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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Hey, loved the prompt. Unfortunately I'm not much of a pornographer so here's something quick I whipped up to tide you over. But I 100% encourage more fills bc is prompt is glorious.

---
Bucky was flipping pancakes, his hair tied up in a low, messy bun. He looked the very opposite of the winter soldier in a batter stained tank top and a pair of mom sweats. In fact, his bare feet on the kitchen tiles made him look more like a housewife than an assassin. Clint sat at the table, ranting and gesticulating wildly with one arm, the other wrapped tightly with a sling.
"-two weeks! Can you believe it! I can't believe they benched me for two whole fucking weeks for a pulled muscle and a couple of graze wounds!"
Bucky turns off the stove after the last pancake is done, and brings the whole lot, plated into two towering precarious stacks, to the table.
"Well Barton," Bucky replies sardonically, "I'm not really sure a dislocated shoulder and a hole in your side can really be classified as a pulled muscle and graze wounds, but I'm sure that if you can actually stand up from that chair without passing out from pain or pulling a few stitches, Steve might consider letting you go out fighting time travelling dinosaurs with the rest of them instead of stick you here on assassin sitting duty."
Clint sputtered indignantly. But he conspicuously changed the topic.
"So," he coughed. "Those pancakes smell delicious."
"They should," Bucky replied, digging in to his prodigious pile. "These were my mother's recipe. And Stark keeps the kitchen stocked with the really good vanilla extracts."
Clint made a face. "I still don't know why you and Bruce so adamant about the kind of vanilla you use. It's not like they taste any different."
"That's because you're a heathen."
Clint rolled his eyes. "Just because I don't know the difference between cinnamon and nutmeg or why the hell you'd use rose water-"
Bucky dropped his fork with a clang.
"Barnes? What's- Barnes?! Bucky?"
Bucky turned to look at Clint, but it was the Winter Soldier who looked out from his eyes. His expression was flat and grim, and extremely dangerous. All the hairs on Clint's spine stood up, and he tensed, hand inching towards the knife he had tucked in his left boot. The soldier approached Clint.
Loathe as he was to admit it, Clint actually did have a two day old gut wound that rendered him basically useless, and a sling for his arm besides, so he hoped to hell the trigger he had tripped has not been a kill order.
"JARVIS!" He called instead, his tone calm and non confrontational. "Please inform the Avengers that I have tripped one of Bucky's triggers." He did not take his eyes off the Winter Soldier, who was slowly advancing towards him, his impassive gaze giving nothing away. Just as Clint is about to push himself out of the chair and run for it, or do something stupid like stab the Soldier with a Bowie knife, the soldier dropped to his knees.
"W-what the hell?" Clint yelped as Bucky reached for his crotch. "B-Barnes? Bucky?"
The soldier paid him no heed, choosing instead to unzip and unbutton Clint's jeans.
Clint swiftly drew the knife from his boot, and pressed it to the Soldier's throat.
"What the hell are you doing?" He demanded, hoping to hell that the soldier wasn't about to castrate him.
"Demonstrating the Asset's loyalty, sir." The Winter Soldier replied.
Clint decided that he had slid into bizzaro world.
"And h-how are you planning on doing that, soldier?" He said, trying to sound like someone that the Sikdier would demonstrate his...loyalty...to.
"By pleasuring you with its slutty fuck holes, sir." The Soldier replied, with about as much seduction in his voice as a dead buzzard.
"You don't have to do that" Clint hedged, trying to edge back in his seat. "I'm already very certain of your loyALTY" His voice climbed an octave when The Soldier reached into his boxers and took out his dick.
Clint experienced a moment of stunning clarity in which every cell of his being screamed "THIS IS BAD".
However, given that he was basically unable to stand or walk on his own, or use one of his arms, he wasn't inclined to antagonise the deadly Russian murder machine.
The soldier gave Cling's dick a few perfunctory tugs, and when it completely failed to rise to the occasion, sucked it into his mouth.
Okay, so Clint didn't have a death wish or anything, but he did have a bad history of banging deadly assassins and spies, both Russian and otherwise, and Barnes have very, very nice lips.they were pink and always slightly chapped from his habit of biting and licking them constantly, and looked obscenely hot wrapped around Clint's dick. Clint had eyes. And needs. And a bad tendency to get boners in life or death situations. So what if his breath hitched slightly or if his dick twitched and began perking up in interest.
"You don't have to do this." Clint said weakly, almost as if he was chanting a mantra. "C'mon, Soldier, you don't have to- to."
Clint felt his brain attempt to explode and his brain cells undergo mass spontaneous apoptosis as the Soldier took his dick to the root, chocking and gagging himself on it, his enhanced lungs allowing him to stay like that for almost a long while, drooling all over Clint's cock with his tongue darting out to lick Clint's balls.
It is entirely possible that the noise coming out of Clint's mouth can be described as "gibbering". His was torn between cumming right then and there, and shrivelling up in fear.
"You don't- you don't.. Ah FUCK, Barnes you don't have to do this" Clint repeated desperately. The Winter Soldier pulls himself off Clint's dick, a string of saliva connecting his obscene red mouth to Clint's dick, which was more or less completely slathered in his drool.
Clint felt a pulse of dread shoot through him, funnily enough just behind his gut wound, when the Soldier stood up and pushed his sweats and boxers down in one smooth motion. He stepped out of them, and stuck three fingers into his own mouth, sucking on them and wetting them thoroughly. Clint felt sick to his gut as he watched the Soldier shove his fingers in his ass, stretching his hole so roughly that there was no way it was not painful. His face was still totally blank and dead. He had tears wetting his lashes and running down his cheeks, but they did not make him look a single bit more human.
The soldier spat on his fingers again, and spread the saliva in his hole. Clint had had tried anal with saliva as lube before, and he knew just how bad an idea that was. And even that had been after much more prep than fingering himself for more than twenty seconds.
He felt the bile rose up in his throat as the soldier give his dick another few licks, then rise up and straddle him, sitting in his lap. In this position, Clint could feel the Soldier's totally soft dick against the dressing on his stomach. He holds the knife up to the soldier's neck, but his grip feels weak.
The soldier grips Clint's dick and sinks down, the impossibly tight grip of his ass making Clint's flagging erection return to full hardness. The soldier takes only a second or two to sink himself to the hilt. He immediately begins moving his hips, slowly at first, but increasing in speed as his hole was forced loose by Clint's dick.
The soldier's hands are resting on Clint's shoulders, and Clint is suddenly hyperaware of how close they are to his neck, and how powerfully muscled the Soldier's arms are. He can feel sweat beading on his forehead.
Clint made a noise of distress. "Soldier. Barnes. Bucky. Please. You don't know what you are doing, please stop. You don't need to do this."
The soldier pauses and stares at him, as if that was the only time he had heard Clint say that. Some emotion passed through the Soldier's face, but it was gone almost before it appeared.
"It understands now." The Soldier states calmly. "The Asset's performance had been unsatisfactory. It will rectified this immediately."
Then, as Clint realises that perhaps his words had not really been understood after all, the Soldier began bouncing hard and fast on his dick, harder than Clint would go even with more prep or real lube, and reaches back to caress Clint's balls methodically but skilfully. The tight squeeze and the fast pace felt good for Clint, but the lack of lube was slightly uncomfortable. He could only imagine what that felt like on the receiving end. His legs were also weak from terror.
As much as Clint wishes that this was not happening, the tight, hot heat of the Soldier's hole is too much, and he feels as if he is burning up from the inside out, trying to resist his pleasure, to resist taking his pleasure from a Bucky who couldn't consent.
It was almost a relief when Clint feels his orgasm build in his gut, his balls drawing up and the hand holding the knife spasming and almost dropping it as he involuntarily thrusts up shallowly, once, twice, and then he is shooting his cum deep into the Soldier's hole.

Clint's orgasm had a transformative effect on the soldier. His face relaxed, and it seemed that the Soldier had considered his mission accomplished. He blinks, once, twice, and then Clint can see Bucky's consciousness surfacing.

"Clint? What-" Bucky freezes, taking in his position. His face turns deathly pale, and his lips are pressed into a thin line. All expression drained from his face. Of he hadn't looked so shell shocked and incredibly traumatised, Clint would have mistaken his change in expression as the Soldier returning.
Clint has no idea what to say, to the man who he effector just raped, so he says nothing, and watches Bucky stumble out of the room, bending to pick up his pants and boxers but not bothering to put them on. His asshole is puffy and inflamed, and Clint can see it twitching and winking. A drop of his cum flows out and drips down Bucky's thigh.

Clint tucks his knife back in his boot, buttons himself up, and pushes himself out of his chair. He is weak kneed from both his wounds and the sudden absence of terror. He stumbles into the nearest bathroom and throws up Bucky's freshly homemade and beautifully fluffy pancakes. He vomits so hard it almost feels like he has popped a stitch. He certainly feels wounded.

--
"So, uh, hey," Clint says, sometime around 3am the next morning. He is standing awkwardly in the doorway of the living room. "I understand if you want me to get the fuck out but, um I just wanted to see if you were, uh, okay."
Bucky, who had frozen upon detecting Clint's presence, shot him an incredulous look. "Barton, I'd figured that it should be me who is asking that question."
Clint scratched at the back of his head, then sidled into the room. "Look man, I'm not saying that it was an enjoyable experience for me, but it wasn't as trau- didn't bring any history the way it did with you." Clint wants to backhand his big stupid mouth.
Bucky doesn't say anything for several minutes, staring unseeingly at his hands.
"They conditioned me as a sex toy as well as a pet assassin." Bucky confesses bitterly after a while. "I didn't want anyone to know. Didn't want Steve to know that his beloved Bucky was also just a cumdump and a fuckhole for the whole of Hydra." His mouth twists into an ugly, mirthless smirk. "They at least let me refer to myself as a person when I was murdering people for them. When they wanted to fuck me, I was just this...object. A warm hole to be filled and passed around."
Clint's guilt intensify by numerous orders of magnitude.
"Hey man." He says slowly. "I know it isn't anything nearly as bad, but I know what it's like, to be emptied out from your own head and have someone else pulling your strings. And I know something's about guilt too. So I am just gonna lay this out there: that wasn't your fault. It's not your fault that someone took away control of your body, and it's definitely not your fault that you responded to a trigger word that those bastards had buried. If anything, it was my fault for tripping it in the first place, and it's definitely on me for not subduing you or restraining you."
Bucky looked at Clint humourlessly. "Well, you definitely know some things about guilt alright. But it's not on you, Clint." He says as if someone is twisting a knife in his gut. "You're injured and you have use of one arm and a wound that was a gaping hole less that two days ago. There was nothing you could have done. It's not like the Winter Soldier ever gives anyone the chance to run."
Clint ran a hand over his face. Hr was very messed up for a long time after Loki and New York. But he has begun to make his peace with it. Bucky is still felling the tug of Hydra's strings.
"Look, Barnes, I'm not going to give you platitudes about how it's going to be alright and how everything is going to turn out just fine. But I am going to tell you this: you're making progress. And as long as you can move forward, as long as you know that what they did to you can be undone, you know that there is a day where they will become only memories to you."
Bucky pulled his lips into a humourless smile. "I sure do hope that day would come sooner rather than later." He says, and slips out of the room, his fists clenched tight and his eyes brimming with tears that he tries and fails to contain. He is still limping a little.

FFFFF QuQ I typed this up at 8 in the morning after an all nights and didn't proof read it enough ORZ so sorry please bear with my typos, I'll post a cleaned version on AO3 ASAP (<= loser who hates typos and bad proof reading)

You are not a loser, you are a god. This is awesome. *hands you a few stale french fries and half a bottle of water*

QuQ aww thanks I'm glad u liked it *snatches food out of ur hands and hunkers down warily behind a rusty truck and stuffs it all into my mouth at once*

OP here. Thank you for this sexy guilt trip! Please post a link to your AO3 post when it goes up? :)

That was so good!

I'm sorry, but I've mentally prepped myself for this rap fic, so prepared, gonna read it and get some catharsis, so Clint's line about being castrated was so out of the blue that I laughed so hard I feel out of my chair.

OMG. I was not prepared for that. Or prepared to find anything funny at the moment.

I like it a lot, I've read a lot of stories along the lines of "miscommunication happens, one sad shmuck of a character thinks he's has to preform oral under pain of punishment" but the other character in this senero always jumps straight to "the fuck is this guy trying to blow me for?" and now "OH SHIT DONT CUT OFF MY DICK".

So yeah, really out of left field but totally approaite. I wish more fics could go that rout.

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Trash Party Dumpster #1

Fill: Pancakes, Bucky/Clint

Re: Fill: Pancakes, Bucky/Clint

Re: Fill: Pancakes, Bucky/Clint

Re: Fill: Pancakes, Bucky/Clint

Re: Fill: Pancakes, Bucky/Clint

Re: Fill: Pancakes, Bucky/Clint

Re: Fill: Pancakes, Bucky/Clint