#weh i'm so happy thank you for the unexpected message 🥺

[beevean]

Me @ your hecula writing

eeeeeeeeeeee 🥺

Thank you! I wanted to take a break after the 30th fic because I liked the round number lol, but I knew that sooner or later the OTP would knock back to the door and barge in 😔

also i should write more kink, i think. like yeah the psychological analysis of these two disasters is fun and all, but maybe i want some stone cold bdsm every once in a while. maybe i want to see the big bad old vampire be dommed because young doms and old subs is hot. maybe i should ask for some fun prompts... ;)

I do have another idea in mind btw. I just can't find the words lmao. Something about scars :) and yearning :) (still in the "jotting thoughts" stage, but I hope I can give shape to it if Brain stops being a coward)

Lord Dracula was a petty man.

Hector witnessed, with his own eyes, the pedestal on which the vampire had placed himself (where Hector had placed him) crumbling into rumble.

Only a petty, insecure man would make sure to mark his lover as property; Hector laughed at it, now that he was free to do so. What was the point of scarring his skin, biting the inside of his thighs, when he was in no habit of dropping his trousers for anyone? No one dared to touch Hector: the scent Lord Dracula rubbed on him was more than enough.

(Only Isaac noticed them, once. Hector had hoped that once, just that one time, he could love him more than their Lord. He bolted from the scene of the crime, instead.)

Hector, he told himself, no longer felt anything for the man he used to call his savior. He had left him to die: how could he? He was long dead and buried, never to touch him again.

And then the castle of lies fell in ruins when, the day they could at last consummate their love, Rosaly's fingers crept up his legs - Rosaly, sweet Rosaly, his innocent wife that loved him with the purity of a child.

Not there, he pleaded, or he would have if his voice could come out of his throat.

Rosaly hummed in what sounded like appreciation, and her fingers kept brushing over the sensitive skin.

"My, there isn't a part of you that isn't covered in scars. One day you'll have to tell me everything."

She was a gentle Christian woman. She had never set foot into Count Dracula's hellish realm. She could not recognize the bite of a vampire.

"Does it trouble you?"

"Me? Oh, no, not at all. I just think you're dashing."

She could not recognize the distinctive marks left by Dracula's teeth.