Hi, my angel! Yes ofc, I hope this is sort of what you had in mind? Just a wee tiny Drabble but I might expand after I write werewolf!whitaker for other anon too! Xx

Tws and tags: vampire!whitaker, blood, he’s kind of a perv if you squint because I’m such a loser for that kind of thing oops, a touch suggestive towards the end with a bit of fantasising.

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It really hadn’t been on purpose. A slight nick. Steel on skin, but the second he smells it his entire body goes rigid. Hairs on end like a cat.

The smell of copper fills his senses and he is reminded suddenly and sharply of just how hungry he really is. He hasn’t fed for a while. Always too skittish and nervous to do anything more than pierce the occasional storage blood bag. He’d been doing so well for so long, gotten used to the scent of blood around him. Trained himself to not flinch anymore - divorce the idea of feeding from its reality.

But your scent is too much. The coppery tang mixed with your perfume was intoxicating. Choking really. He could almost see the vapours from your body rise around you, dancing, teasing, making their way over to him. Clawing at his senses and fraying his self control.

“You alright?” You ask, noticing his eyes trained on your finger as you wipe the blood off. He nods slow, mindless, more zombie than vampire for a moment before he snaps himself out of it.

“Oh, shit, yeah- sorry… weird day…” he offers, not taking his eyes off your finger. You follow them down to the cut.

“I’ll be fine,” you laugh lightly “you could bandage it up if you’re so worried about me?” You wink. It’s meant to be lighthearted, it’s always fun to tease him. He falters for a moment, running through a slew of mental option.

“Y…yeah.. sure, alright, yeah, I’ll help ya.” He nods, an idea dawning on him. He fumbles around for a first aid kit. Nimble fingers find bandages and alcohol wipes. He doesn’t bother with a glove. Unprofessional for a hospital but it’s only you.

“Just have to check it’s not too deep..” he murmurs, pressing the cut between his fingers to draw a little blood. It beads at your fingers a little and he swipes it with his index finger, moving it away after. He cleans it and puts a plaster on and gives you a tap. You thank him and smile and move to leave the room.

After you go he waits till the door clicks closed and his finger is in his mouth before the sound finishes echoing through the room. Fucking hell.

This is bad. Horrible. Terrible. The worst thing that’s ever happened to him in his entire undead life. You taste even better than you smell and his head rushes just from a taste. He can’t imagine how it’d feel to have it straight from you. Teeth sinking into your neck… the way you’d shiver underneath his deft fingers… maybe you’d enjoy it… you’d let out soft moans as he… fuck.

The worst thing that’s ever happened to him in his entire undead life.