Any Chance Of Support Team With A Reader Who's A Vampire And Needs To Feed?? Thanks 👍🦇

Any chance of support team with a reader who's a vampire and needs to feed?? Thanks 👍🦇

love bites ; support team x vamp!reader

pairing: medic/sniper/spy x gn!reader

authors note: hello! i love this ask a lot omg, thanks for sending this in! written romantically. also i apologize if this is like. too formally written. 😭

disclaimer: obvious mentions of blood/the loss of it, description of being bitten, and suggestive parts with each merc… especially Spy’s and Sniper’s! (i also apologize if my vampiric facts are incorrect! enjoy reading!)

MEDIC:

The grumble of your stomach was hard to ignore, teeth salivating and aching for the mere taste of skin; of blood. The pierce, the reward of breaking through the skin... a flavor and its bitter taste was a craving you left untouched... yet, you couldn't let it be. Not as it stood mockingly, a need you couldn't turn down.

You groaned under your breath as you clutched your jaw, a starved look shared with the doctor as he stood knowingly. "Do you hunger, liebling?" He finally spoke, breaking through that wall of desperate silence. Medic was looking down at his clipboard, his hands slipping through pages as he leaned against his table. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress any impulsive decision that crept into your mind. He looked up at you expectantly. "If you wish, I have spare pouches in the fridge... I know you prefer boar, but I also have cow, if you so wish." He knew you forbade human blood upon your own devising... but Medic knew how frustrating it can be; not getting your full, left only partially satisfied.

You had kept your voice silent for passing moments, and Medic noticed this quick enough. The man lifted his head completely now, sharing eye-to-eye, a new hunger. He read you closely. The motion of your tongue across your pearled fang, the growl of your stomach, the ache in the jaw... Medic knew what you wanted.

Slowly, he let the clipboard slide atop his desk, released from his hand as he approached you. Your jaw clenched, stepping back slowly before hitting the sink. You didn't want to, you didn't want to hurt him... your tongue hiding your fangs desperately as he leaned closely to you. Medic arched his neck, his eyes focused on the mirror behind you. You gulped. "Go ahead."

"I can't. You know that," you began, tempted. "I can't hurt you, let alone threaten your loss of blood... what if I don't stop?" Your voice spoke with worry, heart racing; blood pumping, and mind fogging.

"I am a doctor," he replied, his hand sliding down from his button-down collar to his neck; exposing himself fully now. "I have my ways. Iss auf, meine Liebe."

Your eyes were now focused on his neck, the vein pumping with fresh blood... pure and untouched. Desperate enough, your breath shivered, and slowly, you brought your teeth in contact with his skin... warm. The pulse against your lip, his steady breaths, his permission. It was enough.

Finally, your teeth sunk into his neck, your hands now pressed against his shoulders as you began to drink. Your mind was revitalized with sensation, enough that you hadn't heard Medic's hushed native tongue. His hands were planted on either side of the sink, your body clasped to his; Medic's body a pillar, reliable for your balance.

But you had felt your stomach finally conclude from its incessant groans, fangs contracting from the pulsing wound. "Scheiße..." Medic cursed, his teeth had sunk into his lip. Blood pearled at the two pricks, and you frowned. "Don't pout, dove. I will be alright." He kissed your forehead, short and sweet, before leading himself away from you. He was now sitting at his desk to regain his balance.

Your hand had hovered over your mouth, the taste of his blood sinking into the cuts of your lips.

“Feel better?” The man hummed, his hand holding a piece of gauze to his neck, his figure relaxed and observing… but he knew the answer. You were standing with such vitality. From when you would feed on animal blood you were constantly tired… slumped and with a lack of energy... but with that short feed, you were anew.

“Yes, much.” you spoke shyly. You had then approached him, a hand resting at his forehead… but it did not stall long. Medic had gently taken your hand and let it fall to his cheek; he kissed the inside of your palm.

“Bitte… don’t worry about me,” and with that he swiftly grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him to fall into his hold. “You’re glowing.”

SNIPER:

When you had first told Sniper about your origin, it took him a moment to fully comprehend it. Of course, he loves you the way you are, don’t get the man wrong… but a vampire? The man was stunned… but nonetheless, intrigued.

It was just past midnight, the click of your watch alerting you subconsciously… and the longer you waited for your lover, the more your stomach churned and twisted with a burning hunger. Your fangs ached, salivating at the mere idea of feasting… and you needed help.

As you sat in your lover’s van, you heard a small click and a whoosh of a door opening. You suspected it was him, with a lift of your head and a raise of your brow, you rose from your seat. “Hey,” you spoke first. Sniper took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re back late.”

“Miss Pauling had a make-up meetin' with us,” he informed you. You huffed. “Nothin’ to worry about, jus’ somethin’ she missed. How are you doing?” Quick to change the topic of conversation, subject to his past boredom… he slumped on the couch where you last sat. You look down at him with a pained look. He studied you silently, raising a brow.

“I’m hungry and I need to… I need to eat.” You announced, voice hushed due to the matter being new in his mind... you simply wished not to scare him away.

Sniper was new to the feeding thing… knowing it wouldn’t make any difference if you ate legitimate food. You’d still crave the taste of blood. The Australian hummed in response, his cheeks flushing at the mere idea of…

“What would happen if I was your meal?” He asked. His blunt question leaves you blinking. His inquiry left unnoticed as he motioned for you to go on with a lift of his chin.

“Well… if you were to get bitten, you might suffer from lethargy. But you wouldn’t turn,” you were quick to inform. “I need to drain you completely in order to do so.” As you educated the man on the basics, he found no reason to disagree. Shit, he might get some well-deserved sleep afterward. "It's a lot to ask for. Please don't feel obligated to... animal blood suffices just fine."

"But it's not quite filling, now is it?" With his interjection, you gulped. The corner of his mouth rose in a knowing smile. But it fell soon after. "Sit down," Sniper instructed... and certainly not asking you to.

You followed and let yourself fall beside him. Sniper was sitting on his side, sleeves rolled up, arms bare and muscle evident from holding his weapon every day. (If not, all day.) The Australian also wore a watch... his fist folded in as he leaned against his knuckles, the leather of the accessory worn for years now. Perhaps something his father had owned, or a pass-me-down.

"It's going to hurt just... just for a second," you spoke. He raised an eyebrow. "You might feel dizzy afterward, so don't stand up too fast. I won't take a drop more than I need, I promise."

The Australian couldn't stand it anymore. He lifted his arms, fist leaving his resting face as one of his hands grasped your exposed thigh, lifting you to take a seat on his lap. A sound of surprise left your throat as his hands began to rest just above your hips... his eyes spoke nothing of deceit. Eyes pure with approval. "Eat."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat unleaving as you brought your eyes to his exposed neck. Your hands began to move without thought, and slowly, lowering the collar of his shirt to display him completely. Your lips parted, leaning down towards the side of his jaw... the heat of your breath against his pulse drove you crazy. And crazy enough, to finally pierce through his veil of skin. The man hissed. You didn't need to look at him to know his face contorted to the prick of pain. Sniper's hold on your hips began to tighten, trying his best to remain still as you served on his blood.

The taste was desirable; and incredibly addicting. You found no control over yourself, having not eaten like this in decades... but the more you drank, the more Sniper fell weaker... you noticed this when his hands slowly loosened his grip from your sides. Your fangs retracted and a pitiful sigh left your throat when his taste left you. Sniper was the first to speak. "'I won't take a drop more than I need,' they say..." You were quick to launch a playful hit to his arm, the man letting out a huff of laughter. Sniper's hand lifted to rest on his shoulder, the other resting just above your thigh. "Are you full, love?" He asked, awaiting your response as your hand raised to swipe the smear of blood on your chin.

"Yes... how are you feeling, right now?" You asked, head tilting with curiosity as let his head fall back. Your lip quirked up humorously.

"M'tired," he was left mumbling. "Mind if I rest?" You chuckled, falling beside him, but your legs remained rested just above his lap.

"Go on," you permitted... though it wouldn't have taken much, you knew the man would pass out any second regardless. "I told you you'd fall to lethargy, Snipe." And with your remark, it was left hanging in the air in silence until the sound of Sniper's snoring broke through it.

SPY:

The fire cracked and roared a low hum, warmth embracing the room with its bright flame. Spy sat in his master chair, one hand holding a book, while the other held a cigarette... his lips pulling from the smoke every now and then. You were scrolling through his library, hands grazing the spines, the pages... the scent of aged books spoke of history. But with every novel and piece of literature that left its respective shelf, the discomfort of your famished stomach kept your mind preoccupied.

Frustrated, you slid the book back with the others.

Your once idle figure had sauntered off towards Spy, your crossed arms laid on the back of his chair. He noticed this. "Yes, chérie?" His eyes still wandered his page, but you suspected his mind wasn't in touch with its words once you enlightened his company. Spy wasn't complaining. You pouted.

"I'm hungry," you announced. "Just a quick bite?" You asked sweetly, the only way you knew you could convince him. Spy always surrenders to you somehow... even if it takes some adamant persuading. The Frenchman sighed, his index finding the corner of his page, indicating his mind was occupied with the fact he was almost finished. "Spy?"

"You can wait one more chapter, oui?" Spy knew of your vampiric origin quite fast... faster than any other merc, aside from Medic, of course. It never scared him, he knew better. You were the same person as you were before and knew you never masked innocence. (As far as innocence goes, in this line of work.)

Your eyebrows knitted together, impatience taking control of your response. "C'mon, it'll be quick... it always is!" You twisted your body to lean in next to him, eyes desperately trying to catch Spy's eye... but he remained stubborn. By any god above, he always was.

"I'd rather you not rush your dinner." Spy spoke simply, his gloved hand finally turning the page. But with this attempt, your hand grasped his.

"If you make me wait, I'll have no choice but to rush my dinner,” and with your logical response, Spy felt the need to take your words into consideration. The man hummed, his mind falling loose of his stories inevitable ending. “Please?” He felt as though the book could wait.

Spy shifted in his seat, you stepping back a bit with a new rise in relief… the man tried to sit as formally as he could, as always. “Continue…” Taking this as your permission to continue, one hand grasped his shoulder while the other held the arm of his chair… your head dipped, your eyes met with cloth. You frown. Your hands then lift from their previous positions, a finger clipping under his mask, attempting to slip it over his head. Spy hesitates, his head turning away instinctively… and suddenly he’s facing you, met with your own eyes. Spy slowly gives in to you.

With the hook of your index finger, you continued to pull the mask off, revealing the man completely. His hair peppered with white streaks; grey hairs complimenting his intensity perfectly… he was vulnerable. Vulnerable to you.

Tearing from your shared eye-contact, you flared your teeth before pricking his vein perfectly. You felt Spy’s jaw clench, a small smile tugging at your lips at his reaction as you continue to feed.

His taste was rich; rich and thick… potent as though made from wine and smoke, a taste irreplaceable even from the wealthiest of kings. And with every nip and drink, you fell right back into his trickiest of holds.

The man began to fall in his seat, seemingly to get more comfortable. He laid back, head leaning against the head of his seat; hair ruffling up from its velvet. Spy’s vest had begun to ride up, a small French curse leaving his lips… but before he could fall completely to your vampiric desires, you retracted your fangs… knowing you couldn’t take more.

“Done already?” He spoke the best he could, voice feigning strength and formality. Spy’s hand raised to meet his neck, it ached.

“Any more and you’d be passed out, my love.” You reply knowingly, wiping the run-away blood droplets from your lips. Spy swallowed hard before clearing his throat, he sat up in his seat the best he could.

“Right… well, we should get some sleep, oui?” You raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that look, ma batte. I’m fine.” And though he reassured you the best he could, you knew he was lying through his teeth… and he did too.

“Last time when you left your ego untamed you nearly fainted.” Spy flushed an embarrassing red at this, fully aware his wasn’t there to hide it. Why did he agree to this. You sighed, approaching him before grabbing his mask, handing it to him. “If it makes you feel better, it happens with everyone.” You smiled warmly, he took the mask and let out an annoyed tsk… exaggerated, of course.

“Looking at other necks? I’m offended.” He spoke plainly, examining his mask… feeling an odd wave of leaving it be. Noticing this, you took his book and hopped up on the arm of the chair… your legs planted beside his thighs on the seat to balance yourself. “Whatcha reading anyway?” Spy’s eyebrows twitched in response to you. “Franz… Kafka, really?! With the salesman monster guy!”

“Ah, yes. The Metamorphosis…” And though he spoke low, voice grumbling in what seemed irritation… it wasn’t this way. He simply felt. Seen. More than he was used to. He didn’t quite know how to feel about it.

Being a man masked all his life; his swift, backstabbing career forcing him to reveal very little… it was difficult to open up, especially for someone so refusing to do so. Spy felt himself slowly open up to you. Although, begrudgingly, I do say… it isn’t an easy process.

But lo, the night eased into its end, the soft crackle of the fire accompanying the Frenchman’s voice as he read to you… and within his shared company, you felt as though he was warming up.

In thought, who would let someone as sharp as you be so open to the idea of giving your body and soul to the other? A certain mercenary of course… but truly intoxicating in its vampiric concept.

But to be put in simpler words…

He just liked you.

.

.

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rorichuu!