glory girl ♱

𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 ❀ 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐌

[pinkhoodi]

SUMMER WINX SPOTTED🍹 𖤓 ⋆˚࿔ MIA MORA is spotted sippin tequila and getting lyrics wrong AGAIN !

꒰ FAIRY OF THE SEASONS ꒱ 𖤓˚࿔ black. caribbean ( haitian ) american. certified girl kisser. twentythree — july bby. barbie && ever after high enthusiast. PINKHOODI, the digital space for mia’s thoughts, moodboards, and one shots, enjoy 🫧

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟨 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[kosmogrl]

the fact that chris brown is still a thing is concerning

[kosmogrl]

imagine idolizing this piece of shit

[wisteria-bae]

It took him assaulting a man for them to finally go, “maybe he does need to be locked up” btw.

[princess-angel-23]

When you're a black girl in a mostly white fandom

[fluoresensitives]

Little Black girls, you will always have my blade. The way people treat you, even your own mothers, as monsters, call you "fast", blame you and hate you... AHHHH LITTLE BLACK GIRLS, LIVE! SURVIVE! THRIVE!

[lovelymylene]

“i’m bored let’s crack” girl this has been stuck in my head ever since u said it🤭 idk if u take requests but if u do, plssssss, i need it for toxic ex bf or sneaky link Jobe or Yamal. Like, imagine them sending you “I’m bored, come get cracked” text 💀💀💀

EX! JOBE BELLINGHAM warnings BLACK !FEM. cursing, toxic, suggestive READER

this was so fun to make omg

WORKING ON A LAMINE FIC NOWW

[tinasnowz]

MEGAN THEE STALLION via Instagram | August 13, 2026

[kittykatzone]

atta birthday boy  ೀ peter parker

content warning ᭥ peter parker x black!fem!reader, celebrations, established relationship, fluff, kinda touch starved Peter, he’s a yearner + needs something to smile about, 1.1K wc, semi proofread

summary ᭥ it’s Peter’s birthday, which he’s seemed to forget, but don’t worry, you’re here to the rescue, or you make Aunt May's infamous wheatcakes for his birthday

August 10th

While it was a regular day for others, it held special significance because it was your boyfriend's birthday. You pondered what to get Peter for his 22nd—shoes, money, something that would not necessarily wow him but definitely leave an impression.

He had come home late last night, slightly bruised from getting into God knows what with whatever person he had to fight. After you patched up the exhausted hero, he fell asleep the exact moment his face hit the pillow. With how exhausted he was from dragging himself out to fight bad guys every single day, you wouldn't be surprised if he completely forgot about his birthday today. Between Aunt May’s death and the spell that made everyone forget who Spider-Man and by extension, Peter Parker was, his own birthday was frankly the last thing on his mind.

Landing on the perfect way to celebrate: a completely free, self-care day dedicated entirely to him. It was his birthday, and he more than deserved it after being New York City's personal punching bag.

You quietly slip out of bed, planting your feet onto the cool wooden floors with absolute precision so you wouldn't alert him. Hearing a disgruntled murmur, you turned to see Peter shift slightly in his sleep. His face scrunched up, probably dreaming of beating up bad guys—or getting beaten up himself. Letting out a quiet scoff at your own train of thought, you turned back around and headed toward the kitchen.

A sigh escaped you as you looked at the state of his fridge. Energy drink, bottle of water, energy drink, eggs, energy—you stopped yourself before you could continue and develop a burning hatred for caffeine. You had used them from time to time, but goodness, how many did one person need? Looking at the painstakingly semi empty and, frankly, sad fridge, you grabbed the ingredients needed for wheatcakes. Thankfully, basic items like milk and eggs were already there.

You knew how much Peter loved Aunt May’s wheatcakes from the way his eyes twinkled whenever he spoke about them, even showing you pictures of a younger version of himself stuffing his face. Why not surprise him with it for his birthday? You were nervous, to say the least. It wasn't that you were a horrible cook, far from it, but this specific dish held a deeply important place in Peter’s heart. The pressure was definitely a tiny bit high.

Shaking yourself out of your self-induced panic, you stared at the ingredients on the counter with determination and got to work.

One teaspoon of baking soda. Four tablespoons of melted butter. Two different types of flour?

After separating the dry ingredients from the wet, you whisked them together to form a smooth batter. You turned on the stove, listening to it click before blue flames rose under the pan. Tossing in a scoop of butter, you watched it melt across the hot surface. This was so gonna be worth it. At the thought of making Peter his favorite dish, you grabbed the bowl.

Drying your hands after washing the dirty dishes, you turned to admire your work on the counter: five wheatcakes neatly stacked, with scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and a tall glass of orange juice, all arranged on a tray. Now for the final touch. With a little skip towards the front door, you retrieved a small black bag tucked in the corner behind your shoes. Inside were birthday candles.

Feeling giddy about your surprise, you ran back to the food, your scarf slipping off slightly from the sudden movement. Readjusting the knot with your left hand, you opened the pack, picking out two candles—one red, one blue—as a fun little poke at his suit colors. You dug it into the warm wheatcakes and opened the drawer to your right for the lighter. Done. Your masterpiece was complete, with two flames burning bright and flickering occasionally.

Alright, now just to make it to the bedroom.

Balancing the tray, you walked slowly so as not to let anything topple over, gently pushing the door ajar to pass through.

Peter was still sleeping, though more on your side and hogging the sheets. He looked peaceful—relaxed, even. Too bad he had to wake up now.

Moving to the right side of the bed, maneuvering around the squeaky floorboards under your weight, you sat down on the edge. You gently tapped him, to which he grumbled and rolled over.

“Peter,” you whispered, poking him more. Whatever he was saying was gibberish.

“Peter,” you called out to him, your tone a little louder as you shook him. “Wake up.”

Peter started to rouse from his sleep, looking disgruntled.

“I’m a big potato,” he muttered out.

Potato? Your eyebrows cinched together at his bizarre choice of words, but you quickly dismissed it as one of his weird dreams.

“We’re going to Staten Island,” you joked, looking at him with a deadpan expression.

That did the trick. Peter jolted upright in bed haphazardly. “You can’t go to Staten Island!” he shouted in a deeply concerned voice before sudden confusion settled over his features. He rubbed his face with both hands, trying to help his bleary eyes adjust to the morning light.

“Happy Birthday.” With a smile on your face, you raised his breakfast tray slightly, eyes darting from his face to the food, adjusting yourself on the bed. “Make a wish,” you pushed the tray towards him.

Seeing the tray full of food properly, he couldn’t help but be in awe, especially with “Aunt May’s wheatcakes,” he whispered, swallowing a lump in his throat, casting his eyes toward you.

“Well, not exactly hers, but—” Peter cut you off with a sudden, tender kiss. Pulling away with a soft smile and glossy eyes.

“Thank you.” his voice cracked. You smile at him, a small laugh escaping you. “Are you gonna blow out your candles, birthday boy?” in a teasing tone.

Reciprocating your smile, scooting closer, Peter closes his eyes for a moment before opening them and blowing out the flames, smoke trailing from the once-lit candles. Gleefully you pepper his face with kisses.

“Alright, dig in. I have a whole day planned for you,” you stated with your best poker face.

“Whoa, an entire day for me?” Peter chuckled, holding up a piece of wheatcake towards you.

“Yes, unfortunately.” Playfully rolling your eyes, you went to eat the piece before Peter pulled the fork away. Sending him a pointed look, you watched as he laughed before bringing his face closer for a kiss.

“Happy Birthday, Spidey,” you muttered before planting a kiss on his lips.

note ᭥ #needthat but i found out he’s a leo and as one myself why not give him a birthday fic 😝 shoutout to my fellow leo’s. Ignore the plot holes I wrote this at 3 a.m. + didn’t expect this to be long (I’m not a writer so take it easy on me)

[devinemist]

how it felt switching from wattpad to tumblr

[cravemyhoney]

humanvibrator!storm x black!reader

thinking about how because storm is able to form electricity directly from her hands she uses it to her advantage when it comes to you. whenever you two are engaging in sex, she form electricity ; not too much to where it zaps you but just enough to form a vibration. she’d then proceed to press her hand against one of your most sensitive parts. she’d smirk as she watch your face contort into a series of different expressions of pleasure. sometimes she’d turn up the electricity if she really wanted to push you to the edge. “it’s okay baby; jus’ take it.” she’d coax in your ear while licking the shell of it.-

but there would also be other times that she’d do this; one of them being when she’s eye level with your essence and using her long fingers to rub tight circles around your clit. the sounds of your moans as she sent vibrations to your bundle of nerves were pure bliss to her ears, the pace of her fingers swirling around your nub suddenly speeding up as she saw your muscles tensing and your back slightly arching up off of the mattress. she’d use her powers to slightly crank up the electricity; giving you more of a push to bring you to your peak and before you knew it you were moaning out in ecstasy. your eyes rolling back and your limbs shaking. storm looked down at your pussy and bit her bottom lip as she watched your juices gush out of you.

taglist! @oakiewritestew @aizawash0e @li-da-savage @omgffs @babythugga @plan3tch1ld @pinkkfantasy @neighbourscat @cleodadon @underated345-blog @0ffth3walll @emerald-kozume @backlikearash2 @shotacidal @mrskamikazekaito

[glowcowboy]

anyway everybody say thank you black women i love you black women

[pinkhoodi]

men think they’re spiderman and whole time, they’re the joker

[xjyuto]

Now that we ALL saw, yes WE ALL saw that Peter parker has more preference to black girls, can we get more black!reader x Peter parker or black ocs on this fandom pls, cmon black divas do your thang...

[pinkhoodi]

saw spiderman again. now I wanna cry

[deergrande]

I was born in the right generation I love tumblr , pinterest , online shopping , peter parker and rafe cameron

[pinkhoodi]

every time I open tumblr, there’s always something going on with the michael jackson side of that app. what is going on ?? war ????

[neighbourscat]

ᨳ𐔌՞҂ ˕ ֊՞𐦯ᜊ ᵎᵎ signed, spidey ಄ ⡞⠳⣄⣀⣠⠞⢷ ֹ۪ 𝙥𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 .ᐟ ㅤX𝑜x𝑜 𑁤

𖢥 ˚ 𓉯ྀ ͚ 𓂃 ˖ ࿔ ───── 𝖘𝒾𝓍𝓉𝓎-one letters over four nights. and counting. thirty from their sender, thirty-one replies. each letter looked as likely as the others. the essence of his next-door neighbour was impossible to mistake. there were a few letters, maybe twenty back, where he tried…tried to match that energy. the fun. the artistry. but he didn’t have the materials. not like his next-door neighbour…who’d been in that space for a while. crayons, markers, stickers, pom-pom balls, tinsel pieces. all that good stuff.

he looked at the strew of parchment papers on the foot of his bed…and then plucked for two colours. red and blue. because his neighbour knew, and for the most part…found it cool. ‘just cool’, he’d seen in one letter. he wrote back wondering why it’d been ‘just cool’?…and received: ‘i don’t have you on a pedestal like everyone out that window. xo’. ouch. but he couldn’t be upset. not really. that was real and it was honest.

the letter after had asked: ‘without that, who would you be?’…a total left turn. and he didn’t respond. he couldn’t. because to understand himself required willingness to look at flaws and past mistakes without hiding from them. and the young man behind that spiderman mask hid a lot. from everyone…and anyone. ‘maynard? what? are you german? seriously, how did you even come up with that?’ … ‘honestly, i panicked. i was thinking about everything and nothing all at once. one of the strangest moments of my life.’

the butterflies were pretty sloppy. but he knew his neighbour really liked butterflies. and flowers. and the stars too. spiderman lifts the blue pen from the lined paper and begins folding and folding and folding until it was compact enough to squeeze into his paper-pressed envelope. he gets out of bed with a pained groan, head swimming and feet numb—after four nights, the dizziness was trying to get better.

he slipped both feet into his provided slippers, with the sticky-bubble-things at the bottom and gripped the chilly pole. if he wanted to leave his room, he had to take this pole. the intravenous bags were decorated in spiderman-faces and pizza-prints; from gifted booklets. then, he snatched his mask up, which was hanging from the footpanel…spiderman pulled the shield over his face before turning that knob and tipping out of the door, gown wagging behind him.

he loved how those wheels sounded above the tile. they were wonky and wiggled out of place every once in a while. spiderman thinks it’s intentional though. the loud chugging keeps the night-shift nurses alert and on their toes. because there were people here with self-defeating habits who enjoyed hanging out on the roof. mm.

spiderman landed at his neighbour’s door. it takes him a moment to strain his back downward and toss the envelope beneath the available opening. he straightens up fully, coughing, and leans in, peeking through the fuzzy glass. it wasn’t too opaque, he could see a figure…his neighbour; who’s pulling pink latex glues over both hands.

he’s nothing but a floating spider-mask to you. so creepy. disturbing. but intriguing.

after adjusting the tubes around your ears—mindful of escaped coils—and the prongs of the nasal cannula, you shuffle over and crouch for spiderman’s letter. chunky flowers. lopsided flowers. mix-matched shaped stars. “oh, wow…what’s with the bump in quality?” it’s cool how his lenses contract and tweak slightly. almost like, if his brows were wiggling. or whatever.

“you’ve inspired me,” spiderman said, bare fingers tracing the outline of the steel handlebar. “mind sharing some colours?” that’s when you blink over a shoulder and stare at the shelf filled with creative utensils. extensive, it was. but needed. and definitely not happening. he can stick to his blue and black pens. sorry, spidey. “i’ll see how i feel after reading this,” waving his letter about. “what’d you write?”

he released the handlebar and clapped that cold hand over his thigh. “that’s for you to open and find out…” he’s blushing so hard, he’s about the same colour of red as his mask. softly rocking using the tips of his slippers, “but, uhmm-i think you’ll really like this one…i’ve…cleaned up my handwriting some-you’re welcome.”

spiderman’s holding his left hand against the cool wood just beneath the window. he guessed the small point of contact made distance feel a little less…fixed. he doesn’t know it, but on the opposite side of the locked door…your right hand has found the same spot. palm settled without the slightest idea that his was already there.

“thanks. only had to beg in about forty letters,” and he can hear the wheeze of both lungs working tiredly to fill with air through the blanket of mucus. you prayed that when spiderman came over, your breathing would be a little less laboured. a little less terrible. “…is there anything i can do?” his lenses dip in patent sadness, “please-let me get you something.”

well, if he had a fresh pair of lungs in his gown pocket. sure! that would be freaking awesome. and totally life-changing. but he wasn’t that super. so, “how about’a pepperoni pizza and brownies?”

yea. yeah. peter can do that.

[wiinterz]

hate it whenever a character is canonically with a black girl/woman and then the non-black shippers, ship that person with a non-black character and say they look better/they fit better. i get shipping, and crack shipping but the underlying microaggression in that statement cannot be ignored. i’ve been seeing people do this with tom holland’s peter parker for years now. even recently with francesca bridgerton and michaela stirling and mel medarda and jayce. or when people were open to the idea of tom welling’s clark kent being with rachael davenport and lots of racists in that fandom were up in arms about a crack ship…over a twenty-four-year-old show.