#tw: risque

[guiltburdened]

[  CATCHING  ]  sender catches receiver getting flushed because of something they are doing or wearing. 

@ofgunsandlipstick

She had been trying on lingerie for some time, in front of her vanity mirror, in her quarters, in a converted hotel in Paris, maybe a few hundred miles from where the Allied forces were beginning the final push to drive Hydra and the Nazi regime back within their borders, and the fist tightened around Berlin, choking the life out of it.

Bucky had been standing in her doorway for some time, wearing his paratrooper boots, with an olive green utility uniform, with matching shirt and trousers, with his famous blue wool buttondown coat over it.

The American Ghost, as he was called.

The bane of Nazi officers everywhere. German officers quickly learned to stay away from windows, and on their toes, when they came within the range of the scope on Bucky's Mosin Nagant rifle.

His lips pursed, getting a perfect look of her ass, as he slowly moved into the room quietly, his weapons stowed everywhere, while Steve and the other Howling Commandos played cards, and enjoyed cigars and brandy. He was alone with Peggy in her bedroom.

"I'm not interrupting anything." He said quietly, to not startle her too much. "The dress up looks fun. Playing Doctor is much more fun, I think. Or House."

He came to her, his classically handsome features reddened with arousal, at having seen a good portion of her body, as he wrapped his arms around her, tossing the gown aside that Peggy had been thinking of driving on, lifting her up into his arms, her thighs parting around his body, as he sits her on the vanity, before kissing her, his lips meeting the British woman's hard.

[zomharrow]

Velvet Embrace

Time: Some time after the alarms and a meal Location: Velvet Embrace (Cabaret) in the Sinner’s District Closed starter with: @northerndiarchy

It was not curiosity that pulled him towards the peculiar glow of the district lights. Already he had traversed more of the city than he had ever expected on his third journey into the open air. And though it was not the best time to be a tourist, he had not seen signs that the hunt had spread to the area he was walking through. Nevertheless, Luca had always naturally moved in the shadows, and through back alleys and streets reminiscent of the Gutters he inched his way closer to the Sinner’s District. 

An acrid smell with hints of metal hit his nostrils. The source, he soon discovered, was a pipe whose smoking surface revealed a hand imprint. The corroded metal had been peeling though the process seemed to be slowing. It was then he heard a trashcan fall over to his left. There, at the edge of the building, five fingers curled over the edge of brick - the skin tinted an inhuman color by dirt grime and blood. And then the hand was gone. Chills ran through Luca’s spine, yet he still moved towards the little alley. It was empty. He walked into it and soon noted how far ahead it stretched without intersecting another. Whoever that had been, they had been fast. 

A door burst open to his left as a person rushed out to retch. “Oh my god,” their companion said, “come inside quick! there’s sentinels everywhere on the main street, get in!” 

Inside, Luca found himself surrounded by lace and tassels the likes he’d often seen in Dirty Joe’s hands on the pages of magazines. A young woman rushed nearby to grab a coat, when she saw him. “Hi. You know,” she smiled, “you don’t need to hang around the costumes when you can look at them filled.” 

“No. Thank you. Not now,” he told her. With a pout she approached him saying, “the other cute guy also said no. Said he was on a chase or something. But well...” She removed her bra, though it barely qualified as one, hung it about Luca’s neck, and then said, “perhaps you’d rather wear the lace and surprise him when he does catch you.” Then she left. 

It was then Luca turned to see the man she’d likely spoken of before, quietly watching.