You certainly love your poor himbo!vampire lover, but he’s definitely not the sharpest tool in the shed.
Like all vampires, his saliva has healing properties so his victims don’t bleed out during his feedings. Because of this, he’s taken to freaking out when you get injured and immediately licking the wound, planting a soft kiss on it after.
He smells your blood, and he gets nervous. The man adores you, he’d be lost if you died!
So when you woke up to the soft ache in your cunt being combated by the pleasure of your boyfriend sucking on your clit, you were quite confused.
As you rubbed your sleepy eyes, you heard your boyfriend choking on his sobs, tears rolling down his pale cheeks as his hands held onto your thighs.
“Y-you’re gonna be okay, angel. Going to… going to make it better…” he blubbered, your blood dripping down his chin before he moved back to your aching cunt.
“Love…”
He sniffled as you reached out a hand to cup his cheek, gently swiping your blood from his lip. “I’m not injured, I’m just on my period.”
Your lover blinked, his eyes going wide, and you could tell if he could blush his cheeks would be a bright red with embarrassment.
“O-oh…”
As he pulled away, you grabbed him by the hair and guided his lips back to your pussy. “But you’re still helping, sweet thing.”
His eyes softened and he settled back down between your thighs, his cheek resting against your belly as he softly nuzzled against it. “Then I’ll take care of you… I’ll always take care of you, my angel…”
So you sat back and relaxed as he fed, making sure to gently push you over the edge and ease your pain.
a/n: um. i've only been thinking about nicholas chavez for the past two weeks.
It felt like Hell out here. Or what you’d imagine it to feel like, at least.
Out in the gardens, nuns at every flower bed getting to work. The hot rays of the September sun beaming down on you. Beads of sweat dripped under your habit, the neckline of your white long-sleeve feeling tighter than ever before. You were assisting Mother Superior in collecting food for tonight’s supper.
“Sister, please go gather the strawberries in the greenhouse. They should be fresh enough,” Mother Superior ordered, handing you an old, woven basket. You didn’t hesitate, wanting to find solace in the cold greenhouse. You opened the doors, already cooling down as a chill breeze wafted over you. The doors shut and you began to peruse the aisles between the strawberry beds.
With the heatwave hitting your small, desert town, most of the fruits and vegetables were hardly surviving outside in the gardens. But here, the strawberries thrived. Fresh, red as blood, laying beautifully in their beds. You wanted to pick them all.
Pushing your sleeves up your arms, you grabbed the first big, red strawberry you saw, picking it off and dusting it off on the black fabric of your habit. You brought it to your lips, inhaling the fresh scent of the fruit.
“Theft is a sin, Sister.”
At the familiar voice, you looked up, spotting Father Charlie on the other side of the strawberry bed from you. You stared at him, noticing his tense face. Then, slowly, you took a bite of the strawberry. Red juices coated your lips, dripping down your chin and staining the white shirt you wore under your habit.
Father Charlie cracked a grin, a chuckle leaving his lips as he began to walk around the strawberry beds. He got to the end of the aisle when he started speaking.
“Mind if I help you, Sister?” he asked, his red boots clicking against the cold tile of the greenhouse, getting closer and closer. You nodded just as he stopped, leaving a foot of space between you two.
“Of course, Father,” you smiled, holding out the basket for him. His hand covered yours on the handle, your eyes meeting for a moment too long before you looked away. He took the basket fully from you, standing by your side as you began to pick the fruit. As the basket got half full, Father Charlie spoke again.
“Your hands are getting stained,” he mentioned, making you look down at your hands. A faint, red color covered your fingers, making you sigh. You went to brush it off on your habit, but Father Charlie’s hand reached out. He grabbed your wrist, bringing your hand to his lips. Then, with his dark eyes locked on yours, he wrapped his lips around your pointer and middle fingers, cleaning the stain with swirls of his tongue. Your eyes watched as he sucked lightly on your fingers, and when he pulled away, you were speechless.
“Say thank you, Sister,” he said lowly, still holding onto your wrist. His grip was tight–tight enough for you to notice. You blinked, still in a daze.
“Thank you, Father,” you whispered, noticing a small smirk meet his lips. He turned your wrist in his hand, looking down at your palm. He brushed his fingers over the skin, humming.
“Such soft hands, Sister,” he murmured, his calloused fingers rubbing against your hand. They trailed down to your wrist and forearm, tracing your veins. “You shouldn’t be doing all this labor. I’ll get someone to take over for you, okay?”
You were taken out of your daze as he released your hand, starting to leave down the aisle. You picked up your skirt and rushed after him.
“Father, it’s alright,” you tried to tell him as he headed to the door. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Yes you do,” he interrupted, stopping in his tracks. You nearly bumped into his back, your shoes screeching to a halt. He turned on his heel, and you looked up at him, eyes wide. “You’re helping me prepare for my Pedaling Priest session, Sister. Don’t you remember?”
No, you didn’t, because you hadn’t discussed it before. But you couldn’t deny him, not with the way he was looking down at you.
“Right,” you breathed, nodding slowly. “It must’ve slipped my mind. I’m sorry, Father.”
He smiled, bringing his thumb to his lips. He licked the pad of his digit before moving to cup your cheek and wipe the strawberry juice from your chin earlier. Then, his thumb pressed against your lips, pushing into your mouth. “I forgive you, Sister,” he murmured, leaning in and watching you suck on his thumb. He pulled his hand away, gently patting your cheek before waving for you to follow him. “Now, come. I need to prep you. It’ll be a long session.”
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