hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #2: ...'Cause a Hydra Trash Party don't stop

Dumpster #2: ...'Cause a Hydra Trash Party don't stop

Unholy hell-miracle achieved! Welcome to Bad Guys Do Bad Things To Your Faves 2: Electric Boogaloo. AKA the seamy sexual-violence-and-violent-sex underbelly of Captain America fandom, 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] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by

greenkirtle)] [Round 2 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

Round 2 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 3.

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(Da) You definitely stuck the landing, and stuck it good. As much as I've been dreading the inevitable moment of "crap, my fave fic is no longer updating" AND no matter how bad I want to see how these two crazy kids get this scene back on track and where it goes, I recognize that from a literary point of view, you ended it at the perfect place. More wouldn't really add anything, story wise, it would just be more jerk off fodder for us trashbabies.

Thank you!

I loved this update! I really enjoy that you've given us an insight into Sam's head after his encounter with Bucky, and that we get to see how shaken up he was and continues to be. He's beginning to understand Bucky's headspace, so... hopefully they'll be able to actually provide a safe, comforting environment for Bucky soon.

I'm both looking forward to further parts and heartbroken that this is near the end. :( I neeeeed Steve's reaction when Sam comes to him with this! It's going to be awful!

Hah, that would probably be a mess with just the two of them talking, but alas, Bucky has other plans.

Just two more chapters, so I'm seizing my last chance to increase the trashiness of this story a bit. ;)

Aw, thanks! As for happy and safe environments – this one is going to have a twist, because... well. I'm not saying I wrote 13 chapters of angst overload just for worldbuilding reasons, but the porn-heavy sequel with Bucky rediscovering his sexuality through disturbingly trashy hotwrong fantasies is still very much the plan.

Thank you! :D :D :D

I think at one point I was considering doing the awkward-morning-after tag with Steve and Natasha, but, yeah. This is the end of Steve and Bucky's story.

YOU HAVE MY ATTENTION

Y E S

I wrote a sequel, which you can find here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4041775

<3 bless u good anon <3

Stoic Natasha getting patched up by Steve after a mission goes wrong. She was nabbed and roughed up by Hydra agents at some point during the proceedings, and she hides the extent of her injuries until they get to safety and then collapses. Steve has to take care of the first aid Because Reasons (maybe she's got hand or wrist injuries making it hard to stitch herself up with any kind of dexterity?), and while he's sewing up a nasty wound on her upper thigh, he sees smears of blood and semen everywhere and realizes she's also been raped. Trying to conceal it/spare him the knowledge was one of the reasons she was downplaying her injuries.

Steve is aghast, Natasha is just disgusted and horribly, revealingly weary of the whole thing--it's not the first time and it probably won't be the last. But it is the first time she's had someone there trying to comfort her afterwards. She's not sure what to do with that or what she wants, she's extra-cautious about letting any of her walls down, and it hurts to allow any cracks in her unemotional "well, that sucked, but I'm fine and I can handle it" approach. Eventually she and Steve just cuddle the crap out of each other, because it turns out she's long-term starved for friendly touch with no ulterior motives.

+ Natasha is matter-of-fact about the slightly gross physical exposure and all the obvious aspects of what happened to her, but eventually she lets Steve glimpse her complicated guilt/shame over something unexpected or even counterintuitive.
++ She used the rapists' gloating and power-tripping to extract priceless intel from them along the way, and has conflicted feelings about to what extent she actually had power over the situation.
+++ This is weirdly specific and unbearably fluffy, but when Natasha finally hits the shower, she invites Steve along, and he soaps her back for her and rubs her shoulders and listens to her mutter incoherently about how done she is with everything.

This sounds amazing. I don't usually read fic about women but if women characters were written more like this, I would read about them all the time.

I want to clarify because that sounded weird. I like stories about stoicism. I really like this prompt because women usually aren't written being stoic this way and it would be cool to read this story about Natasha instead of Steve or Bucky like usual.--same anon

omg, you're writing more! Please write more!

(shrieks in panic because of initial anonfail A N y WA Y)

iii.

All Steve can think in the aftermath of this latest failure is, Don’t make things weird.

He totally makes things weird.

Overcompensating by initiating all kinds of platonic contact with Bucky so that Bucky doesn’t feel uncared for, then panicking and retreating when things become too intimate.

“Did I do something wrong?” Bucky finally asks one evening, absentmindedly twirling strings of spaghetti around the prongs of his fork but never actually raising it to his mouth to eat.

Steve damn near winces, because of course Bucky has noticed his weird behaviour and of course he’s blaming himself for it. The fact that he’s so sure it’s because of something he’s done, despite the total lack of evidence suggesting as much, is heartbreaking proof of how vulnerable he still is to a very specific breed of self-blame, an insidiously quiet kind that manifests itself as a seemingly innocuous overapologeticness and willingness to please.

“Nothing, Buck,” Steve says tiredly. “Nothing at all.”

His halfhearted reassurances do not have their intended effect of settling Bucky’s nerves; rather, Bucky surprises Steve by erupting into frustration.

“Lemme guess then,” he says, each word sounding like something foul being spat out, “ ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ ”

Steve winces. “Well... If you mean that as in that's what I'm saying, then... Yeah. And I know how it sounds –”

“It sounds like it’s your problem, but that I’m a part of that problem. So even if it really is you, not me... it’s still me.”

“It’s...” Steve starts to say, but then realises he has nothing to follow up with, so he switches gears and promises, “I’m workin’ on it.”

Bucky fixes him with unreadable stare for a long time before he gives a minute nod and finally takes a bite of his spaghetti.

+

So it’s back to the drawing board.

Once again, Steve discovers he has no problem getting off when it’s just him and his hand and his safe blank brain, so at least he knows it’s possible. He’s also noticed that his problems usually start when Bucky is in a situation where Steve could be replaced by a HYDRA agent and things arguably wouldn’t turn out much differently. Maybe the trick is to flip everything over on its head.

Emboldened by having a gameplan, Steve no longer waits in anticipatory dread for the next time Bucky might try to go farther than kissing; hell, he even starts to exercise his newly-granted privileges of being able to kiss Bucky without asking first. Ninety-nine percent of the time there aren’t any problems, but Steve does end up a little rattled one day when he accidentally triggers Bucky by using both hands and a too-strong grip to guide Bucky’s face towards his own. To his credit, Steve doesn’t react with the usual panic and over-apologising that tend to be his automatic go-to responses to something like this, he just holds Bucky until he stops trembling, then goes to write the incident down in a little notebook and they both move on, as they always do.

+

Steve decides there’s no better time to test out his new strategy when he wakes up on a lazy Sunday morning - after apparently having drastically rearranged himself on the bed overnight, because he’s damn near horizontal on the mattress, feet hanging off the edge, and the first thing he sees when he opens is eyes is Bucky’s morning wood jutting out of his sweatpants.

Steve shimmies further up onto the bed so that he’s at eye-level with Bucky and he whispers, “Buck? Y’awake?”

“I am now, you asshole,” Bucky replies with a yawn as he rolls onto his back, keeping his eyes closed as he stretches his entire body, so lithe and catlike, just pure uncoiled muscle, and no Steve is totally not staring, except for the part where he is definitely staring, especially staring at the tented area of Bucky’s pants.

“You want me to take care of that?” Steve asks, except most of the words come out stuck together, so it’s more Yawanme t’takecare’athat? It’s actually hugely embarrassing, because Steve thought he’d gotten over this giggling nervousness a long time ago, and besides, he usually reserves feeling this flustered for when he’s making a fool out of himself around strangers – Bucky should not be able to induce this kind of a reaction.

Then again, Steve thinks he might kind of like it. He never had the whole butterflies-in-your-stomach falling in love experience with Bucky because they’d known each other their whole lives. It wasn’t so much a heady headfirst tumble as it was a leisurely advance that just seemed to make sense - a natural and inevitable evolution.

Right now, though, Steve can feel a certain thrill to the tips of his toes. They could be blushing teenagers, sloppy and shy, high on each other’s body heat and the exhilaration of feeling like you’ve discovered something that had never been done before.

He’s feeling so scattered right now that he almost forgets he’d asked Bucky a question until Bucky replies with a broad grin, “Sure, big guy. Take care of me.”

Those four single-syllable words sink into Steve like a harpoon. He’s been waiting to hear them for so long – a lot longer than just this past year and a half of living with Bucky. After leaning so heavily on Bucky throughout their entire childhood and adolescence, all Steve wanted to do was to be able to pay him back in kind, except he couldn’t imagine what the hell a hundred-pound barely-unemployed chronically ill punk like himself could possibly do for someone like Bucky.

When he stepped out of that vita ray chamber in 1943, he finally felt like he had something to offer, but that illusion was shattered after Bucky was taken. Sure, his body had been the means by which Steve had been able to physically free Bucky from HYDRA’s prison, but his muscles and size and reflexes were next to useless when it came to providing Bucky with what he needed once all the cuts and bruises had faded away to nothing.

What people don’t seem to realise is that the train incident wasn’t the first time that Steve had failed Bucky. No, Steve had been letting Bucky down for a long time before that, and would unknowingly continue to do so for an even longer time after – seventy years, to be exact.

He knows it’s ridiculous to be extrapolating all this from what is supposed to be a simple wake-up blowjob, so Steve resolutely buries down everything he’d been thinking and moves to focus on what needs to be done.

“You want my mouth or my hand?” he asks Bucky, already starting to stroke Bucky over his pants with a couple teasingly light fingers.

Bucky’s hips shudder as Steve rubs him with a firmer hand.

“Anything,” he breathes, “Any–ahhh–th-thing, as long as it’s you. I just... Just want y-you.”

The hoarse desperation in Bucky’s voice is almost enough to make Steve’s dick start to stir within his own pants; sometimes he finds more pleasure in watching himself get Bucky off instead of the other way around, and if this is the show that Bucky is going to be putting on for him right now then Steve doubts he’ll need much more.

He slides Bucky’s sweatpants down – he’s not wearing anything underneath – and he lowers his face into Bucky’s lap as if he’s kneeling in prayer. Indeed, Bucky’s body is the closest thing to holy ground to him, he wants nothing more than to worship it with every ounce of devotion in his blood, to drink in all its agonies and ecstasies, memorise each stigmatic scar and never again let its sacred walls be breached.

Steve quickly loses himself in the almost reassuringly repetitive motion of his head bobbing up and down, his hand working rhythmically on what his throat cannot reach. Nothing else exists right now except for the sensation of hot hard flesh between his lips and the tiny, almost stunned-sounding oh– ohhh’s coming from Bucky that are enough to make Steve practically fully hard.

When Bucky comes, shuddering, gasping, exquisite, what doesn’t end up getting swallowed is left trickling from the corner of Steve’s lips and he moves to kiss Bucky but Bucky violently jerks away.

Steve freezes, fearing the worst.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says immediately, hanging his head, his words perforated with humiliation, “I just– the taste, I can’t... I don’t know w-why, precome’s fine for some reason, but–”

“Hey,” Steve cuts in gently, “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain. I’m glad you told me so I know for next time.”

He grabs a tissue from the box on the nightstand and has just barely finished wiping his lips off when suddenly Bucky is surging up from his previous reclined angle on the pillows and capturing Steve’s mouth in his own. Steve makes an undignified squeak in response before he recovers enough to wrap an arm around Bucky’s waist, pulling him in closer.

The next thing Steve knows, his cock is being tugged out from his pants and underwear and engulfed by the warmth and friction of Bucky’s flesh hand. He lets out another embarrassing sound that’s muffled against Bucky’s skin as he buries his face in Bucky’s shoulder and struggles to lift his hips enough to thrust into Bucky’s fist; the way they’re positioned on the bed makes it an awkward and mostly unsuccessfully endeavour, but it only takes a few more strokes before he’s coming, spilling over Bucky’s hand and splattering onto both of their pants.

“Jesus,” Steve says once he’s caught his breath, slumping bonelessly forward onto Bucky.

“Blasphemer,” Bucky replies lazily.

He drops back into the pillows, letting Steve sink down onto him.

Steve feels like jelly, wrecked by an oddly satisfying combination of exhaustion and relief, though the latter is admittedly a little more than just a physiological response to what just happened. It’s the same guilt-wracked gratitude he’d experienced that first time he’d jacked off in the shower right after the initial mishap with Bucky – an overwhelming, almost visceral sentiment of thank god, everything is going to be okay.

+

Everything is okay. For a little while, at least. Steve is able to fully enjoy Bucky’s deft mouth and clever fingers without any further complications, though he’s always exceptionally vigilant when receiving oral from Bucky, mindful of all the precautions that need to be taken – no hands in Bucky’s hair; hips kept as still as possible as not to force himself further down Bucky’s throat than he’s comfortable with; a stuttered warning before he’s about to come so that Bucky can draw away and finish him off with his hand.

When things go wrong again, it’s Steve’s fault.

Steve and his stupid big mouth, Steve who can no longer contain the force of seventy years of yearning inside him, Steve who mumbles into the crook of Bucky’s neck as they’re in bed rutting their bodies up against each other, “Make love to me, Buck.”

Bucky’s once-frantic movements on top of him suddenly still.

“Oops,” Steve says stupidly, but Bucky just rolls off of him and laughs, and if frost-stripped trees made a sound when they grew their springtime leaves back, that would be it.

“You’re such a cornball sometimes, Steve,” Bucky says, eyes bright with a roguish affection as he turns onto his back, looking expectant.

Steve stares dumbly at him for a long time.

“Ah, I see how it is,” Bucky grumbles, “You’re gonna make me do all the work, huh?”

There is more speechless gaping on Steve’s part as Bucky sighs dramatically and sits back up, reaching into the nightstand drawer for some lube, which he squirts onto his flesh hand.

“Oh,” Steve stammers, his heart a firecracker inside his chest, “R-right. Okay.”

He grabs a pillow, settles it under his ass as he lies down on his back, and spreads his legs, still not quite able to believe that they’re really going to do this, that they’re both in a place where it’s finally possible.

Bucky, however, gives him a funny look.

“Steve,” he says, slowly, like he’s talking to someone who might not be the brightest bulb in the box, “I think you’ve got things backwards...”

Steve frowns, not quite understanding what Bucky means, before things finally fall into place and his eyes widen in spite of himself.

“You mean you– oh. Oh...! Are you... are you sure?”

Bucky rolls his eyes in that half-fond, half-exasperated way that he does when Steve is being a little ridiculous.

“Does this really seem like the kind of thing I’d ask for if I wasn’t sure?” he points out. “Besides, this is the way it always was, wasn’t it?”

“Well, yeah,” Steve concedes, “But... I just thought that...”

He trails off awkwardly, realising he’s kind of dug himself into a hole. He can’t tell Bucky what he thought because what he thought was that he’s surprised Bucky is okay with bottoming when he only has terrifying, agonising memories associated with the act. This was exactly what Bucky had told Steve he was afraid of in ashamed, frustrated mumbles one particularly difficult night when Steve was still learning how to navigate his way around Bucky’s body – he didn’t want to exist only in the shadow of what had happened to him, hated the idea of Steve not being able to think about anything else when he touched him.

Steve just can’t help it. Not when Bucky still wakes up in a cold sweat some nights or goes tense whenever a stranger gets too close. Not when he knows the pain that Bucky continues to carry in unplaceable parts of his anatomy because of what people both careless and cruel had done to him.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Bucky says quietly after a moment, and not for the first time Steve can’t tell whether he’s more comforted or unnerved by the fact that there’s someone in this world who knows him this well, “But it’s not like that, I promise. It’s not the same thing, it’s not even close. I... I understand why you might think certain things about this, and we can do it the other way around if you really want to, but... god, Steve, I really want it like this. I want to... to be able to give myself to someone, for once. All of myself. Willingly. Instead of them just taking it.”

Steve wraps a tiny sob in what he hopes passes for a laugh.

“Now who’s the cornball?” he asks, but he leans in to kiss Bucky deeply to show him that he felt every one of his words right down to the bone.

Bucky tilts backwards, slightly off-balance because with one hand all slick with lube he can only support himself with his other arm, then simply lets himself fall so that he ends up on his back again, with Steve settled in between his legs.

Steve props the pillow under Bucky’s ass, then applies some lube to his hole before he takes Bucky’s flesh hand and guides it down, letting Bucky start things off himself. His breathing becomes more and more audible in the silence of the room as he watches Bucky finger himself, almost excruciatingly slowly, and Steve is torn between wanting to plunge himself inside that tight pulsing heat or simply being content to watch this for the rest of his life.

Bucky eventually removes his hand and peers up at Steve as an unspoken go-ahead to take his place. It takes all of Steve’s willpower to keep himself from asking Bucky if he’s okay every five seconds, though it’s an effort admittedly made a little easier by the decidedly distracting sensation of Bucky clenching around his fingers, his thighs trembling slightly, head thrown back against the mattress baring the graceful arch of his throat. The preparation is an extremely lengthy and thorough process, but seeing Bucky spread out before him like this, allowing himself to be this vulnerable, is so incredibly sensual that Steve stays hard the entire time despite only giving himself a couple strokes every few minutes.

He’s not quite sure how long this goes on for before his world condenses to a single pinprick point in the universe when he hears Bucky’s breathless voice murmuring that he’s ready.

Steve feels as if his very insides are trembling as he lines himself up, finding it hard to tear his eyes away from Bucky’s face in order to see what he’s doing, and pushes in ever so slowly. Bucky is so tense that it’s an almost painfully tight squeeze despite the extensive preparation and generous amount of lube, and Steve frowns. He looks down to see that Bucky is still hard, but his eyes are squeezed shut and his arms are stiff at his sides, hands curled into white-knuckled fists in the sheets.

“Buck,” Steve says softly, and is met with blown-pupil blue as Bucky opens his eyes, “Easy, Buck. Try to relax. D’you... Should I stop?”

Bucky closes his eyes again and takes a deep, quivering breath before he shakes his head in a tiny but resolute movement.

Steve swallows hard. He nods even though Bucky can’t see him and resumes his careful movement forward, thankful to be met with less resistance as Bucky loosens up ever so slightly.

Still, the sensation of having to push into an unyielding space makes Steve think back to a very specific document in HYDRA’s files, a complaint that the tech team had filed when the Asset had been returned to them all torn up inside. It wasn’t that they were concerned about Bucky’s treatment as much as it was a matter of them being annoyed at having to stitch him up before sticking him into cryo because the bleeding hadn’t stopped on its own in time. A memo went out after that – not a cease and desist order, but rather preparation instructions and a list of objects that were forbidden from being used on the Asset when he was loaned out for ‘recreation.’

Once again, the erratic heat in Steve’s belly is doused by a drenching sickness, a near-delirium of horror and sadness and rage that usually serves to get Steve even more pumped-up but right now is simply sucking all the life out of him. He looks down at Bucky again, taking in his flushed face and parted lips, and all the things that were once signs of desire are suddenly now the opposite, reminders of all the people who, like Bucky had said, had taken what was not being given. The objective part of Steve’s mind knows that right now Bucky is nothing if not completely willing to surrender every part of himself to him, but the message gets lost somewhere between his brain and his feelings and to his horror he can feel himself going soft, making it impossible to go any further, and he wasn’t even all the way in yet.

His cock slides out of Bucky, causing him to open his eyes and crane his neck slightly as if trying to see what was going on.

“Too slippery,” Steve lies quickly, curling a hand around himself and desperately jerking himself off in a losing battle to regain his hard-on. “Hold on, just... gimme a moment...”

Bucky gives him a moment. Gives him several, in fact. When it becomes clear that Steve isn’t going to be getting back to him any time soon, he sits up and fixes Steve with a bit of a perplexed look.

Steve lowers his eyes. At this point he isn’t sure if it even has anything to do with thinking about Bucky’s abuse anymore; it may be a purely psychological thing where he’s convinced himself that he won’t be able to get it up, so he doesn’t. He sure hopes that’s what the problem is.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, his voice small in a way that only ever leads to unpleasant things.

Steve releases the futile hold on his dick and makes a distinctly frustrated sound as he pounds a fist into the mattress.

“I’m sorry,” he babbles, “I don’t know what’s happening... Something– something’s wrong but I don’t know what, and it’s not you, I swear, I just... Fuck. Fuck!”

Bucky is quiet for a long time before he says with an almost childlike bewilderment, “I thought... I thought you were attracted to me.”

Steve can’t keep himself from staring at him in shock, which he regrets the moment that Bucky appears to shrink into himself in response.

“I don’t blame you if you’re not, though,” Bucky says, his words tinged with a heartbreaking resignation. “You know sometimes when I get out of the shower I keep my head down because I can’t stand the sight of myself in the bathroom mirror?”

“Bucky, no, that's not what this is about,” Steve chokes out, because this has gotten so much worse so quickly and he knows that if he doesn’t get a handle on the situation fast then it’s going to get away from him. Bucky is speaking to him in that deadened, detached tone that he often uses when he’s talking about something painful, as if he won’t be able to feel it if he makes himself sound like a machine.

“So,” Bucky continues, ignoring Steve, “I do get where you’re coming from. And I won’t hold it against you.”

“It’s not like that,” Steve says desperately. “Bucky, I– you’re the most beautiful person in the entire world to me. Nothing turns me on like you do, or even just like the thought of you. Do you even know how many times I got off imagining this? Fantasising about it, thinking it’d never actually be real? I’m so attracted to you that it’s probably actually kind of creepy.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Bucky asks, seeming genuinely confused. “I mean, I guess it’s just kind of weird to me because, like... The HYDRA agents thought I was disgusting too, but they still always managed to get it up.”

His voice is plain and toneless and matter-of-fact and Steve feels all the colour drain out of his face before he bolts out of the room and everything he’d eaten that morning ends up down the kitchen drain.

;____________________;

ouch.

yes this exactly.

;________;

this fic is SO hard to read. I am DYING for Bucky (and Steve). The line that walloped me most in this one was Bucky's about averting his eyes from the mirror because he finds himself disgusting -- also about the Hydra agents finding him disgusting but managing to get it up anyway. !!! ow! so much pain!

Alright, Bucky comes in from the cold, he thinks his new social circle is actually new handlers, he ends up offering sexual favors. What if this time, someone took him up on it?

Not an Avenger (this is not a dark!good guys prompt), but anyone else, let's say, like... one of his lawyers, one of his doctors, a cook, because he thinks that's what he has to do to be awarded extra food. So then Bucky is engaged in this ongoing skeevy sexual relationship, even while he's surrounded by people who keep insisting he's safe now.

+ for Steve's rage and self-blame when he realizes someone's been taking advantage of Bucky right under his nose

woah how's the weather in hell satan

(by which I mean +1)

oh, it's hot and sticky down here, the usual

oh, GOD. i thought it couldn't get worse than when bucky said he couldn't look in the mirror sometimes. but then that LAST BIT. GAH. hurting for both our boys, but man this is such a great fill.

Not OP but bonus points if multiple people take advantage of him? Like the lawyer cause he thinks then they'll fastrack any legal stuff he needs done. Or the doctor cause that's what he did to make the doc keep small secrets like inappropriate bodily responses. Or a therapist, the last one kept forbidden thoughts secret, in exchange for favors of course.

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Page 107 of 222

Dumpster #2: ...'Cause a Hydra Trash Party don't stop

Re: FILL: Lamb and Martyr, 18c/18

Re: [Fill] "I Did It Looking There in the Mirror" The Winter Soldier wants to hurt Steve [2.5/3]

Re: Windmills, Fill 11/13 (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

Re: Windmills, Fill 11/13 (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

Re: Windmills, Fill 11/13 (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

Re: FILL: Lamb and Martyr, 18c/18

Re: Windmills, Fill 11/13 (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

Re: Windmills, Fill 11/13 (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

[Sequel link] "Dear, Have You Ever Understood?" The Winter Soldier wants to hurt Steve [1/1]

Re: Windmills, Fill 11/13 (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

Natasha & Steve, h/c

Re: Natasha & Steve, h/c

Re: Natasha & Steve, h/c

Re: Windmills, Fill 11/13 (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

FILL: vibrations in an empty room [3a/?]

FILL: vibrations in an empty room [3b/?]

Re: FILL: vibrations in an empty room [3b/?]

Re: FILL: vibrations in an empty room [3b/?]

Re: FILL: vibrations in an empty room [3b/?]

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Re: FILL: vibrations in an empty room [3b/?]

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