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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this is ~~a tiny minifill~~ [it ended up being an okay length] from someone who's never written porn before. and it does not actually get many things in the prompt, but it does have Rumlow thinking the Winter Soldier is really hot and sucking him off. someone else should also fill this.

...I hope you're happy that I had to look up blowjob technique

--

Officially, Brock is with a SHIELD strike team in England taking out an MI6 agent who looks likely to compromise the cover of a SHIELD asset. Unofficially, Brock is with a SHIELD strike team in England taking out an MI6 agent who looks likely to compromise the cover of a SHIELD asset. SHIELD is Hydra, after all.

It's his first mission out of the country, and it gives him a glee that even he thinks is kind of stupid, to be working to undermine SHIELD in the late Director Carter's native land. Fuck her and her drowned boyfriend and Howard Stark. If they couldn't work out that they'd been undermined from the beginning, they weren't much of an intelligence service.

The other fun part has been getting Jimmy across the pond. Brock thinks that really anyone in SHIELD can have a reasonable contempt for airport security technology and for airport security officials' competence, but it's still kind of unbelievable that the strike team were directed by a non-Hydra higher-up to travel to England in plainclothes by civilian airline and still succeeded in bringing along an unregistered extra agent with a metal arm. Brock couldn't help touching it. It wasn't necessary to do anything to the arm, all the foiling was done to the airport scanners, but he wanted to feel it, the texture and temperature difference, the metal in the hand articulating, flexing like tendons under his own hand. Jimmy didn't seem to notice; he was talking with one of the other strike team members. His flesh and blood hand was still, but Brock imagined it holding a gun, or a knife. Knew he'd see it soon. Even that hand could beat his face in or choke the life out of him. The metal one--he thought about it on his throat, in his hair. On his dick. He slid his hand up to Jimmy's tricep, where the machinery under the metal plates mimicked heavy musculature. They'd been briefed on Jimmy's skills and Brock knew exactly what he was capable of.

"I can feel that." Brock had no idea how long Jimmy'd been looking at him and a stab of fear hit him. He took his hand off Jimmy's arm immediately, brushed some imaginary dust off his clothes, scratched his nose. No extraneous movements from Jimmy. His face was pissed off, but his voice was expressionless; he didn't need to throw Brock off, or even ask, to get him to obey. Calling him "Jimmy" in his head is the only liberty Brock is allowed. He thinks about screaming it.

--

Jimmy's like no one else Brock has worked with before. He's not officially the team leader on this mission, but everyone else defers to him, including the actual team leader, Travers. When they need to break in, he lets Sciacca do his work, but he keeps the team back while he stands perfectly still waiting for patrolling guards on the inside to walk into his crosshairs, and when they go further in and encounter the expected resistance, it's like he's the only person in the room. Enemy agents, trained killers, fall like they're made of cardboard. Brock stands like a statue himself, training going completely out of his head, because he can't stop watching; the man is gorgeous, brutal, stabbing close to him with a knife in his flesh hand and firing with a pistol in his metal one, turning the blade away and punching when it's more convenient. Jimmy calls out orders, not even out of breath, to the other SHIELD agents during the fight, and then has them search the bodies for identification when it's finished. Travers hops to it, and Brock snaps out of it and does the same. Sciacca finds their target's ID on one of the bodies, and Travers confirms. "Just as well," she says, "harder to know who we were after."

"Find his computer. Make sure there's nothing left here about our asset," says Jimmy. Fry hangs back inanely. "I'm not so good with computers, so Rumlow here and I are going to find the target's locker and blow up the entire room it's in." Fry and the others move out.

Brock follows Jimmy half-expecting that his role in this part will be to stay next to the explosives and make sure that no one disarms them before they go off. It's not as though Jimmy is looking more kindly on him than before. Now that Brock's closer to him, he can see tiny, tiny beads of perspiration along his hairline, and a surge of desire mixes with his fear. He couldn't lust after a weapon, a robot killer. Jimmy is a man who sweats, and feels touch on his metal arm, and admits to not knowing much about computers and that's fine because he's the best with a gun or a knife or his fists that Brock has ever known.

The area they enter is deserted; either the rest of the team is getting themselves in trouble, or the resistance they met before was everyone. Brock and Jimmy find a bank of lockers, match the key found on the target's body to a lock on one of them. Instead of putting the explosives in that one, Brock kneels to lockpick another one nearby. No point making it clear who they came in for, since they got lucky earlier. Jimmy hands him the explosives, and he wires them up, having been able to regain a little of his focus. He finishes and looks up at Jimmy, who makes no move to leave.

"What else?"

Jimmy's face is hard to read. "Stay down there and suck my dick, Rumlow."

Brock knows he has just set up a remote-control bomb but he is suddenly, irrationally terrified that it's a time bomb that Jimmy will arm to see if Brock can get him off quickly enough. Can picture Jimmy doing that to an enemy agent, not because he's the kind of man to wager his life on an idiotic thing like that, because he's not, Jimmy's very careful and very good at what he does, but because he can't imagine anyone who could hear those words and dare to fail.

Jimmy continues. "You've been watching me the whole time. I'm not joking."

Brock isn't entirely sure Jimmy knows how to joke or likes jokes. He shakes his head. "Didn't think you were. Please." It must be clear enough in his voice that it's a please, yes and not a please, no, but that probably doesn't matter. Jimmy unfastens his trousers and takes out his dick, and Brock kneels up and leans in eagerly, bracing one hand on Jimmy's hip. He can't help just taking a look at Jimmy's dick, as a part of Jimmy that he hasn't seen yet. Brock wants to see all of him, actually have a chance to look at the way his chest and thigh and arm muscles move under skin when he doesn't need to have clothes on and go out and kill people. A man can dream. Right now, though, he wants Jimmy's dick in his mouth and trying to look at it too would leave his eyes as crossed as his straps.

He licks up the length of it a few times, trying to keep his heartbeat and his arousal under control so he can focus. Jimmy's pretty hard already; maybe the adrenaline does something for him. Maybe he gets turned on by fighting. Brock sure gets turned on by Jimmy fighting. He shifts on his knees, closer between Jimmy's spread feet, and takes Jimmy's dick into his mouth.

Brock isn't exactly sure what Jimmy was thinking he'd get out of this suckjob--whether it's the power that he likes, whether it'd been a while, whether he just really wanted to blow off steam after the fight and knew Brock was hot for him. When he looks up, Jimmy's usual composure is shaken, mouth open, teeth bared a little. It thrills Brock to do this to him, and it doesn't matter what brought it on. Brock, personally, finds it a privilege regardless. Finds it a fucking blasphemy, actually, that he's being allowed so much control here, with his hand around Jimmy's dick as he sucks him off. He drops that hand to Jimmy's side and catches Jimmy's near hand, the flesh and blood one, puts it on his head. Doesn't put his hand back up, but presses it against his own dick, which is counterproductive and makes him moan around Jimmy's. Brock doesn't think he could be saying fuck my mouth more clearly if he were using words.

Brock sees Jimmy's feet, bracketing his knees, brace a little, and then Jimmy's metal hand is in his hair too, pulling and twisting, and oh, he can't not open his trousers and stroke his dick now. He's sloppy, off time with Jimmy's thrusts into his mouth, and chafing dry, but it doesn't make him less desperate for it. He's weak from need, and if Jimmy didn't have both hands in his hair while he fucked him, he wouldn't be able to stay up. He's able to exert enough control to keep himself quiet, like Jimmy, after that first moan, but that's it.

Jimmy thrusts a few more times and comes in his mouth, and that's almost, almost enough to send Brock over too. He doesn't need to be dared to swallow. Jimmy leaves him kneeling on the floor with his hand on his own dick, obviously aware now that Brock is jacking off to this if he wasn't aware before, and steps around behind him, flesh hand still in his hair. Brock has a moment to wonder if he's about to get a reach-around from this beautiful, fucking terrifying man. He doesn't have another moment to wonder whether he deserves it before Jimmy's metal hand wraps around his throat and he comes hard on the floor by the lockers.

Jimmy lets him go. When Brock comes back to himself, Jimmy looks as though nothing has happened; his trousers are done up, there's not a drop of come on his shoes, his face is schooled to impassivity again. Brock's sure that he looks like a mess, and Jimmy coming out of this looking like a professional just makes Brock want to do it again.

Jimmy tosses him something as he stands up. It's the remote control for the explosives in the locker. "Come on, Rumlow," he says, heading back towards the room of corpses where they'll rejoin the team. Brock follows him and, once they've put some distance behind them, hits the button and blows every shred of evidence to smithereens.

UNF.

Hot. Very hot. No words left.

/wallows in the filth

I love what a different different take this is on the Rumlow-and-the-Winter-Soldier-were-fuck-buddies storyline. Or maybe I just love Rumlow being a total slut for the Winter Soldier. Either way, great work anon!

WOW.

I love your take on the Soldier, this is a lot more close to canon as I imagine it to be, because the other operatives sure seem to defer to him a lot, because well, he's an awesome war machine. I don't like it when he's written as being abused and laughed about by other operatives... sounds extremely OOC.

And well, totally see why Rumlow would have that *problem* working alongside him, UNF.

I don't like it when he's written as being abused and laughed about by other operatives... sounds extremely OOC.

Well, there's a chance you may be in the wroooong dumpster, Rogers.

Having a preference is fine, but, well, thou shalt not judge the trashiness of thy neighbor's kinks and all, especially when I'm not sure what else you were expecting out of a trash party that's all about Hydra Party Favor Bucky.

Oh damn, I totally didn't mean to imply it's not good, I just expressed an opinion. But you are right that it isn't possibly the right place, this one, lol.

Sorry, I'm definitely keeping this to myself next time. All kinks are good and I'm on board!

I think my favorite thing about this is that, in the First Avenger prequel comic, Bucky throws a fit when anyone calls him Jimmy.

That and the hot.

Author!anon:

Edited (some minor changes and an extension to the fight scene) and posted at AO3 here (http://archiveofourown.org/works/1792312).

This was damn hot. Thanks for posting this!

op here: thanks so much! i think that's actually the first time someone's filled a prompt for me, and WOW. that's hot and well written, i totally believe that it's rumlow, and the characterisation of this version of the ws is intriguing(he's actually way less passive than i was imagining, but that's a feature, not a bug :DDDDDDD)
THANKYOU AGAIN!!

ps i'm delighted you looked up blowjob techniques as it can only serve you well in your future fic-related endeavours. (i make no assumptions about its use otherwise.)

I'm glad you liked it! I hope someone will fill the prompt more the way you wrote it, too. This ended up having a younger and lower-ranking Brock Rumlow, still a terrible human being but without the experience or clearance to know about the Winter Soldier program, so it has less "Rumlow feels him up while strapping him into the chair" and more "Rumlow thinks he is a very hot killing machine."

(ohoho blowjob techniques will only be useful for me in fic)

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Trash Party Dumpster #1

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