𝒩𝑜 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒
Peter parker x black reader
Plot :After the world forgets Peter Parker, the only person who still remembers him is the girl he's slowly falling in love with
Warnings: Smut and slightly emotional cheating
The city had forgotten Peter Parker with terrifying perfection.
Every database, every yearbook, every text message, every photograph that once proved he had existed as anything more than Spider-Man had become nothing but empty space, as if the universe itself had carefully stitched over the wound his name had left behind.
MJ smiled politely when Spider-Man stopped by.
Ned laughed with him like he was meeting him for the first time.
Happy remembered Aunt May, but the nephew who had stood beside her through years of heartbreak had dissolved into nothing more than an impossible blank spot in his memories.
Peter had prepared himself for that.
He had accepted it.
That was the price.
What he hadn't prepared for...
...was someone whispering his name behind him.
"Peter."
The voice stopped him so suddenly that the grocery bag hanging from his wrist slipped from his fingers, oranges rolling across the cracked sidewalk while pedestrians stepped around them without a second glance.
His breathing caught in his throat before he slowly turned around.
You stood several feet away beneath the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp, dressed in an oversized hoodie with your mask tucked loosely into your jacket pocket, your expression caught somewhere between relief and disbelief.
"You..." Peter breathed, staring as though he had seen a ghost.
Your eyes watered almost instantly.
"There you are."
Those three words hit harder than any punch Peter had ever taken from the Green Goblin.
He stared at you.
"You...remember me?"
You frowned.
"Peter...what kind of question is that?"
His mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
"You remember...Peter Parker?"
"Obviously."
Your confusion slowly twisted into concern as you crossed the street toward him, your footsteps quickening the closer you got.
"I've been looking for you for weeks."
Peter could barely hear you over the roaring in his ears.
"No..."
His voice cracked.
"No...that's impossible."
Your brows furrowed.
"What are you talking about?"
"The spell."
He almost laughed because the words sounded ridiculous out loud.
"The spell erased me."
You blinked.
"...No."
Peter shook his head desperately.
"It erased everyone's memories."
You stared at him silently.
Then something strange happened.
You reached toward his face.
Peter stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, the cold evening breeze tugging at the sleeves of his faded jacket while people streamed around the two of you as if this life-changing moment was nothing more than another Tuesday night in Queens.
His brown eyes searched your face with desperate intensity, looking for even the smallest sign that you were joking, mistaken, or confusing him with someone else.
He found none.
You looked at him exactly the way you always had.
Like he was Peter.
Not Spider-Man.
Not a stranger.
Just...Peter.
"...You really remember me," he whispered again, the words sounding fragile enough to break apart before they even reached you.
You frowned, confused by the tears shining in his eyes.
"I keep saying yes."
Peter laughed weakly, quickly wiping at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie before you could comment on it.
"Sorry."
"You don't have to apologize."
He nodded absentmindedly, still trying to process the impossible reality standing in front of him.
For weeks he had spoken to people who looked directly through Peter Parker as though he'd never existed.
Now someone was looking at him like nothing had changed.
It almost hurt more.
"So..." you said softly, glancing down at the grocery bag he'd nearly dropped. "You gonna leave your groceries in the middle of the street?"
Peter blinked before hurriedly crouching down to collect the runaway oranges that had rolled beneath a nearby bench.
"Oh."
He gave an awkward laugh.
"Right."
You knelt beside him, reaching underneath the bench to retrieve the last orange before handing it to him with a small smile.
"There."
"Thanks."
Your fingers brushed for barely a second.
Peter quickly looked away.
"So..." he cleared his throat. "Where were you headed?"
"My house."
He nodded.
"...Can I walk you home?"
The question came out almost automatically.
Old habit.
Back when the world still made sense, Peter had insisted on walking you home whenever patrol ended late, claiming Queens was safer if two people walked together.
You smiled.
"I'd like that."
The streets were quieter now.
Storefronts reflected warm yellow lights onto the damp pavement while the smell of fresh pizza drifted from the little family-owned restaurant on the corner.
Cars rolled by every few minutes.
Somewhere in the distance, a subway train rumbled beneath the city.
Neither of you spoke for nearly a minute.
Not because it was awkward.
Because neither of you knew where to begin.
Peter shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, stealing nervous glances at you every few seconds before quickly looking away whenever you almost caught him.
"You keep staring," you teased.
His cheeks immediately turned pink.
"I wasn't."
"You literally are."
"I was...thinking."
"You think with your eyes?"
"...Sometimes."
You laughed.
The familiar sound settled something inside Peter's chest that had been painfully tight ever since Doctor Strange's spell.
God...
He had missed hearing someone laugh like that.
"So..." you said, breaking the comfortable silence. "Where have you been hiding?"
Peter hesitated.
"Just...around."
"You disappeared."
"I know."
"I went to your apartment."
His steps slowed.
"You...did?"
"The landlord said someone moved out."
Peter swallowed hard.
"I had to."
"I even checked the coffee shop you liked."
"You remembered that?"
You looked at him like he'd asked whether the sky was blue.
"Peter, I remember everything."
His chest tightened again.
Every memory.
Movie nights.
Studying together.
Inside jokes.
Walking through Central Park in the middle of winter with hot chocolate because neither of you wanted to admit your hands were freezing.
Everything.
The universe had stolen those memories from everyone else.
But somehow...
Not from you.
"You know," you said, nudging his shoulder gently, "you're acting really weird."
Peter laughed under his breath.
"I've been told that before."
"No."
You smiled.
"This is different."
He looked down at the sidewalk.
"...A lot's happened."
The warm glow of the porch light spilled across the front steps, painting soft golden shadows over the quiet neighborhood while crickets chirped somewhere beyond the neatly trimmed hedges.
Peter stood awkwardly at the bottom of your steps, one hand gripping the worn strap of his backpack while the other stayed buried in his jacket pocket, his eyes lingering on your front door as though he already knew he should say goodbye.
Instead, neither of you moved.
"So..." he said with an awkward smile, rocking back on his heels. "I guess I'll—"
"Do you want to come in?"
The words left your mouth before you could overthink them.
Peter blinked.
"What?"
"You've been standing out here for like... five minutes."
A quiet laugh escaped you as you folded your arms across your chest.
"You obviously don't want to leave yet."
His cheeks immediately flushed a bright pink.
"I mean..."
"You don't have to."
"No, I just—"
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking everywhere except at you.
"I don't want to intrude."
"You wouldn't."
"You sure?"
You nodded without hesitation.
"My parents are working late."
Peter looked at the house again.
"I don't really want to be a bother."
"You've never been a bother, Peter."
The sincerity in your voice made his shoulders relax ever so slightly.
"...Okay."
A smile spread across your face.
"Okay."
He should move.
He knew he should.
Instead, he found himself leaning in almost without thinking.
You met him halfway.
Your lips brushed together in a hesitant, feather-light kiss that lasted only a moment before both of you instinctively pulled back, eyes wide with surprise.
Neither of you spoke.
Peter's heart hammered against his ribs.
Then, as quickly as the warmth of the kiss had settled over him...
Another memory surfaced.
MJ.
Standing in the coffee shop.
The cut on her forehead.
His promise to tell her everything.
The moment he looked at the bandage, realized she was smiling without him, and chose to walk away.
Now he cant walk away. Not from her at least.
You clung to peters broad shoulders, legs wrapped securely around his body as he help you with effortless strength.
he thought it wouldn't escalate but the tension between you two had built far to quickly until clothes were scattered and you were on his lap in an instant. your brown skin basking in the sunlight.
He kissed your throat as you head fell back. you felt him bend to lay you against the couch; when he straightened, his arms tightened around you. hands and lips frantic as they fetched up. you arched backward, your hands gripping the couch’s edge, your body curving into peters in a way that made him inhale sharply.
His hands shaped the curves of you, sweeping from your hips to your waist, rising to cup your breasts. you gasped, breathing into the new sensation, wanting his hands on you.
With your nipple in his mouth, his right hand gripping your left buttock, he raised your leg you help lifted a leg to welcome him as he slid into you. For the first moment, he stayed still, while you felt and stared at each other. He started to move slowly, He lay on you, while you wrapped your legs around him. He was amazingly different.
his left thumb caressing your clit as he settled into a thrusting rhythm, your racking orgasm was a pleasant surprise.
As you pulled his hand from your clit because it was too intense, you realised that you both forgot to use a condom. You didn’t say anything just moaning and gripping his hair letting the cum drip deep inside you.
He collapsed on you running traces of patterns on your body before dozing off but you can’t help but think is this your life now?