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.

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[Fill] Jack Rollins + team cap, torture, Hydra husbands (3/4)

[(Anonymous)]

Part three: ROGERS

Jack hadn't been worried about Hill, Wilson, Barton or Romanoff. He had been sure the Winter Soldier could handle his mission, and he had been right. But they hadn't been the main course.

Jack was worried about Rogers. He had managed to break the Soldier's programming in the past after all, and Jack knew he couldn't beat him alone. But it was a risk he was willing to take. For Brock. He ignored the voice of reason that was telling him Brock would need him alive if--when--he wakes up.

It was too late to back out the moment Jack sent that text from Romanoff's phone, anyway, or even before that--Rogers would go after him the moment he learned what Jack did to his precious Sam Wilson. Truth was, Jack had set himself on a path he could not turn from, no matter how risky it was becoming.

"Whatever happens today," he told the Soldier as they were preparing for their last mission, "remember you're in debt to me and Commander Rumlow."

The Soldier looked at him seriously and nodded. It had been two weeks since his last wipe; Rogers had broken his programming after just a few hours. Jack knew he couldn't rely on that. He had seen Pierce use psychological tricks on him long enough to know what to do, but then, he wasn't Pierce. He lacked his charisma and manipulation skill. He had to work with what he had, and it had to be enough.

In the end, everything went more or less smoothly. Rogers came to the diner at night just how Jack had instructed him to in the text, thinking he was looking for Romanoff. Then he was attacked by the Soldier. Jack remained hidden in the shadows, ready to bolt should things go wrong. But they didn't, and Jack was convinced it was due to Rogers' own stupidity. First of all, he refused to fight back. He tried to talk to the Soldier, calling him Bucky--what a ridiculous nickname by the way--and for a moment there, Jack really worried his revenge mission was about to go to shit. But even though the Soldier definitely recognized him--Jack distinctly heard him say 'Steve'--he didn't stop pummeling his face until, finally, after long seven minutes, he managed to knock him out. He dragged his body to the kitchen, threw it at the row of metal counters and secured him there with the electromagnetic cuffs. Jack approached him, laying his hand on his shoulder.

"Good job, Soldier."

The Soldier turned to look at him. "Will my debt be paid after this?"

Jack studied his face. It was clear the Soldier wasn't happy with his current task. He might've even had doubts if he was doing the right thing. Jack's answer could determine how the rest of the night would go.

He nodded. "Yes, Soldier. What would you like to do after we're done here?"

The Soldier stared off into the distance for a moment. "I am not sure."

"It's alright. You'll have a lot of time to decide."

Jack patted him on the back and stepped towards Rogers. Considering his face was punched repeatedly with a metal fist, he didn't look bad; split skin here and there, little bit of blood, one eye slowly swelling and darkening. Jack wouldn't have much of a face after such treatment.

Super soldiers.

Jack's backhand slap rang loud in the silent diner, but Rogers' eyelids didn't even twitch. Well, at least Jack got to slap him. Actually, a few more backhands wouldn't hurt... not Jack at least.

He stopped when he got annoyed with Rogers' lack of reaction. "Bring him around with some water," he ordered the Soldier.

The Soldier filled a glass and emptied it onto Rogers' face. It worked; Rogers frowned, cracked his eyes open, then blinked the water away. Jack waited for his gaze to focus on him before he greeted him with, "Long time no see."

Rogers didn't react at first as he still tried to figure out what was going on.

"The last time I saw you, the muzzle of my rifle was pressed to the back of your head," Jack continued, taking his knife out of his pocket and flicking it open. "Definitely one of my fondest memories. I keep wondering, what if... Brock didn't like you well enough to not want to have you killed." He caressed Rogers' face with the blade, and Rogers flinched away from it. "And you sent a helicarrier straight into his face..."

"I didn't..."

"But it was your order, wasn't it?" Jack asked, raising his voice. "To shoot down the ships? What was the point, I wonder, if you could just safely land them instead?" He pressed the knife into Rogers' throat; he could kill him right then, just slit his throat. It would have been the easiest thing in the universe. But Rogers didn't deserve the easy way out. "Not spectacular enough for you?" He leaned in. "You think you're such a hero, so much better than all of the bad guys as you think of us, but you don't care what happens to the ones you fight with. Do you know how many times I witnessed you kill a person just because they were on the opposite side? You, Captain America, are no different from us."

Rogers was becoming more aware of his surroundings. He must have recognized the electromagnetic cuffs as he jerked his arms, trying to break free, but they held. With both his wrists and ankles cuffed, Rogers wasn't going anywhere.

He scoped his surroundings next, and that was when he noticed the Soldier, standing stiffly behind Jack's back. "Bucky."

Jack turned his head to check on the Soldier. He was frowning, looking troubled, and he returned Jack's gaze, clearly seeking guidance. Jack offered a soft smile and grabbed the back of his neck, rubbing slightly.

"You're doing so good," he crooned, and the Soldier visibly relaxed, even though it wasn't something that was done to him often. It was more of a show for Rogers than anything else. "Go back to the truck, get yourself a treat."

Rogers enjoyed the show, judging by his more determined attempts to detach the cuffs from the metal counter. The Soldier kept glancing at him when walking past towards the backdoor, but didn't change his mind.

"It's a wonder, how much a guy can do for a dog treat, huh?" Jack said after he left. It was a blatant lie; there weren't any dog treats, but chocolate chip cookies in the glove box.

"You will pay for this," Rogers snarled.

"No," Jack replied calmly, pressing his knife against the collar of Rogers' t-shirt, "now, you will be doing the paying."

He cut through the t-shirt, leaving a red line across Rogers' chest. Rogers clenched his teeth, but his slowly swelling face must have ached more than the shallow cut.

When Jack yanked Rogers' pants and underwear down, he was surprised to see Rogers' cock's interest in his ministrations. He looked up at him with his eyebrow raised, noting the blush rising in Rogers' cheeks. Rogers looked away, struggling against the cuffs again, still believing he was strong enough to break out, unaware that Jack had already tested them on the Soldier in that setting.

"I knew you had a crush on me," Jack said, not hiding his disgust, "but really, Rogers? Just from me undressing you?" He caressed Rogers' hard cock with the flat side of the blade, and it earned him an aborted little gasp. "Oh well, I guess you haven't been getting any action recently. Were you saving yourself for me? Is that it? How sweet and delusional of you." He flicked the head, making Rogers jerk. "Take that dick outta my face, you nasty slut. You're just as bad as Romanoff, practically begging me to fuck you despite knowing I'm a married man. And people think you have morals."

Rogers was obviously thinking of a good comeback, but when Jack mentioned Romanoff, he remembered why he was there in the first place. "Natasha. Where is she? What did you do?" he demanded.

"The worst is behind her now," Jack replied in a mockingly soothing voice. "Don't worry about her. Worry about you. Because I didn't get you naked to make love to you, Rogers."

He turned around and walked over to the deep fat fryer. He grabbed a ladle and dipped it in hot oil.

"Do you know what he said when I asked him if he knew what it was?" Jack asked conversationally, knowing it would rile Rogers up and that he'd be unable to do anything about it. "'It's for burning people,' he said. I honestly don't think he remembers french fries exist." He approached Rogers again, holding the ladle up. "But he was right in this case, so I scratched him behind the ear."

Rogers didn't have a chance to get properly angry as Jack tilted the ladle making the hot oil drip down onto the Rogers' neck and chest, drawing a howl of pain from his throat. The atrocious smell of burning flesh almost made Jack gag. He watched the oil bubble and the skin beneath redden, listened to Rogers' screams and waited…

Sure, it was satisfying to give Rogers what Rogers did Brock, and to be the one that made him scream. But Jack had expected something more. He thought that once he did this, once he made everyone pay for shattering his and Brock's happiness, everything would be... better. But Brock was still comatose in the hospital, and that, Jack realized, was fixing absolutely nothing.

It didn't mean he was gonna stop though. Maybe it didn't magically make everything better, but Rogers still deserved it.

"You may think you don't deserve this," Jack said, filling the ladle again. "I imagine in your head, I'm doing bad things to you because I'm a bad guy who likes hurting the good guys like you. But you do deserve this, Rogers."

"Maybe I shot the ships down," Rogers hissed, "but he was the one who launched them in the first place."

His words made Jack want to throw the ladle at him, but he managed to contain his rage. Instead, he slowly tipped it above Rogers' chest, making his skin sizzle drop after drop. Rogers' face broke in sweat as he struggled to suppress his screams--and it was a view to behold, to see him sweat--but he couldn't stop himself from letting out a pained growl every once in a while.

"Victim-blaming, Cap?" Jack snarled. "You know, after years of watching how much of a good man you really aren't, I'm not even surprised."

"I'd say I was sorry," Cap said between huffs of breath once the ladle was empty and Jack turned around to refill it, "but by launching those ships, he condemned hundreds of thousands of people to death. So no, even if the very ships killed him, I wouldn't be sorry. You may think he didn't deserve that, but the way I see it, he really did."

Jack tightened his hold on the ladle's handle. He closed his eyes and exhaled, trying to calm himself down. He was doing that for Brock, he reminded himself. It was Brock's gift. He couldn't just lose his resolve--how could he face him after if he did?

"You're a lot like Romanoff," he said, turning back with the ladle at the ready. "She, too, expected sex, and she, too, tried to make me angry once she found out I wasn't gonna put my dick inside her." He positioned the ladle over Rogers' face this time. "And I'll tell you what I told her: not a smart idea."

As he watched the skin of Rogers' face melt away, and the oil drip down Rogers' throat as he screamed, he thought of Brock. Up until then, he could only imagine what his face looked like since it was covered in dressings, but seeing the red bubbles rising and popping on Rogers' handsome face now, he was getting a good idea. The difference was that the super soldier would heal, and after a while, there wouldn’t be a mark left. Jack would never be able to look into his husband's face again.

Once the dressings came off, would he even be able to look at what was left of it?

"I preferred working with your black friend, what was his name?" he continued, trying to push his worries away. "Winston? He knew what was good for him and cooperated."

"Sam," Cap said in a shaky voice when Jack turned to refill the ladle again. "What did you do to him?"

The satisfaction at the sight of a fearful realization that Romanoff wasn't Cap's only friend Jack had gotten to in his eyes was bleak, but still there, and took away from his anger.

"The worst's behind him. He's with Romanoff now." Jack tipped the ladle above Cap's chest, and Cap shut his eyes again, his jaw muscle jumping as he clenched his teeth not to let out any pained sounds. "You'll join them, eventually. Once I'm done with you. This will last a while, though. Do you know how long Brock had lain under that wreckage?" He paused, genuinely waiting for an answer, but it never came. "I don't either, but I imagine it was quite a while before they found him. I just want you to really understand what he went through, Rogers. He lay there in absolute darkness, unable to move, hot oil dripping down on him, and he had no idea when that would end. Perhaps he was already looking death in the eyes. It's not the same for you, of course, you know you'll survive this. You'll heal." Jack almost sighed, looking Rogers' body over. "At least you lost that disgusting boner for me. I hope the next time you think of me, this will be the only thing that comes to your mind."

He went quiet after that; he had never been a talkative person, and he ran out of things to say. Rogers was also mostly silent excluding the pained growls he would let out every once in a while. He also tried to break free again once or twice before entirely resigning himself to his punishment. It was a little unnerving, as it wasn't his style. All this seemed to had gone too easily. Maybe Rogers thought burning was all that would happen to him. He wasn't expecting the cherry on top.

Once he was satisfied with the state of Rogers' face and chest, Jack put down the ladle and picked up his knife again.

Re: [Fill] Jack Rollins + team cap, torture, Hydra husbands (3/4)

[(Anonymous)]

OP here, happy holidays to me apparently cuz this fic is a proper present and I love it so much. Can't wait for the final chapter!

Re: [Fill] Jack Rollins + team cap, torture, Hydra husbands (3/4)

[(Anonymous)]

Ooh, delicious Steve pain! I love it!

Re: [Fill] Jack Rollins + team cap, torture, Hydra husbands (3/4)

[(Anonymous)]

Thank you :3