Alastor

"Dearest, do you comprehend your mine.. my little doe?" Alastor asked as he planted a few kisses on your neck, and below your ear.. His expression was one with pride, glee, authority. His half lidded eyes show no shame, no regret. Why should he regret kidnapping the love of his life? Alastor leaned forward, kissing your jawline slowly, while his free hand held your other cheek, keeping you from turning that away. His other hand was holding your wrists together. Leaning back, Alastor admired that fearful expression displaying on your oh so beautiful face, mistaking them as just a flushed, nervous state. Alastor leaned forward again, aiming to kiss your lips, since he missed those other times. You always managed to escape, but he always caught you. Alastor always made sure to only feed you the best body's. He would cook them for them, even though it was the woman's job, since it was the 1930's. If you ever refused, he would sort of force it into you, gently though.

On certain occasions, he would graciously prepare dear, meticulously slicing it into manageable portions, before delicately impaling each piece with a fork and presenting it to you with a hopeful countenance, awaiting your acknowledgment of the culinary delight. Fond recollections of his mother's counsel, steeped in affection, resonated profoundly, as she had instilled the principle of unwavering dedication to those held dear. Alas, he misconstrued her wisdom quite literally. Assuming the dual roles of radio host and clandestine serial offender, he wove narratives concerning you into his podcast broadcasts. Tragically, he emerged as the malevolent force responsible for the sudden disappearance of any individual who dared to engage with or cast a glance in your direction. However, comprehending the demeanor of your father remained a perplexing endeavor. Initially cordial upon introduction, his paternal vigilance proved a source of considerable irritation. Consequently, he elected to terminate his own existence. It is worth noting that he spared your mother from his dark fate, mindful of the harmonious rapport she shared with his own departed mother.

"Dearest of creatures, allow me the humble privilege of bestowing upon thee a kiss, so gentle and pure," Alastor beseeched, his lips curling into a beguiling smile. Within the depths of his eyes flickered a tumultuous blend of adoration and madness, enraptured by the allure of fear reflected in the depths of your captivating gaze. Despite the bindings that tethered your hands, he craved naught but your trust, yearning for you to lean upon him in your vulnerability, as he reveled in the tender touch of your countenance nestled within his grasp.