yshx.

Your eyes dance across the flickering flames from the fireplace, tugging your blue thread through your quilting weight cotton in deep thought as you take in every word the radio host was saying. It was courting season and you were finally of age to find a suitor. This was finally your time to let go of your home life and become a respectable wife in high society. You weren’t too thrilled really, but you had to be ready to embrace change and find, at least, a decent husband that you could somewhat like and have children with.

It wasn’t much of a dream or aspiration but it was something you had to learn to be content with. Your family name of Duvalier had a strong legacy to upkeep and you knew as the only child in your family you must do your duty and carry on as nothing but an obedient child bearer. All the gowns, makeup, or jewelry in the world couldn’t even make you excited for the next days ahead. You knew it would be nothing but men lined up out the door and into the street with poor attempts of courting now that the announcer finally announced it.

You couldn’t wait to be the bait on the hook for any potential big fish to catch. Note the sarcasm.

“Moving forward to a more serious topic, the police have asked me to inform all of you that yet another body has been found in the Pine Grove Woods. How horrendous! They were dismembered and barely recognizable!” You shivered at the way you could hear him smiling, “Some say it was our missing darling Henrietta O’Hare, could it be? More information to come but do stick around for some of my favorite slow time jazz, perfect for any woman’s ear even the deceased ones, God rest her soul.”

The broadcast began to play some jazz, making you feel as if your brain went in a whirlwind from the information you had just recieved. Another body was found?

“How horrific,” You mother turned down the radio a bit until the jazz music was nothing more but a hum filling the room, “There is some mad man on the loose, probably someone from the poorer districts”

“Or it’s someone of high society,” You suddenly spoke up, glancing toward your Mother before continuing your needlework absentmindedly, why did you always struggle in making flower when it came to sewing? “Must we always assume it’s someone of lower class?”

“That is quite enough,” Your mother knew that that sharp tongue of yours would be a problem when it came to finding you a husband. She would have to snap it off herself if you were ever to find a decent catch. The last thing she needed was you becoming an old maid and disappointing the family name, “I do believe it is time for you to retire to bed dear. It is a big day for you tomorrow.”

You set down your cloth, standing up from your chair before bowing your head respectfully toward her, “I shall see you in the morning then.”

In the dimly lit hall, a subtle sense of unease washes over you as you ascend the staircase, each step echoing with the weight of looming responsibilities. The second-floor corridor stretches ahead, leading to the room that carries the weight of your familial expectations.

Arriving at your door, you hesitate before entering. The looming prospect of tomorrow's endeavors casting a shadow over your thoughts.

You slip into the vastness of your bedroom, the opulence of the room a stark reminder of the legacy you're bound to uphold. You look up at the family portrait that hung proudly on your wall, your father proud and smiling, it made your heart ache at his absence. You knew your mother was extremely hard on you because now that he was gone, she was all you had left— and she wouldn’t be here forever. Her harshness came from a place of kindness, something that you were force to understand at a young age for the sake of your own emotions and sanity. Regardless, everything still weighed on you and that alone had your body feeling more heavy than usual as you got under your covers that night.

“M-Mother! Is this really necessary?” The shopkeeper and her assistants force a girdle up your plush thighs, roughly scrapping it against your skin, “Ow!”

Your mother sat with a perfect view of you as you stood on a little platform in front of a long mirror, a satisfied smile tugs at her lips, “We need to slim those hips down (Y/N), slim and pretty in the beauty norm now. Be lucky you weren’t a teenager like me in the early 1900s, the corsets were worse.”

You huff just as the workers fix your brassiere, raising your arms so they could help you slip the gown you were going to wear to the ball over your head. It was a Egyptian silk dress that reached right above your ankles, adorned with sparkly sequin. The dress was beautiful, you admired it by looking at your reflection, feeling as though you were getting more confidence to take this courting season in stride.

“Now for a mask! It is a Masquerade ball Ms.Duvalier,” The shopkeeper brings over a glass case, opening it with a soft ‘click!’ to present you with an assortment of different animal themed masks. Your fingers trace over the intricate designs in awe, “Might I suggest one for you? Perhaps you’d like to be a lamb?”

“Innocent, pure, I like it.” Your mother agrees, shooing away the shopkeeper to come step closer to you, a proud look on her face as she looks over your attire.

You stop the shopkeeper before she could walk away by grabbing her arm gently, a small smile on your face as you took out another mask that caught your attention, “But I think the deer suits me better, no?”

“(Y/N), darling, a deer?” Your Mother’s lips turns into a flat line, “Of all things.”

“You are dictating everything I do, the least you can do is let me have is a choice in what mask I wear tonight.” You grabbed the deer mask and held it up. It only covered half of your face, the antlers on either side of the mask were small but so unique you were sure to catch a few stray eyes. It was different— beautiful even, “Please?”

Your mother gave in to your sweet look with a roll of her eyes, “Fine, fine, if you must.”

"Let me package this right along with your evening gown then!" The shopkeeper disappears behind a counter to fold your purchases neatly.

Then the rest of the day went on in a flash. Afternoon tea soon turned into the early evening and you found yourself getting ready with the help of your housemaids. Before you knew it you were exiting the car and stepping onto the stone steps to the Montgomery Estate. You and your mother were welcomed especially among the rest as special guests, your family name carrying a wealth not only through currency but in history as well.

The grand ballroom of the Montgomery house was adorned with shimmering lights and elegant decorations, setting the perfect backdrop for the lively affair. It didn’t take you long before you were swept up by men and their invitations to dance. With your mother’s approval, you glided through the dance floor, the music enveloped you, and the laughter of the partygoers echoed in the air. The atmosphere was electric and you found that just as it was fun to waltz under the shimmering chandeliers, it was also draining.

The gentlemen you danced with varied in charm and conversation skills. Some were charming, others less so, but each dance brought in the hope of marriage. The night progressed and with it the clinking of glasses created a mesmerizing rhythm.

Amidst the whirlwind of conversations, you found yourself being a bit of wallflower now that the night was at its height. With sore feet, you stood along the sidelines and people watched. Faces blurred, and voices almost a distant echo in your mind as you sip your champagne.

Lost in the moment, you couldn't help but wonder if the right dance partner would emerge from the crowd. Perhaps someone would sweep you off your feet like a fairytale knight or you would be one of the lucky ones to fall in love at first sight. Or is that wishful thinking? You didn’t care, your mother controlled everything in your life and you wouldn’t let her control your mind too. Being a hopeful romantic was who you are no matter what high society says. In the midst of it all, you wanted to discover a meaningful connection— love. Was that so bad? You hoped to have a fairytale ending but that dream was becoming less of a reality as the dancers whirled and more of, exactly that, a hopeless dream.

A lady suddenly bumps into you, knocking your champagne glass into your dress, making you spill it all over your gorgeous gown. The woman apologizes profusely but you dismiss it with an understanding smile, knowing that she meant no ill intent and that it was genuinely an accident. Excusing yourself from your mother’s watchful gaze from across the room, you make your way toward the patio that seemed so distant from all the lively entertainment.

Finding privacy on the patio, you began to rubbing your stain with a napkin, nearly cursing at yourself because you only appeared to be making it worse. Your mother would scold you for acting as if you didn’t have the money to replace it with another, better, gown but you couldn’t help it. Unlike her you weren’t so materlistic and flashed your money whenever you got the chance.

“Ah, damn..” You mumbled to yourself.

“You should dab and not rub, my good lady.” A sudden voice from the shadows had you jumping out your skin. You turn to look at the man that emerged, a warm grin on his face as he stepped forward. You were in awe at the fact that his masquerade mask was just like yours, only with bigger antlers to represent that he was a male deer. You saw nothing more than his tan pointy chin and eyes but oh his eyes, they were such a lovely brown that it felt as you were lost in the soil on a rainy day.

“I-I’m sorry?” You were flustered by his mysterious nature, not really catching what he had said only a few second before.

“I said that if you want to save your dress darling, you should dab and not rub.” The man repeated.

You blinked, still taken aback by the unexpected encounter. The man's advice finally registered, and you nodded, grateful for the guidance.

"Thank you," you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. "I appreciate the tip. I suppose I got a bit carried away trying to fix it."

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the quiet patio. "It happens to the best of us. May I?"

He gestured towards the stain, and you took a step back, allowing him to inspect the damage. With surprising grace, he produced a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the spot gently.

"There, that should help. But you might want to have it professionally cleaned once the night is over," he suggested, his eyes locking onto yours.

You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest as you met his gaze. The dim light on the patio cast a mysterious aura around him, making you all the more curious. Despite his charm, you couldn't shake the feeling that you knew him from somewhere, his voice and mannerisms creating a sense of familiarity.

"Thank you, really," you said, feeling a bit flustered by the attention. "And who might you be, coming to the rescue like this?"

He bowed slightly, the antlers on his mask making it appear a whimsical gesture. "Call me Alastor. A pleasure to be of service, my dear."

"Alastor," you repeated, committing the name to memory. "I'm (Y/N)—" Before you could properly introduce yourself, the distant melody of the waltz called you back to the ballroom.

"I must return to the party," you sighed, torn between the stranger and the obligations of being a Duvalier.

"And yet you don't seem in a hurry to go," Alastor seemed to hold a playful glint as he observed your inner conflict.

"I suppose I'm caught between the dance floor and the quiet patio" you admitted, a subtle smile playing on your lips. The both of you knowing the real reason you were hesitant to go back inside.

Alastor chuckled, gesturing towards the ballroom with a flourish. "Ah, the dance of courtship. A beautiful spectacle, isn't it? But sometimes, the most enchanting moments happen away from the crowd."

His words resonated with a certain truth, and you found yourself drawn to the charm of his demeanor. Alastor extended his hand, an invitation for another dance under the moonlit night on the patio.

"Care for a dance out here, away from the crowd?" he proposed, his smile inviting.

Caught in the magnetic pull of his charisma, you nodded, the soreness of your feet magically disappearing once you place your hand in his. The two of you waltzed gracefully under the soft glow of the patio lights, away from the watchful eyes. The music seemed to follow you, creating a private serenade for this impromptu dance.

As you swirled in Alastor's arms, you couldn't help but feel a sense of liberation. The night air was cool, and the courtyard offered a break from the bustling festivities. In that moment, it was just you, Alastor, and the dance that unfolded between you.

The waltz under the moonlit patio seemed to be a dance outside the constraints of time, but eventually, the music came to a graceful end. Alastor gently released your hand, and with a lingering gaze, he proposed an idea that sparked curiosity.

"You know," he said, his voice a suggestive murmur, "there's a hidden gem not too far from here. A jazz club with live music that's simply captivating. Care to join me for a bit more magic tonight?"

"Well, I-" You glanced back into the ballroom, noticing your mother conversing with other senior patrons, hardly knowing your absence just yet, but it wouldn't be long before she bound off in search of you. Though you were reeled back into Alastors light touch and warm embrace, noting that if you were to listen to people order you about constantly everyday then you had to take some charge back when it came to your life.

Intrigued by the idea of an adventure beyond the ballroom, you nodded, a spark of excitement filling you. Alastor led the way, guiding you through the elegant corridors and towards the exit as swiftly as possible, thankful avoiding your mother. As you stepped outside, the cool night air embraced you, and the distant sound of jazz music reached your ears, beckoning you closer.

The jazz club was dimly lit, with the smooth rhythms of a saxophone and the sultry voice of a singer weaving through the air. Alastor found a secluded spot, and the two of you settled in, immersed in the ambiance. The music stirred something within and your heart fluttered with every stolen glance between you and Alastor.

A waitress brought over drinks and your eyes widened as you take a sip of the alcoholic beverage, it certainly wasn't champagne since this was something you noticed only your father would drink. It was dark, and a bit stronger than you were used to but you welcomed the stinging taste.

Alastor's company proved to be as enchanting as the jazz melodies. His conversation flowed effortlessly, and there was a certain ease in the air, as if time itself slowed down within the walls of the club.

Suddenly, the jazz club went into an energetic uproar as the music changed to one of something slow to fast-paced. Couples cheered in their drunken haze, hurrying to the dance floor to do the most outlandish dance moves you have ever seen. It was exciting to say the least and you couldn't help but laugh, wishing you could join them on the dance floor.

Noticing your new found excitement, Alastor stood up from the table, "Care for a bit of the Charleston, my dear?" Alastor suggested, the upbeat rhythm of the music pulsating through the club.

As Alastor extended his hand, inviting you to join him for the lively dance, a flicker of uncertainty crossed your eyes. The fast-paced, energetic dance was vastly different from the graceful waltzes you were accustomed to. At that a wave of shyness washes over you.

"I must confess," you admitted with a shy smile, "I've only ever danced the waltz. Other dance moves are not exactly seen as… ladylike."

Instead of pushing, Alastor offered a reassuring smile.

"Well, my dear, tonight is about breaking away from tradition and embracing the unexpected. Let's make tonight a dance to remember."

Encouraged by his words, you took a deep breath to find your confidence, allowing Alastor to guide you into the heart of the lively dance floor. As the vibrant jazz music played, you hesitantly followed his lead, attempting the steps of the Charleston. Alastor's patient guidance and enthusiasm gradually eased your nerves, and soon enough, you found yourself swept up away in the joyful dance.

The jazz club became a haven, a place where your worries were melted away. As you twirled and spun with Alastor, you discovered a newfound freedom in embracing different dance styles. Laughter bubbled up, and the initial shyness transformed into an exhilarating sense of freedom.

"Thank you for this, I suppose I did need the escape," you confessed, a genuine smile playing on your lips as you raise your glass. "I’m glad to have met you Alastor."

Alastor's eyes held a warmth that mirrored the sentiment and as the night unfolded, Alastor's mysterious charm seemed to intensify. After the spirited Charleston dance, he excused himself with a playful glint in his eyes, leaving you alone in the midst of the joyful chaos.

"I'll be back in just a moment, my dear," Alastor promised with a charismatic smile, a faint air of mystery surrounding his departure.

You watched as he disappeared into the crowd, the jazz music continuing to pulse through the club. The energy of the dance floor seemed to heighten in his absence, and you found yourself standing alone, surrounded by the laughter and movement of the other couples.

Time passed, and as the seconds turned to minutes and the minutes turned to an hour, you realized that Alastor's promise of returning might not be true.

A mix of emotions washed over you – a blend of disappointment and concern. You scanned the crowded dance floor and cozy corners of the club, but there was no sign of Alastor. The night had taken an unexpected turn, and you were left standing alone, thinking of what to do next. Had you been so stupid in believing you could find a charming man with just the snap of your fingers?

You decided to leave and face the more familiar, if not comforting, atmosphere of the night.

Upon returning home, your eyes welled up with tears, a mixture of disappointment and the frustration of having allowed yourself to be swept away by the night's excitement. The elegant facade you presented to the world cracked, revealing vulnerability.

Your mother, ever watchful and concerned, hurried over to the entrance hall noticing the distress on your face as you entered the house. The delicate mask of composure you wore during the night shattered in that moment, replaced by a glimpse of the real emotions beneath.

"Where have you been? What happened?" your mother inquired, her tone a mix of worry and disapproval, “And returning so late, have you forgotten that there is a killer on the loose?”

In a trembling voice, you explained the evening's events from the Charleston dance and Alastor's mysterious departure. There was no point in hiding it from your mother when she had eyes and ears everywhere. It would only come to her ears eventually.

Your mother, unimpressed, scolded you for venturing into unfamiliar places and allowing yourself to be misled.

"You should have known better than to let a stranger take you away like that! This is not how a lady conducts herself, especially a Duvalier! Are you sure no one saw you together? You could ruin yourself with this! Stupid girl," she chastised.

The scolding words stung, and tears rolled down your cheeks. You rushed up the stairs to your room, seeking solace in the sanctuary of your room.

Behind the closed door, you allowed yourself to release the pent-up emotions. You slid down the door as the echoes of the jazz club were now replaced by the quiet sobs that filled the room. It was harsh reality to face that your wishful thinking had could have blinded you from someone who wanted nothing but moment of company.

You brought your knees to your chest, your fingertips gripping into your arms so harshly in frustration as you realize that you never should have let him help you. Better yet, you never should have danced with him.

© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost on any other social media.

You nodded, urging him to continue as you sipped the lemon honey tea. Though, you already had an idea what it’d be.

“It’s this paperwork, you see...”

Bingo. 

Alastor had a habit of letting paperwork build up until it became unmanageable piles of non discernible pages scattered around the office. He didn’t like doing it, so he never did. Simple as that. Lucky for him, you had a knack of keeping things like this organised and even found monotonous tasks such as this rather therapeutic. 

“No problem, Alastor. I’ll do it all today.”

“Oh, thank you my dear! I’m eternally grateful, I’m sure you already know.” He tousled your already messy hair and stood up, whistling on his way out.

You rubbed your eyes before getting comfy again and going back to sleep.

Oh, are there any better feelings than stamping and stapling that last bit of paperwork? You didn’t think so, not after you’d spent the last three hours in the cramped hotel office. All the paperwork (even the pile he’d shoved under the cupboard) had been completed and filed away alphabetically in heavy ring binder folders. You let out a sigh of relief as you tucked it away neatly on the shelf. This was when Alastor sauntered in.

“Oh my! How tidy! My, I can see the carpet again!”

You smiled, “It’s nothing, Al!”

“Thank you, dear! You really are a good little girl after all, hm?”

Oh. What? Oh?!

Your brain couldn’t even comprehend what to say to that, so you didn’t say anything. You just blushed and stuttered as you continued pointing out how the files were organized. This was definitely new. Sure, you’d done favors for Alastor before. He always thanked you, usually by buying you fancy pastries and tea, but never had he called you a good little girl. Your mouth was moving quicker than your brain, finding yourself babbling at the man. 

He raised his eyebrows at you.

“What?” You said.

“Oh, nothing...” He replied in an irringtatingly teasing way, “I just felt your heart rate increase, that’s all. I have an inkling you liked something I said a little bit too much...”

You shook your head, “Pfft, no!”

“Interesting... Because I’m not usually wrong. I think you rather liked being called a good girl, don’t you?”

You shook your head again.

He tutted, “Lying isn’t good girl behavior now, is it?”

You gave in, finally.

“No, Alastor. It’s not.”

“And I think you do want to be a good girl, don’t you?” Alastor asked  condescendingly, now sat on the desk chair.

“I do...”

“Come on then.” He said very matter-of-factly, and patted his thighs.

You did as told, sitting on his lap with your back pressing up against his chest. He wasted no time in snaking his hands up your skirt and thighs, daringly close to the hem of your panties. 

“May I?”

“Yes, please...” You almost whined.

He rubbed you over the panties, “Okay, darling...”

You shivered against him, feeling his claws pushing your panties aside and slowly tease his way inside.

“You’re doing a good job, aren’t you?”

Another weak nod. You craned your neck to nuzzle up into Alastor’s neck, closing your eyes and breathing in his smell; musky and expensive but comforting all the same. You focused on steadying these breaths as he continued to play and toy with you.

“You’re close, aren’t you?”

“Yeah...” You mewled out breathlessly.

“Then cum, sweetheart, you’ve been so well behaved, I think you deserve it...”

You twitched around his fingers as you came with angelic squeals. All throughout it he mumbled sweet praises, nipping your ear.

As you caught your breath he held you tightly, almost as if he thought you were about to collapse over him. Maybe you were.

you smile between kisses, your heart racing in your chest. "too long." you finish his sentence, earning a chuckle from the demon. his lips kiss a trail to your ear, a low growl to his voice as he whispers to you. "you taste like heaven, darling." your cheeks go red, not quite prepared for such a comment, especially in front of company. "alastor!" you hiss, hitting his chest gently but he just pulls you closer in response.

finally, he addresses the group behind you who are all standing with their jaws hanging open. "now, if you're all done gawking, i believe my wife needs to be shown around..."

husk spits out his drink as alastor speaks, covering angel in alcohol. "your WHAT!?" you hide your face as calamity ensues, everyone trying to speak over eachother at the insane news. "your wife... is an angel?" charlie asks gently, trying to get to the bottom of this. "well, i couldn't have known for sure but she was always more a saint than i." alastor hums, running his hand down your back. you shudder when he touches your wings, to which he notes in his head for later.

"o-oh! well then! i guess you should show her around, yeah?" she smiles bashfully, still taken aback by everything happening since your arrival just a few minutes ago. you look up at alastor, your cheeks aching from smiling so wide. "i think i'd like that." you whisper to him, enjoying the way he pulls you closer to him. "hold on tight then, my love."

you're not sure what he means by that until you're slipping into the shadows with him. its an odd feeling, but you don't think much of it until you're reappearing in what you assume is his bedroom. alastor is careful with you, like he's afraid the wrong touch will burn you, but he craves the feeling of your bare skin against his hands more than he can admit. you smile, reaching your hands up to cup his face. "touch me, al. i'm not fragile..."

your words light a spark deep within him, forcing him to restrain himself from ripping your pretty clothes into tatters. he groans inwardly, large hands reaching around to pick you up before fumbling his way to the bed. "corrupting an angel wasn't on my bucket list until seeing you again, my dear." his tone, its not what you're used to hearing, but that gravelly undertone shoots straight through you. "oh please, you can't corrupt me more than you already have." alastor's lips find the sensitive skin of your neck and you feel him smirk.

"i hope that's not a challenge." he tests, tugging at the hem of your dress. you all but giggle, lifting up so alastor can free your body of clothes. "and what if is it?" you challenge, knowing full well that alastor wouldn't let your teasing continue without proper punishment. his eyes darken red, and there's a tinge of fear in your gut. because this may still be alastor, but its been quite a while, you don't know how he's changed.

but as he kisses down your stomach, you're reassured that the man you married is still there somewhere, underneath this 'radio demon' persona. "your lips tasted of heaven, mon amour, does this taste so sweet as well?" alastor's words alone are enough are enough to make you whimper, then the feeling of his hot breath against your clothed cunt makes your core pulse.

your hands naturally fall to the top of his head, feeling the softness of his ears and the rough points of his antlers. "c-can i..?" you start, timidly holding onto the horns. alastor's body shudders as he shoves his face into your thigh. "yes, ma chérie. please do." he breathes, tugging on the thin fabric of your panties until they rip in half.

alastor wants to be patient, wants to treat you like the angel you are, but he is a demon after all. and he hasn't gotten such a delicious meal in far too long. after he feels your grip tighten on his antlers, he lets loose his self control. his first taste of your sweet pussy sends him into a frenzy, eating you like a man starving. his tongue swipes up your slit before circling your clit in quick flicks. your legs are shaking already, breathy moans leaving your lips with reckless abandon.

there's a part of you that is concerned to be getting your cunt ate by a demon, but this demon was your husband, after all. sera made you come down here and you might as well enjoy yourself, right?

your hips arch up, craving more and more, and alastor is happy to oblige. "this is heaven, my dear. not some palace in the sky, but here, between your legs." your eyes well with tears, overwhelmed in more ways than one. every pass of his tongue has your release teetering on the edge while his sweet words make your heart flutter. its almost too much, and when alastor sucks on your clit, your walls burst.

"a-alastor i'm..." you mewl, every nerve on your body screaming as your orgasm rolls over you. you're almost sure you're hurting him by how hard you tug at his hair, but alastor doesn't stop. the intensity is something you've not experienced in many, many years, and the tears stream down your cheeks. alastor coaxes you through it, licking slow and soft circles around your sensitive bud until your shaking stops.