The Cocoon Of The Bagworm Moth Is Always Different, Depending On The Materials That The Caterpillar Forged

[text]: Oh my God.

[text]: That was six.

[text]: What did you do?  Drink half your stores of fifty year old wines by yourself?

// i s2g this website is shit for sending asks and if i've just sent this to you multiple times i am so sorry // [runsonfear]: ⁇

“⁇” for a drunk text.

[text] Willl

[text] Wil

[text] Wiilll

[text] Willlllll

[text] It is impo ssible to count how many ls are in your name if i accidentally use more than 2

[text] Willllll

[text] How many wasa that?

[text] we don’t know.

[text]: I counted it, like a normal, sober human.

[text]: "Maybe" ??

[text]: Haha, no.

// i s2g this website is shit for sending asks and if i've just sent this to you multiple times i am so sorry // [runsonfear]: ⁇

“⁇” for a drunk text.

[text] Willl

[text] Wil

[text] Wiilll

[text] Willlllll

[text] It is impo ssible to count how many ls are in your name if i accidentally use more than 2

[text] Willllll

[text] How many wasa that?

[text] we don’t know.

“I wonder what Freud would think of that.”  Will thought Freud would probably assume impotence.  He considered saying so, but bit his cheek instead.  “I used to dream of...well, everything.  No meaning, no recognizable scenario.  Just an endless blur.”

“Now I just dream of work.”

// remember that time i made a will blog for the express purpose of rp-ing with your hannibal and then i completely forgot about it? haha yeah... // [runsonfear]: "Dream analysis is a load of bull and you know that."

“Not entirely. It was Freud who really developed and popularized dream analysis, and while he was wrong about…most everything, we can still use some of what he preached. Analyzing dreams can help to uncover what may be lying at the root of your problems.

Tell me about your dreams, Will.”

Independent Will Graham RP blog, interpretation of both television and book characterizations.

I won't pretend to know exactly what I'm doing.

But I kind of know what I'm doing.

Ye.

drhanniballecter this is your fault

i wish i had enough followers to say “lesbian will graham” and 100 people reblog with “real”

Will watches the flex and roll of Hannibal’s muscles for a few moments; the suggestion beneath his shirt, the tightening sinews of his arms.  He removes his own jacket, folding it over one of the kitchen stools.  Instead of rolling up his sleeves, he undoes the buttons of his shirt and discards it the same way; he stretches his arms, now feeling a little freer in just his undershirt.

“You think this’ll be enough, then?”  He stirs the chocolate with a wooden spoon, turning it over to keep the temperature even.  It occurs to him that, at a previous time and place in their lives, Will might have had an issue with Hannibal having an entire bowl of chocolate ready for this.  It also occurs to him that he is no longer the Will that would have that issue.

He dips his finger into the chocolate, about up to the second joint, covering it in thick syrup.  He walks over and brings the chocolate up to Hannibal’s lips.  “Tell me how it is.”

// if u wanna // [runsonfear]: "I assume this is a food."

“You’re not hesitating are you? I assure you, it’s delicious.”

Will nodded, eyes pinned where Hannibal had them.  “Thank you.”

"I'm sorry."

“Are you, now?”  Maybe another glass in he’d have been more ready; but they were doing this now.  He downed what he had in his glass.

Will hummed as Hannibal bit and sucked, eyes fluttering shut to feel those teeth and that tongue more acutely.  He rolled his hips a little, just to tease the shape of his growing erection against Hannibal’s.  A small hiss when Hannibal nibbled his ear; he grinned:

“Good man.”  He stripped his shirt off and cast it to the side.  One arm snaked around Hannibal’s middle to press him closer ad he reached for the bowl of chocolate with the other.  The feeling of skin on skin, muscles twitching against muscles, Hannibal’s hair against his own hairless chest, saturated his senses and he let his drawl run deep when he spoke:

“Now, close your eyes—,” a wink, “please.”

With two fingers dipped into the chocolate, he started drizzling the sauce on select areas of Hannibal’s neck, his collarbone, his shoulders and such, moving downward along the body.  He lapped and slurped and bit the chocolate off as he went, making obscene noises and leaving little toothy indents like breadcrumbs.  Occasionally, he’d let his fingernails scrape down some patch of skin to see the flesh pink in neat lines.

As he got ever lower, closer to Hannibal’s belt he paused to look up at Hannibal, his eyes clear and bright.  “I’m going to remove your belt, but I’d like to use it on you.  Is that alright?”

// if u wanna // [runsonfear]: "I assume this is a food."

“You’re not hesitating are you? I assure you, it’s delicious.”

Reblog this if you slept with my ex-wife Susan.

Trying to prove a point to my divorce lawyer.