#[ headcanon ] this above all: thine own self be true.

[janumun]

Any Shakespeare NSFW HCS? I loved the first one you did for our beloved shady yandere ❤ (Bunny boy needs some love please)

Darling Rose, how did you know I left out some NSFW HCs from my last list? 😆 Since you asked, why, who am I to deny this any longer? xD

Here are my further headcanons, continuing right where I left off on my last post, new readers can find here. I hope you enjoy these! 

.

William Shakespeare

Trigger Warnings: Blood (play), 

Think your neck is the only place a vampire can bite into, to make you dissolve into frustrated pools of desire and lust? Let Shakespeare correct your misconceptions, fair maiden, give you a glimpse of the true pleasure to be derived from fangs piercing skin.

He’s propelling his hips into you; his movements fluid, a sort of slow torture. You lost possession of your voice a long time back and yet the man above still eyes you in mild dissatisfaction.

Bringing your hand up to a smile smooth as satin, his lips lay a graceful kiss to the back of your hand, grazing just against your knuckles. The gesture is gentlemanly, so jarring against the onslaught of his body on yours. The smile of a man who seeks to court the woman of his dreams, even as his hands slip beneath her skirts to do things unspeakable, shameful.

He’s turning your hand around, gentle in his grasp, to lay a kiss against the softness of your palm, lips gliding towards translucent skin overlying bluish, fragile vessels.

“Would thou allow this humble soul a taste of thy sweet nectar? Alas, it taunts me, saccharine and pure, just out of reach.”

You think you feel yourself nodding, the anticipation of pleasure drying the moisture from your throat.

An awful sound, of skin breaking, his mouth settling above to take what is his but you forget the pain, in exchange for the pleasure he gives you.

You’re throwing your head back, open mouth clawing the breath back into your lungs to scream, writhing in his grasp like the sorry prey you are and don’t mind being.

Blood. Your blood. Flowing down like vessels sprung forth from your skin but Shakespeare would not tolerate the waste.

Fingers are swiping the blood off the skin of your forearm, index and middle reaching to smear your parted mouth red in a macabre show of rouge against lips.

He’s looking down at you, wild fey that he is. The look in his eyes surreal, just as his very existence, he’s swooping down to prey upon your lips, lapping at their plush softness for every single remaining drop. His grip on your injured wrist remains, hard, staunching the flow of further blood.

You have so graciously agreed to be his, for all of your life, but he wishes for validation of your love, even from your lips at times a lot of times

Your breath is but a frosty memory, spun white onto the glass against your cheeks, your fingers, before it disappears just as silently, only to be replaced anew, with the urgency of his thrusts against you.

His pants are as wild as yours now, a tiny part of you afraid of being spotted by any passers-by outside as you two fuck against his window, your exposed self a bawdy show for any and all to see.

“Do not fret, my dear.” He calls to you as if he can read your thoughts and perhaps he can. “Do I fail to keep your mind occupied? The thought is daggers to my heart. You are in mine, every beat, every word. It would sadden me to know you feel differently.”

You’re shaking your head with the rocking of your body. “N-No, I-I… Shakespeare, you’re in all my thoughts too, I don’t know what to do with myself. A-Ah… I love you so much… mn…”

A small kiss, a happy kiss. Against the back of your neck. A hand coming around to splay itself across your left breast, pressing in hard. “Ah, thine own heart does indeed burn for me.”

“And thy breaths–" He’s moving a hand to wrap around the column of your neck to feel your stuttering whimpers, the sound and taste of them, driving him to his finish.

Lives for the more theatric of displays during sex. The man’s known as the world’s greatest playwright, what else did you expect?

Mirrors all over his mansion, double the amount of which are housed within his chambers. He likes to light scented candles and put on some of your shared favorite musical records to get you two in the mood. More than watching himself within his endless mirrors, he got them put up to watch you. Your expressions as you’re left exposed and vulnerable to his tender mercies.

He’s spreading your legs, your body set upright in front of the biggest looking-glass in his room, him behind you, you on your knees. He’s pulling at the blood red ribbon around your eyes, robbing you of sight, enough to pull your head back onto his shoulder, leaving your neck exposed for a taste. He’s breathing in your scent, nuzzling into the crescent of your neck, eyes upturned to stare at your shared reflection as his hand reaches down to spread your folds for him to see.

Gleeful, hungry eyes are drinking in the sight of your nectar overflowing abundantly from in between your legs, as he moves to position his hard cock against your entrance. Your insides taking him in just as easy, he moves to mask his groans by sinking his fangs into your soft flesh.

 .

End Notes: Alright, I’m dry now lol. Thanks for reading.

#william shakespeare #ikevamp shakespeare #ikemen vampire #ns//fw text #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp smut #a pickle writes #ikemen vampire shakespeare #janussary