heyyyy!!! i was wondering if you could write either will or hannibal x reader who bites to sooth themselves? maybe like theyre in bed, and she gets overstimulated and he lets her bite him to calm down. or maybe even something upsets reader, and when hes comforting her the only thing that stops her tears is having something to bite? anyway, im curious to hear your take on this, but no worries if you arent interesed.
btw youre the best will graham writer on here!!!
did this with hannibal because...obvious reasons haha. here you go luv! hope you like it ♡♡
let me put my teeth;
ೃ༄* hannibal lecter x reader ೃ༄*
mind palace;𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
it wasn't that you wanted to hurt anybody or yourself with your habits. it was simply a coping mechanism you had relied on since you were ten, and were never quite able to grow out of it.
the habit began quite harmlessly. you'd bite the dish sponge by the sink till your mother found out and delivered a lecture on hygiene. you shifted to your plushies after that, but you decided the cotton fluffing out into your mouth wasn't any more comfort. you tried out several other things after that— soft things that wouldn't hurt your teeth. you tried chewing gums. but none of those helped much. you started biting the insides of your cheek, tearing off little pieces of flesh with a few bites till you bled. the pain turned unbearable after prolonged repetitive biting. it was bound to.
so, you started biting your palm. the fleshy part of your palm. it was what stuck with you. it didn't hurt much, and neither was it particularly unconventional. you liked the feeling of your canine's sinking into your hypothenar eminence. you liked the slight pain it caused, soothing your frayed heart in moments of overstimulation or distress.
the first time you met hannibal lecter was during your gallery's opening. you had cultivated your passion into the arts. you painted often, and with ample practice, your shading and strokes steady, you had been able to land a place in one of the the most renowned colleges in baltimore, and turn your passion and talents into something that helped you put food on the table, indulge in luxuries, and ultimately, open your own gallery.
but, when you started dating the infamous doctor lecter, the surgeon turned psychiatrist known best for his feasts that consisted of unethical meat paired with wines that had too many diacritics in their names, his extensive range of interests and knowledge, and most importantly, about his elegance, your coping mechanism was a secret you had tried to hide from him.
he'd noticed though. he was a silent observer. he never prodded or poked, but let one reveal themselves to him in their own pace, no matter how slow it be. but, his observative nature wasn't something he could simply turn off.
he'd notice how you slightly biting his delicate wine glasses during shared dinners. or how the forks hitting your teeth while you ate his culinary fusions didn't bother you. or how you some times bit the spoon while simply trying desserts. he wondered if it was the cold sensation of the metal that you liked.
but then, he saw you biting a pillow that was underneath your head, after you'd assumed he'd gone to sleep. it was the third time you had made love after seeing each other, and the first time after making things official.
it was then that he realized that you simply liked biting things. but, he never commented on it. he wanted you to confess your troubles to him, even if he knew what they were.
and you, ashamed and bashed, never knew how to approach the topic of your coping mechanism. but you'd noticed his hands. when he entangled his fingers with you during long walks at the park. or when they prepared meals for you, solely for you to taste and test. or when they held you down during sex. they were soft. calloused. scarred. big. and...spongy.
you liked that. it was the ideal texture to bite to self soothe. it was the same reason you bit your hand during moments of overstimulation and distress.
but, you believed it was for the best that your mechanism remained a secret. it was embarrassing. mostly, you believed so. the other part of you insisted that it was inelegant. however, fate was not going to play by your rules.
you were already having a bad day when hannibal found out. the morning had began with you stubbing your toe on your bed post, burning your toast, tripping over clothes that you had left strewn across the floor the night before. the cafe you went to, like a sacred routine was closed due to road construction. and you did not close out a deal with the client whose ass required a lot of kissing for them to be even interested in your business. by lunch, you were exhausted.
worn out, even. your nerves felt like they were ablaze, on fire, tethered on a fine line between explosion and calm. the former seemed more probable, considering the mental state you were in.
without much thought, your hand travelled into your mouth. your teeth sunk into the thick skin of your palm. the pain distracted you. but it was only for a short moment, as tears pricked behind your eyes before flowing down your face.
that was when the door to your cabin opened, and hannibal walked in, carrying a bag, your hand still in your mouth. but you couldn't stop. tears rolled down your cheeks endlessly, fat and hot, humiliating rather than soothing. hannibal placed the bag on your desk, and knelt down to face you, eye-level.
'i'm assuming is it a self-soothing tactic, rather than hunger that makes you want to engage in biting your own hand.' he mused, his fingers slowly wrapping around your wrist as he pulled your hand from the cavern of your mouth. his thumb wiped the tears from your left cheek, arms coming around you to pull you into an embrace.
'y-yes,' you whispered through soft sobs. his hand soothed down your back. before he could say anything more, your teeth latched onto the flesh of his cheek. it wasn't hard, just sudden. canines sunk into his soft muscle, indentations marking upon his clean shaven skin.
'it's okay. why didn't you ever tell me before? i could've helped you,' he asked, pulling away, before you could bite him any harder.
'it's...it's just embarrassing okay? it's unconventional. it's not elegant—not for being your lover,' you said, wiping your tears, your breathing still erratic.
'nothing inelegant about something that soothes you, my lover.' before you could protest his logic, he offered you his hand. wrapping your lips around his palm, teeth sinking into the thick skin. your assumptions weren't far off. his hands were soft. calloused and scarred, yes, but soft. just the right amount of spongy.
just enough to soothe your frayed, tattered nerves. to come down from a phase of overstimulation that stimmed underneath your skin.
'does that feel good?' he asked, hand still, eyes searching. you nod, your hand wrapping around his wrist as holding him in place. your teeth latched tight into his skin, indentations marking his thick skin. he smiles, ecstatic at calming down his lover.
'come on now, lets have lunch before you chew through my hand befogging it for food,'
i don't focus much on costumes or stuff like that in general, but but i just came to a realization. will wears plaid shirts in most of the episodes in season one. and hannibal wears three piece suits with the same plaid like pattern in season one through two. we don't see much of it in season three or even in some parts in season two.
what i'm trying to say it, they both wear each other's person suits. like hannibal imitates will's person suit, and will imitates hannibal's. in season two through three, will starts wearing more solid coloured shirts, while hannibal starts dressing a little more "casually", and will starts dressing more "formally". when they slowly start revealing parts of themselves to each other, basically.
SOMETHING about being Hannibal Lecter’s girl. Sweet, happy little housewife completely oblivious to the atrocities caused by her husbands hands. Who believes he could never do anything wrong. Who always miss Jack and Will’s gazes of sympathy because they assume she’s just another victim in this game and she is instead absolutely living her best life. Good dick. Good money. Good food. Good wine. Good books. Good clothes. I am HERE for it.
Hiiiii all i am back!! Idk if anyone still remembers me, but i lost access to this account for,,,many years,, and finally got it back 😊 so if youre an active hannibal blog pls reply to this so i can follow!
