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voiceoffenrisulfr · 2 months

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Hail Hydra - Chapter Twelve

Bucky settles into his prolonged captivity until his creator is ready to return to him, and finds out exactly what it means to obey without question. Prompts fulfilled; - ‘Fell Asleep Crying’ - @multifandom-flash (Dozen); - 'Everything Comes With a Price' - Winter Wonderland Bingo (@seasonaldelightsbingo); - ‘The End… Or Is It?’ - Multifandom Flash (Beehive); - ‘Begging’, ‘Handcuffed’ and ‘Punching Bag’ – @fandom-free-bingo (Frosty Edition). CW: Restraint, forced obedience, physical punishment, sexual slavery/non-con, self-induced vomiting, disassociation following trauma.

Check it out below or on AO3 here. Boards at the bottom. Please heed the CWs and consume responsibly.

Banner by @mmadeinheavenn! Very apt. <3

The days passed slowly in my new prison.

It was far comfier than my previous quarters, and I could exist in the space without losing feeling in my extremities. I was fed more sufficiently for my increased metabolism, and my body began to gradually hide the sharp angles of my bones once more.

There was no more random torture or tests of endurance, no pushing my mortality until it bent or I broke.

But everything comes with a price.

I was forced into backbreaking manual labour, lugging machinery and anonymous crates, and frequently used as a punching bag for any perceived slight, whether real or imaginary – not working quickly enough, not carrying enough, or for simply seeming ill-manner or ingrateful for their ‘generous hospitality’. For this, my hand would be bound behind my back and secured to a chain in the floor, holding me fast and limiting my capacity to fight back.

Not that I had the willpower anymore anyway.

No. I simply took the blows and returned to work when they directed that I do so, completing my task even as welts rose on my bare skin. All I could hope for at this point was that they eventually grew tired of punishing me for arbitrary reasons, and that I could spend my time here flying under the radar as much as possible.

I lived in a vague hope that this may be feasible right up until I was summoned by Lebedev, around a month after our last interaction.

Fierce trembles wracked my body as I entered his office, skulking silently past the two guards stood either side of the doorway. I coulnd’t help ut recall what had happened to me the last time I had been in the Lieutenant’s presence – the hand in my hair that forced me to my knees, humiliation making it hard to breathe as I stayed rooted to the spot, even when his touch lifted from my head to secure the heavy metal around my thoat.

I could only pray his intentions this time were less dehumanising, but the flow in his steel eues left me with little hope, his gaze flicking to the collar still secured around my neck.

“Kneel.”

This time I obeyed without hesitation, wincing at the heavy collision of bone and concrete that echoed around the space in my haste. He smirked, nodding approvingly, and moved to stand behind me. “Hand behind your back, Asset.”

My hesitation was minute, but my wrist was grasped and wrenched back without warning, shoulder creaking in protest at the violent motion, and I let out a soft hiss of discomfort, eliciting an amused snort.

“If only you’d learn to obey orders immediately, you may not have found yourself back here.” His voice was quiet as he secured a cuff tightly around my wrist, rotating my collar to anchor the restraint before stepping back once more. I was helplessly trussed up, only able to peer up at him pitifully as he stared down at me with a grin. “As it is… I hear you’ve been making a nuisance of yourself. Failing to complete orders in your allotted time, or failing to complete them to a satisfactory level.” With a quiet tut, he moved to stand before me, still wearing a predator’s smile, his fingers catching in my hair once more. “I suppose I’ll have to oversee your training myself.”

A dry lump formed in my throat, terror gripping my muscles tight and setting up an intense shiver throughout my entire body at the thought of what may yet be ahead of me. He moved closer, and my stomach seized as he reached for his belt.

No. God, no. Not that. Anything but that.

“Now… show me how obedient you can be. Suck my cock.”

Bile rose in my throat, and I looked up, meeting his eyes as I shook my head. “No.”

His hand found my cheekbone, and I groaned as my skin split under the blow, feeling the bone crack under the force.

“I wasn’t asking. You’ll suck my cock, or I’ll find somewhere else to put it.”

“Please. Please, I-I can’t… I don’t want-”

His thumb found the break in my bone, and he pressed firmly, making me yelp and recoil automatically, but a hand in my hair held me fast as I squirmed. “Get it over with, Asset, or it’ll be worse for you.”

Fuck. Please. No. Not this. Anything but this…

Breathing softly around my clenched teeth, I diverted my gaze as I pulled him from his slacks, squeezing my lids shut as I took him in my mouth lightly. He was already half-hard, stimulated by my fear and my trembling hands.

It was warmer than I thought it would be, sliding easily over my tongue and making me wince when he brushed my tonsils, recoiling automatically.

His fingers wrapped harder in my hair as he thrusted roughly, tutting. “No, no… You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to be soft and gentle. You don’t deserve that. You deserve to choke on it,” he grunted, and I gagged briefly as he pushed against the back of my throat. “I hope you think about what happens when you disobey while I fuck that pretty mouth.”

Tears spilled from my clenched eyes as my dry lips split, and pain sparked in my cracked cheekbone. He let out a soft groan, and I wished I was anywhere else.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” I shook my head as best I could, fighting back a whimper as his length dragged over my tongue, and he hissed. “Oh, I bet you have… You’re trying not to, but I can feel you suckling at me. Desperate.”

No. That… That’s not true. I don’t want this. I hate this.

… Don’t I?

I know what I am, but…

But I don’t… want it. I don’t.

He grunted as his hips snapped up, my fingers curling instinctively where they rested against my back, and he chuckled roughly. “Oh, you like it like that, do you? You like it rough?” I shook my head again, but he flicked the bruising on my face firmly, hissing when my jaw clenched minutely through instinct. “Easy with the teeth, boy, or you won’t have any. Look at me.” Swallowing dryly, I forced my eyes open, locking with his and eliciting a quiet moan. “That’s it – see? You know how to obey orders… You watch me with those baby blues while you take it.” His hand fisted my hair tighter, holding my head still as he fucked me mercilessly, the feel of him grinding against my throat making my stomach turn. “That’s it, boy. Just like that.”

He released without warning, pushing himself deeper as I coughed and spluttered, his seed thick and choking, clinging to the inside of my throat. I tried to pull away but he simply snarled, forcing my head down, his eyes still locked on mine as they blew wide with pleasure and I was made to swallow.

Trembling and twitching, he eventually released me, leaving me to retch and gag, wishing more than anything I could be sick. He watched me in silence as he reassembled himself, letting out a quiet, horrifying chuckle as he undid the cuff restraining my wrist. “It’s not so bad. Now… Get out of here. I hope you have learnt your lesson.”

I stumbled to my feet obediently, shivering with shame and revulsion I entirely deserved. “Yes, Sir,” I muttered quietly, wrapping my arm about myself uncertainly.

“What do you say?”

I glanced back reluctantly, not quite meeting his gaze where he still stood buckling his belt, panting lightly.

“…Thank you, Sir.”

I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself.

He nodded once, offering me a truly ominous grin. “We’ll teach you to obey soon enough, Asset.”

I stumbled back to my room – my cell, just with a prettier dressing – without escort, blinded by tears and still coughing on the cloying taste of him. The door locked automatically as it slammed behind me, and I staggered into the bathroom instinctively, hoping against hope that the motion of leaning over the toilet would be enough to trick my body into sickness.

When it wasn’t, I resorted to reaching into my own throat, recalling the bile that rose in my oesophagus when he buried himself against my uvula, the churning of my stomach, the-

Oh, God…

It doesn’t taste any better coming back up.

The taste and texture of the regurgitated seed was enough to encourage my stomach to continue emptying until I was retching fruitlessly, drool hanging from my lip and driving further dry-heaves until I managed to spit it away, trembling weakly. My body ached, throat and nose burning from stomach acid – but more than anything else, my heart was breaking, shattering under the force and dehumanisation of the assault.

That was the first time I was with another man.

That will always be the first time I was ever with another man.

Fear made my muscles contract automatically at the idea that this may not be the first of my firsts that he stole from me, and I whimpered under my breath as I headed to the shower, the break in my cheek aching from the force of my vomiting.

By the time I crawled into bed, my muscles tender and my head pounding, my mind had lapsed into numb silence. I still shook with unconscious disbelief and fear, but I couldn’t form a single coherent thought, too stunned and broken to be anything but empty. Tears still fell silently down my cheeks as I stared distantly at the wall, the sheets gathered around me, my emotional void allowing the exhaustion to take over my body.

This is it now, isn’t it?

This is the rest of my life.

This is what I am now.

He was right.

Bucky Barnes is dead.

I’m just… An Asset. A slave.

I’m only darkness.

#mine #fanfiction #fandom: marvel #writers on tumblr #writing bingo #rating: e #hail hydra #hydra trash party #Whump #cw: noncon #cw: violence #fandom free bingo: frosty edition #fandom free bingo #Character: Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes #multifandom flash bingo #seasonal delights bingo #winter wonderland bingo

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amarriageoftrueminds · 2 years

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I think it was your meta about mrvl/rat studio accidentally writing steve as gay but after reading that I just can't see him as a bi anymore and it makes me kinda UHH when I read about his relationship with women (especially if fic goes into details about their straight sex 🤢) ESPECIALLY if steve has this whole speech about how his relationship with pggy weren't fake and she wasn't a beard and he really loved her and it was important

I understand that my headcanons are my headcanons and I got no right to tell people how to write their fics but sometimes I wish authors would put a content warning before such scenes so you could just skip

(omg sorry for that vent)

(in ref to this preposterously typically long meta on why I cannot read Steve as bi/any kind of women-attracted orientation)

Oh god yeah no apology necessary Non, I feel completely the same way!

It’s almost become like a jumpscare thing (happened to me literally earlier on today!) where I’ll be deep in the middle of a lovely stucky fic when suddenly- boom -praise of his interactions with Pggy, ascribing achievements/qualities to her and their interactions which simply were not in the film.

(Eg. in the fic I was unpleasantly surprised by today, he credited her with making him to want to be a better man, when... there simply is no scene where even he does what she says?

In the comics, the woman who actually created his moral compass was his single mother, not her, and in the film, the person who both reminded and motivated him to be a good man - not a perfect soldier - was Erskine.

Whereas he spent every single interaction either ignoring or flat-out contradicting Pggy’s suggestions in both word and deed.)

The other horrible and OOC aspect is when Bucky, in a Stucky-fic context, is basically told to his face by Steve that he either was or was contemplating cheating on him (physically, emotionally, or both) while Bucky was away at war, fighting for his life.

And Bucky is just... fine, with him saying this??

(But, in the actual movie, you can see he is very visibly not fine with this, even though Steve’s actions give him nothing to be worried about; since she comes onto him in front of Bucky, he allows Bucky to come onto her, without seeming at all perturbed about it, and then, despite her unsubtle and entitled pass-making... he stays with Bucky, even in death.)

And, of course, they never, ever mention her shooting at Steve or hiring Zola.

(Post-WS Bucky never, ever mentions this either, or shows any sign of having a problem with somebody praising his torturer’s employer??)

There’s this palpable, nervous aura of ‘I know I’m only allowed to pair this man off with another man in a fic if I go out of my way to mention how he is still also attracted to women/that one woman and mention how great she was, okay!!’ even when doing so makes Steve looks like an adulterer. As if Steve being gay would be offensive to women readers, somehow?

The period when that treatment of him/her was all you could ever find in fics, it’s- it’s like everyone took crazy pills...

ps. anywho, if you’re looking for a refreshing change from this lamentable state of affairs, may I recommend... my #pggy-free-figs tag?

#only a few recs in there but it's all good!#antipeggy #antisteggy #p*ggy meta #mcu meta #steve meta #mcu critical #steggy is hydra trash party #meta #mcu #fic meta #btw I am DELIGHTED that anybody actually read that thing cuz it's a BEAST #and I haven't edited it in ages so.... might be time for yet another tweak #yet each man queues the thing he loves #cynthia glass

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stuckyfingers · 3 months

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(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 ♥

Last updated: (03/09/2024)

ⓐⓡⓣⓦⓞⓡⓚ

Who The Hell Is Bucky?

Steve as Marilyn Monroe

Stucky Wedding

Steve doesn't know what 'Railing someone' means

UWU Buckyyy

Stucky Pencil Sketch

Skyfall (kiss)

Happy Birthday, Bucky! (Erotica)

the hobbies of Bucky Barnes 👀

Poitrait of Steve

Nomad Steve in Eyeliner

My Pal, My Buddy, My Bucky

Stucky Renaissance Painting

Bucky Tracing Steve's Freckles

Steve in an American Flag Bikini

Wanna ride Steve('s sleigh)? (Christmas erotica)

Trans!Steve

Sad post it Stucky (with alpine)

Bucky and Steve play wrestling

Unsolicited fic pic- lavenderpanic

EDITS: Bucky's metal arm sound

HYDRA Trash Party:

Unsolicited fic pic- Hydra Fuck Toy, part 2

Crouching Venus- Bucky

Longing- Bucky screaming for Steve

Bucky screaming part 2

Open Up, Soldier

Ya Gotov Otvechat

One Man's Trash Party (babygirl drawing prompt)

Bleeding Soldier (poll result)

ⓕⓐⓝⓕⓘⓒⓣⓘⓞⓝ

AO3 Pull Up The Ladder When The Flood Comes

Tumblr fics:

London, 1944 (Stucky PWP)

Rogers Hood

First Kiss

Stucky Pirate AU (exposition)

2012 Steve- Bucky's Still Alive (extension idea)

Fic Recs

#stucky #inspo #steve rogers #bucky barnes #winter soldier #favorite posts #art #masterlist

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mournthebird · 23 days

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The Brand

Warnings: Hydra Trash Party, dehumanization, mentions of physical and psychological abuse, mentions of sexual assault and torture, body modification, medical descriptions, non-consensual surgical procedure, non-sexual nudity, conscious body mutilation, branding. Do not read if these make you uncomfortable.

a/n: Yay first writing post. I wrote this a few weeks ago in time to celebrate the 10 year HTP celebration but my work got busy and I couldn't finish it in time. It might seem rushed at the end and isn't the typical writing style I go with, but I wanted to try something new.

I have a lot of ideas for HTP, they won't be written in such a narrative way, they'll be more involved and not seem so empty when you read it. I wanted to practice this style of writing to get back into it. My future works will be more gritty I promise lol.

Not edited because I am impatient.

WC: 4618

If there was one thing that defined Hydra, it was their insatiable need to flaunt, to ostentatiously display their dominion over all they claimed. The agents of Hydra took a perverse pride in their control and indecorous displays of power, viewing them as a testament to their might and dominance. At the pinnacle of their assets stood the Winter Soldier, the first and arguably most potent weapon in Hydra's formidable arsenal. He was their most prized asset and possession, their most favorite plaything.

To Hydra, the Winter Soldier was nothing more than a weapon, an object to be wielded with ruthless efficiency. Or on certain occasions, he was seen as a toy, something to be played with by his handlers, depending on the day and the specific handler's whims. His existence was one of unending servitude, of being used and abused by what seemed to be a never ending pool of agents. There were times when Soldat liked to convince himself that he had grown accustomed to the pain, to the torment that was his existence. He liked to believe that he had seen everything, that there was no form of cruelty that could surprise him anymore. The agents of Hydra were nothing if not creative in their methods of torture, to put it mildly.

Yet, as each day passed, each time he was awakened from the frigid embrace of cryostasis, he was starkly reminded of how wrong he was. Each new day he was graciously kept out of cryostasis brought with it fresh horrors, fresh cruelties that served to shatter his illusions of desensitization. His life was a grim reminder of the depths to which humanity could sink in its quest for power and control.

He remembers more than what they would like, despite how many times they ‘put his brain in a blender’ as Rumlow would say. Shards of his past that were shattered into an intricate puzzle; the scattered pieces were handed back to him in a cruel game where they never quite fit together. Much of what he is able to recall stems from his intense, grueling conditioning at Hydra or the earliest, most brutal of his tortures. He has vivid recollections of the cold, unfeeling metal table and the burn of harsh straps binding him to it. His memory of those moments is hazy, his sight blurred by the glaring white light looming above, piercing his eyes and blinding him. Vague memories of the sun flashed in his mind, the wet streets of New York and himself as a child running through puddles as the sun shone down on him and provided warmth after the downpour.

At that time, he still possessed a significant portion of his left arm, the remaining limb extending just above his elbow. But the people who held him captive, the people who sought to manipulate and control him, they couldn't allow him to retain that, could they? It simply wouldn't work, wouldn't align with the function of the arm that Zola had painstakingly and so preciously created.

Zola wasn’t the one to amputate the rest of it. The faces of the medical personnel were indistinct to him - were they doctors, or were they scientists? Did the specific roles they played truly matter at this moment? It was a question he didn’t find himself pondering for long.

He remembered tensing as he heard the sickening sound of his muscle being ruined by the small, handheld rotary drill as it raked through his flesh, the wielder running it up and down his arm as if he were cutting through dough. At first, the sensation of his flesh being ripped away so viciously didn’t register in his brain, but his eyes glanced down at his arm, and saw they were taking it in segmented pieces. Seeing it seemed to get his brain to work faster now. The hot vibrations from the bone saw sliding so effortlessly through his exposed humorous nearly made him want to vomit. His wide, icy eyes were glued to the tool despite how badly he wanted to tear his sight away, the inch long piece of raw bone fell off, hitting the metal table with a small *clink* sound. A cloud of pure dread flooded his already struggling mind as he realized what they were doing. Instead of a simple amputation surgery, they were taking their sweet time, ensuring he felt every bit of it in a cruel introduction.

They only took away an inch of flesh and bone.

His anguished cries for mercy were coldly ignored, and the indifferent medical team didn't care that he was fully conscious during the gruesome procedure. Even now, years later, with his state-of-the-art prosthetic arm replacing the one he'd lost, he is haunted by phantom pains that serve as all too vivid reminders of that fateful day. The biting chill of the snow on his raw, open wound is something he can still recall with unsettling clarity, as are the sensations of the invasive surgical tools mercilessly working against him as he writhed in futile resistance against the unbending straps that held him firmly in place. In the quiet moments of solitude, he often has to take a moment to gather his thoughts, to refocus his mind, and remind himself that the gruesome ordeal is long past and that his own flesh and blood arm has been replaced with a sophisticated, very expensive piece of high-tech metal. Yet, the past refuses to be so easily discarded. His mind, an intriguing labyrinth of denied emotions and memories, continues to replay the ordeal, showcasing the fascinating, yet at times cruel, capacity of the human brain.

Unfortunately for Sergeant Barnes, that was all just the beginning of a seventy year long nightmare. His first session inside the seemingly ominous cryo chamber was a jarring experience that he hadn't expected. All he can remember is the sudden, abrupt sensation of being hurled into a sizable, and he's not too proud to admit, an intimidatingly scary device. He would soon learn it was a merciful gesture to be frozen, over the years wishing for it rather than being kept out for them to play with.

This chamber made of metal and steel only had a minuscule, circular window that seemed to serve as his only connection to the world he was leaving behind. Before he could even allow himself to succumb to the primal instinct of panic, the very air around him seemed to solidify. It was as if the invisible molecules of oxygen were suddenly turned to ice, encasing him in a frosty cocoon. He couldn’t even process his initial shock before he began to feel the icy tendrils of cold seeping into his body, freezing him from the inside out. He had mere seconds, fractions of timeless moments, to register the chill before his senses were overwhelmed and everything around him plunged into an abyss of pitch-black nothingness.

The tales of his time spent within the sinister depths of Hydra would surely elicit a shiver of sympathy from the devil himself - such was the magnitude of his torment. Every excruciating moment, every instance of his suffering was meticulously documented by his pitiless handler in that dreaded, damned red book. This was a book that he grew to loathe, a constant, tangible reminder of his puppet-like existence. It contained detailed instructions on how to manipulate him, how to control each string tethered to his spirit and body, turning him into a marionette dancing to their dark symphony. Every mission he was sent on, every dangerous venture he had accomplished was recorded in it. This included even the less polished operations from the early days of his career, when he was still learning the ropes and the art of subtlety.

His few failures, those moments of human error, were written in a cruelly conspicuous red ink. This was a color that symbolized his pain, his struggle, and his sacrifice, forced to pen down these failures himself. He would sit on the cold, hard floor of his bleak holding cell, his hand shaking as he held the inkless pen. This pen would then be dabbed into his body and would stain the pages of the book with dark, inky crimson, watched all the while by his unflinching handler.

He quickly understood that he was not valued as a human being, but was seen as nothing more than a tool for amusement, a commodity to be used and discarded, an object of entertainment for those who controlled him. His training, harsh and unyielding, began abruptly and without mercy, and with each passing day, he was forced to hone his abilities, to transform himself into a more efficient, more deadly assassin. He was taught the art of strict discipline, and the punishing consequences that followed if he failed to meet their exacting standards. Physical torment became a part of his existence, a brutal routine that he had to become accustomed to, but that didn't mean he was immune to the pain. Each strike, each wound was a stark reminder of his position. Hydra taught order through pain after all, and pain was nearly second nature to him by now.

But arguably, what was even more devastating was the mental torture he was subjected to. The psychological torment, the manipulation, the systematic breaking down of his spirit was a pain that transcended the physical. No amount of bodily harm could ever compare to the anguish of having his mind, his very sense of self, twisted and reshaped to suit their needs and desires.

He was slowly, painstakingly being reconstructed with fragments and shards that belonged to someone else, not him. As if the core of his very existence was being invaded, they were diligently, ruthlessly weaving pieces of brutality into the tapestry of his soul, fundamentally altering his essence. He was no longer the man known as Bucky, no longer James Buchanan Barnes, a name that once held so much significance. Hell, he couldn’t even recall his own name anymore, only the harsh, unkind labels they assigned him. ‘Soldat’...mostly. But there were other names, too, cruel and derogatory terms that were as far from his true identity as could be. His sense of self, his identity, who he was at his core, had been brutally stripped away, leaving him nothing more than a hollow shell of the man he had once been.

Over the years, he had found himself under the supervision of many handlers, the names and faces of most he could no longer remember. The current handler in charge of him was Alexander Pierce, who had remained his handler for the longest duration of time compared to the others. Pierce was the kingpin, the mastermind, the one who held all the reins, the dominant head of the Hydra. There were instances when Soldat was temporarily handled by either Rumlow or Rollins, but these periods never lasted too long. Despite his brutish demeanor and cutthroat attitude, Pierce was incredibly possessive of Soldat, almost obsessively so. He didn’t appreciate it when others caused harm to his possessions, like that mattered. And that was exactly what Soldat was to him, a mere possession, an object to be owned and controlled.

Pierce did not view him as a person capable of experiencing feelings and emotions. In his eyes, Soldat was just a thing, devoid of any humanity. Soldat was at his mercy, a mere puppet under his control. He could dictate Soldat's every move, treat him however he pleased, and the asset wouldn’t dare to retaliate. There were fleeting moments, few and far between, seemingly minor delays where the asset would show a hint of defiance, a subtle insubordination that manifested itself in the way he might take an extra second or two before following an order. These moments of resistance, however slight, were met with brutal and harsh punishment, administered by the man who had been assigned to handle him. Pierce was notorious for his severe punishments. Rumlow, too, was cruel in his own right. He took perverse pleasure in blending physical and psychological torture, pushing the boundaries of what the asset could endure. But Pierce...the mere mention of his name by another agent in the presence of the asset, especially during those rare moments when the asset dared to be rebellious, would strip him down to nothing but a small, quivering ball, a mass of fear and anticipation as he awaited for his true handler to lay his harsh, punishing hand.

Pierce liked to think of himself as the asset’s owner, not even just a handler. He liked playing mind games with him, ensuring his submission. He was a master of deception, delivering his taunts and insults with a veneer of charm and affability that belied his true intentions. He had a unique way with words, much like a bee that knows how to produce honey while also being capable of a deadly sting. He liked to create an aura of comfort and ease around the asset, luring it into a false sense of security. Just when the asset would start to relax and let his guard down, Pierce would shatter this illusion of safety. A backhanded strike would come out of nowhere, causing his head to jerk from the unnecessary force. Or he would give a sudden, painful tug to the asset’s chocolate locks, locking his fingers into the asset’s hair and yanking him around as if he were trying to pull his hair out.

These acts of cruelty were always accompanied by seemingly gentle words, and perhaps a caress to his head, creating a confusing and distressing dichotomy that further brought on emotional and mental confusion to the asset. Over time, the asset learned to be wary of Pierce's words, no matter how sweet they seemed on the surface. Kindness was always a precursor to cruelty, and trust became a luxury he could no longer afford. The asset began to anticipate the worst at all times, and unfortunately, this pessimistic expectation was almost always met.

Soldat found himself yearning for the majority of his day to be spent in the confines of the small, austere cell in which he was held captive. This was his preferred solace when he was not being subjected to the whims of numerous Hydra agents who took turns with him; their demands were a source of deep loathing for him. The task of satisfying such a multitude of people was not only mentally draining but also physically excruciating. Despite his body having been enhanced by the serum, it was painfully evident that he was not designed for the purposes for which they were exploiting him. No one would be. He could feel everything at an amplified level, and the agents cared not how he felt during the assaults. Sadistic and barbaric in their violent rutting, the asset was often left motionless in his cell, his breathing jagged and quick before dying down to the deep breaths of plagued sleep.

The discomfort was inescapable: he found it impossible to sit properly due to the chronic pain from his backside, not only the constant throbbing and burning in his anus, but the welts and wounds scattered along his thighs and ass. He was forced to lean at an angle on one side of his backside instead of sitting upright in a normal manner. This odd positioning offered some degree of relief, but not much. His cell was void of any comforting amenities or distractions - it was a cage after all, not a home.

The walls of his cell, a stark combination of cement and metal, were expertly crafted to withstand the immense strength he possessed. This meant that even when he wasn't restrained in chains in the corner of the room, his attempts to break free would prove futile. The stone floors were unexpectedly damp, a surprising observation considering that the cell was completely buried underground, devoid of any direct exposure to the elements. He thought there might be a hidden leak somewhere, a fissure in the stone that allowed the intrusion of water. The thought of snow stirred a melancholic feeling within him. It had been an eternity since he had experienced the outdoor world, the simple pleasure of feeling the crisp winter air against his skin, the sight of pristine, untouched snowfall, or the peaceful silence that came with it. His memories of these sensations were fading, blurred by the harsh passage of time. He was trapped in an endless cycle of monotonous days and nights, to the point where he couldn’t even remember just how long it had been since his last glimpse of the outside world.

His train of thought was abruptly disrupted as the hefty, imposing door started to creak ominously open. The harsh sound of metal scraping against the cold concrete floor echoed throughout the room, sending an eerie screech that sent chills down his spine and made him suppress a shiver. Agent Rumlow stood imposingly in the doorway. Looming ominously behind him was a group of other guards, each of them armed with an assortment of menacing weapons. Among these were electric prods that he had grown to despise. The guards had a tendency to press them against his skin for prolonged periods, the sharp, unpleasant sensation something he could never get used to.

He wasn’t an animal. Right?

Rumlow began to speak, his voice carrying a smug undertone that was all too familiar to Soldat. It was a tone that grated on his nerves, driving him to the brink of madness. He found himself despising the self-assured, arrogant way Rumlow spoke, as if he was perched high on a throne that was untouchable, immune to any form of downfall.

"Rise and shine, we have a unique surprise prepared just for you today," Rumlow declared, sauntering over with a gait that oozed the arrogant confidence he always fronted. His steps were strong and assured, resonating a kind of authority that was hard to ignore. Soldat barely had time to process the situation before he felt the cold presence of the guards clustering around him. Almost mechanically, they secured a thick, intimidating metal collar around his neck and arms. They had done this many times, and were experts at securing them before the asset had time to react.

Tiny rings punctuated the cold metal, attached to long, unwieldy bars. It was an apparatus designed for control, allowing them to maintain a safe distance from him while forcibly guiding him to move according to their whims and direction. The sudden and rough manhandling sparked a primal instinct within Soldat. He began to struggle against his captors, his body twisting and turning, writhing in the unforgiving grip of the bindings.

"Alright, that's enough. You should realize by now that struggling gets you nowhere," Rumlow sternly declared. He then turned on his heels, initiating their journey through the winding, oppressively dark corridors of the clandestine underground base. The team had forcefully guided him along, feeling the solid resistance he put up against his restraints. Despite his efforts, his legs continued to move forward in a mechanical fashion, carrying him onward to an unknown fate. The asset was exhibiting more resistance than usual, a defiance that was palpable in the tension of his body. Yet, Rumlow didn't pay any mind to this show of rebellion. He was well aware that after this ordeal, the asset would inevitably become much more compliant and manageable, stripped of his will to resist.

As Soldat was roughly manipulated through the threshold and into the new room, he wasn’t surprised that it held no distinct visual difference from the rest. The room was devoid of any unique color or material that would make it stand out from the other rooms he had already seen. The walls were the same drab shade, the floor was made of the same cold stone, and the air smelled just as musty. The only detail that caught Soldat's attention was Pierce, who was standing by a small, yet fully functioning smith’s furnace.

Pierce's back was turned to them, his arms crossed over his chest in a display of casual authority. He was engrossed in his observation of the red hot coals in the furnace, appearing to be in deep thought. The coals glowed with a mesmerizing intensity, casting flickering shadows that danced across the room. Tiny embers floated gently through the air, creating a surreal, fiery snowfall whenever Pierce moved around a long iron pole that was submerged in the heat. The pole, silver and gleaming, was halfway buried in the crackling coals, absorbing the heat that radiated from them.

Before the asset could even begin to comprehend the situation, he was forcibly stripped of his clothing, manhandled and roughly shoved against a harsh, unforgiving metal wall. His arms were yanked above his head with such force that it caused a painful strain on his muscles, particularly on the side where his cold, mechanical arm was attached. The pull of the metal limb was relentless, tugging insistently at the already stressed muscles of his back. They then made sure his ankles were securely bound, making it impossible for him to twist or turn his body, effectively rendering him helpless and restrained. His cheek was pressed firmly against the icy cold silver of the wall, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his flushed skin. His eyes, wide with confusion, darted around as he tried to make sense of his predicament, his brows knitted together in a deep furrow.

He was at a loss. He didn’t understand what they were doing to him. Could this be a part of his training? He had been subjected to just about everything, becoming accustomed to various forms of physical and mental torture. But this…he had no clue what this was. He was beginning to feel an inner battle, his brain suddenly felt too loud. He wasn’t used to hearing so many thoughts, the repetitive wiping and cryostasis ensured he was emotionless and focused on a single mission or task. He must be due for another brainwashing session.

Pierce appeared to be lost in a sea of deep thought. The weight of their impending plan lay heavy on his shoulders, a battle between rising to rule or plummeting into the unforgiving abyss of defeat was fast approaching. It was Hydra's chance to shine, to finally establish their supremacy. He seemed to be carefully considering the possible scenarios, weighing each outcome against the other. Although he held a firm belief in their imminent success, he was starkly aware of the risks involved. If they faltered, if they failed, there was a very real possibility they’d lose their most valuable asset. This was not a prospect he relished. As much as it irritated him, he wanted to ensure his legacy, a lasting mark of his leadership on Hydra and ownership of the soldier who became the fist.

In a moment of introspection, he reached out, stirring the metal rod amongst the glowing coals. He observed silently, captivated by the mesmerizing dance of the embers as they burst from the coals and elegantly floated down to the floor. They disappeared just as quickly as they appeared, leaving behind nothing but their fleeting beauty and the whispering echo of their sizzle, a stark reminder of the transient nature of power and control.

In one swift, deliberate motion, he pulled the rod from the smoldering coals, the tip of it glowing yellow, a color that faded gradually into a vibrant orange as it traced down the length of the shaft. Pierce turned around slowly, his dark suit miraculously untouched despite him being in such close proximity to the blazing heat of the furnace.

With measured and unhurried strides, he walked over to the asset, his predatory gaze observing the man's body with a level of intensity that was almost wolfish. His countenance, however, remained stern and unyielding, betraying no hint of emotion. Pierce was good at that. He held out the rod towards the asset, the end that burned the hottest bearing the symbol that the asset served - the emblem of Hydra. Fear caught in the asset’s eyes before he could hide it, he found himself doubting whether they were really going to go through with this.

But was that such a thing here? This place, this Hell on earth.

It wasn’t like he had time to react before he felt white-hot pain erupt from his lower back, right above the left side of his ass. The pain was excruciating, and he bit his tongue trying to hold in any sort of discomfort…but it was pointless. No amount of struggle could hold back the scream that left his scratchy throat. The rod melted his flesh and scorched his poor nerves, he could feel it in the tips of his toes, and he swore his metal arm felt hot. This was almost as bad as being wiped in that torturous chair, but at least after a few long seconds even that seemed to fade with his mind melding against his trigger words.

This was different, it got worse as the seconds dragged on, and Pierce didn’t seem like he was going to pull it off anytime soon. He held the rod taut, pressing firmly into the asset’s scarred skin, not like the asset could struggle much with his restraints anyway. With a calculated mind and a discerning eye, he strategically found a spot that was devoid of many scars. He wanted the emblem to stand out, to show without any competition from the numerous other marks that littered the asset’s body. It would shine out prominently against the skin, the deep, bold mark of it. This emblem wasn't just any ordinary mark - it was a sign of ownership, a declaration of dominance. The thought of it, the sheer power it represented, brought Pierce an overwhelming rush of sadistic satisfaction.

When he finally pulled the rod away, it had all but cooled completely, so parts of the asset’s skin were ripped away. The cauterized wound reopened as the metal was torn off roughly, Pierce let out a small grunt from the gesture. He carelessly tossed the pole back into the furnace, now not caring for it. The asset could smell the remains of his flesh burning in the furnace, it made him sick. The asset felt genuine fear, even after the deed was done, he couldn’t see it but the feeling was so agonizing he didn’t want to look at his new branding.

In an agonizingly slow pace, he was methodically detached from the wall by the nameless, faceless agents. As the restraints were removed, his body gave way, too weak to support his own weight. He crumbled to the floor, his body convulsing and shaking as if he were in shock, a reaction to the branding he had been subjected to. Unlike before, the agents didn’t bother with the formalities of restraining him to move him in the same manner. There were no thick, oppressive collars or tight bindings this time. Instead, they carelessly slung his limp arms around their shoulders, and he was unceremoniously dragged out, back to the cold, harsh reality of his cell.

He must’ve been deemed harmless by now, a muzzled, drugged dog without the will to fight. His mind was clouded, foggy with pain and fear by the time he was tossed back into his holding cell, discarded like a worthless ragdoll they had grown tired of. The asset felt his fear of Pierce, the orchestrator of his torment, multiply tenfold. During that horrific branding, the barbaric and dehumanizing torture, he remained as even as stone…Pierce didn’t utter a single word.

He didn’t have to.

..........

Thanks for reading.

-🕊

#my writing #hydra trash party #winter soldier #bucky barnes #bucky barnes whump #winter soldier whump #brock rumlow #dead dove fic #darkfic

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ex0rin · 1 year

Text

@febuwhump End Notes/ Masterlist

So... this was my second year and, hell, guess who did it again??

28 days, 28 prompts, and slightly less words than last year but STILL somehow over 45k but the thing is... last year I hated my job, was on the verge of quitting AND was going out of my way to ignore it but not this time. This year I have a job that I LOVE and have taken on a bazillion additional responsibilities. I threw a party and did a speech for ONE THOUSAND people in the middle of the month, like WHAT? How did I still hit 45k??

I'm gonna tell you, so uh, sorry in advance if this gets lengthy - it's time for the yearly awards speech (you can see the last one here) 😅

Super mega shout-out to @5ummit and @sparklingbinjuice who built on every single prompt each day to give me something to run with, who sprinted with me pretty much daily, who fed me encouragement and fucking poked and prodded at me until I forced out some words when I was having hard nights trying to manage fandom and life and work. AGAIN, Wendy, your goddamn gorgeous galaxy brain saved me (and Abby, the smutty RP helped too 😏)

I also want to say thanks to AO3/ tumblr users: trinipedia (AO3) @winterbonesthings @justalostsoldier @possumwoodpie and @astralhux who basically commented on every single thing I wrote all month - you're all insane for that and I love you very much. AND everyone else who commented or kudos'd, even on only one, you made it easier for me to keep going and I appreciate it so goddamn much.

And just like, generally, to everyone: thanks for not unfollowing me while I was just posting text posts all month 😅

20/28 ended up being smut and I'm pretty pleased with that. Let's try for 28/28 next year 😘

Okay. OKAY. FEBUWHUMP 2023: HTP EDITION (or should I say winterbones edition 😅)

Day 1: Touchstarved (NSFW) Bucky/Rumlow, winterbones - 1410 words

NON-CON/RAPE, touchstarved, chains, choke collar, finger sucking, imprisonment, captivity, blow jobs, spitting in mouth, deepthroating, conditioning, hydratrashparty

Day 2: Flinching (NSFW) Steve/Bucky, stucky - 575 words

past non-con/rape, past abuse, whump, bucky’s broken dick, unsatisfying sex, this is not nice to anyone

Day 3: Muzzled (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky, winterbones - 2150 words

NON-CON/RAPE, gags, gag mask, blood and injury, anal sex, no lube, handjobs, finger sucking, hydra trash party

Day 4: Knife to the throat Steve/Bucky (implied) - 240 words

past abuse, panic, mild violence

Day 5: "That's gonna scar" Rumlow & the soldier - 300 words

blood, knife wound, stitches

Day 6: Secrets Revealed (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky, Steve/Bucky (implied) - 2200 words

NON-CON/RAPE, past non-con/rape, rape on film, Bucky’s broken dick, anal sex, choking, spitting in mouth, begging, crying, Steve whump, coming on command, coming untouched, pet names, hydra trash party

Day 7: Made to Watch (NSFW) Hydra Agents/Bucky, Rumlow/Bucky, winterbones - 1040 words Second part coming on Day 10: difficulty breathing

NON-CON/RAPE, prostitution, filmed without consent, jealousy, possessiveness, anal sex, hydra trash party

Day 8: Panic (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky, winterbones - 1300 words

NON-CON/RAPE, anal sex, coming early, panic, punishment, come eating

Day 9: Voice Loss (NSFW) Rollins/Bucky, Rumlow/Bucky (implied) - 1450

NON-CON/RAPE, wet and messy, blowjobs, deepthroating, pain, ripped vocal chords, loss of voice, pet names, panic, hydra trash party

Day 10: Difficulty Breathing (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky, winterbones - 2045 words Second half to Day 7: forced to watch

NON-CON/RAPE, jealousy, anger, anal fingering, rough sex, conditioning, confusion, name calling, begging, choking, smothering, anal sex, kissing, hydra trash party

Day 11: Fever Rumlow/Bucky, Rollins - 1100 words

fever, body heat, light grinding

Day 12: "Can you hear me?" (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky (very implied) - 810 words

stream of consciousness, dethawing process, confusion, finger sucking (light)

Day 13: Forced to hurt a loved one Steve/Bucky, Rumlow/Bucky (past, implied) - 1590

past non-con/rape, past abuse, trauma, safe words, violence, choking, crying, begging

Day 14: Captivity (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky (implied) - 1155 words Second chapter on Day19: “You deserve this.”

past non-con/rape, past abuse, abuse, trauma, bad decisions, hydra trash party (incoming)

Day 15: ALT: Found Footage (NSFW) Steve/Bucky, Rumlow/Bucky (past) - 1815 words

past non-con/rape, past abuse, bucky’s broken dick, rape on film, masturbation, begging, guilt, blowjobs, deepthroating, betrayal, pet names, hydra trash party

Day 16: Semiconscious (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky - 1610 words a continuation of Day12: Can you hear me?

non-con/rape, wet and messy, finger sucking, anal fingering, anal sex, disorientation, confusion, semi-conscious, possessiveness, hydra trash party

Day 17: Silent Tears (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky (past), Steve/Bucky (implied) - 1310 words

past non-con/rape, past abuse, betrayal, crying, rape on film, masturbation, anal fingering, finger sucking, no lube, trauma, voyeurism, whump, hydra trash party

Day 18: Can't Stay Awake (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky - 2180 words

incredibly dubious consent, the soldier can’t consent, panic, panic attacks, anal sex, no lube, handjobs, the world’s most fucked up safety blanket

Day 19: "You deserve this" (NSFW) Hydra Agent/Bucky, Rumlow/Bucky - 3690 words

non-con/rape, improper use of a shock baton, dirty talk, anal sex, dehumanization, shame, guilt, anger, ~feelings~, jerking off, hydra trash party,

Day 20: Knife Wound (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky, Rollins - 800 words

past non-con/rape, past-knifeplay, abuse, gaslighting, Rumlow is not a good person, Rollins is a sadist, blood, violence, hydra trash party

Day 21: Shackled (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky - 1110 words

non-con/rape, spider gag, prong collar, anal hook, overstimulation, wet & messy, bad bdsm practices, handjob, hydra trash party

Day 22: Can’t Scream (NSFW) Hydra Agents/Bucky - 630 words

non-con/rape, inappropriate use of a shock stick, anal sex, double penetration, violence, abuse, hydra trash party

Day 23: “You’ll have to go through me” (NSFW) Steve/Bucky, Rumlow/Bucky - 3065 words

past non-con/rape, past abuse, shower masturbation, betrayal, violence, whump

Day 24: Bloody Clothes (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky - 2240 words

holy fuck this is so soft, weirdly consensual winterbones??, hurt/comfort, injury, blow jobs

Day 25 ALT: Caged Rumlow & Bucky - 1385 words

abuse, cages, shock batons, violence, starving, handfeeding

Day 26: Forced to Choose (NSFW) Steve/Bucky, Rumlow/Bucky - 3635 words

Part Seven of ‘Til the End of the Line

past non-con/rape, past abuse, dialogue heavy, betrayal, breakup, unhealthy relationships, kissing, grinding, erectile dysfunction, Steve whump, Bucky’s broken dick, past hydra trash party, the end of the line

Day27: Survivor’s Guilt Rumlow/Bucky - 430 words

dreams, blood, buried alive, fucked up soulmates

Day28: “You’re safe now” (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky - 2585 words Continued from Day20: Knife Wound

non-con/rape, past non-con/rape, (sing songs) the soldier can’t consent, past violence, hurt/comfort, conditioning, anal fingering (brief), anal sex, wet&messy, hydra trash party

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2023 #cara writes #hydratrashparty #writing masterlist #check those tags!#rape tw #abuse tw #noncon tw

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katatonicimpression · 1 year

Note

Choose violence - 9, 10, 18, 19

9. worst part of canon

Pahahaha

Dunno there's a lot of it. We're coming close to a century of bad writing decisions at this point lol. Some honourable mentions that have been on my mind recently:

Hank's current villain era.

Sexy nazi teenage girl (sin)

Sexy nazi teenage girl, redeemable (?) edition (jet)

Laura as a tween and like... all of that

The lourdes retcon. Maybe it's weird to rank it as low as these others but genuinely. The backwards understanding of what makes a story work, and the relentless misogyny in the guise of being empowering. It makes me so mad.

10. worst part of fanon

Hmm... most of the stuff that bothers me is like "this one person said something ridiculous but it would equally dumb of me to engage with it." So I don't know if there's one big specific fanon thing...

Hydra trash party.

Like, on principle I support people who want to write horror and stuff but, as fanon? No. Doesn't even make sense with the canon for a start and is just so, so, so not my thing to read and it is fucking everywhere.

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

Let's say Shinobi, for old times sake.

He's literally fandom bait before there was fandom bait. Sad, misunderstood, pretty, queer young man with a traumatic childhood? Where are the screaming hordes of fans? Where is the wholesome shipping between him and Christian? Where is the problematic shipping between him and Fitzroy and the subsequent fandom discourse over whether or not that is technically incest? Where are the blorbos? Where is the love?

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

Ah. Um. Well.. oh fuck it.

I'm enjoying the betsy series so far.

I usually can't do excalibur at all in no small part because I live here lol. But idk maybe it's the tabloid spoof thing that's making it feel less out of touch with reality? And I'm actually enjoying the betsy/Rachel romance to my surprise. They've added just a sliver of toxicity to it which has made it finally interesting, and exploits the fact that betsy canonically is not the best person which idk I appreciate

From a fandomy perspective, it would be so much easier if it was irredeemable awful but it's just not. I do agree that it's a shame Rachel's first official canon gay relationship is this and not kitty, and I genuinely do believe that they should have put betsy on the back-burner for a few years when they brought kwannon back. But given that they didn't do that, idk I can't be mad at this. It's Tini Howard's third shot at the concept lol but so far I think it's her best one.

#asks

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linzeestylish · 1 year

Note

💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕

Oh, thank you anon! 💕

[fanfic] In The Length of a Breath - Steve/Bucky, 616!Universe, Space!Mpreg. This is hands-down my favorite thing I've ever written. It's not about the mpreg; it was never about the mpreg. It's a character study, taking advantage of the absolute absurdity of 616 in general and the Bucky Barnes: Winter Soldier landscape in particular, to put Bucky in a situation where he's forced to confront his relationship with Steve Rogers as it stood in 616 circa that period. I've since gotten a number of comments about how this fic feels unfinished, and--fair. I still fully intend on going back and writing a sequel/coda at some point. But to me, at least, its ending makes perfect sense. The mpreg was never the point. It was always about Bucky and his relationships (or lack thereof).

[fanvid] Gimme More - A Hydra Trash (Dance) Party. I won't lie, when I premiered this video at Fanworks, I had a few people tell me that they didn't get it -- and honestly, that is fine, because it has a very specific audience. Gimme More is and remains a love letter: to the Winter Soldier, to the Hydra Trash Party, to all of the things in between. This is an earnest character study of the Winter Soldier set to Britney Spears, and that will pretty much determine early on if that is something you want in your life or not. It remains my favorite of my fanvids, though. Not just for the editing or the pacing, although I'm still proud of that, but for the narrative. It works, exactly like I wanted it to work. I very rarely watch my videos in retrospect without seeing something I want to change, but this one? I love it. I adore it. I wouldn't change a thing.

[fanfic] Run For The Fences - Natasha & Steve, Steve/Bucky. I have edited and revised this fic so much that I literally cannot do it anymore, but honestly, I adore this fic. I'm proud of Natasha's POV; I'm proud of the tenderness of her relationship with Steve. I'm proud of the glimpses we get of Steve and Bucky's relationship and what it looks like once they get to feel safe, more or less, for them. I'm proud of the way the fic is written overall. I wrote this fic because it was how I wanted Steve and Bucky's story to end, and honestly, that has only gotten more true as the MCU has developed (and particularly after Steve's absolutely atrocious End Game finale).

[fanvid] NLYTM (Not Like You Told Me) - Castiel, Dean/Castiel. I'll be honest, it was between this and another Destiel vid, but the theme of this meme seems to accidentally be "creative projects that I love because nobody else does," and this vid fits the descriptor better. This vid was an Id project: I rarely vid Rob Thomas because I know I am too in my feelings to be objective, but honestly, when it comes to Castiel -- it works. He deserved more. He deserved better. And I was able to articulate that without becoming bitter, which I think was a difficult thing to do. I also really like the atmosphere of this vid. I think SPN can be a challenge to vid because there is so much material, and this vid has a very strong emotion to it, which I am and remain proud of.

Thank you again for asking, nonny - this was a fun little project!

#fandom is my fandom #fandom: mcu #memes #fanvids #fanfic

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the-horniest-book-club · 2 years

Text

HBC FAQ/Guidelines

What Happened to the Old Blogs?

The old blogs can still be accessed! They’re just for archives now and no longer accepting prompts or letting them be claimed. @the-ss-horniest-book-club @the-ce-horniest-book-club @the-th-horniest-book-club and @the-marvel-horniest-book-club

What Are Drunk Drabbles?

The OG HBC was started by a group of writers who would write drabbles for prompts they received from each other (and other followers) and they would drink adult beverages while they wrote and posted. Usually all in the same night. The format has since changed, but the name stuck!

The current format for Drunk Drabbles allows writers to claim a prompt from our follower-provided prompt list via DM/asks and write it.

Every now and then, we do return to our roots and do a one (sometimes two) night OG Drunk Drabble event. For those events, sign ups are required because prompts are sent directly to each writer rather than the writer choosing specific prompts. (Note: Adult beverages are optional.)

How Do I Claim a Prompt?

To claim a prompt, check out our Claim a Prompt check out the current prompts and then send us a DM/ask to claim it. You choose ONE prompt to write. Once it’s posted to your blog (or a screenshot to show it’s in your queue) and you have sent us a DM with the link - you may take another prompt.

Please note that you can only hold a prompt for a maximum of Two Weeks. If we haven’t received your work after that, the prompt would be put back into the available prompts.

What genres are acceptable in The HBC?

The HBC accepts: Fluff, Angst and smut and any of those 3 combined.

Here is a list we do not accept.

Pedophila

Non/con or dub/con

Anything supporting bigotry

Beastality

Hydra trash parties

Sex pollen

Necrophilia

Vore/Eating people

Not clear consent ABO

Incest

Who can I write for?

As of August 2022, we no longer accept RPF stories, meaning you cannot write or create anything for the actors themselves, only their characters.

When it comes to the characters, we have two groups:

1. 18+ MCU Characters

2. 18+ Characters of MCU Actors

Note: By 18+, we mean that the character is fully established as 18+ in the project (or most recent MCU project). If there is any ambiguity over the character’s age being over 18, they are not allowed. We call this “The Peter Parker Rule.”

Based on Spiderman: No Way Home, the Spiderman played by Tobey Maguire and Andrew Garfield are 18+ and are allowed. However, there is some ambiguity as to how old Tom Holland’s Peter Parker is due to the snap, because of that, his Spiderman is currently not allowed.

While we do not have a full list of characters allowed (that would be a LONG list), we do have a list of characters not allowed.

The prompt specifies a character, do I have to write for that character?

Yes. If you’ve chosen a prompt with a character already named, then that’s the character you write for. If it’s just a normal dialogue prompt with no character listed, the choice is yours as long as the character is of age and not on our banned character list.

Word Count Requirements?

There is no minimum or maximum words to write. Our only requirement is that if it’s longer than 500 words you use a “Read More”.

If you don’t know how to add a “Read More” to a post on the mobile apps, it’s :readmore: on it’s own line. If it’s done correctly, you should see a line like this when editing your post.

Who Runs This Blog?

Due to the previous HBC mods receiving anonymous hate mail as well as known harassment to some of our contributors, the mods of this blog will remain anonymous.

It is our mission to keep this new HBC a safe place, hate free and drama free. If you receive any unwanted anon hate messages because of your affiliation with the HBC, we ask that you report it to Tumblr immediately first, and report it to our blog second.

If we find that a current contributor is harassing other HBC members, we will report that person to Tumblr and block that person.

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lauralot89 · 6 years

Text

I’ve never sure whether my most memorable contribution to HTP is the queer neurodivergent Catholic Latinx vegetarian cat collecting HYDRA agent, or the sad stuffed blue bunny of repressed trauma.

#HYDRA Trash Party #Hydra Trash Party Edit #Isaac Murphy #the sad blue bunny

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barb-aricyawp · 3 years

Note

I would love to see Bucky hurt on a mission )maybe one where they are kidnapped and he's tortured) and falling back into a soldier like mindset with refusal of care of self-blame. With Steve and/or Sam. Your writing is just so good!

This is...like not at all what you asked for. But it just sort of fell out of me. Sorry about that.

trigger warnings: self-harm (sort of), caning, blood

Rumlow opens the door. Without even really looking at Bucky he says, "You again."

Bucky can't meet his eye as he asks, "Can you do it?" And then, because Rumlow will make him say it anyway, he grits out, "Please?"

Rumlow shrugs. As if Bucky annoys him. Disgusts him. "Come in."

They cut straight to it. Bucky takes off his shirt and bends over Rumlow's coffee table. The glass one. He can see his knees through it. His hands laid over his thighs. They spasm involuntarily with each blow.

"What happened?"

"I failed a mission," Bucky grits out. His breath fogs the glass. He feels himself slipping into the Winter Soldier. So it feels good to add, "Sir."

Rumlow hesitates, cane held aloft. Then, the grin audible in his tone, he commands: "Status report?"

It's a relief to give himself over to Rumlow. To his commander. "No physical damage incurred, sir."

The cane whistles through the air. Lands with a snap. "Let's see if we can change that."

Rumlow has good aim. Excellent aim. Each lash of the cane lands directly between the notches of Bucky's vertebrae. Where the skin is pulled taut. It sends pain stinging down his whole spine.

That's why Bucky comes to Rumlow. He knows what Bucky needs.

"You fucked up," Rumlow says plainly. A statement of fact.

"Yes, sir."

"You endangered everyone on your mission." The next blow lands low on his back. Savagely low.

Bucky's exhales sharply. "Yes, sir."

"If you were still my asset..." Rumlow strikes him again, in the same place. Deepening the welt. "I'd decommission you."

Bucky's eyes water. "Yes, sir."

When Rumlow's arm is tired. When Bucky's back is wet with blood. When it's done, he stands gingerly.

"Cap know you're here?" Rumlow asks casually. It doesn't really matter to him. He knows Bucky will never give up his location.

"Which one?" Bucky hesitates before pulling his shirt over his shoulders. He wore the black one so that if he bleeds through, it won't show. The cotton stings when it clings to his new wounds.

"The one that cares about you."

Bucky winces. The reminder that Steve doesn't give a damn about him hurts worse than the rattan cane.

"No," he admits. "Sam doesn't know I'm here."

#torture tuesday #whump #marvel whump #whump bucky barnes #brock rumlow #bucky barnes rumlow #hydra trash party #selfharm tw #blood tw #caning #idk why I'm like this #no editing we die like men

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kocuria · 3 years

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Wordlessly, Zemo slipped behind Bucky once more. Pressed in, closer than before—intimately close. Dangerously. He hooked both his hands over Bucky’s shoulders then slow, so slow, he stroked them down Bucky’s arms, making a performance of the contact, of each swell and dip, lingering like an artist over his beloved creation. Like a lover in the act of seduction.

Sam watched with narrow eyes, his hackles rising at the sickening demonstration of touch. Bucky though—Bucky barely blinked. And when Zemo trailed his sly fingertips back up, then slithered one hand around the front of Bucky’s neck and cupped it, skin to skin, Bucky actually raised his chin to make room. He let it happen. The same guy who wouldn’t let Sam give him a friendly slap on the back without hissing like a feral alley cat.

Digging his thumb into the tender place beneath the jawbone, Zemo drew Bucky’s head back. Exposed his throat, and Bucky’s only response was to swallow, a delicate bob of his Adam’s apple as he was—exhibited.

for inches and anatomy (I Give You Him), a HTP FaWS episode 3 re-write by @kickflaw 🖤 a.k.a. the quickest collab i’ve ever done, start-to-finish in under 24 hours 👀

(find my fanart and my edits on Tumblr) (before & after under the cut ✨)

#the falcon and the winter soldier #faws spoilers #hydra trash party #zemo #Bucky Barnes #kocuria edits #kickflaw #before and after #dark'tato #kocuria visuals

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hydratrashbook · 7 years

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TRASHBOOKS SHIPPING!

If you ordered a book, you’ll see an email in your inbox.

Here's what's up:

- US orders: The bulk of it went out today, and should should arrive by next Wednesday. There's a few "special cases" that need additional packing, and those will be going out Monday, and will arrive Friday latest. - International orders: If you ordered 2 books or a Skinny Steve, I'll be able to mail it out on Monday. If you ordered a single Bulky Barnes, I'll need to first test it at the post office. (Basically: I can mail <1lb envelopes and >1" boxes at the kiosk. The bulky is >1lb but <1", so...dunno.) Regardless, I should get the Bulkies mailed out by the end of next week. Online stuff:

- The fic links will be active starting Aug 1st, when we unveil our AO3 collection! - Starting Aug 5th, we will be reblogging the artists' art on this Tumblr account. Watch this space so that you can like/reblog your favourite Trashbook 2 artworks!

#hydra trash party #hydra trash party edit #trashbook 2

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leviathanhomecooking · 4 years

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