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

XD I'm sorry about your face, but thank you very much!

Ooh, I like this!

Oh sweet jesus, you are absolutely killing me with this fill already.

this is wonderful stuff and the way you write it, it makes so much sense that this would happen! ouch

Nnnnngh this is AMAZING. AWFUL AND AMAZING. <3

YOUR WRITING IS SO SKILLFUL AND REALISTIC

He just stays away because Steve’s weird about hugs, keeps insisting on putting his arms around him so he can rub Bucky’s back. Probably feeling for how many vertebrae are tangible through Bucky’s back.

When I read this i had a moment of HOLY SHIT because people used to do this to me when I was really fucked-up and wow that hits close to home. I love this fill. You are amazing.

I'm actually in the process of writing a fic like this. Stay hungry trash baby.

Ahhhhhh God this is amazing. OH BUCKY.

Sharon Carter slowly blinked her eyes. Pain exploded from the back of her skull in a burst of sparks and she choked back her vomit. Her vision swam and she closed them again.
There were pertinent questions to be asked.

First, what had happened? That one was easy. She'd been out with girlfriends, Betty was getting married and had wanted to see the Australian male stripper show. She hadn't drank that much though, someone had to have jumped her.

Second, what was her current status? She flexed her hands and stretched out her legs. That one was easy as well. Her hands were tightly bound behind her back, she could barely feel the tips of her numb fingers. Her legs were shackled wide apart on opposite ends of a thick metal bar.

She was missing a shoe. One of her favorites, a red patent leather heel. She was vaguely irritated by the runs in her expensive nylons, what a stupid thing to focus on. But it was something to focus on since her eyes were doing nothing of the sort. Massive concussion.

And lastly, who did this to her? Where was her captor? Was it just one person? She tried to squirm towards the daylight peeking in under the door, how long had she been out? Hours at least.

She squinted her eyes and looked about the shabby motel room. So that was what was so rough against her face, cheap nylon carpet the shade of an over-rip avocado. Sitting up threatened to tear her brain apart, but she whimpered and pushed though the pain only to fail.

"You're on the wrong side, Agent." That voice.

"But, what was that you told me? Oh that's right, that depends on where you're standing." Brock Rumlow laughed, lounging on the bed above her. He leaned over the edge of the bed, lazily twirling a stun baton in his fingers. His formerly handsome face was mottled with red scars. "Guess what sweetheart? By the time I'm done with you, you won't be able to stand anywhere."

"You won't get anything from me," she blustered, trying not to throw up until he at least got within range, "HYDRA is gone. So is SHIELD. You failed."

"Oh, I'm not looking for anything from you, darling. Except a little payback." Brock bounced eagerly on the edge of the bed. "All you had to do was let me launch the Insight. Follow orders. So I thought a little exercise in discipline was in order. Nice that you dressed for the occasion. Love the sequins."

"Fuck you!" Sharon spat. Rumlow planted a booted foot on the spreader bar between her legs, anchoring it to the floor.

"That's the plan, lover. That's the plan." And the stun baton jammed into her thigh, just charged enough to make her wail and flop like a landed trout. "I'll stop when you ask me for it." Another stunning blow. Her eyes felt like they would burst out of her face. "I can keep this up all day." Another. Another. She whimpered and gasped, nearly biting through her own lip.

"I -- bet-- your cock can't!" Sharon gritted out, the thought of rape preferable having her heart stop from the repeated shocks.

Rumlow laughed again, the sound of his zipper made her skin crawl. His rough gloved fingers ran up the inside of her thigh and ripped at the nylons. "I like this better than the pantsuit, Agent." He thrust his fingers inside her panties and combed his fingertips through her pubic curls. "Huh, I thought you'd be shaved. Prissy bitch like you." He said this as casually as if discussing the weather, then shoved a finger inside her. "Looks like you like the rough stuff, honey. You're wet as the Potomac."

Sharon couldn't find words and settled for retching noisily. It seemed to be the appropriate reaction. When she looked back at her attacker, she suddenly hoped for the attention of the stun baton again. A spider gag was dangling from Rumlow's fist, a bag of dildos and rope at his feet. The grin on his contorted face promised that he had planned this for a very, very long time.

"What's the matter, lover? Doesn't this look like fun? Oh, I guess, that depends on where you're standing, doesn't it?"

Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice. If you ever write more of this I am so on board.

also, spreader bars. Mhmm. Amazing, all of it.

Oh god, I can't believe just yesterday I was thinking for some reason about this prompt I left... WOW.

I love you, fellow trash baby.

Not the OP, but I'm ridiculously hungry for this prompt too! So glad to hear it's being filled.

All the trash in my trashcan for this scenario: post-WS!Bucky has to seduce Rumlow for intel.

Bucky's pretty functional and they've been dismantling Hydra, yadda yadda, and then Rumlow pops up on their radar, hiding out somewhere, and all evidence points to his holding some crucial information they desperately need. There seems to be no good way to get it out of him, and then the idea of seduction gets tossed out there, and Bucky's like: Great! I'm his type, and I know exactly what makes him tick. I've slept with him before. Plenty of times.

+ everyone is varying degrees of freaked out about this revelation except Bucky, who is ashamed of what he views as an embarrassing sexual fling but doesn't understand why he's getting these horrified reactions

+ ... and maybe he believes they're horrified at him for sleeping with Hydra agents

+ Bucky insists it was consensual, but would describe it as rape if pressed ("But did you want to have sex with him?" "Yes, duh, the alternative was being tortured, so, obviously")

+ Absolutely no one wants to let Bucky do this, but he's insistent, this is the best way, and he'll be able to get the intel before any sex occurs. After all, he can read and play Rumlow easy as breathing -- because, naturally, he became hyper-attuned to the moods, desires, and intentions of his abusers, and what's better than Bucky trying to normalize his trash trauma and even make it useful for a mission? NOTHING IS BETTER

+ The actual mission goes horrifically wrong -- maybe Bucky actually can't handle it, or Rumlow was on to him, or... there's a whole wide world of trashy possibilities and I'm up for all of them.

Steve wants to touch him.

It’s not sexual, not when Bucky’s awake. Steve doesn’t pin him down the way he does in the dreams. There aren’t any HYDRA agents shoving Bucky over an examination table or mag-cuffing him to a transport bench while he’s conscious now, but if there were, Steve wouldn’t laugh or cheer them on. He wouldn’t slip his fingers in alongside their dicks.

The most Steve ever does is kiss him, sweet and soft and close-mouthed so far. Most of the touches are even less sensual. A hug, an arm over his shoulders, fingers carding through his hair. A hand over his own. He rubs Bucky’s back, his knee, the aching junction where the metal melds into his flesh. Steve is gentle and warm and he never presses for more. He is perfect.

Except.

Except Bucky’s body feels like blown sugar, hairline fractures radiating from the lightest touch.

Except sometimes when Steve hugs him, Bucky doesn’t smell Steve’s detergent. He’s choking on the scent of the disinfectant from HYDRA’s medical labs instead, and the hands on his back feel like they’re sheathed in latex gloves.

Except Bucky remembers that they touched more than this before the war. One day, probably soon, Steve is going to want to touch more again. Everyone says how much better Bucky’s doing. They say it all the time. He wants to be better. To be normal. To touch without breaking. But his heart won’t slow down and his mind keeps slipping back to the dark corners of HYDRA bases.

Bucky won’t let himself flinch. He makes himself smile and lean into every touch of Steve’s. He pretends the contact isn’t like a wave of water over his head, and he must be very good at pretending because Steve never notices he’s drowning, even when Bucky swears he can feel water spilling from his mouth.

He pretends so well that one night, when they’re watching baseball and complaining about the Dodgers relocating to LA—Sam rolls his eyes and tells them to get over it already—he manages to lie down and fall asleep with his head resting on Steve’s lap.

It takes a long time for Bucky to realize he’s sleeping. Most of his dreams are in the ice or labs or just in darkness. This one is in the living room. In the dream, he’s still lying on the couch with his face against Steve’s thigh. The television is still on, but the images go murky and the sound grows indistinct. None of it strikes Bucky as odd until the hand stroking his hair begins to pull it.

When he’s forced to look up, he recognizes the cold smile on Steve’s face.

“So you’ll sleep on me, but you won’t open your damn mouth when I kiss you, huh, Buck?”

Bucky doesn’t speak. He hasn’t been given permission.

“I broke you out of HYDRA’s mind control,” Steve says. Now that Bucky’s looking at him, he isn’t pulling his hair anymore. Instead, he’s petting it again. Somehow that’s worse. “I took you in when you were filthy and worthless and out of your mind. I helped you after you tried to kill me. And you won’t even let me touch you.”

You’re touching me now, he doesn’t say.

“What’s the matter? You always used to be so eager for it.” His hand, still so soft, moves from Bucky’s hair and traces along his lips. “You can’t play the shy virgin now, Buck. Not after you’ve given everyone in HYDRA a free ride. Is that the problem? Can’t get it up without someone kicking dirt in your face? Hell, you should have told me you were into that. I’d have shoved you in the mud and let the Commandos have a go. I could call the Avengers now. I’ll bet Tony and Nat would just love to pay you back. You want that?”

“They hurt—” Bucky stammers. He’s talking back, flinching, but he can’t stop. “They forced—”

“Forced?” Steve doesn’t hit him for speaking without permission. He doesn’t squeeze his throat or pull his hair. He laughs, and it isn’t even a cold laugh. He sounds like he does when Sam makes a joke or someone on television makes a reference Bucky doesn’t understand. “Come on, you could have ended it any time. I’ve seen you in battle. You could have snapped all their necks without breaking a sweat. You’re really going to say they forced you? The only way any of that happened is because you wanted it, you little slut.”

And then Steve’s hands aren’t soft anymore. They’re hard and they’re forcing Bucky’s head back down. Steve’s zipper scrapes against his lips. “You liked it, didn’t you, Buck? You liked being their bitch. Otherwise you wouldn’t be soiling your sheets over the memories.”

“Stop.” Bucky’s eyes are stinging, leaving wet splatters on the denim of Steve’s pants.

“You can’t tell me not to touch you now. You already said I could.” One of Steve’s hands is at the back of Bucky’s neck, pinning him down. The other’s opening his fly. “You said all of HYDRA could, you little traitor. And I think it’s about time for you to start making up for playing whore to the people who tried to kill me.”

“Please.” He closes his eyes, more tears leaking out. And then Steve’s cock is pressing against his lips while his hand is shoving against Bucky’s head, and Bucky can’t fight back. He never did with HYDRA. Who is he to deny Steve?

“Quit complaining. Your mouth’s been in filthier places.”

When Bucky opens his eyes, Steve’s fly is shut. He’s smiling down at Bucky, and his hand is soft again on Bucky’s hair. “Hey, sleepyhead. You’re just in time for the seventh inning str—”

Bucky’s able to blame the takeout when he runs to the bathroom and vomits. Thai’s a new food they’ve introduced him to, untested. Indigestion doesn’t explain why he’s shaking all over, but Steve doesn’t ask though Bucky knows that he wants to.

No one notices the wet stain at the front of Bucky’s jeans. Through his numbness, Bucky’s thankful. That, he has nothing to blame on.

Thank you! For some reason writing this fill is like pulling teeth for me, so I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Bucky Barnes: literal train wreck.

It sucks being the HYDRA bicycle.

Thank you!

I'm glad it seems realistic!

Thanks!

Pierce was grateful. He had made the right call, and he knew it, been willing to follow Hydra's plans because he knew that was the way to success Because he was certain that it was the right thing to do. But, well, their incentives plan wasn't bad either.

He chuckled to himself softly as he unlocked the door to the hotel room he had been given for the night. He was doing well, and soon he was being promoted once again. He was already liasing between SHIELD and the other agencies, diverting and altering what was necessary, and the right people were impressed. Which led to this reward.

The asset was visible when he walked into the room, laying on the bed with his eyes blown wide, utterly naked. It was painfully obvious that the man was frightened, and Pierce could understand why - he'd seen how the other brutes treated him, how they reduced him simply to a pile of agony. He would do so much better. As for his state of undress, well, it was a shame to be deprived of the exquisite pleasure of stripping away his armour and being met with pale scarred skin. That would have to go in the report.

The asset seemed to notice him after a moment, and the paralysing fear gave way to something closer to confusion. He'd been wiped since last time. Shame, Pierce thought to himself as he hung up his jacket, he hated the effort of reteaching these things. Still, in the end it would be worth it.

There was no noise from the other inhabitant of the room as Pierce removed his tie. He walked to stand beside the asset, holding it out. Hesitantly, the man on the bed raised his hands so that Pierce could tie them.
"Good..." Pierce murmured softly, reaching down to stroke the asset's hair until he relaxed. "Do you remember me?"
The asset shook his head. He wouldn't lie, even if it would work in his favour. Pierce sighed dramatically, leaning down so that his lips were resting against the asset's ear.
"You will." He punctuated his promise with a bite, sharp enough to make the figure on the bed draw in a frightened breath. Perfect. He glanced down his body, and saw that his cock was already beginning to swell. The asset's mind not have remembered him, but his body did.

Pierce stood again, moving around and frowning slightly when he noticed that someone had 'considerately' left the asset's ass slick with lube. He supposed that tearing was meant to be avoided, but he was sure he should have been consulted on that. After all, it wasn't the asset's ass that he was interested in. He reached out to run a finger along the asset's cock, making him twitch.
"Easy now..." He murmured, continuing the touches. They were gentle, and that tenderness alone was enough to make the man on the bed moan. "That's it..." He praised, slowly coaxing the asset to full hardness. He'd learned before that if he was too rough at this stage, the asset wouldn't be able to perform, and he had no plans of chasing away his evening's entertainment. Once he was ready, then the real fun could begin.

Another twitch, and the pale beading of liquid at the head of the asset's cock was enough to convince Pierce that the time was right for him to act. He removed his own shirt slowly.
"Watch me." He told the figure, enjoying the chance to make a show of himself, to remove his own pants, and then his boxers. He reached out for the packet of lube, nose crinkling in disgust at the brand. With the work he had done, he felt he deserved something slightly classier. Still, it would do.

Making sure the asset's eyes were fixed upon him, he opened the packet and wet his fingers, moaning at the sensation as he pushed into himself. The asset whimpered beneath his breath, and Pierce moved his hand quicker, before reaching out and brushing his slick hand over the asset's cock. He stroked him quickly, waiting until the asset's hips moved just a fraction, pleading for more. He snatched his hand away.
"Not until I tell you to." He told him clearly. "Or else..." He ran a finger across the asset's balls, knowing how sensitive he was, and smirking as he cringed.

"I think we're both ready now, don't you?" He asked him softly, manoeuvring himself, his hands resting against the headboard as he brushed down against the asset's length. He licked his lips, feeling the familiar pressure against his entrance, before taking a deep breath and guiding himself down a little. He let himself cry out as he slowly worked himself deeper onto him, moaning at the sensation of being filled.

He lowered himself the full distance, groaning at the sensation. He stayed still for a few moments once he was resting against the asset, then lifted himself up once more. It took a few moments for the pace to get right, and a few more for him to find the perfect angle. When he did, he gasped, eyes closing as he took another deep breath, starting to rock against him.

There was recognition in the asset's eyes now, a look of surprise almost as past training kicked into place, and he began to move his hips just a little, bucking them up to meet Pierce as he came down. For a few moments, Pierce let it continue, before he brought his hand down hard on the side of the asset's face.
"Still."

The noise that escaped the asset then was closer to a whine than anything else, but instead of placing his hand back on the headboard Pierce buried it in the asset's hair, tangling his fingers and pulling hard.
"You stay still, do you understand me?" There was no response and Pierce shook him by the hair, still rocking his hips against him. "Do you understand me?"
Wincing at the pain, the asset nodded, and Pierce reached out to untie his hands. Now that he knew he had him aware of who was in charge, he could release him.
"You know what to do."

The asset nodded, his hands reaching back to rest against Pierce's ass. Pierce moaned at the sensation, shivering at the brush of cold metal and starting to move faster. It felt almost unbelievably good. What he was doing with the asset might have been pressing at the rules, but no one was ever going to know, and it felt far too wonderful to stop. He could feel orgasm beginning to build but he fought it off, taking deeper breaths to let the sensation continue longer. His legs were starting to shake, his skin prickled with sweat, but he didn't let that stop him. He wasn't going to slow down.

He looked down, and noted with satisfaction that the asset was biting his own lip, the skin damp and swollen red.
"I mean it." He muttered. "You come before I do, I cut it off."
There was a whimper, and he simply sped up in response.

He moaned out, slumping forwards slightly so his hands rested either side of the asset's head, his breath in gasps. He felt a gentle touch brush against his quivering thigh and snarled.
"Where I put them."

The asset didn't respond, looking up at him in confusion. Even lost in sensation as he was, Pierce nearly swore at the fact the techs had managed to wipe out too much. But the human hand brushed against his cheek, and he shivered as he saw the way the asset was looking at him, like he was worshipping him.
"Steve." The asset breathed, and that was enough. Pierce's hands fastened around the asset's throat, squeezing tighter as he felt himself getting close. The asset was gasping for breath, and Pierce cried out as climax overtook him, spatters of white across the asset's chest, one drop reaching the asset's bitten lip.

Pierce continued to move, rocking still until he had milked out the last few drops of pleasure. He panted, sweating, blinking the hair back from his eyes, and looking down at the asset. He loosened his grip, and smirked.
"Now."

He felt the asset climax on command, the warmth of it filling him, and he smirked, squeezing around him for a moment before lifting off and lying on his stomach on the bed, his legs spread apart to expose his hole.
"Go on then. Clean up." He said, tilting his head and moaning as he felt the asset move down the bed, and a tentative tongue brush against him.

Well, damn. You had me at the bite. Not that everything following that wasn't amazing as well.

Well hnnnggh

02 Bucky

His current codename is Bucky. His new handlers are called friends. Steve, one of the highest ranking friends, only had to correct him once before he’d adapted to the new vocabulary. It seemed an odd choice for a minute, until he remembered that before the handlers, he’d had comrades.

He’s shed his armor and lies in the bathtub. Steve sits behind him on the bathroom floor and shampoos his hair, fingers rubbing soapy circles into his scalp while he’s casually chattering. He’s talking about the rest of the team, how they unwind from the mission.

Steve says that Tony’s down at his workshop, repairing his suit’s dents and cuts. Clint’s asleep on the common room couch, covered in band-aids and Steve hopes Clint’s right when he says it looks worse than it is. His own wounds, well. Steve shrugs almost apologetically.

While he keeps talking, Bucky’s mind drifts off. Steve obviously cares a great deal about the others, that much is clear. Bucky finds he only cares about himself, about the punishment he’s got coming for his earlier transgression.

Steve turns on the water again, and every time Bucky feels hands threading through his hair, he expects their grip to tighten, waits for his throat to be arched back and the gush of water hitting his face. He vividly remembers the sharp pain in his nose, the pressure in his lungs, the panic – even though it’s been years since the last time they made him drown.

Steve likes it when Bucky remembers.

He’s said so repeatedly. So do the doctors that are assigned to make sure Bucky’s brain functions the way SHIELD likes it. Not all of them wear white coats, but Bucky recognizes their lot a hundred miles against the wind. He’s seen plenty in his time, and they always smile at first.

He breaks in cold sweat every time he’s scheduled for a brain scan, worried they’ll find out he’s been lying, but he keeps doing it. They’ve purposely taken away the machines that soothe his mind, and hell if he’s giving them or Steve the satisfaction of knowing that he suffers from it.

In truth, more and more memories resurface each day; clear and sharp like a polished blade. Just the other night he almost panicked for no other reason than the whistling of a kettle, because he was suddenly back at the safe house, that evening he’d made his CO so mad that they burned his genitals with hot water.

"Steve…? Do you think it’s cheating if someone passes out before a punishment is over?"

Steve’s irritated that Bucky’s spoken out of line, but even though there’s anger in Steve’s voice, he’s again not reinforcing the rule. His own fault if his team lacks discipline. If Steve’s too weak for the job, Bucky’s going to exploit it the best he can – sorry Steve, but that’s the way of the world.

Steve agrees that passing out is definitely not cheating. Bucky nods with grim satisfaction and wishes Commander Rumlow could hear that. Wherever he is, Bucky hopes he’s suffering.

Unfortunately, Steve also says that it’s wrong to punish people in ways that make them pass out, so SHIELD probably has experts, people who make sure they cause maximum pain without losing their victims one way or the other. Bucky’s willing to bet his favorite knife that it’s the woman.

He’s getting more and more reckless, and he knows it. At this rate, he’ll find out about SHIELD’s torturers sooner rather than later.

All he can do is wait. Wait, and try to become as indispensable as possible, preferably as a fighter. It’s his strongest suit, anyway – he’ll have to keep reminding them of that fact, even if his initial attempts will result in temporary punishment.

For now, nothing happens, though. Steve merely rinses his hair, not hurting him beyond the fact that he makes sure no water runs down Bucky’s face for him to inconspicuously lap up.

Then, Steve lets go of him again and hands him a washing cloth: "You can do the rest on your own, right?"

Bucky closes his metal hand around the wet cloth, kneading it between his fingers. He’s never sure how much Steve actually doesn’t know about his former handlers’ procedures and how much it just amuses him to play innocent, to watch Bucky struggle for the words he hates.

"How’d you want it?" he finally presses out when it becomes apparent that Steve isn’t going to give him any specifics. "Shall I put on a show? Moan, and all that?"

"Wha – no, Bucky, no, I told you, you don’t have to do that. Not ever, okay?"

Bucky frowns. He misjudged – unfortunate in an isolated case, deadly as a habit. "Sorry. Could have sworn you were one of those who want me to pretend I like it."

He continues silently as ordered, filing the knowledge away for further reference.

-

After the bath, the usual mocking starts: "Are you hungry?" "Do you want food?"

If Steve thinks he can be made to beg that easily, he’s sorely mistaken. Yes, the tower is surveilled around the clock – cameras everywhere and there’s an artificial intelligence keeping watch, hindering Bucky from stealing food while the others are sleeping. Yes, his stomach is in knots at the mere thought of food. Of water. But no, he won’t display any more weakness than he absolutely has to. They are just looking for cracks in his armor, opportunities to dig their claws in.

"Talk to me, Buck. Grab some food or straight to bed?"

Bucky swallows bitterly. It’s one thing to know what’s going to happen and another to be taunted about it. Steve asks directly, though, which he can’t ignore, so he shrugs. "Your decision."

Judging from Steve’s face, the answer isn’t what he’d have liked to hear, but it doesn’t warrant immediate correction either. Instead, Steve decides they’ll join the others for dinner.

For the fraction of a second, Bucky lets himself hope that it was time to be fed again already. He’s not yet used to his new schedule, so maybe… But food’s a reward and he’s certainly not earned one today, so they’ll probably make him sit at the table and watch them eating. He remembers that, too. Maybe they’ll offer him scraps for favors.

Bucky straightens up, promising himself that should they give him a choice, he won’t give in. He’s not that desperate yet.

1) *speechless*
2) THANK YOU.
3) This is a work of genius. You are a genius.
4) The bite. FUCK ME. THE BITE.

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

Re: Windmills, Fill 1/? (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

Re: Sin makes Brock Rumlow her sex slave

Re: [Fill] "So Familiar a Gleam" Dreamed up Evil!Steve and fragile grasp on reality [4/?]

Re: [Fill] "So Familiar a Gleam" Dreamed up Evil!Steve and fragile grasp on reality [4/?]

Re: [Fill] "So Familiar a Gleam" Dreamed up Evil!Steve and fragile grasp on reality [4/?]

Re: Fill: "Situation Normal" (4a/4)

Re: Rumlow/Bucky reciprocally fucked up

Re: Fill: "Situation Normal" (4a/4)

FILL: Sharon/Rumlow A Little Payback

Re: FILL: Sharon/Rumlow A Little Payback

Re: Rumlow/Bucky reciprocally fucked up

Re: Rumlow/Bucky reciprocally fucked up

honeypot mission

[Fill] "So Familiar a Gleam" Dreamed up Evil!Steve and fragile grasp on reality [5/?]

Re: [Fill] "So Familiar a Gleam" Dreamed up Evil!Steve and fragile grasp on reality [4/?]

Re: [Fill] "So Familiar a Gleam" Dreamed up Evil!Steve and fragile grasp on reality [4/?]

Re: [Fill] "So Familiar a Gleam" Dreamed up Evil!Steve and fragile grasp on reality [4/?]

Re: [Fill] "So Familiar a Gleam" Dreamed up Evil!Steve and fragile grasp on reality [4/?]

Re: [Fill] "So Familiar a Gleam" Dreamed up Evil!Steve and fragile grasp on reality [4/?]

Re: [Fill] "So Familiar a Gleam" Dreamed up Evil!Steve and fragile grasp on reality [4/?]

Re: Pierce/WS, Pierce topping from the bottom

Re: Pierce/WS, Pierce topping from the bottom

Re: Pierce/WS, Pierce topping from the bottom

Windmills, Fill 2/? (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

OP