THINGS LEVI SAYS IN BED

THINGS LEVI SAYS IN BED

“hey, don’t move yet—ngh ..”

“you feel me right here?”

“lay down,”

“legs on my shoulders pretty,”

“off. i said take them off.”

“you’re so beautiful .. how’d a man like me get so lucky hm?”

“cmere,”

“don’t cry .. i didn’t mean to be so rough with you .. cmere. let me hold you.”

“yeah? it feels good huh?”

“don’t—fuck, don’t move.”

“you’re so warm,”

“hey—none of that, let me see you.”

“spread it f’me.”

“keep your legs open. don’t make me tell you again.”

“kiss me,”

“gimme your hands.”

“you’re so pretty when you whine for me .. do it again,”

“let me in pretty, you’ve got to relax f’me.”

“hey, don’t make me take you over my knee.”

“you feel how fuckin’ hard i am? gimme your hand .. you feel that? s’all from your fucking teasing.”

“give me your panties.”

“fuck .. you’re so wet tonight ..”

“you taste so good though .. i don’t want to stop yet.”

♡ I Got You ( Human!Alastor x Afab!Reader )

♡ Content Warnings: MDNI ; 18+ ; Porn without plot ; smut ; semi-public sex ; car sex ; brat taming ; unprotected sex ; creampie ; if I missed any, let me know!

♡ Author's Notes: For my darling wifeys Hazel, Mink, and Danny~! I hope I was able to deliver on the base idea 🥺 Not proofread, my brain stopped braining near the end so it's kinda rushed, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless~!

♡ Summoning: @hazelfoureyes ; @minkdelovely ; @sugoi-writes ; @fraugwinska

"Where's that- nngh! ... that attitude now, dear?"

You couldn't speak, your brain unable to even perceive the words that tumbled from Alastor's mouth as the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin filled your ears. "A- ah! Hah! Uh, oh, oh fuh-!" His hips slamming against the fat of your ass smothered any attempt to form words.

The darkness of the alley he had parked in kept your licentious activities hidden well enough from prying eyes on the bustling city street, thankfully. But the vehicle rocking back and forth from the force of his movements was a dead giveaway to anyone that lingered at the alley's edge a couple seconds too long - the moans of pleasure being torn from your heaving bosom, the pleading whimpers for him to fuck you harder a simple confirmation of what Alastor was doing to you.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked, his voice laced with a smug arrogance, and suddenly you found your head being pulled back, your sweaty cheek being torn away from the sticky leather when his fingers tangled in your hair and yanked even further until you were staring at the lining of his car roof.

Eyes clenched shut from the pain in your scalp and the delicious, burning stretch of his cock ramming in and out - going deeper and deeper than any of your previous partners, reaching new places you didn't know existed with every thrust - your nails sunk into the headrest of the seat you had been pressed against, clinging desperately to something, anything tangible to keep yourself grounded.

What was he saying just now? Oh, yeah - it was something about your attitude.

"I- hah! I said- fuck, I sssaahh-!" You managed to get out in between your gasps, biting the inside of your cheek to gain some semblance of control over the mind numbingly sensations coursing through your veins. Using the front seats as leverage, you craned your neck to peer over your shoulder until you could see Alastor's face, smirking at the site before you - rounded glasses askew on the bridge of his nose, pupils dilated, cheeks dusted with a faint pinkish glow, jaw slack.

"I said, you can fuck me better than that!"

"Such foul language! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Tsk, tsk, tsk," he teased, the flowy skirt of your dress bunched at your waist, giving him a clear view of the ripples being sent through your backside. His free hand grasped one cheek, guiding your sweet, sweet cunt up and down his excruciatingly throbbing member.

"You're right, I can fuck you better. But I wonder - can you?"

Detaching his hands from your hair and ass, Alastor spread both arms across the top side of the backseat, slowing the lazy bucking of his hips until he stopped moving entirely. Groaning loudly at his goading you into movement, you didn't waste a single second - rolling your hips back and forth on his lap harshly. Gripping the edges of the front seat tightly, your grinding gradually turned into a bounce, gaining speed with every downward motion of your hips.

"Ho-hoooh fuck yes, just like that! Keep going!" Alastor breathed out, watching as your hips gained speed with every downward motion, the 'smack, smack, smack!' of skin against skin and the obscenely wet squelching of your pussy filling the air and pushing you closer to your release, threatening to throw you over the cliff's edge of absolute bliss any second now.

Clamping down on his painfully hard length, Alastor let out a delectable little whimper, clenching his eyes shut and throwing his head back against the leather seat. Raking a hand through his damp chestnut locks, the pliant walls of your heated sex wrapped around his cock provided him with some amount of relief; but it wasn't anywhere near enough.

He needed more.

"Fuck, fuck, Alastor! I'm so close!" you cried suddenly, closing your eyes tightly as both of you felt the all-too-familiar fluttering of your pussy, causing your hips to stutter - leaving you right on the cusp of glorious ectasy but holding you back from that heavenly plunge. Alastor let out a breathy laugh at your predicament, wanting nothing more than to edge you, to grab hold of your hips and hold you still until your orgasm slipped from your grasp entirely. It would undoubtedly teach you not to act like such a brat, especially in public.

Had Alastor not been dangling off the very same cliff, he would have.

"I got you, dear."

And with that, his hands returned to the plush roundness of your ass cheeks and spread them apart for a better view, helping you to regain your momentum and planting his feet into the floorboard for added leverage.

"That's it," Alastor whispered, mesmerized by the sight of your ambrosian heat swallowing his engorged cock whole, his balls slapping against your neglected clit as he bucked his hips into you from below.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Don't stop, don't stop, almost there-!" he coaxed you into the beginnings of your release, imagining the way your face would scrunch up at the first few waves to come crashing over you. Thighs trembling, toes curling, your jaw dropped into a silent scream at the overwhelming pleasure hitting you over and over and over again, each wave more intense than the last.

Alastor wasn't too far behind you, and with one final thrust he was spilling his hot cum inside you and painting your walls white with his seed. He kept still as he rode out the high that accompanied his release, his hips pressed flush against your bottom while both of you panted and gasped and tried to bring yourselves back to reality.

"Fuck... maybe I should complain about your poor choice in musicals more often."

may i request something where reader watches alastor undress. him slowly taking off his coat… sliding off the straps of his suspenders… rolling his sleeves up to his elbows…

Talking Body

♡ Pairing: Human!Alastor x Afab!Reader

♡ summary: Alastor has been neglecting you lately, so he decides to give you a show.

♡ warnings: 18+, MDNI, stripping, needy reader, neglected reader, masturbation, voyeurism, bodily fluids, Alastor is a tease, pet names. I think that is everything.

♡ an: Thank you so much for the request. I hope you enjoy! Not proofread, possible spelling errors

The day was long and boring. Being a stay at home wife you tend to run out of things to do by the end of the week. All the chores were finished and dinner was in the oven.

You were glad it was finally time for your husband to get home. You've missed him dearly. He has been working late hours at the radio station the past several weeks. Not returning home till late in the night, long after you have finally gone to sleep. This morning however Alastor had promised you he would be home on time. Telling you he had a surprise for you.

Since your husband has been working late he has started to neglect you intimately. Alastor was never one for physical contact but he always made sure you were taken care of.

You checked the clock and saw you still had about an hour before he should return Home and another twenty minutes for the food to cook. You decided it was a perfect time to take care of the ache between your legs.

You spread out on the couch, hiked your dress up over your hips and pulled the top down to expose your tits. Your hand trailed down your body till you found your Clothed cunt. You push your panties to the side and rub your finger up and down before finding your bundle of nerves. After a few minutes you slip a finger inside and start pumping.

You whine because it's not as good as Alastors cock, doesn't stretch you the same way. You speed up fingers trying to find release when the door slams Open.

Alastor is standing in the doorway with flowers and a shocked look on his face when his eyes land on you. You gasp and stop moving.

“My my my, what is my lovely wife doing?” He says smirking in a teasing tone.

Your mouth hangs open not knowing how to respond. “Couldn't wait for your dear old husband to come home? Tsk tsk tsk” He shakes his head back and forth. “Just what am I going to do with you darlin'?”

He shuts the door with his foot as he walks into the living room, playing the flowers on the coffee table. He grabs your hand and takes you to your shared bedroom.

He pushes you down gently to sit on the bed as he grabs a chair and places it in front of you in the middle of the room. He sits down and spreads his legs wide.

“I suppose I have been neglectful these past few weeks, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to touch yourself.”

You whine in embarrassment

“Now you're going to be a good girl and sit there and behave yourself. Bad girls don't get rewarded.”

You nod your head as you bite your lip

“You're going to keep those pretty eyes on me and you aren't going to move a muscle. Understand love?

You nod again and he whispers good girl.

You watch as Alastor takes off his jacket and hat, sitting them beside you on the bed, then you watch as he loosens his bowtie, pulling the fabric and twisting his head back and forth. Next he unbuttons the sleeve of his shirt and slowly starts to roll the right sleeve, exporting his toned, tanned arms, next me moves to the left side rolling even slower.

His eyes stay on you the whole time, a slight smirk on his face when you fidget on the bed and play with your fingers.

He spreads his legs further apart as he trails his hand slowly down his body stopping at his belt, he tilts his head to the side when your breath hitches. Laughing he slowly undoes the buckles and makes a shower of pulling the leather out of his lands. He folds it up and sits it beside you.

He runs his hand back up his chest and stops at his bowtie. He removes it, throwing it towards you. He fists his suspenders before slowly sliding them off his shoulders and removing them completely. His hand then lands on the first button of his shirt. He slowly starts unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time.

Your legs are rubbing together at this point and you're fisting the sheets on the bed. Alastor is smirking at you as he continues to agonizingly Slow undoing his shirt. When He finishes he lets it hang open and you have to hold back a groan from how delicious he looks.

He slowly lets the fabric fall down his shoulders then His arms, letting it hit the floor. He leans back in the chair and stretches. You watch as his Muscles Flex as he moves. He raises an eyebrow at you as you rub your legs together harder.

His hands run back down his chest and stop at his pants. He lifts his hips up slowly then sits back down. He unbuttons them and slowly slides the zipper down. His eyes are trained on you as he pushes them down his hips then down his legs. He folds them and sits them on the bed then he removes his socks next.

He's left in nothing but his boxers and you moan at the sight. He chuckles as your flushed face. You've hiked your dress back up because of your fisting the fabric. You can see the outline Of his cock and a wet spot forming on his boxers. He lifts his hips and slowly slides them down,leaving them forgotten on the floor.

You suck in a breath at his naked figure. His cock stands tall, leaking. He notices you biting your lip and decides to tease you some more. He wants to see how long you can control yourself.

He fists his cock, giving it a squeeze before lazily stroking it.

“Alastor” you say breathlessly and be chuckles

“What darlin'? I said good girls get rewarded and you've been a bad girl. Touching yourself While I'm Gone”

You whine

You can see the tip glisten from how much he is leaking. it's spilling over onto his fist acting as lubrication. He speeds up his first and moans your name as he throws his head back. While he isn't looking you lean back and spread your legs, pulling your panties down.

When Alastor looks back at you he is met with your cunt on full display and his breath hitches. You suck a finger into your mouth before it finds your bundle of nerves And you start rubbing. You throw your head back and moan, back arching.

He says your Name more stern this time and you moan out his name “Oh Alastor, faster”

He groans and his fist Matches the speed of your finger. Your other hand comes down and you slip a finger in then two. He cups his balls as he watches you matching your pace.

You're both moaning and growing, trying to outlast the other.

“fuck” He curses. Something he hardly ever does. “Look at you. All spread out and giving me a show. So pretty baby, prettiest I've ever seen ya.”

“Alastor! Yes, just like that” you scream as you add a third finger and speed up your pumping.

Alastor grits his teeth feeling his release coming. Your back arches as you feel yours.

“Squeezing me so well baby, pussy was made for me”

You moan feeling that familiar heat flood your senses. You scream his name as you cum all over your fingers.

Alastor moans your name, his eyes rolling back as he shoots his load all over his first. The sight of you pushing him over the edge.

You both sit there for a moment catching your breath. Alastor gets up out of the chair and crawls on top of you.

“That Was a good show darlin’ but how ‘bout I give you the real thing?”

HIS FAVORITE.

𝖠𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

❝The obsession with their favorite person is a lingering echo in the soul, a whisper that never fades, where every heartbeat murmurs their name and the world dissolves in their absence, as if life itself could only exist in their light.❞

It’s always there, lurking in the darkest corners of the hotel, watching you with that wide, unsettling smile. Though it seems to be everywhere, it never manifests in an aggressive or intrusive way. Yet, the intensity of its red eyes follows you wherever you go, as if its gaze intertwines with the light and darkness of the place, ever vigilant, always present.

If someone from the hotel dares to cross a line or make you uncomfortable, everything shifts instantly. The air grows heavier, and suddenly that figure appears, almost like a shadow moving between the flickering lamplight and the dark corners of the hallways. Without uttering a word, its mere presence is enough to make any intruder rethink their actions and leave, making it clear that you are not alone.

In moments when the hotel’s energy feels overwhelming, when it seems like the walls are closing in on you, things begin to change without warning. An armchair, previously absent, appears right where your tired legs need a rest. Or a steaming cup of tea, which you hadn’t requested, materializes out of nowhere in your hands, its calming aroma enveloping you. It’s as if the hotel itself responds to your needs, but deep down, you know who’s behind it. Although you never see it directly, it’s always Alastor who, with his subtle touch, orchestrates those small moments of relief. It’s his eccentric way of watching over you, making you feel safe without ever exposing himself too much, staying within his own game of shadows and light.

When Alastor is near, the atmosphere of the hotel seems to change immediately. The lights, which usually flicker and blink chaotically under his influence, behave differently around you. Instead of the unsettling tremors, they soften, adjusting to you, dimming to create an enveloping calm. Even the strange and disturbing transmissions from the old radios when he’s near, those echoes from forgotten times, seem to mold around you. Instead of chilling buzzes and distorted voices, the ghostly waves whisper gentle, almost nostalgic melodies, as if offering you comfort. It’s as if he silently dedicates his own personal recital to you, filling every corner of the place with hidden music that only you can appreciate. Through these subtle acts, Alastor communicates without saying a word, filling the spaces with his intangible presence and unmistakable energy.

Yet, what strikes you the most are the little details. Alastor, in his reserved and enigmatic manner, never touches or intrudes on your space overtly. But in his own way, he always ensures your well-being. Doors open effortlessly just before you reach them, as if an invisible hand is guiding you with perfect delicacy. If something dangerous or inconvenient is in your path, it vanishes like magic just before you stumble over it. And when you sense a threat or imminent danger, before you can even react, the situation dissolves like mist at dawn, leaving only Alastor’s shadow at the edge of your vision, watching you from the shadows, always alert, always vigilant. It’s as if he is your ethereal guardian, a presence that never fully reveals itself but is always there, protecting you with his invisible influence.

Sometimes, in the quiet of the night, when you think you’re completely alone, small gifts appear, almost imperceptible but full of meaning. A dark rose, with a deep and mysterious color, rests carefully on your nightstand, placed with almost obsessive precision. Or perhaps you find a book you mentioned only in passing during a forgotten conversation, waiting on your bed, as if he remembers every word you say. These details are not conventional gestures of affection; they are much deeper. Alastor doesn’t need to speak romantic words or empty compliments, because his actions say it all. Each small act is a masterpiece of precision, an expression of his meticulousness and attention, as if everything is designed just for you. In this elaborate game that he seems to control from the shadows, you are the central piece, the protagonist of a show that only he can direct.

Each of his movements is calculated to keep you close, in his orbit, but always just far enough that you can’t quite unravel who he really is. There’s a constant mystery in what he feels for you, an uncertainty that envelops you: Is it genuine affection? An obsession or fascination with you? Or something darker, something lying deep within him? Those questions float in the air, but in the end, they don’t matter much. What really seems to matter is that with you, Alastor, the demon who instills fear in others, changes. With you, his volatile and dangerous essence seems to yield, even if just a little, softening in your presence, as if you are the only one who can calm the storm burning inside him. And, though you don’t fully understand it, you feel that this change is for you, and only for you.

Intellectual property of @doliacuddles.

For Your Heart

The End

|Masterlist| Ao3|

|Part 1: The Beginning| |Part 2: The Middle | |Part 4: The New Beginning[Coming Soon!]|

Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Tags/ Warning: SFW. fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, Human! Alastor, Human! Reader, tooth-rooting fluff, Husband! Alastor, Angst Harana – a traditional form of courtship done during the night where men will go to someone’s window with an instrument, usually a guitar, along with some of his friends to sing. TLDR: Sometimes all you need is a guitar and a song to catch hearts…and well, Alastor has a guitar and a voice perfect for singing. The beginning, the middle, the end, and the new beginning with a guitar and a song (feat. Ben&Ben)

I did not forget about this, no matter what anyone says. Part 3 of our delulu Harana series. Also, this happens to be a song that's in English. So non-Filipinos can enjoy and understand the lyrics. And you guys should go try it because Ben&Ben is so goated. This can be read as a stand-alone.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

Monster.

Devil.

Murderer.

“This is a bit too cruel—Isn’t it love?”

Paint drips, and it drips, and it drips, and it drips. Each word embedded with the grief of the people. Each word embedded with the grief of a mother, a father, a daughter, a son, a friend. It trickles down and down and down the smooth, stone slab, and straight into the grief of a widow.

“Someone must really hate you to buy paint,” you say to a love that can no longer respond. “One can cost more than it should! It seems you’ve really managed to anger quite a number of people.”

There’s a bucket and a brush, and that’s all the kindness the world is willing to give. It’s something, at least.

There’s no one to question your reason, yet with the guitar raised above your head, you still respond, “I’ve come for your heart.”

It starts with a simple and soft strum of the guitar. Imprints of the string mark your reddening fingers as you awkwardly play the correct cords. The humming starts with a shy tune, until you find the courage to fulfill your promise to sing just for Alastor.

Only for Alastor.

Just a simple and soft strum of the guitar and you can already feel Alastor’s once warm fingers around yours. The humming starts shy, but eventually, you find the courage to sing just for Alastor – Only for Alastor.

“Why do comets come my way if they were only meant to pass?” It wasn’t easy to learn this song, especially when the strings dig into your untrained and wounded fingers, and chafes the skin right off your hands. Still, you continue. “Why did your love fill my days if it was never meant to last? . . . Was it never meant to last?”

Each chord hurts . . . but . . . but Alastor’s once warm fingers almost wrap around yours. You need to keep going. You need to keep chasing. You need to keep playing. Even if the bandages around your fingers start to rip.

Are you smiling?

It seems you are.  Alastor would be proud to see such a thing.

“You were my brightest comet.” You sing into the air, even if your only listener lays several feet down the grass. Stopping is not an option.  “Will this be just another memory? An old page, with letters faded out.”

Yesterday’s bouquet . . .

Footprints stain the petals, leaving the colors dull and wilted. Leaves were ripped and torn from its stem, and it scattered all over the dying and wilted grass. A gust of wind, and the ruined flowers blow around you and into the flush grass of other people. There’s a metaphor there somewhere. Alastor could find it.

“Set me free from momentary shooting stars. When they leave, they leave you in the dark.”

How dare he get caught, honestly. How dare he get himself killed. How dare he steal your heart.

Sweet words . . . sweet songs. These are all things Alastor promises you, and these are the very promises he’s breaking. Still, it doesn’t stop you from strumming your fingers across the strings. Each pluck of your fingers opens the unhealed wounds even further.

And finally, the warmth of Alastor returns. The memories of how Alastor wraps his fingers around your own, correcting the positions on the string until you’re playing the correct cords.

He’s smiling at you again. It’s so wide and happy that the edges of his lips reach all the way up his eyes.

You smile back at the embers of what’s no longer there.

The tips of his fingers will play with your own, and his rough and calloused hands from years of practice will swipe across until he finally intertwines your hands. Suddenly, learning the guitar isn’t so important anymore, not when he holds you oh, so, softly.

“They come . . .” Your voice breaks, and the song stops with a halt.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The wrappings around your fingers stain red. You watch as patches of blood spread all around your raw fingers.

Once more, you place your hands back across the strings. Stopping is not an option. Not when he’s finally holding you with the softest of touches. The smallest of smiles. It’s nothing compared to the ones Alastor hangs on your face . . . still, it’s something.

You take a deep breath and continue. “…Then end.”

Alastor places a hand on your face, swiping his thumb up and down. It forces you to lean into the embers of his touch.

“What should I say, dear, for you to remain here?”

The strumming of your fingers keeps going, never once stopping its feverish pace. The music captures you in a frenzy, and you sing, filled to the brim with the ruins of your love.

“And though these nights are turning gray. Still, I am thankful for what's passed. I know there may come a day when I will finally understand . . . that it was never meant to last” You lean your head across the headstone. “Was it never meant to last?”

It’s love.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

And all that love gathers into the corner of your fingers, and it drips, and it drips, and it drips.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

You: "Eugh."

You lower the burger from your mouth and wrinkle your nose in distaste. Alastor looks over at you in confusion from where he'd been preparing his 'meal' as you sit at the bistro table.

Alastor: "Whatever is the matter Darling?"

You: "I hate pickles, I asked for no pickles and the burger is full of them!"

You say in annoyance, Alastor hums, his smile quirking and plucks the burger from your hands and opens it up.

Alastor: "Not to worry Dear, I shall personally see to it that the error doesn't occur again. In the meantime..."

Alastor plucks each pickle from the bun, laying each one across the sinner's arm on his plate. He finds it hilarious that the tiny little pickles are more distasteful to you than his own eating habits.

You watch him closely as he hums away like he's just doing some monotonous housework, instead of garnishing a severed limb.

When he's done he gives you a wink, hands you back your burger and picks up the arm.

You watch in amusement as Alastor manages to grow and gape his mouth open and swallow the whole macabre meal in one go before his face returns to normal a mischievous grin on his face.

You stare at him for a few moments, blinking, before bursting out laughing and he joins in gleefully, he adores your smile after all.

Leaning forward he picks the burger from your grasp while you protest but in an odd display of affection he starts feeding you bits of your meal, so you swiftly quiet down and indulge him, a happy smile on your face at the attention.

When all that's done he snaps his fingers to clean up the mess and just sits staring at you across the table his ears lowered slightly in his ease and affection for you.

Alastor's finger tracing the back of your hand, tickling sensations at his gentle touch, whilst you both sit in comfortable silence, enjoying each others company for a while longer in the quiet before you know it your hands would be wound into his hair, his teeth embedded in your neck as you make the noises of gratitude he admires most from you.

Alastor: "Mine."