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: The Quiet Game (5/?)

[devildears]

Agent Ward was a man of his word. They were 10 guys in total, 7 inside the small hut at all times, and some Bucky had to suffer through more than once. They used whatever weapons they had against him, anything that struck their fancy - their dicks, their guns, the shaft of a powered-up stun baton. Bucky’s body swallowed it all, more or less voluntarily. 

At least they weren’t interested in making him get off on it. His participation wasn’t required, other than to lie there and take it. When they realized that he wouldn’t fight back no matter what, they even stopped holding him down. 

Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that they were disappointed when he didn’t try to escape or move from his spot. Their lack of experience in the field made them itch for a fight against the famous Winter Soldier, for a chance to break him, to prove themselves to their ruthless commander. Others had tried before and Bucky wasn’t going to give them anything beyond what was necessary to achieve his self-imployed mission.

In the end, they got what they wanted anyways, raping him on the table and dragging it out, one brutal thrust after the other, taunting him and uttering threats all the while. 

No one touched the children. Bucky’s compliance payed for it in full. Even his rapists seemed to respect that. 

He wasn’t sure how much the little kids saw or how well they could guess at what was happening in front of them. Judging by the occasional cries of protest and the soft sound of surpressed wailing, it was more than enough.

It was a pipe dream, Bucky thought, the illusion that some day, maybe, they could forget what horrors they had seen in his home and move on with their lives. As long as his back was turned the other way and they didn’t have to look at the bleeding wound, Bucky told himself that they would be ok.

Maybe it seemed less real, a little kinder to both him and the little kids than the alternative. Other than that, distracting the men with his body, staying as quiet as possible through the ordeal and showing them how to play the game was all he could do for them. 

Ward was the last one to go, shoving in three extra fingers besides his dick as if he wanted to tear his victim from the inside. He was the only participant who had bothered with a condom, too, like it meant something. Some sort of privilege not to mix with the others guy’s mess. 

Bucky whimpered at the unnatual stretch and grabbed the table hard enough to dent it. 

“Look at you take it,” Agent Ward said and laughed mercilessly. “You’d do anything for them, wouldn’t you?” He hocked a thumb underneath the fragile skin on the other side of Bucky’s hole and yanked outwards. 

Something tore. Chest heaving and stomach turning, Bucky muffled a tortured scream. There was so much blood between his legs already that it hardly made a difference. 

He was almost glad suddenly, that Number 8 and 9 had tried to get inside of him at the same time earlier. Otherwise, the shock might have gotten the best of him. 

“Now you remember your real owners, isn’t that right?” Agent Ward hissed in Bucky’s ear as he was rutting inside of him, twisting his fingers cruelly, again and again, leaving flecks of spit on Bucky’s tear-streaked face. “Hydra is everywhere.”

Bucky clenched as much as he was still able to, praying for it to stop, and Ward finally blew his load with a grunt. He rested his entire weight on Bucky’s back, sweaty and panting. His men whistled and applauded, calling Bucky a slut, a fine piece of ass.

“Look at that,” Agent Ward said. He pulled out with a smug expression and wiped off the fresh blood that was running down his fingers on the other man’s cheek. “You’re disgusting.”

Bucky shuddered. Not once did he regret his choice to save the children from these monsters. Not once. 

Yes, he had bled, and cried, and pleaded with them when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore but in the end, he managed to win the game by a cheat. Most of the sounds he made were swallowed by the rotten piece of fabric in his mouth.

---

When they were finally satisfied, Ward and his goons packed up and left the hut without a fuss, taking their guns and the mocking sound of laughter with them.

Bucky waited until they were out of sight and he heard the roaring of the jet’s engine before he got up from the table, his movements sluggish and pained, mindful not to expose himself to the children’s traumatized eyes any more than he already had.

The first limping step was torture, a nauseating ache, sharp and alarming like his insides had been shredded by glass. Bucky groaned and took a deep breath. With some difficulty, he managed to pull out the spit-soaked cloth in his mouth without gagging and rapped the rest of the ripped Shuka tight around his violated body.

Exhausted and barely holding onto his own sanity, wobbling on shaking legs, he let himself sink to the floor where he stood. Bucky sat besides a puddle of his own blood and flith, hunched over in pain, and couldn’t bring himself to look at the evidence of what had happened. He also couldn’t curl up into a ball like he wanted to yet. Not with an audience. 

“The game’s over,” Bucky whispered. He didn’t recognize his own voice.

The hut was dead-quiet. No one said a word.

“Don’t you understand? We’re safe now. They’re gone.”

Nothing. It seemed as if the children were too afraid to even move from their place at the wall, probably frozen in shock. When Bucky picked up his head to face them, they stared at him from across the room, eyes wide in horror and confusion. It made him feel dirty and wrong. 

Bucky sighed and rubbed at his face, hoping to wipe away some of the mess, the smeared blood, and sweat, and dried tears there. “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Why don’t we practice counting from 100 backwards out loud, huh?”

There was no reaction. 

“No? I know you can do it. Come on. You can talk now. Try it with me. 100... 99, 98...”

The kids stayed silent and kept looking at him like a creature of hell, a manifestation of their nightmares, their gaze fixed on the blood on his clothes, and his legs, and the wretched table. Bucky’s eyes stung. He tried to blink away the flare of shame and disappointment. His relationship with the children had given him so much joy. Now it was just another thing Hydra had ruined for him...

Suddenly, the youngest girl, Arih, started to count. “97,” she whispered to the others in a small voice. Bucky called her ‘Little Miss Brave’ because she loved to ride his goats like a military commander going into battle. “96, 95, 94...” She seemed to gain more confidence with every number, her sweet voice rising in volume. Bucky was so proud. “Yenzele yona!” she said. Do it for him. “93, 92...”

One child after the other joined in. Even the young boys followed suit after a while. They repeated the whole exercise 3 times with little mistakes. Rather impressive. Their eagerness broke something in Bucky. What it was he couldn’t say. 

“Great. Wonderful. You did well. Now go home,” Bucky told them, his voice scraped raw. “Go. Do what I tell you for once in your life, alright? We’re done. Go home. All of you. Hamba!” Go.

Tamia picked up her cousin T’Waki’s little hand and together they ran outside. The unmowed grass swolled the sound of their footsteps. 

The other kids followed soon, leaving only the quiet behind. 

---

“Bucky, did they—”

“They didn’t touch the kids.”

“That’s not what I’m asking and you know it!” Steve’s voice wavered. He’d come back from his mission tired but victorious, only 3 and a half hours too late. There, hiding away in their home, Captain America found his boyfriend exactly how Hydra had left him - bloody and defiled. 

Bucky had given himself the exact time it took to count from 0 to 2110 to fall apart after the kids had left. Then he began to clean up the blood and spunk and broken glass from the table and wiped the floor like nothing had happened. He ignored the inevitable sting, the cramping and trickle-down of fluids between his legs with every step as he got to work. The serum would take care of the rest soon enough. 

He hadn’t managed to change or wash himself yet when Steve came inside. In truth, he had completely forgotten about it, forgotten about his partners impeding arrival. No wonder Steve was appalled by the state he was in... Or maybe it was all about Hydra. 

“It was Ward, Grant Ward and his men,” Bucky said, voice thin and raspy. “I knew him from before. You might, too, actually. He was an undercover agent at S.H.I.E.L.D. who used to train as my handler. The kids— They were playing outside when they came...” 

“Listen—”

“They didn’t touch them. I made sure of it. I cooperated. I was good. They...” Bucky took a deep shuddering breath. “The kids will be alright.”

“Buck...”

“They’re ok. So, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Bucky! Jesus... Just look at yourself! You’re bleeding through your goddamn clothes!”

Bucky wrapped the rest of his Shuka tighter around himself and gathered up the pillows and blankets with muddy bootprints on them to throw them in the hamper, groaning under the strain. “It’s nothing. It’ll heal.”

“Buck? Listen....” Steve tried gentler, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder where the metal socket was, hesitating when his partner flinched away from his touch as if he’d been struck. “We’re going to the hospital. Alright? We’re going to get you checked out. Right now. Someone’s gotta take care of—”

“No. No hospitals. No doctors.”

Steve looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. 

“What?” Bucky raised his chin in defiance, daring him to disagree, to say anything. He stubbornly tried to project more confidence than he really felt as his traitorous body quivered. “This isn’t my first rodeo and you know it. Just leave it alone.”

“We’re not done talking about this! You’re not thinking straight. I’m— I’m calling T’challa,” Steve announced. “They need to figure out how the hell they got in!”

He strode towards the back of the hut were the communication beads were stored in a hurry. Then suddenly, he stopped, bumping his fist against the wall. It shook with the impact. “Goddamn it! I thought the Wakandan border was secure!” 

Bucky started laughing. He just couldn’t help it. It sounded hollow and wrong, an ugly cackle echoing in the small space. “Oh my god... Nothing’s ever fucking secure, Steve! Don’t you get it? Hydra’s everywhere! As long as they’re around I’ll never be fucking safe! Not anywhere—”

There was a commotion in front of the hut and they both froze. 

A woman’s voice called out to them, sounding vaguely familiar. “Ingcuka emhlophe!” White Wolf. “Ingcuka!”

Probably a parent. 

“Fuck!” Bucky exclaimed. 

Running his fingers through his tousled hair and clutching at his shredded clothes which were still soaked in blood, he seemed to notice his own state for the first time. His frantic eyes met Steve’s, like a deer in the headlights, filling with desperate tears. 

“Help me!” he whispered, low enough not to be overheard by anyone who wasn’t a super soldier. “Please...”

Re: Fill: The Quiet Game (5/?)

[(Anonymous)]

I'm continuing to love this so much