BLOODSUCKER

BLOODSUCKER

Masterlist

Alcina Dimitrescu x reader headcannons

Alcina doesn’t love in a way that mortals could understand. It’s consuming, eternal obsession. Once you catch her eye, she claims you. Any attempt at distance or defiance only tightens her grip.

You live in luxury, not freedom. The castle becomes your velvet-lined prison. She dresses you in silks, spoils you with rare wines and jewels, but never lets you leave the estate.

Her hunger for your blood is no different from her desire. She loves to taste you. Your wrist, your throat, your inner thigh. Sometimes she takes you in her lap, whispering sweet nothings, then sinks her fangs in mid-sentence.

Any servant who looks at you too long goes missing. Sometimes, you find traces, the scent of blood, a stray shoe. Alcina makes it clear: you are not to be touched.

Alcina delights in reducing you to something small, helpless, and completely dependent on her. She calls you pet, little one, darling.

Disobedience has its price. She’ll bend you over a gilded vanity, force you to watch yourself while she punishes you—slow, aching strokes, rough fingers, cruel praise. She whispers in your ear, “Look how beautiful you are when you cry for me.”

She loves you — violently. It’s not sweet, it’s not tender. It’s a hunger that never ends. She’ll ruin you in every way. Mind, body, soul. And then she’ll cradle your broken form, kiss your tears away, and say it was all for love.