outofchar. throwin this back out there because hell y eah i’m manly as fuck like tbh the manliest motherfucker to every do a manly thing ever

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hesinsatiable is typing..."...you're not doing a horrible job as you think you are." a shrug from the youth.

    ’ what makes you believe that I think I’m doing a horrible job? ‘

  to his knowledge, he’s never voiced this belief
  though it is true.

      ’ the police plan a raid on a home.  they know beyond the shadow of doubt
       that the man they are looking for, John, is inside the home.  when they bust
       down the door, they see four people sitting at a table playing poker.  there is
       a mailman, a firefighter, a plumber, and a taxi driver.  without pause, they
       arrest the taxi driver.  how did they know that John was the taxi driver? ‘

  a riddle.
  seemingly out of place but
  it had a place.
  he liked to explain things using



      The dogs are gone, well— Dr. Bloom has them,
      Crawford keeps eyeing him like he’s guilty as well.
      There are looks and questions thrown his way from
      the morbidly curious, yet the only thing he can say
      to the man in the cell is: “It’s not the same.”

      ’ not the same?  in what way? ‘

  countless things have changed but he isn’t sure what exactly is being
  discussed. and, at least for him, things had become clearer.  
  now he could see.  the fog had dispersed and
  the wendigo no longer hid in the shadows.  
  he was in plain sight.
  things had changed long before now.
  before will made it here.
  things hadn’t been the same for a while.
  not since hannibal lecter was allowed to disrupt the natural order of things.

hesinsatiable is typing..." If there was a way to make things easier, would you even consider it? "

     ’ That would depend. ‘

  if something sounded too good to be true
  —— it probably was.
  there were many things Will wanted
  and one of them was for things to return to a state of normalcy
  but there were things he would not sacrifice
  and he was not sure how many more of his morals
  he was willing to sacrifice.

Anonymous is typing...(misconception) will is a bottom bitch for hannibal

outofchar. no, i don’t think so.  i mean… its hard to answer this because i don’t really ship hannigram except with like one person and in certain au’s.  i can be persuaded to ship it, but i’m back and forth on it.  either way, i don’t think will could be described as a ‘bottom bitch’ in any sort of sexual relationship.  he’s not an innocent little kitten.

A killer’s serenade | 1950sAU | pureempath


How should he describe the running emotions that are going underneath his skin? It’s something physical no doubt, but it stings just the same as lovemaking. And they haven’t even started yet. Hannibal’s curiosity on what is Will going to do with him and what does Will think he is going to do with him enthralls him, like having a bottle full of fireflies and shaking it from time to time to see the light coming out of their bodies. Will’s reactions come as nature’s gift from the rarest kind, like a prize after searching for someone as special as him for a long, long time now. And now that he has him, he’s clueless as to what he wants to do with him. He’s a new toy, a brand new toy that carries his name imprinted on his skin and the doctor is going to make himself sure his companion does realize about it soon.

The thumb is soon replaced by his lips, melting into Will’s in a soft, gentle kiss. He doesn’t close his eyes, he prefers to look at Will’s eyelashes shut, the thin black threads covering hazel eyes, the beauty of his skin so close to his. And his tongue dives inside, recognizes his territory, teeth, mouth, skin and saliva. Once he breaks it, he kisses his eyes and forehead, a kind gesture, like the prelude of a storm that’s at about to come.

A twitch and the immediate feeling of cold and heat under Will’s touch forces Hannibal to stop himself from moaning or purring. He’s never been so aroused like this by any man or woman before. Perhaps the idea of taking Will’s virginity is what… no. That’s not it. He has done it many times before, the thrill of taking someone pure and corrupting it in a metaphorical way has always had its appeal. But Will Graham is an entirely different story. He’s already corrupted and he doesn’t know still, he’s pure as well and he doesn’t know it either. He’s a diamond in rough Hannibal wants for his personal use.

The doctor’s hand move to Will’s member from the base to its tip in one gentle stroke before his thumb can knead the head carefully to send a jolt of electricity down the young man’s spine. Hannibal’s hand moves to the young man’s chest and up to his shoulder, keeping a firm grasp there, not enough to leave marks but almost. He’s being gentle and caring, but his patience can be limited sometimes. “Should I make a catalog of everything I’ve found interesting about you in a single night?” he asks as he rolls to trap the young man under his weight. He doesn’t mind if Will’s hand remains between their hardness, he wants him to feel him burning for him, the overture of what will be an exquisite symphony of animal noises. “Besides the obvious, there’s an easily recognizable feature, at least for me, that I find fascinating. But talking about it right now might not suit the current mood and believe me, it’s not my intention to ruin it.” Talking about the way Will gets into the assassin’s mind and to psychoanalyze the young man’s psyche pressuring in certain points that might be triggering is not a very good idea at all.

"May I take a quick tour to your kitchen?" he asks, running his fingers up and down his companion’s chest.

By no one’s standard would Will be considered weak, and yet he feels like a doll in Dr. Lecter’s arms.  Dr. Lecter is certainly larger than him, as far as height and build is concerned, but that’s not it.  Will decides that he’s just letting all of this happen because its easier to consider than the idea that maybe Dr. Lecter is stronger — more masculine — than him.  Something about his primitive instinct to be the alpha male doesn’t quite like that idea, so he doesn’t admit it to himself.  For now, he’ll believe that their strength is, more or less, equal.

Speaking of more or less, Dr. Lecter certainly knew that less is more.  Following the next shift in their bodies, skilled fingers dance along his skin — but it is not what he was expecting.  Dr. Lecter’s touches were more teasing than relieving.  That was the point though — to push him further towards the edge of the cliff rather than to shove him off.  In this way, at least, Dr. Lecter was a minimalist.  Will could appreciate that, and he certainly appreciated the physical sensations he was experiencing.  His teeth may have clenched, and a hiss might’ve slipped out, but he stopped paying attention to himself at this point.  His fingers wrapped around Dr. Lecter’s cock, near the head, and tugged softly — almost in a sort of reflex movement.

The kiss on his forehead gets to him more than anything else, however.  It was… affectionate.  Dr. Lecter was being affectionate and Will didn’t quite understand it, but he knew he enjoyed it — which he admitted to himself only resentfully.  Affection was not something he was accustomed to, and it made him pause for a moment.  Yes, he certainly likes it.

The question that follows throws him off guard.  He blinks a few times to clear the sleepy haze out of his mind.  ”S — sure..?”  He runs his tongue across his lower lip and furrows his eyebrows while he carefully watches Dr. Lecter’s expression.

                                                  it’s a dog-eat-dog world
                                          and i’ve got bigger teeth than you

(Source: relicuums, via cossassin)

1 week ago

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    he could see more with his eyes closed,
    could feel the starlight on his skin
    and taste the companionship
    in the cheap liquor on his tongue.
    he wondered how much of Will’s words
    were casual observation of a general event
    and how much of it was cruel experience
    that had taught Will to be cautious.
    it sounded like something a psychiatrist would say.

          “Do you have a fear of new things, Will?”

    he was not a psychiatrist in the moonlight
    but a friend.
    his curiosity was of a personal nature.
    perhaps more personal than he would
    admit even to himself.
    he wondered if he was a new thing
    to Will Graham.

    his head turned with his lips
    and when he smiled faintly in the moonlight,
    he was looking at Will Graham.
    his hand turned the glass
    and he could feel the liquor shift
    but his eyes did not move from their intended target.

          “I spent my youth more humbly,
          but it is less the cost of the alcohol
                                    than the company
          that I would call ‘experience’.”

    perhaps the cheap liquor had gotten to his head.
    he had spoken in good humour
    but he knew his words had offered Will too much.
    it had not been his intention.
    he should get up and leave
    before the calming mood succeeded in extracting more.
                                he remained exactly where he was.


        ’ I wouldn’t call it fear.
          … More of a disdain. 
          In most cases I see no use for trying something new. ‘

   his curious, tired, eyes traveled about
   and he noted the dramatic shadows cast by the light
   —— the way the light sculpted Dr. Lecter’s features 
   almost like a painting.
   who was the artist?
   certainly not the night.
   Will liked to think of Hannibal as a work of art
   as well as the artist.
   an artist’s self-portrait.

        ’ I see. ‘

   a noise of acknowledgement escaped his throat
   as he thought about this new information for a moment.
   new information about Hannibal’s past.
   it was interesting.

        ’ And you’ve decided that I am pleasurable company to keep? ‘

   he knew the answer was yes.
   Hannibal was his friend.
   his question was a joke of sorts
   and his lips twisted into a smile.

(Source: pureempath)