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

[FILL] Wormwood [1/4] (Jack Rollins + team cap, torture, Hydra husbands)

[(Anonymous)]

A/N: This is my first time writing torture, and I'm a little self-conscious. Please, let me know if you liked it!

WORMWOOD
Part one: WILSON

Winter Soldier pushed his gun between Maria Hill's trembling lips.

"Yeah, take it all in," Jack crooned mockingly. "We will play nice if you do."

She glared at him across the room. With her hair tousled and in her torn nightgown, it was less than impressive.

They had surprised her in her home while she was getting ready for bed. Tying her to a chair in her dining room had been a child's play; perhaps Jack didn't need the Soldier's help that night at all. Still, it felt good to have him around. Jack always worked better with someone by his side. Having control over someone else made keeping himself in check easier.

The Soldier slightly retracted the gun, and Maria's glare focused on him instead. The Soldier was equally unimpressed with it. He pushed the gun in again, the sight pulling on her lip and the metal clanking against her teeth.

Jack and Maria went way back, and he had gotten to know her quite well. He knew she was trying not to blush once she realized what that must have looked like, but it wasn't something she had any control over; she went red in her ears and high in her cheeks as the Soldier fucked her mouth with his gun.

"Yeah..." Jack said in a low voice. "Do you feel how hard it is? If you keep sucking on it real nice, it'll cum."

She glared at him again with pure hatred, but there was fear hiding behind it. The flush slowly faded, leaving her sweaty face unnaturally pale. Jack knew that feeling; knew what it was like to feel that weight, taste the metal on his tongue, and expect death. He waited for some sort of satisfaction upon seeing the same terror he once had felt mirrored on her face, but he had never been more hollow. He sighed.

"He won't stop until I tell him, you know," he said conversationally and, having finished drawing all the blinds in the room, sat down in a chair across from her. He rested his elbows on his thighs, leaning in. "He got an order and he always follows them. He knows bad things happen when he doesn't."

His eyes left Maria's pale face to scrutinize the Soldier's. They had lost the half-face mask somewhere even before the Battle at the Triskelion, and it still felt weird to watch his blank face as he tormented his targets. It was good it was blank though; any emotion was a sign of an impending malfunction. Jack wasn't expecting any yet; the Soldier had been treated in the Memory Suppressing Machine just the previous night, right before the Bank was plundered by what had remained of S.H.I.E.L.D. that moved the Machine somewhere else.

Satisfied with the Soldier's status, he looked back at Maria.

"He'll just keep fucking your face if you won't cooperate," he continued. "He'll do it for hours until he, well... can't hold it in anymore and shoots off."

When the Soldier pulled the gun out again, she managed to lean back for long enough to ask, "What do you want?" before the Soldier grabbed her hair with his metal hand and snapped her head back in place.

"Answers."

The gun clanked against her teeth in the silence that fell, and, finally, her chin trembling, Maria slightly nodded.



*



Wilson was surprisingly easy to find, and even easier to get to. Pretty dumb of the man to make himself so available. Didn't he know he had enemies?

Well, Jack thought to himself as he watched Wilson struggle against his desk in his small office at the VA, pinned down by the Winter Soldier, he did now.

He grabbed a lone chair standing against the wall and dragged it across the carpeted floor in front of the desk, bringing Wilson's attention to himself. He stopped struggling for a moment, his dark eyes tracking Jack's moves. Jack turned the chair around and sat astride it.

A few moments passed in silence as they just watched each other, calculating, both wondering what was going on in the other's head. Jack then lost interest and pulled a bundle of rope out of his jacket's pocket. He reached for Wilson's wrist.

"No," Wilson choked out, the Soldier's hand pressing down between his shoulder blades not letting him draw enough air into his lungs. The struggle started anew; Wilson's sweaty wrist slipped out of Jack's grasp as he pushed back against the Soldier, but he didn't budge.

"Asset," Jack said, and the Soldier grabbed Wilson's wrist with his metal hand. Wilson grunted as his arm was stretched painfully across the desk towards its front leg. Jack tied his wrist to the leg, and then the procedure repeated for the other one.

Wilson was panting when they were done, standing up on his toes to accommodate his arms, his ass up in the air. Excellent. Jack beckoned the Soldier over, and he picked something up from behind the desk before complying. He handed it to Jack, and Jack raised it for Wilson to see. Wilson frowned in confusion at the sight of his broken, mangled wing.

"I hear my friend here tore it out of your little jetpack," Jack said. "You could have died. Shame." He handed the wing back to the Soldier. "Maybe if you did, he wouldn't have been held up. Wouldn't be fighting for his life right now."

"What the--" Sweat gathered on Wilson's forehead as he struggled to understand who Jack was talking about. Jack could pinpoint the exact second he figured it out as his eyes widened in horrified understanding. "He survived?"

Jack scoffed. "I guess it doesn't matter to you if a so-called bad guy kicked the bucket because of you, does it?" He shook his head. "You good guys are full of shit."

"So what," Wilson spat, "you're here to kill me now?"

He was obviously addressing Jack, but his eyes kept nervously flicking to the Soldier. Jack contemplated his answer. He hadn't planned on telling Wilson anything apart from the reason why; he had wanted to surprise him, to keep him guessing. But now he wanted to tell Wilson exactly what he had in mind and see the look of horror on his face.

"There's one thing I want to do and see where it will take me," Jack admitted quietly, "so murder isn't exactly off the table." He glanced at the wing. "It's quite simple: I wanna shove this up your ass."

Wilson let out an aborted, nervous snort. Then, upon realizing Jack wasn't joking, his eyes widened. He looked from the wing to Jack in disbelief.

Jack wasn't ready for the wave of disappointment that hit him. The idea seemed to be too shocking for Wilson to get properly terrified. He swallowed down the bitter taste in his mouth, stood up, and circled the desk, stopping in front of Wilson's ass. He reached around to undo his pants, and that must have been when Wilson fully realized that yes, that was happening.

"Wait, fuck--what?!" he choked out. "Are you--are you crazy?!"

He stopped talking when Jack pressed his finger to his delicate asshole. Jack figured he was simply rendered speechless.

"Looks tight," Jack said quietly, as if to himself. He then looked at the Soldier and gave him a slight nod.

The Soldier broke off one of the metal parts with ease, sending screws flying in the air; the carbon fiber tore like silk. He handed it to Jack. Seeing that, Wilson pulled at his bindings with a shout. Frowning, Jack hit him with the part of the wing across his ass, and Wilson let out another strangled yelp.

"I advise you to shut up," Jack said in a cruel voice, "because if anybody hears and decides to check on you? The moment they open the door, they're dead." Bracing his hands against the desk, he folded himself down over Wilson's back and, with his mouth close to his ear, lowering his voice, he added, "We're here only for you. So if anyone else gets hurt? It'll be entirely on you."

“Fuck you.”

"I'm a reasonable man, Wilson," Jack continued as if he didn’t hear the unimaginative comeback. "I can help you keep quiet. Do you want me to?"

Wilson was panting angrily against the desk, his sweaty back brushing Jack's front with every rise of his chest, and now Jack regretted not seeing his face. He could hear Wilson's teeth grit and the rope squeak as he tried to pull his wrists free again, but only hurt himself in the process.

"I used to be a sailor, you know," Jack added conversationally. "If I'm good at something, it's tying knots."

He leaned back, shifting his focus to the metal in his hand. It was thin, but long, not unlike a rod. Too long for forcing it all in to be possible. Not that it mattered. He looked up at Wilson's ass, grabbed one buttock, and pulled it to the side to inspect his hole again.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked in a professional tone, as if he was leading a job interview and asking about Wilson's qualifications. "You look like one. Don't worry, you're in good hands. I know how to make the first time memorable. I don't wanna brag, but my methods are known to make my partners scream, so you might wanna bite your tongue."

"Fine!" Wilson spat out the word like it was an insult. Quieter, much quieter, he added, "Gag me."

"Sorry?" Jack asked, unable to stop the nasty grin that began to split his lips. "Didn't catch that."

Wilson's body must have been shaking mainly from anger and discomfort, but Jack liked the thought it could also be fear. He couldn't wait for it to be pain, too.

"Gag me," Wilson repeated louder, his voice dripping with hatred.

Jack nodded at the Soldier. Without a second thought, he grabbed a couple of papers from Wilson's desk and crumpled them into a ball.

"You don't have to listen to him," Wilson said when the Soldier crouched in front of him. "You can beat him."

"Why would he?" Jack asked flatly as the Soldier forced the paper ball into Wilson's mouth. "We're friends."

The Soldier looked up at him, and the faintest hint of a smile showed up on his face for maybe half a second before it was overcome by that blank look again.

Or maybe it was Jack's imagination playing tricks on him. It didn't matter.

He adjusted his grip on the metal and, without any warning, he shoved it in the exposed hole before him.

Wilson screamed. God, how he screamed. Jack was suddenly grateful for the paper gag muffling it all; a crowd of concerned people showing up in Wilson's office would have surely put an end to the revenge mission he gave himself.

He forced only about seven inches in before he was met with a distinct resistance. Wilson must have been clenching pretty hard. His muscles were pulled taut, his arms and legs shaking. Blood pooled around the rod and dripped down straight into Jack's hand.

Jack waited. He waited until Wilson stopped screaming; until he started gasping for air around the mouthful of paper, sniffling. Until his legs gave out and he slumped against the desk.

Nothing.

Wasn't revenge supposed to make him feel good? Ever since he learned about what had happened to Brock, he had been fantasizing about hurting the people who caused it. He wanted to give them as much pain as Brock had been forced to endure under the burning rubble of the Trisk. But now, as he was doing exactly that, he felt nothing. Maybe he was a little grossed out.

Maybe it was because he was just starting out. There was plenty of the wing left to shove up Wilson's ass after all.

He pressed his finger against Wilson's stretched, torn hole, causing more blood to pour out and stain the classy cream carpet. Wilson clenched up instinctively with another pained sound escaping his throat. It didn't stop Jack from prodding his hole, and he was rewarded with a grunt that was verging on a growl. When he managed to force his finger in, Wilson screamed again.

"Who would have thought? There's place for another one," Jack sneered, pulling his finger out and throwing the Soldier a meaningful look.

The new metal part was shorter and thicker this time, and Jack thought forcing it in would really take effort. He didn't mind in the slightest. He pushed one end between Wilson's ass cheeks, forcing them apart.

It took longer this time around. Jack had to be slow and help himself with his fingers to stretch the bleeding hole even further. Wilson started his screaming anew before Jack even worked the tip in, and despite the paper in his mouth, it was becoming too loud.

"Shut him up, will ya?" Jack prompted the Soldier flatly.

The Soldier pushed the soaked in saliva ball farther into Wilson's throat, and he choked around it, thrashing against the desk, making the metal piece's tip slip out of his ass. Jack cursed under his breath. He tried to force it back in, but it seemed that small victory brought back Wilson's fight; he kept thrashing and kicking out and tugging his wrists. Jack stepped back with a deep sigh to avoid his heels that were aiming at his shins. He glared at the Soldier.

"What are you waiting for?"

The Soldier dropped his gaze as if in shame. He got up to his feet and closed Wilson's shoulders in a vice grip. Wilson still kept kicking out, but after a few more seconds, he gave up again. He let his body slump, coughing and wheezing around his gag. Jack reclaimed his place behind his ass.

"This is happening, Wilson," he said, forcing the wing piece back inside Wilson's hole. "Fight all you want, but if I were you, I'd invest that energy into keeping alive, because best case scenario? You end up in a diaper for the rest of your life."

When the piece was finally forced seven inches in beside the other, Wilson lost his voice. He wasn't even standing on his feet anymore, letting the desk support him. He was shaking and bleeding and suffocating.

"Now, maybe," Jack said, poking his ass cheek with another piece ripped out by the Soldier, "maybe you're feeling some of the pain and fear he had felt."

Of course, the two situations weren't at all similar, but the feeling of helplessness and impending doom stayed the same regardless of circumstances, of that Jack was sure. And yet, he still felt nothing.

Maybe he should have included fire in his revenge. Something to think about for the next one.

He sighed to himself. "Well, this ass isn't gonna fuck itself."

He prodded the profusely bleeding asshole with his finger again. It didn't even look like an asshole anymore, but something grotesque from the most hardcore porno. Jack poked it around until he found an opening at the very bottom.

He only began working the third piece in, when Wilson slumped further on the desk, and stilled. A sharp smell of urine reached Jack's nose. He looked down at the rapidly expanding dark stain on the carpet. Wilson pissed himself.

Jack looked at the Soldier with his eyebrows raised. "Did he just die on me?"

The Soldier pressed the fingers of his flesh hand to Wilson's neck. "Unconscious."

Jack pursed his lips. "Pathetic." Now, with Wilson's muscles lax, he had less trouble forcing the third piece in, but it didn't go further than three inches. "That wasn't fun at all." He dug a teaspoon out of his jacket's pocket. "Alright. One more thing."

Re: [FILL] Wormwood [1/4] (Jack Rollins + team cap, torture, Hydra husbands)

[(Anonymous)]

OP here, holy fuck I thought this prompt was completely forgotten. Like really wasnt expecting a fill happening anytime soon. Now this. This is excellent. It's creepy and gross and I absolutely love how you write Jack not having much fun with what he's doing (is it cuz he's too worried about Brock or simply cuz he has Issues, big time. Maybe both. Can't wait to find out). Anyways I'm just gonna camp out here stoked af for more of this, dont mind me.

Re: [FILL] Wormwood [1/4] (Jack Rollins + team cap, torture, Hydra husbands)

[(Anonymous)]

I'm so glad you're still around and enjoying this, OP (: Thank you!