#ahs kit

[ashlinxsloves]

I like my men submissive and breedable (and a little insane but we don't talk about that)

[americanwh0rerstory]

KINKTOBER DAY TWO

Brat Taming - Kit Walker

dom!reader x bratty!kit

SUMMARY: when kit gets a bit too cheeky in front of the kids, you wait till they go to bed to punish him

CONTENT WARNING: edging, oral (f!receiving), orgasm denial, praise

BACKGROUND INFO: you’re kits wife. no grace, no alma, they didn’t exist. it’s just you, kit, and your 2 kids

MDNI. SMUT UNDER CUT. CONSUMPTION IS DONE AT OWN FAULT

all day kit had been teasing you. subtly kneading your asscheeks when he stood behind you whilst you cooked, kissing and biting your neck when the kids weren’t looking, and so much more that you couldn’t even begin to list it all

it only made sense that you made him pay for leaving you dripping wet at the most inconvenient times, which brings us to right now: kit eating you out whilst edging himself as per your wish

his tongue swirled on your clit in teasing circles before using the flat of his tongue to lick a stripe from your entrance to your clit, lapping up your sweet nectar which he craved to taste. his tongue probed your entrance with his nose bumping gently into your clit. his hand furiously stroked his shaft in aggressive movements of pleasure, but stopping every now and then to make sure he didn’t cum; he couldn’t disappoint you now, could he?

soft whimpers and grunts escaped from his lips, the sound causing vibrations to hit your already sensitive cunt which only made you shudder in pleasure. you looked down at kit with half-lidded eyes, seeing his soft brown eyes meet your own with a look of lust on his face

“suga’, please lemme cum” kit mumbled desperately in between licks, his eyes fluttering closed as he concentrated on pleasing you and not accidentally making himself tip over the edge into blissful euphoria. he bucked desperately into his hand whilst using all his self restraint not to cum all over his hand

“mhmh no” you tease in between your desperate and shaky moans of pleasure, each swipe of his tongue left you shaking in pleasure and involuntarily curling your toes in euphoria

he looked up at you with those intense dark eyes, meeting your gaze with a look of desperation plastered on his face. he kept his word though, holding back his orgasm and focusing on bringing you to your 3rd of the night. just the sight of you coming undone could make him cum, so it took all of his self restraint and then some more just so he could follow the one rule you set for him: don’t cum.

your back arched as you came, sending waves of pleasure from your throbbing clit all over your body. the sudden convolutions brought a smile to kit’s face, and he continued to please you, but doing so a little slower until you gained your bearings back.

“youre so pretty when you cum” he murmurs adoringly before lapping up your release, sending a shudder of pleasure down your spine when you felt his tongue make a quick sweep along your slit

“m’ good girl.” he praises, his lips and chin glistening under the dim light of the shared bedroom. he looked up at you with pleading puppy dog eyes, begging to be allowed his own release. “please hun, i won’t tease ya in front of the kids again”

“mmmh no. get back to licking” you say teasingly with a smirk, to which he instantly obeyed and went back to eating your cunt like a starved man.

this was gonna be a long night for kit.

[deadgirl-violet]

He had a cigarette with his number on it

He gave it over to me, "Do you want it?"

I knew it was wrong but I palmed it

I saved it, I waited, I called it

[missuswalker]

𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧 || 𝐤𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♰ summary: your husband, kit, convinces you to stay up with him by promising that you two can sleep in tomorrow morning - KIT SMUT!!!

♰ warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), piv - short bcs i’m still trying to get back into writing + not proofread because i literally cannot

♰ notes: i’d roll over, speak, shake, play dead, sit, and fetch for kit, he’s such an angel (don’t ask why i always put pictures of half-made beds in these, i asked myself the same thing)

“this is great, hun’,” kit compliments, taking another bite of tonight’s dinner. you give him a tired smile, sipping on your glass of water. he quirks an eyebrow, setting his fork down. “you’re quiet tonight. what’s goin’ on in that pretty head,” he asks, his tone playful and light. you breathe out a laugh, shaking your head. “nothing at all, just a long day.”

kit hums in response, standing to take your plate to the sink. when he returns, he takes his place behind you, gentle hands rubbing your arms. “let me take care of you, suga’. wake you up a little,” he mumbles, lips pressed against your shoulder. you shake your head, pushing his face away. “kit, it’s late, we already took too long on dinner, we should get ready for bed. you have work tomorrow and i gotta visit my mother.”

he massages your shoulders, resting his chin on the top of your head. “i’ll call off work. you can go see your ma next week, you know it won’t be any different to her,” he coaxes, persistent to simply just please you. though with a sigh, you can’t help but smile, knowing he won’t be giving up anytime soon. “you are horrible, kit walker. cancel plans with my mother to have sex with you instead?” you tease, turning to look back at him

“sounds like a more-than-fair trade to me,” he responds, pretending to think about it for a moment. you scoff, standing from your seat at the table. “alright, you win.” with a cheeky grin, he’s off, pulling you with him into the bedroom, and shutting the blinds. “i knew you’d cave. you always do.” he had that stupid smirk, the one that you hated and loved all at the same time.

“i do not, you shut your mouth,” you laugh, kicking off your shoes and letting down your hair, setting the endless bobby pins on the bedside table. he wiggles his eyebrows at you, a dorky but endearing action, as he crawls into bed. his lips immediately find that spot on your neck that makes you go weak as if it were second nature to him. “i’ll shut your mouth as long as you open yours,” he jokes, pushing you back into a laying position. “god, kit!” you laugh, rolling your eyes at his words.

“i’m just kiddin’, tonight’s about you.” with that, he slowly unbuttons you blouse, lips trailing down to your collar bone. “i will neva’ get used to how beautiful you are,” he praises, unhooking your bra and sliding the thin straps down your arms. “so, so pretty,” he continues, cupping your tits, now bringing his kisses to the valley of your breasts. his mouth is wrapped around your nipple soon after, a hand finding it’s way under your skirt.

he revels in the whine you give him as his calloused thumb meets your clothed pussy, rubbing slow circles around your clit. “and to think you wanted to go to bed, but here you are, all wet from just a couple of kisses. what do you have to say fo’ yourself, sweetheart?” he teases, removing his hand, and working to get your skirt down your legs, bringing your panties with it. “i need you kit, i do,” you answer, giving him those eyes that he can’t resist.

that was all he needed, his head dipping between your thighs, tongue running through your slick folds. he groans at the taste of you, pushing his already had cock into the mattress. with your head thrown back, you couldn’t see that his eyes remained on your face, though you could feel his stare as you moaned, rolling your hips on his face. his nose brushes your clit, bringing another sweet whine from your lips, almost enough to make him cum his pants.

“you’re driving me insane,” kit says, sitting up and bracing himself with his hands on your knees. he drops his belt and pants to the floor, palming himself through his pre-cum stained briefs. “look what you do to me,” he grunts, grabbing your hand and placing it over his hard-on. “please kit,” you beg, giving him those eyes you know he can’t resist. he decides not to give you anymore trouble, much to your delight, and slides his briefs down to his ankles, kicking them off and wedging himself between your legs.

his painfully hard dick stands against his toned stomach, kit’s hands spreading your legs, gentle as can be. “so, so pretty, all f’me,” he says, lining himself up with your entrance, giving himself a few pumps. when he finally begins to slide in, the both of you moan, kit having to keep your legs open as you squeeze around him. “god, i love you,” he huffs, bottoming out. kit certainly was a bit of a chatterbox during sex, but it was something you liked about him.

“i love you,” you reciprocate, biting down on your lip as you watch his hips slowly start to move, his fingers trailing down your thigh. his pace remains slow, the moment sweet and sensual, the heat between the two of you suffocatingly warm. his grunts are so pretty, though your loud whines outshine them. “you are an angel sent straight from heaven, i swear,” he says, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he brings a finger back down to your clit.

squeezing around him, your eyes roll back, a long string of moans and his name falling out of that pretty mouth of yours, and it’s not long before he buries himself deep within your cunt, filling you up like you were meant to be. once he pulls out, he lays down next to you, pulling you into him and kissing your forehead. “so good to me,” he whispers, pecking your lips.

“i need to shower, kit.”

“just lay here with me for a minute.”

erm, i’ll do better next time 😋

[ikkyfics]

Hello! I'd like to ask if I can request a hurt/comfort oneshot for Kit Walker where the reader is a nun at the asylum (not romantic!)? So... One night, Kit is left hurt so bad after getting into trouble, more than he's ever been before, and reader feels so bad about his suffering this time that it causes her to break the asylum's rules and sneak into his room to care for his bruises and well-being, which is something she's never done before. It's not romantic; it's simply a compassionate nun feeling remorseful for how a patient has been treated in her own workplace. Hope that makes sense, anyway...

Thank you. Hope you have a lovely day xoxo

Oppression

Summary: “That’s not keeping in line. That’s torture.” “It’s Briarcliff,” Kit corrected.

Warnings: sensitive content, violence, abuse, emotional pain, strong language, mental health issues.

A/N: dear, I hope it turned out as you imagined - thank you, and of course, I hope you have a day full of wonderful things <333

Masterlist

The night at Briarcliff carried its own weight. It wasn’t the silence that brought peace, but an unsettling stillness, where even the faintest sounds echoed through the peeling walls. You had learned to live with it since you first arrived at the asylum. The rigid routine, the hallways spotless on the outside but steeped in despair on the inside… All of it had become part of what you accepted as your calling.

But lately, something had been different. The shadows seemed longer, the whispers between patients more charged. And what had once been a job that required patience and faith now felt like a burden you carried alone. It was impossible to ignore what happened to the inmates when no one was looking. You tried to justify it, believing it was your duty to follow the rules and not question. But that justification was becoming harder to sustain.

Especially when it came to Kit Walker.

He wasn’t like the other patients. Some said that Kit was dangerous, that he deserved to be there for the crimes they claimed he had committed. But you saw something else. Kit was human. And that was exactly what seemed to disturb the people in charge of his “rehabilitation.” It wasn’t his fault he kept resisting, refusing to be crushed by the machine that was Briarcliff.

And perhaps that was why he suffered so much.

When you heard the muffled screams in the male wing that night, something inside you broke. You had seen the aftermath before – bruises scattered across bodies, eyes hollow from exhaustion and pain. But never the perpetrators. They were like ghosts who haunted the hallways, leaving only marks as proof of their presence. This time, however, the sound lingered in your mind, stubbornly echoing long after the silence had returned.

You stayed in your room for hours, fighting against the burning impulse in your chest. Sister Jude’s words hammered in your mind: “The inmates need discipline, not pity. If you start getting involved, you’ll lose everything that holds us together here.” She said it with conviction, with strength. But you were beginning to realize that perhaps it was fear that gave weight to those words.

You shouldn’t be out of your room at this hour. If someone caught you… No, better not to think about that. Still, your feet seemed to move on their own, guiding you down the hallways to Kit’s door.

You opened the door slowly, the sound of the hinges ringing loud in the silence of the wing. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands crossed over his knees, staring at the floor as if it were the only solid thing in the world. Even in the dim light, you could see the damage: Kit’s face was marked with fresh bruises, his left eye starting to swell, and there was a long cut on his eyebrow that hadn’t fully clotted yet.

He looked up when he sensed your presence, the confusion flickering across his face before dissolving into something more tired. “What are you doing here?”

“Shhh. Don’t speak too loud.” You closed the door behind you, the feeling of being watched burning at the back of your neck.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. Even so, there was something almost playful in his expression. “You’re gonna get yourself in trouble, sister.”

“Don’t call me that,” you replied, unable to hide the irritation in your tone. The truth was that the title felt empty now. The weight of your actions – or rather, the lack of them – seemed to grow heavier with each passing day. “I just… I needed to see how you’re doing.”

“Well, now you’ve seen.” He tried to smile, but gave up when the pain made his lips tremble. “It’s not that bad.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

You pulled up a chair and sat facing him, taking the first aid kit you had smuggled beneath your robe. Kit watched in silence as you prepared what you needed. He didn’t resist when you started cleaning the cut, but the slight shiver he tried to hide made your heart ache.

“This should never have happened,” you murmured, your voice a thread of regret.

“It’s nothing new.” Kit shrugged, but the movement was followed by a grimace of pain. “They have a way of… keeping us in line, you know?”

“That’s not keeping in line. That’s torture.”

“It’s Briarcliff,” he corrected.

You had no answer to that. The silence that followed was heavy, interrupted only by the sound of the cotton soaking up the blood and the rustling of the bandage against his skin.

“Why are you doing this?” Kit asked, finally.

You stopped, the damp cloth still in your hand. “I… I don’t know.”

“Of course, you know,” he shot back, his eyes locking onto yours. “You felt guilty. You didn’t want Father or Sister Jude seeing you ignore what happened to me. But this… this is more than you should be doing, isn’t it?”

You felt your face flush, but you couldn’t deny it. He was right. Every step you’d taken up to this point was against everything Briarcliff stood for. Against what was supposed to be your role there.

“You don’t understand,” you began, but he interrupted.

“Maybe not. But neither do you. You don’t survive here being who you want to be. You survive being who they let you be.”

Kit’s words hung between you like a raw truth, something you couldn’t contest, no matter how much you wanted to. He didn’t speak with bitterness or malice, but with the hardness of someone who had already accepted what you were still struggling to acknowledge.

You felt the air trapped in your chest as you watched him. His shoulders were tense, and the gleam in his eyes, even under the swelling, belonged to someone who refused to be completely broken. How did he still hold on to this after everything?

“This shouldn’t be like this,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

“But it is,” Kit replied, with a simplicity that almost made you cry.

You looked away, focusing on the materials in front of you. You held the bandage firmly, but your hands were trembling. As you gently pressed the cloth against the cut above his eyebrow, you heard the soft sound of his breathing. It was rhythmic, controlled, as though he was trying not to react to the pain.

“I need to clean this before it gets infected,” you murmured, not looking at him.

“Do what you have to do, sister,” he replied, his tone lighter than you expected.

Though the words were simple, they carried weight. It wasn’t just about cleaning the wound or easing the physical pain – it was what it meant. A violation of Briarcliff’s rules. More than that, a step toward acknowledging that something was terribly wrong with the place you had sworn to serve.

As you moved the damp cotton over his bruised skin, each mark seemed to scream the story of how it had been caused. The clenched fists of an impatient guard. A forced fall to the ground. The complicit silence of empty hallways. You wanted to say something, but no words seemed fitting.

“You don’t have to do this,” Kit said after a while, breaking the silence.

“But I do,” you replied, more firmly than you expected. Finally, you looked at him, your eyes meeting his. “Because if I don’t… who will?”

He didn’t answer. He just stayed there, letting you continue your work in silence.

With every small gesture – cleaning the dried blood, applying the ointment, securing the bandage – you felt a mixture of guilt and relief. Guilt for not having done this sooner, for ignoring so many things for so long. Relief because, at least this time, you were trying to make it right, even if it was only for one person.

But the conflict in your heart was bigger than Kit. You knew that. The voices of the other inmates echoed in your mind, cries of anguish, muffled pleas, stories that were never heard. How many times had you walked those hallways, pretending not to hear? How many times had you justified to yourself that it was out of your control?

As you wrapped the bandage around his wrist, where a purple bruise almost circled his skin like a bracelet, you felt bile rise in your throat. “I wish I could do more,” you said, almost without realizing.

Kit chuckled softly, but there was no humor in his laugh. “This is already more than most would do.”

“This isn’t enough.” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

You wanted to say more. You wanted to scream about how everything seemed wrong – about how Briarcliff wasn’t a place of healing, but a purgatory where souls were crushed bit by bit. You wanted to confess how, night after night, you asked yourself if your vows meant anything when they served a system like this.

“So why are you here?” Kit asked, echoing the question he had asked before.

You paused. He didn’t speak with judgment, but the question still hit you hard.

“I… I thought I was doing the right thing,” you admitted, finally. The words were hesitant, but true. “I thought I could help people. That I could be… good enough to make up for what no one else did.”

“And now?”

Now. That word seemed enormous. It carried the weight of all the days you had closed your eyes to what was happening at Briarcliff, the times you had convinced yourself that it was all okay.

“Now, I don’t know,” you confessed, your voice breaking.

Kit watched you for a moment, and there was something in his eyes that seemed different. It wasn’t pity, nor hope, but understanding. He knew what it was like to fight against a system bigger than you, to feel powerless but unable to give up completely.

You finished tending to his wounds in silence, your hands moving automatically as your mind spun with thoughts you couldn’t organize. When you finally put away the supplies, you looked at Kit one last time.

“Promise me you’ll rest,” you asked, even knowing it was a futile request.

He tilted his head, a ghost of a smile touching his bruised lips. “I promise.”

You didn’t believe him, but you nodded.

As you walked back to your room, the silence of Briarcliff seemed more oppressive than ever. But something inside you had changed.

That night was just the beginning.

[nobitchs-world]

When y/n gets too annoying to the point you want to stop reading

[evanchantingpeters]

All my feminism goes out the window when I lay eyes on this man... Uff😬

[etoile-star]

Why make them hot if their a killer?? Why make then be morally grey if their gonna be boyfriend shapped?

[wh0re43van]

“I need him biblically,,, I need him in a way that is concerning to feminism.”

Currently rewatching asylum for the first time since it aired. Evan really put his whole evussy into this role stg 🙏🏻

[violet-harmon2011]

to my favorite serial killer, clown, cult leader, hairstylist, vampire, playwright, actor, hotel owner, lobster man, circus performer, zombie, frat boy, and mechanic <3

[nahoyasboyfriend]

Helping hand

Warnings: shameless smut, handjob, unprotected sex, rough sex.

Word count: 2.4k

Tagging: @doll3tt33 @fear-is-truth @coentinim

A/N: this is literally pure filth. I'm not sure what possessed me to write this, but I did. Sorry for any typos or bad writing.

Staying up late with Kyle had become sort of a routine. Sleeping didn't always come easy to you, and getting Kyle to bed without you was always a struggle. Sitting with your legs crossed on the bed, you ponder over what you should do. It couldn't be too loud and it had to be something you were certain he'd enjoy. You glance at him for a moment, he was laying down on the floor watching something on his ipad, so he was occupied for now.

You grabbed your laptop, blankly staring at the screen while you skimmed over your options. Then it hit you— a movie! You could put on a movie. After five minutes of scrolling, you decide to put on a cheesy comedy. you were more of a horror movie enjoyer, but you figured Kyle wouldn't like it. He was a sensitive boy, now more than ever, and you didn't want to stress him out. Especially after the whole being brought back to life ordeal.

"Kyle, honey, come here," you gently call out, placing the laptop on the edge of the bed so you could lay down. You could hear the creak of the floorboards as he slowly ambled to you. He laid down next to you, throwing his arm over you to pull you closer. Stuck in his hold, your hand slapped around until you found the edge of the covers, slinging it over the two of you. You settled in, squirming around until you were comfortable, and then you pressed play.

The plan had been to watch the movie, and then head to bed, but that was ruined when not even ten minutes in he kept shifting. “Ky, what's wrong?” You whisper, tearing your eyes away from the screen to look at him. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth and his eyebrows knit together in discomfort. “H-hurts,” he murmured. You sat up, gently removing the cover from the two of you. “Where does it hurt, kyle?”

He propped himself up until he was sitting on his knees. Confused, you watched silently wondering what he was trying to show you. Maybe he had scraped his leg, or he had a bruise. His lack of motor skills was a major downside of being frankensteined back together. "Here," he grunted, looking down at his pants. You followed his gaze until you were meant with the obvious bulge in his pants. Oh.

Unsure of what to do, you just sat there. Shit. Should you help him? Would helping him be the right thing to do? Seemingly annoyed at your lack of response, he took your hand placing it over his groin. He whined at the desperately needed contact, rolling his hips. "Touch, p-please."

This quickly snaps you out of your thoughts, it’s hard to worry about the consequences when he’s so needy. "Are you sure?" You ask, just to check, accidentally pushing his boundaries was never something you wanted to do. He nods, and you start to unzip his pants. Despite the initial struggle, you're finally able to get his pants down, revealing the blue boxers he had on underneath. His precum stains the fabric, making a sizable dark patch.

"Poor boy, you must be so worked up" you coo, running a finger over the length of it. Kyle's pupils swallow the already deep brown of his eyes as he watches you. Meeting his intense gaze is enough to make you look down again, goosebumps pricking at your skin.

With more zeal than before, your fingers hook the band of his boxers, slowly pulling them down. His cock bounces free, hitting his stomach, and you have to stare for a moment. The tip is flushed pink and precum drips from the slit like a broken faucet. Your eyes slowly trail up his body, from his stomach, to the scar wrapped around his neck, till you're finally looking him in the face. His cheeks are ruddy, his lips parted ever so slightly, and he has this look in his eyes like nothing matters but you at the moment. Maintaining eye contact, you gingerly wrap your fingers around it.

He lets out an airy sigh, that you assume is of relief. You carefully start to move your hand up and down. You watch his eyes slowly flutter shut, and revel in the way pathetic whines begin to fall out of his mouth. To ease the friction, you let a glob of spit dribble onto the tip, using your hand to coat his entire length in your drool. His cock twitches in your hand. He must be close, you think. You work your hand faster, trying to push him to the edge as quickly as you can, but suddenly he's pulling your hand away, shaking his head.

"n-need you," he mewls, finger latching onto the band your shorts trying to tug them down. Throwing all caution to the wind, you oblige. You yank down your shorts and panties, throwing them on the floor. You crawl to him, tossing your legs over his thighs to straddle his lap. His hands fly to your hips, rucking up your oversized shirt to reveal your chest. He stares at you with wide, pleading eyes, silently begging for permission. Once you give a quiet go ahead, he’s instantly taking your nipple into his mouth. It's an odd sensation. His tongue is cool against your warm skin.

You let out a soft whine, and lift a hand to cradle the back of his head. You card your fingers through his hair, while you mutter soft praises, gently rocking yourself against his aching cock, but not letting it slip inside. His arms were wrapped around your middle, pulling you closer to him, like he wanted to be in your skin. You both stay like this for a while, soaking each other in. While it wasn't enough to get you off, you decided that was fine, and instead focused on getting him off. You were trying to make him feel good after all. You could help yourself later.

You were sure he could have came like this, and he seemed to realize that too because he reluctantly wrenched himself away from mouthing at your boob to line his aching cock with your slit. But he was clueless and couldn't quite get it so with a loving smile, you gently took his hand in yours and directed it to where it needed to go.

You slowly sink onto his cock, taking him inch by inch. You got about halfway before you decided to take a second and let yourself adjust to the size. Placing his hands on your hips, he forced you down. You let a startled gasp because of the abrupt fullness. The stretch burns, and he doesn't let you adjust before he begins to buck up into you.

You rest your hands on his shoulders for support, slightly digging your nails in to deal with the ache. You can barely gain your bearings with the way he forces you to bounce on his cock. The pain slowly melts into syrupy sweet pleasure, and everything quickly becomes overwhelming. The sound of his skin on yours, the feeling of his cold tongue on your skin, and the pangs of pleasure shooting through you.

You crash your mouths together because even if you don't want to admit it. You're just as attached to him as he is to you, and the urge to get closer than you already were was becoming unbearable. This kiss is awkward, but you can't bring yourself to mind. Your teeth clack together and your noses keep bumping. His tongue curiously prods into your mouth. Still, you melt into him, letting him explore every inch of you for as long as he'd like. His spit tastes earthy, and surprisingly it isn't that bad. You pull away to breathe, and he follows, pitifully chasing after you like a lost puppy.

His powerful thrusts have devolved into quick, shallow bunny humps, so you take it upon yourself to finish what he started. You place your hands on his chest lightly pushing him back. He doesn't resist, letting himself fall onto his elbows. He looks confused, kiss-swollen lips pulled into the cutest pout. It makes you want to smooch it off of his face. You lift yourself up, and it seems like you're about to pull off, but before his hands could rush back to your hips, you slam back down down.

The sound he lets out is guttural and loud. Your hand slaps over his mouth. He blinks, puzzled. You pull your hand away to press a finger against your lips. “Be quiet, they'll hear us,” you whisper, glancing behind you to make sure nobody is at the door. In the blink of an eye, you're not on top of him anymore. You are on your back now. Stunned, you stare vacantly at the ceiling. His hands grip your hips, sheathing himself back into the warmth of your cunt (when did he learn how to do that without you?)

He starts up that unforgiving pace again, ramming into you so hard the bed is wobbling beneath you. All you can do is take it. Silently praying that your bed will make it through the night. He effortlessly brushes that spongy spot inside of that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. you're quivering beneath him, unraveling like a ball of yarn in his hands. Pleasure sweeping any coherent thoughts away like a hurricane. That familiar ache builds in your stomach. Your cunt clenches around him, begging for release. Everything feels so good, it verges on painful. Your hands latch onto the sheets, holding on for dear life.

Kyle leans down to press wet, slimey kisses on your clavicle, lightly dragging his teeth against your skin. A few more brutal thrusts, and you're digging your nails into his back, softly whining. Your orgasm crashes over you like a current. You bite your lip to muffle the moans that threaten to come out, blinking away unshed tears. After your orgasm subsides, you're instantly being ushered into another one. “s too much, ky, I can't take another,” you hiccup, pressing a hand against Kyle's chest in a feeble attempt at pushing him off. You don't know if he just brushes you off on purpose, or if he did it without realizing because in spite of your pitiful request. His pace sped up.

He's grunting in your ear now, you can feel the hot puffs of air tickling your cheek. Plump tears roll down your face, your body trembling uncontrollably. He cums deep inside you, a blossom of warmth filling you up, but he doesn't stop rutting into you. Fucking it in further. You let out woeful, little squeaks. You're sniveling, and your poor, aching cunt weeps. You feel your second release rushing towards you, and all you can do is brace yourself. He's fucking you like he despises you, and if you didn't know anymore you would have been convinced you were his sworn enemy with the way he was bullying your cunt.

Your orgasm hits you like a strike to gut, somehow more intense than the last. Your back arches off the bed so far that someone might think you're possessed. The bitter taste of iron pervades your mouth. You didn't realize how hard you'd bitten your lip trying to be quiet. (Which is turning out to be an impossible feat, but at least you're trying.) you're gushing around him. Your arousal spills down onto the bed beneath you. You can feel the sheets sticking to your skin, and you remind yourself to lay down a towel or something next time. A few more agonizing seconds pass, and he's finally pulling out of you.

He collapses on top of you, and you take a moment to collect yourself. The icky feeling of laying in a pool of bodily fluids is the only reason you haven't passed out yet.

“Kyle, we gotta get up and take a shower,” you mumble, your body aches and your bones feel like jelly, but you can't go to sleep in these conditions.

He grumbles for a second. “sleep.”

you sigh, “i know, but we're all dirty now. We gotta clean up.” begrudgingly, he peels himself off of you. You get up rather slowly because of how unsteady you were on your feet. You snatch some clothes up for you and Kyle. You haul yourself to the bathroom, dragging Kyle behind you. You turned on the shower, letting the water run until it was warm enough to get in. “C’mon in,” you utter, stepping into the tub. You watch Kyle sluggishly walk to you. He looked so tired. Poor baby.

“Do you want me to help you bathe?” you inquire, quietly. He doesn't respond, just follows you in. He can barely keep his eyes open. You decide it's easier to just wash him instead of trying to wake him up. You grab a washcloth, apply some body wash, and massage it in till it lathers up. You start with his arms, and you can't help but follow all the veins as you travel your way up. Then you moved on to his chest. You could feel the bumps from where his head was sewn back on, your heart ached for him. He didn't deserve such an untimely death. You frown, shaking away those thoughts. He doesn't need your pity.

The rest goes relatively fast. He listens to your request to lift his legs and turn around, so you could reach his back. You speed through washing yourself, so you can get back to bed as soon as you possibly can. Once you’re done, you hop out and dry yourself off. As usual, you help Kyle dry off too. The two of you shuffle off to bed clean and content. You toss a blanket over your sullied sheets, you'll wash them later.

Collapsing onto the bed, you let out a relieved sigh. Sweet, sweet relaxation. Kyle follows suit, pulling you onto his chest. You grinned, silently enjoying his unending clinginess. “L-love you,” he murmured, and you feel a warmth beginning to bloom in your chest. “I love you too, Kyle,” you whisper. You don't know if he truly understands what he just said to you, but you choose not to think too hard about it. Scooting closer to him, you feel the tiredness hit you all at once. The comfortable arms of sleep luring you in.

[americanwh0rerstory]

her patient, his savior [kit walker]

SUMMARY: when kit gets thrown into briarcliff for a second time, yet again for a crime he didn’t commit, he meets a nurse: Y/N

CONTENT WARNING: violence, briarcliff, mental asylums, angst, platonic relationship but could be romantic depending on your perspective

A/N: the dates might be wrong, but i couldn’t find any explicitly stated dates so i had to use what i could. this does not match up with the ending of the show but it’s an idea that came to me

NO NSFW. PLS ENJOY

being a nurse at briarcliff wasn’t an easy job. you’d deal with the aftermath of the brutal punishments that the sisters would give to the patients. the welts, the burns, you saw the lot of it.

nobody there was anyone you wanted to associate with, it was clear that 9/10 people seemingly deserved to be there. granted you didn’t know most of them, but you read their files and found their backstories. however one person stuck out to you: kit walker.

a charming man who managed to be discharged from briarcliff. he was framed for the bloodyface murders and thrown into the asylum without a second thought. judging by his files he endured a lot. the electrotherapy, the beatings, the hydrotherapy, it was atrocious. he was discharged in 1965 though, so why was this relevant? why were you reading his files in 1971?

kit was back. back for murder. He knew that Alma murdered Grace, but he couldn’t let Alma take the fall for it; he gave himself up to save her, a chivalrous act for his wife.

This same Mr walker had just entered your infirmary looking beaten up. his eye was blackened, bottom lip bloodied, and god knows what else. But kit was your nicest patient, he wasn’t creepy and was polite. he was like a saint in a house of devils.

“sista’, mind fixin’ me up?” he asks in his boston drawl, standing in the doorway waiting for you to give him permission to be seen. he knew he didn’t need to ask, but he still wanted to be polite and keep that sense of humanity in him. his hair was messy, sticking to his forehead a little with the sweat presumably from the fight he got himself into. kit was such a sweet soul, you never believed anyone when they said he was violent.

“of course kit” you beam softly, not wanting to seem overly eager but also not wanting to seem monotonous like everyone else here. it was either monotony or anger, no in between. to kit you were his ray of sunshine in this place, he appreciated having a nice nurse this time round rather than Dr Arden.

“thanks-” he began to say, cutting himself off with a hiss of pain when the antiseptic made contact with some of his grazes and cuts.

“sorry, ‘s just hurtin’ a little” he mumbled, apologising for his reaction to the cool antiseptic wipe you began to run along his battered body.

the two of you made idle chit chat whilst you fixed him up, your eyes meeting his occasionally. he made you laugh with some sort of witty comment/remark he made, and you giggled like a school girl with a crush.

nothing could happen though, he still had alma on the outside. nothing would ever happen… right?

A/N: i’m gonna be real and say i got a bit lazy towards the end and also couldn’t be bothered to make a banner. i’ve got a lot to work on so fics might be slightly lower quality than usual, but i’ll try my best <3

[deadgirl-violet]

[missuswalker]

Hi, can I request an angst for Kit Walker x female reader where they are both patients in Briarcliff and starting to have romantic feelings for each other please? Thank you

𝐢 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 || 𝐤𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♰ summary: you and kit were both unjustly thrown into briarcliff and you’ve bonded over that, maybe more than you should

angst/comfort

♰ warmings: mentions of death

♰ notes: ilhsm he’s so husband 🤭

it was quiet this morning, other patients whispering to each other about something you would ever care to know. “mornin’,” kit sighs, dropping down next to you at the chess table. a few people glance your way, but you pay no mind to it, just scratching at the wooden leg of the table. “you ever gonna actually play this?” he asks, picking up one of the chess pieces, setting it on your arm. your gaze stays fixed on the table’s leg, but you shrug. “no. don’t know how.”

kit sighs, moving the piece back to the board. “you wanna learn? i can teach ya’ how,” kit offers, beginning to move the pieces to their designated squares. “no, thank you,” you mumble. he was quiet from a moment, examining your dull eyes, one’s that are usually happy and hopeful when he’s around. all day you had be thinking about how long you’ve been here. about how you’re not going to get out. they were emotionally draining thoughts, but they were thoughts you had to have at some point.

“what’s your deal,” kit says jokingly, trying to lighten the somber mood. upon your lack of response, thoughts of his own settle into his mind. did you finally fall for the other patients’ bullshit about him being a murderer? he frowns, stiffening in his seat. you were the one person he didn’t want to believe this. he stopped caring about the others a long time ago. “y’know you can tell me what’s on your mind,” he continues, not wanting to give you up, his one real friend in this place.

your silence does not waver, the only change being the force of your nails being pushed into the already-chipped wood of the table leg. kit simply stands, walking away. he tried to convince himself that he didn’t want to be around you, anyways. taking one last look at you, he sees that your face was now buried in your arms, hidden from his view. as much as he wanted to come rub your back, get you to look at him, he believed that it wasn’t what you’d want, that you never wanted to see him again. he had truly convinced himself that you thought he was a killer.

as soon as he left, though, you were silently begging him to stay. you didn’t want to talk, you just wanted to be near him, take comfort in his presence. you really, really liked kit. he was the little bit of good in all this bad that had kept you going for so long. his stupid dad jokes were all it took to get you to smile, and you were beginning to realize that no one but you could ever laugh at something like that. when his smile was all you could think about, you knew you wanted more from him than just a friendship.

♰

you had kitchen duties tonight, which you believed to be the worst thing in life. once you enter the kitchen, though, is when your mind changes. “kit,” you grin, obviously feeling a little better than you previously had. you expected a hey or a smile, but, instead, he just ignored you, kneading at the dough in front of him. it’s not like he didn’t hear you, he heard you loud and clear. he could recognize your voice from a mile away. he just didn’t want to talk to you. as odd as it was for him, you accepted it, considering you’d done the same thing earlier. you gave him some space, working on some dough on the opposite side of the counter.

“you won’t even stand by me,” he says, his voice nearly breaking at the end. he couldn’t help but think you were afraid of him. you furrow your brows, moving to the other side of the counter, now right next to him. “christ, just go back to where you were,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “i thought you wanted me to stand here,” you say growing frustrated with kit’s unusual behavior. “you’re only standin’ here because you feel like you have to,” he scoffs, eyes fixed on his hands and the dough.

you frown for what felt like the hundredth time today, rolling your eyes. “i want to stand here,” you defend, getting back to work. after a moment of silence, kit glances at your agitated face. he didn’t like that you didn’t look happy to be with him, that you weren’t going on one of your tangents about a random thing that interested you. “i thought you believed me, y’know. i thought we were friends, or somethin’.”

“what the hell are you talking about, kit,” you huff, glancing at him with a completely confused look. “i know you’re thinkin’ i’m gonna hurt you, ‘cause you let those people tell you i’m a killer,” his says, moving his hands to grip the edge of the countertop. “what? where’d you get that from,” you ask with a sigh, shaking your head. “you wouldn’t even look at me this morning, when you got in here you stood as far away as you possibly could, and everyone’s been whisperin’ all day.”

“i was just havin’ a bad morning, kit, you’re not the only fucking one with problems in your life,” you blurt, regretting what you said immediately, not wanting to hurt his feelings, though you didn’t take it back. he tries to read your expression, the same silence falling over the two of you again. instead of receiving a harsh comeback, you just feel gentle arms snake around your waist. you wanted to fight it, you were trying to be upset with him, but how could you? “i’m sorry, angel, i just got caught up in my own head. you’re right, you have problems too, and i should’ve thought about that.”

turning around to face him, you wrap your own arms around him. why was he so goddamn irresistible? he offers you a sweet smile, hoping to make up for the rocky start to the day. “you wanna talk about anything?” he asks, resting his chin on the top of your head, rubbing your back in slow, comforting motions. this was your kit, the everyday kit that would be effortlessly kind. “i dunno. i was just thinkin’ ‘bout life,” you say, though he could see right through you. “i don’t wanna die in here, kit,” you finally admit, letting your head rest against his chest. “i get it. i know how you feel, but i won’t let you die in here. i’m gonna get you out,” he promises, kissing your temple.

“look at me. i swear i’ll get you out of this place,” he says, lifting your chin. your sad eyes were enough to break his heart, but when you gave him that little smile, he knew it was over for him. he’d been trying hard not to fall for you, your wits and charms, but he had lost that battle a while back. he wanted to kiss you so bad, but he didn’t want to take advantage of your vulnerability. you seemed to have other plans. as you pulled his face down, he hesitated, but ultimately leaned down the rest of the way, connecting your lips. after that, you both knew where your hearts belonged.

once you pull away, he has this big, stupid smile on his face. you laugh at the look, looking down at your feet. “you still got somethin’ on your mind, whatcha’ thinkin’ about,” he asks, smoothing out your hair with his big hand. “nothing, just same thing i was thinking this morning. i wanna get out of here so bad. i want a family, i’ve wanted a little girl since i was a kid,” you ramble, thinking about how nice it would be to have your own house, a dog or a cat, and a baby of your own. kit pretends to think for a moment, before saying, “i think i can make that happen.”

you scoff, smacking his chest with the back of your hand. “you hush,” you laugh, but your laugh quiets as he holds a serious face. it was hard to tell if he was joking or if he meant it, but it looked more and more like the latter ever second that went by. “i think i love you,” he admits, his tone completely serious. “what?” you ask, stuck in that moment of shock. he gives you those brown puppy eyes, bringing your knuckles up to his lips. “i do,” he says, now kissing the open palm of your hand.

“i think i love you too, then.”

pt 2

i love this man so much he can knead my dough

[fear-is-truth]

— ★ . YOUR CAMERA ROLL AS EVAN PETERS’ GIRLFRIEND

 fear-is-truth — do not copy, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[redroses07]

real shit