| 🖤 Touched by Dark 🖤 | ✨️ The Devil Made Me Do It ✨️
🏴 A DARK!Pedroboy Fanfic List 🏴
This DARK!Pedroboy's taking off his best just for YOU 💋 He's smirking down at you and he loves to watch you watch him with his fingers in his tie and that glint in his eye. Enjoying every moment, are we? Well the hungry DARK!Pedroboys are dying to spend some time alone with you. They've gotten restless with just this little pet around. And I've promised to deliver them some fresh sweetmeats 👅🥩🧁 They're expecting you...
All of these fics have a monster or "evil" Pedroboy 🏴👹💀😈
18+ mind the warnings, when I say dark I MEAN IT - the boys do enjoy a meal of DDDNE (Dead Dove Do Not Eat). Will be updating at the DARK!Pedroboys' bidding...
A/N: Just a smutty little drabble, no plot! I normally hold myself to a rule not to write Pbois if I haven't watched them, but as a thank you 🎁 to @kokoluwie for making this amazing gifset, I had to break it 🥰 Thank you for fulfilling my request and all your amazing gifs and edits from the Behemoth! trailer - we all benefit from your talent!! xoxox
Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI pls), established relationship, fingering, nicknames.
Dividers by @saradika-graphics ty😘😘
As soon as the front door closes behind him, Alex breaks from your heated, messy kiss and whispers your favourite words,
“Let me play you, darling.”
Giggling, you toe off your shoes and extend your hand to place onto top of his large palm, already upturned and reaching for you.
Both grinning dopily at one another, Alex raises your arm and spins you gracefully, much like you’ve seen him do with his cello and its endpin – a playful performance trick that never fails to awe the audience. His smooth, gentle handling of your body always has the same effect on you; by the time Alex finishes your turns, you’re in the living room, naked, all your clothes having mysteriously fallen away.
Cupping your face, Alex resumes kissing you; the press of his lips fervent, the dig of his calloused fingers firm, the pulse of his tongue against yours a testament to his restraint. You smile against his perfect lips, letting him chase yours as you turn away from him, resuming the desired position.
“What would you like to play tonight, my love? Bach? Beethoven?” you close your eyes, voice dreamy.
Alex presses himself close and hooks his chin over your shoulder, eyes darkening at the sight of the curves of your body, open and bare for him and him only; you feel him hardening against your backside. “Maybe just the fundamentals tonight,” he murmurs, hands sliding into place – one palming the swells of your breasts, the other snaking past your belly, “a musician is only as good as his foundation.”
You loll your head back against Alex’s hard chest – he makes you feel so cherished and venerated when he holds you like this, holding you like he does his most beloved instrument. Alex had once explained to you why the relationship between cello and cellist is the most intimate in all the symphony,
She sits between my legs, shielded and well protected, but the hold I have on her is precious. I cannot be overbearing or ever try to restrain her, confine her; I can only cradle her just right, just enough, so that she balances, safe – only then does she trust me, and only then, can she sing.
He loves you with that same gentle, thoughtful heart, and for that you love him with all of yours.
“An étude, then?” you barely have time to chirp your quip before Alex begins to play pizzicato with your body, strumming through the waves and dips of your dripping pussy with his strong, practiced fingers. He plays you from memory, knowing the map and tension of your body by heart – confidently and consistently, he plucks every note,
C string
G string
D string
A string
Sliding the rough pads of his fingertips through your folds, he expertly manipulates your pleasure so that you sing for him – a response to your lover’s call.
You cry out as Alex turns you into an instrument for his genius, showing off and alternating the same techniques that have made him a world class violoncellist: fingers dancing along your slit, he switches between stroke lengths - long and smooth, short and detached - so seamlessly, it makes you dizzy; anchoring his thumb, he rocks over your swollen clit with just the right pressure for your entire body to vibrate in ecstasy; sliding one, then two thick fingers into you, he drags, controlled, along the hug of your warm walls, coaxing from you his favourite song.
Far from being idle, the hand on your chest is equally as skillful, shifting between your breasts - toying, pulling and releasing its fistful of flesh to a hypnotic rhythm; nimble fingers arpeggiate, roll, and snap your sensitive nipples – pulling your perky peaks harshly upwards and releasing them to the twang of your gasps and melodic moans. Reaching your arms back to grab onto Alex’s neck, you fist the soft curls at its nape and arch, exaggerating the bounce of your tits – the sight is so lascivious, Alex has to bite a moan into your shoulder.
“Alex! Oh my god! Yes, please, please…”
“Please what, my darling?” a smirk is kissed into your skin, soothing the sting of his canines. Both of Alex’s hands slow and you whimper a soft, pathetic plea when you feel him withdraw from your cunt. He hums a sweet little harmony in your ear as he tortuously draws the back of his fingers through your slick like he would a bow over the strings of his instrument - purposeful, intentional. Chuckling at the way you jump when he knuckles over your sensitive clit, Alex asks you again, tone soothing and indulgent, “Yes?”
“Please, let me come, my love,” you barely recognize your own voice, it’s so airy and light, like you’re not even here.
Alex answers before you even finish saying the words, his desire to bring you to your climax overriding his patience. Without ceremony, he plunges his fingers back into your sopping hole and begins to thrust - fiery, impassioned, furioso. When you body starts to shudder from its impending crescendo, Alex bands his arm across your chest to hold you upright, rasping hot against your neck, “I’ve got you, darling.”
Continuing to piston in and out of your squelching cunt, his thumb circles your clit to an increasingly upbeat tempo, allegretto progressing to allegro; through your half-lidded eyes, you see Alex in your peripheral, his eyes closed, breathing laboured, soft curls bouncing wildly against his forehead. He’s lost now, lost to your pleasure the way you’ve seen him lost to the music, when he plays so passionately his arm becomes an extension of the bow. It occurs to you that tonight, it’s you who’s become an extension of him, his talent, his love.
The thought snaps the tightly strung wires in your lower belly and you come sharply, singing the high note that Alex wills from you. Slumping against his protective hold, you let Alex pull you down onto the couch and into his arms, cuddling you through your high with soft and tender kisses to your brow. When you finally return to yourself, you lift onto your knees and meet Alex’s mouth with a long, grateful kiss. Eyes full of love and mischief, your hand trails down his broad body to find the bulge in his pants waiting for your eager touch; smiling, you murmur against his lips, “My turn to play.”
