#might delete later if I overthink and decide things look too messy…

[mrsluttystark]

Repeat After Me Part 2

Part 1 

You guys have no idea how much it meant to me that part 1 was so well received. Thank you from the bottom of my little starker heart! 

Tags: nff, age difference, former teacher/student, mention of daddy kink, mention of choking

Word count: 3.1k

Read below the cut

Peter wakes up five minutes before his alarm, like he always does.  He absolutely hates the shrill screech of it.  His bed creaks and groans as he sits up and swings his legs over the side.  Suddenly, the springs that had previously been holding him up collapse under him, making him yelp in surprise.  Peter made a mental note that maybe it was time for a new bed, he’d been holding on to the rickety twin mattress he had all his childhood since it was the only thing he had left from May’s.

He usually went into the lab on Saturdays, even though he was supposed to be off during the weekend.  It’s not like he has plans or anything, but he guesses he could shift his schedule around a little to go mattress shopping.

His arm darts out like clockwork and taps his screen to turn the alarm off before his phone could utter the first mind melting ring. Peter runs a hand through his hair to brush some stray curls out of his face and stretches before getting out of bed to do his morning routine.

It’s not until Peter sits down at his two-seater dining table with a bowl of captain crunch berries, two pieces of toast, and a cup of earl gray tea, does he finally check his phone.  

The spoon is barely out of his mouth when he sees the notifications.  Eyes wide, he chokes on the cereal trying to force its half chewed self down his throat.  He can taste the oat milk is his nose and it is not good. 

Mr. Stark accepted his friend request and messaged him?  Peter looked around his apartment, skeptical.  Was he dreaming? Was this one of those life-like dreams where he gets ready for the day then wakes up and has to do it all over again?  He looked down at his arm, should he pinch himself? No, Peter, that’s stupid.

He shook his head and looked at his phone again, opening the Messenger app.

Hey, Kid.

Shit, he was toast.  Collecting himself, Peter took a deep breath to prepare himself for a conversation with his former high school teacher (that he may or may not want to fuck him senseless and cuddle afterward). He racked his brain thinking about how to approach this.  Should he be bold? 

Hi, Daddy. Please cum down my throat? Yeah...that might be too bold.

Hello, Mr. Stark.  I humbly thank you for accepting my friend request.  Ugh, too weird.

He’s overthinking it, he knows. Peter types out and deletes maybe five more messages before he finally settles on:

09:10 am 

Hi, Mr. Stark.  It’s Peter.

09:11 am

Parker.

Peter threw his phone down on the table and put his head in his hands, bowl of cereal soggy and forgotten. He made a face at it and pushed the bowl away, pulling his toast closer.  He took bites of a slice distractedly and washed it down with some tea.  He’d regret not eating a proper breakfast later, but right now his appetite was replaced with a turning feeling that he couldn’t quite place.  His phone vibrates on the table, startling him from his thoughts.

From Tony Stark 09:22 am

Yeah, Peter.  I did read your name on your profile.

09:23 am

Right. Sorry.

From Tony Stark 09:23 am

Don’t worry about it, Kid. Just pokin’ fun.

09:24 am

(sweating emoji)

Thanks for accepting my friend request btw, Mr. Stark.

From Tony Stark 09:26 am

No big deal, thanks for the request, it’s been a while.

And Tony is fine, you’re not my student anymore, Pete.

09:26 am

Yeah, okay. Tony. I can do that

So you remember me?

From Tony Stark 09:27 am

I remember all my students

09:27 am

Really???

From Tony Stark 09:28 am

No, not really lol

But I do remember you, you were a lot skinnier back then.

09:30 am

(eye roll emoji) And you were a lot younger 

From Tony Stark 09:31 am

Ouch, that was uncalled for

09:32 am

You asked for it

So what have you been up to?

From Tony Stark 09:34 am

I’m a mechanical engineer now, quit teaching a few years ago. What about you?

09:35 am

That’s awesome! You were way too smart to be a teacher.

I’m a research chemist

From Tony Stark 09:38 am

Thanks, kid.

That’s about where I’d thought you’d end up, as smart as you are.

09:40 am

Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Stark

Tony*

Sorry.

From Tony Stark 09:40 am

Everywhere?

09:41 am

Everywhere.

From Tony Stark 09:50 am

Say, Pete. I don’t actually have a habit of checking this app and I’m about to head out of the house for the day.  I’d like to continue this conversation, so here’s my number if you wanna text me [hidden contact information].

No pressure of course.

From Tony Stark 09:53 am

Peter?

New Message

To: Tony

You know who I am.

From: Tony

Had me there for a second kid. 

I’m about to drive, I’ll text you in a bit.

Peter put his phone down for the first time in almost an hour, eyes straining to refocus after staring at his screen intensely for so long.  His heart was pounding in his chest and his cheeks were starting to ache from smiling.  Had that really happened? Peter brought a hand up to rub at his jaw, still in a daze.  He was finding it very hard to believe that this wasn’t some elaborate dream because there is absolutely no way that this could’ve happened in real life.  Talk about a glitch in the simulation.

He really got Tony Stark’s phone number, and he didn’t even have to ask for it!

Peter scoffed in disbelief, no fucking way! He opened the Facebook app again and went to Tony’s profile.  Turns out there wasn’t much else on it, he had a total of 3 profile pictures and less than 100 friends, none of which were other students and only a few midtown teachers.  So, he either was a very private person or he didn’t use Facebook at all.  And if it was the latter (or both for that matter), why did he accept Peter’s friend request in the first place?

Peter decided not to think about it right now.

He went to his profile pictures and glanced at the current one he already studied last night.  The previous one was just the Guns N’ Roses album cover for Appetite for Destruction.  Classic Rock fan, noted.  His first profile picture, though, was an absolute masterpiece.  Tony looked to be on a beach somewhere, his hair was wet and messy from the clear blue salt water.  Peter wanted to run his tongue over every inch of the olive toned skin exposed to the sun.  His smile was radiant, framed by neatly trimmed facial hair, with thick, dark eyebrows peeking over his sunglasses.  Swung low on his hips right below a toned stomach were hot rod red swim shorts that stopped in the middle of his thigh, showing off his tan legs dusted with dark hair.

Peter tried not to look, he really did, but he could not stop his eyes from landing on the older man’s crotch.  And he was not disappointed.  There, curving onto his thigh, was a long, thick unmistakable dick print.  Peter’s mouth watered at the sight as his own cock stirred with interest.

Fuck. He wondered how big he really was in person.  How far he could take it down his throat.  He wanted to know how it would feel to be stretched and filled by Tony’s cock.

Scooting his chair back abruptly, Peter shot up off of it.  His hard-on tenting almost painfully in his pajama pants and it was starting to create a wet spot.  Mattress shopping can wait, Peter needed to cum, like, yesterday.

He rushes to his room and yanks the drawer of his night stand open, revealing a wooden box.  Peter unlatches the box and grabs a bottle of lube and his veiny lifelike vibrating dildo with a suction cup right behind the silicone balls from his small collection.  This one was by far his favorite, it’s eight inches long and he loved feeling the veins and the girth of it filling him up. 

Peter lays a towel down on his bed and climbs to the middle, carefully avoiding the new dent in the mattress. He bunches up the pillows behind his back so he’s laying at an incline, then starts rubbing himself over his pajama pants while he uncaps the lube and squeezes some onto his fingertips. Clumsily, he pulls and shimmies his pants down his hips with his left hand, breath hitching when his heated erection makes contact with the cool air in his apartment.  It lands with a light smack against his abs and Peter tugs his shirt up and under his chin.  Kicking his pants off his bed, Peter spreads his legs.  He can feel his hole puckering in anticipation of being used.

His left hand begins lightly skimming his torso, feeling his abs contract under his finger tips.  Bringing them higher, he rubs across his chest, pinching his nipples softly.  Peter rubs the lube between his thumb and forefinger to warm it up, then starts rubbing the tight ring of muscle in circles, making his cock jump.

Once he’s coated, he sinks a finger in slowly to coax himself open.  His left hand continues caressing his body, skirting across the area right above his cock.  Peter lets out a plethora of whines and pants, eyes screwed shut at the feeling.  The image of Tony’s face urging him to take another finger.

He knows Tony’s fingers would be thicker, stretching him wider than Peter ever could with his own.  The younger man hoped his former teacher would be able to handle him the way he wanted.  Peter imagined large, strong hands encircling his throat while the other gripped hard on his hips while he took him.

Three of his fingers are buried deep in himself before he even touches his neglected, leaking cock.  His left hand comes to collect the precum pooling at the head and dribbling down his shaft, allowing his hand to glide along his hot skin. He strokes himself lazily as he pulls his fingers out and reaches for the dildo.  Uncapping the lube again he slicks up the silicone and brings it to his open, waiting hole. 

Pulling his left hand off of his cock, Peter grabs one of the pillows and stuffs it under the small of his back.

He imagines Tony looking down at him with dark, analytical eyes, watching Peters every movement.  The rise and fall of his chest, his heaving breaths.  The way Peter keens when he’s stretched like he longs for the sting of it.  Would he fuck into him slowly or would he seath himself in one smooth, quick stroke?

Peter chooses the latter.

He cries out as he pushes the dildo balls deep into his ass without pause.  The pain from the stretch mixes deliciously with pleasure.  Sweat beading on his forehead has Peter’s curls sticking wetly to his skin.  His entire body is covered in a thin sheen of it.

The young man turns onto his left side, dildo still deep inside him.  Peter reaches around his back with his right hand and grips the bottom of the suction cup.  He sighs, easing the dildo out slowly before pressing the button at the base of the shaft to turn on the vibration and ramming it into himself once more.

Tony would be taking him from behind, a long arm encircling Peter’s body, hand coming to grip him at the base of his neck, right above his collarbone so that he could pull the younger man down and onto his thick cock while he fucks up into him.  

Peter continued to fuck himself roughly with the dildo while he thought of Tony’s hard body doing it to him instead.  He’d whisper dirty things in Peter’s ear while he fucked him.  Tell him that he’s such a good little slut for his teacher.  Peter whined at the thought, he’d love it if Tony let him call him Mr. Stark in bed.

He starts stroking his cock faster, feeling his orgasm build in the pit of his stomach.  His right arm is starting to get tired from fucking the dildo into his ass for so long, he’s gotta cum soon.

Peter’s eyes fly open when he hears his phone vibrate through the thrumming in his ears.  It’s a text from Tony.

How’s my favorite student? Miss me?

That does it.  Peter’s entire body jolts as he cums all over his hand and the towel he laid on the bed, a high whine caught in his throat. 

He’s still trying to catch his breath a few minutes later, after he eases the dildo out and places it on the towel.  He wipes his hand off on it as well before he grabs his phone.  He definitely needs a shower now. Then he’ll go to the mall.

To: Tony

Don’t flatter yourself

To: Tony

Maybe a little

-

Tony can’t help but smile at his phone, he might have been a little too eager with the message, typing it up as soon as he put his car in park.  The easy banter going on between him and Peter was refreshing.  Tony couldn’t remember the last time he felt genuinely excited to talk to someone, let alone text.

As the conversation kept flowing while Tony picked up his dry cleaning, he could only deduce that it was because they were nearly equal on an intellectual level.  It may have helped that Peter was easy on the eyes as well.

They talked about their projects at work and the research behind it, what it was like at Columbia for Peter, and how MIT had been to Tony.  The older man made a mental note to ask where Peter worked at a later date, maybe he could recruit him.  He learned that Peter’s favorite colors were blue and red.  That he hated horror movies but watched them anyway just to spite himself.  He loved rom-coms and (surprise, surprise) sci-fi movies.  He couldn’t cook to save his life, Tony assured him he could give him lessons if he wanted, he could make a mean Chicken Piccata.

Tony couldn’t even bring himself to feel guilty about it at all.  The conversation was innocent and Tony was a flirt by nature, Pepper never had a problem with it.  If anything, this thing with Peter was just a budding friendship.  The universe knows Tony needed someone to talk to.

Around noon, Tony’s stomach started to grumble, not surprising considering the hearty breakfast of black coffee he had this morning.  Peter mentioned earlier that he’d been craving Gyros, and that didn’t sound half bad right about now.  He was a few blocks away from the mall anyway.

From: Peter

Here’s a contact picture, in case you needed one...

[see attachment]

The picture Peter sent was absolutely adorable.  His bangs fell over his forehead, slightly parted to the side so it wasn’t completely covered.  Tony felt utterly entranced by the younger man’s smile and the way his left eyebrow looked like he’d slept with his face buried in a pillow.  He was wearing a T-Shirt with a science pun on it, as if the kid couldn’t be any dorkier.  Tony loved it.

To: Peter

Is that a sly way of getting me to send you a selfie back?

Cute shirt by the way, where ya headed?

From: Peter

Maybe...did it work?

I’m going shopping for a new mattress, old one crapped out on me.

To: Peter

Here, since you asked so nicely

[see attachment]

From: Peter

Oof, you can just delete mine.  You just made me go from a solid 6 to like a 2

To: Peter

Hey, give yourself some credit, you’re definitely at least a 5

KIDDING, I’d rate you a solid 9, kid. Just because there’s always room for improvement

From Peter:

I would just like to know who gave you the right to be so sassy and RUDE

To: Peter

Definitely my narcissistic ego

No, but seriously Pete, you’re stunning.  Don’t listen to the old guy

From: Peter

Pls you’re not that old, Tony.

To: Peter

A man after my own heart.  Thanks, kid.

From: Peter

Anytime :-)

You’re more like my friend’s hot dad if anything

To: Peter

Little shit.

From Peter:

;-)

Tony shook his head fondly and stuffed his phone in his pocket as he entered the mall, looking around for something indicating what direction the food court was in.  He hadn’t been to this mall in a while, he admits since he’s been making more money it’s kept him from coming and eating the fast food they had here.  So he followed the signs until he got to the food court, and noticed there were still quite a few tables open for him to sit and eat at.  He made a point to stay as far away from the family with three screaming children as possible.

He scanned the choices until he found somewhere that had gyros and went to go stand in line.  The menu wasn’t too extensive, he could either get a gyro platter or a falafel platter, and he already knew what he was here for.  His eyes fell from the menu to the person in front of him.  Not to be a creep, he’s only human, but he had a fantastic ass.  A perfect little bubble butt.

The man was a little shorter than him, he had a trim waist that opened up to broad shoulders not bigger than Tony’s.  Incredible figure.  He’s probably a dancer or a marathon runner.  He also noticed this man had brown curls.  That made him snort softly to himself, he either had a type or Peter just invaded his mind in a short amount of time.  It could be either, honestly.

His eyes dropped to the phrase printed on the back of his shirt.

Never trust an atom, they make up everything

Ha.  Peter would love that shirt.

Wait.

Peter has that shirt.  It’s the one he was wearing in his selfie.

“Peter?”

The man in front of him whirled around to look at him with a puzzled expression.  Tony suddenly found himself unable to move or say another word.  He was instantly captivated by doe eyes and one of the prettiest faces he’d seen in a long time.

He watched his confusion turn into realization and then disbelief and dare he say: panic.

“Tony?”

@sweetqueen449, @slut-for-starker, @dim-ships-johnlock, @starkerhowlter, @sthefystarkersworld, @crazycocococonut, @bris-sins, @delicateavenuenacho, @ironspiderstarker, @katzenbaby1, @spider-iron-man, @rebel13lion39, @twokinkybeans, @frenchfrostpudding, @cherrygoldlove, @silkystarkk, @icandoakickflip, @irondaddio, @briesb1tch

creds to @problemchildnoonewanted for some of the messages in the beginning

[quickspinner]

⭐️star⭐️ Oooooorrr Hey gorgeous. Honestly one of my favorite lukanette stories of all time. Whichever you prefer 😊

Ask for director’s commentary

All right I’ve got another star in my inbox so we’ll go with Hey Gorgeous since that’s probably my most popular piece to date. So, how about a little bit of background, a couple of the issues I had writing it, and a deleted scene? I’m gonna go ahead and put a cut here because, as we all know: I’m wordy.

HG was totally an accident; I had no idea how it was going to blow up either in size or popularity. It’s also a fic that wouldn’t have happened, or at least wouldn’t have been nearly as big, if I hadn’t gotten such a great reaction to the beginning, so just know: Your feedback matters. If you like something, tell the author, because you never know what might happen (but it’s almost always more fic in some way or another).

I wrote the original 8 or 9 pieces mostly in one go; I did a little filling out and polishing before I posted each piece, and then when the feedback was so positive I started thinking about how I could continue and expand it, and I just jotted down the scenes as they came to me. That was really the fun thing about HG, aside from all the flirting which was fun to write--I didn’t worry about the things that usually stall me a bit. Because of the way I was writing it I didn’t worry about connecting scenes or flow. Usually, when I write a story, I have a bunch of really vivid scenes in my mind that I write first, and then I have to go back and connect them and smooth everything into a flow, but I didn’t bother with that with HG and that gave the story a really unique energy. Since it didn’t have a serious, plot-heavy narrative arc, I could just hit the high points of the relationship and that made it a lot of fun. 

I struggled a lot sometimes with whether Luka was really in character; HG Luka had a little less reserve and a little more sass than canon Luka. I tried to keep the things I see really essential to his character; his music (obviously), his empathy and sensitivity, his relationship with Juleka, his tendency to be a helper/caretaker and a problem solver. I admit I get salty with people who think there’s nothing to Luka; I think that the show gives us a lot of implied information and it’s not hard to extrapolate from there (if you actually care enough to think about it for five minutes instead of just dismissing his entire character because you don’t like the competition), but there’s also kind of a lot of wiggle room with him, because he gets so little screen time, and since I was working with an older Luka, I tried to sort of run with a direction I felt was plausible, even if it was a little more extreme than what we’d seen from him so far. That’s another reason why the feedback was so important in making this story continue; when I started to question what I was doing, I would look at the reactions and think, well, I must be doing something right, so here goes.

With that said, there were times where I started second guessing and got a little bit stuck. One of those spots was the moment where Luka sat down and talked to Marinette about the future. I didn’t want it to turn into a spontaneous proposal (because I already had the proposal scene planned) but I did feel like it was an important discussion to have. I also felt like I should show some conflict in their relationship, and that seemed like kind of a good point, but in the end...I just didn’t want to write it. I didn’t want to write them fighting! Because I didn’t want to it was next to impossible to actually do it, so finally I said the hell with it, I don’t care if it makes them look too perfect, I’m not dealing with that. But in the process of thinking through all of that I wrote this version of the scene, thinking maybe I could handle the argument in flashback, but ultimately, I decided it didn’t fit the tone of the story, and resigned myself to the fact that they would just stay too perfect. I can’t say I regret it, honestly. (Also I don’t know why there was so much cursing in this version of the scene, but it might have to do with the way I was winding myself up over getting it right, lol.)

***

Toni’s words weighed on his mind, but he couldn’t quite find the courage, or the words, or the right opening. 

Luka was overthinking it, he knew. Blunt, raw honesty had gotten him this far. They’d done the meet the parents thing, they lived together, and he was honestly being fucking ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he was asking her for any kind of commitment. 

So why was he so fucking terrified that asking her about the future was crossing a line? That it would somehow make her really look at the idea of a life with him and cause her to freak the fuck out.

He’d seen her freak out, a few months ago when she’d had deadlines stacked up and it was clearly physically impossible for her to meet them all. It wasn’t pretty. It was messy and tearful and honestly a little bit traumatizing, giving him flashbacks to Juleka’s darkest days. Seeing Marinette like that scared him literally sick, and the fight they’d had afterwards gave him chills to think about.

He’d been quietly furious that she had let things get so bad, but he had held it in until her deadlines were past and he’d thought she had recovered enough to talk about it...but she hadn’t, and it turned out neither had he. She’d fled livid and crying to Alya and he’d sobbed in Juleka’s lap, and in the end, after they’d both been talked down enough to deal with each other again, they’d agreed that Marinette had overextended herself to the point of endangering her health and sanity, and that Luka could find ways to confront her about it that didn’t involve projecting all the emotional trauma of his childhood into a situation that, while bad, wasn’t nearly dire enough to warrant his level of reaction. 

Luka hated himself for weeks afterward, even more so because Juleka felt guilty that her past problems had been a contributing factor. He probably owed her therapist a gift basket.

He jumped as he felt Marinette’s hands on his shoulders. “Hey, Gorgeous.” 

“Y-you’re t-tense t-today,” she said, leaning over the back of the couch. “Are y-you r-r-r—” She closed her eyes, and Luka reached up to squeeze her hand and sighed. He’d freaked her out, and now she was nervous. Her stutter was hardly ever that bad at home unless she was stressed out. “Sssorry,” she sighed. 

“It’s fine, I know I’ve been weird. Come on over here, I’ve been trying to figure out how to bring this up and I guess I might as well just blurt it out. It’s not bad stuff, just...well, I don’t know how you’re going to feel about it.”

Marinette came around the side of the couch and sat down next to him. Luka gave into the impulse to pull her into his lap. She wriggled around until she was snuggled against him but could still see his face. “You know I met with my agent the other day,” he said, figuring that was the best place to start. “She’s not happy about some of the choices I’ve been making, about the work I’ll take. She thinks I’m not thinking long term enough, and I…” He paused, and bit his lip, squeezing her thigh nervously. “I guess...I don’t know how to think long term without talking to you first. And I would never, ever want to pressure you into anything and I’m not asking you for any kind of commitment or—” Marinette put her fingers over his lips lightly to stop him. 

“J-just t-tell mmme what you w-want,” she said softly. 

Luka smiled. “I just wanna stay with you, babe, that’s all. I can do what I do anywhere. Toni thinks I should be willing to travel more, make more contacts now with people that will be big later. It all makes sense, I guess, except…” he shrugged. “I just don’t care. I’m not out to get famous or rich, I just want to be comfortable, and happy, and right now I’m all of those here with you.”

Marinette’s lips thinned slightly, and one finger tapped lightly on his arm in a nervous tic that meant she was thinking hard. Luka waited as patiently as he could, though his whole body felt tense and nervous. Marinette’s mind was a thing of wonder, and it was probably racing along paths of possibility he hadn’t even considered. 

When her focus returned to him, she didn’t speak immediately, and suddenly Luka found himself asking, “Does it bother you, that I don’t care about all that stuff? Is it...is it too much for me to want to always be here? Am I too much?”

“No,” she said clearly. “I don’t think you c-could b-be as...as you if that w-was what you wwwanted. And y-you’re n-not t-too mmmuch.” She turned pink. “Y-you’re mmy s-safe p-place, L-luka. Y-you always b-back off when I n-need ssspace, usually even b-before I h-have to ask. I w-want you to b-be here.” 

His shoulders must’ve lowered two inches in relief. Marinette giggled, patting his cheek. “I w-want you t-to be h-happy. I’m h-happy y-you asked mme, b-but I t-trust you to manage your c-career your own w-way.”