Welcome to Marvel, where we make our Strong Empowered Black Women selfish jackasses who use their powers to steal from others for their own gain and then expect you to see them as heroes.
Have the almighty writers hand her as many unearned moments as you want. You'll never come close to what Tony managed to do in a cave, with a box of scraps.
The problem is she's right, and men hate that. (Im a Tony fan before you come at me) Tony wouldn't have BEEN in that cave if he didn't have his company or his money!
Riri is a GREAT example of the sexist and racist fans that Marvel has.
You just keep telling yourself that while Marvel sets Disney's money on fire. It's not that they stopped telling good stories, it's that everyone who doesn't like them is a bigot. It's the audience's fault for not liking what the megacorp says they're supposed to like, just like with video games.
Like i said last time, Riri and the Ironheart show is a great example of racist and sexist fans that Marvel has. "Oh no things are woke!" No marvels ALWAYS been 'woke' Thats WHY the Xmen were created. Do I like the way Disney does things with Marvel or Star Wars? Not always but like im not hating it for it being a woman or a black person!
Welcome to Marvel, where we make our Strong Empowered Black Women selfish jackasses who use their powers to steal from others for their own gain and then expect you to see them as heroes.
Have the almighty writers hand her as many unearned moments as you want. You'll never come close to what Tony managed to do in a cave, with a box of scraps.
The problem is she's right, and men hate that. (Im a Tony fan before you come at me) Tony wouldn't have BEEN in that cave if he didn't have his company or his money!
Riri is a GREAT example of the sexist and racist fans that Marvel has.
# my favourite part about this post # is that nowhere does it say to reblog this # but we’re all reblogging it # because if we have to suffer # so do other writers
notes ✥ i think his eyes would give starry sparkle bright flicker when he's jealous ehehe
content ✥ gn!reader, murphy and cat is my fav genre
“Dream, look!”
Morpheus stops his track when you suddenly exclaim excitedly, shaking his arm. His eyes travel to the direction you’re pointing at and he sees a rotund black cat walking towards the both of you. You gasp and crouch, making a gesture with your hand to call the cat to you.
“Come here, kitty.” You say softly. The black cat meows and jogs towards you. His belly jiggles and you squeal in adoration. The friendly cat bumps his head against your hand, purring.
“He’s so friendly, aww…” You coo as you carefully carry the cat into your arms. You look at Morpheus and a little smile is already on his face. His dark irises are not on the cat, however. Rather, they’re firmly on you.
“Don’t you think he’s cute?” You say. Morpheus looks at the cat. The cat meows at him, his fluffy paw clawing the air in front of the Dream King.
“Yes, he is.”
“Ah, right. Didn’t your sibling, Desire, say that you tend to turn into a cat—”
“Desire,” Morpheus cuts you off. His voice is firm and layered with a little irk towards his sibling. “Desire was merely jesting. I advise you to not trust their words, lest you would succumb to their cruel tricks.”
“… Right…” You snicker. You turn to the fat cat, giggling at the way the cat squints his eyes at you, so lovingly. “But don’t you think being a cat has its benefits? Like, everyone just loves you.” You smooch the black cat, causing him to meow. “And you would be taken care of all of your life. You just have to look cute and sit in a box!” You kiss the cat again.
For a second, Morpheus’ eyes flicker and you certainly do not miss that. That flicker is bright—a sudden light from within the void.
“It would certainly be an easy life.” Morpheus nods. His voice is dark and sultry, yet very soft. “Your clothes are dusty now.”
“Huh?” You look down at yourself, realising how your shirt has some grass and dirt on it. You scoff, kissing the cat again. “You’ve been playing a lot, kitty? Yeah, you do,” You giggle before you kiss the cat’s head once more.
Morpheus’ eyes flicker. Again.
You look at him, one eyebrow perks up. You grin teasingly at him. “Dream, don’t tell me you’re jealous of some kisses on a cat?”
i recommend learning other alphabets if for no other reason than it’s very fun to see people replace latin alphabet letters with complete nonsense for Aesthetic
okay, fine. but only because you asked so nicely. 😘
Title: Play Pretend
Summary: You play dumb to get help from some nerd in your Stats class, but end up biting off more than you can chew.
Warnings: College AU, Bimbofication, Manipulation, D/S if you squint, Smut
A/N: look i just wanted an excuse to write bimbo!reader, okay?
”Me?” Peter points at himself incredulously. The chubby kid—his friend, you don’t remember his name—elbows him. Peter simply stares at you, like he’s trying to work out whether or not you’re really there, really talking to him.
“Don’t be stupid,” his friend hisses, before flashing a grin at you. You’re tempted to roll your eyes but you don’t, keeping your pouty, hopeful smile in place. Peter’s cheeks go pink as he averts his gaze. “Yes, he’d love to tutor you.”
“Really?” You clap your hands together. “Oh thank goodness. Do you have time today? The test is tomorrow and I’m just so worried—”
The bait’s barely dangled before he’s fumbling over himself to grab it.
“Yes, I mean, of course I do, I’ll help. I’d love to, um, to help you.” You’re used to men looking at you the way Peter Parker looks at you, a heady mix of admiration and want that rushes straight to your ego.
“Thank you so much.” You flip a curl over your shoulder. “Let’s say tonight at five?”
—
You scowl as you check your grades on the school’s website. You had managed to pull up from the nose-dive you’d been in all semester long, but this Statistics class is going to be the death of you. The dressing down you’d gotten from your father had been particularly rough, and you don’t think his threat to withdraw any and all financial support is just talk.
But the numbers all just form gibberish on the page, and you understand the concepts about as well as you understand rocket science. Academic probation—that was what your advisor had called it.
One more F and you’re out of here.
You can’t take that final exam—which is why you’re going to get Peter Parker to take it for you.
Your phone buzzes, the screen lighting up.
Hey, I’m here!
You grin. Showtime.
You’d arranged for Erin and Jerrica to be out, leaving the suite empty for your “study session” with Peter. They won’t be back until nearly ten—but you don’t think you’ll need five hours to break Peter Parker. There’s a knock at the door, and you take your time fixing your lipstick in the hall mirror before answering. He looks eager, his hair windswept from the bike ride, cheeks pink and eyes bright.
“Come in, please,” you step aside to let him in, brushing your chest against his arm as he passes. You pretend you don’t notice the contact, smiling innocently up at him. “Thanks so much for coming to help me, I’m so lost.”
“Let’s, um, let’s take care of that,” Peter replies, fiddling with the strap of his back-pack. “Um, where should I…” he trails off as you shut the door.
“Oh, sorry,” you giggle, tapping your head with a finger like you’d forgotten. “My room. The girls might be back and I don’t want to bother them.” You grab his hand and the palm is only a little sweaty as you lead him towards your room. There’s nowhere for both of you sit but the bed, and you guide him down to it, the textbook open on the duvet between you. Peter begins pulling his own study materials out of his bag.
“So let’s start with probability,” he flips through the textbook.
“Um, I was sort of hoping we could… get more basic.” You reply, schooling your expression into one of shame. “I’m sorry, I’m so stupid.”
“Y-you’re not stupid! There’s loads of things more important than, um, being good at statistics.”
“Not for me.” You say, looking down at your hands. “Can I tell you something, Peter?” He looks at you eagerly. The same way all men look at you when they think you’re letting them in. Giving them a window, a doorway, any route to your heart.
“Of course!” He answers quickly. “Anything!”
“I… I think if I fail this class, I’ll fail out.” You look down at your hands to give your eyes time to water. “I’m doing my best—” You really, really haven’t been, unless being a regular at campus frat parties counted—“but it’s just so hard.” You sniffle. “It’s easy for you, you’re like, a genius.” You slather the flattery on thick as you lean against him.
“I-I’m not—You’re—” Peter swallows thickly. “That’s really, um, sweet of you to s-say. B-but you have a lot going for you too.”
You wipe at a tear, offer in him a watery smile. “Really?” His face flushes pink.
“Of course, you’re, um, you’re really beautiful, and um, I read your essay in our English class last year, it was really good—” He rambles, eyes flicking down to the place where your fingers are touching on the bedspread. You pretend not to notice.
“You really think so?” You curl a lock of your hair around your finger, biting your lip. His eyes follow the motion eagerly. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“Y-yes.” Peter runs a nervous hand through his hair. “You’re a-amazing.” You look away coyly, a soft smile playing on your trembling lips.
“If only that was enough to pass,” you reply, smile faltering. “I have so much riding on this,” you sniff, crocodile tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. “My dad would be so disappointed in me…” You trail off, wiping at your damp cheeks. “I’d do anything to keep that from happening.” You can hear Peter’s breath coming hard and fast as he stares at you with wide eyes. You push further, placing a hand lightly over his own.
He’s not bad looking when you really look at him.
Behind the hoodies and books he’s actually pretty hot.
“I, um, I want to help,” he stammers. “But I, um, I don’t really, uh, know how? To do that, I mean. Other than take the test for you, which is, you know, way out of the question, oh—” You draw your thumb slowly across the back of his hand, pressing closer. You aren’t wearing a bra, and you know he can feel your nipples through your shirt as you sigh.
“I know it’s asking a lot.” Your thigh is pressed against his, now, and when you squeeze his hand you can feel his pulse racing. You bat your eyelashes, raking your teeth along your full bottom lip. “But I really did mean it when I said I’d do anything.”
“A-anything?” You lean closer, one hand on his chest, the other resting on the comforter between his legs, less than a centimeter away from the half-hard outline you can see through his pants.
“Anything.”
—
“Open your mouth. Stick your tongue out.” Peter slaps the thick weight of his cock against your tongue with a wet thwack. He slides back and forth, pressing in until his tip bumps the back of your throat and then pulling out again. He grins when you gag, holding your head still as he ruts against your face. Drool leaks from the corners of your mouth, dripping down to where Peter’s heavy balls slap wetly against your chin.
He pulls away after a moment, thin strands of your saliva running from your wet lips to the head of his cock. Dizzily you stare up at him, eyes glassy.
How did I get here?
You try to remember as you kneel naked on your bedroom floor with Peter towering over you, the head his thick cock only inches from your face. You’d been in control at the beginning, fielding Peter’s eager kisses as his hands played at the hem of your skirt. You aren’t sure when his gentle suggestions had become orders, ones that make your busy brain go blissfully blank when you follow them.
“I didn’t tell you to stop.”
His cock still tastes like you, and your pussy clenches down hard around nothing at the ghost of the feeling of him inside of you. You take him down to the base, ignoring your body’s protests at the intrusion as you peer up at him through your lashes.
“That’s it,” he pants. “Good girl. Don’t think. Just do what I tell you, Sweetheart.” You nod dumbly, mumbling around his cock. You nurse him for a few minutes, tongue swirling around the throbbing head before he pushes you off. “I want to cum in your pussy again.” You scramble up to your feet, watching as Peter sits leisurely in your desk chair, legs spread.
“Well?”
You scramble into his lap, whining as he lines himself up with your slick, swollen entrance. Peter grins against your throat as he lowers you down, savoring every inch.
“Thought I was stupid, didn’t you, Sweetheart?” He asks, rolling his hips up into yours. “But that’s you, isn’t it? My sweet, stupid girl. S’why you’re failing.” He reaches down to flick at your clit with his thumb, and you practically convulse as you nod.
There’s a knock at your bedroom door just as Peter drops you down again, stars bursting before your wide, unseeing eyes as you gasp and whine. Dimly, you are aware that the clock on your bedside table reads 10:30, and that your roommates are back from their self-imposed exile.
”Hey, you alive in there?”
“Yeah, you said you wanted to grab dinner when you were done with Operation Nerd.” Peter slams you down on his cock again, and you let out a strangled moan. “Wait a minute—”
“She’s busy,” he snarls through gritted teeth. “Take a rain-check.”
once i believed the funniest thing marvel had ever done was send wilson fisk to couples therapy. that was until last wednesday evening when i watched obidiah stane be hoovered up off the floor
once i believed the funniest thing marvel had ever done was send wilson fisk to couples therapy. that was until last wednesday evening when i watched obidiah stane be hoovered up off the floor
If I had a penny for every time marvel released a movie or tv series that contained a character that wore blue, is in their mid thirties and traumatised from their early childhood as well as burdened with great and insurmountable power
….i would have two pennies (which is a lot considering marvel doesn’t do this shit very often IF at all).
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