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chronicroderick · 3 months

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Old Games

Hannibal has been manipulative because he's bored and provokes Will into taking matters into his own hands.

Shameless Smut, Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham, Consensual Violence, Blood Kink, Knife Kink, Scarification, Canon Typical Toxicity, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Wound Fingering, Post-Fall

Old Games on Ao3

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Will was beating the shit out of him, and God, was Hannibal rock hard. This was no fantasy, though there had been many times when it was. This was real, flesh on flesh, knuckles digging into his cheek bones, causing his teeth to clack with each blow. How strong Will was. How resilient those hands were. That was the only thing going through his mind as he tasted his own blood in his mouth.

Hannibal had been more shrewd than usual lately. Picking at Will, second guessing him, even when it was not necessary. Was he sure that he could pick the freshest vegetables from the grocery store? Did he turn the water off completely after washing his face before bed? Was every one of his little mongrel dogs accounted for or did he leave one outside? Will had never forgotten one of his pets, but there was ‘a first time for everything’. Besides his contrariness, the two men had lived the closest thing to domestic bliss that either one of them had ever experienced, even before the fall.

Here they were, off the coast of some Greek island – Will wanted to settle somewhere that was new to the both of them – in a home built from the ground up. It was adobe, white to match the local buildings, set a great distance from any other living soul on a modest cut of land. They had a fenced in garden, expansive, and they had dogs. They would occasionally take day trips to the large islands and scout for new sources of meat. Will went fishing almost every morning and Hannibal would join him, sitting on the shore, reading a book, every now and then glancing up from his page to gaze at his lover who floated far away on his canoe. They should be happy. He didn’t feel happy. He felt bored.

So here he was, flat on his back, Will sitting on his stomach, while those strong fisherman’s hands smashed his face to a bloody pulp. The flames of pain caressed him, cut through him, searing in the cut on his eyebrow now, down into his skull and his brain. A tightness twisting low in his gut. What had he said? Oh, yes.

“Where else would I go?” Will had piped up while Hannibal was chopping carrots.

“What was that, my love?”

“Don’t ‘my love’, me, Hannibal.”

He was only Hannibal when he had done something wrong.

“You think I’m afraid you wish to be somewhere else. You betrayed the FBI for me, Will. We have killed together. We ran away together. As far as I am concerned we are an inseparable pair and I do not understand why you are so paranoid about these things.”

Will stood from where he leaned against the island in the middle of the room and walked up next to him, one hip against the counter and arms crossed over his chest. Hannibal stilled his hands and looked at Will with a warm smile that he knew would infuriate him.

Will frowned, “If you keep playing the fool I’m going to lose my temper.”

A thrill ran down Hannibal’s spine at the threat. At a degree in which he had not felt in a very long time.

“What part do you wish me to play then?” He tilted his head, smile still on his face, fingers curling ever so slightly tighter around the chef’s knife.

Will narrowed his eyes, purposefully keeping them off of the weapon, those ocean blue rings raging darkly behind his glasses. He was so beautiful when he was angry. So stimulating.

“You’ve been toying lately. Undermining me. Eroding.”

This was dangerous territory. Before Hannibal had started picking at Will’s scabs, they had had many heartfelt conversations, one of which included the brunette expressing his fear that his thoughts and actions were not his own, even after all this time. He had soothed him then. He did not feel like soothing him now.

“You speak of me like some spurned housewife.”

“You don’t deny it.” There was an edge to Will’s voice.

“What reason would I have to do such a thing? We are long past the game of cat and mouse,” He turned away, chopping the rest of the carrot, with a dismissive tone, “really, you’re quite the by product of your post traumatic stress, you should quit—”

“Don’t.” Will interpreted, and Hannibal could almost hear his knuckles creak as he formed a fist.

He smiled to himself, knowing full well how it would be interpreted, “Being so paranoid, my love.”

To say the blow came out of nowhere would be a lie, but he had underestimated the hatred behind it, fueling its power, as it caught him across the side of the face. It gave him a headache immediately, Hannibal instinctually switching his grip on the knife, blade pointed down, but Will knew him well. He could feel the calluses against his forearm as his wrist was smashed into the stone countertop with enough force to send shooting nerve pain up his arm, the knife falling from his hand.

Hannibal growled, half anger at being surprised and half pleasure, his other hand coming up to grab Will by the throat, fingers digging into the sides of his neck and pushing the man backwards until his back slammed against the refrigerator. Will’s left hand still held Hannibal’s arm, but his right arm came up, elbow crashing down on Hannibal’s arm, breaking his grip on the other man’s throat. He was feral, unpredictable and blind to the admiration in Hannibal’s gaze as he threw all of his weight into his shoulder and lunged like a football player, tackling Hannibal to the ground.

His head hit the wood floor with a hard knock, dazing him slightly, but his lover did not let the moment go to waste. He felt the weight of Will on his stomach, knees pinning down his out flung arms as they painfully crushed his elbows. His nose crunched with the second punch that was thrown his way, the third surely would have broken it as well, were it not already broken. Will was saying something, something hard to make out over the sound of the blood rushing in Hannibal’s ears and the ringing of his head injury.

“... paranoid. After all those years of manipulating me. Here I am. Here I am.”

Planting his feet, he attempted to buck Will off him, giving himself a chance to roll over, but the moment his weight shifted, he got a swift blow to the eye socket. It was mean enough to cut his eyebrow open, blood pooling at the corner of his eye like a great well of tears, and sloppy enough that it could have caused serious optic damage. The severity of the situation dawned on him. His cock twitched.

“Will –”

There was no reply, only another blow to the face. They rained down on him now, one after the other. He did not fight, did not even struggle. He took in a ragged breath, smothered with arousal, determined to take in every detail of this moment with all five senses. All of Will’s pain and rage washed over him. He could feel the way his skin tore apart, ragged, under the force of Will’s hands. It was delicious to know that he was the cause of such strong emotions. He could hear Will’s heavy breathing, hitching slightly when he exerted himself. It was him, Hannibal, that had so much influence in Will’s life. No one else. He smiled, his lip split in two places, and it felt like being cut with a razor blade as the skin stretched over his teeth. His brown eyes twinkled up at Will, taking in the sight of his bloody knuckles, unsure if it was just his blood. Hoping it was both of theirs. The idea blew his pupils wide. Will’s features darkened and he grabbed Hannibal by the collar of his shirt, before bashing his head into the floor over and over.

“I gave up everything for you! You don’t get to play games anymore.”

He was disappointed that Will had not positioned himself on his lap, for his cock stood at full attention, the inside of his boxers damp with a spot of precum. How ruthless his lover was. Hannibal wished to grind himself against him, while those well trained hands gripped him by the hair, guiding his lucid head to look up. There was a constant throbbing in the back of his skull, his hair plastered to his head with a thick, wet warmth. The kitchen stank of blood, or maybe it was just everything that was pouring out of his nose. When he saw Will’s hard features searching his face, he was filled with a sense of certainty that this was what their victims saw before death overtook them, and need cut through him. Will’s eyes narrowed, which was no surprise, he could read Hannibal like no other.

“You’re hard right now.” He stated disapprovingly.

“I am.” Hannibal replied, blood staining his teeth pink as he smiled.

“You’re not mad at me,” Will blinked once.

“I am not.”

When Will only silently leaned back, removing the weight of his knees from Hannibal’s elbows, he was afraid their altercation would yield no sexual satisfaction.

“Mylimasis,” He whispered, flecks of his blood spraying across Will’s face as he spoke, “do you not find the spark of our old games as exciting as I do?”

Will scoffed, but the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk, “You goaded me because you miss getting off to our rivalry?”

“I miss when you were not a domestic animal, Will Graham.”

He could not hide the truth of his words, dismay hitting him like a freight train as he saw the way they made Will’s face twist. As he opened his mouth to explain himself, a hand closed over it, smelling strongly of sweat and blood.

“Not a word.” Will said monotonically.

When he was sure Hannibal would not speak, he removed it, and scooted his hips backwards until he sat right on top of Hannibal’s clothed dick. This made him sigh, the pressure bringing relief, but in return Will slapped him hard enough to turn his cheek red. He gave Will a surprised look and the other man only frowned.

“No sounds either.”

They could both feel the way Hannibal’s cock twitched against Will’s ass. He nodded, just barely, maintaining searing eye contact with Will who was cold as ice. Will began moving his hips back and forth, grinding down on Hannibal who bucked his hips up against him eagerly. He needed to feel more, so much more. His nose ached, the pain pulsing out into the rest of his face as his heartbeat quickened. Will’s hard on was evident, the outline of it visible against his pants, Hannibal eyed it hungrily. His tongue dashed out, wetting his lips, playing over the cuts on them, as he watched Will’s body move above his. He looked glorious, all dark curls and severe jawline, his skin coral and cream as he palmed himself over his clothes. His blue eyes caught sight of the ministrations of Hannibal’s tongue and he leaned down, their dicks rubbing together as he licked one of the cut’s on Hannibal’s lips. The sensation made Hannibal’s hole clench, his eyes fluttered shut as Will lapped up the blood from the second cut. He hissed when he felt Will’s teeth sink into his lip, fresh blood flooding his mouth from the open wound, and because he made a noise Will bit harder, creating puncture wounds and ripping it open more. Will ground his cock against Hannibal, relentlessly dry humping as he kissed him. All Hannibal could taste was his own blood, it was electric, swirling around his mouth on the vessel of Will’s tongue. Will’s lips tasted metallic, soft yet unyielding, Hannibal licked at the back of his teeth, rubbing his tongue over the other man’s with a clear desperation. Will pulled back, got off of his lap, then undid his belt.

Hannibal followed suit, shoving his pants down without a word, his cock springing free. Will didn’t look at him, he only tugged his own pants and underwear off over his shoes, and flung them to the side. Hannibal felt like his excitement was visible to the naked eye, the way the scent of his blood flooded his senses, his skull pounding in time with the rushing in his veins, the thick swallow he had to take every couple seconds, it all stoked his desire, the object of which now crouched over him, hovering just above his aching cock. He looked down at himself, saw how stiff his dick was, flushed pink, thick and sure to spread Will open like many times before. He almost whined like a dog when his lover gently lowered himself, his hole squeezing his tip over and over, precum slicking the entrance. Then the sensation was gone, Will was standing over him now, looking down with that cutting gaze.

“Will?” Hannibal protested the lack of contact.

Shaking his head, Will’s hand wandered the counter, in search of something out of Hannibal’s line of sight.

“You want the delight of carnage. I'll oblige.”

The blade of a knife glinted in the sunlight that came through the window as Will inspected it, surely for Hannibal’s benefit. It was lean, one they often used to filet seafood. His cock jerked and he wiggled his loosened front tooth with his tongue.

“It seems you almost knocked my tooth out, my love.” He tried to hide the elation in his voice as he once again spoke out of turn.

Will fell to his knees, straddling Hannibal once again, their bare dicks rubbing together as he worked the tip of the knife into the small crevice of tender flesh between his collarbone and his shoulder. Hannibal closed his eyes, clenching his teeth in a mixture of pain and pleasure. He tried not to think about the hole that was cut in his shirt. Will twisted the knife as if he was lazily trying to start a fire, tearing more fabric and skin. It made his head spin. When he did not respond, Will pushed slightly harder, until a half inch of stainless steel was inside him. He could feel the warmth of his blood welling up around the tip. Felt the warmth of it pooling into his clothes.

“You could cause serious nerve damage if you're unfamiliar with what you're attempting.” Hannibal chimed clinically.

“Enjoying being a brat, are we?” Will purred, gently pulling the blade towards him, cutting Hannibal at such a slow pace it was ripping more than slicing.

The blue eyed man hummed happily as Hannibal bucked his hips, their cocks sliding over one another, his precum wetting his own happy trail. Will moved on, tracing the knife lightly over Hannibal’s chest, poking and prodding every now and then until he settled just below his belly button. Hannibal watched the entire time, never taking his eyes off those brilliant hands as Will gripped the hem of his shirt and cut it in one long go right up the middle, as if he was being gutted. The fabric fell open, revealing his chest and stomach that already had a few red marks, and Will pushed it out of the way, ghosting his fingers through Hannibal’s chest hair. He rubbed his hips teasingly, cock brushing back and forth against Hannibal’s, resting all his weight on the hand in the center of the older man’s chest. Holding him down. Hannibal could feel his heartbeat thumping against Will’s palm. With the knife in the crook of the L of his thumb and forefinger, directly over Hannibal’s heart, Will applied pressure, the sharp bite of which bloomed outwards.

“Put it in.” It wasn't a demand or a question, it was like Will was observing the weather or their horoscopes.

He was more than happy to obey, grabbing hold of himself, resisting the urge to pump his cock, and lined it up with Will’s hole. Not a moment after his tip brushed the man’s ass did his lover sit himself onto it, slowly taking his cock, never taking his eyes off Hannibal’s face nor the knife off his chest. Instead, the more length he took, the deeper he drove the blade into Hannibal’s sternum. It was overwhelming.

“Penetrating me as I penetrate you?” He quipped. This was all part of it. Will knew he could never resist a chance to prove he would be willing to take things further than Will would.

In response Will cut into him. It wasn't hesitant or jerky, it was almost surgical. Deep enough for blood to spill immediately, but shallow enough that Hannibal was not afraid for his life. It hurt, it made him tense involuntarily as the knife made its way down his chest, leaving a burning crimson trail behind. All while his cock was slowly buried to the hilt inside the other man. He groaned, not trying to be a smartass, as Will began moving up and down, but was punished for his transgression anyways when the knife sunk deeper. The scarring would be unavoidable at this point. Hannibal ground his teeth together to keep from speaking, grabbed Will by the hips and helped him ride faster. His dick was being squeezed so tight, pumping in and out of Will’s hole as he watched the brunette’s cock bounce with every thrust. He pounded up into Will, hips snapping against the bottom of his ass. His passion made the work of the knife unsteady, dipping deeper and shallower with no design at all, the line Will was creating winding ever so slightly like a river down to just above his belly button. Hannibal could feel drops of blood cascading down his belly towards his ribs. Will moaned above him, clenching down on his dick, then ran two shaky fingers up the wound he had just inflicted, never slowing down, Hannibal violent in his thrusts that made every curl on Will’s head bob.

Will brought the two fingers up to his pink lips, dark pupils trained on Hannibal’s face as Will sucked on his middle and index finger. He pulled them out clean, except for the faint ring of red that was like lipstick around the second knuckles. Hannibal’s eyes narrowed with lust and he grabbed the hilt of the knife in Will’s hand, at first the other man resisted letting go, but when he slowed down in his thrusts, emphasizing his sincerity, Will relented. Hannibal took the weapon slowly out of his lover’s hand, Will was doing all the work with his hips now, and the salt and pepper haired man turned the blade on himself, tip pressed firmly to his stomach. With a small smile and a slow blink, jittery from the heat engulfing his dick, he stuck the end in his abdomen, somewhere he knew wouldn't be vital if he had gone deep enough for that to even matter. It made him gasp and he was so close to the edge now, but he wasn't finished. Hannibal dropped the knife, grabbed Will's hand firmly, splayed out his fingers, then pushed one of them greedily inside the wound. It made him shudder, meeting the pace of Will’s hips now, feeling the tip of his finger inside the cut sent stripes of ecstasy straight to his dick. Pumping himself in and out of Will, while Will pushed his finger deeper into his skin, Hannibal stroked the man’s cock, admiring the slight bend in it and the feeling of precum slicking the inside of his hand. Both of them were covered in a sheen of sweat and blood on the kitchen floor. He felt like an animal. He felt alive.

“This is what you wanted?” Will asked, words punctuated by small gasps.

Hannibal nodded, racing to the end, all fervor and fire. Slamming up into his Will. His Will. He would bleed only for this man. He would hold all of his beloved 's rage. He was made to bear any pain his lover put his way. Hannibal’s thoughts were becoming less linear. Will was panting, surely his legs burned, his dick twitching in Hannibal’s uncoordinated grasp, until finally he came. Seed shot onto Hannibal’s chest, mingling with his blood. The feeling made Hannibal climax too, unloading inside Will with a stifled moan. He couldn't take it. He sat up without thinking, grabbed Will behind the shoulders and sank his teeth into the crook of his neck. Will cried out, but didn't push him away. He bit deeper, Will’s hole milking his cock of every last drop of cum, his wounds throbbing and burning and flooding his body, his lover’s cum making a warm, slow trail down his stomach into the deep cuts. He might need stitches. Biting deeper. Will would be bruised. They'd have to set his nose. He did not break the brunette's delicate skin.

They sat like that on the floor, Hannibal’s teeth in his neck, Will’s trembling thighs straddling his waist. Hannibal pulled back, still ensnaring Will in his grasp and looked into his eyes. They seemed bright, normal, better than the storm he had cultivated for the last few weeks. He kissed his nose and brought him into a hug. Will sighed and rested his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. Their breathing slowed. Their heartbeats turned to normal, almost in sync. It would be enough. It already was.

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I am so incredibly upset because I couldn't find the gif of fantasy Hannibal smiling on the ground as Will beats him :'(

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ssaseaprince · 9 months

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Hannibal would truly love to die by Will's hand. He'd see it as a spiritual experience enacted by some kind of vengeful God of old. He'd cherish every ounce of pain like a form of worship. Being hurt, being killed by Will's hand, would be divine ecstacy. It would be like when God appeared to those in the Bible and his presence burned their eyes. He would compare it to the pain of those who died in the flood, murdered by God in his righteous anger. Divine intervention. It would be sacrificial, except instead of slitting the throats of livestock, he would be offering up his heart to a hungry, starving deity. He would give up the things he cherishes most, his life and his freedom, to fuel Will Grahams glorious, painful, all-consuming radiance. And it would be beautiful.

#sorry this is so dark but i love it #i love the thought of hannibal and will getting old and grey and falling apart from age #and them deciding to take their lives and hannibal wanting will to do it for him #and him on his knees savouring the experience because he can only die once and to do by wills hand would be like a fucked up dream come tru #like i said the image of him on his knees begging will to kill him while will stands above him and watches him like god watching humanity #aaaaahhhhhhhh #hannibal #nbc hannibal #will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannigram #hannibal and will #mads mikkelsen #hugh dancy #hannibal headcanons #dark will graham

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verysickofthisshit · 10 months

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love how will graham gives representation to empathetic people who are not sympathetic. u get me king

#like bedelia said but i don’t remember it exactly #cruelty requires empathy #it’s part of what makes will so fucking scary sometimes #he knows exactly what ur feeling #and he does not care unless he wants to #empathy is unconscious #sympathy isnt #at least not for me #or will graham 😭#will graham #nbc hannibal #will rhymes with kill!!#dark will graham #just canon will graham tbh but

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bodysnatcherrrr · 6 months

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'A grown man now, and he had still never succeeded in throwing away a single sliver of so-called ‘wisdom’ that had been relentlessly drilled into his mind up until he managed to move himself out of the home and out from under his Daddy’s thumb. Every word still stuck rattling around in his skull.'

#hannibal #hannigram #will graham #nbc hannibal #hannibal fic #hannibal lecter #young will Graham #cryptid fiction #Louisiana will graham #will grahams dad #bayou will graham #dark will graham #hannibal au

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lara-a113 · 1 year

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Honestly, can we talk about THIS?????

What the actual fuck was Will thinking????

Ruining a girl life moto, decorating a crime scene just like Hannibal??? What was going on with my man????

Why would he put the body like that????

#hannibal #will graham #season 3 episode 3 #hannigram #dark will graham #i don’t understand #pls help

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the-dread-hand · 1 year

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The Oracle Murders, A Dread Hand Above Me

The Fairy Tale so far, in order.

A Hannibal SMAU, season 1:

They have an exit plan & each other

That's all they need...

But this is gonna be a rough ride

Apéritif

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Amuse-bouche

Day 4

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honeyscentedivy · 1 year

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i think a reason i love hannibal nbc so much is because i always wonder “what if the protagonist was evil?” and they gave it to us in the complexity of will grahams character, showing him struggle against his urges as he wants to be a good person because that is what society expects him to be

#hannibal #hannibal nbc #will graham #dark will #dark will graham #i love villains #i love morally grey characters #hannibal was onto something #thank you hannibal

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abominable-space-they · 1 year

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My favorite part of Hannibal calling will a Mongoose right in the very beginning is that a mongoose isn't a pet trained to protect ppl from snakes.

The show has reoccurring themes around the difference between a wild predator like wolves that chooses their own meals, and the domesticated hunter like a dog, who's told when, where, and how to hunt. The hound that knows how to find and track the prey, does all the work of the hunt, then has their meal taken from them to be fed kibble and scraps instead.

Hannibal finds the latter an insult to the hunter who's skills the people need to feed themselves.

But a mongoose isn't a hound, a barn cat, or even a trained hawk. They're wild animals that eat snakes of their own volition, because they want to, because they need to, because that's their natural diet. If you live in venomous snake territory and happen to share living space w/ a mongoose, you're lucky enough to be benefiting from their natural appetites

Hannibal lives in metaphorical venomous snake territory and considers himself lucky...

Because Will is the mongoose that eats all the snakes that try to slither into their backyard

#will graham is not the FBi's poor little kitty meow meow #will graham is Hannibal's mongoose #unassuming and small enough to fit through the cracks #hide in plain sight #until another snake slithers into his territory and tries to swallow what's his #spoilers: it's Hannibal #dark will graham #canon dark will #hannigram #will graham #hannibal x will #hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal fandom #murder husbands #my mastermind will graham agenda analysis

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pesky--dust · 11 months

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Hannibal, Buffet froid

Hannibal, …and the Woman Clothed with the Sun

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal nbc #will graham #hannigram #hannibal gifs #hannibal buffet froid #buffet froid #hannibal s01e10 #Hannibal #hannibal ... and the woman clothed with the sun #... and the woman clothed with the sun #hannibal s03e09 #dark will graham #hannibal parallels #mirror #hannibal lecter

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theredofoctober · 10 months

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MANNA PART 3

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham fic, TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse etc.

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It's October when you wake in the night to realise that Hannibal was telling the truth: Will Graham watches you while you sleep, standing, back-lit, in the doorway as thunder runs like gravel over the house.

You lie, tangled in sheets, your hair static from fear, and the storm. That evening, Will had force-fed you by hand, Hannibal holding your arms firmly at your sides, as cool as a sentinel as he'd observed his friend's aggressions. You had swallowed, and swallowed, and half-choked, yet you had finished your plate, and kept it down, sweating with the effort of it.

Will had looked at you with unfamiliar eyes, softer than you had yet known them, a kindly stranger's.

"Good girl," he'd said, and the shock as he'd caressed your cheek with his hot hand had sent your stomach into carnival turns.

After therapy sessions he rarely lingers, returning home, or to work on whatever case has currently arrested him, sometimes accompanied by Doctor Lecter, leaving you alone, dosed, and chained to his bedpost like a dog; past misbehaviour has led to this measure, the demotion from precious girl to uncouth animal.

If Will does stay, then he sits with Hannibal and talks, drinking wine, each of them so intent on the other that you comprehend they are, on some level, in love.

They scarcely notice you on nights like that, keeping you in sight, expected to read a book, or use your sketchpad and pencils. How often they ignore you as you sulk, and lie on your back watching rain beat against the windows.

If you cry, or attempt to move in any way that might be considered exercise they break from their quiet corner to correct you, as they call it; quickly you learn that it is not in your power to keep to your old rules before them.

On other nights they make love to you together, sometimes with a sickening tenderness, other times with a violence that suggests you are a panting vixen in the teeth of two savage hounds. You have not yet seen them touch one another sensually, but from the fire in the air you judge that it is only a matter of time before they do.

Tonight, however.

Tonight you had been sent to bed early, for your own sake, it was suggested, medicine for the girl overwrought. You had been glad of the time alone to return to your old obsessive patterns in private, taking a vicious joy from the control of it. Sleep evaded you for a very long time as you lay, thrumming with glee, and guilt, and more life than you have felt in a very long time.

Then, as the wind broke its fists against the window panes, you had slept, forgetting, for a moment, that you were not home.

Now Will Graham looms by the doorframe like a malevolent wisp, and your first thought, as you go rigid, is that he knows you have misbehaved, and has come to put you across his knee for your efforts.

"You're still here?" you ask, softly, and Will starts; he hadn't known that you were awake. "Are you... staying the night?"

"No," says Will, after a strange pause. "I can't. I'm teaching tomorrow. Can't skip it."

He looks damp and pasty in the dim light, a grub dug up from the earth. You sit up in bed, oddly moved and rather alarmed by his sudden illness.

"You're sick," you say, quietly.

Will shakes his head slowly. Coils of dark hair cling damply to his brow.

"No," he says, then adds, "I don't know. I just remembered something. A dream."

The words send such a chill through you that you draw flat against the wall, away from him.

"What was the dream?" you ask, although you don't want to know.

Glancing down, away from you, avoidant as always, Will reads some shape in the darkness.

Then he says, "I don't know if I should tell you."

Against you better judgement, you enquire, "Why not?"

"Feel like it'd be speaking it into being, somehow."

You wrap icy arms around your knees.

"I thought you didn't believe in that stuff."

Will swallows audibly, clenches a hand on the side of the door.

"I... don't. But this dream is different."

You feel how badly he craves to come to you, to hold you, and to be held, both of you vulnerable and pathetic. You know how much he itches to run away, to hide in his house, a fortress of solitude. Still he remains in the doorway, the threshold between two needs.

"Wait," you say, suddenly. "I don't have to know."

But Will is wetting his lips, swaying like a drunk, though he has likely only downed a glass or two in the room below.

"In this dream," he says, "you escape from here. You run away. It's mid autumn; the trees are dripping with so many orange leaves around you it's like I'm chasing you through a field of fire. Yes, I'm chasing you. It's like my blood's up at the sight of you pounding the earth ahead of me. Like you've triggered some instinctual urge in me to hunt."

Will closes his eyes in recollection, and you see them flicker below the lids as though he is slumbering, still.

"It's raining," he says. "Just like tonight, it's raining, and your dress is wet against you, and you're dirty, and your hair is full of leaves. You're like something born in the forest, yet I'm angry because I know, even in the dream, that you belong with me, and with Hannibal."

"Don't," you mumble, but Will doesn't seem to hear you, returning to the red place of sleep.

You smell the copper scent of his sweat, and the smoke of his cologne; you are revolted by him in every way, and yet there is an attraction, too, and an affinity that is only just beginning to unfold.

"I catch you from behind," he murmurs. "My arms around your waist, pulling you down into the leaves with me. You're screaming, begging me to let me go, but you don't use my name. You call me 'Daddy', and that's a mistake, because it reminds me exactly how mad I am that you dared run away from me. The thrill of chasing you, of all that rage.

"I hit you. I kiss you. I stuff your mouth with dirty leaves like a scarecrow, and tear your stupid little dress off your body, and I thrust inside you as the rain falls against us, and it is—"

Halting, Will mops his face with an erratic hand.

"But that's not all," he confesses, the broken sentence lost. "I enter you in two ways, because in my hand I have a knife."

You moan aloud in horror, and Will stares at you as though he's forgotten that you're in the room.

"I stab you as I move inside you, and in that moment I can't decide which sensation is more pleasurable. There's warmth both ways, the feeling of taking what I want, of having complete power over you, your fate, and it's overwhelming. I woke up sick to my stomach, but I wasn't as horrified by that dream as I should have been."

Stiff, frail as an invalid child, you wrap yourself into your sheets as though they might protect you from him.

"You want to get rid of me," you rasp. "I was right: you want to kill me."

"No!"

This, spoken with an urgency that startles you.

"No," Will repeats, in a softer voice. "I don't. But if you ever try to run I can't say for sure that it wouldn't end like that dream. It was potent, and it felt... real."

Thunder roars like the pain of a goliath beyond your bedroom window, and you reach up to draw the curtains shut.

"I'll never run away," you say, in a pinched voice. "Hannibal's too smart to let me do it."

At this Will looks at you with eyes of such blue darkness that it's like gazing into the endless graves of the sea.

"He might let you try, some day," he says. "Just to see what you and I will do."

#dark fic #ao3 writer #manna fic #darkfic #dark!fic #hannibal lecter x will graham #hannibal lecter x reader #dark hannibal lecter #dark will graham #will graham x reader #tw noncon #tw death #tw murder #knifeplay #tw eating disorders #hannibal #hannibal lecter

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becomingvecna · 6 months

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words by me

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ssaseaprince · 1 year

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So I've definitely fallen into this, so this isn't meant to shame people. But I see a lot of people who hate Jack, and talk about him being the real villian of the show, or talk about how horrible he was to Will and how he lead to Will's "downfall". But everytime I rewatch the show, I'm reminded of the fact that while Jack was manipulative, Will was very aware of that fact. And Jack's way of being manipulative was trying guilt trip Will into staying at the BAU and continue working for him. Jack's form of guilt tripping was telling Will how guilty he'd feel if people died and he could've prevented it. He offers to let Will quit, but he tells him how if he goes back to his classroom, it'll be all be sour because Will would be looking at images of dead people he could have saved. In s3 when he comes to Will when he's living with Molly and Walter, he uses more dead families as a way to guilt trip Will into coming back, playing on the fact that Will now had a family of his own. But I don't believe that's why Will went back at all. I don't think he cared about any of those families, he may have felt a little sad, but definitely didn't care enough to come back for them. He could've moved on with his life and would not have dwelled on the fact that he could saves their lives. He came back because the temptation to see Hannibal was so strong he couldn't help himself. It was all about Hannibal, I think even if Jack hadn't shown up, Hannibal's letter would've eventually prompted him to return anyways. So again, while Jack is being manipulative, it doesn't really matter and it has no effect on Will. Will makes his choices not based on Jack, not based on his family, not based on saving lives. He makes his choices solely based on himself and later Hannibal. Jack does not have the sway he appears to. Just because Will follows Jack's lead and instructions, doesn't mean he's doing it because he's fallen to Jack's manipulation. What Jack wants just happens to play to what Will wants.

But Will was not, and did not continue working for the BAU because he felt guilty about people dying, or because he felt like it was his duty to save people. I firmly believe that Will could've quit, and he would not have felt guilty knowing he could've saved people. That was not his motivation. His motivation was manipulative in and of itself. He wanted to play hero, he wanted to prove to himself that he wasn't bad or morally corrupt. His logic was along the lines of, "well if I keep saving lives then the fact that I want to take them doesn't matter. I can't be morally corrupt if I'm saving people." I think he felt some guilt around his dark nature, but it was never actually about saving people for the sake of saving people, and that's what Jack thought was happening. So Jack's manipulation was useless, he was pushing Will using reasoning that Will didn't even care about. Will's reasons for working for him and staying were entirely selfish.

Jack was an overworked government employee, and had tons of his own issues going on. Who can say that their boss at work never tried to manipulate them into working more? And then Jack was reassured by the fact that he made sure Will was seeing a very highly esteemed psychiatrist, who reassured him time and time again that Will was fine. And as much as Will said he wasn't fine, he'd turn around and say he was right after. Jack genuinely wanted to save people and he thought Will did too, his actions to achieve that weren't the best, but they were far from being bad enough to make him a villian.

I also feel like this idea comes from people babying Will, and forgetting that while he was a victim, he was a grown man who, while in denial, was fully aware of a lot more then he let on. He was incredibly manipulative, selfish, smart and rude. He did not stay in the BAU and jeopardize his mental health because of Jack, he did it for selfish reasons that had nothing to do with his boss. And that's not even beginning to talk about how racism definitely plays a part in how Jack is made out to be the villian even though Hannibal is literally a billion times worse. Not saying anyone has to like Jack, but it's important to deconstruct why you don't like him.

Anyways rant over, sorry.

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal and will #hannibal headcanons #jack crawford #hannibal analysis #dark will graham #will graham hannibal

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