Dumpster #5: We didn't start the trashfire

[trashmod]

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)]

Comments

Someone gets off on making the Asset cry

[(Anonymous)]

Inspired by the prompt where someone gets off on the Asset being dumb, what it says on the tin. Some ideas:

-Hurting the Asset so much he cries (either involuntary tears or they break him so much he is actually crying and begging to stop) and then fucking him, which obviously just adds more pain.
-Manipulating him: gaslighting or making him confused to the point of tears (conflicting orders, perhaps, or a well-played "But I knew him" situation).
-Making him cry happy grateful tears because omg this handler is so nice, it even pets his hair while he fucks him.

I'd rather the Asset not be childish, just under a lot of stress and/or pain that the right person can manipulate for their liking.

Re: Someone gets off on making the Asset cry

[(Anonymous)]

absolutely delicious *sets up camp*

Re: Someone gets off on making the Asset cry

[(Anonymous)]

OP of the “dumb” prompt here heart eyeing u tbh.

Poor Bucky! Aftermath could kill a man too...

Re: Someone gets off on making the Asset cry

[(Anonymous)]

Hello, I'm glad you like it!

TBH While I love aftermath fics, I didn't have any ideas about it. Maybe Bucky starts crying in front of Steve and/or The Avengers and panics, because he associates crying with being raped...

Re: Someone gets off on making the Asset cry

[(Anonymous)]

Or someone else cries and Bucky panics?
Or he physically can’t cry?
Or something idk. It’s such a cruel prompt, I want to see someone reeling from it.

Re: Someone gets off on making the Asset cry

[(Anonymous)]

It’s such a cruel prompt.

Is it too bad I took it as a compliment? Anyway, I like all these ideas!

Fill: Weepy, Steve/Bucky

[(Anonymous)]

Sorry this isn't porny, or sexy in the slightest. Hope it kind of fits what you were after? Also, I have another three or so ideas related to this prompt so don't be surprised if you get more fills on this... But I just wanted to write something.

***

Bucky hadn't meant to hope, but it was an insidious little bastard that had wormed its way inside of him. He'd always believed in that little punk, and that belief was going to be the death of him.

When they'd found him, through the haze of pain, he'd thought that maybe they were there to rescue him. But the voices had been unfamiliar, and the uniforms unfamiliar, and then there was a voice that was *very* familiar. The pain hadn't stopped. He didn't even have the strength to scream that first day, but in the fog in his mind, he kept hoping, kept *believing* that Steve would come and rescue him.

But then a day had passed, and Steve wasn't there. The pain was deeper, and his mind sharper. That horrible familiar voice and the man attached to it did things to him. There was mind-clouding agony, over and over again. Still, he held on, and he fought, knowing that any hour now, Steve would be there. He'd done it before, and he'd do it again.

A week passed, nothing.

A month, maybe, he'd lost track of days, and nothing.

He was starting to lose a little of that hope, and he knew that everyone could sense it. He fought back harder, tried to escape, to save himself. But it only lead to more pain, pain so bad that he vomited over himself, that he passed out.

Like a mantra, he clung to his name, his numbers, mumbling them over and over. His first real mistake was verbalising Steve as his last hope; he hadn't meant to, but somewhere in the depths of his mind, he kept believing that maybe Steve would come for him. That traitorous voice had opened its fucking mouth, literally, begging for Steve for find him, and everything had stopped.

The scientists, the guards, everyone in the room stopped.

The pain paused.

The whir of machinery continued, dull in the background.

Bucky had fucked up, but he didn't know how.

And then, there had been laughter. Laughter at him. Laughter because Captain America had perished weeks ago. Furiously, breathing heavily, holding on with every last vestige of strength, he didn't believe it. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

It took several more weeks, months even, before Bucky believed it. But once he did... it was endgame really. Steve wasn't coming for him. And Steve was dead.

He tried, desperately, not to let them see how it affected him. But they knew. They had prodded, and pried, and torn him apart just to see how he worked. And they knew Steve was his weakness.

The guards didn't mind the screaming. They didn't mind the fighting; they liked it when he fought, liked that they could hurt him physically, without having to hold back. They seemed to enjoy the struggling.

After that, it was easy. The mind control, the torture. They were one thing, but it was after the scientists had left that the real horror always began. They didn't care how long it took his body to regenerate, what kinds of things his body could do. But they were impressed with how quickly he healed after the things they did to him each night, breathing in his ear about how it was like he was a sweet little virgin again.

His main handler was the worst. He didn't care about him feeling like a virgin each night, and he was even gentle at times. Well, as gentle as a person could be with a gun to his head. Physical violence was his style; but the soldier could handle that. It was the mind stuff that really fucked him up.

It was the whisper in his ear of Captain America perishing at Hydra's hands. How he'd tried to save the soldier, how he'd come for him, how he'd screamed for his friend, and how they'd made him suffer. His handler loved to regale him in details of the things they'd done to Captain America, the tortures they'd made him endure, how they'd raped him until there was nothing left, all while he screamed for Bucky.

His handler said he liked it when the soldier cried, loved the little sobs that would shake his body, make him that much tighter. Captain America had been the same, he promised, but with even more fight than the soldier. That was why they'd had to kill him, but slowly, so they could test the limits of his super soldier body.

After, his handler would lick his tears, clutching the soldier's face with one hand, and dragging the tip of his tongue up his cheek. And somehow, that felt dirtier than every abuse against his body.

The soldier tried to fight it, knew that each time he broke he was giving his handler exactly what he wanted. But every time, his handler found the right spot to push. And soon, all it took was seeing his handler for the tears to start, the sobs to shake his body.

*

When the soldier had an episode and killed his handler, he thought maybe that was the end of it. The physical tortures would continue, but at least the mind torture could finally stop.

As with his hope of being rescued; he was wrong.

*

Now that they knew the limits of his body, his handlers got worse. He didn't know how he knew that, couldn't remember his last handlers, but he just... knew. These were worse. Way worse.

They knew how to hurt him in ways he didn't even understand. They locked him to the floor, limp and broken, and then they'd take turns in seeing who could make the soldier cry first. They liked physical pain, which was a welcome relief. He didn't remember the mind pain, but he knew he preferred the physical.

On the cold floor of his cell, three handlers surrounded him. He didn't know what they used, just that he screamed until his throat felt like it was burning. They'd add insult to injury by fucking his mouth, making him gag and drool over himself, his eyes run. They laughed, but the soldier never understood what was so funny. They called him names, but he never understood what they were saying.

They used his body for hours, making him bleed, making him scream, making him cry. They always laughed when he cried, sniffing and sobbing into his upper arms, his arms always pulled taut in front of him.

He always tried not to, begged them to stop, begged them in every language he knew, told them he'd do anything, please just stop, please just stop. He always started silent, hoping that maybe, maybe if he didn't react, he'd be okay and it would be over with. But they liked to keep going until he was sobbing, clenching around their cocks with each convulsion of his body.

Sometimes, he even enjoyed what they were doing. They laughed when that happened too, and just hurt him until there was no way for him to enjoy it anymore.

*

The soldier learned not to cry alone, because crying always brought them in, and bringing them in meant pain.

*

It had been years. The soldier *knew* it had been years, lots of them, too many to count.

So when Captain America... Steve... found him, the soldier had wondered if this was a new experiment to try and break him more. It was going to work. Sobs broke from him almost instantly; Steve was still his weakest point. He had known painpainpain was going to come after this, but he hadn't been able to stop himself.

And then Steve had touched his face, and the experiment had felt so real, more real than any experiment the soldier had been through. Steve had brushed the tears off his face and didn't shove him into the floor to take advantage of his ugly crying, and that was the first hint that Bucky had that this might not be an experiment.

Instead, Steve cried too.

Re: Fill: Weepy, Steve/Bucky

[(Anonymous)]

Not OP but I enjoyed this immensely, thank you!

Re: Fill: Weepy, Steve/Bucky

[(Anonymous)]

OP here! I was so excited to see this prompt get filled, and what an awesome fill it is! I love everything about it, but I guess my favourite thing is the deliciously cruel image of the Soldier's body clenching around dicks as he cries. It's the special kind of fucked up I was going for with this prompt. And I love the ending as well because I come for the trash but I stay for the horribly painful aftermath.

Thank you so so much for the fill and I'd love it if you felt inclined to write anything else.