garbage all the way down (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
trashmod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hydratrashmeme2014-05-30 05:23 pm
trashmod) wrote in hydratrashmeme2014-05-30 05:23 pm
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 riskof 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.
Organization: hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive maintained bygreenkirtle. If you fill a prompt, drop a link at the fill post. Discussion threads now have a chatter post.
If you want email notifications for new comments here, sign up for a Dreamwidth account and click the little bell icon at the top of this post. To read new comments chronologically rather than in threads, use flat view.
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.
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
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.
Organization: hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive maintained by
greenkirtle. If you fill a prompt, drop a link at the fill post. Discussion threads now have a chatter post.If you want email notifications for new comments here, sign up for a Dreamwidth account and click the little bell icon at the top of this post. To read new comments chronologically rather than in threads, use flat view.
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.
Fill: Rank Has Its Privileges 5/??
'You don't mind if I touch you a little before I clean up,' Brock suggests, his face inches from the soldier's. The soldier cringes when he says 'a little' but he nods anyway.
'That's good. You're a good little puppy, aren't you? You didn't mean to mess on my carpet,' Brock encourages as he starts to stroke slowly, 'you just got a little excited, didn't you?'
The soldier looks betrayed at the words, but he’s panting already, his cock shading toward purple at the tip and leaking copiously across his stomach and Brock's hand.
'You're gonna be good for me, ain't you? Good little puppy?'
The soldier tenses suddenly, gasping for breath and Brock pulls back, sticking his fingers into the soldier's mouth to be licked clean. When they're free of the soldier's precome—and slick with spit besides—he drops his hand to keep stroking.
The soldier whines and tries to push into Brock's fist faster, so Brock slows down.
'Don't be greedy, puppy,' he warns, and the soldier chokes back a sob, his expression still half-sick and half-desperate and Brock makes up his mind to keep calling him a dog as long as it has that effect. 'Stay real still for me or I'll have to go clean up your mess. Be a good boy now.'
He pulls away again when the soldier's dick throbs against his palm, putting his hand up to be licked and ruffling the soldier's hair with his other hand, and gets an anguished look in return.
'You gonna be a good boy?' he say seriously and the soldier nods miserably.
Brock rubs his palm against the head of his dick as he turns away, leaving the soldier writhing against the table.
He makes a show of cleaning up the tiny spot on the carpet and gives the soldier a disgusted look that makes him flinch and drop his gaze. Brock casually picks through the remaining contents of the toy box, then sits on the edge of the desk and orders pizza for dinner. He makes a point of asking if they offer doggie bags and though the server is just confused, the soldier's cheeks flush with shame.
He strokes the soldier's straining cock some more while he waits for the delivery, tells him what a good boy he's being. Wipes a lone tear from the side of his face and toys with pulling on the leash. It makes for a nice evening in, all told. The delivery comes by around nine and Brock jerks the soldier's dick until he sobs, then cries out helplessly when Brock lets go, before he walks down to collect it.
When he gets back with an armload of warm pizza, the soldier is straining against the cuffs with a will, and he freezes when Brock steps in, like a trapped animal. God, he must be pretty far gone if he didn't hear Brock approaching from outside, and his dick is streaking his stomach with white every time he moves. Brock stacks the pizza on his desk and shakes his head sadly at the hyperventilating soldier.
He grabs the edge of the desk and drags it across the carpet toward the table, until he can sit on it within reach of the food, and still comfortably thumb the soldier's slit with his other hand. The soldier's longing gaze alternates between Brock's hands and his face. Pizza, touch, then a hopeless search for mercy.
'You're a good boy,' Brock says with his mouth full, 'but puppies can't have people food.'
That, and he doesn't want to think what the corporal in Medical would do to anyone who interfered with the soldier's diet. Probably the same things Brock would do if anyone else interfered with the soldier's dick.
When the soldier gets too close to the edge, Brock changes tack and starts playing with his nipples again, making him whine with the teasing touches that have no chance of letting him come.
Brock pinches and twists at the soldier's nipples, rougher now because the soldier is a long way from being able to anchor himself in anything. He's in the currents now, not steady, not safe, but subject to all the eddies and whirls of pleasure. Subject to Brock.
He's lost control of his throat, which is pretty standard by the time his cock keeps leaking even when Brock isn't touching it. Making all kinds of pretty little noises when Brock tugs too hard or twists too far, bringing his nipples to little aching peaks and clamping them again.
Brock prefers them clamped, because he's not interested in the soldier's body as anything other than an instrument to torture the soldier's mind. If Brock could make him tremble and grovel and wail fully-clothed, he'd choose that option, sure he would. As it is, it's nice to have another layer of metal between them, and it makes the soldier so taut and frantic, makes him watch Brock with absolute need, with all of his attention.
He stands up to close the distance between them, and hooks a finger into the soldier's collar, ignoring the leash. He brings the soldier's face close to his, searching for tears in those frightened blue eyes and listening for the catch of breath in his throat.
'You want me to get you off, puppy?' he says, and the sudden look of hope and pleading in the soldier's eyes makes Brock want to leave him like this for months.
'You're a good boy, aren't you? You deserve a reward, don't you?'
The soldier doesn't dare nod at either of those, his hopeful expression shading back into self-loathing, and Brock grins at him and presses closer still, until his hips are aligned between the soldier's thighs and the soldier is breathing hard with the effort of not moving.
'You want to rub off on my leg like a good puppy?' he breathes and the soldier looks physically ill at the thought, but he squeezes his eyes shut and nods.
Brock tugs on the collar just to watch him cringe, then wraps his other hand around the soldier's hip in reassurance.
'Go on,' he says, trying to ignore the way his heart is racing and feels the soldier's cock twitch against his belly. 'Just ask me. You know I'll look after you.'
The soldier forces his eyes open, but fixes them on Brock's chest and visibly steels himself.
'Please, sir, may I... move?' he chokes out at last, and Brock gives him a warning look.
'That's not what I said,' he points out, and lifts his right hand to twist one of the clamps until the soldier groans again, barely keeping still.
'Please... may I rub against you?' he manages, his cheeks pink and still unable to meet Brock's eyes.
'You're gonna have to beg for it now,' Brock promises, twists just a little so his shirt drags against the underside of the soldier's dick. That's all it takes.
'P-please! Let me rub on you, please sir, I'll be good, I'll— I'll be— Please, I'll be a good p-puppy.'
'Good boy,' Brock praises, unable to hide his grin at the soldier's miserable expression. 'Go ahead, you can hump my leg like a little bitch, it's okay. I've got you.'
The soldier starts slow, shame holding him back as he shifts reluctantly against the front of Brock's shirt, and Brock rubs his hip and even releases the collar to play with his hair again.
'You're such a good boy, aren't you? Yeah, you're doing real well. I've got you.'
The sensation gets to the soldier quickly—he's already desperate and he always craves words of praise—and he pushes forward, arches his hips and starts rutting against Brock's shirt as best he can. The restraints make it awkward, exhausting, but the soldier can keep it up for a little while.
'Such a good boy,' Brock coos, scratching behind his ear. 'Such a good puppy, aren't you?'
The soldier seems to have tuned him out completely, staring over his shoulder intently, concentrating on moving his hips and distancing himself from where he is, and that isn't what Brock planned for at all. He takes a step back and the soldier groans helplessly, still bucking against the air, his cock twitching and getting no friction.
'Hey,' Brock says sternly, 'pay attention. Look at me, puppy.'
The soldier turns glazed eyes on him, and Brock tugs on a nipple clamp until he manages to focus.
'You want to make me happy? You look me in the eye, understood? You wanna be a good puppy? Say it.'
The soldier takes a deep, shuddering breath that stops barely short of being a sob.
'I want to be a... good puppy, sir.'
Brock nods understandingly, ruffles his hair a little and steps back up between the soldier's legs.
'You gonna look at me while you rub off like a good boy?'
The soldier nods frantically, his eyes not leaving Brock's. Brock wraps a hand around the soldier's cock and presses it against his stomach.
'Go on, then. Be good for me.'
Shakily, the soldier starts moving again, struggling to lift his hips and staring miserably at Brock's face. Brock goes back to toying with the soldier's hair and his chest, trying to make him moan instead of thrusting mechanically. He glances up every so often to make sure the soldier's eyes are fixed on him like they should be. The soldier is starting to struggle with the movement, levering his hips up with the strength of his arms against the table. He can't keep this up, and Brock doesn't have the slightest problem with that.
The soldier's breathing falls out of rhythm as he ruts desperately against Brock's belly and leaves his shirt smeared with precome and Brock tightens his hand in the soldier's hair.
'You ready to come? You gonna get off humping my leg like that? Yeah?'
The soldier struggles to breathe, trying to move faster and his shoulders are shaking with the effort.
'All right, puppy, it's time. Gonna come on three? Gonna come when I tell you like a good boy?'
The soldier stares at him, all frantic need and pleading, thrusting with all his strength.
'One. Ready, boy? Two. Three.'
The soldier doesn't come at the word, isn’t quite there, and though he flinches he just keeps moving frantically, his lip quivering as Brock shakes his head and steps away from him.
'Gotta learn better than that, puppy. Don't worry, I'm gonna teach you how to do as you're told.'
The frustrated sob he gets at that is enough to have him up on the table. He braces on the soldier's shoulder and climbs up, gets one knee under him on the corner of the table and straddles the soldier's chest. He drags his cock out and forces it into the soldier's slack mouth.
'C'mon, boy, lick.'
The soldier sucks at him weakly so Brock grabs a handful of his hair and forces him onto his cock. God, he hasn't been this hard the time with the spider gag.
'Gonna teach you to do so many tricks,' he promises. 'Gonna get you a new collar that never comes off, so you know who owns you, puppy. Gonna take you down to the vets in the K-9 unit and see what they can find to put up your ass. You're gonna be such a good boy.'
The soldier whines softly at the idea and Brock chokes the sound off with his dick.
'Good boy,' he pants. 'Yeah, you're gonna be a good fuckin' dog for me, aren't you? Gonna make you go into heat for my come, gonna get a fuckin' rottweiler in here to breed you, see if he pisses on you to make you his. See if he holds you down and knots you even bigger than that plug you're wearin'. See if... ohhh fuck, gonna keep you on that leash so... so fuckin'... long.'
The soldier swallows Brock's come again and there are tears on his cheeks when Brock looks down and strokes his hair.
'Good boy,' he breathes. 'Good dog.'
Brock climbs down from the table once he thinks his legs will hold him, and leans heavily against the desk. He hasn't come so hard since he was a teenager making time with girls in college, and the soldier is still looking at him like he wants to die and is just praying Brock will cut his throat. It's a good fucking look.
'You did good,' he says again. 'Such a good boy.'
He rubs the soldier's cock vaguely, still reeling from the orgasm, and there's no denying the soldier deserves a reward after something like that. Brock drags the toy box across the desk toward him and finds a scarf he's kept since his first wife left him, really just a length of silk that he's still fond of. He runs it through his hands and loops it gently over the soldier's poor aching dick. He draws the loop of silk carefully up and down the soldier's erection and the soldier starts sobbing all over again at the new sensation.
The soldier can't sustain this. Brock knows how fucking good silk feels and he's not surprised at the way the soldier is just whimpering and shaking constantly, still struggling to thrust upward with exhausted muscles. It's not going to last, so Brock lets the loop of silk fall around the base of his cock and instead just rubs lightly at the underside of the head with one fingertip, trying to decide how he wants this to go down.
There's no way the soldier is going to last any longer. He's a mess, skin flushed and slick with perspiration, cock twitching and drooling against his stomach, and Brock is going to have to do something or he'll shoot off without being touched and waste all this hard work. He fetches the ice from the freezer again and tells the soldier how sick and pathetic he is for trying to rut against it when it's pressed over his groin.
The soldier's head lolls weakly on his shoulder and he gives Brock a miserable, aching look as his erection finally recedes.
Re: Fill: Rank Has Its Privileges 5/??
(Anonymous) 2014-11-04 08:14 pm (UTC)(link)Everything oh god
Re: Fill: Rank Has Its Privileges 5/??
(Anonymous) 2014-11-04 08:18 pm (UTC)(link)Just damn.
Brock's indifferent act, and the begging, and the dialogue and just AUGH. I feel like such a sadist. I feel so bad for the Soldier and yet I could read this forever.
Re: Fill: Rank Has Its Privileges 5/??
thank you for the comment and the flailing! :)
Re: Fill: Rank Has Its Privileges 5/??
(Anonymous) 2014-11-05 12:35 am (UTC)(link)I can't even deal with this any more
the shaming
the humiliation
the way bucky hates it and does it anyway
brock's first wife
THE BESTIALITY DIRTY TALK
make sweet love to me in this trash pit. wait, no. slap me around and choke me with your belt.
Re: Fill: Rank Has Its Privileges 5/??
(Anonymous) 2014-11-05 02:24 am (UTC)(link)I think you, me, and the author could sit and talk about Brock's first wife for hours.
I'll bring the eggnog (from last year).
Re: Fill: Rank Has Its Privileges 5/??
i have so much meta about brock's life and his brain and his fragile masculinity. he has SO MANY ISSUES and it is kinda creepy being inside his head.
not willing to go public here because, well, trash, but anyone willing to make a dreamwidth account can message me for my skype/tumblr.
Re: Fill: Rank Has Its Privileges 5/??
(Anonymous) 2014-11-05 05:12 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Rank Has Its Privileges 5/??
(Anonymous) 2014-11-05 05:14 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Rank Has Its Privileges 5/??
(Anonymous) 2017-04-29 06:41 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Rank Has Its Privileges 5/??
(Anonymous) 2017-04-30 09:59 pm (UTC)(link)+1, this fic is amazing. I, ah, revisit it often.
Re: Fill: Rank Has Its Privileges 5/??
(Anonymous) 2016-03-28 09:45 am (UTC)(link)("on three")
("such a good boy")
This is my favorite post on the meme and when I saw just one chapter of it I knew I needed the rest, but I hadn't yet found the thread button so I just... read... the entire kinkmeme up to this point in order to find it and somewhere along the way I turned into trash and found kinks I didn't know I had and all that but this is still my favorite but also how dare you
Re: Fill: Rank Has Its Privileges 5/??
(Anonymous) 2016-03-29 07:50 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill: Rank Has Its Privileges 5/??
i totally forgot i had an account here until i saw this thread again lol
Re: Fill: Rank Has Its Privileges 5/??
(Anonymous) 2016-03-31 12:00 am (UTC)(link)