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.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Ah, thank you again, I'm so happy to hear that the characterization feels right.

And, yeah, Steve didn't think that one all the way through.

I'm glad the humor and normalcy isn't jarring in the bad way; it's supposed to be a little weird because, hey, it's a weird situation. But also, yeah, Bucky's got more in his head than 24/7 replay of his WS days. He's determined not to waste the rest of the time he's been given obsessing over them to the best of his ability and basically hand over his mind to them after he's escaped. It just doesn't always work like he'd planned.

Thank you! I'm glad the humor isn't too bizarre. I thought it underscored the drama pretty well bouncing back and forth.

Steve never actually made it to sleep that night, but he still stayed in his room a little later than he normally would have, trying to decide how best to convince Bucky to let him tag along throughout his day, ostensibly for the company – Steve could play awfully pathetic these days if he really needed to, no matter the sour taste it left in his mouth – but really to keep an eye on him and observe. Bucky was bound to be aware of that. The question was whether Steve could convince him, not in so many words, to tolerate it for the time being.

When he finally walked into the kitchen Bucky was already there. He wasn’t cooking, though. He was cleaning. With a vengeance.

“Goddamn motherfucking pissant sac-whackers,” he was angrily murmuring through gritted teeth. He noticed Steve and barely glanced up, speaking louder. “Those nasty-ass bugs must’ve got into my gear and hitched a ride back with me. Now they’re making a home under the toaster. And under the sink. And my bed. Fuckers. Where the hell on the food chain are these things supposed to rank? Why can’t my ops be in swanky hotels and galas like Natasha gets instead of buildings that ought to have been condemned?”

“Because you hate fancy public shindigs,” Steve said, “and also because you look so good in a tux I’d have to spend the whole time in the bathroom jerking off.”

Wait. What?

“What?” Bucky asked, pausing in his spraying and scrubbing to peel back his yellow rubber gloves and toss them into the sink. “Really?”

“I…” What the hell had he said that for? That was … so totally out of line. Oh, God. Why had he said that? Bucky wasn’t up for handling that. “I am … so sorry. Fuck.”

“No, no,” Bucky insisted, casually leaning back into the counter, one hand behind him and the other reaching out to squash another bug, “this is good. Why do we never talk about the fact that we used to be together? ‘Cause sometimes I want to talk about it. I really do. But you avoid it, so I avoid it, and we never talk about it. And I don’t know how to bring it up.”

“Uh…” Steve sat down at the table. He hadn’t anticipated this, and, to be honest, he hadn’t spent much time thinking about it. It wasn’t fair to Bucky to try to live in the past, so he’d been following his cues. “You want to talk now?”

Bucky took a deep breath. “Sometimes I get angry thinking about how much I used to jerk off thinking about you and how we always connected and communicated best when we were fucking because otherwise I think about how fucking sick I feel not knowing if I’ll ever be able to do any of that again.” He paused. “With anyone. I went out with this girl from that diner down the street and when she took me home I took one look at her snatch and couldn’t breathe. She was so wet for it, wet for me, I could smell her across the room. And I panicked. I got so discombobulated I forgot we’d been on a date and not at the diner and I gave her a tip.”

“Is that why she poured Tabasco into your pancake syrup last week?”

“I deserved it. And after that, I’m not sure I even want to try anymore. I can’t even salute myself these days. And I’ve seen the porn. Everyone expects everyone to go down, and I can’t even stomach the smell, let alone the taste.” He rifled through a drawer suddenly until he came out with a handful of chocolate mint candies. He saw Steve’s questioning gaze and rolled his eyes. “The mint is to keep me grounded. I read that it helps and it does. Strong tastes help. The chocolate is because sugar tastes nothing like anything that sadists might find funny to introduce to someone’s mouth. So I eat a lot of it. Sweet things make me feel a little better.”

He tore open another candy, threw it into his mouth, and chomped down so angrily that he bit his tongue and yelped.

Steve processed that. He’d noticed Bucky’s outrageous consumption habits, but Bucky was an adult, free to rot his own teeth if he so chose, so it was none of Steve’s business. It was just that Bucky had only had a mild sweet tooth way back when. Well, sometimes when he was stressed he’d have a bit more, but still. Nothing like lately. Steve thought maybe it was for the extra calories.

On the other hand, this was pretty extreme stress Bucky was under. But the taste thing …

“Oh, Bucky,” he sighed. Then he winced. It wasn’t pity, but that’s how it would sound. Why did these things keep leaving his mouth unchecked?

Sure enough, Bucky swept the empty wrappers off of the counter in one frustrated motion. He opened his mouth as if to argue, but after a couple of seconds of his mouth hanging open, lips moving as if to form words, he let out an inarticulate growl and stormed out of the room.

Steve got up to follow Bucky, but he thought better of it and instead opted to pick up Bucky’s rag and bug spray and finish up in the kitchen. He got a good look at the offenders. They were little, a lot like fleas, but big enough to see if he leaned in. He could have sworn that they weren’t there last night. He kept a clean house and so did Bucky.

He kept at it for another five or so minutes before he heard Bucky stomp over to the front door and he went to catch up with him. He was distracted, though, when the force of Bucky’s stomping dislodged a bit of mud from the tread on his boots. Steve stepped around it so he wouldn’t grind it into the floor, but as he did, he noticed … larvae. Squirming faintly in the dried, cracking mud.

He carefully scooped it into a plastic bag and put that bag into a hard container. It was nothing, probably. Old buildings came with old bugs.
`
The back of his neck itched, like something was crawling on it. He slapped a hand over it, but there was nothing there. Paranoia, probably.

But it couldn’t hurt to check it out.

(OP)

HAHA HOLY SHIT I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS BUG HORROR TRASH. OH MY GOD. Excuse me, I need to build a bug spray castle. It will be my new home. I cannot tell you how creepy & atmospheric the final few paragraphs were, with Bucky tracking larvae around the house and Steve slapping at itches on his neck and just... what the fuck... a psychotic break would have been terrible, and this is also really, REALLY TERRIBLE, for completely unexpected reasons. I love being creeped out, and I am squirming. !!!!! brrrrr

I caught on the moment Steve made his tux + masturbation comment and started cackling; love that he gets a taste of this as well, and whether or not his own symptoms escalate, it intensifies the horror. He's so quick and on top of it, as well, he's picking up on all the clues we the readers are meant to get -- I still adore your characterization!

Well, you asked about Steve/Bucky, and you have indeed found a very painful option. The idea that they've both been afraid to bring it up in their traumatized circumstances is an entire Russian novel's worth of tragedy D: but at the same it's so sweet and hopeful that they have such a functional, close, supportive friendship even amid this unspoken romantic wreckage. Their dedication to each other is unchanged. I'm really liking your portrayal of this relationship.

Multiple thumbs up for Bucky worrying he'll never be able to handle sex again, especially because you slid in that little knife, that that used to be an important method of connection for him and Steve. That's happy. His story about the diner girl is another good example of your ability to mix humor and awkwardness/horror -- the image of him panicking at the smell of sex and throwing money at her, omg, it must have been humiliating and it's pretty sad, but also SHE POURED TABASCO IN HIS SYRUP. HE WENT BACK TO THAT DINER. BUCKY.

Finally: 'pissant sac-whacker' is the best insult I've ever heard; what the hell, Bucky.

OH NO OH YES

No, please keep the bits of humor! It..suits this Bucky.

THE BUGS OH MY GOD? ITS SO X FILES I LOVE IT

(OP) Sorry it took me so long to reply—I get busy with school for one month and look what I miss! Unacceptable. Anyway, thank you so much for another brilliant recording! It would be pretty much impossible to overstate my epic love for your trash podfics. I'm sorry if it was uncomfortable to get a request outside your comfort zone—that was absolutely not my intention. But this is a marvelous substitution!

oh my god are they literally bugged

OH MY GOD XD

I sincerely love how all of the comments are suddenly some version of "Oh my god!" Wow. Struck a nerve there. I got a way bigger reaction to that one than I was expecting.

Thanks, guys, for being fantastic and commenting. :D I really appreciate it.

They stayed close the rest of the day--not always touching, but never far from each other, and exchanging little kisses again and again. The furthest apart they got was when they went down the gym and trained in different areas, and even then they were always in sight of each other; it seemed like every time Steve looked over to confirm that Bucky was still nearby, he caught Bucky looking back.

That night Steve said, "My bed or yours?"

He saw a flicker of hesitation on Bucky's face, but Bucky said, "Yours, if you want me in it."

Steve didn't bother telling Bucky that he did, just tugged him through the door. They kissed again, when they were in bed, and Steve had a flicker of awareness that they could have sex now, this kind of sex, but something in him still shied away from it. He wasn't hard, and he didn't invite anything more, just kissed Bucky drowsily until it was easy to cuddle close and fall asleep again.

He woke up to Bucky's weight on him, Bucky's cock hard against his hip, his own heart racing fast and the taste of fear at the back of his throat--but Bucky was whispering, "No, no, stop," in a despairing voice.

Steve gave him a firm shove, controlled, exactly enough force to roll Bucky onto his side. He put plenty of command behind it when he said, "Bucky."

Bucky jerked awake and scrambled out of the bed; Steve's night vision was good enough to catch his expression of wide-eyed horror before Bucky vanished into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Steve got up too, padding cautiously toward the door as he pieced it together.

Bucky had been having a nightmare. He remembered that tense insistence the morning after Bucky had first come into his room--it was a nightmare. And now Bucky's nightmares would have a whole new source to draw from, because Bucky had played today at doing exactly what he'd already been afraid of doing: scaring and hurting and raping Steve.

Steve closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the bathroom door, listening, but there was no sound of water running. No sound of Bucky being sick or making any other sound.

Steve set his hand on the doorknob and thought that Bucky had almost certainly not stopped to lock it.

"Buck," he said softly. "Can I come in?"

No answer. Steve turned the doorknob slowly, soundlessly, and pushed the door open, listening for any sound of protest. None came. "JARVIS, lights low."

The bathroom was illuminated in a dim, indirect glow, and Steve discovered Bucky kneeling with his forehead against the lid of the toilet, both hands over his face.

"Hey," Steve said softly. "Buck, it was just a bad dream."

"You dropped the bell," Bucky said, without lowering his hands. "You dropped the bell, you were screaming, and I didn't--I didn't stop. I wouldn't stop. You were bleeding and you were crying and I just kept going."

Steve winced. Half of that had really happened, but--"I didn't drop the bell in real life, Buck. I never told you to stop. That part was just the nightmare."

Bucky did lower his hands then, lifting his head to look up at Steve.

Steve moved all the way inside, sitting down next to the door. There was still a body-length between them, in this ridiculously spacious bathroom, but at least Bucky wasn't looking up at him from his knees.

"It felt so fucking good," Bucky whispered. "I liked it. Steve, you were crying and you wanted me to stop and I didn't stop because I fucking liked it."

That part... wasn't the nightmare. Probably.

"Well, I didn't do all of that so you could not like it," Steve offered, smiling a little, but Bucky just looked sick and hunted.

"I never," Bucky said, and he folded his arms around himself defensively, tipping down to sit against the wall, as far from Steve as he could get. "When they made me. It was just something I had to do. I never... it felt good, physically, there was pleasure to it, but I never liked it. It was just--orders. A task."

Steve didn't let himself look away, though he was starting to feel sick himself.

"But that, with you today--I fucking liked it. And I--I don't know if I would have stopped, Stevie. It felt so fucking good, I don't know if I--and you--I can still hear you screaming," Bucky trailed off, raising his metal hand to rub the heel of it against his ear. "You were--you were screaming. I could hear the bell ringing and I didn't stop and then it was just screaming. I did that to you."

"You didn't," Steve said firmly, putting the same authority into it that he'd used to wake Bucky up. If he could somehow wake Bucky up from this nightmare it would be the best command he'd ever given.

"You didn't hear the bell ringing--that was only a dream. I didn't tell you to stop, and we agreed that if I didn't, you would keep going. We agreed that you were going to make me want you to, but if I could take it, you would finish. We had safeguards. JARVIS would have made you stop if you ignored me, but it didn't go that far. I didn't ask you to stop. If I did, you would have. The fact that you feel sick right now tells you you would have. That's what makes that dream a nightmare, it's exactly what you wouldn't have done in real life."

"You don't know that," Bucky insisted. "You don't know, you don't..."

Bucky hid his face in his hands again, and Steve glanced around the bathroom and remembered being here, wanting to hide, feeling sick.

"Bucky," Steve said, moving up onto his knees. "Look, I think maybe the same thing is happening to you that happened to me. You feel like you just did something really bad."

Steve kept talking steadily as he moved, walking on his knees over to Bucky, so that Bucky could pinpoint exactly where he was every second. "You feel like you raped someone today, but you didn't. You only did what I agreed to, and you liked it because it felt good, and because it was a game we were playing. You didn't break the rules. You're not going to hurt anybody. You didn't hurt me more than I agreed to. You didn't ignore what I was asking you for. You didn't break my trust."

By then Steve was close enough to put his hand on Bucky's right wrist, tugging gently. "Come on, it's my turn to stick close to you, right? Make sure you know you didn't do anything wrong. You didn't, Buck. You didn't do anything wrong. I didn't drop the bell. I didn't tell you to stop. You would never keep going after I told you to stop."

Bucky resisted Steve's pull, keeping his hands over his face, long enough to say, "I don't want to do that again."

Steve smiled a little, despite everything. "I won't fight you on that, Buck. But I need you to know that this was okay, today. I mean, it knocked me for a loop, but that was the plan, right? I didn't drop the bell."

Bucky lowered his hands and looked Steve in the eye. "Say the other thing again."

Steve held his gaze. "You didn't break my trust. You didn't betray me. You would never keep going if I told you to stop. I still trust you. I still love you--" Bucky cut him off there, leaning in for a kiss, so careful and gentle that Steve's heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He followed Bucky's lead, though, cupping his hands around Bucky's face and kissing him back just as tenderly.

Bucky pulled away, leaning his forehead against Steve's. "Say it."

"I trust you," Steve whispered. "You didn't do anything wrong. I know you won't hurt me. I trust you. Now come back to bed."

Bucky nodded, but made no move to stand. He came along when Steve stood up, though, and let Steve bring him back to bed. When Steve lay down with his back turned, Bucky snuggled up to him, kissing the nape of his neck, wrapping his arms around Steve.

Sleep was a long time coming, but Steve made himself relax, made his breathing even. He made a deliberate show of his trust until Bucky couldn't fail to see it, to feel it right down to his bones.

***

Bucky disappeared for a while the next day, but he came back before Steve could get truly worried, looking drained but calm. To Steve's questioning look he said, "Therapy. Doc wants to see me every day for a while."

"Oh," Steve said, because he didn't think he was supposed to apologize for driving Bucky to this. Before now, Bucky had gone maybe three times to see the therapist that the ad hoc Avengers administrative team had very firmly recommended to him. As far as Steve could tell, Bucky thought of it the same way Steve did: as a hoop to be jumped through in exchange for being an Avenger.

Bucky nodded as if Steve had asked any of the questions swirling inarticulately in his head. "When I first met him, Doc said he knew I was going to hide things and lie--said everyone does, because they hide things from themselves, lie to themselves. He said if I wasn't prepared to at least try to tell him the truth there wasn't a lot of point in meeting very often. But this morning I--I needed to confess to somebody, and--" Bucky waved a hand. "Anyway. Every day, for a while."

"Good," Steve said, because it seemed like the thing to say, although he was mostly thinking about the number of bald-faced lies he'd told the handful of therapists he'd been convinced to see at one time or another since he woke up in the 21st century.

Bucky shrugged and said lightly, "He says he doesn't think I'm a monster, anyway. Not exactly absolvo te, but I'll take it."

Haha, sorry, I figured it was about time to stop dropping hints and dig a little deeper at What's Really Wrong With Bucky. You could almost even call it the barest bones of a plot. But he's not psychotic! So. You know. There's that. Hooray!

My personal theory is that Bucky is obscenely creative with his cursing. He spends a lot of time by himself looking through a scope; I imagine this is what he does while he waits to keep alert without distracting himself.

He couldn't just stop going to that diner. They serve the best pancakes! Now he's got to find a new pancake dive. It's rough, man.

As always, thank you for your comments. They're awesome. :D Everyone's are awesome.

This continues to be one of my favorite things ever to come out of this dumpster. I love how open and trusting their relationship is, how they're both fully present even if they're both screwed up to different degrees. They're really trying.

But also this is painful as hell. And of course I'm looking forward to more of it, because it's excellent and thought-provoking and heart-clenching, but oh god this cuts to the bone.

Thank you for writing this.

Steve sent the sample to Stark Tower, they scoured the apartment clean, and Bucky scrubbed his boots. They carried on as usual. They kept missing each other for a few days, but the first day they were both free, Steve took Bucky to the movies and tentatively asked if he could call it a date. He wouldn’t have, but … then suddenly he did and once it was out there, it was out there. But Bucky just smiled that almost-smile that had soiled more than one pair of teenage-Steve’s shorts and looped his arm around Steve’s.

“Obviously you don’t need to expect anything,” Steve rushed to say. “I mean, I’m not expecting anything from you. Sex, I mean. Not necessary.”

Bucky let the awkward silence continue for at least a minute before he tipped his head to the side and asked, “This is about what I said, isn’t it?”

That was the first time he’d acknowledged any of his strange outbursts.

Steve mulled over what to say and then surprised himself by accidentally answering truthfully. “Actually, only partly. It’s not like we just picked up where we left off. There’s a lot of stuff between us. I want to get to know you again before I even think about doing that. I … I’ve had some trouble getting close to people, too, these days.”

“You slept with anyone this century?”

Steve opened his mouth to answer, not proud but willing to be honest, but before he could Bucky held up his hand and shushed him.

“Wait, wait, never mind. I don’t want to know.”

They picked an afternoon showing and Bucky, jerk that he was, picked that new action movie that was supposed to be about the Battle of New York, but the trailers made it look like a soap opera. Steve kind of thought that it was in poor taste to make a movie about something that had happened so recently that there were still neighborhoods in need of repairs. Still, Bucky was interested in seeing whether the guy playing Captain America was any good, and some of the proceeds were supposed to go to the reconstruction.

They’d just bought their tickets and were walking over to get them torn when Bucky slowed, then stopped, and tracked a tall, bald man across the room.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked under his breath, leaning into Bucky a little back-to-back, giving the place a once-over.

Bucky waited another thirty seconds before he narrowed his eyes, then relaxed, then answered, turning back to Steve. “Oh, nothing. I just thought that guy over there by the concession stand was the guy who ordered me to stick my face in a basin of water and stay there ‘til I passed out. I was wrong; he looks different from this angle. Honest mistake.”

“Jesus, Bucky!” Maybe it was whatever’d taken hold of him lately, maybe it was the shock of standing in a room full of twelve-year-olds waiting to see an action flick and hearing something so terrible, but he couldn’t contain it. “Why the hell would he want that from you?”

Bucky shrugged. “Punishment for allowing myself to be misused by the lab techs. He’s the one who walked in and found me.”

“You know that it wasn’t your fault, right?” He felt so useless. He’d been useless all this time. He needed Bucky to know at least this one thing. Punished for being abused already … There was no end to this trip down the well. It was starting to feel like now that the stones had crumbled around his feet, he’d just keep falling forever, and he wasn’t sure if Bucky would even be there if he made it to the bottom.

“Sure. Probably.” He didn’t sound convincing, but Steve didn’t feel right pushing him about this. “But it’s nothing to what he ordered me to do to them for the unauthorized misappropriation of HYDRA’s property. They took that very seriously.” He shrugged again, stuffing one hand into his pocket to rattle his keys a little, the other scratching at the back of his neck, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “They tried to brush it off as legitimate medical checks, but their case kind of fell flat when he saw their Smartphones out. Pictures inside the facility were frowned on, too, let alone pictures of their prized catch. Then again, I’m not sure even you could recognize me by my asshole alone. Hey, the trailers are starting. I don’t want to miss those.”

Steve followed a moment later, but he did glance around to make sure none of the kids had heard. A couple of concerned parents were glaring at him, but all of the kids seemed preoccupied by the promotional action figures they’d been debuting at the counter and devising strategies to win them.

Bucky had already seated himself in the back row when Steve walked in, and Steve lost himself in cringing at the Tony Stark biopic trailer onscreen while Bucky laughed himself sick.

The movie was … interesting. He had a little trouble getting into it, though. He kept moving in his seat, trying to get comfortable. The itching was probably just his imagination.

Bucky looped his arm through Steve’s halfway through the picture, and when Steve looked up to smile at Bucky, he thought … he thought the plates of his arm shivered crookedly. But it was dark. What did he know about how Bucky’s arm worked?

He discretely texted Bruce to put a rush on those lab results, just to put the matter to rest before he started to obsess over it like he was already obsessing over Bucky’s strange mental state (and he still had to do something about that), but Bucky plucked the phone out of his hand and whispered that even Captain America had to respect theater rules. Then he squeezed Steve’s wrist affectionately and put his feet up on the empty seat in front of him.

Onscreen he and Tony Stark were giving each other mouth to mouth, which didn’t seem particularly necessary since both parties were clearly breathing just fine on their own, and he was pretty damn sure that hadn’t happened. He was seriously questioning how this movie had gotten made.

“They cast Stark twenty years younger than he is,” Bucky said when they emerged from the theater with a throng of kids and slightly uncomfortable parents. “Were they afraid his wrinkles are a black hole that would consume the entire set?”

Steve laughed, Bucky grinned, and they counted their date as a success. But after they went home and Steve shut himself in his room to go over his coming press appearances, he had a hard time forgetting what Bucky had said about the man at the theater. How it meant that any person on the street, really, could be someone he’d known, someone who’d been cruel to him. Someone who’d held his life in their hands. Anyone at all.

And Bucky’s enemies were Steve’s enemies. But Steve wouldn’t recognize them. He could shake hands with someone who’d humiliated Bucky and not even know it.

He liked to think that he was a better judge of character than that, that he could see something in them, something to identify that marked them as not like him, but that was wishful thinking. The truth was that he was always going to miss threats at least some of the time; that’s why he didn’t do this superhero thing alone. And some people truly could pass for human on the surface. That’s how they got away with their crimes.

Bucky called Steve out for dinner, into which he’d apparently dropped an accidental egg shell but expected Steve not to complain about (and he didn’t, even when he crunched it between his teeth while Bucky chewed on blissfully shell-free), and Steve had to put the matter to rest for the time being. It wouldn’t do either of them any good.

But first thing tomorrow he was getting his hands on an updated copy of their HYDRA files.

omg top drop I love you

are the bugs in the plates of bucky's arm???????!!

I HADN'T THOUGHT OF THAT AND NOW I HAVE TO GO SHOWER FOR LIKE SIX YEARS. DDDDDDDD:

EEeeeewwww oh god oh god

This might be my favourite chapter yet.

OMG, OMG, how horrid.

I love this so much. this is the epitome of safe scene even if the scenes themselves leave both parties thoroughly questioning their life choices. I really can't wait to read more of this.

Asshole whipping! Inspired by that gorgeous pic of Bucky bent over a railing getting his asshole caned, I crave all the trash about people caning, spanking or otherwise punishing Bucky's hole. Bonus points for fucking him afterwards!

This is beautiful, absolutely beautiful. This fic keeps getting better, and i'll love you forever for doing Bucky's perspective on this. May ou write long and prosper!

This story keeps getting better and better. It's so tender and so dark all at once. One of my favorite things is that you keep highlighting this weird smudge-y line between reality and play - like even with informed consent and negotiations, things are...complicated. To say the least. Anyway I'm loving this story a ton & I can't wait for more!

You can't just invoke that image & then not include a link omg...

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 86 of 222

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

Re: FILL Re: nonconsensual emotional voyeurism 3/?

Re: FILL Re: nonconsensual emotional voyeurism 3/?

Re: FILL Re: nonconsensual emotional voyeurism 4/?

Re: FILL Re: nonconsensual emotional voyeurism 4/?

Re: FILL Re: nonconsensual emotional voyeurism 4/?

Re: FILL Re: nonconsensual emotional voyeurism 3/?

Re: FILL Re: nonconsensual emotional voyeurism 4/?

Re: Trash podfics

Re: FILL Re: nonconsensual emotional voyeurism 4/?

Re: FILL Re: nonconsensual emotional voyeurism 4/?

FILL: Lamb and Martyr 10/?

Re: FILL Re: nonconsensual emotional voyeurism 4/?

Re: FILL: Lamb and Martyr 10/?

FILL Re: nonconsensual emotional voyeurism 5/?

Re: FILL: Lamb and Martyr 10/?

Re: FILL Re: nonconsensual emotional voyeurism 5/?

Re: FILL Re: nonconsensual emotional voyeurism 5/?

Re: FILL Re: nonconsensual emotional voyeurism 5/?

Re: FILL Re: nonconsensual emotional voyeurism 5/?

Re: FILL Re: nonconsensual emotional voyeurism 5/?

Re: FILL: Lamb and Martyr 10/?

no subject

Re: FILL: Lamb and Martyr 10/?

Re: FILL: Lamb and Martyr 10/?

no subject