#Peter Vincent fanfic

[denaliwrites]

Fixed Up to the Nines

Peter Vincent x GN!Reader

Catch & Release Prompt: "Tie"

Summary: Peter needs a little help with something.

Soundtrack: Suit & Tie by Justin Timberlake

Requests: Open!

Warnings: You're gonna be disappointed.

You weren't really sure how Peter figured out you knew how to tie a tie, but you supposed you couldn't blame him for coming to you for the task.

It wasn't like he wore fancy tuxes often (or at all), and his Fright Night costume didn't really leave much room for ties. In fact, his whole general aesthetic didn't leave room for them.

It was just his luck, then, that he'd gotten invited to a fancy charity gala, to be held in the same hotel he did his show in. And it was just his luck they'd require formal attire -- even going so far as to specify that he could not show up in costume... or in leather.

So there you stood, already dressed and ready to go, with Peter grumbling and glaring a hole into the back of your head through the mirror behind you.

"Stop fidgeting," you admonished him gently, fingers losing their hold as he jerked away from them. "I can't do your tie if you keep moving away, asshole."

"Oi, don't call me an arsehole, bitch."

"Then stop fucking moving."

He was a wiry man, not really designed for stillness. He managed it when you asked -- or, really, demanded -- but even as you quickly and masterfully worked to do his tie, you could feel his tense energy building up.

"I am almost done," you growled in warning, shooting him a look.

"I'm not even doing anything!"

"I can feel you practically vibrating."

He made a noncommital noise in the back of his throat, but you could still feel his antsiness underneath your fingers.

After what felt like a decade but was realistically only a minute at most, you finally finished up his tie. Almost instantly, Peter was a blur of motion, only just waiting for you to be done before he tore away, practically bouncing with all the pent-up energy of the last minute.

"God, that was torture!" he all but shouted as he hurried to the bar.

You sighed and followed him. "Don't drink too much -- there'll be champagne and cocktails at the event."

"Oh, I know."

You groaned, face dropping into your hands. "Peter, please. This is for charity."

You barely heard his approach, but definitely felt his hand on your hip, giving it a light squeeze. "Fuck charity," he purred, taking a swig of his Midori with a wink. "But for you? Fine. I can lay off for a bit."

You were confused because getting him to do basically anything for you was a struggle. But you were also relieved and weren't about to look this gift horse in the mouth.

"Are you ready, then?" you asked.

He threw the rest of the Midori back and nodded. "As I'll ever be, darling."

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

prompt from @scealaiscoite

prompt: "please, i'm begging you. don't make me watch the nightmare before christmas again."

tags: @illiana-mystery, @fangsandroses, @onedirectionlovers2014

warnings: swearing, drinking

“Peter!” I yelled as Charley and Amy curled up on the other couch. “Get your ass in here!”

“give me a second asshole!” Peter yelled back, making the other couple laugh. “You’re making me carry all the fucking food. Least you could do is help!” Laughing, I stood up. Amy laughed as I slowly started to walk to where Peter was. “Fina-fucking-ly.” Peter laughed when I appeared on the doorway. I flipped him off as I grabbed the drinks and what I could of the food.

“Damn. Those kids sure eat a lot.” I laughed as we carried everything to the living room. “Alright. Foods on the table don’t kill us trying to get it. AH!” I screamed as charley lunged for the popcorn bowl, making amy laugh as she grabbed a drink from the other pile. “Fucking piranhas.” I muttered as I sat down next to Peter. He laughed as the younger couple settled in.

“what are we watching?” Peter asked.

“nightmare before Christmas.” Amy said, earning an eye roll from both males. Charley and Peter shared a look before turning towards their respective partners. Charley was talking to Amy in a hushed tone while Peter raised his eyebrows at me.

“darling, I love you. You know I do.” He took my hands and rubbed his thumbs over my knuckles. “But please, I’m begging you. Don’t make me watch nightmare before Christmas again.” I smiled softly at him.

“Pete, it’s not for me. Amy has never seen it and this is her pick.” I explained. Peter looked over at the other couple arguing and nodded. “After that you can pick whatever you want. I don’t care if it’s the bloodiest, most violent movie ever made. But please. Let her have this.” Peter nodded again.

“alright.” He whispered. “But this is the last time. After this, you have no excuses.” I nodded and Peter looked over at the younger couple. He whistled to get Charley’s attention. “Hey chuck! Drop it. We’re watching it.” Charley opened his mouth to say something but Peter gave him a look that made Charley nod. Amy looked over at us and smiled in thanks. “You know you owe me for this right?” Peter whispered in my ear as the movie started.

“yeah.” I whispered back. “That slutty Halloween costume you wanted me to wear to the hard rock party? How about I wear it just for you?” Peters eyes lit up and he nodded before kissing me.

“that’ll cover your debt.” He smiled at me before settling in to watch the movie.

[denaliwrites]

Emptiness to Melody

Peter Vincent x GN!Reader

Summary: Peter finds out your dirty little secret.

Soundtrack: To Noise Making (Sing) by Hozier

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Shower Karaoke.

You know what wasn't on your bingo card for the day? Hell, for the whole fucking year? Your goddamn menace of a boyfriend sneaking into the bathroom mid-shower and giving you a nearly fatal shock when the curtain suddenly snapped open. The lyric you'd been right in the middle of singing cut off abruptly into a screech.

To your infinite rage, when the shock wore off and you finally actually saw said boyfriend, he was wearing the biggest shit-eating smirk you'd ever seen on him.

"Peter!" you shrieked, grabbing your shampoo bottle and chucking it right at that stupid smug grin.

He easily batted it out of the way. The asshole.

Still fuming, you turned away from him, glaring at the wall.

"What do you want, dick?" you asked in a surprisingly -- and deceptively -- level voice.

He caught on. He had to have. There was no way he couldn't hear the concealed hostility. Yet when he spoke, he sounded smug as ever.

"I didn't know you can sing."

You laughed. "Me? Sing? Please -- I couldn't catch a tune if it slapped my ass and called me Susan."

Peter made that sound in his throat that you, presently, hated to admit you loved. "W--well," he said as he very obviously attempted to choke back a laugh. "That... that whole sentence aside. You, uh, clearly can catch a tune, 'cause the only person I've heard sing My Heart Will Go On as well as you is Celine herself."

Your eyes widened as a deep scarlet blush covered your cheeks and neck. "You don't have to lie--"

"Bitch, when have I ever lied to you?" he asked, deadpan.

Well, he did have a point there. Insulting the people he loved was Peter Vincent's love language -- if you were a bad singer, he'd definitely have many things to say about it (none of them good, necessarily, but all of them affectionate, at least).

You turned to face him slowly, shyly, still blushing like crazy. He tutted softly at the sight of it.

"Are you almost done in here, love?" he asked gently.

"Not really," you answered honestly.

"Well, why don't I go off and lurk and pretend this never happened, and you go back to singing your little heart out? And you can pretend I'm not here, and I can enjoy your lovely voice. And then, when you get out, I will cuddle the fuck out of you."

You liked that plan. A lot.

When you returned to your singing after Peter carefully retreated from the shower, you did it with a smile and a new sense of pride.

[denaliwrites]

Howl Like an Animal in the Darkness

Peter Vincent x GN!Reader

Catch & Release Prompt: "Mutation"

Summary: Who knew vampires had just as much genetic diversity as humans? Not Local Vampire Expert Peter Vincent, apparently.

Soundtrack: It Remembers by Every Time I Die

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Canon-Typical Monster Fucking.

"Since when do these fuckers come with wings!?" Peter growled as he tried to line up a shot. It wasn't going quite how he wanted it to.

You thought vampires were quick on land? Well, the two of you were finding out pretty quickly that once they were airborne the already difficult task of catching them became nearly impossible.

"I dunno," you replied honestly, sneaking his flask of holy water from his pocket as you slipped by. "But they're kinda doing it for me."

Peter blinked stupidly a few times, standing in bewildered silence for a moment. Even the vampire looked stunned, giving you a look that maybe communicated a little too clearly that it thought it might lose brain cells feeding from you.

With both of them distracted and the vampire finally hovering relatively still in the air, you were able to pretty easily douse the damned thing in holy water. It crashed, shrieking, to the ground.

Peter startled, eyes tearing away from you to glance at the writhing creature before him. "Oh. Right." He pulled the trigger on his crossbow, and a moment later the haunting death call of a vampire filled the air.

Ignoring the dying monster, Peter turned to you, his expression still shocked. "Really? Wings do it for you?"

"What?" you said with a light shrug. "There's a certain allure to vampires. And wings are neat."

"No, no, that's -- you don't get to act all casual about this," he groused, pointing at the creature dissolving into ash. "Would you fuck that thing?"

"I'm not an idiot, Vincent, of course I wouldn't fuck a flying vampire."

"No? Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I don't have a death wish. Well, not that big of a death wish... well..."

He was blinking in stunned silence again.

"The point is, I will not be fucking a vampire, winged or otherwise, any time soon. I will, however, maybe be fantasizing about a sexy winged vampire in the shower tonight."

"Oh, I'll fuck that fantasy right out of that pretty head of yours."

[denaliwrites]

Parade of Dancing Skeletons

Peter Vincent x GN!Reader

Summary: Peter takes it upon himself to scare the kids that come to his door for trick-or-treating. The kids aren't impressed -- and you find this hilarious.

Soundtrack: The Greatest Show Unearthed by Creature Feature

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Jumpscares. :)

You opened the door to see a little Batman, a little wizard, and a little vampire waiting patiently on the other side. "Trick or treat!" they said (mostly) in unison, holding out their little pails and bags.

"Oh, aren't you the cutest," you said, kneeling down on your haunches to be eye level with them and holding out the candy bowl for them to make their selections.

From behind you, the sudden sound of a loudly growled "RRRRAAAAAA!" exploded from the dark. Instead of fear, though, the kids simply looked up, looked at each other, and giggled.

You turned to throw a brief amused glance over your shoulder before your attention returned to the kids.

"Happy Halloween!" they all said together.

Smiling, you gave a gentle wave as they started pulling away. "Happy Halloween!"

The door closed with a soft click behind you. Peter was waiting for you just a pace or two back, holding his "terrifying" werewolf mask in his hands.

"Why aren't they scared?" he asked dejectedly.

You pulled him into a loving kiss, though there was no getting rid of the smirk you wore at his expense. "Have you considered, Peter, that you're just not really all that scary?"

"What?" he asked in mock offense. "I -- I'm terrifying! And the mask -- scariest thing I've ever seen."

"Babe, it's the only piece of the costume you bought. The rest of you looks like a totally normal guy. That's not scary -- to anyone. Let alone kids."

He was about to protest but was interrupted by the doorbell.

"Hold that thought," you told him as you turned to the door. You heard him slinking back into the shadows as you opened it, heard the creak of your floorboards as you knelt down to talk to the kids, heard the big roar from behind you as the kids laughed.

He sighed and tore the mask off again while the latest batch of children walked away. "Maybe you're right."

"Only maybe?" you challenged, throwing him a look over your shoulder.

"Okay, fine, you're absolutely right. Better?"

Your smile was very self-satisfied, but you were prevented from saying anything by the sound of tiny footsteps on the front steps.

A little girl, barely older than five (if that, even), toddled up and gave you a big smile. "Trick or treat!"

"Why, hello Princess Jasmine," you greeted her as you held out the candy bowl for her. You heard Peter creeping up behind while she dug around for a candy she liked, and before you could warn the poor thing, that roar ripped out of his throat and she jumped so hard you thought she might burst out of her own skin.

Fat teardrops pooled in her eyes, and both you and her parents rushed in to provide some comfort. You were closer, and even after taking the time to set the candy bowl down your hands were still wrapped around hers comfortingly before her parents had even made it up the steps.

"Oh, you poor thing," you cooed, "that wasn't very nice, was it?" She shook her head as she sobbed. "Don't mind my boyfriend -- he's mean. See, he doesn't like princesses," you told her conspiratorily.

This caught her attention enough to stop the wailing, though you could still see some silent tears falling. "He doesn't? Why not?"

"Well, he used to be in love with a princess," you continued, leaning in close, though you made sure he could hear you. "But she loved someone else. So now he hates princesses, and he scares them any chance he gets as revenge."

It wasn't the smoothest story, but luckily it didn't need to be to capture a five-year-old's imagination. Her Disney-filled brain easily accepted the explanation and probably even filled in some gaps with princess movie cliches along the way. Her eyes were wide as she looked up first to you, then to Peter, still lurking by the door, and finally her parents.

"Here," you said, letting go of her hands to pick up the candy bowl again. "If you take two or three candies, he'll be so mad that he'll disappear."

The girl gleefully accepted this, grabbed, by your count, six candies (not that this was a problem, she probably didn't know how to count and you had plenty either way), and went on her way.

You closed the door with a sigh and moved to stand. As you turned, Peter pinned you to the door, a thoughtful look on his face.

"You're good with them," he finally said, tilting his head.

"Huh?"

"The kids. You're good with them. I just... I didn't expect it. You've never mentioned... kids."

You blinked. "Oh. Er. Yeah. I guess. Kids are cool, sometimes. Their excitement for Halloween is infectious..."

"Do you want kids?"

You weren't really prepared for this line of questioning and blinked up at him with owlish eyes. "Er... I mean, I guess, maybe? Someday? I never... thought about it."

He hummed thoughtfully before pulling away. A moment later, the doorbell rang. "I'm gonna go grab us something to eat. Should be past curfew by the time I get back."

"Pumpkin chocolate milkshake?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said with a kiss to your cheek. "And two orders of fries."

"Thanks, babe."

"When I get back we're watching a scary movie," he said, pointing to you. "You promised."

He opened the door, and was immediately greeted by a small army of children crying "Trick or treat!"

The look on his face as he tried to wind through them was priceless.

[denaliwrites]

I'm So Hot I'd Fuck Myself

Peter Vincent x Fem!Reader

Part 1: I'm Starvin', Darlin', Let Me Put My Lips to Somethin'

Summary: (18+) Peter can't resist you once you put on your Halloween costume.

Soundtrack: I'm So Hot by Chrissy Chlapecka

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Filthy, filthy smut.

See, the thing was, you had seen that "what if Peter Vincent was a woman" fanart, too. He wasn't as slick as he thought he was, buying you that sexy female version of his Fright Night costume. You knew exactly where the fuck he was going with it before he ever said "I can't wait to fuck you in this."

You just didn't particularly mind.

And why would you, when he fucked you so good?

"Go get changed," Peter said the moment you stepped foot back in the penthouse, his voice unusually commanding. You could hear the thick trickle of desperation tightening his throat, and when you threw your eyes down, you could see that his jeans were getting tighter.

Oh, he'd been thinking about this the whole way back. The realization hit home and your core at the same time and it sent a nice little jolt of electric pleasure down your spine.

Without a word, you made your way to the master bathroom to get changed.

"And put my wig on!" Peter called after you.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, Peter was waiting for you on the bed, disrobed but for... well, a robe. His black silk one. You watched him from the doorway, and he watched you from the bed.

"God, you look... well, like me," he finally said, voice husky. Even without your eyes dancing downward you could tell he was probably the hardest he'd ever been. "You're so fucking hot, darling."

You smiled as you made your way to the bed. He watched as you wasted no time in crawling onto it, onto him, easily coming to straddle his slinky hips. Once you were settled, his hands trailed from your knees on a journey upwards, ending with a grip on the flesh just below where your thighs met your ass.

With his hands guiding you, your hips rolled, and the two of you moaned together as the friction sent a wave of pleasure through you both.

Peter was panting as you did it again with little encouragement. For your efforts, his thumbs curled around the fronts of your thighs, teasing at the edges of your lingerie. Another grind of your hips earned you his thumbs seeking your folds, delicately stroking your slit as you whimpered above him.

"Oh, that's it, doll," he purred, sinking a thumb in and homing in on your clit. He was gentle as he circled the nub, building your pleasure slowly. "God, you're gorgeous. You look so beautiful like this."

You whimpered in response, giving your hips a flick that netted you a moan from Peter. Looking down at him you smirked, doing it again to similar effect. "I'd look better with your cock inside me," you teased lightly.

"Oh, I know you would," he agreed with a growl emanating from somewhere deep in his throat. "But you've got a ways to go before you're ready for that."

His thumb danced around your clit again, and as it did he finally brought the other one forth, using it to tease at your entrance. You moaned, your walls flexing on nothing as your pleasure grew.

"That's it, darling," he praised you gently, as your hips desperately bucked into his ministrations. "Cum for me, darling."

It took little more encouragement than that for you to reach your peak. You let out a soft cry as you went rigid, walls contracting and feeling the rush of fluid Peter was no doubt waiting for.

He brought you down gently, easing you into that post-orgasm haze. You knew it wouldn't last long because he was about to fuck your brains out and make you cum again. But he was being kind by giving you a break. You appreciated it.

You let out a whimper as his hands withdrew from you. Foggily, you registered that he was sitting up, that his arms were wrapping around you and holding you close.

"Oh, you really are in a state, aren't you?" he asked in a deep chuckle, his lips grazing over your neck. You simply whined in response.

With his hands occupied, you took it upon yourself to reach down and brush your panties to the side so that Peter could enter you, and you took it upon yourself to find his cock, to guide it to your entrance.

You felt his moan as much as you heard it. Grinning, you lightly ran your fingers along his length.

"You're such a tease," he growled, thrusting up and missing the mark. It didn't matter, though, it still made you gasp. "I want my fucking cock inside you."

You didn't need him to say anymore, you were already on it even as he was speaking. Right as the last word left his lips, you finally guided him home, and you both moaned as he was enveloped in your depths.

"Oh, God, Peter," you panted, nails biting into his shoulder. "Fucking finally."

"Oi, shut up, bitch! You could've done that straight away!"

Despite his words, you could see in his eyes he was quite delighted to be fucking you, that spark of admiration and affection unmissable no matter how hard he tried to pretend it wasn't there.

"Big words for a man who decided to fuck me in the best position for me to get up and walk away whenever I want," you teased, lifting your hips off of his, leaving only his head inside you.

His grip on you tightened, keeping you locked like that. "You wouldn't."

"Peter, let me go."

It wasn't a real command -- you both knew it. Both knew you'd never. It was a test, and you were satisfied the moment his arms dropped away from you, allowing you freedom should you choose to take it.

But your freedom was in him, in the way he loved you and fucked you. So instead of leaving, you lowered yourself onto his cock, relishing in the absolute adoration in his eyes.

Wordlessly, his arms came back to wind around you, holding you firm and safe.

His mouth found your clavicle, lightly nipping the flesh there before he trailed downward, light kisses peppered over your skin until he reached the swell of your breasts.

"Oh, isn't this beautiful," he sighed as one of his hands shifted to cup the breast. "I could drown myself in these." He laid a few more kisses to them before his hand worked your costume and bra down so that they were exposed in full.

His tongue swiped over your nipple, sending a shock right through to your core. Your walls contracted, and he grinned. "Oh, should I do that again?" he asked tauntingly.

"Please," you begged breathlessly, your hold on his shoulders tightening. "Please, do it again."

He acquiesced, his mouth easily returning to the bud like his life depended on it. You all but wailed as pleasure flooded you.

"Oh, God, Peter."

"Don't you dare cum yet, you little slut," he growled into your breast.

"I-I won't," you only just managed to whimper.

But you were excruciatingly close. You weren't sure how much longer you could last, and you needed him to hurry the fuck up.

He thrust up into you a few more times, and you noticed with delight that he was rushing, erratic.

"I'm so close, Peter," you told him, your walls squeezing his cock as if to prove your point.

He didn't answer you, too lost in chasing his own orgasm. You didn't mind. Each thrust brought you closer, each swipe of his tongue or pull of his teeth sent more warm pleasure down into the pool building in the pit of your stomach. And you could feel that well starting to overflow.

"O-oh, fuck, Peter," you moaned, as his final thrust sent you over the edge. Your cunt tightened around his twitching length, the warmth he was releasing into you only heightening your orgasm. You let out twin cries in release, your grips on each other crushing you to each other.

And then, it was over.

He was the first to give, his arms dropping away from you as he collapsed back down into the plush duvet, panting breaths filling the otherwise silent air.

You managed to stay upright a little longer, turning to look out at the sparkling lights of the Vegas strip, gasping pants rattling through your chest.

"Fuck," Peter said.

"Yeah," you replied.

And then you let yourself collapse on top of him, all but melting into his chest. His arms, tired as they were, came up to pull you closer. At this rate, the two of you could probably meld together.

"Fuck, I'm hot. I'd fuck myself."

"Again?" you asked in a breathy chuckle, shifting your head to look up at him.

"Well," he started, conceding with a light shrug, "give me about half an hour."

[denaliwrites]

I'm Starvin', Darlin', Let Me Put My Lips to Somethin'

Peter Vincent x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Peter argue over what costumes you should wear.

Part 2: I'm So Hot I'd Fuck Myself

Soundtrack: Eat Your Young by Hozier

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Peter Vincent's Love Language Is Insulting The People He Cares About.

"How ironic do you think it'd be for me to go as a sexy vampire queen?" you ask, turning and holding the costume up to your chest so that Peter can get an idea of what it would look like on you.

"I think," he says, wrapping an arm around your waist, "that you'll be sexy no matter what, so you can go ahead and cut that out of the title."

You blush, putting the costume back on the rack hurriedly.

"We need something that really accentuates your tits," he comments suddenly, looking down at your chest. "Don't get me wrong, they're gorgeous enough already, but you need something that really makes them... pop."

"I think they'll do that anyway, Peter," you sigh, holding up the pushup bra you'd already selected, for just that purpose.

"Well, yeah," he agrees, "but they could always pop more."

You roll your eyes, returning your attention to the rack to look through the other costumes they had. "I could be a nurse."

"God, no," he groans. "You're too beautiful to go in something so... basic."

"Fine, fine... how about this?" you ask, holding up another costume. "I could be a satanic cheerleader."

"I love you, and love means never letting your girlfriend go as a cheerleader for Halloween."

Snorting, you return the costume to its place and pick up another one. "Playboy bunny?"

"No."

You sigh, grabbing another costume. "Devil?"

"Ooh, maybe."

"Really?" you ask, about ready to grab it and run to the register.

"No."

"Goddamnit, Peter."

You go through a nun costume, a pirate costume, and a costume that looks suspiciously like the Little Mermaid, before desperately holding up one last costume. "If this is a no, we're going to another store."

"You want to be a sexy Pennywise?"

"What?" You look at the costume, then groan in exasperation. "I mean, no, but if you say yes I'll wear it."

"I..."

"Oh, you can't be serious. This one is a yes? Seriously?"

He looks so genuinely into it for a moment, before he breaks out into a smug grin. "Of course not, put it back."

You want to kill him. You actually might. You have a bra on hand. You have two, actually, if you include the one you haven't bought yet. You could choke a man to death with two bras, yeah?

"What about this one?" he asks, holding a costume up.

"You... I'm sorry. You want me to dress up as you?"

"Well, a sexy lady version."

You sigh, dropping your face into your hands. "The internet is gonna go wild."

He smirked. "Oh, don't I know it. Can't wait to fuck you in it."

[denaliwrites]

Make Me Glow

Peter Vincent x Fem!Reader

Summary: Peter always knows just what you need when your period is making you absolutely miserable.

Soundtrack: Heart Attack (Rock Version) by Demi Lovato

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Periods, Cramps. Use of Bitch as a Term of Endearment. Taking medication.

If there was one thing you were grateful for in Peter's penthouse, it was the giant luxury bath he'd insisted on having installed. You didn't typically use it, but sometimes it was just what you needed.

Especially on your period.

You moaned when you made contact with the water, sinking slowly into the delicious heat and watching the tendrils of steam dance as your descent into the water sent ripples across the surface.

You wanted to cry at the near-instant relief you felt as the warmth surrounded you, drastically easing your aches with each passing second. You wished you could stay in the bath forever.

For a few minutes, you simply lay in the water, letting your mind go blissfully blank once your pain was relieved enough that you could take your mind off it.

But that was boring, and you only had so much time before Peter got back, so you grabbed the remote from the shelf behind you and clicked on the TV mounted on the wall in front of you -- that one had been your idea -- and flipped the channels until you settled on an episode of I Love Lucy.

It wasn't your typical choice, but right now you just wanted to pretend real problems didn't exist.

You didn't realize you'd fallen asleep until you were jolted awake by an annoyed voice emanating from somewhere nearby.

"I swear," Peter was saying, and your drowsy eyes finally found him standing in front of the mirror, peeling his false goatee off. "Oh, now she's awake!" he growled, seeing your eyes on him through the mirror. "Missed my whole rant, lazy bitch."

When he saw the hurt look in your eyes, he visibly deflated. "Oh, darling," he sighed, leaving the mirror to kneel at your side. "What's wrong?"

"Period," you said simply with a despondent shrug.

"Oh, dear," he cooed, petting your hair for a moment. His hand dipped into the water, no doubt checking the temperature, before withdrawing it with a low whistle. "Darling, that water is freezing. Let's get you out of there."

You nodded, letting him help you up and out of the tub. He pulled the plug, turned off the TV, and grabbed the towel you'd put in the warmer before you'd gotten into the bath. It was wrapped snugly around your waist with a kiss to the top of your head.

"There you are," he said soothingly. "Let's get you out of here, yeah?" You nodded, and he shepherded you to the bedroom, where you were pushed gently onto the plush duvet.

He could tell that your pain was returning by a strained whimper that escaped your best attempts to withhold it, and by the way you clutched at your belly.

"Oh, darling," he sighed, kissing your head again. "I'll be back, you get settled in."

You nodded, and then he was off again. While he was away, you unwrapped the towel from around yourself and carefully slid under the covers of the bed. They were warm, but you missed the bath. You wished you could go back in.

You'd take another one tomorrow, you decided.

Peter sauntered back into the room holding a glass of water in one hand and a tub of your favorite ice cream in the other. "Water and pills first," he told you, handing off the glass and two Advil into your waiting hands.

Dutifully, you took a sip of the water and downed the pills, then downed the rest of the water in one go.

"Oh, good girl," he praised you, sounding genuinely impressed. He held the ice cream out to you, and you snatched it up eagerly, as well as the spoon he'd placed over the lid.

"Now, do you want to watch a bunch of idiot teens get killed in increasingly terrible ways?" he asked you, settling into the bed behind you. He was over the covers, you realized when you noticed that you couldn't immediately feel his body heat, and that his skin wasn't touching yours.

"That sounds good," you whimpered with a nod.

He put on Friday the 13th, and you happily dug into your ice cream while the two of you watched the movie.

[denaliwrites]

Late Night Devil Put Your Hands On Me

Peter Vincent x GN!Reader

Summary: (18+) Peter likes choking you. That's it, that's the plot.

Soundtrack: Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Choking, Daddy Kink, Thigh Riding, Use of Bitch, Whore, Slut, etc. as Terms of Endearment. You're a Hot Mess and He's Falling For You.

"Doesn't my hand make such a pretty necklace around your throat, whore?" Vincent asked you, using that hand to manipulate your head, forcing you to look at your reflection in the window beside you. "You're such a pretty little slut for me."

While you were distracted, he bounced his knee roughly up between your thighs, and the moan that followed was so loud it echoed off the walls.

"Oh, that's a good whore," he praised you. When he turned your head back to face him, he was smirking delightedly. "Aren't you so good for Daddy?"

"Y-yes," you panted, your hands jolting up to clutch his forearm when he squeezed your throat. "Yes!" you said again, louder, practically wailing the word.

He rewarded you by gripping your hip with his free hand and rolling it against his thigh. You kept your eyes on him, saw the shift when you moaned his name.

"Are you gonna cum for me, little slut? Gonna cum for Daddy?"

You whimpered wordlessly as he rolled your hips again, feeling heat pooling in the pit of your stomach.

"I need you to say it, bitch. Say you're gonna cum for me."

The threat in his voice sent a thrill down your spine, right into the building pleasure between your legs. Each squeeze of his fingers, each pull on your hips, each breathy chuckle of his that brushed over your skin sent you closer to the edge.

"I-I'm gonna," you gasped, feeling your orgasm growing ever nearer. "Daddy, I'm gonna cum..." You were so breathless, so lost in pleasure that you could only manage your words at just above a whisper.

Vincent seemed to think that was good enough, seemed to understand it was all he'd be able to get out of you. He laughed, the sound surrounding you, as he rolled your hips over his thigh one last time and you came undone, chanting his name like a prayer as your orgasm tore through you.

Your throat wasn't released until you'd fully come down, letting you go so that his arms could wrap lovingly around your waist as you collapsed against his chest.

"That's a good little slut," he murmured in your ear. "So good for Daddy, aren't you?"

[denaliwrites]

Talk So Pretty

Peter Vincent x GN!Reader

Summary: (18+) You accidentally discover one of Peter's kinks.

Soundtrack: Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Choking, Use of "Slut" as a Term of Endearment, A Semi-Innocuous Prompt Going Smutty. Again.

It's just that Peter's such a whore? Impossible not to write him smutty.

Requests: Open!

You hadn't meant to say it. It just slipped out, unbidden, as Peter's hand closed around your throat and a particularly deep thrust had you moaning out,

"Oh, yes, Daddy!"

He froze above you, staring down with his head tilted like a dog who'd just heard a toy squeak. You felt him twitch inside you, and his fingers around your neck moved in tandem with his cock.

He seemed... confused.

"I'm so sorry," you whimpered. His hand tightened, effectively silencing you.

"Daddy?" he asked. "Really?"

You nodded, your gaze a touch fearful as you stared up at him.

He pulled back, grinning in delight at the desperate keen that spilled from your lips as he withdrew himself from your depths. "I think I like that," he growled, before he pressed himself back into you, torturously slow.

"D-daddy, please," you whined, hips rolling impatiently, needily trying to coax more of him inside you. "Please."

"Oh, I don't think that's good enough," he said mockingly. "I'm gonna need you to speak up for Daddy." You glared up at him, and in return, he gave your throat a warning squeeze. "Tell Daddy what you want, slut."

"Please," you begged, desperate tears in your eyes. "please fuck me, Daddy. I'm so..."

"Yes?"

"I need it so bad, I need you to fuck me!"

"And why would you need me to fuck you, little slut?" he asked affectionately, pulling you up by the throat so that you were face to face. Your quivering arms struggled to keep you upright.

You sobbed as his cock finally buried inside you, one shaking hand lifting to entangle itself in his wild hair, holding on for dear life.

He moaned at your tight grip, wild eyes meeting yours as he smirked. "You haven't answered me. I'm not moving again until you do."

"Please, Daddy, I want to cum..."

Your voice was quiet, maybe too quiet, because Vincent's expression didn't change.

"Please, Daddy, make me cum," you all but wailed in response to his silence. He gave you a thrilled smirk and snapped his hips forward and back so quickly your mind barely processed it. Your body, however, reacted rather wantonly.

"Daddy's gonna make you cum so many times, you beautiful little slut."

[denaliwrites]

Night of Long Fangs

Peter Vincent x Fem!Reader

Summary: (18+) You accidentally get sprayed with (fake) blood during rehearsals and Vincent has a... reaction.

Soundtrack: The Night of Long Fangs by Mikolai Stroinski

Warnings: Blood, in a vampire way, but then also in a kinky way. Smut Adjacent. Not really a Virgin Kink, but like. Mentions of it. Light choking. The absolute devastation that is the fact that I couldn't find a gif of Peter Vincent saying "I'm gonna pop your cherry."

Requests: Open!

You shouldn't have even been in range of the damned spray -- you'd been carefully placed on the stage specifically to avoid it. You were meant to be the virginal sacrifice, pure and dressed in pristine, glowing white. It wasn't meant to be tarnished until the end of the second act, and only by incredibly specific dyes designed not to stain.

"Cut!" you heard the sharp yell, but it was hard to focus when you could feel and see that you looked like a victim of Michael Myers.

Vincent walked over to you, looking... well, you couldn't quite decipher the expression he wore. He looked annoyed, somewhat, but you knew it wasn't at you. You'd done nothing wrong. He may have a sharp temper, but even he had to know it wasn't your fault, right?

Even through your attempts to convince yourself, you were surprised when he spoke and it wasn't filled with frustration or worse.

"Are you okay?" he asked instead, and you noted that his voice seemed oddly... choked? Strained?

"I... yeah. It's... it's, y'know, harmless... but thanks for asking." You gave him a smile that you hoped wasn't too obviously dismissive, while still trying to hint that he could leave now if he wanted.

Instead, his hands came up to your shoulders, brushing red-soaked strands of hair back to fall limply down your back. Those hands hovered, little more than a hair's breadth away from touching you. You could feel their heat, warming your mostly bare skin.

"M-Mister Vincent," you stammered.

He shushed you gently. "Just Vincent is fine."

"Vincent," you tried again.

He shushed you again. "May I?"

"May you what?" you asked him, staring up at him with wide eyes.

"Do this." Without another word, he carefully ushered you behind the stage, away from any wandering eyes. You realized very quickly that he'd herded you to a quiet corner, where the two of you were utterly alone. You couldn't hear anything from the stage, or from backstage, or outside. It was like you were in a bubble.

"Vincent..." you gasped, as his hands sought out your breasts, made fuller by the pushup bra you were forced to wear with your costume. You didn't stop him, and the moment his hands made blessed contact you whimpered.

"You look so beautiful," he moaned, leaning forward, effectively pinning you to the wall. He nuzzled into your throat, breathing deep before his tongue struck out, leaving a long smear of red where a big globule of the fake blood had landed and half-dried.

A shiver ran down your spine, and a quaking moan escaped your lips.

"Oh, make that sound for me again, love," he purred, his hands circling your neck and spreading the red all over. You moaned again as he squeezed, ever so slightly, and he let out a breathy chuckle in delight. "Oh, does the pretty little 'virgin' like being choked?"

You couldn't respond -- not verbally, anyway -- because one of his hands wrapped so snugly around your throat, while the other trailed ever downwards, pausing to give your breast a squeeze before it made its way under your dress, finding your cunt like a bloodhound on the trail. His fingers met your heat, eliciting a whimper that you could see Vincent found beautiful.

"Like music," he chuckled, leaning in to roughly kiss your bloodstained lips, his own working eagerly to smear the blood still on your face. "Sing for me again, angel."

And sing for him you did, for the next half hour while he ravaged you, blood-soaked as you were.

[denaliwrites]

Who Are You Supposed To Be, Criss Angel?

Peter Vincent x Fem!Reader

Summary: (18+) Reader does Peter's eyeliner because he's too hungover to do it himself. Or so he says, anyway.

Warnings: Peter Vincent's idea of flirting is... it's not fucked up, necessarily? But it's... it's somethin'. Also, Smut Lite. Diet Smut, if you will. Definitely smutty language, at least. And use of Bitch as a term of endearment.

Requests: Open!

"Oi, watch it!" Peter growled, glaring up at you through heavily lidded, hazy eyes.

You hadn't even started yet.

"Shut up, you child," you hissed back, snatching his glass of Midori and taking a shot-sized swill before he had the chance to take it back. "I haven't touched you yet!"

He grumbled into his drink, taking a drag even bigger than your own. "I just know," he started, pointing a warning finger your way, "by the way you're holding that pen, that you're gonna poke my eye out."

"If you don't shut up and let me do my work, it'll be on purpose," you shot back, your glare withering. He shrank back with another bout of grumbles. "That's what I thought, you little shit."

He took a remarkably reasonably-sized sip of his drink before you began manhandling him, his lips pouting as you roughly tilted his head straight and up for a better angle. "Move and I'll stab you," you warned him.

"Fuck, fine," he growled back, settling to the best of his abilities. It wasn't perfectly still, he wasn't the kind of man who could ever be that still, but it was enough for you to get his eyeliner on at the very least.

"There," you finally stated triumphantly, grabbing the hand mirror from behind you and holding it up for him to see.

"You really think this is enough?" he asked, annoyed.

"What, you want more!?"

"Of course I want more!" You could tell he was simultaneously not really angry with you, while also trying not to yell -- mostly for effect. He was dramatic like that.

You rolled your eyes with a groan, only for those eyes to zero in on him as he grabbed you roughly by the hips and pulled you into his lap. You went down with a yelp, barely managing to arrange yourself so that you were straddling him.

"What the hell, Vincent?" you asked with a pointed shove against his chest.

"Oi, don't act like this isn't your favorite place to be," he growled, the sound grinding out of his chest and sounding remarkably different from his earlier growls. His knee bucked up, sending a pulse of electric pleasure up your spine.

"Fuck you," you whimpered in weak protest.

His teeth connected over your clothed breast, delicately squeezing in just the right spot. A hand trailed up to your unattended breast, greedily palming the whole thing.

"Vincent, I can't --" you gasped, body all but melting into him as his knee jolted again. "I can't... do your makeup like this."

"Just a quick fuck." And though his tone was casual, annoyed even, you knew him well enough to know when he was begging.

You felt a thrill travel up your spine, this time with the knowledge that you had such delicious power over him. "No."

He pulled back immediately. It wasn't in anger or frustration, though.

Peter Vincent was many things, an asshole was one of them. But he cared about consent, and he cared about you, though he had a funny way of showing it sometimes.

"I will wreck that pussy," he declared good-naturedly as he settled back into his previous position, stilling like a good boy for you.

"Don't flatter yourself," you told him with a smirk. "You can't even find my clit."

"Oh, so I wasn't just jamming my knee up against it a minute ago? What was I doing, then, bitch? What was I hitting, darling, your spleen?"

You bit your lip in annoyance, and instead of answering him, you set back to work on his eyeliner. The rest of the time passed in companionable silence, to the point where you almost thought he'd fallen asleep.

"There," you finally exclaimed, standing up and grabbing the mirror. When he looked into it, he looked satisfied. Proud, even.

"That's the shit, baby!" He moved to a stand, pulling you into a passionate kiss. And then he was walking away, smacking your ass as he passed.

"Wait, come back!" you called after him.

Peter Vincent would say, of course, that he was beholden to no woman. That he wasn't whipped. But like a dog, he came when he was called. "What is it?" he asked with a roll of his eyes.

"Who are you supposed to be?" you asked in amusement, delicately smudging his eyeliner. "Criss Angel?"

You'd never seen him look so offended. It was delicious.

"Twiggy little emo prince. Go do your little vampire show," you teased. "Your Twilight fanfic."

"I -- you little --"

"It's cute, you know. That you pretend to be this badass vampire hunter, when you can't even track down the female orgasm. Like it's hard or something!"

"Bitch." he whined, and it was maybe the sexiest sound he'd made all day.