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.

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steve falls off the train with bucky and they both end up with hydra. as part of his torture, steve is forced to watch/participate in trash parties.

+ participation being presented as a reward for good behavior
++ Bucky's reward for good behavior is - you guessed it - participating in a party with Steve as the favor

(very kindly beta'd by dance. Thanks, dance!)

The Captain understands tactics, but he doesn't understand people. That's why he doesn't scream.

The Soldier, on the other hand, understands the importance of perceived suffering, so he screams as much as their handlers want. Cries. Writhes. While the Captain huffs his pain through his teeth as if unimpressed.

Put less generously: the Captain is stiff-necked even in slavery, because there is something their owners could not burn out of him, something the Soldier gave up to the Chair years ago.

Weakness is not without its advantages. The Soldier is much better at suffering, so when it amuses them to turn them on each other, sometimes as punishment, sometimes as reward, it is usually the Captain hurting the Soldier. The Captain's broad hands around his neck, the Captain's knee in his back, the Captain's piss in his mouth.

The Soldier would not have it any other way and it is essential that their owners never discover this. The Captain's usefulness wouldn't stay their cruelty; it never does.

Tonight: reward. The Captain oversaw the disposal of the car and its two occupants—embroidered though the plan was by their handlers' stupid stipulations. The Captain's plans are almost always successful, but he shines during extended missions—their support teams become squadrons and cities fall in a night. Even the handlers look at the Captain with something like awe when they're out in the field.

The looks change when it is time for rewards.

Tonight, the Captain must watch as the ranks take their turns. The Soldier has been thrown to the foot-soldiers—although they certainly didn't do any of the goddamn work. The Captain planned the operation and the Soldier did the grunt work.

The Captain has been ordered to drink beer and watch as they proceed.

The higher-ups are the first with the Soldier, at least those interested in breaking him in for the night. Anyone who survives HYDRA long enough gets bored of the Soldier eventually. Everyone but the Captain. Still, they get the best screams; they're the most likely to notice if he doesn't put in the effort.

The mid-level operatives follow. They take the longest: they're experienced enough to know exactly what they like from the Soldier without rushing it. This is when the injuries start to heal even as others accumulate. It's a confusing kind of pain: the feeling of bones mending is no good for his focus tonight. They're starting to test his stamina. What's worse, they crowd him so he can't watch the Captain.

Now, he's dealing with the least of them. Some of them have never even gotten their hands on the Soldier before and go off like teenage boys. They're nothing. His biggest enemy here is time.

The Captain will go last.

The Soldier chokes on the cock in his mouth because it'll hurry the man along, and the shudder lets him see the Captain, just for a moment. There's another behind him, in him, but the Soldier's in so much pain at this point that it barely registers. Blunt fingernails scrabble at his hips as he risks another shudder, another split-second look at the Captain, who watches him with a beautiful, blank face.

It is tempting, sometimes to look at the Captain's impassive face and imagine that he does not care about the Soldier's suffering. That it does not pain him. But the Soldier knows it does. On long operations, the agents who enjoy the Soldier's dramatics the most are the ones that disappear, sooner or later.

Even handlers and those above them are not fully immune to the Captain's displeasure. There was a coup that killed off a commander who liked to torture the Soldier, who kept him out of the field. The Captain left the commander to the mercy of men eager to prove their devotion to his usurper. It took days.

The current commander is much more interested in consolidating HYDRA's grip on the world than torturing the Soldier. He consults with the Captain, keeps him out of the ice to provide his expertise.

It is a strange thought that the Captain's slow, patient justice has made HYDRA a more effective force in the world. The exact reason behind its strangeness is not entirely clear. Like the Captain's rare mercy, its provenance is unknown.

Sometimes they give him to the Captain to use alone. The experience is not that much less violent, but one man's abuse—even if that one man is the Captain—can't compare to the endless evenings. The Captain only demonstrates kindness when it cannot be seen. And when isn't someone watching?

Nights like this one have been rarer recently. This time the gagging is real as the operative shudders into his mouth. That sets off the other—perhaps they're friends? Not that it matters—and soon the Soldier collapses on the floor. Drool and cum leak out of him, and he gargles something in the very back of his throat that's gummed by the accumulation of mucus. A fine sight for the Captain, who finishes his drink as the few remaining onlookers cheer.

If the Soldier had the energy to hate, he'd hate the ones that stay until the very end to shout orders at the Captain. They think he's following their directives, when really the unimaginative cruelties they shout out just happen to match what HYDRA expects the Captain to do anyway. The really creative thinkers are all too high-up to bother with this.

The Soldier can't see, but he knows the Captain is looking at him, ignoring the shouts. Blue eyes like ocean-depths, hiding luminous monsters.

The real orders were casually dropped much earlier. The handler that waved the Captain to his reward didn't even stay to watch the orders carried out.

If the Soldier had to guess, he'd suspect that handler isn't going to live much longer. The likeliest replacement grew up following the Captain—ageless warrior, angry god—and treats him like it.

The Captain's boots are heavy on the floor before he rolls the Soldier flat on his back with the tip of a tread. It's the gentlest he'll be with an audience. The Soldier's gaze swims as he tries to look up at the Captain. He's a blur of black and red.

He won't have to act for the Captain. Never could.

OP here OMG THIS IS BEAUTIFUL THANK YOU I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE IF THERE'S MORE

Wow, I love this!

MY HEART, omg, wonderful. (Horrible)

This is so good! Really heartbreaking. I like how the Captain shows mercy only to an extend and only when no one is watching closely. I just want them to be alone somewhere so the soldier can be treated gently for once. Please and thank you.

(Un)Holy god, this is amazing!! The way you have the Soldier narrating is perfect, and his descriptions paint such a painfully beautiful picture.

Blue eyes like ocean-depths, hiding luminous monsters.

Chills. I love this fill, can't wait to see where it goes!

Wow, this is REALLY REALLY GOOD; I read it twice through the other day and haven't been able to get it off my mind since! I love this world you're building and I can't wait for more!

The Soldier fails to notice the bucket until the Captain puts it down. More accurately, it might be called a tub but everything looks small in the Captain's unforgiving hands. It sloshes when he places it on the floor, slopping water that hurries toward the Soldier's outstretched arm. Traces the metal with a gentleness that should horrify.

The bucket is very full. The Captain carried like it was nothing.

Traitorous neurons flash the message to struggle--not to get away from the Captain, but from the water--but the Soldier mostly remains still. Looking up at the Captain, he struggles to remember the details of the orders. But when the Captain bends, when his beautiful face comes closer, every order falls away but the truest one.

Be good for the Captain. It supersedes everything, even the barest layers of his programming. The Soldier goes limp when the Captain seizes him by the hair and shoulders. The Captain holds the Soldier just above the surface to stare at a shuddering reflection. Somewhere behind the reflection's shoulder, the Captain waits.

The Captain presses him under the surface of the water and he tries, truly tries, not to struggle. Anything the Captain does is for the good of HYDRA.

If he drowned the Asset, there would be a reason. Despite that knowledge, despite the cringing desire to be good, there are confusing signals: twitching muscles, approaching panic. And the other, deep-laid imperatives: be useful to HYDRA, remain functional unless expressly ordered otherwise.

The Soldier wants so much to be good.

Despite this, he starts to struggle and the Captain pulls him up. He waits for the Soldier to blink away the confusion, catch his unimpressed expression. The captain raps him on the brow--Smarten up, soldier--and pushes him under again.

The Soldier manages to keep still longer this time, but panic blooms like it always does and when the Captain pulls him up again, the Soldier vomits water and cum and stomach acid.

Perhaps that was the point of the exercise: sometimes buckets and water are for cleaning. Except the Captain puts him under again and his hands are unyielding, even to panic. The Soldier starts to claw at the tub, clutching hard enough it deforms the shape, that his fingers--metal and otherwise--scrabble at the floor.

But the Captain just waits.

The Soldier is dimly aware of receding pressure, of the shock of air and wretched, filling lungs. But he is being brought up, away from the misery of the water up to the Captain's chest and held close.

The Captain carries him like that all the way back to their quarters.

But when the Captain bends, when his beautiful face comes closer, every order falls away but the truest one. Be good for the Captain. Okay I'm officially obsessed with this story. It's so good! Thanks for this latest delightfully horrifying update. <3

Fuck, turns out I have a heart after all. :O
I love this fic.

This is wonderful! I can’t even put my finger on why it’s so sublime but it is! I’m invested.

I continue to adore this fill!

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Dumpster #5: We didn't start the trashfire

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