hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #5: We didn't start the trashfire

Dumpster #5: We didn't start the trashfire

Welcome to the latest, greatest, scummiest iteration of

hydratrashmeme. Come on in and please check your sense of shame at the door.

Rules in brief: Don't be a jerk except to fictional characters. Warn if you want, but read at your own risk, because this is emphatically not a safe space. Link your fills on the fill post. Unprompted fills: make a prompt or a header comment and reply to it with the full text. Continuations of fills from earlier rounds: just make sure you link in both places.

What's on-topic: Filthy and perverted twists on all the quality whump served up by Cap: Winter Soldier. Noncon, aftermath, uncomfortably sexualized violence, mind control, inappropriate uses of Bucky Barnes' metal arm, bad guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves.
What's off-topic: a/b/o, D/s-verse, soulbonds, mundane AUs, shippy/romanticized noncon, MCU heroes repurposed into OOC or edgydark delivery vehicles for your fave's suffering. If you've got a prompt for one of those burning a hole in your brain, head on over to

mcu_trash.

[Rules in full] [Round 1] [Round 2] [Round 3] [Round 4] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive] [Round 5 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Ha ha thank you! I was hoping I'm hitting the mark and it looks like it :D

I’m saving this under wholesome, loving trash. ;)

hydra goons giving the asset all kinds of nasty shit to eat (whatever they picked up from a sidewalk/dug out of a garbage bin, spoiled/rotten food, cum covered tissues, tissues used by a goon with a nasty cold, etc.), telling it it's all good and a treat after a successful mission or after the asset has been good during a trash party. maybe some of it makes it sick and they rape it while it's completely out of its mind. of course it doesn't see anything wrong with any of it because it's handler tell it it's all a reward (and the only food it's allowed to eat anyway).
+for aftermath with bucky running around eating disgusting garbage instead of regular meals to the horror of steve and the rest of the avengers

yes please (especially the +)

Hydra pegs Clint as psychologically vulnerable and assigns an operative to seduce him. Due to his circus trash past, he's willing to put up with a lot without realizing that something's wrong... and by the time he realizes the danger he's in, it's too late to fight back/she has hostages.

-victim blaming & gender roles being a horrible combo
-being stoic and acting like everything's fine

i will give you an entire garbage dump if kate bishop is one of the metaphorical guns held to his head

unprompted fill that includes Steve being made into some kind of empty puppet by dubious medical procedure.

SInce there can never be enough trash

The Red prefers Captain Rogers like this: pliant, eager to please. All it took was one small cut below the cheek, who woul have known? The thin metal plate now shining below his eye was easy to ignore in favor of the lack of that fight they had burned out of the national hero's gaze.
Now it was dull, like an animal's and what an animal he had become, the villain mused and tapped his knee.

"Come here, dog.", he ordered. Not a minute later the captain was crawling on all fours, still wobbly but considerably less so than he had been soon after the procedure.
"Do these boots look clean to you?" Of course there was no answer. Emtpy blue stared at him uncomprehendingly. He just hadn't been taught yet.

"Lick them clean.", he said and when no reaction came scoffed. The downside was that they had to teach him everything. Schmidt grabbed a fistful of blond strands eliticing a beautiful, confused whine of pain and shoved the man
s face onto his steel capped leather boots.
"Lick." He rubbed Rogers' face across the cap and repeated "Lick" Finally the soft lapping sound of a tongue could be heard and he released his grip, then patted the head.

"Good boy.", he said and leant back into his his rich armchair. The crackle of the fireplace and the wet sounds from the ground made for a lulling background noise as he returned to the mundane tasks of reviewing reports.
It was just after the fire had but dimmed to a faint glow and required maintenance that inspiration struck. He got up, startling Rogers who made a faint questioning sound. He paid him no mind.

"I think we should prepare you for your visitor, no?", he spoke and threw another log into the fire. Rogers didn't answer, shoulders slumped and heavy such a beautiful look on the once so proud man.

"Lie down here.", he instructed. Once more crawling Rogers gracelessly fell down next to the fire. "On your back", Schmidt specified and kicked the other man's side causing him to yowl in surprise and pain.

"Wait here. I'll be right back."

When he returned he was pleased to find Rogers in the same position he had left him in. Holding up the object he had retrieved, he approached the fire and pressed the iron into the embers.

"Do you know what this is?", he asked, not expecting an answer of any kind. The captain had shown no capability to speak to this day and as the scientiests assured him likely wouldn't.
"This is an iron used to brand cattle.", he explained, keeping his tone gentle. "Are you cattle?", he asked then grinned: "You are, you are Hydra's pet and as such have to be marked, don't you?"

No sign of understanding dawned on Rogers face but it was all the same to Schmidt. He knelt down next to him and grabbed his hand, guided it toward Rogers' own cock, soft between nude legs.

"I want you to jerk yourself of.", he said "And don't you dare stop. that is an order." he let go of the hand which started the motion, tentatively, unsure. Orders had been the first thing Rogers had been taught after. Schmidt grinned and flicked one soft nipple with ihis gloved hand. Rogers whined but didn't stop the jerking motion even when Schmidt continued his onslaught onto the small bud. He was slowly hardening as well, panting, moaning and making confused noises in general since no one had yet taught him restraint.
It would come, Schmidt knew, but Rogers right now was truly debaucherous.

He placed his boot down on Rogers abdomen and pulled out the iron. With a swift motion he pressed the burning hot item down and relished in the yowl it brought from below. He could feel the muscles spasm even through his thick sole, the smell of burnt flesh emanating quickly.
"Order!", he barked when Rogers' hand below moved to grab for the iron, to remove the source of pain and was pleasently surprised when the hand returned to the straining cock, now more squeezing than strocking.

"I am not removing this until you come.", he said, noting the tears that fled freely from reddened eyes, ignoring the sobs and gasps of pain as the iron continued to burn.
"Jerk yourself off.", he repeated and pressed down more.

It took longer than expected, maybe Captain America wasn't as much a masichsit as previously thought, but he came. Thick squirts of come covered the pale stomach and Schmidt's boot.

"I guess you'll have to clean this one again, dog.", he tutted softly on delivered one forceful kick to the unconscious body. Hydra brought order through pain after all.

There were a lot of things Steve had struggled not to fantasize about for a large part of the past century. Post-coital cuddling was doing him nicely at the moment. He didn’t want a new argument. That said, he hadn’t missed Bucky’s struggle with the blowjob. Rushing into things after one success felt like a bad plan.

Slowly, he said, “I’d be happy to be catcher sometime.”

“Sometime,” Bucky repeated, very neutral.

“I mean, not tonight. We can… let things settle a little first, right? We don’t need to jump right into everything.”

“No, Steve,” said Bucky, still very very neutral and even. “Of course we can let things settle. Dunno why I thought you might want to do anything else. We don’t need to jump right into everything, you aggravating punk! And don’t you fucking dare say you’re sorry.”

Closing his mouth, Steve tried not to wince and failed. He could tell Bucky was glowering at him now, even though he couldn’t see his expression.

“Jesus Christ, Steve. I don’t know if I want to admire your newfound restraint or punch you in the face.”

“Can you tell me why you’re angry now?” Therapy was good for learning to continue uncomfortable conversations.

“I just did.”

“Then I didn’t understand.”

With a deep despairing sigh, Bucky at least turned into him to press his face to Steve’s chest. “Why are you so stupid, Rogers.”

Well, that wasn’t so bad. Steve smiled fondly. “Maybe I’m just overwhelmed by the handsome fella in my bed?”

Bucky snorted. “Stupid,” he said again, but the insult was affectionate. “I’m mad because you used to jump into things all the time and now you have chronic cold feet. I mean, you used to have the cold feet before too, but they were a hellavalot more literal back then.”

“Mmm,” said Steve, noncommittal. He kissed Bucky’s right collarbone.

“I…” Bucky’s voice wavered, perilously close to breaking. Steve could feel the warmth of his uneven breaths on his bare skin. “I don’t really want you to make the decisions here. For you to make me do things. Even if it would be easier. It’s. It’s just not fair. Not fair to ask that. Not fair this isn’t easy for us.”

Steve said nothing. We hit puberty in the 1930s. Never was gonna be easy, pal. No, that made him sound like an insensitive asshole. He couldn’t say he was sorry or even that he fully understood Bucky’s feelings. I love you. I’m lucky you can stand the sight of me. He could say that. The first part, at least.

“I love you,” Steve said. “Partner.”

“But you love the Winter Soldier too, right?”

Steve took a deep lungful in through his nose. Even now, notes of leather, sweat, and smoke remained, though they were overpowered by arousal, fear, and fresher, healthier scents. “Yeah. Because I love you,.”

“But you want to keep taking it slow. Make me call the shots.”

Settling his arms around Bucky’s neck, Steve tucked them closer together. “I want to be yours. I want you inside me.”

Obligingly, Bucky threw a leg over Steve’s legs. “Are you sure you want that? You don’t just think you owe it to me or something?”

“I’ve been tryin’ not to fantasize about it since you told me about your first time you hit a homerun with a dame.”

“Shit, Steve. I don’t remember when that was, but we musta been…”

“A hellavalot younger than we are now, yeah.”

“Did I do that a lot?”

He had to think about it. His impression had always been that Bucky mostly saw them home with a kiss. At most, he used his mouth or fingers. How many girls had Bucky actually put his dick in? Two? Three? Three, he decided, and not one of them after he and Steve had starting living together. He might have had sex with them more than once, but there hadn’t been that many times. Bucky had been rightly terrified of getting someone in the family way and they could still have a lot of fun without risking it. If there had been more girls while he was in the army, Bucky had never said.

Bucky cleared his throat awkwardly and Steve blurted out the first response that came to mind. “Bucky, no. You played the dating game like nobody’s business, but you usually gave girls the kind of good time that couldn’t get anyone in trouble.”

“Pregnant, you mean,” Bucky stated plainly. “But that couldn’t happen with men. Did I ever tell you about fucking men? I don’t remember doing it, but…”

But he didn’t remember a lot, when it came right down to it. Still, this was a question Steve felt confident answering.

“As far as I know, you’ve never been the penetrative partner during anal sex with a man or a woman,” he said and shifted uncomfortably. He could feel himself going pink. “You got a finger in me at the Retreat, but I think that was just to prove prostates exist so I’d fuck you. We, ah, we broke a few other rules at the time too.” Personal experience seemed to be confirmed by what he’d seen of the asset’s files. Female agents had ridden it as part of the reward system, but they were still topping.

He felt more than heard Bucky swallow thickly. “I remember the Retreat. I think. Most of it. The whips were somewhere else, though, right?”

His heart clenched, exactly like and nothing like the palpitations he used to suffer. “Th-” -at’s right. No. He wasn’t saying that. “Yeah, Buck. That mighta been the safehouse after the mission before the Retreat. You were wiped twice between, so no wonder if they’re a little mixed up.” They almost never talked specifics like this. What was he doing? And yet, Bucky seemed to be clutching Steve tighter instead of doing the reasonable thing and getting the fuck away from him.

“The part about the... I don’t want that,” Bucky said, almost subaudible. “Sometimes I might want some of what helped me as the asset, but I don’t want that. P-punishments. I didn’t-”

Shocked and sickened, Steve stumbled over his own words of denial. “God, Buck. Me either. Never again. No more-”

Bucky interrupted him. “I don’t want to worry about other people or play power games. I want to make love.”

I love you. I don’t deserve you, but I love you so much.

“Then that’s what we’ll do. When we’re both ready.”

“When we’re both ready,” Bucky agreed.

A few days later, Steve finally got his mouth on Bucky’s beautiful hard cock. They were in the gym, doing their best to pretend like they were comfortable where anyone might walk in. Steve looked over to see how Bucky was doing and was treated to the sight of Bucky stretching his arms over his head before laying a hand towel across the back of his sweaty neck. The heathered dark gray tank top he wore pulled tight over his chest, riding up to expose a strip of glistening skin, and Steve made a desperate percussive noise like he was being choked.

Bucky met his eyes and smiled and it took all Steve’s self-control not to simply turn away from the speed bag and stumble toward him like some sort of lurching lust-zombie.

“Can I…” He realized his wrapped hands were trembling at the same moment Bucky shifted the way he held himself to make the bulge in his sweats obvious. “Oh, God. Bucky. Can I… do something for you?”

Hesitation and something like regret crossed Bucky’s face. “I need to wash the sweat off.”

Swallowing a mouth suddenly full of saliva, Steve nodded. “Okay. Later?”

Bucky bit his lip and looked away for a moment before looking back with nervous determination. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

They had a few false starts due to Steve’s inexperience and Bucky’s initial panic that having someone’s mouth on him felt wrong, not allowed. They’d gotten there, though.

Later had come, and so had Bucky, staring down at Steve with what could only be described as wonder in his wet eyes.

James Barnes was officially reinstated among the living and cleared of responsibility for actions taken between his fall from the train and walking into the tower of his own volition. Neither Bucky nor Steve paid much thought to the media frenzy outside. Steve had pre-recorded and approved statements. Bucky did too, but it was only a single soundbite, filmed by Steve’s phone on the roof of the tower with Bucky turned half away to look out at a New York sunrise and loose hair blowing around his face.

“I’m just grateful to have a chance to be a person again. I didn’t know… I didn’t know a lot. A year ago, being Bucky Barnes and knowing Steve Rogers wasn’t even a possibility. It didn’t seem plausible that I could be anything but what they told me I was. Good thing it’s kinda hard to deny Captain America.”

“Oh my God, Buck,” Steve said, skin radiating more than his usual high-metabolism heat. “You can’t say that on national news. International news. Jesus Christ.”

Bucky stared flatly at him. “You said I could say whatever I wanted.”

That was true.

“Besides, you’ve been denying me a lot more,” Bucky went on. “But no one needs to know that part.”

Damn everything straight to hell, that was also true.

A sudden rush of readiness ran through him. Feeling clear-headed and reckless, Steve blurted, “I’m not denying you anything anymore. Try me.” It wasn’t quite the same as starting a fight but the desperate physicality of the urge was a close thing. He realized he’d set his jaw like he was inviting a punch.

Catching the shift in demeanor, Bucky bit his lower lip and frowned at him while Steve held very still under his scrutiny. Finally, Bucky’s body language softened. He reached out with his right hand and cupped Steve’s jaw. “Steve. Can I take you to bed? I want to do more than try you.”

Steve’s shiver was not because of the chill in the air. “Yes.”

The hand ran from this cheek down his neck, under his arm, and around his back. Bucky pulled him into his side. “Okay.”

Bucky jostled awake. He couldn’t tell what had alerted him this time, only that he couldn’t get his stupid brain to shut up and sleep more than a couple of hours a night.

Maybe it had been another nightmare. Maybe not.

Bucky squinted and tried to make out the familiar shape of their room in the dark. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary but he wasn't fully convinced yet. Twisting his head to the side, he listened carefully, and...

Still nothing. It was all peaceful and quiet inside the hut - apart from the reliable sound of Steve’s deep breathing in the night. In and out. The blanket moved with the even rise and fall of his chest.

Back in the day, when Steve was still little, Bucky used to worry that he might just up and die in his sleep, stop breathing altogether. He used to wake up in the middle of the night like this, listening to every little intake of air, and when Steve didn’t seem to get enough by Bucky’s standards, or the rhythm became too irregular, he shook him awake, uncaring that it made the little guy raging mad.

It was always worth it in the end and frankly, Bucky was too invested to stop. He even got hit for his troubles once or twice - and not just purely out of reflex as Steve later claimed - until the serum finally took away the transience of their life together. Now that Steve’s imminent death no longer hung over their heads like Damocles’s sword, the world was brighter for it.

Bucky listened again. Still quiet except for his partner’s steady breathing. There was no threat. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly. Thank god.

As expected, instead of waking from the noise, Steve turned over on his other side and snored.

“Wouldn’t become you to get up for anything short of a gunfire, would it, pal?” Bucky whispered.

Steve drooled on the blanket in response, entirely unconscious.

Bucky shook his head at him fondly, watching what he could see of his lover’s blissful face in the dark for a while. He was glad that Steve was starting to sleep through the night again - even if Bucky himself couldn’t.

Continuing the search for Ward in a more reasonable manner, and at a more fitting time of the day, was good for both of them but Steve’s improvement was much more apparent. It made him act like less of an angry zombie and more like the person Bucky loved again. Things were finally starting to look up.

Bucky had been terrified of getting too close to his boyfriend at first, of seeing his reaction to the injuries Hydra had inflicted on him but something had changed when Steve had looked at the scars down there. He hadn't left, hadn't been disgusted - at least not with Bucky.

Maybe they were stronger for it now.

Bucky rolled off the mattress in defeat, knowing that he wasn’t going to fall asleep again any time soon. He stood up almost silently, and went over to the stove to make his beloved Marula tea.

The nutrients in the tree’s bark relieved the constant ache in his shoulder where Zola had drilled screws into his spine to support the metal arm. It often helped with that and other pains.

Bucky could push through almost anything when he had to. He could ignore the unpleasantness of pain, especially when he didn’t want his oblivious partner to notice what was going on because things were finally fun again, but in truth, Bucky’s ass still wasn't right. After the brutal treatment Ward and his men had given him, no careful fingering or enthusiastic rimming on Steve’s side could change that. Not for the lack of trying though.

Bucky had even attempted it solo that one time after Steve’s unsuccessful effort to get him off with his fingers but there was nothing to gain, only an unpleasant buzz from the dead nerves (like the sickening tingle of a numb limb that you couldn’t touch directly without it getting weird) and the unusual tightness that made it tricky to reach his goal on the pleasure front.

Lately, Bucky wondered if the serum had stitched him up so badly that it had twisted him on the inside. It did that sometimes with bone fractures and other more grueling injuries, just growing things back the wrong way.

The only practical solution in that case was to break what had healed wrong and reset it. Simple as that. They’d done it for each other countless times, only it wasn’t an option in this case.

Even if Steve could technically help him with the problem (because he had the equipment to do some real damage if he went in dry and he loved Bucky enough to offer his left leg for a normal sex life), Bucky wasn’t gonna ask him, or Hydra, or anyone really, to do that to his poor body. Not this, not even with a certified doctor at hand and enough horse tranquilizer to knock him out cold for it. He couldn’t even stomach the thought.

Careful not to spill anything on the floor, Bucky scooped some water from the cauldron with a trowel, and poured it into a cup on the stove to heat it. When everything was ready, he checked the little wooden box which he stored the sweet-scented bark in.

It was empty. The rest of his stash was outside in a hand-molded clay chest which functioned as a small outside-fridge for all kinds of dried food. Easy to get to, but Bucky hesitated. He didn’t feel like waking Steve in the middle of the night, but he also didn’t feel like going outside without telling him where he was going first...

Buying himself some time to think, Bucky sat down on top of the kitchen cabinet with the empty box in hand, letting his feet dangle, and ignored the way it creaked under his weight.

He looked at Steve’s sleeping form again and decided to do it anyways. What was the big risk? T’challa had sworn the border was well-guarded now and he knew that they were scanning for threats with Shuri’s state of the art technology, all day and night. She wasn’t going to let Hydra break in a second time.

The princess, T’challa had let them know, felt responsible for what had happened. She hadn’t been to see them in person yet but she had sent Bucky a long message, saying how sorry she was for failing him. He’d written back immediately, assuring her that it wasn’t her fault but he knew that guilt wasn’t always rational. It wouldn’t just go away at his say so but at least, Shuri could focus on her work now and do better.

Nothing bad was going to happen here ever again and anyways, Bucky couldn’t treat Steve like a guardian any longer, clinging to him for safety, like a life line. He wasn’t a helpless child after all. He was a fighter. A survivor. He had no need for a body guard.

Bucky jumped to his feet, pulled down the olalem from its place on the wall, and stuffed it into his belt. He got his old backpack from the closet quietly and slipped into his sandals.

Making sure Steve was asleep one last time, he left the hut in a fast stride before he could change his mind.

Nothing bad was going to happen. Nothing.

He didn't look back at the hut and walked straight past the dried-up foutain that held no water in the summer, one hand on his weapon, shaking in fear.

Bucky’s way was illuminated by the silvery light of the full moon, giving the scenery a dreamlike quality that he couldn’t quite enjoy. His heart was beating too fast, his wide eyes darted around, here and there, scanning his environment, like a hunted animal, afraid of its own vulnerability. Bucky knew that he’d be unable to make out any predators in the dark...

Pull yourself together, he told himself, the angry twist of his mouth a thin line. Hydra’s not gonna wait for you behind a fig tree in the dark at ass-o-clock in the morning!

When he had almost passed by the goat fence, not looking at the ground in his paranoia of missing an attack, he stumbled over a root and stubbed his toe. Bucky caught himself but twisted his ankle in the process.

“Fuck!” he cursed loudly, hobbling around on one leg.

He stopped to lean on a wooden post, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart and mind, and ignored the pain. This was nothing. He could still do this. All he had to do was man-up and focus on something else.

Scrambling for some happy memories, Bucky thought of his goats which had pastered in the field in front of him during the colder seasons. For the remaining time of the year, as long as the grass was too dry and often burnt, they remained in a sheltered area further up in the mountains where food was plenty and they were protected from the exhaustion of the heat.

Bucky couldn’t wait to get them back. He’d never delivered any babies himself. He wasn’t even at the hospital when his ma gave birth to Rebecca, and Miss Maisy, the black cat they had rescued and hidden under the stairs in the Barnes home when they were 6 or 7 - more or less successfully - had done all the hard work herself one night. They cried for a week when they learned that weren’t allowed to keep the kiddens but anyways, some of Bucky’s pregnant sheep were due in the winter, so he had a new first to look forward to. The miracle of life.

With a clearer head and the ghost of a smile on his lips, Bucky took another deep breath and let go of his anchor. He felt much safer already. All he had to do was not think of the bad stuff again.

With that intent, he patted the fence post like it was an old friend and limbed over to his little storage bunker, rummaging through the contents. They had enough supplies to last them about 3 weeks on dried food and water alone, but if that failed, they could always count on the Wakandans. They were especially hospitable neighbors. When the harvest was meek and some poor schmock’s luck ran out, they always found a way to make sure that no one went hungry. That was just the kind of people they were.

Even if that wasn’t a matter of course with everyone anymore (Bucky wasn’t entirely sure where he stood with some of his old neighbors after ‘the incident’ and he was too afraid to ask), Steve and him were as rich as God now. Thanks to the army’s generous backpay - which Steve had earned and Bucky absolutely didn’t deserve - they had enough money to buy a small mansion. They’d just decided to stay here instead where they couldn’t get to a store without an hours march.

It wasn’t just an inconvenience though. The bustle of the city was miles away and Bucky preferred it like that. A simple life. Relying on his own hard work and skills, as it always had been.

Packing a load of dried meat, and fruit, and the restocked tea box into his backpack, Bucky stood up to make his retreat with a relaxed feeling, stupidly proud of himself for the little thing he’d achieved on his own, when suddenly, he heard a branch crack.

Edited 2019-02-22 08:27 (UTC)

Bucky’s head whipped around.

“Who’s there?” he wanted to scream as he turned towards the noise, drawing his weapon but there was no sound coming out of his mouth, just like in his nightmares.

Was it Rumlow? Had they come back for him? To finish what they started?

He stood there, he didn’t know how long, frozen in terror, one hand clutching his weapon so tightly that it went white with blood-loss, and a million thoughts raced in his mind.

Every single one of them ended with him down in the dirt, feeling them tear and force their way into his broken body, raping him again...

No, please... Not again... Please, I can't... The children...

“Mr. Barnes?” he heard a man call out and Bucky wanted to sob with relief.

It was definitely a black guy. Not Rumlow. A Wakandan, too, judging by the heavy accent but Bucky couldn’t make himself relax just yet. The man was barely visible despite the bright moon light, crouching behind the bushes. He didn’t make any sudden moves, almost like he was waiting for Bucky to react with violence.

“What— Who’s asking?” Bucky said, voice wavering noticeably. “You’re trespassing.”

“Oh? I guess that I am,” the guy said neutrally but there was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, too. “I am coming out now if that is alright with you?”

Bucky swallowed hard. “Ewe,” he said. Yes. “Please. Show me your hands.”

As the man stood up tall and came out of the dark slowly, Bucky recognized his status at once. He was adjourned in a warriors uniform, red and gold like the king’s guard, carrying a long gilded lance over his head, hands on his weapon, held high over his body, moving proudly.

“I am sorry to frighten you. I take it you were not informed of the king’s security measures for this area?” he asked, words chosen carefully.

Bucky watched the stranger’s face with frayed nerves but he didn't find any obvious signs of a lie, no reason to distrust him still. “I don't need— Shit...” he answered shakily. “Hayi. No. I was not informed.”

The man seemed a little awkward now. “I am very sorry. The king said you would feel better knowing that you do not need to worry about intruders. Perhaps he forgot to mention it. He is a very busy king.”

Bucky nodded helplessly, then he took a deep breath and finally put away his weapon, extending his hand. It was still shaking and cramping a little.

“Sorry about the standoff. I’m Bucky. Barnes. But you knew that already,” he said.

The guy lowered his lance. He looked down at Bucky’s hand, but decidedly didn't take it.

Huh...

“My name is Mandlakhe,” he replied cooly. “I believe you know my brother.”

“Your brother?” Bucky asked with an arising sense of alarm.

“Amwoni, he is called.”

Bucky lowered his hand first, and then his expectations. “Oh... I see.”

Amwoni was the little boy who had been hit and shoved by Bucky’s attackers, a punishment for crying too much. Bucky had learned that from the other kids later. He was the youngest of them all.

“Yes, I know him,” Bucky said with deep regret. “I’m so sorry for what happened.”

“Then you know why I was ordered here.”

Bucky nodded again, feeling dead-tired now that the adrenaline was gone from his body, drained somehow. “Ndiyazi.” I know. “I’ll talk to the King. You should be with your family now. Not standing guard in my front-yard at night so I can feel better.”

Mandlakhe gave him a pointed look. “I agree but as long as the king commands me here that is what I will do.”

“Of course you will. Damn orders, right?”

Mandlakhe raised a judgemental eyebrow at him, and Bucky winched.

“Sorry,” he said again, timidly. “I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just... This is all because of me. You guys were safe before I came here. Happy even...”

The warrior didn't acknowledge his words, just kept looking at Bucky coldly.

“I swear, I never meant to put anyone in danger,” Bucky tried again. “Least of all the kids—”

“We have good men watching your property,” the warrior interrupted and turned away from him. “If you see them it would be best not to give away their position.”

Bucky frowned and tried not to get pissed-off at the insinuation. He didn’t have the right. Mandlakhe didn’t know him that well and even if he did, he clearly didn’t have to give him the time of day. “I won’t. I promise. I used to be a sniper in the army. I know the importance of stealth.”

Mandlakhe was about to put a few more steps between them, when he said it, but then he froze suddenly.

The warrior turned around sharply, his face twisted with something ugly, and began to walk towards Bucky in fast strides.

“Then how did they find you?” he hissed, the accusation strong in his voice. “These men? Who told them how to get inside the country?”

“I— I don’t know,” Bucky answered truthfully and unconsciously retreated a few steps. “What do you—”

“You did not tell them?”

“What? No, I didn’t! Of course not! I didn’t ask for any of this!” Bucky blurted, shocked and hurt at the same hurt.

Mandlakhe took one last step towards him, only stopping when they were almost face to face. Bucky struggled with the sudden impulse to draw his weapon again or run in the opposite direction.

“That is not what I heard,” the warrior sneered.

It was a punch to the gut. A real low blow.

A hot flash of shame creeped up Bucky’s face as he stared at him, open-mouthed.

“Are you kidding me?” he thought. “You think I brought them here? You think I wanted this? That I liked it?”

The worst part of it was that Mandlakhe wasn’t entirely wrong per say. He had asked for it, hadn’t he? Amwoni must have told him. What did Bucky have to say for himself that wasn’t a complete lie?

He was still trying to come up with a decent comeback when the guy turned on his heel and walked away from him in the opposite direction of the hut.

Bucky stayed where he was. Speechless and frozen on the spot.

“Don’t get in the way, Winter Soldier,” the warrior called out maliciously when he was almost out of sight, his silhouette was getting swallowed by the dark around him. “You have done enough.”

Oh no :(

The author is an idiot sandwich and should not write several trash scenes at once.
I can’t believe I wrote “Rumlow” in the 10.2 chapter instead of Ward several times. That’s what I get for not having a beta.
Anyways, please read the rest of this over at AO3 where I fixed the issue:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/17200607/chapters/42130361

I love this! It seems like they are trying so hard for each other! Thank you for writing this amazing thing!

(A!A) Thank you!

So, let's say Hydra has the technology to produce full-grown Bucky clones/duplicates. The serum isn't transferrable because it's not genetic, so they can't make a host of Winter Soldiers. But Hydra instead makes a bunch of "backups" for when Bucky Prime is too damaged and needs transplants. The Soldier's foot gets cut off during a fight? Cut one off one of the replicas and sew it on, problem solved. The Soldier gets shot through the kidney? Take one out of one of the spares. The Soldier loses an eye in combat? There's plenty of eyeballs to go around, just grab one from the duplicates. The Soldier is burned on a mission? Take a skin graft from one of the duplicates.

But when Bucky leaves Hydra after the events of CA:TWS, that means there are a bunch of disabled/horrifically mutilated duplicates in need of rescue. Most of them are missing at least some skin, teeth, limbs, organs, etc that have gone into the Soldier's maintenance.

You decide what happens to them/what happened to them all while they were with Hydra! Did Hydra use the duplicates on each other for trash parties? Did some of them die? Were they ever kept conscious for long enough to develop personality and get to know each other, or were they kept in tanks and only taken out for long enough to harvest parts from them? Was some attempt made in the beginning to program the Soldier's knowledge into them, thus leaving them with vestiges of Bucky's personality and desires and skills?

I'm releasing this idea into the wild, but if you want to write something for ME, here's what I'd enjoy:

+ Steve and a herd of Buckies, all of whom love him to some degree, and all of whom he desperately wants to protect and care for
++ Bucky not having to be alone during recovery because there's a whole group of others with his same brain structure and similar experiences
+++ The replicas being taken care of and given the medical care they need to survive out of stasis, including giving each other spare kidneys and such so they can all survive

Yesss. Any of this, all of this.

Steve loving and supporting all of Bucky and his duplicates gives me feels!

omg what if they all have similar enough memories/personalities that there's no way to label any of them for sure as bucky prime

it has nearly been three whole years since civil war came out, and ive honestly yet to see a filled trash prompt involving the main villain of the film! some ideas:
-he was part of a sokovian kill squad iirc, and probably had encounters with hydra as a result. plus, there was that hydra base in the woods outside the city.
-he had the little red book with all the deets on controlling tws and making him do whatever he wanted (or inadvertently triggering trash party mode by accident)
-post-capture retribution by remains of cia!hydra for ruining their plans for the asset
anything! trash him

Oh my god, yes!

hello friend, there are a number of these in the civil war spoiler dumpster

Simple concept for my trashy prompt: Bucky and the Avengers get captured by Hydra. Bucky gets the trash treatment in front of the others (the good old gang rape and tell) but there’s a twist: They try to make him come as hard as they can, though threatening that if he does get off they will cut off a teammate’s ear or nose or something else sinister. Whatever you decide, the important thing is that there will be consequences. Bucky does his best to resist of course but with Hydra’s unfair methods it’s not very effective.

+ they’re mostly tender, jacking him off or trying to nail his prostate when they fuck or finger him to make him feel enough “pleasure” to come despite the threats
++ when bucky physically can’t come from manual stimulation anymore and thinks they’re finally through with him they shove a stun baton up his ass and switch it on so he’ll ejaculate again and again

Might fill this when I have less on my hands with my other WIPs. ;)

If you want to try again, just ask for what you want and don't want. Without the "concern" about how problematic everyone else's kinks are.

Dear God this is everything I need in life. Please please please with trash can juice on top write more!

By the time they made it back down to their floor, Steve’s confidence was waning, like he was flying down a zip line and not sure how to safely land.

Bucky gently tossed him on the bed, reached for his belt, saw his face, and immediately stopped and sat back instead. “Hey,” he said gently. “I know you’re nervous. We don’t have to do this. No one has a gun to our heads. If you’re not ready, we can-”

Steve fisted a handful of bedclothes. “I want to.” He swallowed, skin alight, and held Bucky’s wary gaze. “I want you to fuck me.” A sudden thought occurred to him. “Unless… Do you not want to? I don’t think you ever explicitly said. I mean, I know, some guys are never comfortable with it and-”

“Steve.” Bucky was shaking his head.

Heart sinking, Steve stopped talking. Maybe Bucky wasn’t interested in that after all. He’d said he wanted to take Steve to bed, but that didn’t mean anything specific.

“Before,” said Bucky. “If we… I would have laid you out with your skinny legs over my shoulders and your bony ankles digging into my back - or maybe my neck. I would have put a hand-”

“-over my mouth so the neighbors didn’t catch on,” Steve finished breathlessly. The shape of the potential new horror had started to coalesce.

This time, Bucky looked away. “You were always so brave, even when you were hurt or sick or all but helpless sometimes. Stupid, but brave.”

Oh, God. Bucky.

“Sometimes, when they rewarded me by fucking me how I liked, I didn’t… It was so wrong. I didn’t imagine I was Bucky. I went away in my head. And I. I imagined I was you. You. Being fucked. By Bucky.” The sound Bucky made was not a laugh. “I imagined I was you being fucked by me.”

So that was it. It didn’t make anything better to understand, but he didn’t think it made it worse either. After everything, not making it worse counted for a lot.

But Bucky was continuing to speak, picking up speed and pitch, and not looking at Steve. His body was otherwise distressingly motionless. “I’m sorry. It was wrong. I don’t know if they ever knew. If they. If they would have punished me for it or found it amusing or conditioned me to think I was Captain America or what and I. It was sick. I shouldn’t have, but-”

“No,” said Steve, scrambling forward to grasp Bucky’s shoulders. He didn’t know how to feel about the revelation, other than not worse, but he knew what he had to say. “No. If it brought you any comfort or made any of it easier for you to bear, it wasn’t wrong. I’d never grudge you any of it. I’m glad you had that.”

To Steve’s clavicle, Bucky explained, “I told you. They never took you out of my head. Not all the way. Even when Steve Rogers was just a concept. I think I remember it from my training. I could control myself in pain. Feeling good was terrifying. I had no control, but I was punished for losing control. That position - too close, too intimate. I didn’t feel brave. I couldn’t imagine-” His voice cracked. “Bucky being brave. But the scrawny Brooklyn kid who never learned to stay down? I could imagine him being brave.” Slowly, his shoulders eased down. “I’m. I’m really fucked up, Steve. I don’t know if I’ll ever have my head on right. I don’t know a lot. Some of what I know is probably just my imagination.” He glanced up just long enough to make momentary eye contact before dropping his whole head to Steve’s shoulder.

Automatically, Steve pulled him into his lap and wrapped his arms around him. After working his jaw silently for maybe half a minute, Steve said, “I think I hear what you’re not saying, and you’re wrong. You’re not a disappointment and I’m not gonna get upset if you don’t think of yourself as Bucky all the time. I told you. I’m with you to the end of the line, Soldier.”

The other supersoldier’s body shuddered slightly.

“We were reunited under the worst of circumstances. I used you. You still tried to protect and warn me. And I don’t fault you for protecting yourself, no matter what. You were protecting someone I love.”

“Stevie.” It was a nearly-inaudible rasp.

Steve’s shirt was growing damp. He smelled salt.

“I’m with you,” Steve repeated softly. “I love you. You’re my partner.”

They sat together quietly until Bucky sniffed and pulled away to scrub at his face with the back of his right hand. “I think I want a shower, but.”

But.

“I can stay here. You can take a bath. Whatever you want,” Steve promised.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Bucky said immediately. “You said no baths together. Naked canoodling.”

“Naked canoodling in the bath is fine with me now if it’s fine with you,” said Steve, chagrined he hadn’t made that clear before. “We can even make it a bubble bath.”

“Okay,” Bucky agreed.

It didn’t take long to prepare the bath and it was still relatively early in the day, so it wasn’t like they had much more to do than wash their faces and soak in the heat.

“Steve?” Bucky murmured. He tapped a foot against Steve’s side.

Startled from a half-doze, Steve sat up.

“I know I kinda derailed the conversation earlier,” Bucky said, “but I was tryna tell you that I wanted it too. It’s just that I can’t see it happening from that perspective. My mind shies away from it when I try. I want to, though. We can make it good for both of us. Just some work. I don’t want to hurt you or freak you out.”

“Right,” said Steve, doing his best to re-focus. “Hey. Since we’re already in the water and all, do you maybe want to…”

He trailed off at Bucky’s expression.

“Water’s not a good lubricant,” Bucky said.

Steve frowned. He’d seen Bucky open himself up. The sight had haunted him after the Lockbox. “But-”

“Used to discomfort and my left hand has no fingernails. Plus, my ass was trained.”

“I can-”

Water sloshed violently as Bucky crossed his arms. “Maybe I don’t want you to, Steve. I don’t want it to be anything but good for you.” He winced. “It probably won’t be very good the first time. I can teach you how to bottom, but I don’t know how the rest goes. Not really.”

There had to be better than they knew from HYDRA. He considered asking JARVIS for educational resources and instantly discarded the idea as beyond the bounds of decency.

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say I can do,” objected Steve, but only because he couldn’t not argue.

“I mostly fingered myself to make sure I was clean enough for Rumlow,” Bucky stated flatly. “And you, later on. No different from washing out my hair. STI’s weren’t a consideration, so he never minded too much if I bled a little. If I didn’t wear the plug on the mission, maybe I’d do some brief maintenance stretching to make sure my rim didn’t immediately tear if someone got impatient, but water’s not the best for it. That’s why lube was included in my standard kit.”

Whatever face Steve was making only made Bucky laugh.

“Relax, Steve. It’s not like that now. You said it: we can take our time getting ready.”

Steve was working on it. “Okay, Buck. You’re in charge.”

“Damn right, I am.”

Bucky’s PR manager asked if they could make another video, one in which Bucky explicitly identified himself as Bucky Barnes.

“No,” said Bucky, though his eyes went to Steve with wariness. “That’s what I want to say and how I want to say it. Steve calls me Bucky plenty.”

On their way out, Steve said, “You are Bucky.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, but you can call me the other names too. Remind me. I can be the asset too because I’m really both.”

“We’re real, Soldier,” Steve promised. “I’m not about to feed you lines.”

“How ‘bout feeding me lunch?”

“That, I can and will do.”

That evening, Bucky came back from a therapy appointment with handful of printed pages and a completely blank face. His left hand was clutching the rolled top of a brown paper lunch bag with so much force his fingertips had punched through.

Relieved to have a reason to abandon the book he had been failing to read the first few pages of for the last hour, Steve set it aside and waited.

There was a bench in the middle of the row of windows on the far end of the floor. Steve wasn’t surprised when Bucky sat down there, back to the windows, and commenced staring into the middle distance.

“Buck?” Steve prompted quietly.

Bucky barely glanced at him. Neither of his hands showed any sign of releasing their burdens.

Cracking his neck as he rose, Steve studied him. Bucky wanted something; his behavior all but screamed for a response. Steve took a step toward him, then two. No reaction. Another. Steve was almost in reach of him before Bucky said, “Stop.”

Freezing in place, Steve waited again.

“I’m supposed to ask questions if I have them,” Bucky told him, still staring into space. His words were the steady cadence of the asset reporting. “I asked. I was given these.” He lifted the papers in his right hand. “And these.” He lifted his the bag in his left. “I don’t know if I can do it, Steve.” Finally, he met Steve’s eyes. “But I don’t think it’s gonna be any easier tomorrow, so maybe we should go for it.” His lips twisted. “Maybe you could order me to do it.”

“Buck,” Steve started to protest.

Bucky shook his head. “Or, I have another idea, but I don’t think you’ll go for that one. I didn’t. I didn’t seriously plan to keep it to use.”

Steve lowered himself to his knees in front of Bucky, careful to keep his eyes on his face instead of looking at what he was holding. “I’m never ordering you to perform any sex act ever again.”

“Permission, then,” Bucky snarled, flushing abruptly. “Or we take all inhibitions off the table like… like…” He deflated. “Don’t look at me like that, Steve. I know. Just… I hate feeling like we have to wait for the goddamn stars to align or something. Sex should be fun, not…” He dropped his head with a sigh and thrust his fistful of papers out. “Here.”

The papers appeared to be a printout of an internet article about safe gay sex. At a glance, most of it didn’t seem relevant. VD, or STI as it was now called, was not a concern for two supersoldiers. “Do I want to know what’s in the bag?” he ventured.

The bag was promptly shoved in his face. “Nothing HYDRA usually bothered with. I guess anyone authorized for my secondary fuck-tion was screened?”

Did he just? Steve blinked. Was that a pun? He looked in the bag and poured a handful of small packets out onto the floor between them. “I don’t know most of these brands, but I take it these are all…”

“Condoms,” Bucky confirmed darkly. “Fucking condoms. Like we need anything else coming between us. And, get this, we’re supposed to have fun experimenting. I thought the point was for me to be less triggered!”

Taken off-guard, Steve let out a burst of air almost like a giggle. Bucky gaped at him.

In surrender, Steve put his hands up and tried to keep his trembling lips sealed.

Scowling, Bucky aimed a half-serious kick at his thigh.

Instinctively, Steve caught his ankle. As his brain caught up with his body, he yanked hard and pulled Bucky out of his seat.

“You punk!” Bucky yelped, and then they were scrambling to pin each other, words done.

“You realize I’m only letting you think you’re letting me pin you,” panted Bucky, some minutes later.

Face in the carpet, Steve grunted something Bucky could interpret however he wished.

“What was that?” He let up so Steve could raise his head.

“We gotta get out of this tower,” Steve told him. “Change of scenery.”

“And get eaten alive? No thanks,” countered Bucky.

But Steve was already wriggling his way free, fueled by a grimly cheerful determination. “C’mon. We’ll be fine. All we have to do is make a reservation someplace they can’t approach us and take a car there. Like a pair of regular swells.”

With a heavy sigh, Bucky rolled off and sprawled on his back on the floor, right hand over his eyes. “This ain’t abouta fix our problem, Steve.”

“It’s not a mission, Buck. We have no orders-”

“Our PR team was pretty fucking clear on our orders-”

Steve ignored that. “-and we’re gonna start chewing the walls if we don’t get out to stretch our legs.”

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky groaned. “No.”

The papers were in crumpled shreds and they would probably be finding condoms under furniture for months, but Steve could only grin. He’d never get tired of hearing Bucky argue.

They didn’t get caught. JARVIS’ silence upon their return felt disapproving, but the headiness of the shared disobedience was such that once they were through their own door they barely had to make eye contact to know the other was on board. Bucky, already half-naked, pushed Steve against the wall and finished helping him out of his clothes just enough to get a hand between them. They didn’t go any farther, and neither of them pushed for more.

Long after they went to bed, Steve lay awake while Bucky slept the relieved and exhausted sleep of the justifiably paranoid. Eventually, Steve considered getting up and attempting to sleep somewhere else. He got up and went to sit on the couch, but he didn’t feel tired enough to lie down. Instead, he went back into their bedroom and took the lube from the bedside table. Bucky fucking him wasn’t a mission, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t approach it strategically.

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Page 59 of 68

Dumpster #5: We didn't start the trashfire

Re: Fill: Depending On One's Position...(3/?)

Re: Fill: Depending On One's Position...(3/?)

trash food

Re: trash food

hawkeye's evil hydra wife

Red Skull/Steve unprompted fill

Fill 110f/110g: Undeniable Plausibility - On to the aftermath!

Fill: The Quiet Game (10.1/?)

Fill: The Quiet Game (10.2/?)

Re: Fill: The Quiet Game (10.2/?)

The Quiet Game (10.1/?) AUTHOR’S NOTE PLEASE READ

Re: Fill 110f/110g: Undeniable Plausibility - On to the aftermath!

Re: Fill 110f/110g: Undeniable Plausibility - On to the aftermath!

Herd of harvested Bucky duplicates

Re: Herd of harvested Bucky duplicates

Re: Herd of harvested Bucky duplicates

Re: Herd of harvested Bucky duplicates

trash up zemo please

Re: Herd of harvested Bucky duplicates

Re: trash up zemo please

Gangbang with an audience/ self-inflicted orgasm denial

Re: Gangbang with an audience/ self-inflicted orgasm denial

(frozen comment) Re: Twisted through sick lullabyes

Re: Fill: Rejectamenta (4/?)

Fill 110g/110h: Undeniable Plausibility - On to the aftermath!