Don’t Worry Your Pretty Little Head
Pairing: Peter Ballard x Afab Fem! Reader - 001 x Afab Fem! Reader
Requested: request for smut prompts 8 28 29 33 with Peter Ballard or Jamie, whichever you think is more fitting! i love ur writing <3 hope ur doing well
Summary: An exhausted, overworked reader is forced to stay on shift over night. Can Peter convince her to take a break?
Warnings: Smut, Finger Sucking, Fingering, Oral (Fem Recieving), Impact Play (Pussy Spanking), Extreme Overstimulation, Dumbification, Praise Kink (LMK if I missed anything.)
A/N: I feel like a whore... that’s all
Prompts:
8. “Suck on my fingers baby.”
28. “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”
29. “Your thighs are shaking so much.”
33. “Just relax for me sweet girl, I’ll make you feel good.”
⚠️ This fic is 18+ so minors DNI ⚠️
———————
You aren’t supposed to be here.
You’re supposed to be at home on your couch, eating a microwaved TV dinner and watching sitcom reruns on your old, barely working television, much like you normally do after your shifts are over. But no. You’re stuck at your shitty job overnight.
Because your boss physically will not let you leave.
If you didn’t work for a top secret government facility, you would definitely be concerned about the legalities of this situation. However, because you do, you have to deal with these types of things no questions asked. Hawkins National Laboratory is not a place anyone should cross, or they might end up six feet underground with nobody looking for them.
There had been a fight earlier in the day involving two of the children, which meant quite a bit of paper work needed to be done. Normally it would be split up between the two nurses who were on duty at the time, because otherwise it would take way too long to complete.
But unfortunately for you, your secondary nurse came up with some stupid excuse to leave early, complaining of an upset stomach and nausea. Funnily enough, at lunch she’d been talking about going out with friends tonight and “getting wasted.”
You could see right through her lies, but much to your dismay, Dr. Martin Brenner could not. For someone who claims to be so intelligent, he can be real thick in the head sometimes.
He had sent the other nurse home with a wave of his hand, before turning to you with an annoyed, “You are not to leave this building until that paperwork is complete. Am I understood?”
You opened your mouth to tell him that was unattainable for you, but your office door was shut in your face before you could even make a sound.
That was five hours ago, and everyone else had since gone home, give or take a couple night guards and the overnight orderly. After hours, the level of staff significantly dwindles down to just those who are here for security purposes.
So here you are, typing away on your computer, mindlessly entering file after file into the system. Your eyes hurt from staring at the screen for so long, your fingers ache from the never ending typing and writing you’ve been doing, and your brain is absolutely fried.
You had hoped you could get it all done in time to leave and get at least a few hours of sleep, but that was proving to be impossible. You just want take a break from all this thinking and go home. Home to your warm, comfy bed.
You can’t help but close your eyes, longing to be wrapped up in your cozy sheets with nothing else in the world to worry about. Your head resting on the cold side of your pillow as the fireplace crackles next to you. You don’t even realize your fingers have remained pressed down on the keyboard until a hand gently clasps your shoulder.
“I may not be an expert darling, but I don’t think this is quite the information they’re looking for.”
Your eyes shoot open and you jump slightly at the sound of the voice. You glance over your shoulder to see your friend Peter in all his glory, staring down at you in nothing but amusement. You can’t help but stare back, eyes tracing his every - perfectly sculpted - feature. It’s almost unfair to you how beautiful he is; some days you even find yourself feeling jealous. The rest of the time though, you’re swooning.
As cheesy as it may sound, it’s the truth. It might be the way he speaks to with such tenderness, or maybe the way he gently touches you; one of his hands always placed on the small of your back, on your shoulder, or sometimes even in your hair when he feels like playing with it. Your favorite though?
Anytime you’re even a little nervous, he doesn’t hesitate to grasp your hand into his. It makes you flustered every time without fail, though he finds it endearing.
He always makes the same face when he’s amused with you too, a smirk resting on his lips and his eyes lighting up while he teases you about your bright pink cheeks. Much like the same face he’s making at you right now.
Oh, wait.
“Sorry, what’d you say?”
His smirk grows, and he huffs out a small laugh. One of his hands moves to brush the hair from your face, while the other reaches over, gently pulling your finger from where it had been pressing down on one of the keys.
Your brows furrow as you turn back towards your computer, seeing the screen filled with nothing but the letter “P.” You can’t help but groan, dropping your head into your crossed arms. Peter chuckles, sitting down on the table next to the computer, watching your utter misery.
“I thought you only work day shift.” You say, muffled.
“I don’t know where you got that idea from. I work plenty of night shifts.” You can’t help but raise your head, staring at him, dumbfounded. “How the fuck do you do it? This is hell.”
He huffs out a sigh, his amusement now being mixed with pity as he studies your features. You look exhausted. Hair that was once neatly tucked away into your bun has now fallen messily, and your eyes have formed dark circles under them, only highlighting how tired you must be.
“I heard what happened. Brenner told me to ‘key an eye on you’ in fact.”
Your face falls into one of disbelief, “You’re kidding.” He shakes his head, and you roll your eyes, repeatedly pressing the backspace button on the keyboard, “This is so stupid. It’s already almost midnight, and I’m only halfway through this stuff. My mind is fried Peter. It hurts to think.”
He watches you for another moment as you type away maniacally, entering the correct information into the system this time.
“You know…” he reaches over, placing one of his hands gently over yours, causing you to look at him, “It doesn’t hurt to take a break once in a while.”
You think about it for a second, and only a second, before shaking your head and continuing to type, “I can’t, I have to get this done. I want to actually get some sleep tonight.”
He frowns, but doesn’t say anything else as he leans back to watch you work.
You continue typing for another few minutes, completely zoning out as you enter in file after file. You expect Peter to leave you to your devices, but he does just the opposite. He stays right where he is, eyes focused on you. Normally you don’t mind comfortable silences, they’re usually pretty peaceful, but this is anything but that.
At some point, it becomes harder to focus on the work before you. You become hyper aware of how his eyes burn through you, and can practically feel them watching your every move, raking up and down your body.
You chew on your lip in an attempt to ignore him and keep working. And if you just so happen to be pressing your thighs together, you can only hope that he doesn’t take notice.
Except he does.
“Something wrong sweetheart?” He asks, a teasing edge in his tone. You try to ignore him but he stands to face you, and you bite your lip even harder.
Finally, you look up at him, your eyes meeting his devilishly blue ones. He’s still got that stupid smirk on that stupidly handsome face with his stupidly perfect hair and-
Goddammit.
“Stop it.”
He raises an eyebrow, playing dumb, “Stop what?” He knows exactly what he’s doing.
You huff and shake your head, eyes rolling as you turn back towards the computer, “You know what.”
He hums, pausing for a moment before he leans down, lips inches from your ear, “Why?” He whispers, and dear god you’re about to collapse in this god forsaken desk chair, “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”
Your breath hitches, and your eyes pinch shut. You can’t help but dig your fingernails into your palms in an effort to ground yourself. If only you could get it together, because this really isn’t the best time or place for this to be happening to you. You find yourself rubbing your thighs together again, not even caring if he notices this time.
You try to say his name in an attempt to be firm with him, to warn him to stop.
“Peter…”
You fucking whimper it.
He wastes no time, spinning the desk chair so you’re facing him. He places his hands on both armrests as he leans over you, effectively trapping you in.
“Oh sweetheart…” He cooes at you, head tilting in mock sympathy, and you can feel your resolve slipping away, “Why don’t we take a little break hm?”
You turn your head back towards the computer for a moment, that tiny little part of you fighting so hard to stay focused, “I…I don’t-”
He gently grips your chin, tilting your head back to face him, and god, if you aren’t the prettiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Your pupils are so unbelievably dilated, your cheeks are flushed a deep shade of red, and your bottom lip is plump from your consistent biting.
With the way your hair messily falls into your face and your chest heaves with stuttered breaths, he wants nothing more than to spread you out on a table, and have his way with you until you’re a trembling mess beneath him. He trails his hand up slightly to cup your cheek, thumb gently stroking over your brow bone.
“I bet that brain of yours is so tired isn’t it? All those thoughts running through your head- they’re just too much for you to handle aren’t they?”
Your legs are trembling and your head is spinning. The way he’s speaking is so new to you, but it has you ready to drop to your knees in front of him. He’s not too far off either; you’re so tired and your brain hurts. You need a break. You need-
“You need someone to make them all go away don’t you?”
Jesus fucking Christ.
You inhale sharply, his words going straight to your core. Your mouth opens and closes as you try to pry a response from your muddled thoughts, slightly resembling a fish out of water. You give up eventually, opting to let out a desperate whine instead. You can’t decide what’s more distracting- the ache between your legs or the way his hand cradles your face.
His thumb moves to trace over your bottom lip, while a mocking pout settles on his own, “Poor thing, so tired and dumb that she can’t even form a proper sentence.”
He’s right, he’s so unbelievably right. Which is why you don’t even realize that you’ve wrapped your lips around his thumb and are gently sucking on it. His eyes are filled with pure hunger as he watches you with parted lips of his own.
He gently pulls his thumb out from between your lips, not even giving you a chance to whine before replacing it with both his middle and pointer finger. You continue to look up at him, mindlessly sucking on both digits and letting yourself feel utterly blissful.
“That’s it,” he praises, “suck on my fingers baby.”
You hum in response, closing your eyes as you circle your tongue around them, hollowing out your cheeks. He lets you have your fun for another moment or two, mesmerized by the way you’ve become an absolute mess for him, before slipping his fingers out from your mouth and admiring how the drool slips down your chin.
You whine pathetically as he does so, and he cooes in response, “Shhh, c’mon pretty girl.” He takes your hand, helping you stand from your chair and guiding you over to one of the nursing cots. As he sets you down, he tries to pull away for a moment, but you don’t let him. You grip the front of his crisp white shirt between your fingers and pull him towards you, clashing your lips against his.
He huffs out a laugh against your lips, mumbling, “greedy little thing,” in between kisses. And he’s right, you are greedy, and aching, and desperate to feel him, and only him. You’re entire body is filled to the brim with nothing but desire.
Peter climbs onto the cot, hovering over you as his lips slowly make their way down your jawline, your neck, and your chest. He leaves nothing but endless hickeys in his wake as you come completely undone beneath him. He fumbles with the buttons of your shirt and the clasp of your bra, prying them both off of you, one after the other.
If you had been told five hours ago that you would be here by the end of the night, you would’ve laughed and slammed the door in that person’s face. But yet, here you are, brainless, desperate, and completely at the mercy of Peter, while his lips explore every visible inch of skin on your body.
He practically drools as the sight of your breasts, fondling them in his hands. You can’t help but moan when he attaches his lips to one of your nipples, suckling on it gently while he pinches the other one. He switches back and forth, both for his and your own pleasure. His eyes flick up to your face, watching you writhe in desperation underneath him. His cock is so painfully hard in his pants, but that’s the least of his worries right now, only wanting to hear your pretty little moans as he makes you feel good.
“That’s it darling. Don’t think, just feel. I’ll make it all feel better.”
His lips continue their attack on your skin, making their way down your tummy and to the hem of your skirt. He gently pushes your legs up, and his hands are quick to slide the bottom of the skirt up to your waist, revealing your baby pink panties.
“Oh baby…” He moans at the sight, watching as your hole pulses and flutters underneath the soaked, translucent fabric. His eyes flick up to your face once more, seeing just how fucked out you look, without him even touching you yet, “Look at how messy you are.”
He’s honestly half a second away from devouring your perfect little cunt before your sweet voice fills his ears, pausing his movements entirely.
“P-Peter…” you stutter, nervously. It might be the only word you can physically form right now, but that isn’t stopping you from expressing concern.
You aren’t a virgin, but this type of situation is new to you. Your mind has never been so clouded. It’s not that it doesn’t feel good, because, god does it feel good, you just haven’t experienced such vulnerability before. So you can’t help the way your hands tremble while his face is inches from your exposed pussy.
It takes no more than two seconds for his hand to reach up and grasp yours, squeezing reassuringly, “I got you. I’m right here.” he soothes, and you release a slow breath. He never fails to calm your nerves.
“That’s it,” he smiles, feeling your hand slowly stop trembling in his grasp, “Just relax for me sweet girl, I’ll make you feel good.” You squeeze his hand in return and he can’t help but place a gentle kiss to your inner thigh,
“If you want me to stop at any point, I will. Just say the word. Do you understand?” You nod dumbly in response, only to yelp as his other hand comes down hard against your cunt, spanking it.
“I need you to use your words for this one darling,” he chides, cupping his hand over your drooling cunt in an effort to soothe the pain, “C’mon, you can do it.”
It takes you longer that you care to admit, and you struggle for a moment or two, desperately trying to form enough words in your head for a valid response. Your chest heaves as another pathetic whimper escapes your lips, prompting another slap to your core.
Your whole body jerks this time, forcing out a desperate cry of, “Y-Yes s-sir!”
And if he wasn’t salivating at the mouth before, he certainly is now. He moans in response, thumb circling your clit over your panties, before sliding them to the side.
“Good fucking girl.”
He leans in and places a sweet kiss to your cunt, as if apologizing for striking it. You shudder at that first contact. It sends a shock through you, hyper sensitive with want. He takes your clit between his lips and sucks very gently. Your head is thrown back immediately as he provides you the relief you’ve been needing.
“O-oh Peter…”
His tongue laps at your clit before flicking it through your folds, and looking up at you through his lashes. He loves how you’re reacting as he borderline makes out with your soaked cunt. Your moans fill the air as you take what he gives you, and Peter can’t be more grateful that the nursing rooms are sound proof, your pretty little noises being for his ears only. He dips his tongue down to your weepy hole, circling it around the entrance to taste you.
“So wet for me,” he mumbles against you. You whimper, hole fluttering at how good he’s making you feel, “You taste like heaven.”
He pulls back to lightly blow on your cunt, his saliva cooling in the air. He chuckles as he watches you twitch, licking another strip over your clit and blowing on it again. You whine and shift underneath him, your hips involuntary bucking. He smirks, shushing you gently, before dipping back in to taste you.
Your back arches off of the bed while he sucks and laps at you, upper body rising and falling violently on the bed. It’s almost like he’s been starved for weeks, and your cunt is the only thing that can satiate his hunger. He savors every taste of you, like he’s never eaten anything more luscious.
You hardly even notice when he pauses to remove your panties entirely, slipping them up your legs and placing them in his back pocket.
His tongue dips inside of you while he circles your nub with his thumb. Your hips buck to meet his face and you can’t help but grind into his tongue, feeling the coil in your lower stomach beginning to tighten. Your desperate little moans and gasps fill the room as his tongue plunges inside you. Your paperwork is long forgotten at this point as your thoughts empty out of your head, being replaced with just…
Peter
A small part of you registers the fact that he’s still holding your hand as he eats you out. He’s bringing you to new heights of pleasure, reducing you to nothing but a sobbing thing beneath him, all while holding your hand to let you know your safe. To let you know he’s taking care of you.
That thought alone has your toes curling, and another pathetic cry leaves your lips.
He can tell you’re getting close, based on the intensity of your moans and the way your muscles begin to pulse. He maneuvers so his mouth is back to suckling on your clit, and one of his fingers is circling your entrance. He eyes you above him, watching your mouth part in utter ecstasy as he slides his middle finger inside of you.
You’re far gone – so far gone.
He hardly gets a chance to relish in how tight your perfect little hole is before you’re pushed over the edge, completely coming undone around him.
Choked out moans and pants fill the air, and you cum so hard around his finger it makes you lurch forward, entire body shaking. "Shh, shh,” he hushes you, "There you go. Good girl.”
He pumps his finger in and out of you, working you through your orgasm. Your body collapses back against the bed as you attempt to catch your breath, but Peter has other plans. He releases his grip on your hand, wasting no time attaching his lips to your clit once again, sucking on it with much more intensity this time.
A surprised whine escapes your lips and your back arches, legs trying to close around his head. You’re too sensitive, but he doesn’t care, arm moving to rest across your hips, holding your thighs apart to keep your legs opened, your cunt bared.
“A-Ah!” You cry out, unable to stop the way your legs are trembling. Your hands quickly find their way into his hair, needing something to desperately cling to. His finger continues to pump in and out of you as he devours your poor little cunt. Tears prick at your eyes from how fucking good it feels.
He teases a second finger at the entrance of your leaking hole, before easily plunging it in beside the first one. The stretch feels amazing, and it’s the first thing you’re able to actually vocalize since before he even started eating your cunt.
“God, fuck- feels so good- feels so fucking good Peter…need more.”
He hums around your clit, the vibrations shooting throughout your whole cunt, and your eyes roll back into your head. You can feel him teasing a third finger against your hole and you grind down into it, needing to feel more of him. He obliges, thrusting it into you along with his other two fingers, stretching you out deliciously around them.
Slowly, the sensitivity of it all begins to burn away as your next orgasm approaches once more. It builds up much quicker than before with the way his fingers fuck you open, bringing you right to the edge.
“Oh- oh fuck I-I’m gonna cum…”
You can’t help but look down at him, watching as he licks and sucks on your clit, moaning into you to let you know just how much he’s enjoying it. He eyes look up to meet yours and god he looks so good like this, hair tousled, eyes wild with desire, and his mouth coated in your slick as he suckles on your clit.
The coil within your stomach snaps as you look at him, and you’re pushed over the edge once again. Your grind your pussy down into him as you ride out the high once more, letting him work you through it.
Your slick drips down his hand as your hole clenches around him, and he pulls away from you, placing gentle kisses up and down your trembling inner thighs as you come back down.
You pant, sweat dripping down your forehead as you lay back, feeling completely blissful and floaty. Peter’s definitely done a good job at emptying your head of any and all thoughts that weren’t of him, because you’re so unbelievably fucked out.
“Your thighs are shaking so much.” His voice echoes through your head, as he runs his free hand over them, feeling them tremble from even the slightest touch.
He gives you a few more seconds to rest before a dark chuckles escapes him, and he curls his fingers inside of you deliciously. A strangled gasp fills the air and your whole body twitches when he leans back down, licking a strip from just above your hole, up to your clit. You struggle to form words of protest, already feeling twice as sensitive as last time.
“N-no! Can’t Peter- I can’t!” You sob, tears finally breaking free and rolling down your cheeks.
He lays his head to the side, resting it on your inner thigh. He pulls his fingers out for a moment, using one of them to rim your hole as he looks up at you in mock sympathy.
“Ohhh but I think you can. I think this sweet little pussy of yours can give me one more yeah?” He teases, and you shake your head, squirming, “So that’s what you’re going to give me.” He dives back in, mercilessly attacking your overstimulated cunt.
Thrashing would be the best word to define you right now, hands leaving his hair and finding anchors on the sweat-soaked sheets of the cot beneath you. Your head turns into the nearest pillows in an effort to not sound like you’re being murdered, mascara running and wisps of hair flying and soft laughs that go through your entire soul as Peter watches your struggle. As he enables it.
He returns to those sloppy kisses that let him get a taste of you. Your muscles clench and your hips lift off the bed entirely as his tongue works you out. His lips on your clit and his dispersed praises and those rough licks on your cunt like you’re laid out before him like a meal, which honestly isn’t too far off.
You can’t stop shifting, not with the pain that bubbles in your stomach from your third building orgasm. It’s intense. It’s sensitive. It hurts. You tear at the sheets, then back to his hair, blubbering like an absolute child about it. Your third orgasm approaches so quickly that it’s painful. You’re a sobbing, wild, mess beneath Peter, and he’s absolutely relishing in it.
“P-Peter…” you sob weakly, his name once again being the only word you can piece together in your fucked out little brain. It hurts so bad but it feels so good at the same time, and your senses feel like they’re dialed to 11.
“Shhh,” he places a gentle kiss right above your clit, gently stroking your thigh with the thumb of his free hand, offering you a slight reprieve, “C’mon, you can do it.”
All of a sudden his fingers are pumping into you at an impossibly intense rate, and he’s licking and sucking on your cunt like his life depends on it. Your head is thrown back, and your eyes roll into your head as he walks no, —drags—your orgasm from you with determined fists, leaving nothing in his wake.
You’re seeing hallucinations. You have to be. Colors flying across a canvas of pure white, neon dots and black floaters that have you convinced you may have died and come back to life. Your body- your muscles and sinew and bones and soul shake with the fervor of it. Convulse, really.
Peter sighs as he rises, almost like he’s just had the most refreshing glass of water after hours exercise, yet you feel like the exerted one, twitching from aftershocks and tremors. He slips his fingers from your hole, licking them clean as he admires the aftermath of his attack on your poor cunt.
You’re red, swollen, pulsing, and slickened with sweat and cum and spit. It’s a little beautiful, the way your cum is leaking out of your entrance and onto the sheets. He dips down once more, swiping his tongue against your hole for one final taste of you, and your whole body convulses, a desperate sob ripping from your lips.
“Shhh sweetheart,” he shushes, “No more, I promise. You did so good for me.”
You can hardly even hear him, your mind a thousand miles away. You feel like you’re floating on cloud nine, and your whole body is tingling. Peter climbs up the cot until he’s laying on his side above you, stroking the sweaty hair from your face. You hum in content as his sweet words and praises begin to flood into your ears, bringing you back to the present.
“There she is,” he places a kiss to your hair line, thumb stroking your jaw, “Feeling okay?” You nod still feeling floaty.
“Feels good…” You hum, and he chuckles.
“I’d hope so. It wasn’t too much for you was it?” You shake your head, easing his concern slightly. You pry your eyes open to meet his, smiling at him.
“No. It was perfect Peter, thank you…” you lean up to kiss him again, and he returns it, hand gently cradling your face. The two of you lay back down in the bed, and you rest your head on his chest. His arms find their way around you as he lets you calm down in his arms, the trembling of your body not having fully stopped yet.
It isn’t until you’re half asleep that you remember the paperwork, shooting up and scaring the hell out of Peter. The idea of doing it all, now that you’re even more exhausted, brings you to tears again. But this time, not so happy ones.
“Hey, hey don’t worry about it.” Peter’s arms wrap around your waist, cradling you from behind, “You don’t have to finish the paperwork sweetheart.”
You hiccup, shaking your head, “But Brenner’s gonna be pissed if I don’t and there’s nobody else to get it done because Miranda wanted to go out and get drunk and-”
“Listen to me,” his lips rest up against the shell of your ear, speaking to you like he would the children when they’re scared or upset. He knows that your hypersensitive and floaty state of mind is only adding on to your levels of stress, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about the paperwork. I’m going to get you all cleaned up okay? And I’ll talk with Brenner in the morning, come up with something.”
You turn to look at him, all doe eyed and puzzled, “How do you know he’ll listen to you?”
Peter smiles in return as if he knows something that you don’t, and wipes the tears away before placing a chaste kiss to your cheek, “He always does…I think I’m his favorite,” you roll your eyes, letting the comment go over your head as you grumble about wishing you were the favorite employee. A smirk takes over his face at your blatant naivety.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it baby, now c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.” And you oblige, letting him take care of you. He manages find some rags, wetting them and wiping the sweat and tears from your face. He uses another to clean the mess between your legs, gently shushing you when you whine in discomfort. He helps you back into your clothes, aside from your ruined panties, before you both curl up in one of the unused cots for the night.
And the next morning, if any of the other orderlies notice him holding your hand on your way out of your office, well, they don’t say a word.
———
Requested by: @hbaramas
