The next week Peter went through the regular motions of regular Peter Parker life, such as listening to humiliation asmr on the subway. Cause that was totally Normal Tuesday stuff.

But the week didn't start off like that, of course.

It was kicked off only a couple days after his second Camtoy stream and exactly one day after Wade announced he was, officially yet temporarily, a fulltime New York resident.

Peter had stopped at home to eat midnight dinner after swinging through his regular route, and was trying to make up his mind while waiting for his easy mac to cook. It was the middle of the week and he had an early class tomorrow. The question was whether he was too tired to do a second patrol...

He decided to stay in.

It was almost one A.M. by the time he finished his meal, fell into bed and started a new save file on his phone. And really, honestly, he should've been sleeping, but it always felt like such a struggle by the end of the day. His brain just couldn't let him relax, spiraling unless otherwise occupied. Naps during the daytime, by comparison, were so much easier. But life happened during the daytime. Therefore, Peter did what he normally did: kept his mind focused until he straight up fainted from exhaustion…

Are spiders nocturnal? Probably, but that seriously couldn't be it… Could it?

Instead of stressing about his impending midterms, he was going to play a game where he got to be a cute little farmer living in an idyllic town. Instead of letting himself worry about up-and-coming villains and the photos he had to edit for Jameson, he was going to fall into another world and pretend his biggest enemies were the two C's: crabs and capitalism.

Yes it's escapism, and yes it's avoidance. But Peter never claimed to have good coping mechanisms. Quite the opposite, really.

Peter begins this playthrough like he's done all his past, half finished playthroughs: by skipping the opening cutscene, planting his parsnips and doing the introductory quests. As he finally found the last villager he needed to talk to, Peter could practically feel the apprehension heavy in his gut. Haley is one of the townspeople he avoided - thus why he'd been putting off greeting her the longest. Everything about her was entirely too similar to the popular kids of his highschool days. Unfortunately for him, though, to get to the next quest and collect 100 friendship points he had to talk to her.

Every time he forgets how mean she is.

And - if it wasn't for the fact that Haley's character went through a lot of character growth - he'd wonder why someone would choose her as their love interest.

Or why someone would ask to be yelled at by a cam star.

And maybe that's why, as Peter let his droopy eyes fall closed, he decided that it was definitely something he had to investigate.

There were a lot of resources that helped Peter as he stepped into the world of BDSM. It was something unexpected and eye-opening, and Peter could sheepishly admit that he had believed a lot of misconceptions about the topic; he was metaphorically wet behind the ears in regards to practically everything. All of his previous knowledge had been through porn, and that's… clearly not the best place to learn about safe or realistic sex.

And as for real life, well… There was rarely any time to gain real life experience. In-between being New York's Favorite Punching Bag (besides Daredevil), learning how to do adult things (Step One: avoid your landlord) and scheduled crying breaks (it's called time management. Peter's a master at it), Peter had been trying to build up to those experiences.

Peter might be considered a bit of a romantic in that way, believe it or not. It was casual and comfortable to jerk off alone at two in the morning, but a whole other story to be with someone else. He wanted it to be meaningful.

Gwen was the first person he'd ever truly fallen in love with. They took it slow. They tried to make it meaningful, because they expected to spend the rest of their lives together. But they never got the chance, because life just doesn't pan out that way for guys like Peter.

After Gwen it was just easier to keep a busy schedule. It was easier to keep the space between his ears packed full of things to study or pictures to take so he wouldn't have the energy to mourn and consider the 'what if's.' It was easier to be in a constant swing between one responsibility and the next, rather than have the time to form connections with people. Because you can't hurt anyone or put a target on their back if you don't know them in the first place.

So by his age, other people might've felt like they'd fallen behind in romantic or sexual encounters. Peter, rather than feeling like an outcast for not hitting an 'important' and 'normal' life milestone, was learning how to handle hostage situations and figuring out the hard way that hot water doesn't remove blood stains.

So yeah, there were a lot of things to learn.

He took to doing research in between classes and on his commute.

Fortunately for Peter, and his bank account, free resources were easy to come by. Videos, online forums and even whole websites dedicated to the education of adults wanting to experience exciting and safe sex. There were a lot of things he could and should do to make sure his viewers understood what they were watching. And, like the nerd he was, he dutifully took notes and started making plans. Hopefully, if he did it right, everyone would have a fulfilling and enjoyable time.

Researching humiliation and degradation was a different story. Though not because of a lack of means…

Aunt May raised him to be a polite boy. Yes Ma'am's and Yes Sir's, holding the door open for strangers and trying to treat everyone with kindness (even if they didn't deserve it sometimes). As a result he grew into a respectful young man who was more likely to turn his cheek and take a verbal lashing, than to defend himself and return harsh words. The art of talking down to others wasn't something he'd ever been very well versed in. Which honestly? It'd never felt like a bad thing to have a hard time hurting others. Still didn't really feel like a bad thing. Even after hearing why people enjoyed degrading or being degraded Peter didn't feel any more confident in his ability to play the part he'd (unintentionally) chosen for himself.

Thus the ASMR.

ASMR was something he's delved into a couple times. But never in a million years had he experienced it like this. Heard of it? Sure. Experienced it? No. Most of his exposure was to silent hands crushing multicolored chalk or cutting up perfectly good soap, and decidedly not ones where people are talking, chewing or making any sort of wet noises. Because wet noises gave him the ick.

Usually he listens to it when New York's constant scream of sirens or honking cars make it too hard for him to focus. And even with that, he only listens to it in the privacy of his home or the isolated back corner of NYU's library.

So it was weird and awkward to listen to degradation ASMR while on the subway. And, despite not exactly being sexual in nature, something about the whole scenario made him feel like some sort of pervert. He must've looked that way, too, given the glare he received from a severe looking business woman. Paranoid eyes on his flushed face, darting around as if scared someone would notice. Tense, closed off posture with one shaky hand taking notes while the other carefully shielded his screen from view.

Oh, and to reiterate, all of this was on public transport.

And surely this wasn't the strangest or grossest thing any New Yorker had seen this week, in fact, just a few days ago Peter had seen a mall Santa do some pretty un-Santa-like things to a jar of peanut butter…

Doesn't mean he wanted to be the weirdo who did suspicious stuff on his commute, either.

Unfortunately he didn't have much of a choice, his schedule didn't exactly give him time for extracurriculars. Any free moments had to be stolen between his endless and self-imposed projects or obligations.

The subway slowed to a stop.

Peter didn't pay it any mind, focused on jotting down observations from the video. The ASMR-tist was pretty with a deceptively sweet voice. What she said, however, was in stark contrast, and he made notes on everything he could. What she said, how she said it, her body language, etc.

He didn't even notice someone had taken the seat next to him.

"Damn." Peter jumped, almost dropping his phone. "You're sweating like a sinner in church."

Slowly, hesitantly, he turned to see the owner of the familiar voice and, surprise surprise, it was Wade freaking Wilson. He was in plain clothes, wearing a combo of both a hoodie and a cap to hide his face.

"How does that even work? It's, like, in the negatives out there," Wade asked, then held up a scarred finger. Peter hadn't even opened his mouth. "No, you're right. He doesn't look like someone who'd watch porn in public."

Peter stared at him wide-eyed, unable to form words. Surely the universe hated him because who else would be subjected to a meet-cute like this? A meet cute where the crush catches them with their metaphorical dick out. The merc held the eye-contact for a moment, his eyes twinkling with something that might've been amusement - or sadness - then ducked his head.

"I think we're scaring him," Wade mused under his breath, and Peter took the moment of distraction to tuck away his phone and notebook. A couple seconds passed in awkward silence

"Not porn," Peter finally replied, feeling less stressed now that the quote-unquote 'evidence' was hidden. "And… You weren't scaring me."

Wade glanced back at him, a slight smile on his face. "Why were you staring at me like I kicked your dog, then?" Wade asked, then blinked. "Fuck! I killed someone you know, didn't I?" And before Peter could respond in the negative, Wade was digging through his pockets. "They probably deserved it, so I'm not going to apologize, but lately I've been trying to make it up to the loved ones of baddies. It's not like most of them knew they were bad company - Aha!"

With a pleased grin, Wade pulled his hands from his pockets. A metal business card, laser-cut with the Deadpool symbol, was held out to Peter. "Let me know if you need help with something. Hits are off the table, obviously, since I'm not really in the mercenary biz anymore. For most other things? I'm your guy! You can call me the Friendly Neighborhood Merc With a Mouth."

Peter smiled, but didn't take the card. "It wasn't - I'm not… You just surprised me, that's all." Peter said, and Wade's hand dropped. "And I kinda recognized you? I'm a photographer who specializes in superhero portraits. You're Deadpool, right? Or, I guess right now you're Wade Wilson. But, it's not often that I get to see a hero up close and personal, and even less often that I have an actual conversation with one."

Wade's blue eyes were locked on him again, and Peter had the pleasure of watching a goofy smile dance across his lips. The rest of his face lit up in kind, and the tension drained from his shoulders. "I'm not sure who gave you the idea that I was a hero, but I'm honored either way."

Peter's eyebrow ticked up, "Not a hero?" Peter questioned. "You just offered your services to me, for free, because you thought I'd inadvertently been hurt when you took a criminal off the streets."

Wade shrugged, looking a bit confused, and the subway began to slow again. Peter stared at him a bit longer, before sighing and getting up. "This is my stop," he said as he grabbed his bag. "You don't have to believe it, Wade, but I know you're a good man."

As Peter turned to leave the hairs on his neck raised, and milliseconds later Wade grabbed his wrist.

"Wait," Wade stopped him, voice sounding like pure humor and curiosity. "What were you watching?"

"Oh?" Peter glanced back at Wade, who was waiting with such an earnest expression that Peter couldn't help but fuck with him. He gave the older man an innocent smile. "I lied. It was tentacle porn."

And then he pulled away, mixing with the crush of people all trying to leave or board the train.

"He was - That was real?" Came the stunned response of Wade Wilson. By the time he snapped out of it, Peter had already ducked behind a pillar in the subway station, where he was desperately trying not to laugh while getting concerned stares from curious onlookers.

Peter found the metal business card when he emptied out his pockets that night.

He worked really hard to make the theme of his next stream as clear and concise as possible. From the Camtoy homepage the words Humiliation/Degradation Kink could be seen, spanning across the bottom of the video feed. Behind him, plastered to the wall, was a bullet point list of things he'd be bringing up. He felt a bit antsy, like he shouldn't just be sitting and talking. Like he should be standing and moving.

Understandably it took a while for anyone to hop in, and the first few were guest profiles. He didn't mind though. He couldn't exactly talk with them, but he could talk at them. And if there was something Peter was good at it was talking. Only one person left as he gave a brief explanation about how the stream would go, but he didn't let it get to him. This wasn't going to work for everyone, and clearly he hadn't fucked up so badly if there were still people in chat waiting.

"I think I should be good if I wrap up the pre-show," Peter said, by this point he was hovering at around twenty-five constant viewers. "However before that, and I'm sorry if this is getting annoying, I just want to reiterate that if you feel uncomfortable at any point in this stream, you can and should leave. My feelings won't be hurt and I won't be mad."

mm-dd-10-20: I can handle it.
mm-dd-10-20: Give me your worst, Spider-Man.
bb-cakes: you're too nice for this istg

Peter laughed softly, for some reason feeling giddy, and flipped open his notebook. "We'll see about that."

em-ekohc: But isnt asmr lik quiet or something?

"Yeah?" Peter tilted his head, not sure where the commenter was going with this.

em-ekohc: I mean, no offense but ur using your computer's mic, right?
em-ekohc: The quality isnt the best and m not sure if the sound will come through if ur really quiet, specially since ur mask muffles ur voice a lot

Right. That was one of the reasons why he used voice modulators in his suits. It ensured that civilians could understand him clearly.

"That's a good point," Peter nodded. "I have some earbuds I could use for better sound quality, though I'm not sure if it'll help with the distortion."

bb-cakes: wireless?

"Unfortunately."

em-ekohc: U could always just take off your mask, not lik ur actually spiderman
em-ekohc: I mean, if you want to

"Well," Peter sighed "I know I said it's for roleplay, but keeping my life private is still pretty important to me."

mm-dd-10-20: Secret identities are very important.
guest24804 entered the chat
bb-cakes: you could use something else though
bb-cakes: like one of the masks muggers use
bb-cakes: might be funny

Peter muffled a laugh with a hand to his mouth and an easy grin, "Can you imagine? Spider-Man running around wearing a ski mask, Triple J would have a good time putting that to print."

Then he paused to look around his apartment. He could use a tie or a beanie, to cover his eyes maybe? But he wasn't blind like Daredevil, and why would anyone stream blindfolded? It just wasn't possible… Peter blinked as he realized, oh yeah, it was definitely possible. And probably pretty popular too. It just wouldn't work for this stream.

His eyes landed on his headboard, where some books and trinkets were scattered. His eyes fell onto the figurine that Wade gifted him.

"Um... I think I have an idea. Give me a second."

Peter slid off his chair and out of frame.

He opened his drawers and picked through his underwear. Where was it?

Bright red accented by navy blue caught his eye. There.

Snatching off his Spider-Man mask, Peter popped in his earbuds and pulled the lace snugly against his face. Behind his head he tied the ribbon into a lopsided bow

A quick glance at the mirror showed someone Peter didn't quite recognize. It was perfect.

"How does it look?" Peter asked as he hopped back onto his chair, "Is the sound quality better?"

mm-dd-10-20: I'm sure it's fine.
mm-dd-10-20: Sound quality is much better though.
Em-ekohc: A lot better!
bb-cakes: wow ur super cute

It was harder than it should've been to get to the level of intensity he wanted for the private show - and yes, it would be a private show. He didn't have to take it slow, he could've jumped in right away like the first stream, but didn't feel like he was doing it right if it wasn't a slow build. It had the added bonus of giving people more time to duck out if they didn't feel safe, too. Plenty of people had already.

Once the stream had actually begun, Peter started with some light teasing. The words, at that point, were still fairly honeyed with a layer of amusement and satisfaction layered underneath. Slowly, carefully, it melted into something a bit harsher. There was a surprising thrill to it. Uncomfortable at first, but it got much more enjoyable as he remembered these people were desperate to hear it.

"You can't help it though, can you? Can't get enough of it. I start saying some mean little words and you turn into a dumb slut." Peter rasped into the earbud. He was holding it up to his mouth, like a tiny microphone. "I bet you're acting like a dog in heat, too."

Em-ekohc: I can be ur dog
Em-ekohc: Please let me be ur dog
Em-ekohc donated $20

Peter hummed consideringly, then tipped his head to the side. "Well, if you really wanted to be my dog you'd be on the ground begging. It's not such a big stretch now, is it? You already belonged there. Are you on the ground, mutt?"

There was a moment in chat where no one responded, and Peter raised an eyebrow.

mm-dd-10-20: I'm on the ground.
em-ekohc: woof

"Start begging then."

Weeks of camming blended into months, but Peter barely noticed the time passing.

Being a cam boy became easier. Like most things in his life, once he got used to it he was infinitely more comfortable. And after the successes of his first three streams, he'd realized that this was something he could easily imagine himself doing - not only months - but years into the future.

Not to mention how fun his streams could be. There weren't really any restrictions to what he could do while streaming - well, any restrictions he would actually want to violate. So he could do anything from size shaming his viewers to chilling out and playing video games.

Paying rent and paying for food also became easier after those first three livestreams.

Apparently when people liked you enough they would pop into every stream they could, and Peter was incredibly flattered when he started noticing the same names showing up over and over again. At first there were only a few regulars, but eventually every stream was full of familiar users. Some of them were vocal, actively asking him about his day, how school was going, etc. Others lurked, or made comments only when they wanted to request something. They didn't mind too much that he never took off his pants, and only occasionally swapped out his Spider-Man mask for the lacy one. What they really loved were the occasional streams where he opted to go shirtless. And the flood of donations he got whenever that happened made it abundantly clear.

And two months after Peter's first stream, he finally felt safe to break his lease.

The resulting fight with his landlord was anything but fun, as the building manager was (obviously) not pleased with the turn of events. As a penalty fee, he demanded three months rent, and Peter was completely ready to just lay down and take it.

He just wanted it to be over with.

Miraculously though, and seemingly from out of nowhere, a lawyer stepped in. He claimed to have helped some previous tenants who had, undoubtedly, received poor treatment from the same apartment manager.

So that's why Peter was able to put a little more money into his newer, nicer apartment. It was in a better part of the city, which was an advantage on its own, but it'd also been closer to Manhattan, which was good because that meant he was also closer to May - whom he should really visit more often - and to school.

And his landlady, despite her stern exterior, was actually pretty nice.

It made him take a different patrol route that night, however, and that's probably why Deadpool took a while to find him.

"Spidey! This isn't one of your regular haunts!" Wade finally crawled over the edge of the building. "I had to follow the trail of gawking tourists you always leave behind. And your leftover webs."

"I knew you would find me," Peter replied with a grin, and teasingly waved the bag of fried chicken in front of Wade.

"Flame sauce?"

"I double checked." Peter rolled his eyes and gestured to their sodas on the ledge. Drinks were a new addition to their team ups. "Your disgusting spicy sauce is in there."

"It's not disgusting. How could anything named after a flamethrower be disgusting?" Wade muttered and grabbed his box. He still made sure to peek inside, which made Peter roll his eyes.

"It's literally just tabasco mayo," Peter said and pulled off his gloves, plopping down next to the older hero. "Sorry for making you run all around, though. I got the keys for my new apartment today."

"Have you moved in yet?" Wade asked and took a sip of Fanta. Peter shook his head. "You're in Sunnyside, right?"

Peter choked on his bite. "You… You know that already?" He coughed into a greasy napkin. "Am I that obvious?"

"No. I'm just that good," Wade smirked and he gave Peter some firm pats on the back. "I'm free practically whenever, if you need help carrying stuff. Though you won't actually need it, cause you're, y'know, stronger than the Hulk. But I'll always be there if you want me, baby boy."

Peter paused to think it over, but Wade interpreted his moment of indecision as something else, and rushed to explain himself: "This isn't a scheme to try to learn your identity, if that's what you're worried about." Wade's hands lifted in a placating manner. "I know keeping it a secret is really important to you, and I'd never violate Super-Bro Code like that. I won't even intimidate your landperson into giving me the spare key, promise!"

Peter waited for Wade to finish his ramble before responding.

"It's not that. I know you'd never violate my privacy. Not intentionally, at least," Peter paused, "but honestly? There's not even that much to move. I don't really have a lot of stuff..."

"Maybe we could make a day out of it. I can bring over my Switch and we can play Mario Kart until you realize: 'Crap! Deadpool's so much better at this than me,' and then we'll have to switch to playing Smash Bros because I absolutely suck at that and you're a sore loser," Wade said, in a single breath. "Then we can order pizza."

"I'm not a sore loser," Peter responded automatically, but his brain was elsewhere. He really wanted to do it. Hanging out with Wade without the responsibilities of Spider-Man would be nice. Despite all their years of friendship, they'd never made actual plans to spend time together - or at least not outside of patrols. Most of it just happened when Peter got too injured to keep swinging and Wade forced him on bedrest. Or couch-rest.

It still couldn't work though. Because even though Wade would never try to sus out his identity, it didn't mean that any well-meaning neighbor wouldn't see him in the suit, carrying moving box after moving box, and post online that 'Spider-Man just moved into their building.' After that, it wouldn't be hard for any villain worth their salt to figure out who Peter was.

"I… I'm sorry Wade, but I'm not sure that's the best idea."

Wade nodded, but the hero could tell his bummed body language after so many years of friendship. His head was bowed and his shoulders were bunching in, tight with insecurity and a newfound tension. His fingers were playing with the flaps of his take-out box. If Peter had a clear view of Wade's face he probably would've seen a frown marring his lips.

"I'll take a rain check, though?" Peter ventured, "I really do want to spend time with you, it's just - well if we're in full gear it'll be pretty hard to keep my home a secret. But maybe we can do a sleepover - or something." Wade straightened up, turning to shoot a grin at Peter. "I'll provide the food, since you're bringing the entertainment. And after I destroy you in both Mario Kart and Smash Bros, I'll let you help me put together my new bed."

"You'll let me help you?" Wade's mouth quirked up. "What? Are you worried I'll do something gross to it?"

"Is that really something you have to ask?" Peter responded and started to gather up their trash. Food breaks never lasted long when it was the two of them eating.

Wade thought it over with the slightest hint of a smirk on his face. "Yeah," he eventually conceded, "that's a rational fear."

The two of them got up together, tossing napkins and their empty cups into their boxes. Just as they were about to jump into patrol, Wade stopped Peter with a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey Webs?"

Peter glanced back.

"Thank you for trusting me."