hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

Okay, kids, you know the drill. Don't be a jerk except to fictional characters. Warn if you want, but read at your own risk, because

hydratrashmeme is about as far from a safe space as you can get. Garbage we like: noncon, whump, aftermath, violence, mind control, inappropriate uses of Bucky Barnes' metal arm, bad guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves. Garbage you should find a different trashcan for: a/b/o, D/s-verse, soulbonds, mundane AUs, OOC evil!good guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves, rotting leftovers dressed up as a romantic gourmet meal. Nothing wrong with 'em, but this isn't the crowd you should be pitching to if you're trying to sell Brock Rumlow as anything but a human dumpster fire.

Link your fills on the fill post, post unprompted fills as replies to a header comment so the wall o' text is collapsible, and let me know if you're interested in helping out with the Pinboard archive.

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All prompts or fills that contain Infinity War spoilers must go on the Infinity War spoiler post until May 26th. Spoilers in the main dumpsters will be deleted.

Round 4 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 5.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

This kind of a form of suicide?

Rumlow's ultimate fantasy is for the Winter Soldier to murder him with his bare hands. Especially the metal one. So he orders him to. Right before he dies there's a bit of instinctual fear but mostly just the best orgasm of his life.

Not sure how exactly the Soldier kills him. Strangles him, beats him, what have you, you decide.

I feel a strange attraction to this idea... Someone fill it o.o pwease

He'd been looking at Bucky's arm for the better part of an hour, studying his half naked form from where he lounged in an arm chair. The former Asset was passed out and sleeping soundly on his stomach without a care in the world about who he was sharing the room with.

Brock had wondered how that hand would feel on his body when he'd first seen it, looking at the Asset with open admiration. The stare hadn't gone unnoticed and it turned out that all Brock had to do was ask to find out how it felt to be held in the Asset's grip. The Asset had been kind enough to oblige and Brock could imagine that the attraction was mutual and that he hadn't been ordered to do so.

These days things were different. His skin was a messy patchwork of scars that left his nerves damaged. Bucky had understood and compensated for it, finding the spots where Brock could still experience sensation and making sure he screamed. Swallowing down a shot of whiskey was a reminder of the bruises on his throat. He winced, but the pain wasn't enough.

Brock stood up, walked to the edge of the bed and pressed the cold bottom of the glass to Bucky's bare shoulder. He woke up, fixed him with a dull glare and took the glass from Brock, downing the rest of the drink and setting the glass down. Bucky had gained more autonomy, but Brock knew that look, how he searched his eyes for his next order.

“You ready?” Brock asked him and only got a nod in reply. That hadn’t changed all that much, he thought as he sat down next to Bucky on the bed.

“I don’t want you to be delicate like you were last time. I really want to feel it. You’ll be carving another notch in your belt after this. Another Hydra goon gone.” He hadn’t finished speaking for a second before a hard left backhanded him across the face, his cheek aching from the sudden burst of pain. Bucky hadn’t put that much effort into it, otherwise he’d be laid out on the floor.

Brock spat, his saliva mixed with blood. “Seriously, Barnes? That all you’ve g-?” His sentence was abruptly cut off by a punch to his gut that had him doubling over. Not too far, since Bucky had other ideas and forcibly pushed him onto his back on the bed. He was punched again and again, most of the blows landing on his torso. Brock was grunting throughout it, not making any effort to block Bucky’s blows. What he wished was that he was as suped up as Barnes was, that he could take the full force of his blows and watch Bucky’s body work as he used him as his punching bag. As things were he was already coughing up blood and whined pitifully when Bucky stopped. There was another look in his eyes what Brock read as confusion as he always did when he saw Brock’s cock hard from receiving a beating.

He suddenly gripped Brock’s cock with his left hand, the metal encasing him in a punishing grip. “I should rip this thing off,” he grunted. The disgust was sudden and surprising, Bucky never offering much during these sessions. Must be because tonight was special. He pressed his thumb to the head of Brock’s cock and he groaned loudly, leaking as he felt every ridge. That particular pleasure was short lived and Barnes moved his hand to press down on Brock’s chest. With anyone else Brock wouldn’t be that alarmed, but the pressure increased and he flailed instinctively, pinned as effectively as a person holding a bug still under their finger. The threat of his chest caving in became too real and all of a sudden it was gone, leaving Brock grasping for air and his dick twitching all under Bucky’s scrutiny.

“I’m going to kill you,” Bucky announced. It wasn’t a threat or said with any venom, only an affirmation of the finality of what he was about to do.

Brock heart was already hammering away in his chest when Bucky loomed over him and he considered ordering him to stop. He thought about it again when his fingers wound around his throat and started to squeeze - less so when Bucky ground his ass down against his dick. His conviction wasn’t going to falter and he ran his hands up and down Bucky’s metal arm in encouragement.

“That’s it, baby, do it,” he choked out. The grip became tighter and he couldn’t do more than gurgle at the back of his throat and when it increased his legs started to thrash. Barnes wasn’t merely choking the life out of him - he was crushing his throat in the process. The sounds he made became more distressed as his vision became dark around the edges and all he could see and feel was the Asset. He was filled with horror suddenly, that he didn’t want to die after all and he bucked. Without oxygen his movement was sluggish and he mostly only ground up against Bucky’s unyielding body, his fear and pleasure mounting in one final moment as he spilled between them and fell still with a final sigh.

Op
Woah, that was awesome, thanks. I didn't think about it being post-CATWS. It added a lot to it.

I offer you 23 rotten fruits for this magnificent fill, o Mighty Nonnie!

I LOVE IT.

GLORIOUS.

Thank you for your kind praise.

Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

Rumlow makes the Winter Soldier kill him

Re: Rumlow makes the Winter Soldier kill him

Re: Rumlow makes the Winter Soldier kill him

Re: Rumlow makes the Winter Soldier kill him

Re: Rumlow makes the Winter Soldier kill him

Re: Rumlow makes the Winter Soldier kill him

Re: Rumlow makes the Winter Soldier kill him

Re: Rumlow makes the Winter Soldier kill him