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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I can't believe I wrote this??? This is like the second sex scene I've ever written and it's this, god help me. Unbetaed, any mistakes mine. Warnings for: non-con/dub-con, gas-lighting, emotional manipulation, bad BDSM etiquette, Stockholm (kind of) etc. Hope this is okay OP.

“Good boy, you’re so- ah- so good at this Steve, you were- fuuuck you were made for this.” Brock moans, watching him take his dick, his lips stretched wide and swollen. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was made for it; blue eyes that gaze up at him under eyelashes most girls would be jealous of; plush red lips and a distinct lack of a gag reflex meant that Brock could fuck his throat as hard as he wanted.

Which he is currently doing. His thighs bracket Steve's face so he can feed him his dick from above, which lets him tie Steve up the way he likes-- that is, ten foot of rope binding his arms securely to his sides, calves against his thighs and thighs against his chest. It’s a goddamn beautiful sight is what it is, Captain America naked and exposed and fucking needy of all things. All Brock has to do is unzip his pants and he's squirming and whining for it like a cheap whore, eyes glazed and pupils blown.

It had been deceptively easy to get him to agree to this shit. He hasn’t got much of an interest in it beyond the buzz of power that goes straight to his dick when he has fucking Captain America helpless beneath him. When Pierce had first suggested it he’d almost laughed in his face, but ultimately did as he was told despite his reservations, and was shocked to find that all it took was a soft touch and gentle praise and Rogers folded like a stack of 240 pound serum-enhanced cards.

So he tells him about people with ‘submissive natures’, explains caning and subspace (but skips over safe words), calls him baby and Steve and boy to his face (Rogers and Cap behind his back, to the other hydra moles when he tells them all about how he managed to get him to cry by yanking his hair when he was fucking him and telling him how perfect he was. The guys get a good laugh out of that one) and ultimately has the easiest job of his whole career.

Steve seems to realize he’s not paying attention because- always eager to please- he starts hollowing his cheeks and whining around Brock’s dick, which just about does it. Brock tugs at his hair, mumbles some praise and comes down Steve's throat (he swallows. Brock had caned him bloody the first time he’d tried to spit, then kissed him after and told him he was sorry, but he had to teach him better). He smiles down at him, kisses him thoroughly till he’s panting and dazed. Then he climbs off of the bed, tucking his dick back in his pants and reaching for his phone as he goes.

He sees that a text has come through for him to meet with Pierce and update him on the job. He looks over at Steve, sees him making valiant efforts not to ask Brock to return the favor, and an idea forms in his mind. He grins.

“Okay baby, you know I gotta go to work now, shouldn’t be longer than a few hours, you think you can wait for me?” he asks, watches Steve’s face as he wars with what he wants versus what could get in the way of him doing superhero duties. His dick is apparently on board though, red and leaking pre-come against his stomach. Brock smears his hand through it, sliding it up and across Steve’s chest.

“How about this, you stay there ‘til I come back and you’re only allowed to move if your phone rings,” even as he’s speaking he sees that Steve is going to agree, face gone slack like he’s half-way to subspace just from the very thought.

“Yeah, you like that huh? You gonna wait there like a good boy till I come take care of you?” He doesn’t wait for the answering whine, just rifles through the bedside table till he finds what he’s looking for: a pecker gag, which he gently pushes past Rogers’ lips and fastens around the back of his head, and a plug that he slicks up and pushes inside him easily-- he’d already fucked him twice today, and he'd not bothered to clean him up at all.

“You are so, so good. I’ll be back in a few. I love you baby,” he says, giving a parting kiss to Steve's temple just to see his expression go sweet and loving. He feels a little bad for the guy.

Later, he comes back irritated and put out when Pierce hadn’t so much as congratulated him on what he’s done with Rogers, ends up pushing him onto his stomach still tied up and fucking into him till he’s whining and drooling into the pillow. He only remembers to tell him he can come when he’s collapsed and sated against his back. Steve comes without so much as a finger on his dick (another thing he’s trained him to do, like a fucking dog), mentally checks out and stays that way while Brock unties and cleans him up, massages the marks on his skin and curls around him until he falls asleep.

Brock is in an elevator with a dozen other guys as backup, which it turns out is completely unnecessary-- when Steve starts to shift a little warily, he puts one hand on the back of his neck, the other on his cheek and says,

“Listen baby, you need to do as you’re told now okay?” Doubt starts to color his eyes so he kisses him, licks into his mouth and bites his bottom lip, adds, “Be a good boy for me Steve.”

And Rogers drops to his knees like his strings have been cut.

"Are you kidding me?" Sitwell says in his ear, and one of the guys behind him stifles a laugh. Brock runs a hand through his hair and tugs till Steve is looking up at him, his eyes already glassy and unfocused.

"I guess that's...job done then?"

well done, trash!anon. so, well done.

Damn, that's good!

Man, I was listening to some really romantic music while writing this and it was disconcerting as hell. Anways, continuation of minifill, same warnings apply.

Brock kisses away the frown on Rogers’ face and runs a hand through his hair.

“You can take it out whenever you want Steve,” he says, though he knows he won’t, then adds “I won’t be disappointed,” in a voice that ensures Steve knows he will be. Steve nods and turns his head into Brock’s palm, pressing a kiss there. Then he goes and takes some lube and a plug from the chest of drawers and drops it onto the bed, climbs on after it and pushes his uniform pants down past his thighs. He lowers his chest to bed covers, his face tilted to one side and his hands behind his back. Brock has to pause for a second to marvel at how far he’s come -just a few months ago Steve hadn’t even known what subbing was, and now look at him, he'll do practically anything Brock asks- he’s a goddamn natural.

He's pulled away from his thoughts when Steve lifts his head enough to catch Brock's gaze, silently asking for him to hurry the fuck up. Which isn't allowed, and Steve knows it, which only means-- huh. He'd only really started caning him for the thrill of it, making him bruise and bleed and Steve just taking it without much more than a whimper, just because Brock asked him to. And now, seeing the way Steve watches him with full awareness in his eyes, he thinks that maybe Steve agreed for more selfish reasons than just wanting to please Brock. With that in mind, he moves towards the bed.

"I'm not even gonna tell you what you did because I know you know," he grunts as he pushes Steve's face into the pillows. He holds it there for a good half a minute before letting go and moving around the bed till he can spread his hands out across the cheeks of Steve's ass. He listens to him pant for a few seconds, then hits him across the thighs as hard as he can just to hear Steve's breath catch.

"All right, we'll stick with the plan, but don't think you're getting away without punishment. We'll talk about that later when you get home." He says it while he uncaps the lube, coating his fingers and pushing two in without warning. Steve grunts, but doesn't say anything. Brock spends a few minutes stretching him open, avoiding his prostate for the most part; this isn't about Steve's pleasure.

After a little while he picks up the plug (one of the bigger ones, he notes. Maybe he's onto something with the caning, Steve certainly always takes the more uncomfortable option he's given) and slicks it up, pressing into him and twisting, he strokes Steve's flank soothingly till he gets it past the widest bit and the flared end sits flush against his skin. Then he pulls up Steve's pants and smacks his ass, "C'mon, up you get." he helps maneuver Steve till he's standing, glassy-eyed like he always gets when he's on the verge of checking out.

He taps Steve's face a few times, "No no, you've got work, snap out of it-- there you go, that's good. Good boy, you ready?" he says as Steve's eyes clear and he visibly shakes himself, setting aside that mind space for later.

His voice is clear and steady when he says "I'm good sir." Brock nods and pets his hair how Steve likes it, then makes a shooing motion with one hand.

"I'll see you after work baby. Have fun."

He notices as he leaves that Steve's stance is a little wider than usual to accommodate the plug, his gait slightly bow-legged. His pants are unzipped the second the door clicks shut.

Woops, should've mentioned this occurs before the other fic.

This is so good! *offers you clumps of dryer lint and stained take-out menus

Ho-ly fuck.

Wow. Holy fuck wow to both of these. This set is amazing.

Jesus H Christ, Steve is going to be so fucked up forever after all this. He'll probably be need to sub for the rest of his life, but never be able to trust a dom again.

Part two of the three snippets in this universe. Thanks for your comments, glad y'all like! Unbetaed/mistakes mine/same warnings.

He's sitting around with some other HYDRA agents waiting for a debrief, bored and itching to be done with the mission when one of the guys- Shane, perks up a little.

"Hey, you got any new stories about Rogers?" he asks. The other half a dozen heads in the van turn towards him and they settle down like its fucking story time.

"Man you guys get off on gossip like old women." Brock grumbles at them, rolling his eyes when one of the guys says,

"It's not gossip we're getting off on," and they all laugh.

“All right, all right. Well you’re in for a treat anyway, ‘cause I’ve got pictures this time,” he adds, and suddenly every one of them is sitting up and paying attention. Brock pulls his phone from his pocket, bringing up his photos and passes it to Shane, who puts a hand to his heart, eyes wide.

"Holy fuck. Jesus, how did you--" he pauses when Garret, next to him, makes a grab for the phone, "Fuck off, give me a second to digest this man." he swipes through the photos, reaching a hand down casually to adjust himself before handing it over to Garret who chokes on his spit. The rest of their reactions are much the same; some of them laugh, one of the guys starts humming pretty young thing.

When the phone is given back to him, he stares down at the pictures for a second, smirking. They really are something. It had taken him months of careful planning to get Rogers to let him take pictures (which mostly involved a lot of dirty talk about doing it and positive reinforcement in the from of praise and his dick, so not a total hardship) and it was goddamn worth it.

The pictures in question were taken from above, looking down to where Rogers had his mouth stretched wide around Brock's dick, his pretty fuckin' eyes glazed but wide open on his insistence. The tear streaks on his cheeks had mixed with the pre-come Brock had smeared on his face, and he's looking up at him like he hung the fuckin' moon. There ain't much different in the other pictures besides a slight angle change, but they're absolutely enough to get him -and by the looks of it everyone who looks at them- off.

"So," Garret says after recovering from his choking, "You gonna elaborate on how you got Rogers lookin' like that? I wouldn't be surprised if he was drawing hearts around your name with the way he's lookin' at you at this point." Which makes Brock's smirk widen into a full-blown grin.

"It gets better," he says, then walks them through it.

Somewhere along the way Steve must start to actually pay attention to the crap he spouts while Brock's fucking him-- mostly all talk, plus a little bit of good boy here and there to keep him happy, but it isn't until Steve curls around him to sleep one night and asks him what it means to be a cock-warmer that he catches on. Pretty fuckin' fast. So he explains it and watches Steve's expression go contemplative, before he'd nodded and mumbled a maybe and that was that.

It wasn't till a few weeks later that they actually did anything. Steve had been arguing with Stark or something; he comes in with a tight jaw and tense muscles, sits at Brock's feet without any prompting and asks,

"Can we do the-- what we talked about--" And, well. Far be it from him to keep Captain America from what he wants. So he settles a hand on the back of his neck and scratches at his nape for a bit, then says,

"Sure Steve, we can do that. I've got some work to do, so perfect timing." he gets to his feet and pulls Steve with him to the bedroom. He sits on the bed and watches appreciatively while Steve strips and throws his clothes on the desk chair- a clear sign of what mindset he's currently in. Once he's done, he goes to the drawers and takes out what Brock tells him to, then comes to kneel by the side of the bed.

Brock sorts through the pile of stuff for what he wants-- a heavy metal collar, nothing that Steve couldn't break through if he needed, but helps with the illusion. He fastens it around his neck, notes the way Rogers shoulders slump a little. Then two cuffs are fastened around his wrists, and those to a bar that lays horizontally to his chest with a chain that then attaches to the D-ring on the collar. The end result is his hands held up in front of his shoulders, trying to move them forward would only result in Steve pulling his neck forward with them.

Then he grabs the ankle cuffs puts them on and attaches the spreader bar between them. It's the longer one, keeps a good three feet or so between his ankles (which ensures that, even with the serum, after a few hours of kneeling his legs will be shaking with the effort of keeping himself upright). Then he goes to sit on his desk chair, motioning for Steve to follow. He does, albeit slowly, the restraints limiting him to a slow shuffle on his knees.

"Good boy," he says when Steve stops in front of him, and he helps maneuver him till he's mostly under the desk. "There we are, that's good baby, real good." he keeps up a litany of praise while he unzips his pants, settling Steve between his legs and pushing his dick between his lips. His hips jump once in anticipation, but he bites his tongue and forces himself to think of other things-- he wants to draw this out.

He strokes a thumb down Steve's jaw and over his lips, pressing into his mouth alongside his dick just to see his jaw stretch to accommodate them both. Brock smiles down at him and catches his eyes, tells him,

"You aren't allowed to close them, okay? I wanna be able to see your eyes whenever I look down at you." Then he shifts forward a little, and starts on the paperwork he's been procrastinating.

It's a sweet kind of hell, is what it is. He's halfway hard within five minutes, the thought of keeping Rogers down there for hours getting him going even more so than his actual mouth on Brock's dick. He does manage to put the thought aside for a good forty minutes while he fills out paperwork by thinking of an upcoming meeting he has with Fury, though. Who, speak of the fuckin' devil, texts him that he wants to conference call, asap. Brock looks down at Rogers, eyes still unwavering, though they are less focused now, his jaw slack. He shows him the text and watches as he slowly registers it.

"You okay if I?" he asks, then fights a grin when Steve sort-of nods without taking his mouth of off his dick. He probably wasn't even aware of what he was agreeing to.

Brock slides forward on his chair (hears the muffled sound of Steve choking a little), then opens his laptop. Which is simultaneously the best and worst idea he's ever had; the very fact that he's talking business with Fury while Steve Rogers is under the table naked and taking his dick is making him dizzy with how turned on he is. But the fact that all he wants to do now is fuck Rogers' throat but has to sit and listen to Fury for another fifteen minutes is killing him. It also doesn't help that Steve is apparently taking initiative now, curling his tongue and swallowing down Brock as much as he can.

When finally Fury finishes with him and signs off, the second he does Brock reaches both hands down to thread through Steve's hair, tugging and scratching at his scalp while Steve apparently does his best to bring him off as fast as he can. It doesn't take long before he's grunting and coming, spilling down Steve's throat (Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows it). Instead of moving back though he stays put-- gives himself half a minute to make sure he's not over-sensitive before pushing back into Steve's mouth. Steve doesn't question it, just keeps his eyes, unwavering, on Brock's. They watch each other for a bit, then he says,

"I'm so so proud of you baby," and watches with something close to awe as Steve's whole body goes slack, his eyes welling up with tears while he comes, without being touched at all. Brock hesitates for all of a second, genuinely shocked, before he snatches his phone from the table and takes a few photos before the moment passes. Steve blinks a little but doesn't look bothered.

They still don't move for a good half hour after that since Brock genuinely does have work he needs to be doing, and if Steve isn't tapping out (not that he ever does) then he won't either. He must be pretty uncomfortable at this point; come dried on his abdomen and thighs, and the way he's restrained doesn't lend itself to a sustainable position, but he holds it without so much as a whine.

Once he's finished his work he pulls out and stands up, going to the bathroom to brush his teeth and strip for bed before he goes back to Steve. He helps him out from under the desk and out of the restraints, pausing to rub at the bruises (already fading) on his wrists. Then he pulls Steve up and over to the bed where he cleans him up then settles down against him to sleep.

The guys stay silent for the most part while he recalls the memory, only adding the odd quip about how whipped Rogers was, or to laugh a little, but once he finishes, Shane claps him on the shoulder.

"Goddamn, Rumlow, when are we gonna get in on that?"

............holy fuck man. You're killing me. Jesus christ, you're killing me. Everyone on the special ops team has seen Steve Rogers in subdrop with a dick in his mouth. Fury has talked to Brock while Steve Rogers, Captain America, is sucking his dick off.

And it's not just the idea of it all, it's the sex. Holy fuck, Steve tied up and gagging for it and on his knees for hours. JFC

(Will we see the others get in on that?)

that's part three when I get around to it ;)

I for one heartily approve of everyone "getting in on that".

Lmao turns out this wasn't a minifill at all, but w/e. This is the penultimate part, and I never even answered the last bit of poor OPs prompt! Sorry nonnie. Anways, same warnings as before plus: drugging, Steve/multiple OCs, mild humiliation, puppy play.....uh, this one got away from me. And is also maybe not what y'all were hoping for, my bad.

After the Elevator Scene

Pierce entered the room with a flurry of techs behind him, tripping over themselves to explain what was going on. He held up a hand to silence them, then turned towards Brock.

"Rumlow, would you explain to me why I am currently unable to speak to Rogers-- without the bullshit please." he says, even as he turns towards where Steve is sat at the interrogation table, coming to stand in front of him.

"Ah, a combination of things sir. The-- what you asked me to do with him worked to an extent, but he was also given a heavy dose of tranquilizer on top of that to ensure he wouldn't fight if he started to come out of the head space. Shouldn't take long to wear off, but until then," he trails off, gesturing towards Steve. There really isn't any way they are getting anything useful out of him right now; he's slumped in his seat and listing ever so slightly to the side, his jaw slack and his lips parted enough that Brock thinks he'll probably start drooling fairly soon.

Pierce scrutinized Rogers for a second, grabbing his chin and lifting his head a little so that he could check himself before apparently deeming him useless, for now. He steps back, nodding at the other men in the room then turning back to Brock.

"Fine. I'll be back at 2100, do whatever you want with him till then," he says, and then leaves the room, the door clicking shut behind him. The silence that follows lasts maybe half a minute, all of them collectively holding their breath, eyes on Rogers.

"So," a big guy, Gunney, says finally, "You gonna show us some of the tricks you taught him?" That apparently sets the rest of them off, and they crowd forward around the table, twitchy and excited. Brock huffs a laugh and shoves them out of the way, manhandles Steve into standing.

"C'mon baby, up you get. Hey," he puts a hand on his cheek when Steve makes a noise in the back of his throat, finally becoming aware of the other men in the room, "Hey, look at me, there we are-- I just wanna show them how good you are, okay? You going to be good for me?" Steve sort-of nods, blushing prettily, and a couple of the guys laugh. It really is incredible how easy this has been. He's not deluded enough to think he could break down Steve enough that he'd forget his morals (and his dignity), but the tranq on top of everything else is just enough to tip him over the edge.

"It really wasn't that hard," he says conversationally as he begins to unbutton Steve's shirt, "You just gotta be sweet to him, and he folds for it every damn time. He'll do whatever you want-- won't you Stevie?" He adds, slipping the shirt from Steve's shoulders and reaching for his pants. Steve doesn't answer, but that's fine because he knows the answer anyway.

"Like a dog?" Gunney asks from the other side of the table. Brock pulls Steve's pants and underwear down around his ankles, helping step out of them and tugging him towards the table to maneuver him until he climbs up, settling on all fours. Brock strokes a hand down the curve of Steve's spine and grins at the soft whine he makes in response.

"Exactly like a dog."

Brock notes that most of the guys in the room are already having to adjust themselves, and he gets it; the first time Steve had spread his legs and said 'I need you to come in me' Brock had almost busted a nut there and then. And he hadn't even had the added pleasure of Steve doing it in front of group of other people, so he completely understands.

No one makes a move towards Steve though, and while it's flattering that they are probably doing it out of respect for Brock, this is probably their only chance to do something like this, so he waves a hand at Gunney before settling back against the wall with his arms crossed.

"Get the fuck on with it then, we ain't got all day."

Gunney takes it as the permission it is, holding out a hand towards Steve, palm up.

"Come here puppy," he says, half kidding and-- huh. They'd never done anything like that before, not beyond his usual 'good boy' but Steve full-body shivers at the word, his dick becoming fully hard as he crawls across the table toward Gunney with all the grace he possesses (which is a lot, actually. Only Steve fuckin' Rogers could crawl naked across a table and still look powerful while he does it). They watch Steve nuzzle at Gunney's hand while he praises him, then Shane snorts.

"So that's the weirdest thing I ever saw. Was that your input?" he asks Brock, who shakes his head.

"Nope, that's all him. I told you it didn't take much persuading to get him to do this shit, he fuckin' loves it."

Steve punctuates that with a long whine and Brock looks back over to see Gunney pulling Steve's mouth down on his dick with one hand threaded through his hair, the other stroking down the expanse of his back with the same firmness of petting a dog. Seemed like Gunney was sort of into the dog thing too. Some of the guys already have their pants unzipped and their hands on their dicks, but Shane just tilts his head a little, eyes wide, while Steve goes lower and lower till his nose is pressed up against Gunney's pubes.

"You train the gag reflex out of him too?" he asks, but before Brock can tell him it's a perk of the serum, Gunney grunts,

"Jesus would you shut the fuck up? I can't deal with you talking shit behind me, just come fuck his ass or something."

It takes all of five seconds for Shane to register what he said then hop up on the table behind Rogers, resting both hands on his ass with a kind of reverence.

"Don't mind if I do."

OP here: I don't mind AT ALL. This is so much more than I expected, and it is a thing of beauty!

I just want to say again that I love this fic. Fucking amazing, I love this so much.

Not so mini by the end of it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Trash Party Dumpster #1

MINIFILL: Lay Down Next to Your Boots and Pray, Rumlow/Steve, Stockholm, non-con/dub-con

Re: MINIFILL: Lay Down Next to Your Boots and Pray, Rumlow/Steve, Stockholm, non-con/dub-con

Re: MINIFILL: Lay Down Next to Your Boots and Pray, Rumlow/Steve, Stockholm, non-con/dub-con

MINIFILL 2: Didn't Mean To Be Cruel, Rumlow/Steve, Stockholm, non-con/dub-con

Re: MINIFILL 2: Didn't Mean To Be Cruel, Rumlow/Steve, Stockholm, non-con/dub-con

Re: MINIFILL 2: Didn't Mean To Be Cruel, Rumlow/Steve, Stockholm, non-con/dub-con

Re: MINIFILL 2: Didn't Mean To Be Cruel, Rumlow/Steve, Stockholm, non-con/dub-con

Re: MINIFILL 2: Didn't Mean To Be Cruel, Rumlow/Steve, Stockholm, non-con/dub-con

MINIFILL 2b: Didn't Mean To Be Cruel, Rumlow/Steve, Stockholm, non-con/dub-con

Re: MINIFILL 2b: Didn't Mean To Be Cruel, Rumlow/Steve, Stockholm, non-con/dub-con

Re: MINIFILL 2b: Didn't Mean To Be Cruel, Rumlow/Steve, Stockholm, non-con/dub-con

Re: MINIFILL 2b: Didn't Mean To Be Cruel, Rumlow/Steve, Stockholm, non-con/dub-con

Re: MINIFILL 2c: Didn't Mean To Be Cruel, Rumlow/Steve, Stockholm, non-con/dub-con

Re: MINIFILL 2c: Didn't Mean To Be Cruel, Rumlow/Steve, Stockholm, non-con/dub-con

Re: MINIFILL 2c: Didn't Mean To Be Cruel, Rumlow/Steve, Stockholm, non-con/dub-con

Re: MINIFILL 2c: Didn't Mean To Be Cruel, Rumlow/Steve, Stockholm, non-con/dub-con