i crush your face

If you love Supergirl check out @plastic-pipes ‘s art, it waters my crops and clears my skin, this piece especially, I keep staring at it, and it’s the one who made me want to draw some supergirl in the first place, thank you for blessing us with it <3

Reign: Who. Is. That. 

Kara: That… That is Lena Luthor.

Reign: Lena Luthor. Stunning. I like her.  

Kara: What? You haven’t even met-

Reign: I’d love to meet her. Is she… what do you call it? Unattached?

Kara: Unattached? Lena? Yeah, she’s, she’s single… No! No, no, no she’s… she’s actually seeing someone. 

Reign: She is? 

Kara: Me.

Reign: You? 

Kara: … Yes. Uh huh. Happily… happily… attached… to me. Hey, quick, lets go over here and see these important things in this direction-

Reign: Oh, look, she’s coming over! Your lady. Won’t you introduce me?

Kara:


Originally posted by cat-danvers

3

pat pats

When you have mad crushes on someone but they have no idea so you just

Originally posted by satanariez

OTP- Part 1- Love Notes

Okay so I know I said I was going to have the network write this but I kinda stole it back because nobody was doing anything (myself included) and I liked the prompt too much so hERE WE ARE!

Genre: Fluff fluff fluff and maybe some angst at some point

Word Count: 932


“You probably do not feel the same, but I simply cannot hold it in any longer. I like you, a lot. From your jet-black fringe to your blue-green eyes with their hint of yellow, to the black Converse on your feet, I admire every inch of you. Despite these wonderful physical features, it’s quite obvious to me that your most admirable trait is your heart. I can only hope this heart is big enough to accept me in it, despite the fact that I cannot yet reveal my identity. I forgive you for my cowardice, but I hope to one day remove the mask I have placed over myself through this note.

Forever yours, 

Your secret admirer.”

Phil read the note to Dan, who sat faking a curious look. “A secret admirer?” 

“Yeah. I found it in my locker. I don’t know who could have left it there.”

“Maybe it’s not really for you? It could have been a mistake.”

“It can’t be. It’s got a detailed description of me, right down to the eyes. How did they even know that?” 

“I don’t know…” Dan immediately regretted going into so much detail. 

“Let’s review what we know. The admirer has been close enough to me to notice every shade of my eyes, and they know my locker number. It could be nearly anyone.” 

Leaning up against the cafeteria wall, Dan let on naivety. “Anyone.” 

“I’ll ask around. I wish our friends knew more girls…” He said, getting up and heading to another table. 

Dan let out a sigh, now alone. He knew Phil was bisexual, but he wished he would open his mind a bit more. He would have been fine with dating a guy, but he for some reason couldn’t comprehend that one liked him. Society had molded him into such a closed-minded person at such a young age that he couldn’t break out of this box. Pulling out his notebook, he transferred all the information he just took in from Phil into a new note. 


“Dearest Philip,

Your cheerful and loving nature continues to entrance me and inspire me to write to you. My trail of cowardice continues, as I shan’t reveal my identity yet. Alas, I will tell you a bit about myself. I am a freshman, the same as you, and I have eyes and hair of chestnut. Most importantly of all, perhaps, I may be closer to you than you think.” Phil looked up from the note he pulled from his locker. “I may be closer to you than you think. What could that mean?” 

“Maybe they’re a friend?” Dan attempted to sound clueless. 

“Oh, that can’t be. You’re my only good friend. Chestnut eyes and hair…” Phil stared into Dan’s chestnut eyes as he spoke. “Who do we know that has chestnut hair and eyes?” 

“I only know myself.”

“I’ll look through last year’s yearbook and try to find some girls with chestnut hair and eyes. I’ll keep you updated!” Phil raced off to find a yearbook, leaving Dan shaking his head. 

“So oblivious…” He smiled at the boy as he ran off down the hallway towards yet another wrong answer. 


The next morning, Dan walked alongside Phil to his locker. “Nothing. I gave a handwriting test to every girl I could find, and none of them matched the notes. I’ve tried every girl in the freshman class. What else is there to do?” He threw open his locker to find another note, opening it up and reading it aloud. 

“Today I shall give you a break from your constant attempts to reveal my identity. Instead, I shall remind you of why I am here in the first place. Philip, you are the sweetest, the most kindhearted boy I know. I have had my eye on you for a long time, but have just now gotten the courage to speak to you, even anonymously. When my identity is finally revealed, you will probably become annoyed with my lack of ability to simply speak up, and I apologize. I care too much for you to risk losing you over something as idiotic as a crush. 

Until I write again, 

Your secret admirer.”

Phil’s face showed pure confusion. “I care too much for you to risk losing you? I’m now confident I must know this girl well. I just can’t think of anyone it could possibly be.” 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually. Or, maybe they won’t be discovered until they really want to. They’re doing a pretty good job of hiding it so far.” 

“You’ve got that right.” Phil sighed as the bell rang for first period. “I’ll see you next period.” Dan headed off to his first class to restlessly wait until he would meet Phil again in his second. 


Phil ran to his locker before second period to get his binder. Opening the creaky door, he found yet another note lying on top of his books. Grabbing his binder, he read it as he walked to second period. 

“Sweetest Philip, 

Oh how oblivious you are. It’s quite adorable, in my opinion. However, your struggles sadden me as well, so I will help you. The reason you haven’t figured out my identity yet is simple: you’ve only searched 50% of the freshman class.”

Phil reached his English classroom and sat down in his desk beside Dan, setting the note on the desk. As he threw his things down, something dawned on Phil. His closed mind had screwed him over yet again. His admirer was correct; he had searched only half of the student population: the female half. Phil’s secret admirer was a boy. 

One more reason to hate Ego with passion:

The dude had the audacity to place a statue of Meredith on his planet, claiming that he loved her, praising what a lovely woman she had been, when he was actually the one who killed her slowly and painfully.

The nerve of that guy.

Guilty Kiss

( The reader teases Peter a little too much, and things get out of hand. )

A/N: My love for Peter Parker ( and Tom Holland ) knows no bounds. And I’m still sobbing over Tom Holland. TBH if I had a boyfriend like Peter, I would tease him every moment I get. Except that I’m usually the flustered shy one. Requests are open, BTW, so send them in!  

Taglist: @mainspidey | @x-wing-starwriter | @tomsleftbrow | @tryn25 


“Where is my evac, Clint?” Your voice is tinged with irritation as you switch on your comm-link. Breathe, (Y/n). Don’t yell. “Clint? Please tell me that you aren’t sleeping on the job.”

Your heels click against the tiled floor of a long, narrow passage. You’ve disabled the two guards stationed at the entrance of the archives before they could raise the alarm but there’s no telling how long it would take before someone competent realizes what’s going on.

“I’m here, I’m here. Sheesh, can’t a guy step out to get a cup of coffee for one second –”

Somewhere in the distance, an alarm erupts, screeching through the airways. Dang it. The patrol must have found the bodies.

“Not when I’m in blind in a Hydra facility. So help me, Clint –”

“Alright, alright, no need to get huffy with me. Besides, Spidey’s got your back.”

A smile flits across your face at the mention of Peter. The awkward, adorable boy is easy to be with, and is even easier to love, and you like him. A lot. You’re sure that Clint can hear the smile in your voice when you say, “He’s securing the perimeter. So no.”

“I’m in Wing C. I think.” Ripping the emergency map off the wall, you consider the corridors and say, “Yeah, definitely Wing C. Files are with me.”

“Nice job, kid. Get to the roof, and I’ll pick the two of you up from there.”

The affectionate nickname sends a wave of warmth crashing over you, and your smile widens. “Sure. See you in ten.”

“Peter, you there?” Turning off your comm-link, you pull your phone out of your pocket, dialling his number by heart. You hope he’ll pick up. “It’s me.”

He does. Peter’s voice sounds as though he’s holding his phone at arm’s length. He’s put you on speaker too; you can hear muffled screams and thumps on Peter’s end, but none of them sound like him. In fact, it sounds as though he’s having fun.

“Spider 1 to Agent 1. Copy. Over.”

You make a mental note to never, ever let Peter watch anymore James Bond movies. His “spy lingo” is downright atrocious.

And for the millionth time since the two of you had started dating, you start to laugh. “You have seriously been watching too many spy movies. Is the perimeter secure?”

“Hey, you watched them all with me! Over.”

He’s avoiding the question, you realize, and your smile falters the tiniest bit. “Peter?”

“Um.” His voice is sheepish as it floats over the speakers. “Um, yeah, it’s secure. More or less. Over.”

“What’s less?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and bracing for bad news.

“Less as in one of the guards may have called for backup before I could stop him. So prepare for incoming. Over.”

“Thanks, Spider 1,” You drawl out sarcastically, your voice rising above a symphony of rapidly approaching footsteps. As yet unnoticed, you duck behind a now abandoned security desk, keeping your voice hushed. “Now could you please get over to Wing C? Our ride’s waiting.”

“Copy that. Spider 1, out. Over.”

There’s a loud commotion. A group of men whisk past you. Six go down the hall you’d come from, and one mutters, “We aren’t paid enough for this.” Some enter the elevators. They’re all dressed haphazardly, as if they’ve been roused from sleep and had had to hurry. There must be a facility close by. Like army barracks, maybe. You’d have to be careful to avoid it.

You gaze longingly at the doors to the stairwell leading to the roof.

Two men stay behind and assume their positions, forcing you to inch your way around the desk to continue to hide your presence. You sit for a moment, trying to decide on your next move.

There’s only one thing to do, really.

Crawling to the end of the desk, you peek out around the edge, noting the exact positions of the guards. Yanking your ICER ( ‘Incapacitating Cartridge Emitting Raygun’ ) out of your thigh sheath, you cock your weapon and fire. Sticky pellets containing 50,000 volts find their way into bare skin. Their bodies perform involuntary twitching dances; they’re unconscious by the time they hit the ground.

Your heels click as you stride forwards, picking your way over motionless arms and legs. The door to the stairwell flies open, a black-clad figure appears in the doorway. Oh, well. Too late to hide now. Shrugging, you walk closer, but no one else comes to stop you. Fixing a pleasant smile onto cherry red lips, you ready your ICER.

“Hey, baby,” The mook leers, eyes lingering far too long on your chest and legs for your liking. “Did you come here to play?”

Gross. Your smile slips. You’ve just taken out two of his underlings, and that’s the best he can come up with? Forget the ICER; you’re going to enjoy beating this guy up. You aren’t going to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you tuck your ICER back into your thigh sheath and shift into a defensive position.

“That’s funny, babe. Where did you learn that? On TV?”

Okay. One response. A stinging anticipation winds through you as you stalk forwards. “Why don’t you come over here and find out?”

When he makes his next move – a punch that practically oozes contempt and confidence – you’re ready. You duck, avoiding impact, and he swipes air. You deliver a vicious kick, buckling his knees. As he goes down with a yelp of pain, you elbow him in the back of the head. Yeah. Forget honour. You’ll go with dirty.

He attempts to rise. You waste no time in leaping onto him, planting yourself on his neck and pinning his shoulders to the floor. As far as most deaths go, this one isn’t all together unpleasant; at least this creep is being suffocated by the thighs of a girl, which is more than he deserves.

“My name is not babe. I’m (F/n) (L/n), and I am this close to crushing your misogynistic skull with my thighs.”

His face is turning a funny shade of puce. You let him suffer for a few more seconds before you pull out your ICER and stun him.

“Holy shit.”

Peter’s soft, awe-filled whisper catches you completely off guard. From your place atop of the Hydra mook, his face still crushed between your thighs, you offer Peter a wicked grin, which makes his heart stutter in his chest. He gulps audibly, a gesture which does not go unnoticed by you.

Relax, Peter,” You purr, looking up at him from under thickly dusted lashes. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to see you crush him with your thighs,” Peter manages, his gaze ping-ponging from the mook unconscious on the floor to your unconventional seat, your face radiant and flushed and pretty. “I don’t know why I rushed over.”

“Because you love me?” Batting your eyelashes, you smile a sweet, sweet smile, looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. “And your life would have a noted lack of (Y/n) if I wasn’t around?”

Much to your surprise, Peter actually nods. You can’t see his face under his mask, but you know Peter’s smiling over the blush that paints his cheeks. Huffing out a laugh, you release the male from your clutches, straightening your skirt and thigh highs. Unlike Agent Romanoff, who prefers skin-tight spandex during combat, you’re particularly fond of skirts, which allow for ease of movement.

That, and it’s easier to take down people when they’re busy ogling your bare legs.

Peter’s trying not to stare. The operative word being ‘trying’. He’s manfully covered the eye-holes of his mask, but his fingers are splayed too widely for them to truly be effective at blocking your figure out.

You keep a neutral, pleasant smile on your lips as you stand, the one that Peter hates because he can’t tell what you’re hiding. An idea is forming in your head, the gears in your mind turning. You feel a bit mean for what you’re about to do, but the desire to see Peter squirm wins out.

Slowly, deliberately, you hitch your skirt up so that it settles high up on your hips, revealing the wide gap of skin between your stockings and your skirt. Your tongue darts out to swipe across glossy lips as you walk over to Peter, swaying your hips strictly more than necessary.

You’re rewarded with a strangled squeak. He’s given up his charade of “a little peeking”, and is unabashedly staring at every shimmy and shake of your hips. You’re sure Peter knows exactly what you’re playing at, but he doesn’t have it in him to tell you to stop, it seems.

Peter’s stammered protests are swallowed up when you push up his mask to press a kiss to his lips. It starts slow at first, but soon speeds up into something wild. His hands settle on your hips while yours try to tug his shirt off – only to remember that he’s in spandex, not cotton. You groan in frustration, Peter hastily untangles himself from you and hastily backs away.

(Y/n)!” Peter sounds scandalized as he tries to protest again, his voice dazed and accusatory all at the same time – although he doesn’t sound all that mad that you’d technically seduced him into an impromptu make-out session in a Hydra base. “We’re still – We can’t!”

“I know, I know,” You say on a laugh, giving him a last, quick peck on the mouth before Peter tugs his mask back into place, hiding cheeks tinted pink. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t resist.”

Dropping your voice into a conspiratorial whisper, “I’ll take care of your, ah, problem later at home, okay?”

You dance off down the hallway with a laugh, your skirt still hitched up high, swishing around your thighs as you go. Peter groans from behind you, and you wave cheerily at him over your shoulder.

You can’t wait to get back home.

And the “Big Brother of the Year” Award goes to…

Jason: *whistling on the way to the kitchen*

Jason: *passes by Tim and Damian’s shared bedroom*

Jason: 

Tim: *twirls his bo staff* I’m looking forward to crushing that little, adorable baby face of yours! 

Damian: *brandishes his katana* You can try, Drake!

Tim and Damian: *charge at each other* RAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGH!!!

Jason: 

Jason: *shrugs*

Jason: *whistling on the way to the kitchen*  

Check To The Heart (Part 10)

Bucky x Reader

Modern day Hockey AU

SUMMARY: You are the daughter of one of the greatest hockey players to ever play the game, now as owner of the Avengers, he is bringing your childhood crush Bucky Barnes to the team.  The minute he sees you in your father’s office, you can tell by the smirk on his face he hadn’t forgot about your crush either.  This is going to be fun.

CTTH Masterlist


You wake up in your bed with calloused fingers trailing gently up and down your arm.   You for a brief moment wonder how you got in your bed, when you remembered falling asleep on Bucky’s chest in the living room.  You turn so you are laying on your back and look at Bucky.  His hair was tousled from sleep, the cut on his cheek had healed some, his black eye however darkening overnight.

You reach out a hand and gently run your fingertips over the blackest part of his bruise carefully watching his eyes for any sign of pain.  He takes your hand in his kissing each of your fingertips just as gently as you had touched him.  “Good morning sweetheart.”

You give him a smile and stretch your arms over your head before looking towards the alarm clock on the bedside table.   “Don’t you have practice today?”

Bucky gives you a grin, wrapping his arm around your waist he pulls you to him. His other arm supporting his head as he looks down at you, “Nope have an off day.  I figured we could stay in bed all morning and then get some lunch before going to check on Steve.”

You pretend to think for a moment, trying not to let your happiness show at the fact he wanted to spend one of the few days he off with you. “I think that would be okay.”

Bucky tickles your side a bit with a mock indignant look on his face, “Just okay?  Jeez sweetheart I thought you liked me?”

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