hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Holy shitballs, look at us go. Welcome to Captain America fandom's resident wretched hive of scum and villainy: ROUND THREE. AKA Bad Guys Do Dirtybadwrong Things To Your Faves, AKA the Hydra Trash Party kinkmeme. As usual, BLANKET NON-CON AND NSFW WARNINGS apply: just assume going in that everything in this landfill is unfit for human consumption.

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, and dark!good guys AUs are off-topic.

[Round 1] [Round 2] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by

greenkirtle)] [Round 3 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

Round 3 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 4.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"You know, Nastasha, when you said I owed you a favor this is not the way I thought you'd collect on it."

The man went by the name of Grzegorz, and she did not particularly like him, but as far as reformed low-lifes went, he was actually pretty decent. His main business used to be stolen cars, and he had workshops where he repainted them. Nowadays he had gone "legit", or mostly anyway, and ran a second-hand car dealership. He even had a cheesy commercial on local TV and everything.

He had hired her once, back in his shady days, because his daughter had been kidnapped. Guess that came with the territory. In that sense, she was glad her kid being taken for ransom would never have to be a worry for her.

Either way, she did not take kindly to big men who negotiated through little girls. So she took him out with extreme prejudice, for a fraction of he usual fee and a yet-to-be-determined favor in the future.

Which is why it was that right now she was looking out over the derelict hangar, that had once house luxury stolen cars, but had now fallen into disuse.

"I'm surprised how you even know it's here," Grzegorz added.

"I have my ways."

They took an industrial elevator that let them one floor underground, a place that had once been a hidden storage room...and torture chamber.

"I swear this isn't mine. It came pre-installed and frankly, I didn't feel the need to ask what it was used for."

She believed him. Despite his many faults, Grzegorz did not enjoy torturing people, nor had he ever been that level of criminal to have a need for it. He just had a tendency to gather unfortunate associates.

"You can use it as long as the building still stands, but please, I do not want any trouble."

"There won't be."

"For the sake of my daughter, I hope you are not lying."

Well, he sure knew where her buttons were. Smarter, more powerful men had failed at that, but Grzegorz knew at least one weakness.

He handed her the keys to the building, and left. She heard the whir of the elevator as he left without her.

The room was not exactly in mint condition. It smelled of dampness and it most certainly needed to be cleaned, but it had potential. Whoever had left it originally, did not care to take everything with them as they left. The center of the room still had something resembling an arm chair, that sported restraints for both arms and legs. They could not hold the Winter Soldier, she was sure, but wasn't that meant to be symbolic anyway? She realized she would be winging it. It had not been a lie, when she had told Bucky she'd done these things before - but she knew it would be different with a supersoldier. She had also omitted the fact that she had mostly done it with men who were her targets in one way or another - not necessarily to kill, but to extract information, to gain access - a means to an end.

In the past, her goal had been to make the sexual interaction useful to her, and no matter how she would twist and turn it, or tell herself that this was to keep the Avengers safe, in practice this would be about him . Even if he said he'd hate her, she still had to be able to look him in the eye after, make sure he was safe and got what he needed.

She inspected the room. A quick turn of the faucet taught her that there was running water, even though it came out wheezing reluctantly. There was something of bathroom adjacent to the main room, though it was more like a cell to hose someone down. She wasn't thrilled about this arrangement, but she had decided she couldn't do this with other Avengers around, not did she want to compromise an of her safehouses in case...what, he screamed? Bolted? Trashed the place?

Someone had actually left equipment - pliers, devices to administer electric shock, bone saws even. She made a mental not to get rid of those, she didn't think she'd want to go into that particular memory of his right off the bat.

There were chains attached to one of the walls - more ways to keep a person immobile. Another wall had Four full-length mirrors which, although stained by now, would have given the victim full view of what was happening to them. Maybe a nose or an ear being cut off, she thought, and they would have to face their own deformity on display. Yes, she could certainly imagine a breed of sadist that would enjoy that.

Almost reluctantly, she hovered near the mirror. She saw nothing but herself, but today she felt like a stranger looking at her own reflection. Who was the woman standing before her? Did she even know? Did anyone know?

"Anna, that is not a grand écart! Your legs need to be stretched out, girl. Stop bending your knee!"

Teacher brought down her cane against the blonde girl's leg, and she winced, but tried to comply the order. Natasha held her breath as Teacher approached. She could see in the mirror her pose was near perfect, but Teacher could always find fault if she chose to.

"Well done, Natasha," Teacher said as she hovered over her, and Natasha could hear herself releasing a breath.

There were seven of them in this room. They had been divided roughly by age that they - the younger and older girls getting training elsewhere.

"Agility is important," Teacher said to the room. "We teach you ballet because it's a bit like fighting. You need speed, and grace, and control. Ballet, battle, espionage - all of it is a dance. Some dances take longer than others, but in the end, you simply need to know the right moves."

Teacher clapped her hands to signal the end of the exercise. Natasha got up from the floor, and saw her peers do the same.

"Today is a special lesson," Teacher said. "Come stand in front of the mirror, all of you."

They all looked at their reflections, seven girls with Slavic faces, dressed in in plain black leotards, looking back at themselves with a mixture of fear and determination.

"You are all 14 or 15 now. You are becoming women. What you see in the mirror is your most important weapon - not guns, not knives, not anything else we will tech you to use here."

Natasha looked at her own reflection, finding those words hard to believe. She looked awkward to herself, limbs a little too long, hair unruly, face still round with baby fat. She was one among the best in training, she knew, but certainly not the prettiest in her opinion.

"Some men will want you for your innocence", Teacher continued. "Some will want your for your beauty. Some will want you because you're dangerous. Some will want you to be their childhood sweetheart, their lover, their friend, their whore, their mother. If you live long enough, their grandmother even, or their teacher. It will be your goal to identify how they wish to see you. What they need from you. Their need is their weakness, and you will exploit it. Do you understand?

"Yes, Ma'am," seven voices said in perfect unison.

"Natasha," Teacher said. The cane was tapped gentle against her chin - a way to get her full attention, but also a warning. "Why don't you show us how you would charm a gentleman."

Natasha could feel herself tremble as she gazed at her own reflection. It wasn't visible, but she knew it was there. She put on her best smile and curtsied, as she cast down her eyed and tucked her hair behind her ear with one hand. Then she looked back up through with wide eyes, batting her eyelashes twice - subtle enough not to be obvious, but enough to draw attention to herself. "Hello, Sir," she said with a thick American accent and a honey-sweet voice that didn't sound like it should belong to her. "So very nice to meet you." She turned as if to lead the non-existing man somewhere, showing the newly developed curves of her buttocks to the mirror, looking over her shoulder invitingly. "Would you like me to show you around?"

Teacher clapped her hands. "Very good, Natasha. I can tell you will go far."

Natasha snapped back out of her reverie, coming back to herself. She grimaced and turned from the mirror, not liking the sight of herself right now.

Identify how they wish to see you, she thought to herself. But it occurred to her she had no idea how Barnes wished to see her. She wasn't even sure what he needed. He said he needed a rough fucking, but for all she knew that was actually terrible for his recovery.

Her thoughts were cut short by the piercing ring of her cellphone. She was surprised she even had coverage here. It was Barnes' name on the screen. Damn, that boy had interesting timing. She picked up, slightly annoyed, but she found that the moment he spoke, she actually liked hearing his voice.

"Hey Natasha, am I disturbing you?"

"No...just thinking of creative ways to torture you, actually."

There was a brief silence.

"That's...kind of you, I guess. I'm sorry, this is coming out wrong. I wanted to talk to you about that, actually."

"Not getting cold feet are you?"

"Is that a hint you're planning to dunk me in icewater?"

Now she was the one to be briefly silent.

"Relax, that was a joke."

She breathed a sigh of relief. Good.. He was able to joke about it, at least. Though she was sure that was one huge defense mechanism.

"Careful, dear, you might give me ideas."

"Yeah, that's the thing. Maybe we should talk, you know. About ideas. Before I'm naked on your floor?"

He had a point, of course. She had meaning to have that talk to him, but she'd been putting it off. She knew this would be tricky. How would she even define consent with someone who really had no choice? How would they separate who they were as people, as teammates, from what they were about to do?

"Alright, good. Are you free tonight?"

"I'm always free, Natasha. It's not that I have an overwhelming social life."

"Okay, let's have dinner. My treat, okay?"

"Romanoff, are you trying to woo me before you bend me over?"

"Don't you wish, Barnes. Be ready at 7."

"Aye Aye, Ma'am".

Dammit, she thought. He was nice. He was nice and he was funny, and that would make all this so much harder.

I enjoy this story so much

I'm so happy you do <3

yesss amazing amazing amazing

Thank you! You're too kind <3

How would she even define consent with someone who really had no choice? Good question, Nat! :D

Loving this!

Ah, you're the anon who's into consent issues, yes? I'll try to put some of that in there <3

DA but I just laughed out loud at the idea of there being only one anon like that

I remember another anon (or you) making a point about commenting on it, so that's why!

(ayrt) Ahaha consent issues are my favorite. :D But as the previous commenter said, I have a feeling I'm in good company. ;)

Ha, as I said to other anon, I think one of you commented about it before, and it stuck!

Oof, this is so good...

Thank you <3

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Re: Tainted Touch 5b/?

Re: Tainted Touch 5b/?

Re: Tainted Touch 5b/?

Re: Tainted Touch 5b/?

Re: Tainted Touch 5b/?

Re: Tainted Touch 5b/?

Re: Tainted Touch 5b/?

Re: Tainted Touch 5b/?

Re: Tainted Touch 5b/?

Re: Tainted Touch 5b/?

Re: Tainted Touch 5b/?

Re: Tainted Touch 5b/?

Re: Tainted Touch 5b/?