Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

[trashmod]

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.

Comments

Re: Tainted Touch 5c/?

[(Anonymous)]

I don't know what this story is anymore ;)

Thanks to Russian!anon for the help. Hope it looks like it should!

This has gotten so big, and it might deviate from the original prompt a bit (though I'll try to keep it in check) - if OP is still reading, hope that's okay. Split in two with part (d because size, but they're supposed to be one chapter thematically.


---

He had tormented himself over how to prepare for this. He had told Steve that he was taking up Natasha on her offer to talk , which he felt sort of bad about, but functionally it was a good lie. One of those lies that had enough truth in them for people not to be suspicious.

He had looked up more about this BDSM thing online, things about safewords and safe, sane and consensual - but there was a lot of stuff that seemed to contradict itself, too.

When he read about fantasies or real-life accounts - which felt almost like prying, even though they were posted in public - what struck him was that the submissive party was so often really into it. He didn't quite get that - these people had a choice, why would they choose it? But he was hardly in a place to judge anyone. He figured the experience would be different for him, but the rules would be functional enough.

He showered, trimmed as requested, and cleaned himself out by command. It still got him hard every time, and he still hated it, though he supposed it would have its purpose from now on.

He wasn't quite sure what one should wear to these occasions. He dismissed a few options as either too formal or too casual, until he settled on new dark blue jeans and a red henley with a leather jacket. He put on gloves, not to draw any attention, and decided this would have to do. This 21st century fashion thing was still confusing for him. He had cared about how he looked when going out a great deal, before the war, but those rules no longer applied in this world. He'd be overdressed and would stand out. Then as the Soldier, he only wore what he was told, which was mostly functional. He was genuinely baffled by what passed as presentable nowadays, and had no idea what one would wear to the date - but he took comfort in the fact this actually wasn't one.

It would be...a negotiation of sorts, he figured. Which was good. He never was able to negotiate this before, he just had to submit to it.

He tried to practice it in the mirror - telling her the things he needed. They never came out right, and his words sounded both silly and vulgar to him when he actually tried - so instead he took a piece of paper and wrote it down.


-anal and oral penetration (preferably without preparation)
-verbal humiliation (calling me names and telling me I want it)
-physical pain (anywhere, but better if in erogenous zones)
-choking and/or depriving oxygen
-making me cry
-forced orgasms (or denying orgasms)
-making me obey you
-treating me as an object
-taking your pleasure regardless of my comfort.

He was sure there were a few more, but that would keep her occupied for a while. He folded the paper and slipped it in his inner pocket, making sure no prying eyes could see it.

She arrived at 7 p.m. sharp, dressed in black and armed with a smile. He recognized the jacket as the one he'd kept wrapped around him just a few weeks prior.

"Are you ready to do this, James Buchanan Barnes?" she asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he replied.

He was no car outside, and instead she walked him over to a motorcycle. He wondered if this was a test, to see how he'd react, or if she just felt like taking the damn thing instead of a car.

"I like it," he said.

She smirked, and that might have been smugness on her face. "Thought you might."

She hopped on, and he climbed behind her.

"Hold on tight," she said, that that was a relief, her giving him the explicit permission to touch her, because he never knew how that was with handlers. He knew she wasn't quite a handler, that he should not call her that lest he'd unsettle her - but for practicality's sake, it was useful for him to think in those terms. He locked his arms around her waist, and clung to her as she raced across town.

He rather loved the freedom of motorcycles, and he was always happy when people would let him have stolen touches, even if unaware. This was good. This was a good beginning.

The place was slightly out of town, and hardly looked like a restaurant from the outside. The inside was warm and crowded, with several loud conversations going on at once. There was was an older, corpulent man with a white mustache that matched his unruly hair standing at the counter, conversing with a blonde waitress. He wore a black vest over a white shirt that had food stains on the right sleeve, but he seemed to pay it no mind. When he spotted them, a smile formed on his face and he ran up to them.

"Natasha, darling, so good to see you! It has been too long."

"You know I had to come back sooner or later, Ivan, I missed your cooking."

The man laughed jovially, then sized up Bucky. "And who is this then - business or pleasure? Он твой парень или очередной твой приятель-киллер?"

""два в одном," Natasha replied with her best smile, and Bucky could feel himself blush, especially as some of the quests seemed to have overheard.

"You are still quite something, my dear! So, one of the upstairs tables then?"

"If you'd be so kind."

They were led upstairs where it was less crowded and noisy. There were 8 tables, but they were all located in something of an alcove, giving each table privacy from the other. No other tables were taken, though, and they seemed to have the upstairs room to themselves. It was a pleasant setting - a gingham red-and white tablecloth adorned the table, and the white walls of the alcove were decorated with with little square mosaics here and there.

"You get settled. I'll be back back in a while," Ivan said cheerfully.

He leaned to Natasha and half-whispered "Он красавец", but Bucky could still hear, and this time he turned a deeper shade or red.

Ivan left, and Bucky fumbled with the menu.

"I take it he doesn't know I understand Russian."

She grinned. "Probably not."

"He thinks we're sleeping together, you know."

"Of course he does. Is that so bad? There's several men downstairs who are now very jealous of you. Trust me, I saw them look."

He didn't quite know how to react to that, but he felt a little pride well up inside. Maybe even if it couldn't be, he liked to pretend - he liked the idea of at least looking desirable, looking like he was enough to please her.

She must have known what he was thinking, because she added: "Enjoy your victories, Barnes - however small - lord knows you didn't have enough of them. Besides, if tonight goes well, we sort of will be sleeping together, now won't we?".

Yeah, that was still strange to think about. It wouldn't be regular sex, and it wouldn't be a relationship but she was right. In the broad sense of the word, they would be sleeping together - engaging in sexual activity at least. There was really nothing about his upbringing that could have prepared him for this. There was nothing about his Hydra training that did, either, now that he thought of it. They'd have to figure this out from scratch.

There was a part of him that really liked the idea, but another wondered if it would be worse with a beautiful woman. The good news was that he wouldn't have to let strange men put their hands on him anymore. The bad news was that like this he would be reminded of all the things he couldn't have anymore every time he would be with her.

"You don't mind, then? People knowing, that is." he finally asked.

"Well, I'd cautiously suggest not to tell the other Avengers, not until we actually know how it works out, at least."

He nodded. Yeah, it was one thing to humor him in front of faceless, nameless strangers who didn't know the details of their arrangement. Having their friends know the savory details...well, he could see why she wouldn't want that any more than he did.

He reached in his pocket and scraped his throat. He handed the folded paper to Natasha.

"I...made a list. Maybe it's helpful."

She looked at the paper and he couldn't quite read her face.

"They're the things that are likely to arouse me," he said as calmly as he could. "Most of them are not strictly necessary, but I will need some combination of pain and sex for it to work."

"Hmm, and safewords - just the classic green, orange, red?"

"I have no negative connotations to those words, so I guess. Though I might reach a point where I'm unable to use them. For the sake of honesty."

"Good to know," she said, while still studying his list, and he still couldn't guess what she was thinking. It could be annoyance, but it might as well be sarcasm.

They were startled by footsteps. It was Ivan coming up with two plates. He sat them down in from of him and Natasha. "Enjoy, children! This is the one with extra beer in the sauce. House special!"

Natasha's mouth corners looked like they were fighting a smile as she tried to quickly fold the paper again with a slight of hand.

There was a twitch in his pants, and he wasn't quite sure why, but he figured it was the idea of getting caught. He could feel his face flush and his blood run cold at the same time.

"Call me if you need anything else," Ivan added as he took off again.

She looked at him in a strange way - thinking, calculating, like a predator contemplating to pounce.

"So goulash by default then?" he asked to relieve the tension.

"Trust me, it's the only thing worth having."

"What's the story here anyway?"

"Ivan here was a physicist who defected in the cold war. He used to cook up chemical weapons, now he's retired and cooks goulash. Life is funny that way. I made sure he can do so peacefully."

He thought that would have diverted her attention, but she was barely done talking or he felt her foot settle on his crotch. He gasped in surprise.

"Hmm, getting caught is not enough for an erection then, but enough to get the little guy to notice," she said casually as she stuffed some food in her mouth. Her calling it little guy sent another jolt of arousal through him. He was perplexed and felt his face flushing again, but he made no attempt to stop her.