After years of Spider-Man being called a menace…. It’s Peter Parker’s turn!

Spider-Man thinks he’s being racist???

Lesson 101 in Spider-Class. It’s thwip thwip not pew pew.

Never change Spidey, never change!

I’ve wanted to “punch in” at work like this with a few of my bosses.

Because Marvel refuses to allow any of its’ twists to have longterm consequences within the MCU, it’s pretty obvious they’re going to find a way to cover-up/explain away Mysterio revealing Peter’s true identity with some dumb plot device. And I’ve seen some great fan theories and concepts (like Matt Murdock being hired to represent Peter in court) but I’d like to present something much more ridiculous and dare I say realistic.

Spider-Man is proved to not be Peter Parker through the meticulous data collection and evidence provided by an incredibly popular Spider-Man fan blog, that is anonymously run by someone who proves they’re a classmate of Peter Parker and proves that Peter was in places that Spider-Man was at the same time. Class pictures with timestamps, opera tickets, school event dates, all of which Peter was accounted as present for. Along with the evidence, the blog makes some damningly good arguments about how Peter Parker was only chosen out of convenience. The blog scrounges up documentation of Quentin Beck working for Tony Stark and being fired and then argues how Peter Parker is an intern of Stark Industries and Quentin Beck only used Peter as a last-ditch attempt to hurt the late Tony Stark, by accusing an intern who happened to be in the same areas of Spider-Man sightings.

The evidence and arguments are so meticulously complied, that everyone sees it as concrete proof and the name of Peter Parker fades back into obscurity. Peter is relieved to have his regular double life back, and everything goes back to normal.

The blog, of course, belongs to fucking Flash Thompson who absolutely REFUSES to believe Peter could be his idol, so in his denial, he went apeshit trying to prove it wrong and documented all of his findings on his blog. However, he’s never able to fully convince himself that Peter isn’t Spider-Man, and continues to creep on Peter 24/7 trying to figure out the truth. 

Take a break.

|| summary: in which tom helps the reader to destress from her hectic school work.

|| author’s note: smut & filth, y’all already know my brand loooool + sorry it’s been soooo long, yikes.

warnings: this au features aggressive, but totally consensual nsfw content… read at your own discretion, please.

Strained red eyes and tight back muscles begged for any form of alleviation, but the intermittent shifting of positions was providing you with enough comfort to keep the driving pain at bay. Still, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to remain focused on your school work; primarily so, when Tom walked through the bedroom door in nothing but low-hanging sweats. The smug smirk he offered was a pleasant sight, especially when paired with glorious image of his naked chest. It glistened with droplets of water, shimmering and reflecting off the sun rays spilling in from the open balcony door — silently thanking yourself for opting on natural light.

“Still at it, huh?” He gives you a pitiful half-smile, running a free hand through his damp curls.

You nod, forcing your gaze away from his muscular torso and back to literary works of Charles Dickens — eyes trained to the pages of Bleak House,with your attention anywhere but.

Spotting him moving in your peripheral, half of his blurred figure peaking out over the bridge of your book, the bed soon dips as he sits opposite you. Fresh from shower his smell is intoxicating, and nearly impossible to resist. Nearly. Tenacity for finishing your assignments, outweighing the desire scratching between your legs.

Without a word, he leans forward, curious wet lips brushing the exposed skin of your shoulder, trailing open mouthed kisses up to the curve where bone met soft tissue. As each warm, gentle touch teased its way up your neck, the focus that was on the words below you faltered, eyelids growing heavy as your tense state melted into the familiarity of his mouth.

“I think,” he suggested between kisses, his words muffled into the crook of your neck, “you need to relax.” The rasp of his voice beguiled the lust sprouting in your core, your better judgement rapidly losing traction against the hot breathe now fanning over your ear. “‘Bout time, innit love?”

With your eyes closed, tongue caught between your teeth, you were nearly there — but the rational part of you was not silenced yet, and it was aggressively gnawing away your lust-fogged inability for discernment. “I can’t.”

Sighing reluctantly, you attempted to shrug him off, nudging him slightly with your shoulders. A dissatisfied groan leaves him, passing past his lips and onto the spot he’d just been nipping at, below your ear. “Seriously?” He questions, half serious.

Turning to face him, you nod furiously, your eyes flicking between his tousled curls and the paper work spread across your lap — both in dissary. “I can’t just stop working, I’m really close to finishing this paper, and if I stop now I don’t know if I’ll have the energy to start back up again and—“

“—okay, you need to shut up.” The rest of your incessant rambling is stopped, abruptly cut off by the palm of Tom’s hand which has forcefully clamped down over your mouth — your sentence falling into his skin, becoming muffled and incoherent. Keeping your head positioned so your eyes are on him, he cups the back of your neck with his free hand to hold you in place. “Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he starts, eyes of brown swirls boring into yours with unwavering intensity, “you’re gonna stop working, and take a break.”

Leaning his weight into you, he forces you onto your back, your head hitting the pillows with a light thud. The softness of the mattress envelops you under his force, your sore muscles screaming with relief. “You’re not gonna think about your work,” The hand on the back of your neck falls to your lap, grabbing your spread of papers and tossing them to the floor in one swift motion.

“Hey—” You grumble a faint protest into his hand, interrupted by the exclamation of his fingers’ grip.

“—I said shut up,” his jaw is tight, eyes narrowed in agitation, “didn’t I?” With the absence of papers clustered on your thighs, he nudges his way between your legs, spreading them effortlessly with his hips. Noting the feeling of his bulge against you, you nod timidly, your breathing gradually pacing out. “You’re just gonna close your eyes,” he picks up from where he left off earlier, “and feel me. My touch.”

Taking the acute shifting of your hips towards his as an answer, he brings his fingers up to his lips, pulling the index and middle into his mouth. You watch as he lubircates them with gentle sucking and flicks of his tongue, the sight causing your insides to clench in anticipation. “Just let me do all the work, pretty girl. Close your eyes and spread ‘em wider for me, yeah?”

As his fingers trailed down your torso, you obliged, spreading your legs as wide as they’d go, and shutting your eyes. Propping himself onto one forearm, he lifts his hips away from yours, providing enough space for his arm to fit between your bodies — his fingers dipping into the lace waistband of your panties. The warm, wet touch of his digits against your slick folds caused your back to arch, pressing your clothed body into his bare chest.

“Jesus,” the word drags out, past his shallow gasp, “this all for me?” Before he’d even touched you, a dampness had grown between your legs at the sight of him, his fingers now running along its evident effect. Pursing your lips against his palm, you nodded, allowing a faint whimper to escape you as his middle finger now dragged lazy circles over your clit. With his forearm pressed against your stomach, the constant flex and relaxation of its muscles, and his two fingers now dipping inside you — it wouldn’t be long.

The length and slenderness of his digits, allowed them to make quick and effortless contact with your g-spot, as they bottomed out before curling. Lips parted and wet against his palm, you allowed a spew of moans to pour into the skin of his hand, nearly thankful that it provided you with a comfortable barrier to cry freely into. “‘Like that, sweet girl?” Tom’s lips brushed along your ear, teeth grazing your lobe, “you like it when my fingers are deep inside your pretty pussy, don’t you?”

Only being able to respond with muffled noises falling from your mouth, he took the gentle bite to his palm as a gesture of agreement. His apparent smirk curved against your jaw before he took the lobe of your ear into his mouth, sucking softly on the smooth skin. As his fingers continued to run themselves along your walls, pumping into you at a deliciously slow pace, he brought his thumb to your clit — the two sensations, added with bites and kisses he placed along your neck, created a heady combination, that brought you to the edge quicker than expected.

“Gonna come for me, yeah?” He didn’t need a response, already recognizing the telltale groans beneath his palm and the contracting of muscles around his fingers. Your wetness had become audible, as he quickened his pace, flicking his wrist aggressively. Thighs clenching around his hand, hips bucking to meet his fingers, and head pressed forcefully against the pillows; you were in euphoria. As his thumb added pressure to your clit, precisely timing it with his two other fingers motions, you were crashing over the edge.

“That’s it, love,” he groaned into your ear, “come all over my fingers.” His hand tightened over your mouth as you met your release, a string of profanities and his name falling into it.

Blinking your eyes open, you exhaled through your nose forcefully, struggling to catch your breathe without using your mouth. Met with adoring, but hungry eyes and a lazy smirk, you couldn’t help smile under his hand. Pumping his fingers a few more times before removing them, he brought them to his lips, pulling them into his mouth as he had before; closing his eyes briefly as they were sucked clean. “You never disappoint,” he hummed appreciatively, removing his hand from over your mouth, “do you, pretty girl?”

Blushing, you smile at him coyly, reaching up to push his curls off his forehead, “could say the same about you, Tommy.” He was radiating smug, boyish confidence as he leaned down to kiss your waiting lips - tender from their restraint against his palm. The kiss was slow and sweet, his tongue dipping into your mouth, stained in your flavor mixed with his own. Pulling back to run the bridge of his nose along yours, he sighed contentedly.

“Guess I should let you get back to it.”

You shook your head, a hand cupping the back of his neck; after having had a taste you craved more. Tilting his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “but I thought said that you needed to finish your paper today, otherwise your professor would only give you half—“

“—okay you need to shut up.” You interjected, echoing his assertion from before as your hand came up to cover his mouth. Surprised, you felt his grin against your palm, and although you feigned a cool resolve, your eyes were alight with humor. Using your body weight, you pushed him onto his back beside you, hand remaining over his mouth as you moved to straddle his parted legs.

“Now, here’s what’s gonna happen.”

The next trilogy with Tom Holland’s Spiderman should be happening and im calling it now, Ned will die in that trilogy. Sometime before he dies he will remember everything from no way home and before.

I have more theories on Ned, I’ll save for a later post.

Zodiac Series

You/Peter 

• you didn’t believe in love at first sight, of course until you met Peter Parker
• Everything about being with Peter felt so intense, so when you fell in love, you fell hard
• being with him is so exhilarating, everything about him lights you up from the inside out
• from his electrifying touch to the fire you feel each time he simply says Y/N
• you were drawn to him, and how he captured the attention of all of Queens, but he was only enamored with you
• he may be an avenger, but he’s the one that keeps you grounded and steady
• because sometimes you can get your head stuck in the clouds, with plans often bigger than your bank account
• but he reminds you of the beauty in your reality
• ‘peter, can I take off the blindfold yet’
  
• ‘just a few more steps’
  
• ‘okay we’re here’
  
• as you take off your blindfold, you find yourself in the middle of a park at 11 PM. In front of you, a lofty weeping willow lit up in fairy lights with a picnic basket and a stack of blankets to meet you at the base
• ‘I’m so confused’
• laughing, he brings you closer to sit you down at the trunk, under all the lights, ‘well you’ve always talked about stargazing in the Atacama desert in Chile. I thought for your birthday, I’d bring the stars to you’
• one of Peter’s best qualities is his heart. His love doesn’t stop at just his friends and family, but it includes his city
• as Peter suits up, getting ready to swing out of your room, he catches your gaze from across the room in the reflection of the window
• ‘why do you do that’
  
• ‘do what’
  
• ‘you know,’ he says rosy-cheeked as he turns back to face you, ‘this whole staring thing’
• laughing, you close the gap between you two and wrap your arms around his shoulders, ‘what staring thing’
• ‘like I have the whole world in my hands’
  
• ‘maybe it’s because you do, and I couldn’t be prouder. You’re going out there everyday, rain, snow, or shine, protecting a city that doesn’t care to remember your name. You, Peter, are willing to come home broken and battered for strangers,’ you say in awe, tucking a tuft of hair behind his ear as he grows redder than his suit, ‘so yeah I like to stare, take in all that is you with some hope that just a fraction of your goodness rubs off’
  
• you both are a little too impulsive for your own good, getting you and Peter stuck in some tricky, and completely avoidable, situations 
• but your adventures together, no matter how dumb or reckless, bring the best memories that you couldn’t trade for the world

Requested by a few people but like two years ago when I first started this series so I won’t bother to tag them lmao

A/N: this is my first (writing) post in two years and idk man it’s weird to be back, 

Someone: *hurts Peter in any way*

Tony, from heaven:

Spider-Man: Far From Home

In conclusion:

Chaotic

tom holland - lockscreens

like/reblog if you save/use or ©: spiderszman (twitter)

Happy birthday to this absolutely gem. He deserves all the goodness in the world ❤️

Harrison James Osterfield ❤️

~4-7-96~

I think all of this is disgusting which is why we need to make as many people as possible aware of this. This is not only happening with Tom but so many other celebrities. As fans we all know Tom would never do anything like that. He’s one of the sweetest guys out there. Please share this so we can all support Tom ❤️❤️

Video credit to @.tomholland_2013 on tiktok

Tomholland2013 just made a post.

Me:

3000 Followers!!!!!

Omg that’s so crazy. Thank you so much. I don’t really know what to say apart from thank you and I appreciate you all so much. I never thought people would really see what I posted because I thought no one would care but this is so crazy.

I’ve been thinking of maybe doing some other stuff on my page but idk. If anyone has any suggestions let me know. I’ve considered maybe writing if that’s something people would like. I would carry on what I’m doing as well. I just want to appeal to everyone.

Sorry this may be a bit cringe but I’m honestly speechless. Thank you guys so muchhh

Love you all xxx

When your friends are about to tell a story you lied to your parents about:

madmadmilk:

ok i didn’t actually see how badly tom was being treated over this until right now and…… all i gotta say is fuck you guys. 

in a time where we are meant to rise up, and uplift Black Lives, to put ourselves aside and amplify their message,,,…. people are taking this moment to bully, guilt, and agitate celebrities? what?? celebrities that they supposedly love and follow? what?? i don’t–– i don’t understand?

i truly don’t know what to say to those individuals….

your hatred and immaturity have been displayed for everyone to see and condemn. you’ve let the ‘excitement’ take over, and lost your priority. you let fantasy take over reality–– stupidly.

your forced ‘charity’ through prodding hate is, frankly, ugly and disgusting. 

celebrities are not gods or pillars of humanity…… of course their money and influence help–– but who fucking CARES what they do, publicly or privately. they are normal fucking people, and if they chose to delay or be silent–– that’s their own issue. not ours. sorry if your fave has disappointed you with silence, doesn’t mean they deserve to be bullied on their birthday of all days………….. people ARE disappointing, but WHY would you focus on that RIGHT FUCKING NOW……….. i’ve seen this “fandom” repeatedly and recklessly probe into his private life, with no concern over what they destroy to get there. ya’ll are so fucking stupid.

signal boost things are actually relevant instead of @-ing a boy who’s never gonna write you back

fuck you guys honestly

I couldn’t have put it better myself. The amount of hate Tom and so many other celebrities are getting at the moment for this reason is ridiculous.

Tom has posted about it. He’s shown us that he understands what’s going on in the world right now. Showing any support at all is better than showing none. Anything someone does for the BLM movement to show support is a good thing.

With everything going on in the world right now, people should be being kind to each other and helping each other. There is enough hate in the world as there is, there’s no reason to add more especially when Tom is at least doing something to support the movement.

When you’re just chilling in your room and notice a spider crawling on your wall: