hydratrashmeme | Trash Party Dumpster #1

Trash Party Dumpster #1

(Will be continued in a Dumpster #2 post if by some unholy hell-miracle this post hits the 5000-comment limit.)

Filthy anon dumpster for sad hobos to fling moldy pizza crusts, raccoon eye makeup tips, and garbage about their sad trash kinks at each other.

AKA the Hydra Trash Party kinkmeme. One hundred percent Hydra Party Favor Bucky Barnes, Is It Sexy Violence Or Violent Sex?, and Bad Guys Do Bad Things To Your Faves: Winter Soldier Edition. BLANKET NON-CON/DUB-CON WARNING, not safe for work, not safe for life, not safe for anyone, read at your own risk ~~of becoming one of us~~.

Rules in brief: don't be a jerk except to fictional characters, warnings for particularly fucked-up garbage are nice but not required, thou shalt not judge the trashiness of thy neighbor's kinks unless thy neighbor is trying to pass off their rotting banana peels and half-eaten pizza crusts as a healthy romantic dinner for two, off-topic comments may be chucked out of the dumpster at management's discretion, management's discretion decrees that omegaverse, soulbond AUs, D/s-verse, non-superpowered AUs, etc. are off-topic.

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GO TO TOWN, TRASHBABIES.

Unholy hell-miracle achieved! Round 1 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 2.

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he expects that the first sensation will be the intrusion of a cock inside him

i'll go masturbate now...

Hydra tell him the friction helps equalize internal body temperature. Often they'll insert a thermometer alongside at intervals to check how much he's warmed up.

Later, when he finds out, Steve becomes fixated, asking Bucky for details, what he remembers, were they rough? Did they hurt you? Bucky thinks it's because Steve needs him to play dead for him too, his perception of how a partner derives pleasure being well and truely fucked at this point. But really, Steve is horrified because there is quite a bit of unnaccounted-for time when he himself was defrosting.

guh

One evening Steve decides to move things beyond gentle kissing. He run's his hand up under Bucky's shirt along his stomach, pets his hair and slips a thumb past his wet bottom lip. He can feel Bucky is getting into it, his erection ever so slightly swelling against Steve's thigh, panting and moving his mouth at his neck. A hot flush is moving down Steve's chest, and he's rubbing his leg up and up, a moan threatening to escape his throat. They've been moving toward this point for a while, their bodies gravitating to each other in the quiet moments between the rest of their complicated lives. It's as if this is where they were heading their whole long, sorry lives.

All of a sudden Bucky pulls back and stares at Steve with wide eyes. A switch of some kind flips and he calmly stands up and walks to the bathroom without saying a word....

Steve is at a loss. He feels like he's suffering whiplash just as they seem so in tune. It's like they've suddenly come up to a brick wall.

He contemplates following him through to the bathroom, offering his help, but then reconsiders. The doctors suggest he tread lightly. "Don't smother him. There might be some strange behaviour but as long as it's within normal parameters." After all, they've come a long way since Bucky barely looked at him, dully answering in monosyllables. For so long he was like empty shell of human....But that's swiftly moving behind them now, they're really making progress and Bucky seems more lively every day. Steve just needs to calm down and not make a big deal out of this.

In the end he walks to the kitchen and prepares a hot drink, then moves to his bedroom. He's just deciding what report to read when he sees a figure lying prone on the bed. Bucky has come directly from their adjoining ensuite. Startled, he takes in the naked figure, legs relaxed and slightly apart, eyes staring glassily up at the ceiling, not moving a muscle. He feels the blood rush back to his cock, the sensation momentarily overwhelming. Swallowing, he walks towards the bed.

Something seems off. He takes in the ever so slightly pallid tinge of Bucky's skin, his flaccid cock lying unmoving between his thighs.

"Hey buck, what's going on?" Steve says gently, reaching his hands out to Bucky's shoulder. He recoils at the clammy cold skin.

None of this make sense and something about it is all so wrong, wrong, wrong. His mind can't quite get to where its heading, some nebulous memory stirring in the not so recent past, just out of his reach. His stomach is churning in an unpleasant way, throat closing up.

Steve blinks and shakes himself out of the momentary reverie. He moves again to stir Bucky's limp shoulders. Holding his breath. As he waits for a response he doesn't really know what to expect, but he thinks he's ready to deal with whatever it is.

Eventually Bucky's eye's slide over to him and in a low flat voice he says "You need to fuck me soon Steve. Before I'm warm all the way through."

(a/n - the other version of this had bucky using some frozen goods to prepare himself, so you can be glad I'm only inflicting you with this. p.s. This is my first ever fic \o/. You can probably tell...)

Ooh, welcome to the dumpster! I love where this is going! (There will be more, yes? Or are you leaving the rest up to our dirty imaginations?)

Speaking of which, the thing with the frozen goods might be a prompt on its own, hnngh. ;)

(Oh dear, I'm really supposed to be writing something boring and academic, but this was so much fun. I hope you like it.)

For a split second Steve's mind can't process the words, it's like the off tune reverberation of a grandfather clock rattling through his ears. Something in him just wants to turn around and walk right back out the door, not trespass on this particular minefield.

But Steve's no coward. He's well aware by this point just what Hydra was. Is. The living embodiment is stretched out on his bed, naked as the day he was born. Those reports from hydra operatives about metabolic normalization techniques and active thermoregulation sickeningly lurch into stark relief. Steve realizes he's just staring like some yokel, Bucky looking up at him expectantly.

"Buck. I. Aren't you cold?"

Bucky says nothing for a few seconds, then "I don't understand. This is the how it goes from here. This is how I comply with operational parameters."

Steve's heart drops. He sits down on the edge of the bed, his shoulder slumped, erection flagging. "I think we're both confused. I don't really have much to compare this to, but I think we're both meant to, you know..." He makes a vague gesture, mortified at his own inability to articulate the words, ducking his head in shame.

Something at the corner of his perception draws his attention. Bucky's hand has moved down to stroke his own penis. His flesh grip firm and picking up speed. Water pools in Steve's mouth, a vision filling his mind. He sees himself stretching and twisting, his mouth and nose burying themselves in the dark thatch of hair between Bucky's legs, gently moving to lick the silky cold skin. His awareness catches up and he's back in the room with his ex-brainwashed assassin best friend and maybe lover.

Steve's not sure what he should do next. He opts to settle a reassuring hand on Bucky's thigh. The other man seems to take this as a sign to speed up. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” he chants in a quiet broken voice, “Next time I'll be still for you.” Tears are filling his eyes, and Steve can see he's straining to keep them open. His hand now a blur of movement. The muscles of Bucky's hips and thighs contract and Steve is almost surprised by the sudden splash of white over the swollen red head of the cock.

For a minute Bucky just lays there in obscene repose, an X-rated fantasy all for Steve. He pushes down that primal urge to rut against Bucky's leg, and instead slides a gentle hand up towards his chest, his fingers pressing into the soft give of the flesh.

There is sudden explosion of white hot pain in his wrist and before Steve has any idea what is happening the bones and tendons are forcefully snapped to an impossible angle. The metal hand tightens like a vice and Steve can't help but cry out in agony as a dead eyed, naked assassin uses super-human strength to efficiently tear his arm away from its scapula.

Uh-oh, can't wait for more!!

He thinks he might have been knocked out at some point. Perhaps 'conscious' isn’t quite the right word for what he is now. Wherever that is, it’s entirely devoid of light, his limbs restrained awkwardly in front of him by something thick and metal. It’s impossibly tight and he can’t even twist his good wrist an inch to get leverage. The small space is freezing cold and Steve begins to panic a little, sense memories stirring from the past. His shoulder and wrist are still shoved at unnatural angels and his heart beats a sickening pulse through them. He can't think about the damage that’s been done to his shoulder, that horrible wet sound as the tendons were pulled away from bone.

The air must be running out because his lungs strain to take in enough. He forcibly calms his breathing, calling on years of training to blank his mind. He needs time to think. Not sure how much longer he'll have before he's unconscious again and no idea if Bucky will come back to get him… Bucky, whose mind seems to have snapped.

He shakes that thought away, he's got far more urgent matters to deal with. Pushing his bare feet against the plastic wall, he tries to get leverage and lift his good shoulder up, but it's no use. He runs his fingers along the seams for any purchase. Nothing. It dawns on him that he's been undressed at some point. There's a shallow layer of sharp edged ice cubes at the bottom of the box. They were slippery, perhaps melted by his body heat, but now the temperatures gone down again the brittle sharp edges are digging into his ass. How long has he been here? He thinks it might be their freezer. The big commercial grade chest that Sam's mum gave them when she got a new one 6 months ago so she could save on her power bills.

He needs a plan. He knows he can hold his breath for 14 minutes all things being equal. He thinks back to after the Valkyrie had crashed. Then he had climbed down the ground and waited for his heart to slow, knowing he'd never wake again. It's not like that this time though, soon there’ll be no air and no one can survive that. He needs to get to Bucky, help with whatever the hell is going on in his head. The biting cold nags at the edges of his conscious mind. The cold. He can't stop thinking about it. He remembers a white room where he was barely awake, an IV drip standing off to the side as a dark figure loomed over him, undoing the fastenings of his pants. Peeling the barely thawed layers back to reveal a track of dusky hair leading down from his navel. The feeling of a hand moving lower. No. He bangs his head deliberately hard to get rid of the thought.

Time passes, he slows his breathing, reeling in the panic that threatens to bring him undone. His mind starts to float, a calmness of sorts washing over him. He thinks that’s the oxygen deprivation, but he’s not really sure at this point. He drifts.

-

Later there is light. He goes to open his eyes and realizes with a sickening lurch that his eyelids won’t respond. He doesn’t want to damage the delicate flesh by forcing it so he leaves them closed and tries to concentrate on something else. Almost hysterically it dawns on him that his entire body is numb. Frozen.

His ears are working ok though and a breathy ‘ngh’ is loud in the otherwise quiet space. He’s on his back and there is a vague sensation of his body being rocked by something. Pain is starting to bloom in patches, in his shoulder and wrist. His hips have been forced up and back, the stiff flesh tearing. He feels something ceaselessly pushing into his body, the intrusion strange and increasingly, he realizes, painful.

A Horrible puzzle comes together in his mind. He’s alive but someone is fucking him. There is unrelenting pressure at the tight cold space between his legs. His prick shoved aside and an object he can’t see brutally shoving at his hole again and again.

Oh no, what the hell is going on there?

The agony reaches a crescendo and then ebbs somewhat. He can sense his muscular control returning and he attempts to open his eyes again. The first thing he sees is a dark head moving in and out of his line of site. Bucky is rocking against him still, head bowed in concentration. The nerves in his ass start to fire and he can make out a hard length pushing incrementally in and out. It's still brutal, there's no lubricant and the abrasions will be agonizing, but Steve knows a thing or two about the limits of his body and he knows he's not past the point of no return.

Whether Bucky's mind is or not remains to be seen.

He thinks in another moment or two he'll be able to fully test his strength, but he doesn't want to spoil the advantage of surprise and let on to Bucky. He needs to take him down before he can do any more damage to his own mind. Or Steve.

Having pieced together some of those fragments of memory from his past Steve is beginning to understand how Hydra might of forced these same travesties on Bucky. How having that done to you over and over might splinter something off. A deformed sort of thing just trying to survive. Eventually you might twist it all around like a warped carnival mirror, and maybe all it would take is some trigger, something that you hadn't allowed yourself to feel in a long time.

Steve has an idea that tonight was the first time Bucky had been aroused in a long time. The two of them had certainly never been that far before. He wonders how many hours it's been since then, if even that. Time can stretch out in a crisis. He's adjusting to the pain a bit and regaining some semblance of clarity. A plan is starting to form in his mind.

He thinks in another moment he'll make his move. Bucky is still rocking on top of him. His cock pushing deeper with each thrust. Steve's flesh is softening, the adrenaline masking the pain of the injuries. He'll deal with his own trauma later.

Bucky has a grim set to his mouth, like he's taking no pleasure in what he's doing. Steve tries to understand, Bucky is a hard length inside him, but his metal thumb and fingers dig brutally into Steve's right hip, holding him firmly in place.

He can't let bucky incapacitate him again. If he goes back in that freezer it possible he won't come out. Surely Bucky doesn't know exactly how Steve's metabolic functions will react. He might guess but there's every chance that the man on top of him just doesn't care enough to take him out in time.

Without warning there is a glancing blow to the side of his head. Quick as a viper Bucky's metal arm had come up. “Don't move”. Seeing stars, Steve realises he must have squirmed minutely, testing his range of movement.

It's almost as if the violence has aroused Bucky further, animal need taking over. His breath is coming in quick, loud exhales as his movement speeds up. A moan escapes his throat and his hips piston unrelentingly. This might be his chance and Steve thinks about how he'll get a purchase on the other man's sweat slick skin. He dares to look and sees the Bucky is squeezing his eyes shut. Just as he's about to hook his leg around the other man's side and flip him over Bucky stills. Warmth pulses though him as he comes.

Steve feels like a wave has crashed over him. Bucky is doubled over and panting, his forehead pressed to Steve's bare chest. They both stay suspended in that moment, some delicate thing blooming among the charred remains of a battle. A beat later Bucky groggily croaks “Steve? Oh fuck. I'm sorry. Steve god”. It's almost sobs. He stiffens and makes as if to push himself off Steve. Steve can only think about how raw his ass feels, what might happen if Bucky pulls out too fast.

“Just, gimme a minute.” Steve's not letting Bucky out of his sight, but he needs a moment to catch up. He places a gentle hand on metal. He knows Bucky has sensation there and waits for the startled reaction. When it doesn't come he gently maneuvers his own knees back down to the bed. He can't even begin to take stock of all his injuries. By now Bucky's cock is slipping out, the slick of come helping.

After a beat Steve says “By the way, after all this is over you're running me a warm bath.”

(alright, so this was ridiculously fun to write, but sadly I did not manage work those frozen foodstuffs into it. If anyone else manages to, I'd be all over it like mould on spoiled rice.)

Definitely creepy enough without frozen goods!! Kudos to you!

I like your writing! I never would have guessed this was your first fic!

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