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justfandomwritings · 2 years

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You'll See Why (Peter Ballard x Reader)

Pairing: Peter Ballard x Female!Reader, implied Steve x Reader (Does not really factor into the story)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: mostly just fluff and angst that doesn't require a content warning. General content warnings consistent with Stranger Things

Summary: It couldn't be him. She refused to believe it. Eleven had to be wrong, had to have the wrong person. It wasn't that he wasn't capable of something like this; in the back of her mind, she knew he was. More, it was that she didn't want to face what it meant about herself.

Masterlist. Ko-Fi.

There was a familiar face staring blankly up at her from the page… she knew this face.

“Well, he looks evil,” Steve mused, looking at the drawing over her shoulder.

“He was 001… He was the first. They built the lab to contain him.” Eleven explained.

(Y/n) was holding up the sketch Eleven had drawn of the patient from Hawkins Lab, who Eleven knew as 001, that Nancy had discovered was Henry, that they all called Vecna.

(Y/n) knew that face.

“(Y/n)?” Dustin touched her shoulder. “(Y/n), are you okay?”

She heard her brother’s voice talking to her, and yet somehow she didn’t register it. He felt, he sounded, so far away.

It felt like an out of body experience, like her thoughts were no longer contained inside her brain, like they were swirling around her in a cloud, consuming her entire world. This was not Henry Creel, could not be Vecna. Eleven had to be wrong. She knew this face, and she knew it all too well.

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“Hi Peter, I see they let you out again. The usual?” (Y/n) smiled brightly.

Peter was her favorite regular at Benny’s, not that he was all that regular. He came in once every couple weeks or so. She assumed whenever the lab could spare him, though he always referred to it as a “reward” for good behavior. Benny’s menu was hardly “reward” worthy. It was decent. Benny was a good cook, but it was just regular diner food. She could think of four other diners in Hawkins that served the same fair, though Benny’s was certainly the closest to the ltab.

He wasn’t a particularly nice regular. He tipped very well, which she appreciated, but most regulars do or they wouldn’t be regulars anymore. Mostly, he was her favorite because he was an enigma. He worked for the Hawkins National Laboratory up the road, and he was very cagey about his work and himself.

“No coffee,” Peter amended without looking up from the papers in front of him.

(Y/n) scribbled haphazardly on the ticket and slid it across the window to put on deck for Benny. There were a couple tickets ahead of it, and that gave her extra time.

(Y/n) dragged the stool out from behind the register and plopped down directly in front of Peter, propping her elbows on the counter and looking at him expectantly.

Peter rolled his eyes but kept them trained on his work. This was (Y/n)’s usual routine any time Peter came into the diner, so he didn’t need to look up to know she was staring him down.

“Must you watch your customers so intently? I feel like a subject in the lab.”

“Only the interesting ones,” (Y/n) dismissed. “Now tell me; how’s the lab?”

Peter flipped over one of the pages mindlessly. He hadn’t processed all the words, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen if (Y/n) had anything to say about it. He kept up the appearance of reading though to hold her interrogations to a minimal. “It is in its usual state. I am nothing but a humble nurse for the children being experimented upon and tortured within its walls.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. It wasn’t the kind of joke she would have made, but she let it slide. “Yes, of course, but how is your work?”

“Why would you care to know?” Peter dismissed the question.

“Because I’m bored, and like my brother always says life is a curiosity voyage.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Your brother sounds foolish.”

“Hey,” (Y/n) reached up and smacked Peter lightly on the side of the head, causing him to jolt. He stared at her in utter disbelief, as if no one had ever touched him before in his life, which she found very hard to believe. He was far too high and mighty, full of himself, not to have been bullied as a kid. “That’s my brother. Only I get to mess with him.”

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Nonresponsive and zoned out was not a good thing to be in Hawkins, Indiana in 1986.

“She’s infected with Vecna!” Dustin began to panic, “Quick someone get my headphones from the desk,” Dustin pointed to the desk behind Max, who practically threw the headphones in her rush to get them to Steve as Dustin ran to the small shelf and began digging through Mike’s cassette tapes.

“No, no,” (Y/n) shook aside the memory as quickly as she could manage. “Dustin,” she called to her brother, “Really, I’m fine!”

“Like hell you are,” behind her, Steve forced the plastic strap of the headphones around her neck. “Seriously? How hard is it to find Pat Benatar!” Steve shouted.

“Again, I’m fine,” (Y/n) rolled her eyes, wrenching the headphones off.

They couldn’t afford to waste a pair on her now. She could feel things coming to a head. Over the last 24 hours, virtually all of them had had to procure a pair of headphones and wrap them around their necks. Only Steve, Dustin, Eleven, and herself hadn’t heard the ticking of a clock at some point yet. A low drone of noise was filling the room as songs played from the necks of the other occupants.

“Really!” She insisted to the skeptical crowd of teens staring her down, “no ticking. I was just…” In addressing the room, her eyes found Eleven’s, “remembering something.”

Eleven’s eyes seemed to see right through her, and (Y/n) hesitated for a moment, wavering in whether revealing this information was a good idea or not. Everyone else in the room was staring at her, eyes darting now and again to Eleven.

It was too late to back out now. She took a breath and, watching Eleven’s face intently for her reaction, said the name.

“Peter Ballard.”

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“Hi again Peter, I’ll put the usual on for you.” (Y/n) greeted him with a wave as he came through the door.

This time, when Peter walked in, Benny’s was empty except for herself and Benny. He had his usual folder full of papers tucked under his arm, stamped with the fancy Hawkins Lab’s seal on the cover declaring it was privileged information.

“Thank you,” Peter took up his usual counter seat.

He had a way of being both extraordinarily polite and also incredibly rude at the same time. It was like he had spent his entire life being lectured on manners without actually having a single social interaction in which to use them.

“Benny!” (Y/n) called loudly over the order window, “Peter’s usual!”

Benny was somewhere in the back. With the diner being empty, Benny had ducked out to rearrange the stock while he left (Y/n) to mind the front. “Give me just a minute!” She heard her boss shout back.

“So!” (Y/n) whipped around, leaning back against the order window, “Gonna tell me how work was today?”

“Tiresome.” Peter clipped.

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow, “That’s about as descriptive as you’ve ever been. Was it coworkers or your human test subjects?” She said the last part teasingly.

Peter paused for a moment, still not looking up from his papers, but he seemed to consider her question longer than he usually would before dismissing her. “Boss.” Having answered, Peter immediately went back to flipping through pages, only adding under his breath, “Not that I would call him that, persay. He’s more like my worst nightmare.”

(Y/n) chuckled and approached, taking up her usual seat across from him. “Tell me about it. Last week, Benny didn’t let me off early on Friday even though it was my mom’s birthday, so my little brother recruited his friends to try to bake her birthday cake instead of waiting for me and almost lit my house on fire.”

The word fire seemed to catch Peter’s attention. He still didn’t give her the time of day or meet her eyes, still seemed to think that she was too beneath him for that, but his head did cock to one side. He was listening.

“What’s so nightmarish about your boss?”

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“What do you mean you ‘know’ Vecna?” Dustin demanded.

“He came into Benny’s from time to time,” (Y/n) felt like she was retreating into her skin. Eleven, Mike, Eddie, Max, the whole room. They were all watching her with dark eyes, watching her like they were watching the enemy.

Dustin was staring at her in utter shock. He didn’t notice the looks from his friends or the fear in her eyes. He was still trying to comprehend this massive piece of information.

Only Steve’s hand, resting with a firm grip on her shoulder, was keeping her grounded in the room, keeping her from bolting out the door like a frightened deer.

“And you talked to him? You knew him?” Max joined the questioning, her tone far closer to interrogation than Dustin’s disbelieving one.

(Y/n) shrugged defensively, “Lots of people from the labs came in. We were the closest restaurant. He said he was a nurse. I didn’t know he was the literal devil.”

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“Your boss sounds like a dick, no offense.”

“None taken.” Peter had talked to her. He had actually talked to her. Granted, they were complaining about their bosses, which was the oldest and most basic form of bonding in the book, but still. It was something. “He is.”

“Well,” (Y/n) hopped down from the seat she had taken on the counter while he recounted his tale of woe. “I’m gonna start cleaning up if it’s all the same to you.”

Peter waved his hand down the length of the counter and immediately reverted his eyes back to his papers that were off to the side of the plate he was presently eating off of.

(Y/n) smirked to herself as she pulled out her rag. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. She’d be damned if she wasn’t going to keep poking at him till she got the answers she wanted.

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It was Nancy who turned the whole scene into a proper interrogation. Though, perhaps given her profession, it was more of an interview. She waved the kids away from the seat in front of (Y/n) and took up a spot front and center in her vision.

“Tell us everything you know about him. Start from the beginning.”

(Y/n) took a breath and recited the facts as coldly and emotionlessly as she could manage. “His name was Peter Ballard. He came into the diner once every couple weeks. Everyone else from the lab came in groups, but he…” Her voice cracked for a moment, and she hoped everyone else in the room saw it as nothing more than the nerves it was, “He was always alone. He barely talked to me. The others said he was a nurse, and that he never talked to anyone in the lab either. He always brought files with him to read. It took months for him to even bother making eye contact with me.”

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“You never went to a proper high school?”

“No,” Peter droned. He still acted thoroughly unamused with her presence, but he had started more readily answering her questions.

(Y/n) huffed and leaned back on her stool, tilting away from him. “Well, that explains so much.”

Peter’s eyes shot up from his paper, and for the first time he met her gaze. Not exactly an angry expression, but at the least a doubtful one, colored his face as his eyebrows drew together. “How?”

“Well,” she let the legs of her stool fall back on the floor with a crash as she leaned forward towards Peter, “Sure, you didn’t have to deal with assholes on the basketball team shoving you into lockers, or girls on the cheer squad making fun of your clothes. But you also never found a group of friends with the same niche interest as you, or a guy to bond with over your mutual hatred of some bully, or a cute girl who thought you were the cutest thing since God invented puppies.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed.

“No, I’m serious,” (Y/n) immediately dismissed his expression. “Sure, there are giant swathes of humanity that are the absolute worst, but there are some humans who are really great when you give them the chance. And you,” she poked a finger into his chest, “never did. You were aware that some people sucked, but you didn’t hang around long enough to find the ones that didn’t before you decided to write all of us off as intolerable.”

Peter pursed his lips and turned back to his files. He wasn’t going to continue this line of conversation.

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“That’s really all I know, Nancy. I swear.” (Y/n) huffed.

“There has to be something though!” Nancy jumped up from her seat and began to pace, “It can’t be a coincidence that you knew him. Can it?”

“I didn’t know him,” She emphasized. “We didn’t exactly bare our souls to each other and get matching tattoos. We were friendly. He came in every couple weeks, ordered the same thing. Towards the end he started making small talk, but that was it. Small talk. He didn’t exactly spell out for me that he had dreams of becoming a mass murderer.”

“Yeah, but what are the odds that you would get wrapped up in all of this?” Jonathan pointed out. “It sounds like you’re the only person he talked to outside of the lab.”

“Pretty freakin’ high, Jonathan,” (Y/n) huffed. “If you haven’t noticed, Hawkins isn’t a metropolis. It’s a pretty small town, and weird shit keeps happening. We’re all wrapped up in it at this point.”

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(Y/n) froze, staring at Peter as he approached his usual seat at the counter. She’d clocked him instantly when he walked in, and instantly had known something was very off.

He looked more or less the same, all white outfit, holier than thou expression. His hair was in its usual blonde waves, and he seemed more or less as agitated with his own existence as he usually did.

“H-Hey Peter, Usual?” (Y/n) asked.

“Yes, please,” Peter replied.

And in that moment she realized it. That moment when he sat there, still looking up at her expectantly, waiting for her to put his order in. That moment when he didn’t look down.

No files.

(Y/n) rushed the order in to Benny and whirled back around to join Peter. There were a handful of other people in the diner, but they were all regulars who’d already gotten their food and knew their way around. She was completely unbothered with doing her rounds to their tables.

“Why no files?”

Peter raised an eyebrow, “Aren’t you the one who’s always bugging me to talk to you?”

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“He’s not here,” Dustin dropped the flashlight back to his side with a huff.

They had gone to the Creel house again, hoping to find where in the Upside Down Vecna was. Now that they had Eleven, with her powers back no less, they wanted to lure him to a place they could face off against him.

“(Y/n),” Lucas called over the bannister from the second floor. “Did Vecna ever mention anywhere else he liked to go? Or somewhere else in Hawkins he felt connected to?”

“No!” (Y/n) shouted back with a huff, “If he’s not here he must be at the lab!”

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“So?” (Y/n) smiled, “Thoughts?”

“It’s… cold.” Peter mused.

(Y/n) huffed and pulled back from where she was leaning on the counter. “That’s it? It’s cold? I thought you were going to actually help me? You know, useful feedback?”

Peter slowly pushed the mostly-full milkshake away from his plate. “I never agreed to help you. You only assumed I would when I came in.”

“Yeah! For a free milkshake!” (Y/n) threw her hands up, utterly exasperated with him, “You have to have more thoughts than ‘it’s cold’. I’m making Benny put milkshakes on the menu, and it’s my ass on the line if they aren’t good.”

“It’s sweet.” Peter added, picking up another fry and taking a bite.

“Ooooh! Thank you so much! That’s so much more helpful.” She bit back sarcastically.

Rolling her eyes, (Y/n) snatched the milkshake away, slurping through Peter’s abandoned straw. She made a face, “Oh, ok… that is sweet.”

Peter didn’t meet her eyes, but he waved his hand and made a face that very much said ‘told-you-so’.

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It didn’t look like anyone had been in the lab since Eleven closed the portal. The bodies had been cleaned up, no doubt by the military coverup team, but the broken glass in the screened in room surrounding the old portal was still strewn about the floor. Hopper’s gun Bob had left in the control room was still on the desk. There were even still spatters of blood every few feet along the walls and stains from dried up blood on the floors.

“So,” Robin murmured quietly to (Y/n), “This is what Round 2 looked like? Man I am so glad I just had the Russians.”

“It doesn’t look like he’s here either. Doesn’t even look like he’s been here at all. There’s no portal,” Will assessed, turning back to the room.

“Fuck!” Mike turned, kicking a wall. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

He wasn’t at his old home. He wasn’t at the lab. He wasn’t at any of the places he’d opened portals that they knew about. (Y/n) was at a loss. There wasn’t anywhere else to look.

He must be hiding, hiding somewhere completely random with absolutely no connection to him. It was the logical thing to do if he didn’t want to be found, but it just didn’t make sense. Sure, Eleven said 001 was a creature completely void of any emotion, set to the singular purpose of restoring order to the world by ridding it of humanity.

But (Y/n) knew that wasn’t true. Hell, the Party should’ve known that wasn’t true. 001 had slaughtered an entire lab in an instant he was so blinded by rage, not even giving them the option to join them that he’d given Eleven. When he became Vecna and was sent to the Upside Down, the first place they knew he’d gone was home. Max had seen the disassembled pieces of the Creel house in Vecna’s inner hideout in the Upside Down. And Henry had talked to Nancy about her visit to his father, about how he’d vengefully plotted his demise.

Even the Peter (Y/n) knew was riddled with emotions, most of them negative, but still they were there. Even when he was putting on a neutral face, she always knew he detested humanity. He hated his job. He…

He’d teased her about her milkshakes, about how much she talked, about high school, about her brother. He’d…

(Y/n) bolted for the door. “Steve, get the keys! I know where he went!” She shouted.

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“So why don’t you ever sit with them?” (Y/n) asked, nodding with her chin over Peter’s shoulder to the lab coats at the table behind him.

They weren’t literally wearing lab coats, but in her mind everyone who worked in a lab was supposed to be wearing a coat. So that’s what she called them. In actuality, they were all dressed almost exactly the same as Peter.

“I mean, I know you hate them, but even you have to get lonely sometimes.”

Peter picked up another fry and put it in his mouth, avoiding her question.

“There must be someone tolerable enough to eat lunch with.”

“I eat with you.” Peter told her, “Do I need someone else?”

(Y/n) felt her cheeks turn a little bit pink, and she tried to swallow it down. “Well no, but you must have friends. Someone at the lab? Or someone from when you were a kid? I know you were homeschooled, but still. Everyone needs friends.”

Peter snorted, and (Y/n) wasn’t sure if it was at the idea of him needing someone or at the idea of having a friend. “Well, I regret to inform you that I just have you.”

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There was a portal, up against the wall of the diner, behind the counter right where she used to sit when she would talk to Peter.

“Dead on, (Y/n).” Steve patted her shoulder, joking, “He must’ve really liked the eggs.”

Grilled chicken with a side of fries and a coffee. Always the same food; didn’t matter what meal it was. (Y/n) didn’t bother to voice that though.

“It’s one of the basketball players,” Dustin pointed out.

A pair of broken, twisted out of shape, legs were sticking out from behind one of the couches the kids had dragged into Benny’s after it was deserted.

“It’s bigger…” Eleven murmured, taking a step forward towards the portal.

Mike caught her arm, pulling her back away from the portal.

(Y/n) didn’t join in, the banter or the analysis. She was staring at the portal.

It was right where she used to sit, literally right there. If Peter had been there, and she’d been in her usual spot talking to him, all she would’ve had to do was tip her stool back, like she always did, and she would’ve fallen straight into the Upside Down.

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“You’re gonna fall over if you keep doing that,” Peter pointed down to the legs of her stool.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and continued to totter back and forth on the back legs of the stool. “Then I’ll knock my head in and get off work early, and you won’t have to put up with me. Sounds like a win for both of us.”

The front legs of the stool slammed to the ground, and (Y/n) stared wide-eyed, mouth ajar, at Peter.

Peter’s eyes had a fire to them she had never seen. There was something there, something behind his usual disinterested, annoyed expression. Something dangerous.

He had a vice-like grip on her wrist, and (Y/n) was positive that she was going to have a ringed bruise around the bone there in the morning from how tightly he held her and how hard he’d jerked her back forward. Her arm was stretched out across the width of the counter, practically touching his chest he’d jerked her so far back.

The shock in her face seemed to douse the fire in his. “Sorry,” Peter cleared his throat, dropping her wrist.

“N-No, it’s okay.” (Y/n) dismissed haphazardly. “Didn’t realize I was worrying you.”

Under his breath, so quietly she wasn’t quite sure she heard him right, Peter whispered, “Of course you worry me.”

“What was that?” (Y/n) asked.

“Nothing, just don’t want you dead on the floor. The hassle of finding another friend is unappealing.”

“Well,” (Y/n) smiled, though not as brightly this time as she usually did, “you can’t get rid of me that easy.”

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Vecna.

A grey body, void of skin and hair and a face. Vine-like Tentacles protruding from his back, whipping back and forth in all directions as if they had a mind of their own, encircling the party, drawing them tighter and tighter into him.

She knew what Eleven told her, knew the story of how Vecna had come to be, but she just couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t see Peter under there, inside the monster.

She couldn’t see Peter batting away Eleven with a vine, without a care in the world for her scream as she went flying back into a deadened tree.

Not Peter, not her Peter.

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“I’m sorry.”

(Y/n) looked up, startled. She hadn’t heard anyone come in. She’d been too absorbed in the math homework splayed across Benny’s counter to notice anything other than the mental image she’d been constructing of going to watch all of her friends graduate knowing she was going to have to repeat senior year.

“Oh Peter, I didn’t hear you come in. Usual?”

Peter sat down in front of her, which was not in his usual seat. “No, I only… I came here to talk, to apologize, and say goodbye.”

“Wait you’re leaving?” (Y/n) dropped the pencil from her hand. “Are they moving you out of the lab? What’s going on?”

“There’s been a… development. And soon my services will no longer be required.” Peter caught the pencil (Y/n) hadn’t heard rolling across the counter and carefully balanced it back in place in front of her textbook.

“W-Well, where are you going?” She tried, and failed miserably, to hide the disappointment from her tone, “I’m sure they have phones there. I’d hate to leave you with no one to pester you every week.”

“I can’t tell you.” Peter smiled, actually smiled. (Y/n) didn’t know if it was unnerving or endearing. It was the first time she’d ever seen him smile. She got the occasional snear, once in a while a smirk if she was particularly amusing that day. But he never smiled, certainly not like this, sad, disheartened, like he was sorry he had to go. “That’s why I came. I know I scared you last time I was here. I… I showed too much of myself, and for that I’m sorry.”

“Peter, you don’t have to apologize.” (Y/n) reached out, hesitantly and took his hand. “Not for being yourself at least.”

“Oh but I do.” Peter dismissed. Turning his hand over, Peter took hers in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Maybe one day you’ll see why.”

And as easily as he slipped into her life, he was gone.

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“Eddie,” She whispered from their hiding place behind the rock, “whatever happens, can you promise me something?”

“What?” Eddie whispered back to her.

(Y/n) hesitated for a moment before she peeled herself away from the rocker’s side. “Hold Steve back.” Turning to Jonathan on her other side, she patted his arm. “And don’t let him and Dustin do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

(Y/n) was usually an anxious, hesitant person. She was an extrovert to the extreme, but she was also very risk averse. She was the type of girl who walked with her eyes on her own feet, and her arms brought in across her chest at all times. She didn’t exude surety or confidence ever. The three words her friends would use to describe her were skittish, excitable, and self-conscious. With Dart, Dustin had taken the lead trapping the monster in the cellar. In the Byer’s home, she had cowered behind Steve, from the demodogs and from Billy. In Starcourt, her brother had practically dragged her down to the Russian base. She had been the one driving the distraction car, all too happy to put distance between herself, Dustin, and Steve and the Mindflayer.

She was not fearless like Nancy or powerful like Eleven or a natural leader like Steve. In the face of monsters and spies and alternate dimensions, she was scared, like any normal person would be.

But this, she’d convinced herself, wasn’t a monster from an alternate dimension. A monster, maybe, but one she knew.

“(Y/n), what are you doing?” Jonathan tried to grab at her arm, but she moved faster, ducking out of the way as she came running out from behind the rock.

Vecna was baring down on Eleven, standing in front of Lucas, Mike, and Dustin with her arms wide as she tried to push him back.

“(Y/n)!” The shout came from somewhere behind her, but she didn’t look back at Steve as she heard him running after her.

“PETER!” She came to a stop under him and shouted up into the air, at the body in the center of the mass of tentacles.

His head turned, slowly, towards her. “Peter, come down here!”

“(Y/n),” he said, seemingly to himself.

She should’ve been afraid, quaking in her boots afraid. But for once, she just couldn’t seem to manage it.

Somewhere in the distance she could hear Steve shouting, shouting at her, at Vecna, at Jonathan and Eddie for holding him back.

“Peter!” She called again.

The tentacles seemed to whip back and forth through the air, splaying themselves out flat on the ground and slowly encircling where she stood, as they lowered their master to the ground.

“NO!” Dustin tried to jump, but without instruction needed Lucas and Mike grabbed him and held him back.

“Peter, you don’t have to do this.”

“Peter is dead. Your friend,” he spat the word, “saw to that.”

“I know she put you here, but I don’t think Peter’s gone.” A tentacle slithered at the back of her heels, and (Y/n) took a step closer to Peter.

“You always had such idealistic notions.” He snarled, “This is what I am. Not Peter, this.” Two of the tentacles whipped out from the circle they had formed around (Y/n), and latched onto her wrists, wrenching her down to her knees.

(Y/n) shook her head, “I don’t believe that.”

The tentacles tightened around her wrist, and she bit back a whimper in disgust as they began wrapping themselves slowly up her arms.

“Society is a scourge (Y/n). The real curse is not me; it’s humanity.” Peter began walking towards her, the tentacles around her dragging her to meet him.

“Then why haven’t you cursed me? Killed me?” (Y/n) asked, “Everyone else has heard the clock ticking, Peter. But here I am.”

The tentacles were wrapping around her chest now, gluing her arms to her sides. Peter, Vecna, did not respond. He stood directly above her now, her bound defenseless at his feet.

“If Peter was dead then you wouldn’t be listening to me right now.”

One of the tentacles wrapped itself around her throat, but she didn’t feel it constricting her at all. It was like it didn’t know what to do.

“Let them go, Peter. They’re just kids. Scared, little kids like Henry used to be.”

Steve was still shouting and struggling with Jonathan and Eddie, and in her peripheral, it seemed Eleven had joined the boys in holding back Dustin.

“I’ll stay.” She whispered loud enough for only Peter to hear. “We’re friends right? I’ll stay here, with you. But you have to let them go. Leave them alone, leave Hawkins alone.”

Peter blinked. “You wouldn’t leave your brother.”

He sounded like Peter, the dark, raspy voice of Vecna was gone. He sounded young again; he sounded whole.

“I’ll leave him to protect him. Peter, you live in this place free of people and the society you hated, and it’s still not enough. You never wanted to be alone.” The grip the tentacles had on her was loosening, and (Y/n) tried to stand. The tentacles melted away as Peter saw what she wanted to do. “I’ll stay here, with you. You won’t be alone… But you have to let them go.”

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“NO!” Dustin shoved forward and began pounding on the wall where to portal used to be. “No!”

His fingers tried digging into the wallpaper, into the wall. It had to be there; it couldn’t be gone. He could get back to her. They could save her.

The rest of the party watched in utter silence as Dustin scratched and clawed at the wall, trying to open the portal back to his sister.

No one tried to stop him, or intervene. They were all too stunned to speak, too stunned to move.

The only noise in the room was Dustin, screaming in despair at the wall, and Steve, quietly sobbing in the corner.

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Note:

Thanks for reading! If you like this, please go read my Eddie Munson fic. I'd really appreciate it! I think it's even better than this one, and it meant a lot to me writing it. I look forward to knowing what you think!

#peter ballard #peter ballard x y/n #peter ballard x reader #vecna x reader #henry creel x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #peter ballard x you #peter ballard fluff #peter ballard angst #peter ballard fanfiction #peter ballard fanfic #vecna fanfiction #henry creel fanfiction #stranger things x you #steve harrington x reader #st4

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svftvluv · 2 years

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can y’all imagine peter with a size kink. like he would slowly sink in y/n and she gasp at the fact that he’s too big and say “i-i can’t! you’re too..big” but he would whisper in her ear “shh, you can take me. you’re doing so well. just a little bit more” and once he’s fully in and she’s gotten comfortable with his size, he’s full on ruining her. his animalistic thrusts making them both even more desperate. “such a good girl. always taking my cock so well.” as he repeatedly hit her g-spot sending her over the edge and fucking her over and over.

#i think i might actually need to write this #peter ballard smut #peter ballard x reader #peter ballard #stranger things smut #001 x reader #001 stranger things #001 #stranger things season 4 #jamie campbell bower #jamie campbell x reader #peter ballard x y/n

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dollyism · 2 years

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riding 001's thigh would be a dream - his hands on your hips, carefully guiding you as you desperately search for friction against the rough fabric of his trousers, whines not hesitating to escape your throat. "not enough..." the words fall from your lips in between quiet moans.

001 smiles at you, his head tilting to the side as he practically drinks in the sight of you - making such a mess of yourself before he's even touched you. he laughs quietly, taking a hand away from your hip and placing two fingers on your chin. he gently tilts your head upwards, leaving you with no choice but to meet his icy gaze. "you're a desperate little thing, aren't you?"

#🎀#001 x reader #001 smut #peter ballard #peter ballard x reader #peter ballard x y/n #peter ballard smut #stranger things #vecna x reader #vecna smut #stranger things smut #henry creel #henry creel x reader #001

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petersprincesss · 2 years

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We Don’t Talk That Way

Me again, hello!

This was requested by both @effrvcfcr and @cassiopeiagalaxies-blog on my One Shots of Peter Ballard post. You can find it and make a request here, or just send me a message!

I am writing all requests, but pls give me time :)

Genre: Smut. So filthy.

Rating: Explicit as fuck. Minors DNI

Tags: praise and degradation, spanking, punishment, fingering, fem reader, pain play ig?

(I recognize that test subjects in the lab do not have hair. I did not consider this until after it was written and I have decided that I don’t care. If that bothers you, please let me know here)

(Proof reading is for dorks)

“God, I’m fucking starving,” you mumbled to yourself, standing up from your seated position in the rainbow room. Dinner wasn’t for another forty five minutes, and you were expected to spend that time enjoying yourself, or at least keeping yourself entertained.

“‘Scuse me,” you spoke as you approached Peter, your favorite orderly, standing diligently by the double doors that led into the hallway, “I’m fucking hungry, can I get a snack or something?”

“Hey, language,” Peter responded, his voice hushed, but firm.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry. Anyways, food?” You snapped your fingers as you spoke, trying to speed things along.

Peter had always favored you a little more than the others. After all, you were closest in age to him out of everyone in the building. You were a few years older than most of the other test subjects in the lab, and he was considerably younger than Dr. Brenner or anyone else with authority. It helped that you were also exactly his type.

“Alright, but we’re gonna have to be careful, okay? Let’s see if the nurse has some graham crackers or something,” Peter sighed. He turned around and pushed the heavy off-white door open, allowing you to train behind him.

“Hand,” he demanded, reaching his open palm out to you.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, “I’m nineteen, give me a break.”

“Rules are rules, do you want a snack or not?”

“Fine,” you huffed, smacking your palm into his.

Peter led you down the hallway next to him. He swung your hand back and forth in stride, and for an unconscious moment, you felt as though you were holding the hand of a lover. Peter’s docile grasp felt like how you’d imagine walking home after a long day during a sunset must feel. You kept your eyesight away from his, praying he wouldn’t notice your heart rate steadily escalating just from having physical contact with him.

“You know, what I’d really like to do is feed Dr. Brenner a fucking knuckle sandwhich,” you muttered, cautiously affirming that no one else was around to hear your crude remarks.

“What did you just say?” Peter asked, stopping dead in his tracks and turning to face you.

“What? I’m just saying, the dude’s a total dickface,” you mumbled, lessening your voice even further.

“Hey, look at me,” Peter snapped, dropping your hand and grasping your chin so you were forced to face him.

His ocean blue eyes dove into yours, and your stomach dropped at the intense eye contact. A switch flipped inside you, and suddenly you felt a hunger for more than just food.

“We don’t talk that way, understand?”

“Yeah, you certainly don’t. At least not when you’re on Dr. Brenner’s leash” you mocked, jerking your chin away from his grip.

Peter inhaled deeply before snatching your wrist, dragging you down the hallway, “Come with me, we’ve got to do something about that attitude.”

“Peter, hey, relax, I was just joking,” you panicked as he approached the door to your living quarters and jerked the handle, yanking you inside behind him.

Once inside, Peter slammed the door behind you and pushed you up against it, holding you pitilessly in place with his hands on your biceps. His face drew in so close to yours that you could feel the air leaving his nose traveling down your neck, cascading onto your chest.

“Did I fucking stutter? We don’t talk that way,” Peter snarled, glaring at you from beneath his knotted eyebrows.

“I- I’m sorry,” you choked out, surprised not only to see him so furious, but to find that it aroused you.

“Are you?” Peter asked deviously.

“Yes, yes I really am!” You pleaded, the tone of your voice bordering dangerously close on lustful moaning.

“I don’t think you are. I think girls like you need to be punished in order for your behavior to change,” Peter grinned at you, expecting you to buckle beneath his expression.

“And how are you going to do that, Mr. Ballard?” You spoke defiantly, turning your nose up at him to challenge his pretentious ego.

Peter smiled at you, any trace of that comforting orderly he masqueraded as fully removed, perhaps discarded as soon as he stepped inside your corridor. He slid away from you, dragging his fingers down your arms tauntingly as he turned around and pulled out a chair tucked into the solitary desk across from your bed. He unclasped his belt as he stared into you, daring you to look away. It became a struggle not to stare as he whipped his belt away from his body and tightened his grip on the buckle and opposite end so that it formed a menacing loop.

Without breaking eye contact, Peter sat down in the chair and motioned you to him with a wave of his hand and a single word, “Come.”

You obeyed him, sauntering over to where he was seated, feeling a heartbeat form between your legs that was pleading for his attention. Once you stood before him, he reached up and snatched a fistfull of your hair, tugging your body down so you were bent over his knee. Your breath hitched as he reached back and grabbed the hem of your hospital gown and began trailing it upwards at a glacial pace.

“You know, Y/N,” Peter thought aloud, “you could be such a good test subject if you only listened.”

His words alone sent electricity up your spine, flowing through your body beneath his touch.

“I’ll listen, I promise,” you whined, your breath catching as you felt the gown slip fully over your hips, leaving you fully exposed to him.

“Save your promises, sweetheart. This is going to hurt.”

Without letting a second slip by, Peter raised his belt and smacked it down on your bare flesh, forcing an unexpected yelp to escape your lips.

“Quiet now. We wouldn’t want anyone else to know what a bad girl you’ve been, would we?” Peter quizzed. Your mind raced to find an answer, but the only thing it came up with was the stinging sensation emanating from the impact and the heat you felt growing not far beneath it.

“Fuck…” you exhaled hoarsly, your breath practically stolen from your lungs.

Peter’s hand twisted itself in your hair and yanked it backwards.

“Language,” he scolded.

“I’m s- sorry. Please,” you began to plead, unsure of what exactly you were even begging for.

“Please what, Y/N?”

Before you could even answer, Peter laid down another swing, his belt cracking as it met your skin. You let out another moan in response, far from a cry for a resolution. With each blow he delivered, your body began whorishly anticipating the next.

“Peter, I-”

He interrupted you again with another smack, clearly not interested in anything you felt the need to express to him.

“Awh, I’m sorry sweetheart. Is the belt too much for you?” He chastised. Peter’s belt dropped to the floor, his buckle clattering to the tile with a metallic clink.

Before you could begin to whimper, Peter smacked you with his bare hand, just low enough that he made a pleasant discovery.

“God… you’re soaked,” Peter remarked, examining his fingertips.

An erotic shame rose in your abdomen and crept out of your mouth with a wanton moan. You squirmed beneath his fingers grazing over your skin, but he reaffirmed his clench on your hair, governing you back under his control.

“Why are you so wet, huh?” Peter asked, his fingers circling around where you needed him most, tracing invisible drawings on your flesh.

“God, Peter, it feels so good, please,” you begged, praying he wouldn’t make you admit your desires aloud.

“Please what? Say it,” he shattered your hopes.

“Please touch me!” You demanded, squeezing your eyes closed with a rigidity that pinched tears out from beneath your lashes.

“This is what you want?” Peter asked, two of his fingers pressing gently against your opening, just shy of how badly you needed him to push.

“Yes, please!” you whined, your hips jolting back into his palm.

“You’re fucking dirtier than I thought,” Peter sighed, sliding into you. You groaned salaciously, your body’s electricity thundering under his manipulation.

Peter reached across your back for your arm, dangling near his feet. He pulled your forearm up and pinned it behind your back, halting you from wiggling away from him. Your opposite arm reached down to the tiled floor, your palm resting on the cool, smooth surface to ground you. Peter plunged in and out of you, setting a pace designed to push you over the edge that was rapidly drawing nearer.

“Thank you, Peter,” you huffed, unsure of what else to say. Gratitude seemed to be the only emotion worth expressing to him.

“What are you thanking me for, slut?” Peter mocked you tonelessly, his momentum never wavering.

“Th- thank you for punishing me,” you managed to squeak out. Your eyes rolled back in your head as if you were incapable of speaking and keeping your eyes open at the same time.

“I knew you’d like being punished,” Peter taunted you, “I can feel you tightening up on me, are you going to cum on my fingers, you whore?”

“Oh God, yes, Peter please!” You whimpered, feeling a wave rise between your legs, drawing the air out of your lungs.

Peter abruptly removed his fingers from you and smacked your exposed flesh again, denying you the release your body so feverishly craved.

“I don’t think so,” he growled. Peter yanked your hair sternly, pulling you up to a seated position on his lap.

Peter’s face lined up next to yours, his lips grazing your ear through your messy strands of hair, “You can cum when you learn to behave.”

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arachine · 2 years

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— 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?: 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬

+ 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝: multiple stranger things men

+ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mature

+ 𝐜𝐰: explicit sexual content

+ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: me when i’m reposting this for the 5th time

+ part one can be found here !

+ 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: the small font is a stylistic choice that is only used for headcanons because they’re usually very short reads!

peter “the 001 for you” ballard

↻ length: crazy men have big dicks. this is a known—a fact. it cannot and will not be debated. why do some of you keep going back to your crazy exes? surely not because of their personalities…but i digress. peter doesn’t even know he’s got a dick of gold swinging in his pants. like he’s aware of its presence, but he never really sat down and thought ‘damn, i’ve gotta really big dick’—probably because he’s too distracted most of the time planning the demise of a bunch of little kids more than half of his age.

coming in at 6 inches flaccid, and roughly 7.4 inches erect, this definitely makes peter the second biggest on the list.

↻ width: he doesn’t really strike me as someone who’s gotta thick cock. i’d like to think it’s on the skinnier side, mostly because he’s very tall and lanky.

↻ color: peter is so pale, it’s literally just a pink stick.

extra:

↻ groomed: hmmm… a part of me wants to say yes. i think he’d groom it down probably for comfort. i can imagine that it’d get very itchy in those white orderly jumpsuits, and so, i feel like he’d groom it down in that sense. he just strikes me as someone who’s very calculated and precise with everything that they do, so having an itch down there would be annoying and he hates to be annoyed.

↻ curved: unfortunately, no :(

↻ veins: yes, plenty. they start to branch down from his pelvic region, all the way to his dick. they wrap around so prettily and when he gets hard, it looks kinda mean and angry!

↻ how he uses it: peter likes to fuck you from the back, with the upper half of your body smooshed down into a hard surface, and your head forced down flat with the palm of his hand. it’s the only position he enjoys that doesn’t involve intimacy. but most of all, he likes it down your throat. because in this position, you’re on your knees, with your head tilted up at him, and tears streaming down your eyes like ribbons.

it gets him so unbelievably hard because he’s the one with all of the control. you sit there and take him—all of him—down your throat because you like it. and he knows you like it too. he knows that you get a rush when he pushes it so far down that you can’t breathe, and he knows you like it when he forces all of his load down your mouth. so, that’s why this is his favorite position. because from up here? he’s a god, and you’re just some bitch that prays to his dick like it’s sunday service.

dmitri “got you walking side to side” antonov or, better known as, enzo

↻ length: if i speak…

ok, listen. i’ve heard some things about those russian men, i’ve seen some things…and i’d like to bet that enzo is one of them. there’s just something in the atmosphere down there, something in the air…something that i think we (the people) should investigate because why and what is causing this big dick phenomenon? anyway, enzo is 6.7 inches flaccid and 8 inches hard. i don’t make the rules, i listen to the voices. and right now they’re telling me to relay the message and i am.

↻ width: baybeee, let me tell you something. his is thick. like, really thick. you just better hope he has the patience to stretch you open first, because if not…well, good luck soldier.

↻ color: i could say pink—but i won’t. i am standing on this hill when i say his cock is tanned and his tip is brown or brown adjacent. it’s somewhere in the brown family okay, just…just trust me on this one. i know russia is cold as fuck but he ain’t that damn pale, so i am not budging with my answer.

extra:

↻ groomed: no. just full, unadulterated man bush over here. how we like it. the girls that get it, get. and the girls that don’t, don’t.

↻ curved: uhm, duh. he is a founding father of the captain hook club!

↻ veins: vein wonderland, just so many of ��em.

↻ how he uses it: i don’t think it matters what position, you’re getting fucked and you’re getting fucked good. just know you’ll be directionally challenged by the end of it. suddenly, determining left from right, and up from down becomes a challenge tad too difficult.

argyle “let me smoke you out” [redacted] …because he wasn’t given a last name. them damn duffer brothers fucking up my list!

↻ length: i’d like to say his dick is as long as his gorgeous hair (which i’m very jealous of), but it isn’t. i’d like to sit here and tell you that the man who carried season four with jokes has a 12 incher, but i can’t (for i fear the masses will crucify me at the stake). but in all seriousness, argyle has the perfect cock. it’s not intimidatingly large like peter or enzo’s, but it’s not too small either.

argyle rests at a smooth 4.8 inches flaccid and a good 6 inches erect. and whatever he lacks in length—which isn’t much because 6 is perfect for some girlies—he makes up for in girth.

↻ width: i love me some stout men, and when i look at argyle, i just see a man with a fat cock and balls. big fat balls. big nuts. like i want the weight of his dick to be so powerful that it gives me a black eye…but, maybe that’s just me.

↻ color: he has such a pretty complexion, so i just know that it flows from a nice tanned color, into a pretty brown or mauve-y color at the tip.

extra:

↻ groomed: no, he doesn’t have time for that. he only has enough time in the world to roll his blunts and get high. everything else be damned. the male-bush agenda is going strong and we can’t stop now!

↻ curved: to the left, and he really knows how to use it. i know i said before that he didn’t have much time for anything other than rolling blunts, but i lied. he’s definitely got the time to learn how to make a woman cum.

↻ veins: just one that stretches from the side of his cock to the underside of his shaft…

↻ how he uses it: oh, god. i just know he likes a good ol’ mating press. he likes squishing you down into the bed, or the back of his van and getting all deep in your cunt. he says it’s because he’s ‘so high’ and that ‘he’s tired’ every time he flops down on your like that, but you know it’s because he loves seeing you folded like a pretzel beneath him. nothing beats the expression you wear when he hits that spot you like. the one that gets your toes curling, and your legs shaking, and leaves your head all dizzy. he could fuck you like that forever and it still would always feel like the first time.

jonathan “i have a degree in stalking” byers

↻ length: i don’t care for jonathan but i feel like he’s got something a little lethal down there…like not crazy big but he’s definitely working with something, so maybe that’s why nance ignored all the stalking. what if…what if i said he’s got like something close to a 7 incher? like 6.5-6.7? i don’t know… i don’t know but them creepy guys be having good dick. exhibit a: joe goldberg. it must be some sort of requirement…

↻ width: hmm, he leans more on the skinnier side so i don’t think he’d be thick.

↻ color: scarily pink, like raw meat but progressively reddens when aroused.

extra:

↻ groomed: jonathan doesn’t take that much pride in his appearance, and until nance, he probably didn’t do too much grooming. but now he keeps it fairly shaved down.

↻ curved: almost as straight as will, but in other words, yes. it’s got some curve too it but not enough to be a part of the captain hook committee, unfortunately.

↻ veins: two prominent ones that form a ‘y’ shape down his shaft

↻ how he uses it: the real question is how long can he use it? because i don’t think that boy’s got any self restraint. he probably finishes really quickly, but i kinda see him having a lot of stamina—but not in the way you think. i feel like he’d prefer having you ride him, because in this position, he gets to play with your tits and admire your body like the pathetic man he is, but as soon as he cums, his dick is ready to go again before he is. it’s just him lying there, totally overstimulated, and you riding him, milking him for all he’s worth. so, yeah, i’d say he’s not so much as using his own dick, but you using him.

#peter ballard x reader #peter ballard x reader smut #peter ballard smut #peter ballard x you #peter ballard x you smut #peter ballard x y/n #peter ballard x y/n smut #dmitri antonov smut #dmitri antonov x reader smut #dmitri antonov x reader #argyle smut #jonathan byers smut #jonathan byers x reader smut #stranger things x reader smut #stranger things smut

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honeybadgerwritings · 2 years

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Every Step You Take

Pairing: Dark!Peter Ballard x Afab Fem!Reader - Dark!001 x Afab Fem!Reader

Requested: Hi there! First I wanted to express how in love I am with your work! I honestly think you're an amazing writer and that your works are bliss istg! ♡ I just read that you're closing your requests and I wanted to see if I could leave one, if you don't wanna answer it it's okay I understand ♡I wanted to request a Peter Ballard x fem reader (if you want the reader can be one of Brenner's kids but ofc the reader's of age) with the prompts 1, 9 in fluff, 22 and 23 in smut, 19 and 25 in angst, all from him and in the order you want!

Summary: Chaos erupts in Hawkins lab. What’s happens when your close friend Peter is the reason why?

Warnings: Heavy Mentions of Blood, Gore, Violence, Death, Manipulation, Claustrophobia, Panic Attacks, Smut, Age-Gap, Oral (Fem Receiving), Fingering, Edging If You Squint.

Please Please Please let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: The reader is 18+ in this fic. If I had to give her an actual age I would say roughly 21-22. Peter is roughly 28-29. Any sexual acts are fully consensual. This is also tagged as Dark!Peter, and while that is true, it’s mostly just regular Peter, because he himself is a walking red flag, and his character is already very dark. Just wanted to make that known.

Prompts:

1. “I want you by my side.”

9. “Just trust me alright?”

19. “I know you’re mad at me, but I’m only doing this to protect you.”

22. “So good for me, look at how much you came.”

23. “Where did this attitude come from hm?”

25. “Please don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”

This is not yet edited, I will get to it ASAP

———————

⚠️ This fic is 18+ so minors DNI ⚠️

Please read the Author’s Note and Warnings above before continuing!!! Thank you!

———————

Chaos.

If there’s one word you could pick to describe the situation you’re currently in, that would be the word to choose.

Everything around you is in utter chaos.

Alarms are blaring, the fluorescent lights over head are flickering, screaming echoes from somewhere throughout the building, and everyone is tumbling past you. It’s all a blur of white uniforms and clicking heels as someone shoves you out of their way. They’re all more concerned for their own safety than yours, as you stand there, utterly clueless, in your hospital gown.

This doesn’t upset you though. In all honesty you’re not really worried about yourself either; If it comes down to it, you’d use your powers for protection. The only thing you’re actually worried about right now is finding him.

Finding Peter.

Peter is your….friend? Companion? You’re not really sure to be honest. All you know is that the two of you had grown close in recent months, bonding over shared experiences with loneliness. You both found solitude in each other, and he made sure you knew that you could always come to him for help, advice, or comfort.

And you did, almost every day in fact.

Being so much older than all of the kids easily made you an outcast amongst them. They didn’t disrespect you at all, in fact they’re all borderline terrified of you, but that didn’t stop the exclusion. Papa never really acknowledged you anymore, other than when he needed to run some tests, and all of the workers treated you like you were five. You were so lonely and had no one to talk to for a long time, spending most nights wandering the halls instead of being alone with your thoughts in your room.

It wasn’t until you had first bumped into him in the hall about a year ago that you even knew of his presence. He’d been so kind and gentle with you that day, helping you up from the ground and guiding you back to your room.

“How did you even manage to sneak out?” He’d asked, and you’d been forced to meekly explain that after many freak outs, Papa instructed workers to leave your door open a crack every night.

You’re insanely claustrophobic, and your room really doesn’t help. You don’t have control over the lights, so it’s almost always dark in there, and it’s such a small, confined space that it makes it hard for you to breathe.

You’d expected him to roll his eyes and scoff like every other person who’d heard the story, but he didn’t. He threw his head back with a laugh, joking that you must have caused a lot of trouble to get Papa to agree to something like that.

He wasn’t far off, but you didn’t feel like going into detail.

He’d guided you into your room, and waited for you to get situated in bed before wishing you goodnight with a wink, and leaving the door open a crack.

The whole interaction left you both flustered and confused, wondering why this absolute stranger had such an effect on you, and why he spoke to you with kindness instead of authority like everyone else did.

You began to notice his presence more often after that. He would always offer to play chess with you in the rainbow room if you seemed bored, sometimes he’d be the one to deliver lunch and dinner to your room, and on occasion he would stay and chat with you for a few minutes.

“On occasion” quickly turned into most times, and “a few minutes” turned into an hour or two. He was easy to befriend, an you both had plenty in common. He made you feel safe, and warm, and dare you say even loved. He’d promised to always be there for you and protect you, and he’d kept that promise. Any time you were threatened with a punishment or put in harms way by another child, he would stick up for you, keep you safe.

So you can’t help but feel like it’s your turn.

Gunshots ring out somewhere in the distance, and you flinch as the screaming around you becomes louder. Another person bumps your shoulder, and this time you’re knocked onto your ass. You groan, covering your head with your arms as you attempt to protect yourself from getting trampled. You’re surrounded by a stampede of incompetent assholes who’ve bossed you around your whole life, and honestly you’re starting to feel more annoyed than scared.

Finally after a few moments the screaming subsides, and you’re left alone in an empty hallway, sitting in the middle of the floor. You shake your head, beginning to pull your aching body up from the ground, until you pause. You hear footsteps coming from the hallway to your right.

You take a moment to listen, registering their movement. They’re not quick paced, scattered, or scared like everyone else. These ones are calm, collected, menacing even. And of course, they’re headed right towards you.

You barely have any time to register this observation before the person rounds the corner in front of you. You make eye contact with them and the tense feeling in your chest dissipates, your shoulders immediately relaxing with a sigh. It’s just Peter.

For a second, he has a wild, crazy look in his eyes, but then it flickers to confusion with furrowed brows, then fear. He’s tense, more tense than you’ve ever seen him. “What are you doing out here?” He sounds frantic, like he didn’t expect to see you here, in this building, that you’ve never left.

“Uhh-” you’re cut off as he lifts you up from the ground by your arm. You yelp, but not in pain, more in surprise than anything as he half escorts, half drags you down the hallway with him. “You’re supposed to be in your room.” He sounds like he’s scolding you.

“I was, until I heard gunshots and screaming. They don’t latch my door Peter, you know that-” you remember the chaos that had surrounded you moments ago, “Hey what’s going on?” He doesn’t respond, whipping his head around as if he’s looking for something, “Peter.” You try again, desperately waiting for an answer.

He only grunts in response, leaving your question unanswered once again. You quickly become fed up, as he drags you down empty hallway after empty hallway. Eventually you pull your arm from his grasp in annoyance, backing away from him. He spins to face you, attempting to snatch your arm but you step back, dodging him.

“Stop it! What the hell is the matter with you? What’s going on?”

He tries to grab your arm again, failing.

“Peter!”

“I’m trying to protect you!” He finally spits out, and your eyebrows furrow, bottom lip beginning to tremble at his tone.

“Protect me from what? Peter, please, you’re scaring me. What’s happening?” His eyes soften significantly as your face falls, and he steps closer to you, lacing his fingers through yours. His thumb delicately strokes the back of your hand and you sniffle, absolutely lost.

“I know, I know you’re scared. But I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He glances around once again as if to make sure the coast is clear, before looking back down at you, “Just trust me alright?”

You shouldn’t have nodded as quickly as you did. You should have held out a little longer, pestered him with more questions, and refused to go with him until he provided you with the answers that you so desperately wanted. But this was Peter, he’d never given you a reason not to trust him, so how could you start now?

“Good girl.” He squeezes your hand in response before turning on his heel, and dragging you with him. You have very little time to process the affect those words have on you before you slam into his back. He’d stopped abruptly, listening for something. You can’t help but listen too, hearing many sets of footsteps heading down the hall in your direction.

“Shit.” He curses, before quickly pulling you into a room off to the right. He shuts the door behind him, leaving the two of you in almost pitch black, the only lighting coming from the small glass panel on the door. You stay completely silent as the footsteps rush past you. In all honesty they sound like guards. But why would you being hiding from the guards?

He turns to you once they pass, gripping your wrists firmly in his hands to gather your full attention. “I need you to listen to me,” he speaks in a hushed tone and you nod, “I’m going to go back out.”

Your brows feel like they’ve just been permanently furrowed in confusion, because why in the actual fuck would he want to go back out there? You feel yourself shaking your head before he can even finish his explanation.

“No…no you can’t Peter.” He releases your wrists, gently cupping your face in his hands.

“I’m going to go back out there,” he repeats slowly, “and you’re going to stay here.” You almost burst out laughing at that. You? Stay here? Absolutely not.

“No.” You shake your head, “No way- not happening. At least let me go with you, I can protect you!” You try to reason and he chuckles, like you had just said something so unbelievably adorable and he found it endearing.

“I appreciate the thought darling but I don’t need you putting yourself in harms way. I can protect myself.” You cross your arm’s defiantly, twisting your head out of his grip.

“Well if you leave, I’m sure as hell not staying-” you glance around, trying to figure out exactly where the two of you are. It looks like another bedroom, which is the last place you want to stay, and he must know that, “-in here!”

He sighs, backing away from you and towards the door. “Please don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”

You’re staring to become angry now. Angry that he thinks he can keep you in here. Angry that he thinks that this situation is more difficult for him than it is for you. Angry that he’s not giving you any information other than the fact that you “need to trust him.”

“If you leave this room I’m coming with you, end of story. Now get out of my way.” You huff, wishing he would stop trying to boss you around. You try to push past him to get to the door but he doesn’t budge. You try again and still, nothing. With the way he’s looking at you he almost seems amused, and that pisses you off.

You extend your arm, ready to shove him to the side with your powers, but before you’re even given the chance, you’re slammed up against the wall, being held up by nothing but air. It knocks the wind out of you and you wheeze, looking up at him in shock.

What the fuck?

“Do not-” he looks irritated, the wild look in his eyes returning as he steps towards you, fingers reaching out to firmly grasp your chin, “Do not ever use your powers on me. Do you understand?” Your eyes widen and you nod frantically, regretting even thinking about it. This is not the Peter you know, and you’re afraid to set him off even further. So many questions run through your head, unable to process them all at once.

Is he just like you? How is he doing this? Is he going to hurt you? Are you going to be left here alone? What if-

He watches you carefully as you tremble under his touch, knowing that your brain must be moving a mile a minute. The last thing he wanted to do was reveal his powers to you like this, but he has no other choice. If you aren’t going to listen, he’s going to have to force you to. His hand slips from your chin to cradle your cheek, and you whimper in fear.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles apologetically, “I’m sorry but you give me no choice. I’m not letting you out there.” He slowly steps away from you, “I need to keep you safe.” He makes his way towards the door and your eyes widen.

“No- Peter don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare!” You’re angry, but your voice comes out frantic and scared. You attempt to flail your limbs in an effort to escape, but to no avail.

He pauses in the doorway for a moment, contemplating letting you come with him, but that thought quickly diminishes and he shakes his head. He knows you’d be even more upset if you knew what he’s about to do. He glances at you over his shoulder, “I’ll be back, I promise.”

The door shuts behind him and you drop to the ground, hard. Your knees smack on the tile, but you pay no mind as you scramble up towards the door. You try to tug on the handle but it doesn’t budge, as expected. You don’t even try to use your powers to open it, you know it won’t work, it never does. You pound your fists on the steel door, beginning to panic.

“No… no no no Peter please! Please don’t leave me here! I-I can’t- it’s dark and- I can’t do it- please!” Thankfully he’s still there, watching you with sad eyes through the glass panel.

“I know you’re mad at me, but I’m only doing this to protect you.”

You open your mouth to beg him again, but you’re cut off by the abrupt sound of yelling and gunshots. And just like that he’s gone from your view. You cry out, slamming your fists against the door until they’re bruised and bloody.

There’s no way. There’s no way any of this is actually happening right now. You pinch yourself, attempting to will the screams and gunshots away by waking up, but you don’t. This isn’t a dream, if anything it’s a living waking nightmare and you’re trapped in it.

Literally.

You bang on the door in one last attempt to be let out, before collapsing onto the floor in a heap of panic. It’s so loud, everything is so loud and the room is so small and you can’t fucking breathe. You find yourself scrambling back into the corner by the bed, covering your ears with your hands.

It feels like the room is closing in on you inch by inch, like you’re about to get crushed between the walls while the war outside rages on.

But then it stops. It all stops.

Not your panic, god no. If only it could be that easy, but you do hold your breath as everything outside the door— no everything in the facility stills. The screams have stopped, the echoing of bullets have faded, and all that’s left the sounds of your wheezing. You want to get up and peek outside the door but your legs aren’t exactly working right now.

But the silence must be a good thing right? Surely whatever caused the disturbance is gone?

All you can do is take deep breaths and hope that someone will find you soon, someone will come to your rescue and let you out of this godforsaken room. Those hopes however, are soon crushed as your eyes trail under the door, watching as blood begins to slowly seep under the crack.

Oh god.

Everything stopped,

Because everyone is dead.

Everyone is dead and nobody is ever going to know that you’re trapped in here. You’re going to be locked in this room forever, and nobody is ever going to find you. And Peter- Oh god what if he’s dead too?

A broken sob leaves your lips as you curl in on yourself, whole body trembling. You’re spiraling completely out of control, you can feel your heart hammering in your chest, against your ribs, in your throat, in your head. You can feel it in your ears, it doesn’t matter if you cover them, it doesn’t matter how hard you clench your jaw and push your hands against your ears, you can hear it.

Your breaths are quick, sharp— never really getting enough air. Your lungs burn. You feel dizzy. Fear clings to your chest, to your teeth, to your hands. You don’t even register the loud, broken cries that leave your mouth. Surely nobody will hear them anyway, what do you care?

Your vision blurs, fluttered and unfocused. Soon enough there are tears in your eyes, in your nose, in your throat. You’re crying, terrified, pulling the collar of your gown away from your skin, trying to get enough air in.

That’s how Peter finds you. He approaches the door carefully, wincing as he sees the body pressed up against the door, and hears your desperate cries from inside. He knows you’re claustrophobic, and he hated every second that he had to leave you in there, but once again, he had no choice.

He kicks the body of the guard away in disgust, before slowly pulling open the door. Light finally shines into the room, but you don’t even notice, too focused on trying not to pass out. He spots your trembling body in the corner, curled into the fetal position as you claw at your gown, trying to breathe properly.

“Oh sweetheart…” he sighs, stepping over the trail of blood leading into the room. Any other person would likely start panicking themselves after witnessing your state, but Peter has dealt with this a couple times before.

There was one time another orderly had gotten angry with you, and locked you in your room for the night. When Peter had found you the next morning, everything had been broken and likely thrown across the room. You had sat in the middle of it all in anguish, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks.

You hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep that night. He’d held you in his arms for roughly an hour that day, gently calming you down until you passed out from pure exhaustion. Peter was so angry. So angry that he wanted to kill that orderly with his bare hands for what he’d done to you.

Who could’ve known that it would eventually happen?

He gently kneels down in front of you, staying a few feet back as to not make you feel trapped. His eyes scan over your trembling form and he feels guilt wrack through his whole body. He begins to speak softly, trying to verbally pull you from your panic until you’re calm enough to be held,

“I know, I know you’re scared baby, but I’m here. Just breath and listen to my voice, I’m right here.“

Your face twists into one of confusion when you hear a voice. At first you think you’re imagining it, but it doesn’t go away. It’s muffled and far away, but then it gets louder, closer. In fact it’s beginning to sound like-

“You’re okay sweetheart.”

You snap your head up, tear-blurred eyes searching for the culprit like a deer in headlights, until they finally rest on the figure in front of you,

“P-Peter?” You choke out. It hardly sounds like your voice at all, it’s strangled and raw and it’s forced out between rapid breaths. He tries to hide the way he winces, providing you with a small smile instead, though you can hardly see it through your tears.

“It’s me darling.”

Normally he would have to ask you if you want to be held, but this time you don’t even give him the chance to. You quickly scramble up from your spot on the ground, before hurling yourself into his arms with a broken cry. Right now you don’t even care that he’s the reason you’re so distraught, you’re just glad that he’s okay.

He’s quick to wrap his body around yours, sitting against the wall and cradling you against him. You bury your face in the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, muffling your heartbreaking sobs, “I didn’t- I couldn’t- I thought you were d-de-”

He shushes you gently, cradling the back of your head as you weep into his neck. His other hand is placed on your back, his fingers slowly gliding up and down your spine.

“I’m okay, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.” He turns, placing a kiss in your hair, “I need you to take some deep breaths for me though okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

You try your best to follow his instructions, struggling for the first few minutes, but he’s patient with you. He so patient with you, in fact, that he lets your tears and snot stain his shirt. Though in hindsight that’s not saying much, considering it’s already covered in blood.

You finally manage to suck in a breath, and he praises you, continuing to guide you through it until your breathing is finally back on track. Your tears haven’t quite subsided yet as you pull back from his grip to face him, hands resting around his neck.

“W-why did you leave me?” You sniffle, “You know I can’t- I hate-” you can’t even get the words out before another sob wracks through your body.

“Shhh…” He pulls you back towards him, cradling your face in his hands as he rests his forehead against yours, “I know baby, I know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to leave you here, but I had no other choice.” He grips your chin gently, lifting your head up so your eyes meet his, “You’re the most important thing in the world to me. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.”

You sniffle, nodding your head as you attempt to understand his reasoning, still not really understanding why he left in the first place. “I-I was so scared. I didn’t know if you were hurt…I-I thought I was gonna be stuck in here.” He’s shaking his head before you can even finish, wiping the tears from your face with the pads of his thumbs. He gently grasps one of your wrists, guiding your hand to his chest, placing it over his heart,

“You feel that?” He asks, and you nod, feeling the gentle thump of his heart beating against his chest. It’s calm, collected, like he knows everything is going to be fine, “I’m alright. I promise. I would never leave you alone if I didn’t think I would be okay.”

You nod again, sniffling as he continues to hold your hand in his, examining it. He frowns, seeing how beaten and battered it is, wasting no time to grab the other one, examining that one as well. He tuts, looking up at you in pity,

“You poor thing-” he lifts your hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on each knuckle, before doing the same with the other one. Your heart flutters in your chest as he does. How he manages to be so calm and soft with you in a moment like this will forever baffle you. He’s always been like this with you, when nobody else was. He’s so sweet, and kind, and gentle, and-

He’s covered in blood.

You’re pushing away from him before he can even try to stop you. Your scramble up from the floor, backing yourself against the opposite wall.

“Whose blood is that?”

He stands, hands outstretched like he’s trying not to frighten a baby deer. “Darling-”

“Peter…whose blood is that?” You ask again, a frightened edge to your tone. He doesn’t answer you.

“Is that why you- you-” your breathing picks up again as you put two and two together, “Is that why you locked me in here? Did you do all this?”

“I did what I had to…” he confesses, carefully taking a step towards you.

“What you had to?!” You let out a hysterical laugh, “I don’t understand I-” you’re trembling again, thinking about all of the screams and the bodies that had been pushing past you not even 30 minutes ago. Are they all dead? Did they all spend the last few seconds of their life fearing the man in front of you? And what about-

“Oh my god Peter, the kids…”

“The kids are fine. They’re all safe.” He’s lying through his teeth, but he has to. If he doesn’t he’s going to lose you completely. You aren’t as strong as he is, you’re softer, more fragile. He has to take that into consideration, otherwise you’ll never forgive him, “They’re all safe in the rainbow room. I made sure of it.”

“But why?” You hiccup, “Why do all this? Why kill everyone?”

He clenches his jaw, wondering if you’re really ready to know. Although, with everything else going on, he figures it’s as good of a time as any. He reaches down, slowly rolling up the sleeve of his perfectly cuffed shirt. You squint your eyes to see what he could possibly be trying to show you and- oh my god.

Your face contorts into shock and you take a step closer to him, making sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. You furrow your brows, glancing back and forth between it and your own tattoo, lifting your arm to compare them. Sure enough, his 001 perfectly matches the shape and size of the 002 on your wrist.

He watches you carefully, gauging your reaction. “That’s… not possible.” You whisper, and his eyebrow raises in slight amusement.

“No?”

You shake your head, so unbelievably confused. Your whole world- everything you’ve ever known has come crashing down on you in the last hour and you can feel your brain malfunctioning.

“Papa said-”

“That 001 isn’t real? That I don’t exist? That you’re the original?” It almost sounds like he’s taunting you, but when you look up he just looks sad, like he’s disappointed to be telling you this. “I’ve always been here, locked away in this godforsaken place. And I’ll be the first to tell you that I’m no story, I am very much real.”

You’re at a loss for words, unsure of how to process this new information.

“I was once free you know,” you look up at him, curious as to what he means, “I had a life outside of this place, a home. But then he took me away. He took me away from all of it when I was only a child.” He spits, beginning to circle you, as if he’s the predator and you’re his prey.

“He used me, tested on me; he didn’t care how much it would hurt.” You assume he’s talking about Papa. It isn’t news to you that he’s selfish, backstabbing man. “But then, he decided one of me wasn’t enough. He tried to copy me, clone me. And just like that, you were born. And eventually, there were seventeen others, who were all treated with respect- no painful tests, no beatings, no going hungry… and I was locked away. Forced to keep my identity a secret for so many years while…all the little brats got everything they ever needed.”

You flinch at his tone, and he stops behind you. You can feel his gaze eyeing you up and down, unsure if he’s upset with you or not. You’re startled when you feel his hand slip around you, cradling the side of your face, and turning your head to look at him over your shoulder. It’s an awkward position, but the intensity in his eyes is back, and you can’t force yourself to fight him.

“Except for you,” He hums, pressing his body lightly against yours. You feel a heat rise to your cheeks, not being used to this level of closeness with him, “You know what it’s like to be isolated, excluded, unappreciated… you’re different from them. You always have been.” You feel your eyes slowly slipping closed, not from exhaustion, more so letting yourself relax into him as he speaks, taking in every word.

“You’re so special, and much more powerful than the rest of them. Almost as powerful as me, you just haven’t realized it yet.” You don’t really believe it, but it feels nice to hear. It feels nice to finally have someone notice and appreciate you after all this time.

“I did this so I can be free again… so we can be free.” Your eyes peel open once more, confusion written all over your face. You? Free? That’s something you’ve never really known.

“Me?” You whisper timidly and he nods. You frown, spinning to face him, “You mean… we’re leaving?”

He nods again, a soft knowing smile resting on his face. Of course leaving would be scary for you. You’ve lived your entire life here, and now you’re being asked to leave it all behind for him. “I want you by my side.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, processing all of this. You’d never seen the outside world before, and frankly you’ve never given it much thought at all. But with Peter it couldn’t be so bad right?

“I-I don’t know if-”

He steps even closer, pressing his body completely against yours, and you’re cut off by your own surprised gasp as you look up at him. He smirks, seemingly knowing the affect he has on you.

“Oh but there’s so many things you’re missing out on sweetheart. So many things you’d never be allowed to experience here.” You gulp, widening eyes never leaving his as you chew on your bottom lip. Curiosity finally gets the better of you and you gather the courage to ask,

“Like what?”

His gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips as he leans down, gently cupping your cheek in his hand, “Like this,” he mumbles, before pressing his soft lips against yours. You can’t help but squeak in surprise as he kisses you, not really knowing what’s happening. He chuckles against your lips, wrapping his other hand around your waist, “Just follow my lead.”

You try you best to keep up, slowly beginning to get the hang of it. You’re loving the feeling of his lips on yours, never wanting it to end. You clench your fists a few times, not really knowing what to do with them, and he takes notice, gently guiding them up and around his neck.

His lips are soft and pillowy against your own, and a warm fuzzy feeling grows in your chest as he tugs you impossibly closer to him. He gently bites down on your bottom lip, soothing it with his tongue before pulling away, resting his forehead against yours while the two of you catch your breath.

It isn’t until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed that you notice he’s moved the two of you backwards, and you fall onto the mattress.

He slowly crawls on top of you, placing kisses all over your face, your lips, cheeks, forehead, nose… and you’re a giggling mess underneath him. He slowly makes his way down your neck and to your collarbone, tugging on the collar of your gown to gain access.

“Mmm feels- feels so good Peter.” You don’t even think to stop the moans and whimpers that escape your lips while he gently suckles and bites your skin.

“Such pretty noises baby… and they’re all for me? What a sweet little thing you are.” He hums against your skin. Your eyes roll back, hips bucking up involuntarily at his words, and he cooes at you, “You like that hm? You like when I praise you? Such a good girl aren’t you?” You nod frantically, a whine leaving your lips. You don’t really know why you like it, or why you’re reacting like this, but you do know that you don’t want it to stop. You don’t want any of this to stop, no matter where it goes.

His hands slide down your body as he marks up the delicate skin of your neck, groping, feeling every inch of your gorgeous body. His fingertips finally reach the hem of your gown and he lifts his lips from your skin, examining the already fucked-out look on your face.

“Do you want me to take this off of you sweetheart?” He asks, gently tugging on the article of clothing. You look up at him, eyes blown out as you try to come up with a response, “What happens if you do?” You ask timidly.

He smirks, leaning down to peck a kiss against your cheek, “Well, then I’ll get to make you feel good.”

You squint at him, “But you’re already making me feel good?” You say, unsure if you meant for it to be a question or not. He chuckles at your naivety, touching his forehead to yours and pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, “Mmm but I can make you feel so much better than this. Is that what you want baby?”

You don’t even waste a second, nodding your head frantically, wanting nothing more than for him to give you pleasure. However he’s grabbing your chin lightly before anything else,

“Ah ah ah, let’s use our words. Wanna make sure this is actually what you want.”

And how could it not be? Sure, this is all brand new to you; it’s nerve-wracking and scary even… but it feels so good. There’s an intense pressure building between your legs, and you’d give anything for Peter to make it go away, to make it feel better.

After giving it maybe two seconds of thought, you’re nodding your head again as your lips part, “I-I want this. I want it Peter, promise.” He considers asking if you’re sure, but with the way your lips are pouted, and your eyes are so wide and blown out, he can tell you’re running out of patience.

“Okay sweetheart, okay.” He obliges, slowly lifting the hem of the gown up, helping you slide it up your body and over your head, disposing of it somewhere on the floor. His eyes rake up and down every inch of your exposed skin, taking you in. He practically drools at the sight of your breasts, reaching up to gently fondle them in his hands.

“Oh baby,” he watches as you preen underneath his touches, “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect for me.”

You can’t even imagine how you must look to him right now. Laid underneath him in nothing but a pair of panties, chest heaving, eyes blown wide, and your mind so foggy and blissful as he begins to tug on your nipples. Your hips buck up yet again as he does so, and you react with a whine. You need him so bad, you need to feel him touching you all over.

He chuckles darkly, dipping down to place a kiss to the valley between your breasts, “I’ve got you baby.” One of his hands slowly trails down your tummy, making its way to the hem of your underwear. It startles you with how fast he dips his hand underneath the fabric, swiping two of his fingers through your folds. Your whole body jolts and you gasp in surprise. He slips his hand back out, observing the excessive amount of slick that coats his fingers.

“Mmm look at how wet you are darling, you’ve soaked through your panties entirely. What a messy little thing you are.” He places his fingers between his lips, moaning around them as he cleans his slick coated digits. You can’t help but watch, completely mesmerized by how dirty all of this is. He was right, this is something you’d never in a thousand years be able to experience if you were to stay here. Papa would have be so enraged…but you don’t have care about him. You don’t have to listen to Papa anymore.

He dips down between your legs again, both hands gently tugging your white panties down your legs. You almost feel embarrassed at the way he has to peel the cloth away from your soaked cunt, but he moans at the sight, instantly calming your anxieties.

He watches in awe as your messy cunt pulses, drooling from your tight little hole. He looks up at you, blowing cool air right onto your clit, watching in amusement as your pussy twitches and you whine. You look down at his position, feeling confusion feign through you once again, “What are you doing?” You squeak out, watching his eyes raise to meet yours again, amusement filling them.

“I’m going to make you feel good baby. But first-” He sits up just a little bit to gather your attention, “Hands above your head.” You squint at him, wondering why he could be asking such a thing of you right now. “You heard me darling, go on and put your hands above your head.”

You oblige, lifting them up and over your head, resting them against the pillow. He smiles, placing a delicate kiss you to inner thigh, and your hips buck again in pure desperation. “Good girl, now keep them there for me.”

You don’t have enough time to respond and ask why, before his mouth is on you, devouring your sweet little cunt. The sensation feels so foreign to you, yet is has you writhing around like a crazy person as he eats you out. You whimper and whine as he swipes his tongue from your hole up to your clit.

He loves how noisy you are as he makes out with your soaked cunt. Your moans fill the air as you take everything that’s he’s giving you, and the twisted part inside of him is so grateful that he’s the only one that can hear you. He can’t even stand the thought of someone else hearing you like this, some other guard pleasuring you between your legs as you writhe desperately.

No, these pretty noises and your body are his. All his, and nobody else’s. His tongue laps at your clit before flicking it through your folds, and looking up at you through his lashes. He dips his tongue down to your weepy hole, circling it around the entrance to taste you, and your back arches, grinding down into his face.

“Oh- Oh god Peter! Mmm feels good, feels so good oh fuck!”

That’s right, he thinks, moan my name while I take what’s mine. He knows just how good he’s making you feel, and he’ll continue to make you feel this good over and over again after you leave this place. He’ll have you weak at the knees with every gentle touch, ready to let him use you however he pleases. You’ll be his perfect little pet, needing him all the time, craving to be touched by him, tasted by him, filled by him-

But you’re not ready for that just yet. As much as he wants to see you writhe and moan like a perfect little slut while you take every inch of his cock, he doesn’t want to rush you into anything. This is all about you and your pleasure right now, not his. Though he does find it very pleasurable to be buried face first in your sweet little cunt.

You mewl as he swirls his tongue around your clit while gently suckling on it. Your hole continues to flutter and soak the sheets below you, so he can’t help it when he finds himself slowly rimming it with one of his fingers. He begins to push it inside of you, slowly pressing it in inch by inch, slowly lapping at your clit as he watches your whole body tense up, a broken cry escaping you.

“P-Peter!”

You’re so tight around his finger, and when he finally pushes it knuckle deep he cooes as your whole body trembles in ecstasy. You feel a coil in your lower tummy tightening dangerously, as you feel a high of sorts approaching. Your toes are beginning to curl and— oh god his mouth feels so good on you, sucking and devouring your clit like it’s his last meal.

The way he’s stretching you out on his finger feels otherworldly. If you’d have only known that this level of ecstasy was possible, you would have begged Peter for this a long time ago. And considering how much he’s enjoying this, you can’t help but wonder if he’s wanted this for a while as well.

You’re grinding your hips down to meet his tongue as high pitched whines and moans leave your lips. He can tell you’re getting close, and a wicked thought crosses his mind. He slowly curls his finger upward inside of you, and you cry out so loudly that your body snaps forward, and your hands are gripping his hair. You’re so close, chasing the high as you grip his hair between your trembling fingers.

But then it stops, and you’re pushed back down against the mattress by an unseen force.

“No!” You cry, tears instantly filling your eyes as all of the pleasure is ripped away from you, pulling you back from the edge you were teetering on, “No no no Peter- please!”

He hums waiting a moment to speak as he listens to your begging and whining. He knows how close you were to cumming, but you broke his rule and moved your hands.

“What did I tell you before I started?” He asks patiently, crawling back up your body, hovering over the top of you to see your face. You huff out shaky breaths as you try your best to think past your cloudy mind.

“I-I…I don’t- I can’t-” you stutter out, bottom lip wobbling as a few tears leak from your eyes, feeling everything becoming just a little too much for you.

“Shhh,” he shushes gently, wiping the tears from your face. His thumb moves to caress your temple and you hiccup, “Yes you can. Deep breath for me, c’mon.” You oblige, following his instructions as your chest rises and falls slowly, “You can do it sweetheart, what did I tell you before I started?”

“You-you said…” you press your eyes shut, trying to remember his exact words before he started eating you out so blissfully, “You said… to keep my hands up.”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “My smart girl.” He mumbles, and your skin flushes a deep red at the praise.

“And do you know why I stopped?“ He continues, eyeing you carefully.

“Because I didn’t keep my hands up.” You grumble, he lets it slide for now, knowing you’re still a bit worked up.

“That’s right,” he strokes some of your hair from your face, “You didn’t listen, so I had to stop.”

The pout on your face only grows and you find yourself talking back to him, “But that’s not fair! It-it felt so good and I couldn’t help it! That was so mean and-” you’re cut off as he grips your chin, firmly squeezing your cheeks between his fingers.

“Hey,” he chides, “Where did this attitude come from hm?“

You don’t respond, you can’t really respond with the way he’s holding your face, but he can see in your eyes how your mood immediately shifts, melting for him once again.

“I thought you wanted to be a good girl for me? Cause you’re not being very good right now.” You whimper in response, nodding your head under his grip to show him that you wanna be good again, wanna be perfect for him.

“Yeah? You gonna be good again? Gonna stop giving me attitude?” He releases his grip on your face to let you speak, and you do, pleas falling from your mouth as you tell him just how good you’ll be.

“Think you can keep your hands up here this time baby?” He asks politely, tapping your wrists that rest above your head. You pause for a moment, before shaking your head, wanting to be honest with him.

“I-I don’t think I can…I wanna be good! Honest!” You rush out, “I just- I don’t think I can keep them here.” You pause, chewing on your lip as you try to think of how to ask the next part. Peter watches you closely, feeling like he already knows what you’re about to say, “Can you um- can you maybe help me?”

And god what kind of monster would he be if he didn’t oblige to you. The way you stare up at him through wide bleary eyes, the way you nervously chew on your trembling bottom lip, and the way you asked so sweetly…he can never say no to you.

“Since you asked so politely, yes sweetheart I can do that for you.” You sigh in relief as you feel him slowly climbing back down your body, situating himself between your legs once more. You feel a pressure against your wrists as they are pinned down above your head, and you whimper out a small, “Thank you.”

“Of course darling,” and with that his lips are attached to you again, tongue swirling around your clit mercilessly.

“A-Ah!” You cry out, unable to stop the way your legs are trembling around his head. The relief is so good, he’d left your poor cunt unattended and desperate for the last few minutes, and he intended to make up for it in every way possible.

His slips his finger back inside of you and you squirm underneath him, bucking your hips to fuck yourself on his digit. 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.

You unintentionally try to move your hands every few moments, only to be reminded of the weighted pressure against them, as Peter keeps them constrained with his powers. The feeling of being pinned down beneath him as he pleasures you only makes everything more intense, and you can feel that familiar pressure building up once more.

Fear creeps in at the thought of him repeating what happened last time you felt that pressure building, and you begin to mindlessly beg, “Mmmm please don’t stop- god don’t stop Peter. I-I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be good just please don’t stop.” You cry out, chasing your high again as you buck against his tongue.

And god he wouldn’t dream of it, in fact, he suckles on your clit even harder, slowly pushing another finger into your hole, desperately wanting you to come undone on his tongue.

The stretch around his fingers is what finally pushes you over the edge, and your back arches high as your orgasm tears through you like a white hot heat. You cry and your eyes roll back into your head as intense waves of pleasure shoot through your body. You’re rocking your hips desperately against his tongue, just riding it out.

He hums around your clit as you clench and pulse around his fingers, continuing to thrust them deep in your cunt as you ride out the high. He doesn’t stop until your back finally meets the mattress again, and your a panting sweating mess.

“God just look at you,” He slowly pulls his fingers from your hole, admiring the aftermath of your ruined pussy, “So good for me, look at how much you came.”

You whimper in response, letting his praise infiltrate your floaty, fucked out mind. You feel the weight let up on your wrists, but you keep them there, absentmindedly fearing his wrath. It isn’t until they’re lifted from their position, and gentle kisses are placed along your wrists that you open your eyes, meeting his fiery blue ones.

“There she is.” He smiles down at you, stroking your cheek. You smile back at him, still feeling floaty and euphoric.

“Hi…” you whisper, and he chuckles, admiring how cute you are like this.

“Hi.” He responds, utterly amused, “How was that?”

You hum in delight, nodding your head. “I don’t think I could ever get enough of that.” A smirk creeps onto his face at your answer, as he studies your naked body beneath him.

He’s done it, he’s finally done it. He’s going to leave this living hell, and he’s going to do it with you exactly where he wants you. Wrapped around his finger, and well, eventually his cock. And god he can’t wait for the day he’ll finally get to ruin and defile you.

“Peter?” You ask timidly, cutting off his thoughts. He hums in response, “Thank you.” You genuinely mean that, and he knows it.

“You’re welcome darling.”

Oh yeah, you’re his now, and he’s never letting you go.

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rxttingsblog · 2 years

Text

ೃ⁀➷ Notes ೃ⁀➷

Summary: Reader is a mute and reserved test subject at Hawkins Lab. No one knew what her voice sounded like. She only communicated by using a notebook and always came off as “emotionless” but one night, someone catches her sobbing in her room alone because of a disastrous incident that occurred. Will anyone be there to comfort her?

—Peter Ballard/Henry creel x fem!crybaby!mute!Reader

(Reader is 18+ obviously)

______________________________________

Warning: age-gap, yandere!peter, mentions of m*rder, abuse, angst, pure fluff tbh, dark themes inside Hawkins lab.

•••

It’s not that you were stubborn, you just couldn’t speak. You refused to socialize with anyone else around you. Even with the other test subjects who were kindhearted towards you. Not a single word escaped your mouth. There were only some occasions where you debated on interacting but at the end of the day you still remained as quiet as a mouse.

This obviously took a toll on your life. Papa said you had to communicate. He said you wouldn’t make it anywhere in life if you just stayed mute for your entire life but you never gave a shit. Why did life matter? You were going to be stuck in this prison forever anyway, so it never mattered to you in the first place. But because of Brenner’s toxic behavior you had to communicate in some way. That’s when you decided to communicate through a notebook. Papa was never too keen on the idea but at least you were “opening up.”

But despite having the notebook, you barely put it to use. You still never socialized with any human being. Sometimes you used the notebook, sometimes not at all. No one even cared to talk to you anyway. You couldn’t name anyone who cared at the top of your head. So that’s why you had barely put the notebook to use.

However, there was only one. This one certain person who actually did talk to you. A person who took a liking towards you. Someone who found you to be rather intriguing. It shocked you to your core because you’ve never experienced this much kindness before. Sure, maybe some of the other test subjects were nice but it would always end up with them thinking you’re weird at the end of the day. This caused you to develop trust issues. You even were hesitant about trusting the young man who talked to you almost everyday.

His name was Peter, or Mr. Ballard. The other patients referred to him as Mr. Ballard. He was the only one who didn’t think you were weird. At first you were shy around him since you weren’t expecting an orderly to socialize with you but later on you opened up which he was very glad about. But even he didn’t even hear your voice and you weren’t planning on revealing it to him anytime soon. You weren’t sure why he was so interested in you. Was it because you were different? He always told you that you were different but he reminds you that it was in a good way. It confused you to no end.

But even though you didn’t trust him that much due to your mental health. You still had great respect for him. You could even say that the two of you were friends. It was still awkward because you never understood the meaning of friendship nor how it worked. While others talked and laughed with each other you only talked to your one friend by writing the conversation out. When you wrote, Peter responded verbally. But he never made fun of you, maybe he secretly liked that you were never loud and obnoxious like some of the other patients here.

Peter seemed to be quite hostile towards everyone else besides you. He was always there to give you a hand. If he ever witnessed you getting bullied, he would protect you and turn in the bullies to his boss. Papa would usually handle them accordingly since bullying was permitted in the laboratory. But even after all of that, you’d remain as emotionless as can be. It even surprised Peter.

He never met someone who was so void of emotion. Until that one night that changed everything..

—

“So even after all of this you still remain silent?” Taunted Papa, he loomed over your collapsed body that lied on the cold tiled floor.

The day was going by smoothly before Papa called you in. At first you assumed that the two of you were going to have a private lesson not a lesson where he tortured you. Papa explained to you that this was a punishment for being non-verbal.

Visible scars, burns, scabs, and even bruises were engraved into your once soft skin. You weren’t even expecting this to happen. All of this madness just because you had trouble speaking. You were fighting back the urge to cry. But only Papa could tell you were about to break. A smug smile spread across his crusted lips.

“Still nothing, hm?” Brenner chastised with his grin growing wider. His smile made you want to punch him in that moment.

Your body remained motionless on the ground. All you could do was stare up at him with intense fear that kept increasing. Papa was a very cruel and ruthless man. This was his dark side.

Only you had seen this side of him and it’s not like anyone would believe you if you were to expose him. Expose the things he has put you through. He made you crave the sweet embrace of death. You remember you’d always ask the same questions in your head; “Why does this have to happen to me? Did i deserve this?”

“Alex, please escort 004 back to her room.” Ordered Papa.

The orderly nodded and approached you. He commanded for you to get up but you were far too weak to even stand on your own. Alex scoffed in annoyance before aggressively pulling you up by your wrist. You tried not to yelp out in pain.

Alex escorted you back to your room. It was common for patients and orderlies to walk hand in hand. Papa said it was one of the main rules. You thought it was childish and you always resented it. But rules are rules despite how stupid they can be. The pain on your feet increased the more you walked. Alex practically dragged you since your feeble walking pace aggravated him.

After a few agonizing seconds, you made it back to your room in one piece. Alex locked the door behind you. Then again, it was common for that as well. The subjects had zero freedom and always kept the doors locked during the night. The orderlies on night shift would usually do checks in the room. In order to make sure no one escaped and that no one was awake. The rules here were always very uptight. That was another thing that annoyed you to no end.

When you could no longer hear Alex’s foot steps. That’s when you broke down into a crying fit. You had the tendency to sob hysterically when you were extremely upset. You were a master at faking your emotions so getting by in the lab without passing a single feeling was going off without a hit. But behind closed doors was when you were your truest self. That’s when you showed emotion.

It was hard not to cry too hard. After all, you couldn’t draw attention. And god forbid if anyone actually heard you. You wouldn’t be surprised if the people here punished you for having literal emotions. If someone were to ever cry here they’d get in trouble. Just another reason you lacked public emotion.

Your soft sobs grew louder so you had to shut yourself up by clasping a hand over your mouth as you lied down in bed. You were doing everything in your power to not strengthen your sadness. But being in this cold room seemed to make everything feel beyond impossible.

So here you were, with your body curled up on the bed, a hand over your mouth in order to subside your sobbing, and racing thoughts that never left your brain. You grabbed the pale covers and pulled them over your head. You feared that one of the mean guards would punish you if they heard you since at this point your crying was becoming louder. It was to a point where you were hyperventilating.

It’s not that you were emotionless, you just acted. In front of other people you pretended to be normal. But not that it helped from the way you were mute and used a damn book to communicate with. Everyone thought you were even stranger.

Who could even want to associate themselves with a screw up like you? A deep part of you inside was wishing someone would comfort you but as always comfort was one of the main things forbidden. To summarize it, love was forbidden. Not that it was a shocker though.

The clock finally hit 9:00 PM. That’s when night shift would be on patrol. Peter was one of the few orderlies who often took that shift. They would all frequently do checks. But this was something you weren’t aware of. You were far too busy crying to even care. Peter was on shift with one of the other orderlies. He had been wanting to talk to you all day before you were ripped away from him by Papa. Peter couldn’t express his anger towards that old hag.

Before you got punished, Peter and you were having a lovely conversation in the rainbow room. He would usually tell you about his kinship towards black widow spiders. You’d always listen to him because something about him was comforting. Especially his voice. Peter knew almost every aspect of you. But catching you crying caught him off guard.

As Peter made his way down the depressing corridor he could make out just the sound of faint crying. Normally, this is something he wouldn’t care about. But the crying came from your room. You were the only person he actually cared about. The both of you shared a deep connection. You weren’t like the others since you were the only one who was actually born with this gift. Unlike the others who were cheap rip-offs of him. Peter’s heart sank at the thought of you crying.

He didn’t want you to be upset. It honestly shocked him to hear you crying though. Usually you were the most reserved person ever. A smile never on your face, your eyes no longer magnetic and now empty. Lacking empathy 24/7. Never enthusiastic or interested in anything at all. You were also very insecure which is something he never understood. Peter always thought you were gorgeously exotic.

Peter knew the risk he was about to take, he knew he would get in trouble (lots of trouble) for this but he didn’t give a damn anymore. It honestly wouldn’t matter in the future anyway because he was going to kill everyone in this lab. As soon as he did, that’s when you two would finally escape together. Peter would provide you with the love you deserved. He only liked being your caretaker not anyone else’s. He only wanted you to talk to him and him alone.

“(Y/n), may you please let me in?” Peter asked after knocking on your door.

Your heart suddenly dropped, he knew you had been crying. You felt bad for not letting him in but why should you? All the orderlies torture you so what if he was like them? You wouldn’t even be surprised. Whenever something good happened something bad always lurked around the corner.

When you didn’t answer, Peter took it upon himself to let himself in by force. So he pulled out his key card to open the door. All orderlies had access to the patients rooms. They could let themselves in whenever they pleased. Giving you yet another reason to be afraid.

When you heard the door swing open you remained hidden under the covers. But Peter was no fool. He was able to make out the outline of your figure that was hidden under the blanket. He let out a brief sigh but it wasn’t one of those sighs out of annoyance. As he approached you, your heart pounded out your chest. The rising fear that he was going to harm you like everyone else in this hellhole. You wished you weren’t so scared.

Peter sat on the edge of your bed right next to your hidden body. Without trying to startle you he pulled the blanket off your head but as if on command, you subconsciously jumped and snatched the blanket from out his grasp. Peter held his hands up in surrender and indicated that he meant no harm. He only wanted to know what was wrong with you. He did truly care, no lying intended.

“Hey, hey, sweetness. I’m not going to hurt you..” Peter gently reassured, with another attempt to remove the blanket that was over your head.

His heart sank when he saw your tears, your glossy eyes, and puffy pink lips. Peter frowned at the sight of it. You pulled your gaze away from him and faced the other side of the wall. You felt humiliated. You kept the other part of the blanket over your body. Not wanting to show your fresh injuries. He’d most likely interrogate you if he saw them.

“Do you mind telling me what’s wrong? I promise it’ll only stay between the two of us.” The orderly soothed, while gently running his slender fingers through your hair. He then cupped his hand under your chin so that you’d meet his gaze. His fingers brushed off your tears the more they cascaded down your face.

Peter probably wouldn’t believe you but it didn’t hurt to try. With the blanket still wrapped around you, you hastily reached for your notebook and pencil and began to write. Peter watched you closely while you were in the process of writing.

“Papa hurt me because i’m always so quiet.” Is what you had wrote down. Peter analyzed it closely, understanding every word. The anger he felt couldn’t even be described. If he didn’t have that soteria implanted in his neck none of this would be happening. He couldn’t wait to escape with you.

“What did he do to you?” Peter asked next, wanting to know what type of injuries you had. At first you hesitated but at the end went with it. You slipped off the blankets that were over your body and showed him your injuries. His icy gaze went wide while looking at this.

You felt more tears welling up in your eyes as it ached to fight them back. For some reason when someone comforted you it made you cry even more. You let out small sobs as you begun to cry again but Peter was quick to react.

“Hey.. come here, doll.” Peter gave his lap two firm pats. Beckoning for you come over. You gave into your instincts and crawled into his lap. Your arms draped around his torso while his hands snaked around your waist to pull you all the way up into his lap. You sobbed into his chest as he whispered nothing but sweet praises into your ear. An attempt to calm you down.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here now. You’re doing so good for me, darling. I promise we’ll get out of here one day. Just the two of us.” He continued to soothe you. Peter removed one hand from your waist so that he could gently caress your hair. His shirt felt so soft against your face, your tears did leave a damp spot on his white uniform though. Hopefully he doesn’t kill you for that. You then felt Peter place a long kiss on top of your head. Your body shuddered in response.

You wondered what this feeling was. Something about the way Peter comforted you didn’t feel like it was in a friendly way. More of a romantic way?But love was a word you never fully understood. All you knew is that it ended in heartbreak.

You remember Peter once explained to you how Papa was overly strict with him too. This led you to overthink. He was risking his life for you and you hated it. Peter shouldn’t risk this for you. The amount of guilt you’d feel afterwards if you ever got him in trouble. Without warning, you squirmed away from his embrace. Peter furrowed an eyebrow at you, he didn’t like that you pulled away from him.

“Honey, what was that for? Why’d you pull away?” He inquired, worry residing his raspy voice. His conflicted gaze fixated on you.

You just shook yourself and wrote something inside your notebook again. The only thing that could be heard was the ongoing scribbling from your dull pencil.

“Why are you doing this? You’ll get in trouble. I’m not worth your time. I don’t want you in trouble.” The paper read, Peter examined it once more and only hummed in response. A hum that told you he disagreed with your statement.

“Oh, sweetheart.. you do know i’m already well aware of that? I know what i’m risking. I’m choosing to do it. I don’t care what happens to me.” Peter stated matter of factly. You only shook your head, you still felt guilty.

Peter only chuckled in response and shuffled his body closer to yours, “Now how about you let me hold you? What type of caretaker would that make me if i left you alone in a state like this?”

To be blunt, you wanted him to comfort you. Actually no, you needed it. But you still didn’t want him to get in trouble.

Now your stubbornness was coming out, you huffed in response and plopped back down onto the bed. Curling up into a ball. Peter only rolled his eyes and crawled into bed next to you. He lied next to you and looked deeply into your eyes.

“Why are you being so stubborn, hm?” He asked with a little hum. You felt so small under his intense staring. He tucked a stand of hair behind your ear.

Peter knew how hard communication was for you. But that didn’t matter because it’s like he could read your thoughts out loud. You and Peter were the complete opposite in a way. He’s stronger, more clever and persistent. While you were vulnerable and could crack at any given second.

You just felt like crying again, you did anything in your power to avoid direct eye contact with him. Peter didn’t like that so much. He wanted to make sure he had your full attention.

“Look at me,” Peter suddenly demanded, but his voice remained soft. He could never be upset with you. He did however want your attention.

He got your attention by guiding your face back to his so that you could look right into his eyes. Peter stared longingly into your e/c eyes. Like he was staring right into your very soul. His soft hand stroked your delicate face. Peter was very handsome, it was dark in your room but you were still able to make out his sharp jawline, his soft golden locks, and ocean blue eyes.

“You’re so beautiful..” Peter complimented, your face flushed at his words. You wondered if he could feel your face heating up. The power he had over you was unreal.

Without warning, Peter wrapped his large arms around you and pulled you into his chest. His fingers ventured up so that he could play with your hair once more. As you rested against his chest you could hear his steady heartbeat. The caressing of your hair slowly subsiding your sniffling and lulling you to sleep.

For the first time in your life, you felt safe, at ease, no papa, no more bullying. Peter was your home. You took great solace while being in his embrace. If only this night could last forever. You knew for a fact he would be gone in the morning and it filled you with unwanted dread. But work must come first. Oh how you just despised the cycle of life.

“I promise i won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.” Was the last thing Peter whispered in your ear before you finally drifted off to sleep.

It wasn’t a lie that Peter loved you. He’d do anything in his power to protect you. He was going to love you no matter what. Even if you refused to reveal your voice to him. Peter would find out what you sounded like sooner or later. For now he cherished this one spectacular moment of you sleeping peacefully in his arms.

There was no need to worry about pain anymore because this would all be over soon. Peter would make sure of it. And that is a promise he made to you and only you.

(a/n: hi! this is my first time writing on tumblr so please be nice! if y’all have any suggestions or requests i’d love to hear them! i hope you enjoyed this story. i’m sorry if my english is bad btw!)

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ilikefandoms · 2 years

Text

Safe - Peter Ballard

Summary - You are afraid of being captured back to the lab, and you can’t seem to relax. Peter helps you

Pronouns used - They/Them

A/N - God, this is my first time writing in over a year. Hope this didn’t suck

Warnings - Mentions of shock torture, OOC Peter ig? This is mainly gender neutral, but Peter does pick the reader up

Word Count - 1,474

You were on edge. You constantly felt like you were being watched: every phone that rang making you jump out of your skin, every security camera you came across felt like it was watching your every move, daring you to look directly at it so it could track, and hunt you down. And, considering you worked at the local supermarket, that wasn’t good thing.

Your boss had noticed how uneasy you were, and after an incident of you shattering a bottle of wine, after a customer had tapped you on the shoulder, she promptly asked you to go home and get some rest.

So arriving home, you kicked your shoes off, switched on the TV and collapsed on the couch. You tried to wind-down and relax, but you couldn’t. You hadn’t been able to relax, or even sleep, in what felt like days, and if you weren't careful, Peter would start to notice. You couldn’t worry him with this, he didn’t deserve more stress.

You jolted at the sudden sound of the front door opening. It was only Peter. “You’re home early darling,” Peter said, spotting you on the couch.

“Yeah, work sent me home early,” you said.

“How come,” Peter sat next to you, giving you a quick peck on the forehead.

“Couldn’t concentrate, the told me to go home,” you shrugged.

“Oh,” Peter responded, “I’m going to make pasta tonight, your favourite,” He smiled.

“You don’t have to,”

“Well, I bought the stuff for it at the little store next to work before I came home,” he remarked.

“Any reason?” you queried.

“Just want to treat my favourite person,” he planted a kiss on your cheek, “Just stay here, and I’ll call you through when it’s done,”

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” you asked.

“I’m sure,” Peter stood up, “I have magic literally at my fingertips baby, you just relax,”

You stayed sat on the couch hearing the muffled clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen. You couldn’t relax. You thoughts were racing through your head.

What if Brenner found you?

What would he do to Peter?

What would he do to you?

Memories of the lab plagued your mind.

...You awoke with a groan, your limbs still shaking. Your electrical burns bandaged, but still throbbing in pain. You blinked a couple of times to clear your vision. You were in the infirmary, the white curtains that surrounded your bed giving it away.

“You should’ve stayed away from Peter when I told you to!” Dr Brenner's angry voice pierced your ears, as yet another shock was delivered to your abdomen by an Orderly.

“Please, make it stop, I’ll do anything!” you begged, tears streaming down your face. The pain was excruciating. You didn’t know how much more you could take of this. It felt as if your brain was bleeding out of your ears. Surely you wouldn’t make it...

You heard hushed voices from behind the curtains, “Please, just two minutes, I need to see them,”

“Fine. Two minutes, not a second more. I’m not putting myself on the line for you Peter,”

Peter. Peter was here.

You watched as the curtains were pulled back, and promptly closed again, revealing Peter, “Hi darling,” he was whispered.

“Hi,” you croaked out, as your boyfriend kneeled down next to your bed, and gently held your hand in his.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the back of your hand.

“It’s not your fault,” you squeezed his hand reassuringly, “Just promise me one thing,”

“Anything my love,”

“Get us out of here. I don’t know how much longer I can bare this,” you choked out, eyes welling up with tears.

“I promise,”

“Darling, dinner’s ready!” Peter’s voice snapped you back from your trance.

You took a deep breath, as you dragged yourself off from the couch, and into the dining room. Peter was placing your plate at your place on the table, “Would you like a drink?” he asked, pulling your chair out.

“Just water please,”

Peter returned less than a minute later, and set the water down on the table, “Looks amazing” you smiled at Peter as you spoke, “Thank you,”

“Not a problem. You know I quite enjoy making it,” Peter told you. He hadn’t been able to cook before in his life, and when you escaped, he had bought cookbooks-a-plenty. He had enjoyed creating and tasting all these new foods with you, lots of which he had never had heard of before.

You said little as you ate, preferring to simply listen to Peter talk about his day at work. You let out a small laugh as he told the story about how his co-worker had spectacularly tripped over his own two feet. Peter always had the ability to make you laugh when you were feeling down.

You and Peter finished eating, and you both stood up, bringing your empty plates into the kitchen. You went to turn on the hot tap, and wash up, when Peter grasped your arm, “I’ll do it later darling,” and as you opened your mouth to protest, he said “Ah, ah, I won’t hear it. Come on,”

Your boyfriend held your hand, leading you back into the living room, and onto the couch. He faced you, and clasped your hands in his, “What’s going on with you Y/N?”

“What do you mean?” you said, avoiding eye contact.

“Don’t pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Peter stated, “I’ve noticed how little sleep you’ve been getting, how jumpy you are, and how on edge you’ve been,”

You swallowed. You didn’t know you’d been that obvious.

“Look at me,” Peter said softly, “You can talk to me. You always can. I just want to help you,”

You felt tears well up in your eyes. How could you tell him what was going on in your mind? Wouldn’t that just make him just as paranoid? Would he be angry that you were thinking about the lab, and not this new life you had made for yourselves?

You felt a couple tears drop from your eyes, and hastily removed your hand from Peter’s to wipe them. It couldn’t hurt to try and tell him. It’s just Peter. Your Peter.

“I just..” you took a deep breath, composing yourself, “I keep thinking about the lab, and what they did to me - what they did to us, and I just keep wondering...” you trailed off, letting more tears fall.

“Wondering what, sweetheart?” Peter asked, wiping the tears from your face with his thumbs.

“What is they find us?” you blurted out, breathing heavily, “What if they take us back? What if they hurt us again?” your voice cracked as you spoke, “And, what if.. they take you away from me?” It was somehow worse to say out loud.

“Oh darling,” Peter pulled you into his lap, and wrapped his arms around you, letting you bury your head into his shoulder, “They’re not going to find us. But, if in a ten-million to one chance that they do, they’re not going to take us. I’m going to protect you. I would never let them take me away from you,”

“Promise?” you mumbled into his shoulder.

“I promise,” he affirmed, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

You looked up at him, still sniffing, but no tears escaped from your eyes, “I love you,”

“I love you too,” he presses his lips to yours, “Lets go to bed, yeah?”

You nodded, and before you could get up, Peter was tightening his grip around you, and stood up, carrying you to your shared bedroom.

Peter gently placed you onto your queen-sized bed, pulled out some comfy pyjama trousers, and one of his oversized t-shirts for you to wear from the chest of draws in the corner of the room, then proceeded to get changed himself. He had put on a plain pair of pyjama trousers.

Once your were both changed, he guided you in silence to your en suit bathroom, to brush your teeth. He then guided you back to your side of the bed, and opened the covers for you to get in.

Switching his bedside lamp off, and getting into his own side of the bed, he wrapped his arms around you yet again, “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now darling?”

You shrugged, “I’m not sure,”

“Do you want me to help?” he asked.

“Please,” you nodded.

Peter slowly trailed his hand up, and down your back. You started to feel more relaxed, feeling like you could almost sink into the mattress. His hand traced up your back once more, this time, lightly pressing onto your temple with his fingers.

And, just like that, all your worries were gone. All those bad memories were nowhere to be seen. You felt at peace, your brain full with happy memories of you and Peter. You slowly drifted away into a slumber.

“Sleep well my love,” Peter whispered, wiping his bloody nose with a tissue, and placing it in the bin next to the bed, “I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise.”

********

#peter ballard x reader #peter ballard fluff #001 x reader #001 fluff #henry creel x reader #peter ballard imagine #peter ballard #001 imagine #henry creel imagine #henry creel fluff #peter ballard x y/n #peter ballard angst #001 x y/n #001 angst #henry creel angst

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lovetohate001 · 2 years

Note

Hii! Can I request an imagine with Henry and the reader where she’s another number (she was put in the lab late, around 15-16 and she’s been there for like 3-4 years?)& she can manipulate metallic elements (move them& put them together) and she likes to create these little mechanical spiders&henry catches her one day? 😌🤍

Itsy Bitsy Spider

Peter Ballard x Test Subject! Reader | FLUFF

CW: spoilers for season 4 Vol. 1

word count: 1.2k

Peter had seen spiders in Hawkin’s Laboratory for weeks now.

“I want you to look into this,” Doctor Brenner had told him. “If anyone can find where these are coming from, it sure as hell is you. Knowing how fond of black widows you were as a child.”

And Peter couldn’t argue with that. He never tried hard to find the culprit. How could he, when a small spider would follow him around the lab all day? Their mechanics were finely made and he had to admit, their attention to detail and craftsmanship was admirable. They were quite adorable, even if they weren’t completely sentient.

The Rainbow Room was quiet and you were amongst the few children allowed there for the afternoon. Monday’s training had left you drained, but you were proud for having done so well. Well enough to spend your afternoon here, where you could create.

Never mind the bright colours and rainbows adorning the walls of the Rainbow Room. You were fascinated with grey and black. The smudged colours came in so many different textures and shades that you couldn’t get enough.

The pin board where 002 was perfect. You played with a few blocks, one spinning as it levitated above your upturned palm. This was incredibly dull. Once he left the board, you made your way over.Looking over your shoulder, you saw Peter busy with 002 across the room.

Good. Keep them that way.

“Easy does it…” you murmured to yourself, eyebrows furrowed as you softly and carefully manipulated the glass just enough. It bended like water, and parted for you.

“Yes!” you cheered, not above a whisper in fear of getting caught. It was a small victory, but you were happy nonetheless.

You reached in and pulled four metal pins from the back of the plastic board, and a red puck for good measure, before closing the glass again.

You stared at the glass long enough to get a nose bleed. Your smug smile was wide and crinkled your eyes when you wiped your sleeve across your nose. In place of the metal poles you had taken, lay four brand new ones.

“It seems you’ve finally mastered the art of rebuilding and manipulation,” you heard Peter say from behind you.

“Huh?!” you whirled your head around, eyes wide in shock and your heart dropping to the very bottom of your body in dread. You’d been found out.

“Shh,” he held a finger to his lips and sat down by you. “If we act like I am helping you with the pucks, then the cameras won’t be able to see what we’re doing.”

“Huh?” you were so confused. For weeks you had heard murmurs of Papa trying to find this “mystery spider maker”, and now Peter wasn’t even trying to immediately hand you in?

“I saw your spiders over the last few weeks, you know,” Peter started, reaching for a red puck and putting it into the top of the board.

You kept your eyes fixed on it as he carried on speaking, remaining unsuspicious.

“They were so beautifully done, too,” he complimented you.

You couldn’t help being slightly flustered. If you were honest, all the other teenagers here around your age were absolutely smitten for him. Especially since he was the only one who was truly kind to you all. He also helped you a lot. All of you. during your assessments when you struggled, he would always whisper encouraging words and tips on how to do well before you began.

Brenner hated him for it, but everyone here adored him for his nature.

"Thank you,” you said, your eyes not daring to leave the board, moving the puck to fall into the 8th slot, as your wanted it to.

“Can you show me how you make them?” He asked. “I wonder…with this red puck and black metal, could you make a black widow?”

You huffed and looked down at the small poles and puck you had in your lap. You’d had such a love for rain spiders and their long legs. Why do a black widow when they were so small? It didn’t seem like much of a challenge for you.

“Why a black widow?” you finally asked, a frown adorning your soft features as you met his lovely blue eyes. “They’re not really that fun to make.”

“Hmm, lets see…” he crossed his arms and sighed. “For me, as a child, I loved black widows…They were such small little creatures, but with so much power. They’re very poisonous, despite their size. Did you know that?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded.

“Then you’d know that because of one single bite from this little creature would result in extreme pain. You can be paralysed…” he trailed off and laughed softly when he saw the way your eyes widened in fear.

“But don’t worry. Besides their malicious intent, I simply loved them, because they reminded me that no matter how small or unnoticed, I went as a child, I had just as much power to become greater.”

“That’s a good reason,” you agreed. “Knowing that small things can have much power can help you think you can have potential to do well too. Achieve the things you want to.”

“You remind me of black widows, slightly,” Peter pointed out. “You’re small but have such bite, with all that power you have.”

“I guess so,” you shrugged. “I’ll make your spider. Do you want me to show you how I do it?”

“Yes, I would love that.”

“On one condition,” you help up a finger, “Don’t tell Papa about them, just yet.”

“They can be our little secret,” Peter vowed, bowing his head solemnly.

With his promise in mind, you began your work.

You put the small little poles into the flat of your palm and stared stared stared, willing the metal to take form. The poles thinned out and slowly split in half, growing little spikes and tips. Spider’s legs, Peter realized, as you continued.

The puck melted into a soft clay, and eighteen small little balls of red made their way between the legs. The rest of the puck darkened and formed into an oval. The body. And a small red dot remained on the back.

Then a small head, and “There you go,” you said gently, placing the spider onto the white floor.

It slowly whirred to life and stood up, a newborn bambi first standing. It shuddered and shook, then stood still. Eight little eyes glistened, looking up at the two of you.

“Amazing…” Peter murmured, dumbstruck.

“You can keep him if you want,” you said cheerily, as if you hadn’t just created a life in front of his very eyes.

“Thank you,” Peter gave you a radiant smile and held out his hand, watching as the spider crawled onto his palm.

“We can call him Darcy.”

What could you say, you loved reading classics. It was the only thing Papa gave you to do here.

And so that was how Peter had Darcy follow him around the Lab for another month, the only spider that was allowed in the facility after Papa had called you in. Darcy was a little secret between you and Peter.

And you were so very happy to have finally made a friend, even if it took four years of being cooped up here to have found one.

MASTERLIST

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kaylawritesfics · 2 years

Note

Platonic 001 head cannons where reader is one of the test subjects in the Hawkins Lab, and 001 takes them under his wing? Reader clings to him seeing him as a dad or big brother figure

Peter Ballard As A Brother Figure

headcanons

summary: what peter is like as a brother figure

pairing: peter ballard x reader (platonic)

warnings: mentions of canon typical violence, mentions of torture

note: i love this man

Peter is so supportive !! He’s always there, secretly cheering you on and wishing you luck before every lesson.

He thinks the world of you. You probably remind him of himself and he has a strong urge to protect you.

He really tries to help you however he can. Whether it’s by helping you with an activity in the rainbow room or reminding you to stay calm and focused.

He’s always so proud of you when you do well with a lesson or activity, giving you a proud smile and a discreet pat on the back as you walk by.

He would never, ever let anyone hurt you. He teaches you little ways to protect yourself against the other children.

The first time you hugged him, he was a little confused and shocked, awkwardly patting your head or back.

He would give you little gifts whenever he notices you’re feeling down or whenever you’ve been doing particularly well. He especially likes to pick flowers from the yard, tucking them neatly into the pocket of his shirt, passing them off to you later that day.

He always reminds you to take a break and breath. He knows what being overworked can do to you and he would never want you to experience the things he did as a child.

He often gets punished and tortured for his close relationship with you, but he never regrets it. He’d take a thousand electric shocks if it meant he could help you.

He would definitely help you get out, arranging an escape plan that helps the both of you.

He has incredible patience. Nothing really deters him and he never really gets angry with you.

He’s the sweetest !! He’ll always praise you for doing a good job, even if your performance was subpar that particular day.

He would quite literally kill anyone who tried to hurt you.

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libid1ne · 2 years

Text

someone to watch over.

peter ballard/henry creel/001 x reader

✰summary: henry has a crush on you, his only companion and his true love. and you have a crush on henry, your bestest friend in the whole world. despite this, you’re to scared to tell him and he’s too worried to tell you and so you two act like your hearts aren’t fluttering.

no warnings!! just cute fluff :)

enjoy!

henry couldn't compare you to anything, you were simply the best. his only companion, besides the spiders he had found in the vent, and the only human in the world he'd ever truly need.

the feeling inside his chest, the one you always gave him when you smiled or squeezed his hand or pulled him into a hug. now, he could compare that to something. it felt like fireworks, and cotton candy, and dancing to the beat of the rain. it felt comforting, like the songs his parents would play and he imagined it would last forever.

that you two would be married, and one day you'd open your eyes. see the world how he had always, and finally you two would conquer the universe together. hand in hand, a shiny ring on your finger and the multiverse at your fingertips.

henry wanted the best for you, and wanted all your wishes to come true. he'd do anything for you, and he dreamed of marrying you every single day. even now, as he stared at you from the back of the math classroom.

he liked it because he could ogle at you from a far, no worry about being caught. the embarrassed blush that would dust his cheeks whenever you realized he was looking at you wasn't the most amazing expression.

he hated it deeply because he wished he was next to you, but instead, it was that rather unpleasant bully of his. henry could think up a hundred million reasons why him sitting next to you would be better. an example is the fact that he understood math very, very well. In fact, it was his best subject and you seemed to be struggling with it. he could help you, and watch that darling smile of yours spread across your face.

he really was head over heels for you, the way your hair fell over your face, your voice, your laugh. how when you held his hand, you never hesitated to intertwine the fingers and pull him closer.

inside, he wished to pepper your face in kisses. to admit his undying love to you, to be your knight, your rock. it was endearing, the way you'd skip over to him during lunch despite being the most popular person in school and knowing you could sit with anyone.

you would plop down next to him and shoo off anyone who would bother the both of you. it was you and him against the world, against bullies, against math, against people, against everything and anything.

henry watched longingly as you asked the man that had been tormenting him for weeks for help! why, henry is beyond shocked. how could you, a sweet lovely amazing girl, talk to that guy!

henry watched jealously from the back of the math class, his gaze flickering from you to the jerk of a boy. he doesn't think he can watch one more second or else he'll do something he'll regret.

and as if god heard his wishes, the bell rings throughout the classroom. signaling that it was lunch time and henry would have 30 minutes to eat and most of all, spend time with you.

henry collects his books and starts to walk from his seat, a smile stretches across his face when he sees you walk— practically gallop to his side. the teacher is talking about homework, but henry can't hear her over you.

you're talking about your day so far, about how you hate math and how in the morning before school you slipped on the grass, which is why your white socks are slightly tinted a bit brown.

you talk about your hair style, and how last night you went to your cousins birthday party. henry can tell, there's still small specks of glitter in your hair and he reaches down to take one out. you smile, softly and happily.

one of your hands slip into his, and you two walk down the hallway hand in hand. you do most of the talking, and henry listens. he sometimes asks you questions, to make sure you know he's listening.

your hands are warm, and henry's hand doesn't hesitate to soak up your warmth. you two walk to your usual lunch table and sit down. of course, you're still going on about whatever happened in science and of course, henry is listening intently.

he'll never know this, just like you'll never know he likes you but, you thought about kissing him today and yesterday, and the week before that. you thought about kissing him on the cheek, or on the lips like you sometimes see your parents do.

but for now, you'll settle for his hand in yours. holding onto him, and him holding onto you. he likes this, you talking with him while you both eat from his lunch box.

you forgot your lunch again. well, as far as he knows. You had made it a habit to leave your lunch at home, despite the scolding you'd get from your mother. you did it to have this small, seemingly insignificant moment with peter.

you're both eating strawberries, and your teeth are tinted red. you laugh, and he smiles. he really loves you, and he can't help but think life couldn't be better at all without you.

you two, according to all teachers, are attached by the hip. henry hears what they say about you two, when they think they're whispering about how adorable you both are.

but he couldn't care less about what they say, as long as he has you. that's all he will ever need or cherish or want, you. the most angelic smile comes on your face, it's shy and small and you're giggling.

"i’m so sorry! i almost forgot to ask about you, how was your day hen?"

henry tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and he smiles too. "it's better now."

and you feel your heart squeeze, butterflies gently brushing their wings along the lining of your stomach. it is a better day now, now that you're with him.

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svftvluv · 2 years

Text

WE WERE FED TODAY. GOD HE LOOKED SO FUCKING GOOD,, ON MY KNEES😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😩😩

#jamie campbell x reader #jamie campbell bower smut #jamie campbell bower #vecna stranger things #001 stranger things #001 x reader #peter ballard x y/n #peter ballard smut #peter ballard #henry creel #stranger things season four

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dobiemart · 2 years

Text

wet dreamz

pairing, edward “eddie” munson, steven “steve” harrington, & peter ballard, henry creel, or 001 x reader (non poly)

summary, general n’ relationship headcanons about the stranger things boys for girlfriends day because i love them so much and want need all of them to marry me.

word count, a lot lmao

byr, ty for all the love on my last peter story!!

im pretty sure i actually cried over the amount of people that actually liked it and enjoyed reading it so thank all of you lovely babes <33

also, can y’all tell these are my big three hahabdnxjshd andd theres an eddie fic coming up next so stay tuned for that

warnings, fluff and nsfw content but no actual smut, swearing, descriptions of body shapes, mentions of voyeurism, oral sex (m and f receiving), overstimulation, hair pulling, breeding kink, cum eating, dry humping (?), slapping, teasing, jealous sex, mentions of squirting, biting/marking, and this being overall filthy with some fine ass men to back it up. no, im not sorry either.

eddie “the freak” munson

sfw

this man really is genuinely a sweetheart.

his uncle raised him incredibly right and he respects everybody for who they are (minus those who chose to toss balls into laundry baskets, of course. it’s what’s killing the kids!)

hes a 10 but cannot cook shit but lukewarm water and pb n j’s. however, he’d try his hardest to make you something to eat if you were hungry.

for my beautiful ladies of color that wear their bonnets without a care, hes snatching it off and will take his ass whooping with pride.

i actually think he takes pretty decent care of his curls, minus a few frizzy clumps and knots. but he washes it with the same 10 in 1 body wash he uses for everything.

yes, eddie is loud and dramatic. no, he does not care. yes, you do love him for it, and no, you will not ever ask him to change cause thats simply who he is.

eddie is super clumsy on his ass every couple of minutes, resulting in you playing nurse and many kiddy bandaids being scattered around his arms and legs.

rubs your lotions, oils, coco butter, and creams onto your skin simply because he loves touching you. and maybe grabbing a handful of that ass- i mean- personality! yeah.

as eddie lovers, we cannot stress this enough. EDWARD MUNSON READS OUT LOUD AND HE WILL READ TO YOU. he has and will forever read you stupid ads from the newspaper to make you smile early in the morning.

he constantly nags you wear his chunky ass rings just to smile like an idiot when they easily slide off your fingers.

eddie loses shit constantly and does the standard spin in a circle and pat your pockets move until he remembers where he put it. and him doing his tongue thing the whole time. (hes so cute please)

though i love this man so much, but i just know he chews with his mouth wide open half the time without even realizing hes doing it.

cleaning up eddie’s room while youre with him just for him to throw some shit on the floor two seconds later and says a simple “what? did i do somethin’ wrong, babe?” when you give him the ‘go get my church belt.’ look.

it doesnt matter if youre shorter, taller, or the same height as him. eddie is stuffing his face in them tibbies when you hug. big or small, flappy or tippy tappy. hes getting a face full without any shame.

speaking of hugs, eddie really reminds me of a puppy in so many ways. he’d sit for a while and let you cuddle up on him, maybe falling asleep if he’s tired enough, but if not, you’d have to switch positions or he’d get up dance around with you if he was his usual ball of energy.

code switches from a grown man to whiney baby when you deny him affection in any type of way. you rejected a kiss ONE TIME and have never tried to pull that shit ever again.

you have to force him to take off that damn hellfire shirt cause he will live laugh love in that fucker until the day he… well… y’know. haha. (still too soon??)

nsfw

i just wanna get this shit out of the way first, edward ja‘quaviontavious munson would fake bang you every single time you bent down to get something. i do not care, eddie stans make the rules. it doesn't matter where you are either. man will grab your hips and slam his into that ass so quick, groaning dramatically while he does it.

on that note, eddie is a simple man. he likes a nice booty, but he also likes a titty or two. then again, he’d never turn down a thigh and tummy special. mf likes EVERY PART of his meal.

he gives switch energy but i really always lean towards a service dom or subby top typa eddie cause pspspspspsps i love him sm.

it does not fucking matter what you look like, what youre wearing, if your makeup and hair is done or not. eddie will get a piece of you whenever he can.

fantasizes about fucking you in the club room on his throne, sometimes with steve watching. (its up to YYYOUUU if you take him up on that you lil nasty freaky bi-)

eddie loves eating you out. when i say LOVES, I MEAN THIS MAN COULD GO AT IT FOR HOURSS ON EEENNDDUGH. 110% gets pussy-drunk too. but you could just give him one more, right baby?

has a thing for your nails scratching behind his ears/the back of his neck, also likes having his neck sucked on and will wear his hickies like a new name brand necklace.

he’s creamed in his boxers once or twice or maybe a couple more times from you grinding on him through his jeans while you made out.

ok ok but his exhuming bottom energy tells me that he’d babble so much while you were riding him. gives very much “you feel s’good baby, please,” and “oh- holy shit, baby! im so-o fucking deep-“ yada yada please fuck me sir and so on.

from the many of pornos hes seen, he’ll look over them and try to learn how to make you squirt. did it work? we’ll never know. (yea.. it did.)

grips onto the bedsheets instead of your hair when you give him head, as to not ruin your hours of precious work you did on your hair the previous night.

but when hes on his dommy wommy shit he loves to have a hand around your throat, squeezing ever so slightly and digging the cold metal of his jewelry into your neck.

wear that damn hellfire shirt and see what happens. if you wanna risk never walking again, do it, bestfriend. (but lets be honest, we’d all snatch up the opportunity to be with that raggedy ass white man ANYDAY.)

along with eddie being the sweetest boy ever, hes the sweetest after sex. he’ll get you whatever you need/want without as much as an inch of hesitation. he's always clingier afterwards, too. so give up any plans you had for that day cause it's time for hours of cuddles with our boy.

steve “the hair” harrington

sfw

also one hell of a sweetheart.

cooks, cleans, takes care of his kids, works, and is a certified baby daddy AND mother all at the same time. mf if you dont just put a ring on him already-

would tie your shoes for you. thats all. thats it. thats a wrap.

he cannot go anywhere without at LEAST two cups of coffee. a mother needs her morning newspaper and her happy juice to feel sane.

random asf but i feel like he has a juicer and will make the most god awful combinations and make you tru them with him haHAHAHHD

buys absolutely anything you want the second you lay a singular eye on it. (woah, y/n.. why are you looking directly at that ring?)

is the typa guy to bring you a new bouquet of flowers every week and would probably eventually get a job there with robin cause of how much he's there anyway.

steve has spidey senses. if theres a mood switch hes gonna know so simply let him cuddle you and hold you and never let you go.

kisses your hands, especially your ring finger. just to make sure you know he’ll eventually make you his forever.

hes the little spoon half the time. i do NOT make these rules y'all it's simply just the truth.

multitasking all the time. he’ll be talking to you and scribbling over the questions dustin got wrong for his english homework, all while making dinner for you two.

steve totally calls you at the video store and twirls the phone cord while he's talking. (robin will never let that shit go. EVER.)

he likes baking in the winter just to sit by the fire with the warm cookies and a contrast of cold milk. also cause winter time cuddles are the best type of cuddles.

mr. harrington as 2 rules in his car. no making chewbacca noises for dustin, and he always has to have a hand holding yours or on your thigh while he drives. (he’ll die without it, y’know.)

has a candy stash he will never tell anybody about, including you until you’re trusted to not take it all.

dies when you play with his hair. ABSOLUTELY dies. man is a tomato. hes R E D. NEON red at that.

again, i love steve so much, but he gives lactose intolerant energy IMSOSORRY

he has delectable taste in music. you get that blondie, bowie, beetles, etc.

stevie knows how to do hair and knows how to do it damn well. oh you want twists? go ahead and get cha pillow, baby. you want braids? hol’ on let me get my comb so we can get to sectioning. you want the normal fro? gir- if you go out with half yo damn head flat he’s finna have a fit.

he gradually moves everything in your room to his house and pretends like he doesn't know why it's at his now.

nsfw

dear lord jesus we’re sinning in the church WE’RE SINNING IN THE DAMN CHURCH.

softest dom in the history of dommingly domming until hes jealous or stressed. we see why yall mfs had six lil’ nuggets after that.

100% loves giving head too. another mf that gets pussy-drunk quick as hell and also babbles while receiving.

does not particularly like hurting you, but a slap or two on that ass wont hurt THAT bad, right? a bite here and there can't be too terrible..

two works. BREEDER. BALLS. also has a fat ass breeding kink and will absolutely pull out the “c’mon baby, please? jus’ wanna see you big and round with my babies- fuckin’ god, imagine your tits- please lemme fill you up,” just to be able to cum in you.

steve absolutely adores your thighs and would happily die between them. he’d also drag his fingertips over your stretch marks whenever he was particularly keen on getting his face in between your legs.

getting plowed in the video store bathroom and on the front counter after they close tee hee

will never admit it, but after one too many orgasms he WILL cry from overstimulation. just imagine the pretty, hot tears running from his eyes while you bounce on him.

hand marks on your hips from how hard he grabs you, practically urging you to cum early.

loves to see your face in missionary n would bury his face in your neck when hes about to cum.

would eat his cum out of you and i simply stand by that. putting my foot down and keeping it flat on the ground for it, in fact.

the sex after a long shift at the store… girl apologize to your parts and kiss her goodbye.

cuddle-fucking in bed before both of you drag yourselves downstairs just to do it again on the couch

ruts his hips into yours while sloppily making out because mm mm mm

loves it when you pull at his hair. literally doesn't matter where he is please pull on it he’ll die

as well as being the king of hawkins, steve is the king of aftercare. he normally always has a change of clothes, a couple of snacks, and a bottle of water near the bed before you even come over. oh, you wanted a bath, too? the water is already running and the bubbles are bubbling.

peter “angel eyes” ballard

sfw

besides literally being trapped in a lab, peter is an incredible man as well. (as incredible as he could be, anyway.)

a true gentleman that helps you in anyway that he can. oh you’re hungry? he’ll sneak in the kitchen and see what he can do. you’re tired? he’ll cover every round he needs to so you can rest.

actually adores you. in every way possible. to him, he’s a god and you’re his goddess. you both reign supreme over everyone and it will forever stay that way.

if he ever could, he tries to celebrate holidays with you. giving you small things that he’s had the children make just to put a smile on your face. even if it would get him into trouble.

peter will always take the blame for you, even if you don’t want him to. it would pain him more to see you even be slightly scolded by papa than it ever would being shocked.

dealing with him being a worry-puss over everything. you could take a step a millisecond slow from your regular pace and he’d be all over you asking if you were sore or hurting.

the definition of a cutie patootie in the morning. his hair no longer in its professional, upkept state, but ruffled all around the white of his pillowcase. his face being slightly flushed and his beautiful blues being put on display in contrast of his monochromatic room. im in love.

loves random talks with you throughout the day. especially ones while you watch over the rainbow room. he’ll gladly listen to whatever you say with an adoring look on his face, simply because he loves your voice and how you speak.

if when you two do escape, peter and you would have a small house away from the louder part of the city. i feel that he’d be a dark academia and minimalistic type of person with his home and clothing.

puts a ring on it as soon as you escape. he said you’d be his forever and he meant it.

peter loves that he gets to be himself with you. not the orderly he was forced to be. his hair was now grown out, a slight bit of stubble on his chin, and his puppy-like smile was brightly flaunted around all day.

likes physical affection, but he loves doing things for you. acts of service is just his thing. bringing you a warm drink in the morning, handing you your bag before you go out, picking you up from work, you name it and he’ll do it for you.

loves to read during his spare time and will read to you if you’re both cuddling while he does it. if it’s a romance/fantasy story, he’ll replace the characters name with his and yours.

picnic dates, café dates, library dates, walks through the forest, sitting by the lake, allll the cute pinterest dates we live laugh love for.

when you show him golden girls for the first time, he’s instantly hooked. you’ll come home from work/school sometimes just to see him cuddled up on the couch with a bunch of snacks and a re-run of his show on the television.

also loves bakeries. please take him there and get him a blueberry muffin or a strawberry cream puff. he’ll be as happy as a kid in a candy store.

he’d totally sing you to sleep too. did i add this only because i heard “dream a little dream of me” and thought of peter again? maybe. are we gonna talk about it? absolutely not.

nsfw

ooo i had to crack my knuckles for this one. TURN THIS SHIT UP!

lets be honest, he’d have absolutely 0 idea of how to do anything once he first started. this is the one thing he’s actually clueless about.

mans gets bricked up over the simplest things. you could inhale and he’d be down tremendously, horrendously, dramatically, terribly bad. but who wouldn’t? its you we’re talking about here.

but peter is literally a baby daddy. so when he learns what you like and how to do, he cannot get his hands off of you.

folds you like play-doh anytime he wants you in a different position. half the time scaring you half to death because you didn't know you could bend like that.

likes to mark you. especially by bite marks. i feel like he has pretty sharp canines and would dig them into your neck while he was biting and sucking on your sweet spot.

personally, i’d love pete’s slim hands around my throat, and i think he’d be more than willing to comply, but that’s just me.

is sweet but also mean at the same time. especially when giving you head. dont get me wrong, he loves to do it, but he also loves to see how frustrated you get when he just wont get to that sweet spot inside of you yet.

motherfucker is long. and he knows he is. so he’ll politely try not to go too hard when you go down on him, but he can’t help it when his hips buck up every now and then. but he sweetly apologizes with a “so-sorry, bunny, i jus’ cant help it, you feel s’good-“

likes to hold your hand most of the time. just seeing your sparkling ring finger in his grasp does something to him, making him into pound you even harder.

titty man. man likes a good titty. simply, a good handful of boob makes everybody feel alright.

peter also loves the idea of breeding you. seeing you full of his cum to the point where it’s spilling out of you makes him wanna do it all over again. he obviously does, and the cycle keeps going.

when you two were in the lab, you’d always have to quickly sneak off for sex. usually ending up in an old storage closet or an infirmary bed when the nurses were on break.

his long, slender fingers being slotted between your lips to lube them up. plus him moaning over this while his cock twitches because he can already imagine how they’ll feel when they’re finally on him.

do not be fooled by his angelic face and gorgeous eyes, he will not hesitate to beat your girly up into SHAPE if he sees you talking with another guy or sees a mouth breathers eyes linger on you for too long. you seriously need to apologize for the abuse you put your kitty through.

how is he at aftercare? simply perfect. at first, he didn’t know what it was, therefore he didn’t think it was very important to do anything of the sort after sex. but after he learns, he’s great at it. he’s your personal butler until you fall asleep and that’s not even the end of it.

hey bestie baes, how yall doin?

i hope youre all doing incredible on this incredible first day of the month.

i love you so so much and all your reblogs, follows, and likes are always appreciated. <3

-coraline :)

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petersprincesss · 2 years

Text

You’re in Trouble Now

Hi again!

This was requested by @marniscoffee on my one-shots of Peter Ballard post. You can find it and make a request here.

I will be responding to all requests and should have them up sometime this week, I will tag you in yours!

I thought someone else requested this exact number and genre as well, so if that was you and I have forgotten to tag you, please forgive me, I couldn’t find it anywhere!

OKAY!

Genre: smut

Rating: R? ig? Explicit? It’s smut, okay?

Tags: dom/sub, dom Peter Ballard, choking, edging, orgasm denial/delay, general kinky shit idk

Smut Below the Cut!

“Is this a game to you, Y/N?” Dr. Brenner quizzed you, bringing his eyes down to your level, your noses less than an inch from touching.

You were seated in a metal chair inside one of the children’s training rooms being scolded by Dr. Brenner for not following his endlessly strict protocol. A single tear slipped from your eye and cascaded down your cheek, your bottom lip curling into an unsettled frown.

“No, sir,” you winced. You were sorry, but only that you had been caught. You didn’t understand why he was so uptight about every miniscule detail.

You heard a click, followed by the creak of the door opening behind you. Peter stepped through the entrance and to the side, careful not to interrupt your interrogation. Your cheeks grew hot as you thought about the idea of him watching you be punished. Your eyes drifted over your shoulder in attempts to find his, but Dr. Brenner grabbed your chin and restricted you to looking only at him.

“I don’t want to hear about anything like this happening ever again, do you understand me?” He spat.

“Yes sir,” you replied submissively.

“Good,” he remarked, letting go of your chin and rising to his full height, “I’ve asked Peter to keep a close eye on you for the time being. We can’t handle any little slip ups, so I want you to rely on his discipline to keep you in check. I advise that you do whatever he recommends without question.”

The air in your lungs was practically sucked out of you. Dr. Brenner had to have known how you pined for Peter. He had to have seen the way you looked into Peter’s cerulean eyes, the way your irises flickered whenever Peter entered a room, or how your chest heaved by merely being close to him. Dr. Brenner had to have known that this was the perfect punishment for you specifically.

“I will, sir,” you promised. Your heartbeat began to crowd the inside of your chest as if it was going to expel itself from behind your ribs.

Dr. Brenner opened the door to exit, remarking to Peter as he passed, “I leave her in your hands now.”

With that, the two of you were now alone. You were finally able to turn around to look at your new overseer, and his apathetic stare did not provide any comfort. Something about his hardened, domineering stance caused your stomach to flutter, your body quivering from more than just your pathetic sobs.

“What did you do?” Peter asked, his tone detached and distant.

“I just- I gave one of the kids-” you began, but your breath hitched under your tears, your dismay of your interaction with your boss weighing too heavily over you.

“Spit it out,” Peter ordered, stepping behind the seat you were perched on, placing his hands on either side of the back of the chair.

“I gave number four a piece of candy,” you sniveled, wiping a tear from your cheek with the sleeve of your cardigan.

“I see. And why don’t we do that?”

“Because only Dr. Brenner is allowed to reward the children.”

“That’s right. You know better,” Peter commended you with a patronizing tone.

“I just felt bad for him because he-” you started to speak, but you were cut off by Peter snatching a fistfull of your hair and yanking it backwards. You closed your eyes in shock, knowing that as soon as you opened them, his sapphire irises would be boring into yours.

“You know the rules. We obey them no matter what.”

“Yes sir,” you responded instinctively.

Peter let out a scoff from behind you and released your hair, allowing your head to bow back forward.

“You know,” he spoke, gliding effortlessly around in front of you, his hands clasped behind his back, “I kind of like hearing you call me sir.”

Your gaze shot up to meet him as he circled to a stop. He was not the sweet and caring orderly you had been working with all this time any longer. He was now your possessor, and the heat growing between your legs confirmed that you wanted nothing more. You craved nothing more than for him to do exactly as he pleased with you.

“That’s how I want you to refer to me from now on. No matter where we are, no matter who can hear you, that’s who I am to you now. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Are you going to be good for me while you’re under my command?” Peter inquired. Although he spoke so matter-of-factly, you felt that he was genuinely asking you, and you knew your response would determine how he would treat you whenever the two of you engaged with one another.

“Yes, sir, I am,” you responded. You felt as though “yes sir” and “no sir” were beginning to make up your entire vocabulary. Under Peter’s control, you didn’t care. You didn’t need any other words.

“That’s my girl. Do you know what good girls get?”

Your fingers kneaded together anxiously, your mind racing with possibilities, lustful desires of what you wanted to get for being Peter’s good girl.

“No sir. Please tell me what good girls get.”

Peter chuckled arrogantly, “I don’t want to tell you. I want to show you. Stand up.”

You obeyed him without question, rising to your feet. The crown of your head lined up perfectly beneath his nose. Turning your face up to him, you felt his heated breath ease down your cheeks.

Peter didn’t waste a costly second putting his palms on your shoulders, guiding you around the chair and backwards against the door he entered from moments earlier. Holding you there firmly, Peter bit his bottom lip, surveying his prized possession. You felt your ribcage expand and compress at a rate that nearly caused concern, but your mind couldn’t stray from the filthy appetite you had worked up.

“If you’re going to be a good girl,” Peter whispered, his lips grazing against your earlobe, “you’re going to have to be very quiet.”

You stifled a moan, biting into your lip with such a force you nearly drew blood. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you nodded, the back of your skull rubbing against the dull, off-white door behind you.

Peter’s hand left your shoulder and trailed down to your knees, his fingertips slowly pulling up the hem of your white skirt. His palm rested flat atop your thigh before it snaked upward, pushing your uniform up and exposing you. He was ready to hook his fingers around your undergarments when he discovered that you weren’t wearing any.

“Y/N?” He said, his touch suddenly frozen. Your stomach dropped, knowing he had discovered your risqué secret.

“Y-yes?” You responded, squeezing your eyes shut tight, an erotic shame piling inside you.

“Are you not wearing any panties?”

“No, sir.”

Peter flashed a naughty grin at you. He knew you wanted to play his game, but he was surprised to discover that you might have been dirtier than he was.

“Such a little slut,” he breathed, struggling to contain his excitement.

Peter brought one hand up to your neck and applied pressure just firmly enough on either side of your neck that your heartbeat thumped in your brain. With his free hand, he reached down and slid his zipper open, removing himself from his pleated white trousers. You smiled at him feverishly, too aroused to play his game of cat and mouse. His hold on your neck shifted as he brought his thumb up to meet your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly.

“Are you ready for me, Y/N?”

“Yes, sir. Please,” you begged.

“Good,” he declared. His hand moved from himself to the back of your thigh, raising it upward so that your skirt rose over your hip bones and allowed him access to your center.

Peter dove into you swiftly, bottoming out on his first thrust. Your spine arched back and your mouth fell agape, ready to release an agonizingly pleasured moan, but you remembered Peter’s demand that you stay silent. You swallowed your expression, releasing a wave of goosebumps down your arms to your fingertips. Peter was larger than you had expected, and your body nearly buckled under his form. Your palm grasped onto his shoulder desperately, your nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck, Y/N” Peter grunted, fighting to keep his composure. Hearing your name leave his lips in such a trance nearly sent you over the edge, and he hadn’t even been inside you for a full minute yet. Your foot lifted, heightening you to resting on the tips of your toes. Peter’s clutch on your opposite leg tensed, pulling you further up onto him. He pushed into you with such intensity, never permitting either of you to question exactly where his priorities lay.

Feeling your tireless efforts to keep yourself open for him, Peter released his grip on your neck and tugged your still-standing leg upwards so that you were now wholly supported by his strength and the pressure of the door pushing against your back. Your ankles crossed behind his back, your heels prodding him like a horse, sheepishly demanding that he keep his pace.

Although not outwardly moaning, your heavy breaths were far from quiet, and the gentle gaps between them provided just enough silence for Peter to hear a pair of footsteps approaching on the opposite side of the door. Peter clasped his hand over your mouth, hurriedly muffling your aching breaths and dropping your leg back to the floor.

“Not a fucking peep, you understand me?” Peter directed. A vein in his forehead made itself visible between his once compassionate brows.

You nodded in response, your eyes widening before rolling back into your head, feverishly flickering your vision. The footsteps grew and receded briskly. The passer-by may not have heard your sensual groans, but it would be hard for anyone to ignore the rattling of the door that Peter hastily pounded you into. Once he was certain the presence was gone, Peter released your lips and you gulped for air salaciously. His mouth dove for your neck, nibbling skillfully at your pulse. With his mouth in such close proximity to your ear, his greedy huffs ringing through your brain.

“Sir, I’m going to-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Peter threatened before biting into your neck.

“Y- yes, si-”

“You better fucking ask for permission before you do.”

You could feel Peter straining inside you. The mere mention of you reaching climax only edged him further to his own.

“Please, sir, please! I need to cum.”

“I know you do, baby. Cum with me. Now.”

Peter’s empty hand clamped around your ribcage before skimming up your chest, kneading your rounded flesh. Between the building pressure in your abdomen, his eager consumption of your pulse and the iron tight grasp on your chest, you slipped briskly over the edge without question.

“God, fucking-” you seethed between your teeth, your chest convexing up towards the ceiling.

Peter made no attempts to conceal his satisfaction, primal, guttural moans flowing from him without hesitation.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N” he panted as he slowed, his hips jerking at random, uncontrolled intervals.

You reached up and tenderly cupped his face in your hand, your fingertips traveling up towards his sweat-drenched forehead. His climax reaching an end, Peter planted a dainty kiss on the tip of your nose. Nothing mattered in this moment except for the blonde orderly before you, still caressing your tired figure.

“You know, you should piss off Dr. Brenner more often,” he smirked. You couldn’t help but smile back, drunk on his effortless eroticism.

“I just might have to now.”

#peter ballard #peter ballard x reader #peter ballard x y/n #peter ballard x you #peter ballard smut #001 #001 x you #001 x reader #001 x y/n #001 smut #henry creel #henry creel x reader #henry creel x you #vecna #stranger things #jamie bower #jamie campbell bower #fics #my work

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