#Chilton x Reader

[mrsfrederickchilton]

FREDERICK. Chapter 65

Of course you felt shame and guilt. You had come to terms with that.

The bad thing was that you felt something else, something you couldn't decipher, no matter how hard you tried.

Something that complicated everything.

You touched the scar on your wrist, which Doctor Chilton had kissed so tenderly at night (there and everywhere else), and buried your face in your hands.

“Tea's ready,” came from the kitchen, and you sighed.

He remembered everything.

You put on trousers and a turtleneck, pulled your hair back, and brushed your teeth. You transferred almost all the remaining money to orderly Higgins, and there was quite a lot of time left before the next installment from the tenants. You would have to sell something else. You certainly weren't going to be Doctor Chilton's sponger twenty-four seven.

You came into the kitchen, feeling that everything was completely different from the morning after Christmas. At the very least, Doctor Chilton already knew what he did not know then, and probably did not expect what he expected then.

“I'll have to go to the store after all. In the meantime, there's this.”

You saw packages from the delivery service on the table — yogurts, pancakes, crepes, condensed milk and jam for them. Apparently, the courier called by Doctor Chilton arrived and left, and you simply dropped out of life.

“I slept through it all,” you said. “I didn't even hear anything.”

After that nightmare, you really did fall into a deep sleep, switching off from the outside world. Into a peaceful sleep.

“I know,” Doctor Chilton nodded.

If it were up to him, he wouldn't get out of bed at all with you, sleeping soundly in his arms. So fragile and so tired from everything you had to endure.

He warmed up your breakfast in the microwave, you laid it out on plates.

“Would You like condensed milk or jam?” you asked.

“Ah...” he was confused, and you understood why, and thought that you shouldn't have asked.

“Personally, I want condensed milk to death.”

He pushed the container with condensed milk towards you, poured tea into cups.

“Good tea,” you praised, taking a sip. “And a sweater,” you couldn't resist.

Doctor Chilton was wearing a dark green sweater that perfectly set off his bottomless eyes. You found yourself thinking that you could stare into them for a very long time. And lowered your gaze.

“Thank you,” he replied. “What kind of yogurt would you like?”

There you go.

“And what kind would You?”

He shook his head sadly.

“Okay, I'll have strawberry,” you replied.

“Can we...” he hesitated.

“What?”

“Can we switch to informal ‘you’?” he looked at you. “This is kind of... ridiculous.”

“What exactly?”

“This!”

“Sleeping with your patient and addressing her as ‘You’?” Oh, yes, I forgot, nothing like that is officially happening.”

“You... No, you are unbearable.”

“I know.”

He just sighed. Silence fell between you.

You remembered how he comforted you after a nightmare. And what you were doing before that. Okay. Okay, okay, okay... You felt like a fool yourself.

“Frederick,” you said sternly, and he shuddered. “Pass me the yogurt.”

The yogurt was right in front of you.

* * *

He had to go to the hospital, but only for a few hours. Frederick asked if you wanted to stay and play the piano in peace.

Would you like to wait for him at his place?

“I'll be back at lunch,” he said. “More precisely, with lunch.”

Play, you suddenly remembered. What was that? The memory was unpleasant for some reason. But the voice... The voice was familiar.

“Okay?” Frederick asked.

You nodded. You could rummage around his apartment some more, maybe you'd find something useful?

But, alas, he left the office locked.

Well, then you'll really get down to music.

He arrived even earlier than he promised, with a bunch of food and, for some reason, in a great mood.

“Hi,” he said, and it was immediately clear why.

A small linguistic step — and a huge psychological one.

You cooked dinner together — unlike your love, Doctor Chilton knew nothing about cooking, but still managed to almost not spoil anything. You praised him, secretly rinsing the rice he had oversalted. A man who killed people never added a single extra crystal of salt to food. If you were to make a list of the differences between Doctor Chilton Frederick and your criminal, this would definitely be on one of the notes.

But the list would be endless.

“How is Doctor Irving?” you asked while you were eating. “Sobered up?”

“I’m afraid that won’t happen anytime soon.”

“Very well.”

Truth.

Frederick snorted contentedly.

“I hope his wife divorces him,” you added. “Otherwise, she’s just crazy to be with such a terrible person.”

He smiled, but the smile quickly faded and he looked down at his plate.

You wanted to tease him, but then you realized your words differently. Oh, well, of course.

Who would talk, right?

After lunch, Frederick went into his office, took a folder out of his briefcase and opened it.

“Remembering yesterday’s reports…” he glanced at you and you came closer. “Can you read something?” he asked, holding several sheets of paper in his hands.

He looked a little embarrassed.

“Of course,” you answered, taking the printouts.

After skimming a few lines, you looked at him:

“Did you write the article?”

Frederick nodded.

“Recently. I haven't written anything for many years, really. I don't know what suddenly came over me.”

“That's good,” you smiled.

“Maybe. Will you tell me your opinion?”

He looked at you so intently that you even got a little nervous. It was obvious that this was important to him. What would be the right thing to do, what would be the best thing to say?

“But I don't understand this at all,” you answered honestly. “I already told you yesterday. You can post it on some special forum, even anonymously, if you want. Get reviews.”

“And then find it published somewhere under someone else's name? No, I don't trust anyone,” he said. Then he added: “Only you.”

Your heart sank at these words. Of course, you, unlike the forum visitors, would definitely not steal his article and pass it off as your own. But there was much more to his words than just concern for the article.

I trust only you.

“Okay,” you forced yourself to smile again.

“Just be honest,” he warned, just at the moment when you decided you were going to praise it anyway.

He’s right.

Trust and honesty. That’s what we need.

Isn't that right?

You nodded and delved into reading. You were afraid that you wouldn't understand anything at all and that the article would be boring, but you were pleasantly mistaken. The style, the presentation, the manner of narration were really excellent, as if a real writer was standing in front of you. It was easy to read, as if it wasn't a scientific article at all. It was interesting to read. You wanted to read. Just think, you didn't know that Frederick had such a talent. Why hadn't he written all these years?

He was scrolling through the news feed on his phone with exaggerated interest, waiting for you to read. You looked at him, pressing the sheets of paper to your chest, and he felt your gaze.

“The article is very good,” you said seriously.

“Really?” he glanced at you incredulously.

“Yes. Really.”

An embarrassed smile appeared on his face, making him absolutely charming.

Well, objectively.

“And I would like to read something else,” you added.

“Oh, that’s possible,” Frederick was delighted and, rummaging through the folder with papers, pulled out some sheets of paper fastened with a stapler. “Here’s another one, on the same topic. But it’s older.”

“Good,” you agreed.

This one was harder to read. It was boring, incredibly dry, full of bureaucratic jargon and filled, as it seemed to you, with not very deep respect for the reader. The author of the text clearly considered himself a significant specialist in this topic and did not deny himself the pleasure of informing the whole world about it.

“This one is bad,” you stated bluntly.

“Really?” Frederick asked again, now almost joyfully.

“Definitely. And I don’t think it’s yours,” you added, looking at him.

“True,” he grinned. “Doctor Irving’s.”

All clear.

“You are incorrigible.”

“This is so that you don’t suffer from guilt,” he answered.

You glanced at Frederick's recent article again. Compared to Dr. Irving, he was a master of the pen, even you could tell.

“Have you written more articles?” you asked.

“Yes... I suppose so.” He held out his hand for the papers, but you didn't give it back.

“And where are they? Published somewhere? I didn't find much on the Internet. Well, I mean, nothing like that.”

“In the desk,” Frederick answered. “Where I've been writing them for years, until I got tired of it.”

“But why?”

He literally snatched the sheets out of your hands. You saw that he was upset, although he had just been happy.

“Frederick?”

“Because I was advised to study science, not graphomania, and in the end I agreed with that.”

However, I didn't succeed in science either.

“Who advised you to do that?”

“Lots of people,” Frederick responded.

“If people like Dr. Irving told you this, you understand that they were just jealous, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

Everything in his tone indicated that he didn’t think so. He put the papers back in the folder and closed it, as well as the whole topic.

But you’re not done yet.

“Let me read another article of yours,” you folded your arms across your chest, looking at him almost with disapproval. “Just yours, not someone else’s.”

“This is nonsense,” Frederick said, furiously shoving the folder back into his briefcase.

“Right now,” you said. “Immediately.”

He looked at you in surprise, saw that you were completely serious.

“Okay…”

Frederick opened another article on his phone and gave it to you to read.

Which was to be proved, you thought a few minutes later.

“Write,” you said firmly. “Your articles—”

“You've only seen two,” Frederick interrupted you, but you didn't pay any attention to it.

“Your articles deserve to be read. You deserve it.”

“You just don't understand.”

“Of course I do,” you chuckled.

Just like yesterday.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and you barely resisted the urge to hug him.

Don't do too much.

Frederick took the diary from the table, tore out a sheet of paper and pulled a pen out of the drawer.

“What are you doing?”

“You told me to write,” he smiled.

You sighed. You already understood what was happening.

4. Kindness

“Kindness has nothing to do with it,” you countered. “It’s just a fact. You really write great.”

“You could have just said it was a good article,” he shook his head. “You didn’t have to add anything else. Or read the others.”

Truth.

“And that chess game,” Frederick added.

“Chess?”

“The one you play with the orderly.”

Your heart sank. Does he know?

What else does he know?

“He tried to persuade everyone in our hospital, but no one would agree to play with him. Kindness — I can’t think of any other reason why you would agree to do that.”

Oh, Frederick...

“I didn't think you knew,” you said.

“This is my hospital. I know everything that goes on in it.”

Except the most important things.

“I have very little kindness in me, Frederick.”

Truth.

“I think it's enough to make this list.”

The list of my normality.

“Which I hope will end soon,” you joked.

“Never. Come here,” he pulled you close and hugged you.

“Never? That would mean I'm completely normal,” you hugged him back. “And I'm not.”

Truth?

Next chapter (Chapter 66)

Masterlist

[cece693]

Devotion in the Ashes

pairing: hannibal lecter x gender neutral reader tags: reader knew hannibal when they were kids, mentions of extreme devotion and love, human hannibal, no specific time line, child-adulthood

You first met Hannibal Lecter on a summer afternoon in 1939, when the world outside the Lecter estate still felt safe. Your families were neighbors—your father had been a friend of Count Lecter, and your mothers often hosted tea in the estate’s sunroom. You were hardly more than a child, but so were Hannibal and his little sister, Mischa. Back then, Hannibal had been a quiet boy with gentle eyes and a clever mind that never stopped whirring behind his stillness. Mischa was the opposite—loud giggles, constant questions, and a warmth that always drew you in.

But war doesn’t spare childhood innocence for long. Lithuania became a battleground, and your carefree days grew scarce. Meals shrank to rationed scraps. The hush of nighttime was shattered by planes overhead, rumors of soldiers roaming the forests. You, Hannibal, and Mischa sought refuge in the corners of the Lecter property, whispering stories to distract yourselves from the thunder of artillery not too far away.

Snow covered the Lithuanian countryside in a harsh white sheet the winter that changed everything. The Lecters’ castle was overrun by desperate, violent men—soldiers or scavengers, it hardly mattered. In those terrifying nights, you recall Hannibal shielding Mischa behind him, urging her to be quiet, his heart pounding against your shoulder as the three of you huddled together in the darkest part of the cellar.

When Mischa was taken, a piece of Hannibal died. You were there, but powerless. The soldiers overpowered you, shoved you aside, and locked you away. You lived, but you’d never forget the gnawing guilt of surviving while Mischa did not. When Hannibal emerged from that carnage, silent and seething, his small body trembling, you tried to hold him. He let you, though you realized later that in those seconds, he had receded into himself, spirit fractured by horror.

In time, you managed to slip away from the carnage. Your family left. He disappeared. Letters undelivered, calls unanswered. You carried the memory of Hannibal Lecter as something half-lost and half-stolen, sure that you would never see him again.

Your parents traveled west, seeking safety. Eventually, with the war’s end in sight, you found a semblance of normalcy, though a heavy grief remained. You couldn’t help but think of Hannibal in quiet moments—his last expression, the heartbreak etched into his features, and how tightly his cold hand had clutched yours in the last moments before you were separated.

But fate is not so easily denied. After years of searching, you discovered that he had been relocated to France, eventually living under the care of a relative. You learned he was studying medicine. The day you knocked on his door in Paris, your heart rattled in your chest, uncertain if he’d welcome you or remain a ghost from a painful past.

He opened the door, and for a long moment, you both simply stared. He was older—taller, leaner, the angles of his face refined into a striking elegance. But in his dark eyes, you saw the same swirling intensity, the same quiet gravity that had once made you feel safe and uneasy all at once.

“Hannibal,” you breathed. His gaze flickered over you—shock, relief, a glimmer of something else you couldn’t yet name. He stepped aside to let you in, and when the door clicked shut behind you, the years between you collapsed.

In the weeks and months that followed, it became clear Hannibal had changed. Shadows lingered in him, always on the edge of his features. His politeness was unwavering, his intellect sharper than ever. But behind the measured courtesy was a sea of obsessions and unspoken longing. You were relieved he trusted you—he wanted your company, perhaps more than he wanted anyone else’s. But you also sensed that he guarded something deep, a coiled darkness born from the tragedy that stole Mischa away.

He hardly spoke of his sister; you knew better than to press. But when nightmares surfaced—ragged breathing in the middle of the night—you were the only one he allowed near. You, the one from his childhood, the only one who knew him before and after.

Still, it was not merely comfort in your presence that Hannibal sought. There was a fervor, a devotion in the way he watched you. If you left his side, even for a moment, you felt his gaze follow you across the room. When you returned, he would exhale, tension evaporating. Like a priest at a forbidden altar, he worshipped you with quiet but fierce concentration. You were his anchor, the only living vestige of innocence and warmth he had left.

On Hannibal’s eighteenth birthday, you found him in an empty lecture hall—classes over, the last echoes of chatter dying out in the corridor. He sat at one of the rows near the front, eyes drifting to a window where sunlight slanted in, dust motes swirling in gold.

You set a small package on the desk in front of him: a fountain pen you had found in an antique shop, the barrel engraved with the Lecter coat of arms. He said nothing, simply clicked it open and tested its weight in his hand. Then, in a voice nearly too soft to hear, he said, “Thank you.”

You couldn’t guess then how your simple gift would stir such fierce emotion in him. But when he looked up, you saw something raw—relief, gratitude, and something else quietly smoldering behind his eyes.

“Hannibal…?”

He rose and stepped closer, so close you felt his breath. He swallowed as though preparing to speak, but no words came. Instead, he reached out, fingertips brushing your chin. You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but in seconds his lips pressed to yours—hesitant, searching. You tasted the trembling in him, felt the suppressed quake of desire. This was not the polite veneer; this was Hannibal stripped bare, desperate, clinging to a person he worshipped as his anchor against the world.

When you broke apart for air, you found your voice, shaky though it was. “Hannibal, I—”

He silenced you with a gentle press of his palm on your shoulder. You felt him exhale against your mouth, tension unwinding from his body. As he inclined his head—cheeks flushed, eyes still cast downward—you saw the vulnerability that had burrowed into him since childhood. In this moment, he didn’t wear the mask of unflappable charm; he gave you his broken pieces, trusting you to hold them gently.

From that day forward, Hannibal’s devotion only grew. It was in the quiet glances he stole when he thought you weren’t looking, the way he would hover close if anyone else tried to pull you into conversation. He wanted you entirely, as if the rest of the world was an unwelcome intrusion upon your shared space. He was fiercely protective, sometimes frightening in his intensity. When you touched him—fingers brushing his hair, your arms encircling his waist—he leaned into your every caress like a worshipper falling to his knees before a beloved deity.

But there was also the side of him that unfurled only in private. His breath catching when you took the lead, when you slipped a hand beneath the collar of his shirt and felt his heart pounding. He yielded to you, that calculating composure dissolving whenever you showed him softness. And the more he surrendered, the more you realized that Hannibal—so guarded, so controlled—desired nothing more than to be laid bare beneath the person who truly saw him.

Moments of intimacy brought him solace unlike any other. He would cling to you, voice trembling as he murmured in your ear: confessions of guilt over Mischa, the horror of what he had endured, the nightmares he couldn’t banish. He carried scars from that winter—the memory of losing her, of seeing something unthinkable. Yet with you, he trusted himself to unravel, giving you the only piece of him that was still genuinely, irrevocably human.

There came a night when you found Hannibal pacing in his room, the shutters drawn. Outside, the Parisian sky was a wash of moonlit blue. Inside, he looked ready to burst from the tension coiling in him. When you called his name, he turned with haunted eyes, as if the ghosts of those days in Lithuania hovered just outside his awareness.

He took a slow, unsteady breath. “I want only you,” he whispered, voice shaky with reverence. “I’ve always wanted only you.”

You stepped forward, cradling his face. “Hannibal, you have me.” He pressed his forehead against yours. A question trembled on his lips, but you understood before he spoke. With careful hands, you guided him to sit, letting him settle into your embrace. He yielded, fragile beneath your touch, eyes shining with unshed tears of relief.

When your mouths met again, there was nothing left of the boy who once hid behind stoicism. Instead, you felt every ounce of his need for you—his body, mind, and spirit clinging to the one person he believed could save him. In that hush of night, you made a silent promise: you would never let him stand alone against the ghosts of his past.

Hannibal kissed you back with a desperation that bordered on reverence. He was lost and found in the same breath, his entire being caught in the space between your heartbeats. As your closeness deepened, he pressed himself to you with complete surrender. This was the Hannibal Lecter no one else would ever see—vulnerable, trusting, and utterly devoted. He would let the whole world burn if it meant keeping you by his side.

In the years to come, Hannibal would chase greatness. Medicine, surgery, the refined arts. He would step into a realm of sophistication and hidden darkness. And yet, there was always you—a single constant in his fractured life. The tenderness he showed you in private belied the mask he wore in public. You were his sole confidant and temptation, the promise of genuine warmth he couldn’t find elsewhere.

At times, you would see flickers of cruelty, or hints of the shadow that lurked behind his calm veneer. You suspected he had become capable of unimaginable acts. But you also felt the ferocity of his attachment. Whenever your eyes met, you witnessed the boy from the war-torn estate, the boy who held your hand through nightmares and pressed trembling kisses to your lips as if you were his salvation.

You were the tether binding Hannibal Lecter to the last scrap of his humanity. And in turn, he was yours—devoted, jealous, and consumed by a love that had been forged in the fires of war and tragedy. No matter how many masks he wore to the outside world, he revealed the real man only to you: the one who knelt at your altar, worshipping you as the lone guiding star in a life overshadowed by darkness.

He would never let you go. And for reasons beyond simple logic or morality, you found yourself choosing to stay, bound to Hannibal Lecter by a love deeper and more consuming than either of you had ever thought possible. Together, you carried the memory of Mischa—the sweetness she represented—and refused to let that memory die. In his arms, you found the broken boy who needed your touch, your warmth. And in your presence, he found something more than hunger or vengeance: he found devotion.

[s-i-ll-y-w-i-ll-y]

“I need this job”

Frederick Chilton x Secretary!reader

Summary: You’re often late to your job as Dr. Chilton’s personal assistant and he appreciates punctuality. So when you aren’t there on time, it’s bothersome and could end up with you fired. At least he’s willing to give you another chance if you do something for him..

Tw! Dubcon, manipulation, reader being taken advantage of, abuse of power; Chilton being an ass, oral (m receiving)

(Please tell me if I missed some.)

People: @toshanyanyomy @neonlifeform @potatowithahat @mongooseundertheporch @beardedbarba @spellbound-multi @obnoxiousbag @jeongiejellie @mcghestie @blood-and-guts-and-spiderman @vorpaelyzis @slimegecko @bakedbeansplease @chimaerite @blue-cheerios @allthatglitterandgold @islatama

Note for those tagged:

You probably don’t remember why you’re tagged but early last year I made a post asking if anyone wanted some Frederick Chilton x readers and yous liked, reposted, or commented on the post.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stepped in from the rain, peeling off your coat and draping it over your arm. Your footsteps echoed throughout the quiet corridors. Nurses shot you looks of sympathy as you rushed down to the office at the end. Just as you reached it, the door swung open.

Your boss, the ‘respectable’ Dr Chilton loomed in the doorway, an aura of faux confidence and narcissism radiated off of him and his thousand dollar suits. “Oh good, you’re finally here.” He mumbled in a less than enthusiastic tone, stepping aside to let you in. A tired smile rested on his lips, and his eyes were void of anything except slight rage.

The tension pooled from all angles in that room since the second you stepped in. Your pace slowed, matching the pace of his footsteps between each tap of his cane. He slammed the door behind himself, the loud noise echoed throughout the room and made you jump out your skin.

Fear.

That’s all you could feel in this moment.

The room felt like it was getting smaller, was it? Maybe. Who knows? Could he tell you were freaking out? Could he tell you felt sorry? Maybe you should say something:

“Sir, I’m-“

“How many times have you been late this week?” He asked, plopping himself into his seat. He bore a serious expression that threatened to fall due to a smug smirk that lingered just beneath it.

You balled and uncurled your fists over and over as you stood in front of his desk, your eyes avoiding his sharp gaze, “three..”

Dr. Chilton’s smirk finally peaked through and he leaned forward, propping himself up on his arms. “I’m sorry, my dear. What was that?” His voice exuding cockiness.

“3 times, sir.” You replied louder, not bothering to hide the way your voice shook as you spoke. He could tell you craved nothing more than to sink into the floor, let the world swallow you whole- anything but stand here and get yelled at due to the plethora of excuses that you had offered him the past few days.

He cleared his throat, causing you to finally make eye contact with him, and repeated what you said; checking to see if he enjoyed the taste of that number as it rolled off of his tongue.

He did not.

Dr. Chilton hummed softly, thinking over his next words carefully. Without breaking eye contact, he stood back up and walked around his desk at an agonisingly slow pace, as if he was taunting you. His cane tapped on the floor before coming to an abrupt halt as he reached the front of his desk. He leaned against it and raised his hand, beckoning you closer with two fingers. “You do know that I have fired nurses for much less than this, correct?”

Your shoes clacked on the floor as you cautiously walked to him, stopping two feet away. His eyes scanned your face as you silently nodded.

“You’re very lucky I enjoy having you as my assistant. If you were anything like my last one, I would’ve kicked you to the curb by now.” He leaned his cane against his desk, just beside his legs, and folded his arms.

“..I am really sorry, sir. It’s difficult because of those road works and-“

Dr. Chilton’s hand shot up, stopping your apology before you could prattle on any longer. “It’s very irritating to have an assistant this disobedient- this…this unprofessional, I need you to understand that.” He spat, malice coating each word that came from his lips. Once again, he beckoned you closer.

To which you complied and stepped closer, only for him to grab you chin and yank you towards him, leaving a sliver of space between himself and you. “Hardworking, kind…yet you struggle to follow the simplest of rules.”

Your hand shot up to meet his wrist, grabbing it tightly and trying your best to pry it away. A silence fell between the two of you, making you more uneasy. The clock on the far side of the room was the only source of sound- aside from the faint echoey screams of patients who were slowly losing themselves to this slate grey, solitary prison, ruled by a tyrannical man on a power trip.

His gaze wandered down your body, analysing you, trying to find anything. A shiver shot up your spine as he smirked and let go of your chin, crescent indents from his nails on the underside of your jaw. His hand fell to your throat, his index and middle finger traced the marks he left. A soft chuckle left his lips as he pushed off the desk, causing you to step back.

He grabbed his cane and leaned on it as he stood up straight. “You know, three times could be three too many.” He smugly stated, both hands now clasped on the top of his cane.

You felt your stomach drop, “Excuse me?” You mumbled breathlessly.

“You heard me.”

Worry flashed across your face as you took a half step forwards, leaving enough space between the two of you. “Sir, I need this job-“

“You can find another. They won’t keep you as long as I have though, probably won’t pay as good either.”

Your mouth opened to protest but nothing came out.

Why did he switch? It was so sudden.

You were so screwed.

Your rent was due soon and you were one more pay check away from being on time this month. You had student loans to pay back too- you couldn’t risk this.

A jolt shot through you at the feeling of his warm hand gently nudging your agape mouth shut. Your eyes met his once more and there was something in his, besides the intimidating moss green you associated with this stern figure. His hand cupped your chin, thumb tracing your bottom lip. “It would be such a shame to see something so pretty out on the street.” Dr. Chilton stated, his voice somber, almost as if he felt bad for firing you. He guided his hand to weave through your hair, tugging your head back so you were looking directly at him. “You’re fresh out of college, aren’t you? No scholarship, I assume. Lots of debt?…rent due as well, I can imagine.”

You stayed still, listening to him as he spoke about you. You were aware that he knew all of this. No questions were needed for this, he has your file, after all. All those silly questions he asked prior to this moment seemed to make sense; it wasn’t general questions, he was finding things he could hold over you- use against you if it came to it.

The room went cold as the two of you drew closer to each other. Despite that, you felt hot. Very hot. The lingering warmth of his hand on your chin, the feeling of his nails digging into your soft skin. His caresses and pulls, although not too harsh, still were strong enough make you feel winded.

A gasp leapt from your lips as he tugged your hair, forcing you closer, your faces now inches apart. “I wonder what someone like you would do to keep their job…” he purred, his empty hand snaking around your waist.

~~~~

The wind and rain battered against the glass windows, threatening to burst through. Not that you could see the windows anyway, the blinds were drawn so no one outside could see you under Dr. Chilton’s desk, or watch as his hips rolled up to meet your mouth, or see that his trousers were all the way down at his ankles.

The faint smell of his cologne and the taste of him on your tongue had you drunk and craving more. Along with the mewls, moans and whimpers which fell from his lips.

A sloppy, lopsided grin was strewn across the doctor’s usually stressed and irritated face. You had never seen him so relaxed, it was odd to not see him with furrowed brows and his lips pressed in a fine line. But it was nice..he deserved to relax for once- although you’d gladly have it be anyone else doing what you’re up to. Frederick praised you as you took all of him in, one hand planted in your hair to guide you and keep you from pulling away when he got too close to the back of your throat.

Your head violently moved along his length as he chased his high, hand shaking vigorously as he tugged on your hair. Then he slowed as his release poured into your mouth. You held it in your mouth and turned to the bin, believing he’d let you spit it out. He eased his hand out of your tussled hair, moving to your chin to guide your head up so your eyes caught onto his.

“Swallow.”

He commanded, and, not risking your pay check, you did as he told. For that, he cooed and pulled you to your feet, sitting you down on his desk. “You did very good today…if you want to keep your job then perhaps we should keep this going.” He remarked, a cocky grin on his face.

A simple nod is all you could manage as you fixed your hair and wiped the drool off your chin, silently watching as he tucked himself away and put his belt back on. After that you padded across the wooden floor and opened the blinds again, despising how loud the floorboards creaked as you sauntered over to each one, the feeling akin to stepping on a squeaky floorboard whilst trying to sneak back to bed after getting a glass of water.

“Now then,” he reached for a pen and sighed as he glanced at the mountain of paperwork lingering on his desk. “Lets get to work.”

~~~~~

To my hos, PLEASE IGNORE THIS PURE SMUT OMG-

Sunday 19th January 2025, 7:41 PM

[multifandomfix]

Trick or treat!! Could I pick Dr. Chilton (Hannibal) + pillow? Thank you!

Frederick Chilton wasn’t known for softness, but tonight he seemed different. As he settled into bed, he looked at you, the sharp, carefully constructed facade he wore all day had faded, leaving him simply Frederick, the man who looked at you like you were the only comfort he had in this world.

“Are you comfortable,” he asked, almost hesitant. “Is the pillow…sufficient?”

You smirked, moving closer to rest your head on his chest. “This one’s better.”

A faint smile crossed his face, and his hand traced gentle shapes on your back. The gesture was a bit awkward but endearing, Frederick’s quiet way of showing you his love. He wasn’t used to letting his guard down, but in moments like this, he allowed himself, just for you.

“Stay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the dark. You felt his heartbeat, steady yet faster than usual, under your cheek.

You didn’t need to respond. The both of you already knew you weren’t going anywhere.

The Trick Or Treat event is now over. Thanks to all who participated.

[simping-overload]

ꜱᴏᴍᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ

notes: I revive myself with a Frederick fic. I've been itching to put out. Might be ooc blame it on the drugs. I'm messing around with my writing style, so pardon any inconsistencies <3

This work is part of a series of mine based on the "Being Alive" song in the musical company. The 2006 one specifically with Raúl Esparza!!

tags: post s2, ansgt, frederick cries, cuddles, not in an official relationship, but they act like they are. Gn reader no pronouns or gender mentioned.

synopsis: You haven't been able to see Frederick for weeks—not after Miriam Las pointed the finger to him being the Chesapeake Riper. Which was bull. When the tension died down, you finally managed to slip past and pay the shrink and visit.

Ao3 link // 1,846 words

ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem please do not follow or interact with my mlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛

The last few weeks have been the most boring moments of your life, being drowned in paperwork and not having your lovely shrink friend to pick on and bother.

When you finally managed to get caught up on your paperwork, you took the rest of the day off, claiming you were feeling under the weather.

You were actually picking up some things for Frederick, an expensive box of chocolate truffles, a few books filled with boring psychology studies, and a change of clothes. You remember the last time he was in the hospital, he whined constantly about how the gown ichtes his skin.

When you walked into the hospital, it was quiet, not another soul to be seen aside from the staff. Which was great since you won't have to worry about anyone snitching on you.

You approach the desk, setting your bags on the floor to let your arms relax.

"Hi, I'm here to see Frederick Chilton. I'm a friend of his." You tell the receptionist who eyes you up in down before typing away at their keyboard.

"Sorry, but he's not accepting any visitors."

This makes you frown. How badly did the feds interrogate him to make him close off his visitation.

"Can you just call and tell him that (Y/N) is here? He'll want to see me." You lean against your fist, giving them a pleading look.

They relent, dialing the number to Fredericks room. A few momments later and exchanging a few words, they hang up the phone.

"Well, you're all set. He's in room 3V, all the way down the hall and make two rights he'll be on the left."

You smile, grabbing your bags and leaving with a thank you

You knock on the door thrice, opening it once you hear a muffled 'come in'.

Frederick lays on his side, facing sway from the door and clutching a pillow to his chest.

You shut the door with a soft click, setting the bags on the most uncomfortable looking chairs you've seen before walking over to the side of his bed.

"Hey Freds." You say softly, crouching down to his level so he wouldn't have to move. You lean against the bed with your hands folded.

He looks like shit, but better than you'd thought he'd be, giving you a slight relief. You know the injuries could've turned out much worse.

His hair is grown out, more than he'd usually allow himself. You brush the hair back and out of his face.

Frederick sighs at your familiar and comfortable touch. "What are you doing here? I figured Jack forbade you from visiting."

You chuckle, gently dragging your nails across his scalp, "Oh he did. Even had someone tail me for the first few weeks to make sure I didn't see you. Then he proceeded to drown me in paperwork as if that'd stop me." Jack always did underestimate your determination.

Frederick smirks, proud at your defiance. "Then I assume Hannibal didn't manage to manipulate you into thinking I'm the riper, hm?"

"Obviously. How the hell would someone on a low meat and sodium diet be cannibal. Plus, you're already crippled—" Frederick face twitches when you called him crippled. "—with the cane. It just doesn't make sense." You huff, no one in the FBI has critical thinking skills anymore.

Frederick sighs in relief. He knew you were smart, but with how much of a master manipulator Hannibal is, he was worried he'd get you to turn on him, too.

"Good…" He trails off, eyes drifting to the bags. His face lits up seeing a very familiar chocolate company logo, Lindt Lindor.

His eyes snap back up to you, "Give me those truffles." He demands.

You chuckle, "Nuh uh, I got to make sure with your doctor that you can eat them. How about we get you changed instead?" You pat Fredericks good cheek, enjoying how cute he looks when he pouts. Stepping away, you go to grab the clothing.

"You have some audacity to tempt me. I swear once I'm recovered, I'm going to skin you alive."

"We both know you wouldn't cause you wouldn't have anyone else to get you your limited edition truffles."

You take the clothing out of the bag. It was a pair of silk PJs, the only kinds he'd wear, a few pairs of boxers and socks.

You place the clothes on the edge of the hospital bed, "I know how much you hate hospital gowns, so I got you stuff to change into. I can help you change into these, or can you do it yourself."

"I'm a grown man. I change myself. I'll call you back once I'm done, now shoo." He waves you off, using the nearby remote to move the bed into a sitting position. He painfully groans when he pushes himself off the bed, even though he is only shot in the face, the pain manged to spread, reaching his entire body.

He doesn't change until you step outside. He moves his legs to hang over the side of the bed, shimming the hospital issued gown and boxers off.

He grabs the pair of boxers, slipping them off before doing the same with the socks. He doesn't trust himself to try to stand on his own since he was bedridden for the last week.

He tugged the pants on, enjoying the way the silk felt against his skin. He ties the strings into a nice bow before grabbing the shirt.

He slips it on, minding the wires attached to his arm. He looks down to button it. He sees the scar on his abdomen. He lets out a shakey breath when his fingers graze over it. The memories of that night come rushing back like a tidial wave.

He quickly pushes the thoughts from his mind and finshes buttoning that shirt. He folds his old clothing and leaves it neatly placed at the edge of the bed.

"You can come in now."

When you enter, you aren't alone. His assigned doctor and her protogee follow in suit. he glances at the clock - 12:00 P.M. - the time for his midday check-up.

"Dr. Prescott, Dr. Harring. Hello." He gives them a tight-lipped smile. He wasn't in the mood for seeing anyone other than you at the moment.

"Mr. Chilton, we're just here for your routine checkup. Since you seem to have company, we'll make sure to be quick. Now, Dr. Harring." She pushes the younger doctor forward, letting him take the lead on the check-up as she rights down notes.

It was quick, simple, and uncomfortable. Whenever Dr. Harring touches his face he cringes in pain, and slight disgust at his oily hands.

After a bit, the doctor finally pulls away from him, "Looks like everything is good! You're recovering quite well, Mr. Chilton. You'll be outta here in no time!"

Frederick fakes a smile. He knows he's stuck here. He won't be let out until the trial or until the charges are dropped.

Dr. Prescott ushers the other out of the room, and before she leaves, she looks back at Frederick, "And yes, you can eat those truffles but only 3. I don't want to risk it getting stuck in there." She says before stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

Frederick gives you a knowing look when he glances between the back and you. You head over to the bag, digging through to find his favorites. Dark Chocolate Raspberry. He loves these concerning amount, even has a jar filled with them in his office. No one is allowed to touch, not even you.

He takes (snatches) them out of your hand, moaning in delight as he pops one in his mouth, enjoying the flavor on his tongue.

His thoughts begin to drift off as he thinks about his situation. He doesn't know what he's going to do with himself. Prison will be hell on earth for him, especially since he's crippled.

His reputation itself will be destroyed. He'd lose all his assets, his so-called friends, and whatever family he has left that actually still cares about him. By the time he gets out, he will have nothing. He won't have you.

The one person who sticks around him not just for his money or to raise their status. You're someone who actually likes him, sticking with him even with his asshole snob behavior that would have most people leaving without a second thought.

You actually listened to him, talked to him, and respected him. Even when he tried to push you away, you always came back. He doesn't want to lose you.

You notice Frederick drifting off, getting lost in his thoughts. His eyes downcasted with a far-off look. Bringing your hand to his chin, you lift his head back

"Hey… Are you okay?" You rub your finger on the underside of his chin, trying to get him to focus on you.

He owlishly blinks at you, coming back to reality he pulls away from your hand, leaning back against the bed.

"I'm fine." He huffs, popping another chocolate in his mouth.

You squint at him. You've known him for long enough to tell when he's lying.

"No, you're not. Scoot over." You slip your shoes off before slipping under the covers next to him.

You reach over, grabbing the bed remote to make the bed lay flat.

"What are you doing." He questions, scooting over reluctantly.

"We are going to cuddle and talk about our feelings. You know I hate when you hide things that bother you." You wrap your arms around him, pulling him to lay comfortably on your chest as you run your hands through his hair.

He huffs against you but doesn't say anything. Silently enjoying the way your hands feel, melting into your touch.

"I'm serious, Frederick. Tell me what's wrong."

This makes Frederick sigh. He doesn't ever like talking about his issues.

"If I get convicted, I'm done for. I lose everything I have." I'll lose you, he wants to say, but those words die in his throat. He buries his face into your shirt and sucks in a breath. He can feel tears stinging his one good eye. He hated crying.

"Not everything. I'm still here. I will always be here." You reassure him, and his body shakes as he begins to sob.

You rub his back, trying to soothe him, "C'mere baby." Pulling him up more, you take his scared face into your hand, wiping his tears away.

"I'll stick with you through everything. I'll get you a lawyer and a P.I., I'm not going to let them convict you." It's a promise that you're willing to take to the grave.

He doesn't respond and just cries harder. You rest his head into the crook of your neck, pressing soothing kisses to his temple as he cries himself to sleep.

You press a kiss to his temple, none of this was fair and you were going to be damn sure he gets the justice he deserves.

[enterrandomname]

Frederick Chilton + Child!Reader

Warning: Might be OOC, I dunno

Word Count: 411 words

⋆——————✧◦♚◦✧——————⋆

“Dad.”

“Dad.”

“Daddy.”

“Papa.”

“Dad, wake up!”

A slap on the face immediately woke Frederick up. He gasped for air as he sat up, turning his head to look at the child that waited impatiently next to his bed.

“Santa came to the house and left gifts!” you exclaimed, jumping up and down as you pointed at the opened door. Chilton sighed but nodded. “Yes, yes, can’t you just give me 5 more minutes of rest, sweetie?” He mumbled, grabbing his pillow and shoving it in his face.

“But, dad!” you whined. “I want to open my presents!” You looked down at the ground, trying to come up with an idea to get your father out of bed. Frederick kept his eyes open as he waited for whatever was going to happen.

Sighing once again, he placed the pillow on the side and got out of bed, putting his slippers on. You smiled and grabbed his hand pulling him to the living room. “Calm down; the presents aren’t going anywhere.” He said that, giving you a pat on the head with his free hand.

“Fine!” You huffed, letting go of his hand before crossing your arms. Chilton shook his head, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Do you want pancakes for breakfast?”

“Yes!”

A smile formed on his face as he heard your response. He never once found himself having a child, but it seemed that changed when he found you all by yourself near his house. He felt some sort of connection with you.

“Dad?” Your voice tore him away from his thoughts. “Yes?” He responded, looking down at you. “Can we get a cat?”

. . .

“Perhaps when you’re old enough, we can get one.” God knows what he is getting himself into in the future.

Placing a plate of pancakes in front of you, he watched as you ate your pancakes happily. “Remember to eat slowly; I don’t want you to choke.” He reminded you. “I know! I know, dad!”

“Why do you always act like I haven’t fed you in months? Is this some sort of medical condition that needs to be checked?”

⋆——————✧◦♚◦✧——————⋆

“Dad, is it okay if I go to Hannibal’s house next week? He is going to teach me how to cook.” He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you. “Aren’t you a bit young to be cooking?” He asked. “Yeah, but Hannibal said it’s never too young to start!” You exclaimed.

“Should I be concerned?”

[madamsnape921]

Dr. Daddy

Pairing: Frederick Chilton x female reader 

Warning: Sugar Daddy/baby

WC: 1847

Raúl Taglist: @beccabarba @alwaysachorusgirl @law-nerd105  @prurientpuddlejumper  @welcometothemxdhouse @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @lv7867 @word-scribbless 

@plaidbooks @storiesofsvu @navalcriminalimagines

You grew up in a small town, but after completing grad school you found yourself in Baltimore. You landed a 9-5 job in your field and stuck with it for seven years, until the monotony of your daily routine became too much to bear. Every morning, you dragged yourself out of bed, went to work, and returned to your dingy and empty apartment. Once in a while, you would go on a date that either ended disastrously or was unbearably dull.

Eventually, the day arrived when you could no longer tolerate the situation. You had already prepared a resignation letter, and it felt good to put your thoughts into words. The letter was printed out, signed, and handed in right away. With your head held high, you left the office and made your way home. But as soon as you changed into comfortable clothes, the full weight of reality hit you.

You slumped onto your couch as your thoughts raced. You had impulsively quit your job without a backup plan. Thankfully, you had enough money saved up to last you through the month and maybe even the next. But what were you going to do now? You grabbed your phone and started scrolling through job listings. The more you looked, the more nauseous you felt. The idea of going back to another 9-5 job made you cringe. What other options did you have? Maybe starting an OnlyFans account? No, that wasn't something you felt confident in doing. But perhaps you were on the right track with exploring alternative paths now.

Over the next few weeks, you devised a rough strategy. You had recently begun selling photos of your feet on the internet and were pleasantly surprised by how profitable it was. You may have benefited from the money, but the process didn't really matter to you. Thus, you continue to seek out a more efficient way to make a living.

After a few months of wandering aimlessly since quitting your job, you finally found a solution. You made the decision to become a sugar baby. After signing up on a reputable sugar website, you waited for potential matches. And then, like magic, there was a notification.

Dr. Daddy: Hello, I stumbled upon your profile and was immediately intrigued. Your confidence radiates, but there is also a softness to you that draws me in. Your eyes sparkle like precious jewels and your piercing gaze demands attention. I’m Frederick.  

SmutSlut: Hello, Frederick! My name is YN.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life was amazing! It had been almost a year since you first met Dr. Frederick Chilton. You spent most of your time attending social events as his "arm candy," and when you weren't out and about, you were having wild, passionate sex. It baffled you why Frederick didn't just pick someone to settle down with. After all, he was incredibly intelligent, undeniably attractive, and an exceptional lover. 

Your new apartment was incredibly luxurious, and you had never owned such an extravagant wardrobe before. Frederick had made it clear that he was the only sugar daddy you could have for the entirety of your relationship. He took care of all your expenses and spoils you with anything your heart desires. Everything seemed perfect, except for one small issue...you were starting to develop genuine feelings for him.

After much internal deliberation, you make the decision to confront Frederick about the issue. The worst that could happen is that he breaks things off, and you'll have to rebuild yourself and start anew. You send him a text message, mustering up the courage to address the situation head on.

YN: Frederick, I need to talk to you. 

Frederick: …

YN: It’s really important. 

Frederick: I can’t talk right now, YN. 

Well that was weird. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been three weeks since you received the final text from Frederick, and your heart still aches. You've tried reaching out to him several times but have yet to receive a response.

Each passing day feels heavier as you struggle to comprehend Frederick's sudden disappearance from your life. The once vibrant and exhilarating world he introduced you to now feels dull and empty without his presence. You find yourself questioning every moment spent together, trying to decipher any hidden signs or warnings of his impending departure.

Despite your best efforts to move on, thoughts of Frederick consume your mind. His absence leaves a void that seems impossible to fill. Every knock on the door sends a jolt of hope through you, only to be met with disappointment when it's not him standing on the other side.

One evening, as you sit alone in the lavish apartment that once felt like a sanctuary but now feels like a gilded cage, a knock breaks the silence. Your heart races with anticipation as you make your way to the door, desperately hoping it's Frederick returning to explain his absence.

To your surprise, it's not Frederick standing there but a courier holding a small package. Confusion clouds your thoughts as you accept the package, thanking the courier absently before shutting the door behind you. Your hands tremble slightly as you tear open the package, revealing a sleek black box with an ornate letter 'F' embossed on the lid. Your heart pounds in your chest as you slowly lift the lid, revealing a stack of letters neatly arranged inside.

With trembling fingers, you pick up the first letter and unfold it. The elegant handwriting is unmistakably Frederick's, and your breath catches in your throat as you read his words. In the letter, Frederick explains that he had to leave suddenly due to unforeseen circumstances beyond his control. He expresses his regret for not being able to explain in person and admits that he never intended to hurt you.

Tears blur your vision as you read through the rest of the letters, each one detailing Frederick's feelings for you and his struggles with his own emotions. You realize that he had been grappling with his growing affection for you and had chosen to leave to spare both of you from potential heartache in the future. The weight of his words sinks in, and a mix of emotions swirl within you.

Despite the pain of his absence, you find a sense of closure in Frederick's letters. His vulnerability and honesty touch your heart, and you can't help but feel a bittersweet gratitude for the time you shared together. As you read the last letter, a gentle knock on the door startles you.

You set aside the letters and cautiously make your way to the door, unsure of what to expect. With a deep breath, you open it to find Frederick standing there, his expression a tumultuous blend of emotions.

"YN," he begins, his voice soft yet filled with intensity. "I had to come back. I couldn't bear being away from you any longer." His eyes search yours, seeking understanding and forgiveness.

For a moment, silence hangs heavy between you as you take in his presence once again. You struggle to keep your emotions in check as you realize he is using a cane, a new addition that sends waves of emotion through you as you process the change in his appearance.

"Frederick," you whisper, reaching out to touch his shoulder, "what's happened?"

He takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's been... not easy. There were complications, YN. Injuries. But I'm okay now." He forces a smile, but you can tell it's strained. "I missed you, more than I ever thought possible."

You feel a surge of relief and happiness amidst the confusion and worry, but also a mixture of sadness and fear for the unknown. "What does this mean?" you ask, unsure if you're ready to face the future together.

Frederick reaches up and cups your cheek, his fingers gentle yet firm. "It means," he says softly, "that I want to be with you, no matter what. I know we have a lot to discuss and figureout, but I'm willing to face it all with you. I just can't imagine being without you anymore."

His words send a wave of warmth through you, and you find yourself leaning into his touch. "I don't want to be without you either," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

As you stand there in each other's arms, you can't help but wonder what the future holds for you both. With Frederick back by your side, the world seems a little less dark and a little more full of promise. You know that whatever comes next, you'll face it together, hand in hand, ready to conquer any obstacle that stands in your way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frederick made his way to the couch and carefully set down his cane. He then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, revealing a perfect erection that made your mouth water. As he leisurely stroked his cock, he gazed at you with an intense stare. "Come here and suck Daddy's cock, little girl," he commanded.

 You hesitated for a moment, then approached the couch, your eyes never leaving Frederick's. With trembling hands, you reached out and wrapped your fingers around his thick shaft. As you began to stroke him, your other hand made its way up his body, caressing his chest, and eventually finding its way to his nipple.

Frederick's eyes rolled back in pleasure as you gently pinched his nipple, causing him to moan softly. His hand threaded through your hair and guided your head towards his erection. With a mix of devotion and anticipation, you opened your mouth and took his dick inside, savoring the taste of his precum.

As you sucked and stroked, Frederick's breathing grew heavier, and he began to thrust his hips, guiding his cock deeper into your throat. You gagged slightly at first, but the more you tried, the more Frederick pushed, until you found yourself choking on his member, your throat constricting around his girth. Frederick's breaths shortened, and his grip on your hair tightened, both of you caught in this intense, primal dance.

You pulled back, gasping for air, and Frederick's eyes met yours, filled with hunger and approval. His cock twitched in your hand, glistening with your saliva and precum. With a lustful growl, he pulled you up onto his lap. Without any warning, he pushed your panties to the side and plunged his member inside of you. 

“You okay, angel,” Frederick asked, concerned for your well-being.

You gasped, trying to catch your breath. “Yes, Daddy,” you managed to breathe, your body responding to his every touch.

Frederick's fingers found their way to your clit, rubbing it roughly as he thrust into you. Your nerves were set ablaze, and you could feel the familiar tightness building within you. Frederick knew just what to do, and soon you were arching your back, moaning in ecstasy as you climaxed.

Frederick kept up his relentless pace, and just as you thought you couldn't bear it any longer, he groaned and tensed, filling you with his warm seed. You both collapsed onto the couch, your bodies still joined together, hearts pounding in sync.

[somewosoloverrr]

hey! saw your post about requesting rory! :)

can u do a chilton rory x f!reader?

bunch of fluff in the beginning, rory and r just cuddling (r is smaller by like 5-6 inches) w forehead kisses and all bc yes

then during that time Emily and Richard come by unexpectedly for whatever reason and see them together. they don't approve of it and blah blah blah crying and drama and angst bc yes

it's up to you if you make them all good in the end I don't mind (I feel like they wouldn't b like this or would maybe warm up to the idea? I'm not so sure but I feel like Richard would be more supportive then emily but it's a ff and not canon so make them mean👍)

thank you sm! :) <<<333

Omg love this plot, thanks for requesting <333

Rory x fem! Chilton r

Tw: slight homophobia, yelling, angst, heavy crying, making out

p.s happy ending:))

Times like this, you felt so safe, so protected, like the whole world was at peace. Your head on her chest, your arms snaked around her her waist as her hands played with your hair. Out of nowhere she would kiss your forehead and you would grab her hand and kiss it return.

Both of you just laying on her bed as you watched a random movie.

Afternoons like this were the best, after an exhausting day at Chilton, coming to her house and simply cuddling, then after a long while doing your homework together and of course staying over as Lorelai absolutely loved you.

At one point the movie was getting boring which lead to many kisses on your forehead, so instead of just kissing Rory’s hand back you turned your ear around, resting propping your body up with one of your elbows. You looked into those ocean blue eyes and closed the gap between the two of you.

Rory smiled against your lips which made you almost melt into a puddle. You were about the break the kiss however the blue eyed girl pulled you back in putting her hand on the back of your neck, now your lips moving roughly against each other.

You then moved down to her neck quickly for finding her sweet spot as she let out a hum of pleasure. You made sure to not leave a mark as Lorelai would come soon and you didn’t want her to think you had done it when you hadn’t and weren’t going to soon, you’re relationship was healthy and none of you wanted the other for sex it was only pure love.

After finishing Rory bent her head down to kiss you once again, what the two of you didn’t notice was a very shocked Richard and Emily standing at the door of the room, which apparently you hadn’t heard when it opened.

Emily shrieked as she saw the two of you kissing, she knew you were Rory’s friend and were a very good student at Chilton she never expected this between the two of you.

Hearing a shriek both of you jumped away, leaving you to fall from the bed because of the shock. “Oh my God, grandma grandpa what are you doing here!” Rory exclaimed as she looked at her grandparent with wide eyes, they finally caught her, she had been so careful in keeping her relationship private.

You quickly stood up and straightened out your uniform as you looked at the Gilmores, your parents were good friends with them so you often saw them and they absolutely loved you. However now they had a bewildered look, it was like hatred coming out of their eyes and slowly making your way towards you making a chill go down your spine.

“We just wanted to surprise you, clearly I should be asking what the hell are you doing to my granddaughter!?” Emily answered Rory but now her attention was towards you.

Just like that you froze, Rory picked up your nervousness and took your hand bringing you back to reality. “Grandma.” She said looking over at her “grandpa,” she added now looking at Richard, “the person I’ve been dating this whole time was y/n… I get you’re not used to this type of relationship, but we’re really happy with each other and I hope you can accept us, accept me.” Rory finished, her voice breaking a bit, she was on the verge of crying, she he never been so scared of being accepted.

You carresed her hand with your thumb, hoping to relieve your girlfriend a bit. “No, I will not accept this young girl! A woman is supposed to be with a man not another woman! You’re just confused with friendship !” Emily yelled, this wasn’t right in her eyes, it was crazy.

A few tears came out of Rory’s eyes, how could her own grandma not accept her. “Miss Gilmore, please, I promise what we have is real. I really love your granddaughter and she makes me happy and I make her happy. Please don’t be mad, it’s true love, we just love each other, we can’t control our feelings, love is love…”

“Y/n i have known you for a very long time, I always thought you were a brilliant young girl. I can’t believe you would do this, and raising your voice at me how dare you! I wool speak to your parents about this!” Emily shouted at you anger completely taking over her as Richard just watched, the man wouldn’t even move.

“Hey do not talk to y/n that way! You know what grandma ? If you’re not gonna accept me then leave ! Just leave!” Rory defended you as she shouted back at her grandma pointing towards the door so they would just leave.

“Rory, don’t talk to your grandma that way.” Richard finally spoke up, you looked between Rory and her grandparents not knowing what to do, this was just crazy.

“Hey, hey, what is going on here?” Lorelai asked as walked in with her keys in hand. Thank God for Lorelai’s timing.

As soon as the woman saw her daughters and your puffy eyes she knew what was going on and immediately pushed through Emily and Richard and stood in front of the two girls. “I think you need to leave.” She stated calmly but clearly enraged.

Emily shook her head “Did you know about this? Your daughter and y/n were kissing when we arrived… they’re both girls and they’re dating how can you let tha-“

“Shut up mom. Of course I know about this, Rory and y/n have been going out for a long time now, and I completely accept this. Y/n is soo good for Rory, if you’re not going to accept your own granddaughter for who she loves. Then leave .” Lorelai cut Emily off not likening the way she treated her daughter.

“All of you are a disgrace, we’re leaving” Emily replied enraged, taking Richards hand and turning around. Meanwhile the man looked a bit sadly mouthing a “sorry” as he turned around following his wife’s lead.

The front door was slammed shut and the three girls stood frozen, Rory’s cries was the only thing heard. Y/n placed a kiss to Rory’s head whispering in her ear “I’m so sorry” and then grabbed her backpack.

“I gotta go, they’re gonna tell my parents- I’m sorry thanks for letting me stay over Miss Gilmore”y/n let out, her voice shaky as she made her way to Rory’s door not daring to look back.

“Y/n wait!” Lorelai shouted in hopes of her daughter’s girlfriend coming back but said girl was already outside.

[doe-eyeddarlin]

Reader x Frederick Chilton fluff it’s a little angsty and it’s hurt comfort. Tw: Mentions of trauma and night terrors.

Hard days, harder nights

The air was crisp and the cold biting, winters in Baltimore were excruciating. It’s days like this Chilton wondered why he even stayed here, he could’ve retired in Florida. His ego simply wouldn’t let him leave a bruised reputation behind and his book was more of a success than he ever thought possible. For everything Hannibal and Gideon put him through it felt now more than ever he needed to continue his work. This feeling was bitter and nagging, he knew that any day working here it could happen again it set him on edge. Every now and again the trauma of what happened seeped in and pried so deeply it shook his very being.

This feeling hung in the air around him the entire day, he tried his best to shake the feeling and not let it affect his sessions. The only thing grounding him was the thought of coming home to you at the end of the day. In the midst of all the uncertainty that his recovery and FBI investigation brought you were his constant, a soft place to land, truly his everything. Your voice hummed so lovely in reassurance through everything never doubting him once, you never made him afraid you might leave. With his work it was so hard to see the good in a person or even believe a person was capable of being good but you, were the exception soft, caring, and unwavering in support.

As soon as the day came to a close he rushed out the door braving the harsh wind scurrying to his car. The drive home you were all he could think of, you greeting him from the kitchen cooking dinner. Domestic bliss seemed like it would be out of the cards for him after Abel Gideon nearly butchered him. Fortunately the drive felt quick as he let his thoughts circle back to you before he knew he was pulling into the drive way.

Opening the door he’s met with warmth and the smell of something delicious. Your voice resonates to the foyer as he hangs his coat and slips off his loafers. In turn you’re met with the gentle click of his cane with each step as he enters the doorway into the kitchen. His face beams at your sight and he embraces you tightly inhaling your scent.

“I missed you so much,” he breathes out and kisses your forehead.

“I missed you too, Frederick,” you cheerfully reply hugging him tightly. From his tone and demeanor you could tell it was a rough day for him. More often than not bad days bled into even worse nights for him. You were well aware that tonight you’d likely hold him through a night terror and comfort him until the whimpers stopped. The frequency of these terrors decreased greatly since he’d opened up to you and let his trust for you grow. To get here was certainly a long road but you were determined to travel that road as long as it took. Frederick may not have seen it but he was worth it and if you needed to reassure him more you would.

“I love you, Frederick”, you sign deeply cradling his head against your chest.

“I love you too, Y/N”, he responds back voice wavering with emotion. On your chest you can feel the warmth of his tears streaming down his cheek. You stroke his hair gently, content to stay like this as long as he needed.

[thetravellerssnotebook]

Why aren't there more Luke Danes fanfictions :(((( I've searched so hard but there's so few

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

Here's a little concept that I'm playing around with. It's a NCIS x Hannibal supernatural creature au. I'm not sure if I want the end pairing to be Hannibal x Reader or Frederick Chilton x Reader yet. Warnings: mention of injury, death, and autopsy. If you worked in any type of law enforcement, it was impossible not to know about the NCIS team based in Washington. Led by Leroy Jethro Gibbs, the NCIS were some of the most resourceful and skilled federal agents Doctor Frederick Chilton had ever had the misfortune to hear of.

Yet something about the NCIS team didn't seem right and it nagged at him. One day the frustrated doctor gave in to temptation. He researched the NCIS team, grasping at threads and noting the abnormalities. As his research continued, he was left with more questions than answers. How could Gibbs survive his injuries and why did he heal so quickly? What made DiNozzo such a dangerous mix of charm, focus, and dedication? How could David hunt her target across continents without losing the trail? Were there any cyber security walls that McGee couldn't penetrate? How extensive was Mallard's knowledge of death and autopsy? Why was Scuito so loved by her team? And how could the most recent addition to their team, (Surname) uncover secrets that had been buried for decades?

Frederick had no way of knowing that he'd find out the answers to his questions very soon and that he'd be drawn into worlds far more complex than his own.

[mrsfrederickchilton]

F R E D E R I C K (ongoing)

Dear readers, I have written a huge story (slow burn) involving our dear Dr. Chilton, a female reader and her criminal lover (definitely not Hannibal, younger and not cannibal). I have never posted any of my stories here before and I am very nervous about doing this for the first time. Please, if you would be interested in reading this, leave some kind of sign. Below is the annotation / summary and list of chapters (ongoing, with links).

Love. Passion. Lies. Betrayal.

A game where every rule will be broken.

He was taken from you, and without him you see no point in anything. Half of your soul, the love of your life is a criminal who ended up in a mental hospital trying to protect you. Its egocentric, arrogant, smug and ambitious head, doctor Chilton, is the only one who can give you permission to visit. However, he uses the situation for his own benefit and does not intend to give in at all.

Can you outplay him?

What are you ready for?

You know that you are ready for everything.

Psychological confrontation, a dangerous interweaving of three destinies, deep feelings and hidden intentions – the story "Frederick" can be classified as a romantic thriller, dark romance, psychological thriller, drama, modern and action-packed love story.

Dear Readers,

Unfortunately, English is not my native language. Therefore, I apologize very much for possible mistakes and inaccuracies. I use my knowledge and two different online translators. I will be grateful if you point out possible mistakes to me, do not hesitate to do so.

I am very grateful to you for reading. If you leave any comments, I will be very happy. There is nothing better for an author than feedback from dear readers.

------ Also on AO3------

LIST OF CHAPTERS (ongoing)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30, Chapter 31, Chapter 32, Chapter 33, Chapter 34, Chapter 35, Chapter 36, Chapter 37, Chapter 38, Chapter 39, Chapter 40,

Chapter 41, Chapter 42, Chapter 43, Chapter 44, Chapter 45, Chapter 46, Chapter 47, Chapter 48, Chapter 49, Chapter 50, Chapter 51, Chapter 52, Chapter 53, Chapter 54, Chapter 55, Chapter 56, Chapter 57, Chapter 58, Chapter 59, Chapter 60, Chapter 61, Chapter 62, Chapter 63, Chapter 64, Chapter 65, Chapter 66, Chapter 67, Chapter 68, Chapter 69, Chapter 70, Chapter 71, Chapter 72, Chapter 73, Chapter 74

[cece693]

Could I request a doctor reader with Mathew Brown from Hannibal

after will abandoned him he was placed into the same hospital he once worked at and transfers his devotion and obsession onto his new doctor ( which they don’t reciprocate but he is determined to make them see the truth . He won’t fail again

I Won't Fail Again

pairing: matthew brown x male reader tags: Matthew needs help, but he's a good guy, well kinda, mentions of will and how he dumped his ass, creepy if this occurred in real life, open ended, this takes place over multiple sessions explaining the many line breaks

Matthew Brown had once devoted himself wholly to Will Graham. It was a devotion born of fixation and admiration, a strange, electric faith in Will’s innocence and cause. But that faith had failed him—Will had abandoned him in the end, leaving Matthew alone with the ruins of that intense purpose.

Legally, psychiatrically, he was considered too unstable to be in a conventional prison. But those who saw madness where Matthew saw clarity found it easier to send him to the very same hospital he’d once worked at. The irony chafed at him: how he’d worn these halls in uniform, how he’d walked among patients with a sense of authority. Now he was one of them—a patient in the place he used to think he controlled.

Matthew’s new doctor spoke in measured tones and wore his well-pressed suits like a shield. Something about your composed manner and unwavering voice snatched Matthew’s devotion before he even realized it. He started to watch you the way he used to watch Will, with an unnerving intensity that left the staff uneasy.

At first, Matthew tried to be subtle. He’d never been patient with these feelings, but he understood the delicate nature of coaxing truth from people who refused to see it. He studied your routine: when you arrived, how long you lingered over your notes, what you ordered from the vending machine during your mid-afternoon slump. The man was so carefully, elegantly boring that it fascinated Matthew. He found a new anchor for his once-directionless faith.

They met in a consultation room with a small table and two chairs. “Mr. Brown,” You greeted in a quiet, authoritative voice. “I understand you used to work in this hospital.”

“I did,” Matthew replied, drawing out each syllable to watch for any reaction and was rewarded by your shifting in your seat and adjustment to the cuffs that latched around your wrists. “People here never appreciated what I did for them. They questioned my methods. But I was always correct in my observations.”

You nodded politely, your eyes skimming Matthew’s file. “You worked with Will Graham, an FBI profiler.”

“Yes,” Matthew’s voice caught. “I believed in him. I still do, though he left me behind.”

“And now, you’re here.” Your tone remained unwavering, though Matthew could feel the slight tension in the line of your shoulders.

“Now I’m here,” Matthew echoed softly, leaning forward. “So are you. And you matter.” You blinked, betraying a flicker of confusion. To Matthew, that confusion was like a flash of lightning in the dark. He’d glimpsed a crack in your armor.

The nights were endless, fluorescent-lit intervals broken by head checks and medication calls. Matthew forced his eyes open to watch the corridor’s watery reflections dance through the glass panel in his door. In those quiet hours, he replayed each session, searching for some sign of your needs—some place where fear might be peeled back to reveal the truth beneath. He wrote letters he was never allowed to send, letters scrawled in the margins of paper meant for therapy notes. He does not see what is in front of him, he penned, sketching your profile from memory. But I won’t fail again. Not like before.

A part of Matthew still ached from Will’s desertion. That pain only hardened his resolve. You would see he wasn’t insane, or misguided, or broken. Matthew knew what was real, and you could be guided—he just needed time.

“There’s no reason you should trust me yet,” Matthew said, his voice steady, “but I promise you, what I’m telling you is important.”

You scrutinized Matthew’s pale face. “And what is it you believe so fervently now?”

“That there’s a higher understanding. We’re all looking at these petty illusions. The staff, they talk about me behind my back— but you? You see more.”

“I see a man who was obsessed once. I see a man who has trouble trusting others because he believes himself to be the only one who truly sees the truth.”

Matthew’s lips curved, halfway between amusement and resentment. “My last devotion was misplaced. This time, I won’t make that mistake.”

You tilted your head, measuring those words. “You must realize that I’m your doctor, Matthew, not your friend.”

“And Will was the FBI profiler, not my friend,” Matthew countered sharply, “yet I still believed. But belief alone isn’t always enough—we have to act.”

A hint of alarm flickered in your eyes. “That’s precisely what gets you into dangerous territory.”

Matthew exhaled a slow breath. “Danger is only a problem if you’re blind to it.”

Two weeks later, you discovered a piece of folded paper in your office, slipped under the door. It was a neatly drawn portrait of your face—perfectly proportioned, every line precise. Beneath it, in neat handwriting, was a single phrase: I see you.

You felt a chill prickle over your arms. You had no doubt who had left it. Matthew Brown was watched closely in his room, but hospital schedules weren’t bulletproof. At some point, Matthew had found a way to slip this note out. Or maybe he had an ally; or maybe he had manipulated the staff. You couldn’t tell. Either way, Matthew had decided to keep pressing.

Something clenched inside your chest. You’d heard stories about Brown’s past. You'd read the man’s file thoroughly—his unwavering conviction, his near-fanatic devotion to Will Graham. If that devotion had pivoted toward you now…you threw the paper away, ignoring the subtle quake in your hands.

During their next session, you looked down at your desk, deliberately avoiding Matthew’s penetrating gaze. But Matthew leaned forward, a serenity painting his face, as though he saw a door open in your guarded expression.

“They’ll never understand you the way I do,” Matthew said softly.

“This dynamic between us,” You answered, measuring every word, “is not about understanding on the same level. I’m here for your treatment, to help you cope, to—”

“Cope with reality?” Matthew cut in, smirking. “Whose reality? Yours? The staff’s? People blind to the evil that lurks? I was right before, you know. About Will. It was all part of a bigger design. No one believed me except him. But he left me behind, too. I won’t let that happen again. I’m better prepared. I see you for who you are.”

“And who am I?” You asked, voice trembling with more frustration than you intended.

“You are more than a doctor. You are a gatekeeper. But you don’t realize what you can open.” Matthew’s chains rattled softly as he stood—an abrupt, forced movement before the orderlies could push him back down. “I’m going to show you. I’ll make you see it.”

The orderlies pressed Matthew back into his chair, forcibly securing his wrists. But his voice cut through the hush, steady, still so certain:

“I won’t fail this time.”

You stood, turning away, every nerve on edge. Part of you wanted to run from that unwavering stare. But you had to stand your ground—you were the doctor, you reminded yourself. Matthew was the patient. That was the line. That was the truth.

Yet, as you closed the door on the session, you could still feel Matthew’s eyes boring through the narrow window. A part of you couldn’t shake the prickling sense that the boundary you thought so firm might just be one more illusion Matthew Brown was determined to shatter.

Days turned into weeks, but Matthew’s conviction never faded. He filled diary pages with sketches of you, of the hospital corridors, of the images in his head. His rhetoric grew more certain each time he saw you—no grandstanding, no pleas for acceptance, just calm belief that you'd one day stand at the threshold of truth and see as Matthew did.

Outside, the hospital staff whispered about transferring Matthew to an even more secure unit. You found those whispers comforting, and yet a strange tension resided within you. You weren't supposed to feel unnerved. But a single look from Matthew across the corridor, or a note slipped under you door, reminded you that devotion—obsession—had a power all its own.

And Matthew? He’d quietly vow, over and over, behind that door with its little window, “I won’t fail again.” Because he had found a new clarity, a new mission, and a new center of gravity in you. He would not let this devotion slip through his fingers.

[s-i-ll-y-w-i-ll-y]

MASTER LIST

Symbols~

Platonic • 🌷

Romantic • 🌹

Angst • 🥀

Fluff • 🪻

Smut • 🌻

NBC| Hannibal

Hannibal Lecter-

Stalking - 🌷🥀

On your walk home, you decides to help a cute couple with directions. However, this act of kindness is proof that what goes around does not come back around.

Be Our Guest - 🌷🥀

Hannibal and Will host a small dinner party between themselves, a work friend and her family. But with Will and Hannibal, there’s no such thing as a happy ending.

Murder Dads - 🌷🥀

Y/n had a good home life, that was until they found out it was all a lie. Fortunately, they had two people who treated them well and gave them the life they wanted.

Will Graham-

Stalking - 🌷🥀

On your walk home, you decide to help a cute couple with directions. However, this act of kindness is proof that what goes around does not come back around.

Be Our Guest - 🌷🥀

Hannibal and Will host a small dinner party between themselves, a work friend and her family. But with Will and Hannibal, there’s no such thing as a happy ending.

Murder Dads - 🌷🥀

Y/n had a good home life, that was until they found out it was all a lie. Fortunately, they had two people who treated them well and gave them the life they wanted.

I Don’t Understand - 🌻

You stay behind after class to ask your teacher a question and received an answer that you could never have expected.

Frederick Chilton-

“I need this job” - 🌻

You’re often late to your job as Dr. Chilton’s personal assistant and he appreciates punctuality. So when you aren’t there on time, it’s bothersome and could end up with you fired. At least he’s willing to give you another chance if you do something for him..

I take requests!

I will write:

Fluff

Angst

Character x character

Character x reader

Smut

Dubcon (within reason)

WLW, MLM, WLM (Literally anything)

Gore (non-sexual)

Headcannons

Drabbles

Ficlets

I will NOT write:

Noncon/rape

Scat/piss

Somnophilia

Necrophilia

Paedophilia

Incest

Beastiality

[frederickchiltonsproperty]

Me reading Chilton fics kicking my feet n shit as if he isn’t emotionally abusive in every single one.

[sugar-sweets-fanfic]

нαρρy αηηıѵєяsαяy

Frederick Chilton × Fem!Reader

⚠️ Warning(s) ⚠️- MINORS DNI; Dominant Reader, a little oral (male receiving), hand job, restricting, choking, nursing kink, condom breaking.

Plot - Its your 15th anniversary. The two of you have a nice night. With a nice meal and some wine. The best way to end the night was some intimacy. You may get a little overboard.

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵. He actually remembered your anniversary. It had been 15 years. So you didn't give him TOO much credit. However, you allowed him to take you out. The two of you enjoyed a lovely evening. Fancy food and expensive drinks. Reliving some old fond memories. You felt more than amazing. Due to being so dolled up. Feeling the need, though you didn't care to do it for him. But tonight was different. So you wore his favorite black dress. Those heels that 'make you ass so fine'. Though oddly enough he was being genuinely sweet. Touching your hand a lot and doing things he didn't normally do. Opening every door for you, pulling out your seat. Giving you constant kisses. Not the tongue down your throat kind. The soft tender ones. On your cheek, neck, temple, and hand.

After the meal, he helped you into the car. Since you were a tad tipsy. Leaning back against the leather seat. The air filled with wine and his devine aftershave. Music warming your senses. It was dark outside, yet was illuminated by the buildings around. The street lights hitting your eyes, reflecting beautifully against your hues. Humming softly with the music. You feel a warm sensation grow on your inner thigh. Glancing down, you see Frederick's hand. It was gripping you firmly.

"You've been such a good...date tonight." You mew.

"Well, it's a big anniversary for us. Fifteen years? Damn—where has the time gone..?"

You let out a soft giggle. Leaning over a bit. Your hand planted on the back of his. Your head touches his shoulder. Bunching up your curly hair. "Mm.. I dunno. But we have some good memories..dont we?" You smile at him. He returned the expression. Though he kept his main focus on the road. The rest of the ride was somewhat silent. Besides from the music. Although, it was pretty nice. Just enjoying one another's presence.

∘ ∘ ∘ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴏᴍᴇ

Tossing your purse and kicking off your heels. As Frederick removes his jacket and hangs it by the door. You hug him from behind. Melting against his back as you inhale his cologne. He places his hand on top of yours. Looking over his shoulder to try to see you. "I take it you had a nice night? Hm? I tried my best to impress you.. since I think I bore you nowadays." He chuckled.

"What? D..Darling. Of course I enjoyed it. You don't bore me.. why do you think you do?"

"Oh...no reason. Just it being so long. I just thought...— we haven't done anything nice together in a long time." He mumbled. His tone a touch saddened.

You let out a sigh of compassion. Feeling as though your work had taken it all over. You never do make time for Frederick. But you both were here now. Your hands slip around his torso. Soon finding the buttons to his vest. You begin to undo them. "I'm sorry baby. I should make more time for you.." uttering out as you continue to undo the buttons. You peck against the side of his neck lightly.

Both actions cause him to stiffen. His face growing flushed with heated emotions. "Heh..oh..I uhh..—Don't apologize. I shouldn't complain. We are both busy with work and very much buried in it." He chuckled awkwardly. The flushed discolor to his skin growing. Especially when you remove his vest. Tossing it aside in a playful manner.

You set it to the side and get in front of him. Reaching out for him to grab your hand. "C'mon..I really really need my Frederick. I need you..bad.." you wink playfully. Of course he takes your hand. Smiling bashfully to himself as you lead both of you to the bedroom.

Once inside, he gently backs you up against a wall. Growing super close to you. Instictually, you place your hands on his shoulders. Frederick leans in pressing his lips against yours. You hum softly in pleasure. He caresses your curves, until he reaches down. Getting the bottom of your dress. Lifting it up slowly. You allow him to remove your dress. Before going back in for more kisses. "Mmm..you're so delicious." You tease him. Soon slipping your hands down his torso.

"Yeah? Maybe you should place those lips somewhere else that would taste delicious." He flirted back. Eyeing you with such hunger.

You grin lightly, letting out a giggle. Biting your own bottom lip. "Is that what you want? My lips around your cock?" You bluntly respond. Your hands finding his belt and soon began to undo it. Getting to his zipper as you never break eye contact.

He nods, "yeah.. I think I may need you more than you need me." He chuckled a little.

"I dunno about that. Because I need you to get your pants off. Right. Now."

Frederick quickly does what you demand. He even removed his shoes and boxers. He began to unbutton his undershirt. You stop him by cupping his face. Clashing your lips with his. These kisses a lot more aggressive and wet. Your lipstick staining his lips now. Both of you lightly moaning against one another's mouth. You break away, letting out soft pants. Before leaning down and finding his belt. "Lay down..baby." You watch as he does exactly what you say. Soon getting on the bed with him. You gesture for him to move his arms up. Within a few moments. You had his wrists tied up against the headboard with the belt.

"Wow..aren't you kinky." Frederick smirked.

"Well..you are really cute when I get to dominate you." You laugh softly.

"Cute? I wasn't really looking for that compliment.." he pouted.

You take out a condom as he whines about being called cute. "Don't be a baby." You move down and open up his shirt. Kissing down his stomach. As he tugs against the restraint. "Is this dirty talk or are you having fun insul—...ahhh..y/n.." he groaned sharply.

Your mouth warming his cock. Sucking heavily against his girth. Moving your head up and down at a slow pace. Feeling him grow in your mouth. You pull up and suck deep against his tip. Using your hand to stroke the rest. Your tongue teasing the slit. Your hand squeezing as you stroke his length. Popping your mouth off his tip. Your lipstick smeared and some left on his nether-regions.

"Do I taste Delicious?"

"Yeah..you taste so damn good baby."

"Then keep sucking..please."

"Awww.. but I need that cock baby. Inside of me. Don't you want me to fuck you?" You stop stroking him.

He tugged against the belt. "Oh God yes."

Ripping open the packet. Rolling the condom on. You take off your underwear and bra. He watches every movement you make. You get back on top. Sinking on top of his erection. Your lips parting as you moan. Enjoying the sensation of his size stretching her out.

"Oh baby...be rough with me. I want it." He begged in a shakey tone.

"Oh? Is that what you want? Mmm..I'll be rough with ya." You coo.

Placing your hands against his chest. Bouncing at a steady pace, rolling your hips hars against his. He groaned at each thrust you gifted him. You adore watching his face scrunch and contort with pleasure. You begin to grind harder. Causing the bed to creak and shake aggressively. Cussing softly under your breath. You lean up closer to him. Your hands slip up and cup his face. You lock eyes with him. Before you dip in and kiss him sloppily. He eagerly kisses you back. One of your hands brush through his hair. Getting it all messy, just the way you like it.

Both your body's grow moist with sweat. His wrists growing red from tugging against his restraints. "Mmm.. please.. let me touch you. Nnn f-fuck! Please please please..!"

Your body aches from how he begs. "O...nn..o-okay.." you moaned deeply. Still rolling your hips rough against his. Slowly reaching up to undo the belt. Frederick took no time and kissed at your breasts. Since they were near. Once free, he holds you tight. One hand on your back. The other cupping one of your breasts. As the other was sucked on.

You stare down at him with need. The way he gave you such attention. It made you hump him harder. Tightening your walls at each thrust. Practically trying to milk him. "Frederick..! You make me feel so good!!" You cry out.

His lips wrapped around your nipple. Tongue massaging the harden bud. His eyes half-lidded. He releases to get some more air in. "Harder..please. I'm so damn close..!!" He groaned sharply. His hands land on your hips. You want to make him cum. Want to get him to bust. Sitting up straight. You really begin to bounce on him. Letting out louder moans. Somewhat screaming out at each bounce. Everytime his cock was fully inside. It hurt so wonderfully. Like a nice sweat sting of pain. It was just so deep inside, jabbing your cervix.

"Oh f-fuck...nnnn..! I think the condom broke.." you tried slowing down. But Frederick wouldn't let you. His grip tight on your hips. Making you bounce. "I dont care... I need it! Fuck—I know you n...ahhh..n..n..need it!!" He grumbled out. "Cum on it...cum on my bare cock." He begged in a deep sigh.

Your hands land ontop of his. He was right. You needed this just as much as he did. Your cheeks redden as you simply nod in agreement. "Okay..." you whimper. As you start to fuck him rapidly again.

Frederick was addicted. He could feel it all. Feel every inch of your walls. Against his bare shaft and tip. How truly wet you were. How warm and soft you were. He even began thrusting up against your bouncing. Making the friction even better. "Fuck fuck fff..FUCK!" He cried out in blissful pleasure. You crumble at the feel of it. How hot and thick his cum felt.

You stopped bouncing as your climax hits you hard. Your eyes glisten at how good it truly felt. Frederick pulls you in, hugging you tight against him. Hushing you softly as you both finish. Your body's relax and sit still.

"I love you so much...god." Frederick sighed lightly.

"I love you too.." you smile. Snuggled against him. "Please..dont let go." You pur.

"Don't worry about that.. I'll hold you all night." He rubs your bare back. Kissing the top of your head. "As long as I can stay inside you for awhile." He chuckles weakly.

"..mhmm..you can stay inside of me. It feels good." You giggle. Nuzzling the side of his neck. "We should do this more often...not just on our anniversary."