Feed from me - Miguel O’Hara x reader

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/47656132.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel (Comics), Marvel
Relationship: miguel o’hara/reader, Miguel O’Hara/female reader, Miguel O’Hara &
Reader
Character: Miguel O'Hara
Additional Tags: Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse - Freeform, Oneshot, Vampire Bites,
Vampire Sex, Blood Kink, Blood Drinking, Foreplay, Vaginal Fingering,
Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Dom/sub
Play, Missionary Position, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Tension,
Finger Sucking, Size Kink, Rough Kissing, Vampire Miguel O’Hara,
Praise Kink, Scent Kink, Breeding Kink, Light Bondage, Creampie,
Unprotected Sex, Aftercare, Soft Miguel O’Hara
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-06-04 Words: 2,901 Chapters: 1/2

Feed from me - Miguel O’Hara x reader

by sophxebx

Summary

She had never seen his face before. Every time he showed up, there was always silence
between them. Her job was to patch him up after fights. That was it. Until one night he
arrives at her apartment battling an insatiable hunger for blood.

Miguel O’Hara x reader

Notes

I watched Into the Spiderverse a few hours ago and boy, does Miguel have a chokehold on
me

So I thought to write some smut ☺️

This is written in third person btw!

Here’s part one! Enjoy!

He was late.

The clock chimed violently above her, causing her to jolt. She peered upwards and furrowed her
brow. An hour. He was an hour late. She shook her head.

She brushed her fingers across the thin scalpel she had in her medical kit. As always, she was set
up. Awaiting his arrival as patiently as she could. This was their routine. He’d show up at her
window and tap his knuckles against the glass three times. She’d let him in wordlessly and motion
towards the couch, where he’d perch himself and soon unravel whatever nasty wound he’d
managed to inflict upon himself. She’d clean and stitch for fifteen minutes before allowing him to
readjust his skintight suit once more. Then he’d leave through the window, bidding her a silent
goodbye.

She wasn’t quite sure how they’d both ended up in this routine. No - that was a lie. She knew how
it had happened.

It had been raining the night she spotted him on her apartment buildings fire escape stairwell. He
had been hunched over, gloves removed from his calloused hands as he swore and pressed his
palms against his lower abdomen. She remembered it being a gunshot wound. The bullet had
shattered on impact, leaving three pieces of silver fragments wedged under his skin.

She had poked her head out of her window and gasped at the sight of him. The blood was enough
to alert her that he was hurt, immediately causing her to offer her assistance. He had refused at first.
His tone stern and condescending but she insisted. She knew she had irritated him with her constant
whining about how he wasn’t supporting the wound correctly or how the cold weather would shut
his body down quicker, but nonetheless, a triumphant smile made its way onto her face when he
begrudgingly accepted her aid.

She had performed her job quickly and he soon scarpered away into the night. But what she didn’t
expect was for him to show up four nights later with a deep slash on his right thigh. She knew then
that it was the beginning of an unsettled agreement between them. She didn’t stop it and neither did
he. So they kept it going.

But tonight he was later than usual.

It was strange for him. He usually appeared at her window between 9:00pm and 11:00pm, but the
clock on her wall read midnight. Where was he?

She sighed to herself.

The tiredness of day was beginning to course through her body. Her shoulders were slumped and a
yawn would escape her mouth every five minutes or so. She was exhausted from a days work, so
waiting for him was even more draining.

She kept her legs tucked up to her chest as she waited. Five more minutes wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Her gaze hardened as she watched the clocks hands move. Then her gaze became glassy, her
eyelids growing heavier as she struggled to stay awake. She covered her mouth with her hand as
she yawned yet again. It was no use. She was too tired to wait any longer.

Shutting her medical kit and sliding it across the coffee table in her living room, she rose from the
couch. She stretched her arms above her head, a satisfying pop sounding from below her spine as
she ventured towards her bedroom. She changed into an oversized t-shirt and some underwear
when she reached her drawers, untangling her hair and throwing herself on her bed.

She buried her nose into her pillow as she tucked herself under the sheets, allowing her eyes to
flutter shut.

A loud bang outside her bedroom door was what startled her awake. She squinted her eyes as they
adjusted to the darkness of her bedroom. She snatched her phone from the nightstand and blinked.
It was 2:00am.

She heard something smash down the hallway, her heart beginning to thunder against her chest.
Someone was in her apartment. She swallowed and slipped out of bed, a part of her screaming and
begging her not to venture beyond her bedroom door, but she felt as if she had to.

Her trembling fingers gripped the door handle. The sweat on her palms moulded against the metal
as she pulled the handle downwards, cringing at the way the hinges creaked as she opened the
door. She froze for a moment, staring at the black hallway as silence greeted her.

She had shut the door to the living room before going to bed and she was certain that she had
switched off the lights too. But the yellow hue that creeped under the door made her paranoid.
Someone was definitely in her apartment.

Her heart pounded louder now, drumming in her ears as she tiptoed across the hallway. She bit
down on her lip hard, fearing that she may draw blood. It didn’t take her long before she reached
the next door. She flinched when another smash was heard on the other side, followed by a
strained groan. It made her panic.

Was she being robbed? Was someone scooping through her living room and kitchen? Were they
going to head towards her bedroom next?

She squeezed her eyes shut.

There was an eerie silence again. Goosebumps rose on her skin and she gripped the doorframe
tightly. With a shake of her head and a mumble for being too brave, she opened the door to the
living room.

She almost choked on her own scream when she saw a large figure hunched over her couch. Their
head was lowered and they had their hands buried in their hair. There was the faint smell of blood,
a metallic scent that engulfed her nose. Her eyes widened as she stepped further into the room.

The squeak of the floorboards caused the figure to look at her. She froze.

Cold, blood red eyes pierced through her. They held an intensity that kept her grounded, taking in
the sight of her with an angry hunger. She felt the words within her throat die as she took in the
sight of his face for the very first time.

He was…beautiful.

“You’re late,” she found herself whispering bravely, surprising both him and her.

She watched his shoulders flex as he readjusted himself on the couch, bringing a white knuckled
hand to his mouth and adverting his gaze from her.

“A-are you hurt?” She asked, taking a step into the room.
It caused him to snap, “don’t.”

His tone was threatening. Deep and wavering, as if he was struggling against an unforeseen enemy.
She frowned.

“What—“

“Don’t come any closer,” he warned her, narrowing his eyes as he glared at a spot on the living
room floor.

She ignored him. She stepped forward.

“L-let me help you,” she insisted, tugging on the hem of her oversized t-shirt in an attempt to cover
her bare thighs.

“I don’t want your help,” he snapped.

That made her fumble.

She tilted her head to the side, “then why come here?” She mumbled.

Now it was his turn to fall silent.

She was right. Why had he come to her?

His hunger for blood was the one thing he kept private, a dangerous, unstable part of his being that
he had yet to control. Tonight was one of those nights, where his hunger would whisper and moan.
He needed to feed and he knew that if he didn’t, he’d grow out of control. Usually, he’d feed off
his enemies. He didn’t enjoy doing it, but it kept him satisfied and quenched enough that he could
thrive without blood for a couple of days. But tonight’s errands hadn’t gone the way he had
planned as the police had gotten involved, swooping away his only source of food. Now, he was
ravenous. Almost drooling at the corner of his lips as his throat became sore and raspy.

He felt stupid. A fool for even thinking that turning up at her apartment was a good idea. If
anything, he had put her in even more danger as his self control was beginning to slip. He closed
his eyes for a moment and exhaled, refusing to look at her any further. The sight of her bare skin
was enough to drive his mind wild, but the sound of her thudding heart and the pulsating veins
along her neck made him salivate. He had to keep himself grounded, for her sake.

At his silence, she sighed. She wrapped her arms around herself cautiously, not liking the guarded
behaviour he was displaying. Something was off. He was struggling and she found herself disliking
it. She inched forward again, encouraging herself to stand nearer to him. She saw him tense as she
neared, the movement making her halt.

Was it her? Was she the problem?

Her voice wavered as she spoke, “let me help you,” she pleaded, “please, if you’re hurt, let me
help you.”

He surprised her when he let out a groan. It was the sound an animal would make if it was gravely
injured. A pained noise that caused him to lower his head again.

“It’s not that…” she barely heard him when he spoke, “I’m not hurt.”

“You’re not?” She frowned, inching closer. The only thing that separated them now was the
wooden coffee table she had in her living room, “what’s wrong—“

A hiss escaped her as she heard something crunch underneath her foot. She was quick to draw
herself backwards, her eyes flickering down to the shattered picture frame that she had failed to
notice. An unpleasant look crossed her face as the sole of her foot began to thump. Carefully, she
lifted her leg slightly and peered at her foot, noticing a deep cut across the skin. She had stepped
on some glass.

“Fuck.”

At his sudden hoarse tone, she lifted her head. He was staring at her foot, watching as blood began
to dot the carpet beneath her feet. There was something dark within his gaze, the unexpected shift
causing her to step back. But that wasn’t all.

The fangs. Those fangs that protruded from his mouth and glimmered in the dim light of her living
room made her sweat with fear.

Her breathing quickened, “what are you?”

The question made his tongue slide across his teeth, the coppery scent of her blood causing his
nostrils to flare. He dug his nails into his thighs and shook his head. He stood up from the couch,
daring himself to move towards her. She staggered back slightly, the wood of the bookcase she had
in the far corner of the living room digging into her back. She didn’t even realise she’d move away
from him so much until now.

He was tall. So incredibly tall. His muscles flexed under the texture of his suit as he moved,
towering over her like a dark shadow. She gripped her t-shirt in her fists tightly, chest rising and
falling as his red gaze roamed over her body. He stopped before he could stand before her properly,
putting a safe distance between them.

“Are you afraid?” He asked in a whisper.

She shuddered, “yes…”

“Don’t be,” he told her, “I won’t hurt you.”

She peered up at him, allowing herself to appreciate his face for the first time. His eyes were a
deep red, his skin a flourish of deep amber and his hair was a disheveled shade of brown. It was not
how she had imagined him at all, but up close, she was beginning to enjoy the sight of him.
Despite the fangs that peeked as he spoke.

“I know…” she whispered.

Her answer caught him off guard. His cool expression faltered as she leaned forward, bringing the
tips of her fingers towards his mouth. He was quick to grasp her wrist, his hold on her soft but
warning.

“That’s why you’re here,” she finally realised his struggle as she spoke, “you’re hungry.”

“Don’t,” he shook his head, “I don’t want to hurt you,” he mumbled.

She knew he wouldn’t hurt her. She trusted him enough to know that he’d never endanger her like
that. But she also knew that if he was really struggling against his hunger like he appeared to be, he
wouldn’t have come to her like he had. The desperation in his eyes pulled at her heart strings. She
wanted to help him. That’s all she had ever wanted to do.
Gulping, a sudden jolt of confidence coursed through her as she shifted her free hand up towards
her neck. He watched intently as she pulled down her t-shirt, exposing her neck and left shoulder to
him. He focused his attention on the shimmer of her bare skin and the freckles that littered it. It
made his mouth go dry.

“Feed from me,” she told him quietly.

His grip on her wrist tightened, “I can’t.”

“You can,” she sounded bolder this time, “you won’t hurt me. You said so yourself.”

He couldn’t help the twitch of his mouth, “I could kill you,” he whispered.

She sighed uneasily, “you won’t.”

He stared at her for a moment. The determination within her eyes made him breathe heavily. He
glanced down at the skin of her neck, letting go of her wrist and timidly brushing his hand against
her jugular. She froze under his touch, the intimacy of it making her feel warm.

“You trust me?” He questioned, unsure.

She spoke shyly, “let me help you, please.”

The consent from her lips was all it took to make his control snap. She gasped when she felt his
large hands fall on her waist, dragging her towards him as he settled himself back on the couch.
Her face flushed a shade of pink as he forced her to straddle his muscular thighs, one of his hands
moving her t-shirt to the side.

He wasted no time in attaching his lips to the side of her neck, making her flinch at their coolness.
He kissed her softly, trailing along her jaw, neck and shoulder. She subconsciously allowed her
head to fall back, her small hands gripping the tensed muscles of his biceps as he locked her in
place. She felt him suck her neck tightly.

It caused her to screw her eyes shut.

He kissed the same spot on her neck over and over, wetting the skin slightly as if readying her for
his incoming intrusion. His large hands wrapped around her back, one gripping the nape of her
neck as he leaned into the crook of her shoulder.

With a deep inhale, engulfing the rich scent of her lavender body wash and her musky sweat that
was beginning to form, he opened his mouth wide and sunk his fangs into her neck.

She jolted at the pain, a loud cry erupting from the crevices of her throat. Her grip on his arms
tightened, nails digging into his suit as he buried his fangs deeper. The sensation was anything but
pleasurable. He sucked from her in long gulps, her blood tainting his lips and the corners of his
mouth. He hummed against her at the fulfilment of his hunger, feeling her squirm and hearing her
wail softly.

Her eyes began to prick with tears, her neck throbbing with a fiery sting as he bit deeper, his bottom
teeth nipping her. His hand gripped the back of her head to keep her still as she writhed, her small
hands pushing against his chest. The wriggling of her body on top of his made him groan, the lack
of clothing she was wearing making it difficult for him not to fully indulge in her.

She was panting by the time he retracted himself from her, the slide of his fangs as they left her
flesh making her whimper. She fell against him and heaved, his arms encircling her back in a
comforting notion. After a minute or so, he pushed her back and moved her hair from her neck. The
marks he’d left were beginning to turn purple, blood still seeping. He leant forward and lapped up
the remaining droplets with his tongue, a hiccup escaping her.

He looked at her closely and brushed his thumb across her cheek, swiping away at a strand tear
that had escaped her eye.

She blinked, moving her hands up to his shoulders and calming herself.

“You alright?” He asked with worry.

“It hurts,” she admitted, the aching within her neck making her whine.

“I know,” he muttered, kissing her neck again, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she told him with a small smile on her lips, “I wanted to help you.”

To her surprise, he mirrored her smile. His hands came to rest on her hips, his thumbs circling
against her sides. They stared at each other for a moment, her gaze focused on the trail of blood
that had dribbled down his chin. Bravely, she used her finger to swipe it away. He watched her
every move, allowing her to place her finger into his mouth, to which he licked it clean.

The action made her redden.

“Thank you,” he spoke in a raspy tone, pressing his forehead against hers.

She hummed tiredly in acknowledgement, not wanting to leave the warm embrace of his arms. She
could feel him flex underneath her as he shifted, pulling her body closer to him. He didn’t want to
leave just yet.

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