𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

Honeymoon Phase

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → Making out, hickeys, suggestive content, teasing, public affection, mild embarrassment.

Summary →You and Peter Parker are in the honeymoon phase, constantly sneaking kisses and leaving hickeys, much to your friends’ annoyance.

          ｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆  ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

The first time it happened, it was an accident.

Well, sort of.

Peter had kissed you—hard—after school, hidden behind the bleachers where no one could see, his hands gripping your waist, your fingers tangled in his curls. One kiss turned into another, and before you knew it, he was pressing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, and you had let out the tiniest, most breathless sigh. It must’ve done something to him, because his lips lingered longer, sucking lightly, and when he finally pulled away, he looked way too proud of himself.

“Oops.” He grinned, brushing a thumb over the fresh mark on your neck.

Your stomach flipped. “Peter.”

“Yeah?”

“I have gym tomorrow.”

He blinked. Then his face broke into a sheepish smile. “Oh.”

From that moment on, it became a game—a ridiculously addicting one.

You’d catch him in between classes and sneak into the back of the library, letting him tug your sweater down just enough to mouth at your shoulder. He’d find you after school, trap you against your locker and tilt your chin up with his fingers, leaving lazy kisses down the side of your throat until you were breathless and giggling, shoving him away before someone caught you.

It didn’t take long for your friends to notice.

“You two are actually disgusting,” MJ deadpanned, staring pointedly at the mark just above Peter’s collar.

You snorted, stirring the straw in your smoothie. “Oh, please.”

“No, seriously,” Ned chimed in. “At least try to act like you weren’t just making out in the janitor’s closet.”

Peter coughed, choking on his fries. “W-We weren’t!”

Betty arched an eyebrow. “Then why do you look like you just got caught committing a crime?”

MJ smirked. “More like why is Y/N wearing a turtleneck in this heat?”

Your face burned.

Peter squirmed beside you, rubbing at the faint bruise just under his jaw that he failed to cover. You tried to hide your laughter, nudging him playfully under the table.

“We’re just—y’know. Happy.” You shrugged, trying to sound casual.

“That’s not happiness,” MJ said. “That’s the honeymoon phase.”

“Oh, let them have their fun,” Betty said, waving her hand. “As long as they don’t get caught by a teacher.”

Ned groaned. “Ugh. Imagine getting detention for making out. How embarrassing.”

Peter cleared his throat, ears burning. “Okay, okay. We get it.”

“Do you, though?” MJ quipped. “Because you’re literally still holding her hand under the table.”

You both looked down. Sure enough, Peter’s fingers were intertwined with yours, thumbs lazily tracing each other. You smiled. “What? We like each other.”

“That’s an understatement,” Ned muttered.

MJ sighed, shaking her head. “Just… try not to traumatize us, yeah?”

You and Peter exchanged glances, fighting back smirks.

No promises.

---

The next week, things didn’t slow down. If anything, they escalated.

It started when Peter showed up late to lunch, looking oddly flushed, his curls an absolute mess.

“Where were you?” Betty asked, narrowing her eyes.

Peter paused mid-bite of his sandwich. “Uh—“

You slid into the seat next to him, pressing your knee against his, lips still tingling from the make-out session you’d just finished behind the school building. “Science lab,” you answered smoothly.

MJ squinted. “Liar.”

Ned snorted. “You two are out of control.”

You shrugged. “What can I say? He’s very kissable.”

Peter choked, coughing violently into his drink.

MJ groaned. “I hate you both.”

But the truth was, you didn’t care. Not when Peter was looking at you like that—soft and adoring, eyes flickering to your lips like he was already thinking about where he could kiss you next.

---

Later that afternoon, Peter caught you by the lockers, pulling you into an empty classroom before you could protest.

“Pete—“

“Shh.” He grinned, backing you against the desk. “Just one.”

“One what?”

“A kiss.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just one?”

“Promise.”

You huffed, pretending to be exasperated, but the moment his lips met yours, you melted. He tasted like peppermint and something distinctly Peter, and when his hands found your waist, tugging you closer, your fingers slipped into his curls instinctively.

He pulled away slightly, a teasing smile on his face. “One more?”

You groaned. “You’re insatiable.”

“Only for you.”

By the time you got home, you had three new hickeys and absolutely no regrets.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗