#sorry you got flamingoed. from eating the tower.

[shalpilot]

very happy that getting spoiled about mr mystery man (you know the one.) has honestly had a positive effect on the experience because now i’m like okay what is your deal. why are you being so cagey. tell me what’s going on or i’m breaking out the spray bottle

[miracalicethebookgirl]

The Phony and the Famous Pt. 3

AO3 

Pt 1. Pt 2. 

Summary: Lila spreads lies about being famous with worldwide connections to increase her local popularity. She’s confident that Marinette will never be able to prove otherwise. What she, and even Marinette herself, don’t realize is that Marinette won’t have to do any of that to come out on top. - A story in which everything Lila lies about, Marinette turns into reality for herself, usually unknowingly (our girl is quite the lucky one, after all).

“Yes, I suffer from tinnitus, a constant ringing in my left ear. I've had it ever since the sound of an airplane engine burst my eardrum on the runway when I was saving Jagged Stone's lost kitten.”

Season 3, “Chameleon”

... 

Fang was a simple creature.

He was hatched straight into the hands of the human he now called his owner and raised among those who often cowered from him. Very rarely did a human try to test Fang’s temper, so he grew up rather tame. His owner fed him well and presented him with many interesting gifts, most of which were quickly chewed through within days, if not hours. When Fang was not feeding or playing (or taking delightful baths), he would walk with and rest near and carefully watch his owner, for Jagged was a human worth Fang’s avid attention.

He could see when his owner was happy and content. It happened most when Jagged’s frequent companion—that human with the clipboard in her hands and the phone to hear ear, “Penny” she was called—would smile at him. It was even easier to tell when his owner was irritated and upset. Such moments were less frequent but still happened once or twice a week. Fang was now very accustomed to emitting a loud hiss on sight of the annoying man with the sunglasses and clanky jewelry.

And so Fang had his routine. Eat, play with his owner, sleep, growl happily at Jagged and his friends, hiss at the rabble, lounge in the bath, repeat (some steps more often than others).

Sure, Fang was unusual for a crocodile, but he was still a simple creature.

…

There was one girl who Fang recently began to see often. She was one of the few he was happy to ask for pets from, considering his owner always shouted happily when he saw her.

His owner called the girl “Marinette” or something of the like, but Fang thought her name should be Treats because she typically brought a box of cookies with her on her visits. Normally Fang wouldn’t care for human foods, but ever since the girl began bringing a variety of meaty snacks for Fang along with the cookies, the crocodile learned to become just as excited by her presence as his owner.

She was also very kind to Fang. Sure, she was reluctant to approach him at first as most humans do, but Fang understood that was how humans protected themselves. It proved she was a cautious one, yet also a brave and understanding one when Fang noticed that over time she became more comfortable with him, allowing him to nuzzle against her legs and growl in joy before climbing atop some furniture to beg for treats.

So one day, it was with little fuss that Fang allowed himself to be led out of the usual hotel by Treats. As a crocodile, he understood just enough that he would be in her care for the day.

Together, they walked down the streets of Paris. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping and nearby humans consistently gave them a wide berth on the sidewalk with horror on their faces. Just how Fang liked it.

He prided himself on being able to keep the massive crowds away from his owner when they traveled around the world. Under Fang’s watch, not once did a “rabid fan” lay their hands on even the hair from his owner’s head.

Well…except for that one time one of those “fans” managed to zap Fang with a bright light, thus sending the crocodile to some empty white place.

But that was neither here nor there.

Treats was watching Fang for the day, yes, but that also meant Fang would watch out for her.

“Wow, Marinette! You weren’t kidding when you said you were pet-sitting a crocodile today!”

And there it was. The first test.

As soon as the two of them entered a park through its gated entrance, a tall boy came running at them, followed by a few others. Fang was quick to intercept as he maneuvered himself in front of Treats and snapped his jaw in the air once. The boy instantly recoiled.

“Whoa!”

“Sorry, Kim! Fang doesn’t like it when strangers come too close.”

“Unsurprising. Crocodiles tend to get aggressive when their space is invaded and considering their large size, that space can span a couple meters radius from their body. I can’t quite tell if Fang is of the freshwater or saltwater variety, but I can tell you that 95% of attacks on humans are caused by provocation no matter what species the crocodile is.”

“That’s a pretty good explanation. Thank you, Max,” Treats said as she bent down to pat Fang’s head. “Fang is just really protective of his owner and it extends to other people he likes. It takes some time for him to know a person so best to keep your distance for today.”

The first boy slumped. “Aw, man.”

Fang turned his snout away. That was the human’s problem. No way was Fang going to let his guard down just from some pitiful look.

By then, more young humans had gathered around but stayed far away, much to Fang’s satisfaction. They seemed to be friends with Treats, judging by her easy smile as she conversed with them, so he figured he’d keep his hissing to a minimum.

The afternoon passed peacefully in the park. Treats’ friends came and went without bothering Fang much as he lounged in a sunpatch.

He kept a watchful eye on one boy, though, who seemed a little too familiar with the girl. When the boy placed a hand on her shoulder, Fang let out a quiet warning hiss only to be met by a short hiss from the boy himself. It was oddly high for a human and the others didn’t seem to hear. Fang retaliated by crawling over and draping himself over Treats’ lap.

She let out an indignant squawk but Fang ignored it, reptilian eyes focused on the boy who had smartly moved away when Fang had approached. All the boy could do then was narrow his eyes at the crocodile momentarily before his face smoothed over and he went back to smiling at Treats.

If his cold-blooded body had allowed it, Fang would have scoffed.

Crocodiles may be simple creatures. But cats were even more so.

…

At some point, Fang became hungry.

He plodded a circle around Treats, who by then had moved to sitting on a bench as she struck up conversation with more friends. He rumbled and groaned for attention, which she was quick to give, and he delicately snapped his jaws at her to indicate his hunger.

“Oh, no! That alligator is about to eat Marinette!” came a shrieking from the distance.

Fang’s jaws clamped shut as he was quick to look for said alligator so he could fight it. Maybe he could make a meal out of it because such a scuffle would take a lot of him.

He was ignorant to the random screaming that erupted from all around the park while Treats’ friends spread out to try and calm people. Fang huffed.

Seriously, how was he supposed to find the alligator with all the chaos?

He turned back to Treats to see her glaring at another human girl. Ah, this must be another test. Perhaps the girl cried alligator as a ruse to distract Fang.

“No, really!” the girl continued. “I’ve seen rabid reptiles before and this one just isn’t safe! They latch onto one prey and they’ll keep on chasing no matter what you do! We have to get Marinette away from that alligator!”

Humans around the park hadn’t stopped running every which way while Treats’ friends looked on uncertainly. It confused Fang, because he still did not know what alligator the girl was screaming about. So he simply plodded closer to Treats and nuzzled her leg, hoping she would clear things up for him.

She must’ve understood crocodile language because thankfully her next words cleared things up for everyone.

“Lila!” Treats shouted reproachfully. “You need to be quiet for five seconds so I can explain to you and everyone else in this park that it’s all a misunderstanding. I am absolutely safe right where I am!” Her expression reminded Fang of when Penny would stand up eerily straight with a glare and somehow tower over his owner despite being much shorter. Needless to say, the posture and tone got the girl to shut up just as quick as Jagged would.

Treats marched over to this “Lila” and Fang was quick to follow. At least until Treats turned back to him and kindly motioned him to stay. Fang was a good crocodile so he did as he was told. The friends kept their distance.

“Now listen here, Lila,” she started off quietly once she stood just a meter away from the girl. “I need you to remain calm because panic from you and panic from everyone else is not going to solve anything. Fang is a completely tame crocodile and though he might look threatening, he knows better than to attack anyone. In fact he’s lived with humans his entire life.”

Fang nodded in satisfaction. He understood now that the girl thought he was the alligator. How silly. But an unfortunately common mistake.

The other humans seemed to share the same sentiment. Many of them nodded and smiled in relief. The Lila girl however, notably did not look reassured. If anything, she looked about ready to burst into tears.

“But Marinette! I thought you knew that I’m deathly afraid of crocodiles. I was traumatized as a child when I had to save baby flamingos from a herd of them in Africa!” And then she covered her eyes with her hands and actually started to cry. “How could you ignore that and do this to me!” she wailed.

Okay, Fang felt kind of bad at this point. He was sure Treats would never purposefully scare someone but he didn’t want to stick around any longer if a human was so terrified of him.

A few of Treats’ friends rushed over to the crying girl and tried to comfort her but they also defended Treats.

“I’m sure Marinette didn’t mean any harm!”

“Yeah, she didn’t even know most of us would be at the park today.”

“Come on, Lila, maybe we should get you home?”

Treats herself took a step back to let the others surround Lila. She held a frown on her face but said, “If Lila needs some time to calm down then Fang and I will head out first. Better to take away the cause of her trauma immediately, right? Besides, it’s about time we get him back to Jagged anyway.”

Some heads perked up at that.

The cat-boy from earlier, who stood apart from the crowd (and noticeably much closer to Treats) had a little glint in his eye. “That’s right! Fang is Jagged Stone’s beloved pet crocodile. Pretty neat that you were the first person he thought of to pet-sit for him. He must trust you a lot.”

Lila had been taken to sit at a far off bench by then, but Fang’s crocodile senses allowed him to hear that her sobbing had stopped and surprisingly a low growl had replaced it. One glance at her and he could spot the fury and shock in her eyes, unseen by anyone else.

If Fang had eyebrows he’d have raised them so high up. He settled for a confused hiss.

He really wished humans were simpler creatures.

Most of Treats’ friends wandered back to them after seeing that Lila had calmed down considerably and they excitedly began to ask Treats questions about Fang’s owner.

She just raised her hands up placatingly and shook her head, insisting that she get Fang back to the hotel to avoid any other mishaps. It made Fang a little sad to go back indoors so soon, but he didn’t put up a fuss. He just waited patiently as Treats finally turned around to walk over to him.

However, as soon as she looked in Fang’s direction, Treats’ eyes widened and she screamed his name. Almost too fast for his eyes to follow, she sprinted towards him before scooping his entire body into her arms and lifting him above her head.

Nobody moved for several seconds as a large runaway food cart went speeding through the exact spot Fang had been in.

The cart crashed into a nearby tree and a man—probably the owner—rushed by in distress, a constant stream of apologies spilling out of his mouth.

Fang felt himself being lowered to the ground. When he turned to look at Treats, he saw that everyone looked as gobsmacked as he felt, even the heroic girl herself.

“Holy kwami,” Fang barely heard cat-boy say under his breath. The sound of his whisper seemed to break the group out of their trance.

“DC, that was insane!” shouted the tall boy from before. “You just deadlifted a massive beast! Max, how heavy was that?!”

“U-uh, let’s see. Based on Fang’s size, he could be anywhere from 80 to 85 kg (approx. 175-188 lbs).”

“She reacted so fast I didn’t even see her move!”

“My girl’s always been on another level. Guess I didn’t realize how much until now.”

“Marinette saved Fang’s life! Ooh, we’ve got to post this!”

While her friends continued to chatter in amazement among themselves, Treats didn’t even notice them. She merely stared at Fang in relief before she patted him on the head. He looked up at her in question.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” she sighed and slumped forward. “That was way too close.”

Fang was sure he could have handled it just fine, but was thankful nonetheless. He showed his gratitude by giving a low grumble and nuzzling her hand.

Soon the other humans finally calmed down, allowing Treats and Fang to leave the park. Treats herself seemed paranoid on the walk back, looking every which way to make sure danger didn’t come flying at them again. Meanwhile Fang made sure she didn’t accidentally walk into a busy road or run into objects.

They met with Jagged and Penny back in the hotel suite and were immediately brought into a group hug by the man.

“Marinette, your rock n’ roll heroic deed went viral and it’s all anyone’s been talking about for the past hour. I may have written a song about Ladybug and Chat Noir but I think I’m gonna dedicate it to everyday heroes like you, next time I perform it!”

The girl stuttered out some response while his owner kept shouting happily about this and that. Fang ignored it and ambled over to the couch to take a nap, something he felt he earned after such an exciting day.

He was a simple creature after all.

[geminimoonbeamx]

Bucky Barnes/ Plus size reader Time of the Month

Word count: 4K+ Warnings: lots of swearing, mentions of blood and smut Was heavily inspired by a Harry Styles imagine I read a while back! It had been a long. Fucking. Day. You'd been dragging yourself around, grumbling and feeling heavy, since early this morning. It was your time of the month, the beginning of your seven day walk through hell, and you had done all in your power to keep professional for the last twelve or so hours. You wish you were one of those women, you know, the ones who make statements like "Oh yeah, my period only lasts a few days and I don't even bleed that much" or "I haven't had cramps since I was a teenager" but unfortunately, you think bitterly, you are not. Your period had always been heavy and painful, ever since you we're thirteen. You had cramps that we're so intense they had caused blackouts in the past and you bled heavily for the entirety of the week. Plus your mood swings...they were killer. It was something you'd been forced to become accustomed to. "I cant fucking wait to go through menopause" was something anyone close to you was used to hearing during this time of the month. So, at the start of they day you'd popped four Ibprofen and forced yourself to go and be the professional, get your work done. Paper work. Piles and piles of paperwork, so much that it made your eyes cross. You weren't a fan of the mundane aspcets of your job to begin with but today you want to slam your head repeatedly against the glass surface of your desk. No days off, you unfortunately have to make that your mantra. Working PR for the Avengers was a full time thing, between making sure that there were no Governments pissed that one of their national land marks had been destroyed and attempting to keep them all in line; make sure they were working with the UN so that homeland security didn't come knocking at your door you were a busy woman. You had come to love them though, been adopted into this second family. Bonded with each of them over the last ten months that you'd been assigned at Avengers Tower. Yes, assigned. Well guilted, really. When you'd gotten a call from Sharon, Carter, close to a year ago, begging you to take on the assignment of glorified "babysitting" the group, you'd at first blatantly said no. You had no shortage of job offers, but with a little begging and some strong Jedi mind tricks on Sharons end you'd accepted. You we're happy you did(even though you most definitely wanted to fucking kill them sometimes). More then happy because it had united you with Bucky, the sharp talking puppy dog of a super soldier. Poor guy was totally nuts for you, you pitied him for it. Especially on days like today. When you we're the biggest raving bitch this side of the equator. You snapped at Maria, not able to stomach her dry humor that usually made you laugh. You'd told Tony to go fuck himself, well you did that almost everyday but you had done it three times already today and for some reason you couldn't bare to be touched. Everytime Bucky would try to do simple things that you usually loved like put his warm, flesh arm around your shoulder or kiss your cheek you'd flinch away. He didn't make a big deal out of it, you'd been with him for close to four months and it wasn't like he didn't know what was going on but you felt like total and complete shit every time. You just couldn't. Everything seemed to grate your gears. You just wanted to bury your self in your bed and die. So after you had gotten all(most) of your work done that's exactly what you did. You grabbed a quick dinner, keeping the small talk with Wanda, Bruce and Vision light and timely and then made your way to your room where you intended to pamper the fuck out of yourself and then rot. Boling yourself in a bath was first. Dropping in a LUSH Honeybee bathbomb, a sprinkle of Epsom salt to relax your muscles and a healthy drizzle of lavender oil you had proceeded to soak. For at least thirty minutes, until the hot water had begun warmed you from the inside out. Making you all gooey and pliable. As you sat in the multi colored tub, relaxed, you cant get your mind of Bucky. How much of a ice cunt you'd been to him. How well he'd dealt with it, not once complaining and giving you your space to make it through your day. You truly didn't deserve that man. He was everything you'd never knew you wanted. Beyond being angularly handsome in a sort of timeless way, with that 40's charm and that lopsided smile, he was kind. And patient- the kind of patient that every man you'd ever come across had not even an ounce of. He was so damn good to you, he made you so happy. And yet you did shit like shrug him off when he tried to be there for you? "What the hell is wrong with you, Y/N" you ask your self, bring your wet hands out of the water to cup your forehead. You felt like you could cry, your eyes stung and waves of dejection rolled over you. Ugh. Stupid period hormones. You got so damn emotional. Happy, irritated, sad. They jumped so fast you couldn't catch them, slipped through your fingers at a rate that was almost scary. After your bath, you slathered yourself with your shea butter, using a special hydrating serum on your face before you shrugged into a pair of not so cute black brief "period panties", a pair of high waisted sleep shorts that we're printed with flamingos and a little black tank top that clung you your meaty sides, rose up a bit so that your mid drift was exposed. You brushed out your (h/l), (h/c) hair, that you had tied up before your bath so it was still dry, and threw it up into a messy bun on top of your head. You'd missed a large chunk in the back but you couldn't be bothered to care. You go to your bed and unassemble it, tossing your many throw pillows to the foot of the bed so that you could climb under the thick comforter, you sigh as you sink down a little into the mattress and the warmth and comfort of being surrounded fills you up. You're missing something though, you notice that nagging feeling. You'd dreamed of your bed all day long and now that you we're in it- it didn't feel as good as you thought it would. Don't get me wrong, you felt like jelly in the soft sheets. But lonely jelly...jelly that wanted to be held... You reach over and grab your phone from it's place on the bedside table, scrolling through your messages, composing a new one. -Where are you? Come to bed?- You send a text to Bucky, chewing a little on your lip. You wanted him next to you, you selfish bitch. You wanted his hands on you, wanted to feel the cool metal of his prosthetic arm on your skin. Wanted him to grab you tight, to nuzzle his scruffy chin against your chest like you loved. Beep. Your phone chimes with a text from Bucky. - I'll be up soon, kitten. I have to finish up training with Steve and Sam. Keep the bed warm for me- He'd even used a little winky emoji at the end. You bark out a laugh, look at your little old, young, man of a boyfriend. Getting good with technology and stuff. You miss him so much it almost hurts. How could you miss him so terribly when you'd just seen him, hours ago? I will. Hurry3 You then reach for the remote, looking for something to watch, to keep your attention on until your man got there. You're about half way through your second episode of Game of Thrones when Bucky comes through the door. His hair is tied up in a untidy bun at the base of his neck and he has on a pair of gray sweat pants and a tight, black pullover. He smiles, that mega watt smile of his when he sees you all curled up in bed and you smile back. God he's so sexy. So...perfect. Because in his hand there is a plate. And on that plate, there is two large slices of cheesecake. "I come baring treats" "Buck" You dramatically whine, closing your eyes and jutting out your lip. He comes over to the bed, leaning down to put the plate on the nightstand and you sit up to meet him, kissing his lips and gripping the side of his neck, your fingers sliding under the collar of his sweater. "Mmm" He mumbles, his lips meeting yours just as enthusiastically, if not a little amused. You'd been so stand offish all day, which he got(he was fully aware of what date it was) and to have you so eager to see him now made him chuckle. Especially when you begin to recline, snaking an arm around his shoulder and attempting to pull him down on top of you. "Y/N" He pulls away, just far enough that he can get the words out. "I've been working out for hours, Sam had us running god damn suicides. I smell something awful" You shake your head, gripping at the hair at the back of his neck, unraveling his bun a bit. "I don't care, I missed you. I'm sorry I've been such a cunt all day" He's gotten used to how harsh your vocabulary is, but he still isn't a fan of the horrible names you call yourself. Even if you did use the word cunt as though it was a normal term and not the wicked insult he'd grown up knowing it to be. "No, kitten" you adore that nickname he had only for you "you had an off day. We all have them, don't apologize for shit you cant control" Your heart swells and you peck his lips again, and then his chin, his nose, his cheeks. Any where you can reach. He takes your affection, basking in your overwhelming light for a moment. In the way what you loved him. He has to force himself to pry away from you. "I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick, okay? Don't pout- I'll be back in a jiffy. Eat some cheese cake and finish your dragon show" He instructs you and you sigh theatrically, but let him go and wash off his day. You watch like a hawk as he peels off the sweater, his bare, muscular back in your line of vison just for a moment before the bathroom light flips on and he goes to start the shower, shuffling out of view. You eat spoonful's of turtle cheesecake and watch the events Westeros play out on the TV...but your distracted. By the ache that you feel in your lower stomach. By the way every hair on your body seems to be standing alert. All you can think about is Bucky pounding the living life out of you, of him making you cum. Trysts from the past, him making your eyes cross with the kind of pleasure you thought you'd only ever get from your vibrator makes you squirm a little bit, your plush thighs pressing together in an attempt to soothe the ache that was only growing. You're thinking of nothing but sex, in all its many amazing shape and forms when Bucky exits the bathroom, flicking off the light behind him, only a towel hanging low on his hips as he goes to your dresser to pull out the clothes he kept there. Oh fuck. You watch him, your eyes drinking in everything about him as he goes to get dressed in his pajamas. His broad shoulders and strong sculpted torso, the way that the muscles move under his skin as he pulls a pair of boxers up his big, muscled thighs before he throws on a muscle tank. It's such a simple action, putting on clothes but to your horny, foggy brain it's the most beautifully erotic thing you think you've ever seen. Does he even know how gorgeous he is? "Y/N!" He calls you from your ogling as he walks over, beginning to climb into bed next to you. "Huh?" you wonder, holding open the layers of bedding so that he can settle in next to you. "I asked has the dragon queen lady and the dwarf guy gotten to the country where the incest twin queen is yet?" He reiterates the question that he had asked you twice before while he was getting dressed. You smiled. He tried with Game of Thrones, he really did for you. He just couldn't get into it, he'd whine. But he still kept up fairly well with the story lines. You raise up so that he can slide his mechanical arm under you, scooting up close so that your skin is touching. His hand is splayed across your shoulder, the metal of his fingers feeling cool against your over heated skin. You throw one of your legs over his and rest your head on the place where his shoulder meets chest. The closeness is killing you; from the heat radiating off his body to the slightly spicy smell of his body wash. And he's holding you, nonchalantly, as though he cant sense the wildfire inside of you. "Mmmhmm, a buncha' fucked up shit happened though" you tell him distractedly as you bite your bottom lip, letting your right hand draw little patterns on his chest, your nails ghosting at the exposed skin there. He scoffs "That's all that ever happens in this show" Why is he not noticing how crazy bad you want him? You wonder as you nuzzle your head into his neck, rubbing your face against his clean skin prickly with his scruff. He pulls you in closer, his head reclining slightly so that he can give you more access to his neck as your drag your open lips up to his jaw, your body is shifting, moving closer. He kisses your hairline, down your temple and then slides his steel hand under the thin, barley there material of your cami, his big palm spreading over the small of you back and the small roll there. You groan at the feeling, at his hands on you finally and he smiles slyly, knowing exactly what you want. "Ahh" Bucky hums, rubbing your back as your leg curls over his thigh more, spreading yourself wider over him, needing to feel something between you legs other then the empty ache. "You need something, kitten?" "Bucky, I'm so horny" You whine and his hand slips even lower, gripping your squishy ass hard and pulling you even closer. You're shaking at how overwhelmingly good it all feels, you grinding onto his thigh, the feeling of his dick fattening more and more everytime your rub against it. "Pretty sure I can help you with that, sweets" He reassures your, his gruff voice breathy as he goes to shift your position, intending to climb on top of you. It hits you then, what time of the month it is. And although you weren't against the idea of period sex, and you knew he wasn't either, you weren't in the mood to deal with any of that right now. You push hard against his chest, stopping his movements and he shoots you a questioning look. "Buck-" He knows what you're going to say already "I know, and you know I don't care" he peppers kisses all over your jaw, down your neck as he whispers it in your ear. You're so tempted...but your also both so clean. "I don't want to deal with the mess" "We'll clean it up after" He pushes on, you haven't stopped grinding against his thigh and his erection is now straining against the front his boxers. "No" you protest, the thought of all that work not appealing in the least "We'll have to change the sheets, and we both just showered" At that very moment, you've never hated having your period more. Your hand is fisted in his hair and his fingers are gripping your ass so firmly, you think he might leave bruises. No matter how hard you grind yourself onto his thick, taut thigh at this angle you cant get enough friction. You're starting to drive him crazy, you've gotten him up there with you, his mind swirling with lust and yet you wont let him do anything about it. "What do you wanna' do then?" The strain in his voice is clear and you bite your lip. Knowing exactly what you wanted. "Lay on your back, baby?" You ask him and he obliges almost instantly, rolling onto his back so that you could strattle his waist. There was a time when you hated being on top, hated the feeling of supporting all of your weight on your knees because you were scared to put it on him. Felt self conscious because you were worried he was looking at your belly while you rode him...yeah, that time had passed. Bucky loved you on top and he let you know it, let you know that no matter how hard you tried you'd never be able to crush him( "I'm a super soldier, kitten) That he loved the way you looked perched above of him. That was no different tonight. That tight little tank top hugged your curves so prettily, your big, yet perky breasts sat in a way that had him groaning and leaning forward so that he could capture one of your nipples that strained against the fabric in his mouth. You yelp as he sucks hard on one of your pebbled nipples through the tank top, grabbing at the root of his still wet hair as he nibbles, his teeth tugging it hard. Like he knows you love. His arms are tight around you, hugging you tight, keeping you immobile. "Baby, ugh" You pull his head to lay back on the pillows by his hair and he looks up at you, the pupils of his baby blues blown. You let go of his hair and wiggle a little so that his arms loosen from around you before you start to move on top of him. It wasn't the ideal...in a perfect world his cock would be buried deep inside of your right now, but you had to manage. You spread your thighs as far as they will go so that your clothed core is pressed right against his covered hard on and start to ride, rubbing yourself down against him as hard as you can. "Fuck yes" you hiss because your finally getting the stimulation you need and it feels so amazing. Buckys hands are holding your love handle laden hips, grinding you down firmly as his hips snap up to meet every movement. It's hypnotic, watching you with your head thrown back, your mouth open and sweet little desperate sounds escaping your lips as you work himself over him frantically. Your tits bounce and he reaches up so that he can thread his fingers in your hair, taking it out of its bun so that it tumbles around your shoulders wildly, leaving you with a halo. He could watch you like this forever. When his hand leaves your hair and glides under your shirt to pinch and tug at your nipples you lose control of your snapping hips, the rhythm of your dry humping going crazy and sporadic as you flail on top of him. "Come on, kitty, just like that" "I'm cumming. Fuck, oh fuck" You whine in a high pitched, desperate tone as you spasm on top of him and he helps steady you, watching you ride out, literally, your orgasm. When you come down, he lets you fall against his chest, your face is pressed against the side of his neck, your gasps as your try to catch your breath in his ear, he groans at the heavenly sounds. You're not a selfish lover. You never have been. Even in the dizzy bliss of post orgasm you know he didn't cum with you so you snake your hand down his chest and into his boxers. "Y/N, ungh, yes" He cant form a complete sentence, can only grunt as you take his hard cock in your hand and rub the precum at the tip with your thumb before you start to pump him. It doesn't take long for your super solider to cum tumbling down beside you. You love the sound of his orgasms, how raw his moans are. You pepper kisses all over his neck, giving his Addams Apple a little lick before you slide off him and back on to your side of the bed. "That was so good" you smile, sated and content "I feel so much better" "I'm glad, kitten" he kisses the top of your hair "you know I love it when you ride me like that, right?" You bite your lip to stifle a giddy little laugh "Yeah, Buck, you've told me" "Mmm, well I'll tell you again. Feel free to climb on and take a ride whenever you want" "I'll keep that in mind" you hug his chest, contentment filling your every pore, you both share the last of the turtle cheesecake before you go to bed and you love your man so god damn much. Cheesecake and orgasms? Isn't that all we need when we're on our period? Oh yeah and our own personal Bucky Barnes. I'm obsessed with him and his man bun.

[101percentindia]

"What Are We Doing For Valentine’s Day", Asks Egyptian Friend. Different Country, New Squad, Same Question

I discovered the meaning of love through friends I made on my travels around the world.

“We’re all single as fuck”, my Brazilian friend says, protectively cradling her bottle of wine, “Man, the pressure, what would a perfect Valentine’s Day even look like?” They look at me. I’m the one with the stories. “Which one do you want - the good one or the other one?” I ask, rolling up my sleeves, swaying slightly. “Both”.

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“We’re all single as fuck”, my Brazilian friend says, “the pressure, what would a perfect Valentine’s Day even look like?”

“When I was living in Paris I had a French boyfriend. True story the French are famous for being romantic, I honestly believe little French boys take a class in wooing 101 growing up. Anyway, he lived in Bordeaux and I lived in Paris so we mostly saw each other on weekends. I’d get off the train to a bouquet of flowers, to a surprise pet store road trip so I could drool over puppies…. Sucha nice boy” “Sucha nice boy - you sound like my mother”. “Why’d you guys break up?” “Shh, don’t distract her”, the Canadian kid wants me to get to the point. “When Valentine’s Day rolled around we’d been dating for a couple of months, he had a big presentation that day so we couldn’t see each other. I spent my first Valentine’s Day in Paris roaming around streets overflowing with happy couples, the love lock bridge every Indian parent's worst nightmare, romance everywhere. I missed him.” Cue collective aww.

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My French boy would pick me up at the station and surprise me with adventures. Image source: media.tumblr.com

“Two days later he called me up with this mad urgency in his voice - my brother got mugged they stole his phone and house keys, can you go down and let him use your phone? His brother lived two streets away. I was mid-nap so now half asleep half freaking out I threw a sweatshirt on over my pajamas, no bra, no make-up and ran down to the gate, my head still scrambling with the French words for you okay, how can I help? I opened the gate and he was standing there with a bouquet of roses, smirking.” “Oh my god!” “These French dudes ruining it for the rest of us.”

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My French guy set some Valentine's Day goals! Image Source: picjumbo.com

“I remember being shocked, half crying half laughing then throwing myself at him, he’d made fancy dinner reservations and booked an Eiffel tower facing Airbnb. No joke. I felt like I was in a movie. The magic of Paris can make even the most cynical person light up.” “AN EIFFEL TOWER FACING AIRBNB, please - too much,” Egypt is having none of this. “It’s sweet” Brazil is tipsy. “It’s cliche.” “Hey come on, everyone needs that one over the top, big romantic gesture. Mine just happened to have a cute French guy and sparkling Eiffel Tower lights. I was so happy that night, so caught up in the fantasy of it.” “What’s the other story?” “Last year I was in Amsterdam around this time, single and still trying to figure out the cheat codes to the city. Amsterdam is well known for being progressive, gender equality so ingrained in society that it isn’t part of the culture for men to make the first move. After a year of being spoilt in Paris, playing the more aggressive role took some getting used to. A week before Valentine’s Day I was checking out this vinyl event at a charming old hotel filled with Dutch hipsters. There was this one guy going through records. The second I saw him my heart skipped a beat. He was tall, pretty, green eyes, messy dark hair. I was looking at vinyls only in his vicinity hoping he would catch my eye. He did, we smiled at each other, then he went back to doing his thing so I gave up. That was a signal and he clearly wasn’t interested.”

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I was looking at vinyls only in his vicinity hoping he would catch my eye. Image source: expoluzrd.com

“Why didn’t you go say hi?” “I dunno I get shy when I’m actually interested. Anyway, so I’m putting on my coat ready to leave and he comes up to me and starts talking in really fast Dutch. I’m sorry I don’t understand, I say and he says “I just wanted to tell you - you have a beautiful smile.” It was such a perfect moment. We end up hanging out all evening, getting drinks at the old hotel. He’s charming and travels a lot too, so the conversation is electric. We make plans to meet the next time he’s free which happens to be Valentine’s Day. I joke about it but he doesn’t seem fazed so there we are, me and my perfect moment boy at his favourite bar on Valentine’s Day. We talk for hours, we have so many stories to exchange, he’d worked in Nepal and travelled with ‘Doctors Without Borders’, which I found really attractive. Bar shuts and the botanical gardens happen to be next door. There’s something I want to show you, he says, and pulls me into the part of the garden by the water. Look. I turn and look out at the water which is filled with rows and rows of beautiful pink flamingoes. It was stunning! We’re drunk and happy and there are flamingoes and I’m thinking this is how Valentine’s Day’s should be, you know, vibing with someone new, getting high off that potential.”

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“Look”. I turn and look out at the water which is filled with rows and rows of beautiful pink flamingoes. Image source: staticflickr.com

“How is your life like this?” “Seriously.” “Calm down ladies. So we go back to his place, I check out his Star Wars figurines, we kiss and touch and talk…it’s all very natural. The next couple of days I wait for him to text me but nothing. No sign. And I’m leaving for Italy soon, then he’s leaving for South America so my crazy starts showing, you know?” “We know.” “I text him to meet up and get a bit annoyed that he’s always busy. Finally he sends me this long text, The Text, about how he just got out of a serious relationship and that we have a great connection but he’s not ready for it to be something more right now. I was pretty heartbroken.” “But… he showed you the fucking flamingoes!” “Right! Don’t show me the fucking flamingoes if you’re going to be emotionally unavailable.” “Cheers to that!” Everyone drinks. “Valentine’s Day is a social construct anyway”, German boy has finally spoken, surrounded by women and wine and love stories. I look over affectionately at my quirky, loving squad made up of people with different cultural backgrounds and different perspectives. I think about how well they understand my energy in the short time we’ve known each other, how easily we make each other laugh and how effortlessly we show up when someone is sick. I think about Valentine’s Day, and I think about love.

Love isn’t always those stories that light up the big screen, love is in the messy details, love is about having someone’s back and bringing out the best in them. While pop culture dictates that it’s depressing to be `single’ on Valentine’s Day, I’d like to think we never really are single. That we all have someone we can call to bail us out of jail, tag in memes, go on an adventure with or just be ourselves around. Every time I’ve fallen into a new time zone I’ve taken my friends from old time zones with me, putting our equation through glitchy Skype calls and sometimes actual tears, where all they can do is sit oceans away and listen. I’ve drunk dialed my friend in Bombay from the middle of a raging Canadian house party and all it took was the sound of her voice to calm me down. That’s love, I think. They know me better than I know myself.

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Love isn’t really the clichéd love stories that light up the big screen! Image source: picjumbo.com

While I like to think I’m independent, it’s only when I find my tribe in a new country that I truly feel centred, my friends giving me roots. They’ve helped me figure out supermarkets in strange languages, driven me to paperwork and plans, introduced me to my favourite bottle of wine, made the foreign familiar. It’s a beautiful evolution, one that picks up wherever you’re at in life asking only that you be real in return. As my friend in Amsterdam just reminded me - “This time last year we were sitting on a bench, blazed, eating strawberries out of a heart shaped box.” She and I have made it through three different time zones together and she’s definitely dancing at my Sangeet (to Desi Girl in case anyone wants to know).

So fuck flamingoes. This Valentines Day find your friends, grab some strawberries in a heart shaped box and have a series of perfect moments.

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are independent views solely of the author(s) expressed in their private capacity and do not in any way represent or reflect the views of 101India.com.

By: Karma Cover photo credit: noticias.terra.com

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