why would anybody stop him.

He can hear the footsteps draw closer. The crinkle of fabric, and fingers sweeps strands of hair out of his eyes. He’s checking for lucidity, Bucky knows, but he couldn’t help but shiver at the touch. It wasn’t soft, nothing like that, but it wasn’t cruel, and the perfunctory handling made some animal part of him sing for more.

“C’mon. Up, soldier. Let’s get you cleaned up.” The first man again. The other one had gotten rid of the metal bar propping his legs open, and was undoing the strap behind his head that held the gag in.

He rises to his feet fluidly, and feels a strange, detached sense of embarrassment at the low twinge in his gut and the ache in his ass. They’d also carved tally marks, he was pretty sure, on the inner thigh and lower back. Every step forward sends little sparks of pain shooting up his legs.

He follows the first man out of the room while the second one places the tools back into a closet. They clink together and it sounded familiar, and he has enough consciousness to wonder how many times this has happened before. The body had remembered, he knew. The faces were hazy and amorphous, but it didn’t matter who. Eventually they all wanted the same thing. Eventually they would all be replaced. Eventually they would all want to hurt the Asset, because he’s just so pretty when he’s suffering, aren’t you, doll?

One walks in front, and the other behind as they make their way out of the room into the open hallway. Bucky’s eyes landed on the hair of the man walking in front of him, the long strands of gold that looked almost brown in the cold light of the halls. It struck some chord of familiarity in him, and as they passed a particularly bright hallway light, individual strands of backlit hair practically glowed. Bucky missed him more than ever now, but couldn’t quite place a metal finger on who.

He’s dragged out of his spiraling thoughts with the dual tap of heels and combat boots. A high ranking officer, by the way she held herself and the air of indifference. He ducks his head, flushing with embarrassment. But he wasn’t sure what for, he did his job as an asset, as a weapon, and as a reward for the team. He followed orders. As he walks behind the guard, he felt a drop of something, spit or blood or come or some combination of all three slide down his thigh. He feels another hot flash of shame, but he’s not sure why. The man’s gaze was simply disgusted, but the woman’s eyes held something almost predatory in them that reminded him of Rumlow.

OP

Oooh anon author, this is such a wonderful built-up, I'm so excited!
Loving the semi self awareness of the soldier, and the switch from it to he, mmh.

It wasn’t soft, nothing like that, but it wasn’t cruel, and the perfunctory handling made some animal part of him sing for more.

This is my trash tune, author anon, and I'm humming along.

Author Anon

Ahh thank you!! I saw this post and was like, okay, I don’t have time to write but I want to. And then I failed spectacularly at not-writing. Oops. Anyways I have most of what I’m gonna do planned out! \o/

\o/ indeed! Looking forward to it! A lot, ha.

They continued walking. He tried to clench up because he wasn’t sure if these were the types of guards who would make him clean it off the floor with his tongue. You never know.

“Fuck, really?” The one behind him muttered, and tapped at his phone.

“What.”

“The room where we’re supposed to clean it? Yeah. That hallway got smashed like, two days ago. Something from the nanotech division got out of hand.”

The guard in front abruptly stopped, turning to pin the other with a flat stare. Bucky doesn’t know why he’s disappointed to see brown eyes.

“Hm.”

“We could try the team lockers. I think they’d be out by now, or at least too tired to have another go at him.” At that, his eyes trailed down, and Bucky’s skin prickled with tension. He knew better than to try and anticipate pain, to flinch.

“Yeah, sounds good.” He said after a long minute, before turning back around.

They took a few wrong turns, and it’s another moment of slow-growing horror in Bucky’s mind that he even knew the way clean up was supposed to go. The chair was meant to wipe the unimportant bits, the mission-specific details, but how many times has this happened before for the path to be ingrained in his mind?

The man in front stopped abruptly at a beige door, pushing it open with a metallic clatter. The interior was another short twist of hallway, followed by lockers. They led him to the showers in the back, normal ones. Faint blue tile instead of brushed steel. Bucky faintly remembered that there’s supposed to be a chunk of metal looped around his neck to hold him in place, sturdily welded to the wall.

“Hose him down, Stevens.” The man who walked behind him, Stevens, turned a knob and sends freezing water spray down his back. The Asset does not flinch, Stevens, Steve? does. Jumpy. Most likely won’t make a good agent. Destined to spend the rest of his (likely short) time at Hydra doing menial work like this.

The water gradually shifted warmer, which was a surprise. It loosened up his muscles and warmed up the side of him that had been lying on the cold concrete for the better part of two hours. They maneuver him around to wash the blood off his back, and despite the sting, it felt good to be clean. He imagined the tally marks and bruises the team left melting away as well, swirling down the drain.

“It’s got jizz in his hair. They can’t freeze him like that.” Stevens twisted a curl between his fingers.

“No shit. It’s our job to do all the dirty clean-up work, kid. Asset, come here.”

He fisted a hand in his hair, and firmly guided him to where he wanted him under the spray. The other hand cupped something like lube, clear and viscous, and rubbed it into his scalp. Bucky tried not to visibly relax, but it felt so good, satisfying and steady. The pressure on his scalp should’ve been painful, but there was something strangely good about the pull. His skin was tingling and he realizes with a start that he was half hard.

There was something wrong about this. Something more insidious twisting at his gut, something saying that this was even worse than what the team had done. But he pushed that aside. It was overwhelming to be touched in a way unintended to hurt, and it’s been so long, fuck, and the strange sense of shame somehow makes it even harder to ignore his dick. It just felt so good to be held, cleaned like this.

Stevens looks downwards and whistles.

“Look at that, maybe he liked it after all.”

Not-Stevens paused, and shifted to look. Bucky fixed his eyes resolutely at a faintly bloody tile, ignoring the creeping sense of being examined.

“He’s still leaking everywhere.” Bucky doesn’t know if he’s referring to his dick or his ass, but tried to clench up again anyways.

A hand slipped down from scrubbing at his hair down to the broad plane of his back, and pushed forwards. Bucky didn’t resist. His hands caught the handrail, and his head pressed against the slick tile.

The water was still running, but Stevens had turned down the temperature and detached the nozzle, aiming it at his lower back so it flows down his ass. Considerate. Anything more direct right now would hurt. Stevens worries a finger against a dried spot of come, and hovers for a second before slipping a finger past his rim.

Bucky let out an involuntary gasp. The finger in him was gentle, hesitant. Nothing like the blunt two fingers that had opened him up before, fast and only minimally preparing him. He thanked the heavens that the first few had hurt too much to be pleasurable, for him to respond like he did now. The hand in him is genuinely trying to get the mess out, and the curl of a fingertip slides against something, something good. He felt his dick twitch, and hoped desperately that they didn’t notice.

The other guard was still holding the nozzle and scrubbing at his hair with the other hand, and Bucky remembered something about cold showers, but it didn’t damn help when there were gently inquisitive fingers in him, not intending to hurt but not to pleasure either.

They shut the water off. The residual water slides down his skin, and a gun-calloused hand reached down to wrap around his dick. It felt good, still too much, but still good in a way that sent a new, sharper sense of guilt down his spine. He can feel his skin heating up again, and a particularly lucky twist of fingers made him bite back a moan.

a/n: sorry it took so long!! life really doesn't like me. I hope you enjoy it :,D

OP

Omg sorry, I almost missed this! Ajaskf, this is so horribly wonderful! Also HELLO THERE delicious, delicious shameboners. <3

He tried to clench up because he wasn’t sure if these were the types of guards who would make him clean it off the floor with his tongue. You never know.

WELL.

They took a few wrong turns, and it’s another moment of slow-growing horror in Bucky’s mind that he even knew the way clean up was supposed to go. The chair was meant to wipe the unimportant bits, the mission-specific details, but how many times has this happened before for the path to be ingrained in his mind?

I love this. Ouch.

There was something wrong about this. Something more insidious twisting at his gut, something saying that this was even worse than what the team had done. But he pushed that aside. It was overwhelming to be touched in a way unintended to hurt, and it’s been so long, fuck, and the strange sense of shame somehow makes it even harder to ignore his dick.

Anon, you're a gift. Please continue!

anon!author

aww OP i live to serve <33
im really glad you like it and i hope you like what I have planned next too!

Oh, wow, this is so good, nonnie! I love the horror and the shame and the dehumanization of it all, contrasted against the fact that he has enough awareness to be Bucky, here, not the Asset. Can't wait to read more! <3

anon!author

oh my gosh anon not gonna lie i was having such a shitty day, and then I saw this comment and it made me crack a smile. Thank you so much, my dude! I'm glad you like my writing <3

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

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