#american horror story oneshot

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

Insomniac // Tate Langdon

request: not sure if i already requested this butttt could you write tate langdon x reader w insomnia like him js comforting you n holding you in bed as you cry from exhaustion n frustration from not being able to sleep - or som along those lines of reader w insomnia? 💛

prompts: none

summary: no matter what you try, you just can't seem to fall asleep. your boyfriend, tate, tries his best to comfort you.

warnings: not proofread

word count: 512

a/n: i know this is shorter than what i usually write, but i've had some difficulty with motivation so i figured that i would at least try! i'm gonna do my best to write more. even though they might not be as long, i promise i will still put the same amount of effort it!

You groan in frustration as you roll onto your back, staring at the dark ceiling above you. It’s been hours of tossing and turning, hoping that you would eventually drift off to sleep. But the peaceful release of rest and dreams never came. It never does. Night after night you’d lie awake, wishing and praying to fall asleep for even a few minutes. Waiting and waiting for relief from this utter exhaustion that never seemed to come. 

Sometimes you were lucky, passing out from exhaustion after trying to fall asleep. You’d wake up in the morning still tired, but at least still able to function. However, with the way things were going tonight, it didn’t look like you were going to fall asleep anytime soon. You were completely drained, needing nothing more than a few hours of sleep. But despite how tired you were, you remained wide awake. And it just made you even more upset.

You sat up, reaching behind you to grab your pillow. Burying your face in it, you let out a frustrated scream. Before you realized it, tears were falling from your eyes. You clutched your pillow to your chest, sobbing in utter frustration and misery. Why were you like this? Why couldn’t you just fall asleep like everyone else did? Why did life feel the need to torture you so?

“Hey, what’s wrong? Why’re you crying?” a gentle voice from beside you said.

You didn’t even need to lift your head to know it was your boyfriend, Tate. You felt the bed dip beside you, a pair of comforting arms wrapping around you. He pulled the pillow out of your grip and you leaned against his chest, holding him tightly.

“Can’t sleep,” your voice muffled from your face being buried in his chest.

He frowned slightly, his hand rubbing your back softly. “Again? I’m sorry baby.”

You cried into his chest, all your pent up emotions spilling out. Tate didn’t mind. He didn’t say anything while you sobbed, just continuing to hold you as you let everything out. Your hands gripped the fabric of his sweater tightly, trying to ground yourself to him.

“Why am I like this? Why can’t I just fall asleep? It’s so easy for everyone else,” you whispered, voice shaking from your tears. 

“I don’t know, baby. I just wish I knew how to help you. It hurts me to see you suffer like this,” he replied, still holding you against him.

“You are helping, Tate. Just you being here helps. It makes me feel better. You make me feel better.”

He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. The two of you sat there in silence, just savoring each other's embrace. Soon, your grip on him loosened and your eyes grew heavy. Tate smiled down at you lovingly. He leaned back, laying down on your bed, pulling you down to rest on his chest, being careful to not move you too much.

Soft snores started emanating from you as you finally found the blissful release of sleep in your boyfriend’s arms. 

tags: @jamespotterslover @ahsxual @twinkiemaximoff @1800-fuckbitchesgetmoney @thatspookyagent @shadyspears @amourtentiaa @rottenstyx @tates-radio @hallecarey1 @im-verysad @tatesxthumbring @imaloserbabysowhydontyourailme @evilcr0ne @hocksetters @milly-louise @slut4kaiya @larawrrites

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[niteskysx]

(A continuation from my last fic)

Stepbrother! Nicholas Chavez x Reader x Stepbrother! Cooper Koch

Your role in this family was… complicated. When your adoptive parents brought you into the family, they thought giving their boys a little sister would be a wonderful idea. A picture-perfect family, they said.

What they didn’t realize was that their sons were far from perfect.

At first, Nicholas seemed like the kind of older brother anyone would want— charming, protective, and confident. With the exception of some anger issues, of course.

He said he’d help you with boys. He’d give advice, tease you harmlessly, and make you smile. But as the both of you grew older, that teasing shifted into somewhat of a darker nature.

In the teaching and teasing, he would start making these odd requests and try to convince you the best he could.

“I want to try something new with my girlfriend, but I need to make sure I don’t screw it up with her, I- I really love her you know… Can I try it on you first? Just to see how it feels? Just this once?”

You hesitated first, of course, but you were just helping, right? You were family. It was all innocent, wasn’t it? Just a favor for your stepbrother.

The first time you gave in, you told yourself it was harmless. But once that line was crossed, it was like he’d broken a lock.

The requests kept getting bolder and things started escalating into more intense exchanges.

He’d pull you aside, or take you to his room, and say he needed your help again. That it was “important.”That he loved his girlfriend too much to risk losing her.

Nicholas was a person that could get angry very quickly. When things didn’t go his way, he would be frustrated or get mad quick and needed a way to blow off steam fast.

Eventually, he started using you as a stress-reliever.

Whenever Nicholas felt bored, frustrated, or just needed to “relax,” he’d call you into his room. He’d claim it was harmless but he needed your help to blow off steam.

“You wouldn’t want to ruin the only family you have, would you?” He would say.

It’s not like you wanted him to continue with what he was doing— but sometimes, just, sometimes, you found yourself craving it. Craving him. Like a classic horny virgin, just so desperately waiting for the next time he’d teach you something new. You hated yourself for it, for wanting him like this, especially knowing that with each time you allowed him closer, you were indirectly betraying the only family you had ever known. But in those moments, as much as you tried, you couldn’t stop yourself. The minute he touched you, you melted— You couldn’t deny the way you looked forward to him, even as the guilt was suffocating you immensely.

Cooper, on the other hand, played the part of the sweet, caring brother. He didn’t seem to know the full extent of what went down between you and Nicholas, but you could tell he had an idea. He’d glance at you sometimes, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name— concern, guilt, maybe even jealousy. He’d ask if you were okay, with his angelic gentle tone that he has, but his questions only made you more anxious.

Even with Cooper, things didn’t feel entirely “brother-like.” His glances always lingered on you a moment too long, his touch lingering in ways that felt just a bit too intimate, like when his fingers brushed yours at the dinner table when you asked him to pass the bread. And that tension. That unspoken tension between the two of you that rises whenever you are left in a room together, alone.

You felt trapped by the both of them. Mentally, physically, emotionally….

The lines between right and wrong started to blur for you everyday and you couldn’t think right. You just kept sinking deeper and deeper into their control— intentionally or unintentionally.

You found yourself sitting close to Nicholas again— you could feel his fingers trail down your arm, his breath warm against your skin. You wanted to get away, you knew you had to get away, but you couldn’t… It was like he had you under some kind of unspoken spell that couldn’t be broken. He was leaning in, looking at your lips, about to do what you think he was about to do when—

The door flew open.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

“Hey—oh,” Cooper’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. He froze in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable.

Nick jerked back, his jaw clenching as he turned to glare at his younger brother. “What the hell are you doing?”

Cooper blinked, recovering quickly. “I was going to ask her if she wanted to watch a movie,” he said, his tone calm but his eyes flickering between the two of you. “But I can see I interrupted something.”

“You think?” Nick snapped.

Your heart was racing a million miles an hour. “I—I was just heading to bed,” you stammered, trying to escape the situation.

Cooper didn’t budge from the doorway, he just kept glaring, eyes locked on Nick’s. “Maybe you should give her some space, Nicholas. You know, let her breathe for once.”

You didn’t expect Cooper to say that. At all.

You could feel how mad Nick was getting. This wasn’t good.

“Stay out of it, Coop. This doesn’t concern you.”

“It does when you’re acting like a—” Cooper stopped himself, glancing at your innocent face before finishing. “Just… back off, okay?”

Nick took a step toward his brother.. “You don’t tell me what to do. Got it?”

“Someone has to,” Cooper shot back, his calm demeanor cracking. “She’s not your plaything, Nicholas.”

What was happening wasn’t good and you needed to figure out a way to stop this before things escalated. You quickly stepped between them before things could escalate.

“Stop it—both of you,” you said, your voice shaking but firm. “I don’t want any of this. I’m going to my room.”

You rushed out of there as soon as possible. You couldn’t take whatever “this” was. It was just too much for you to handle.

Nick watched you leave as you left his room, turning from frustrated to something softer. Sadder. But only for a brief moment before hardening his expression to bitter ‘ol Nicholas again. “Fine. Whatever,” he muttered, dropping into the chair beside his bed.

He shot a glance at Cooper, waving him off lazily.

“You can go now, too.”

Cooper gave Nick one last angry glance before he turned to leave.

As he stepped into the hallway, he could see that your door was slightly open and he peeked through that little space to see you sitting on the edge of your bed, holding yourself.

Hesitant at first, but he knocks lightly on your door and steps inside. “Hey,” he said, his voice gentler than ever. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your hands were still trembling. “I’m fine. Thanks for… everything.”

He gave you a small smile. “Someone has to look out for you.”

Before you could respond, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “If you ever need anything, just… let me know, okay?”

You nodded again, not adding anything else. He turned and quietly closed the door behind him.

When you were left alone with your thoughts, you were trying to process everything that just happened. What did just happen? In fact, what HAS been happening? I mean— this is not like you at all! You’re a good girl, like mom and dad say. You have always been a good girl… Kissing your step brother? Nicholas—? Seriously? The boy who gets off on torturing and teasing his stepsister? He doesn’t even really like you! He just uses you— why are you STILL letting him get close to you like that and then let him treat you like trash the rest of the time? And what was that fight? Over YOU? No way. This all feels like a very, VERY bad dream that you need to wake up from.

You sighed and collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands.

Just sleep it off… just… sleep… it�� off.

Things will be normal tomorrow…. Right?

For @blackynsupremacy 🙊💋

[american-horror-whore]

𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐊𝐚𝐢 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

paring:Cult Leader!Kai Anderson x Fem!Reader

cw: Nsfw, smut with no plot, cnc (established prior to the fic), dead dove do not eat, bondage, fisting, anal (kinktober week two)

“I told you that you’d be in trouble. Dinner wasn’t on the fucking table when I got home!!” Kai shouted as he grabbed at your jaw roughly, his grip so tight that your head shook slightly. Hot beads of tears streamed down your cheeks as you bit down on the ball gag which was currently lodged between your lips.

You tugged your wrists that were tied to the arms of a chair that Kai had pushed you into. Another night of missed commands means another punishment. This time, he’d tied you to a chair fully naked, shoving a ball gag into your mouth.

“You are nothing, got it? You’re 3 holes that are here to cook, clean, and take dick,” Kai spat, grabbing your breasts. His calloused fingers tugged at your nipples, making tears flow faster from your eyes. You inhaled sharply, squeezing your eyes shut in a vain attempt to make that discomfort of Kai’s fingers go away. You pitifully tried to squirm away, only to be held down by your bonds. But, God, how you loved it.

Kai knelt down in front of you, holding your legs open. You squealed around your gag, trying helplessly to hold your legs together. Kai planted a firm smack to your thigh, successfully holding your legs apart. With his free hand, he started by pushing a singular digit into your cunt, bending his finger to massage your walls. Your eyes rolled back sharply, your head bobbing. He let out a sharp scoff, quickly forcing in a second finger.

He didn’t let up as he felt your squirms and struggles, listened to your pitiful screams and unintelligible pleas for him to stop, that it was too much. All Kai did was smile darkly, his eyes gleaming with sadism. You whimpered loudly into the gag that filled your mouth, feeling your body practically splitting in two as he pushed in a third finger, a fourth, and then his whole fist.

“How’s that feel, huh?” Kai asked gruffly, letting out a scoff, pumping his fist in and out, harder and harder. You scream into your gag, the ball still slightly stifling your cries. He pulled his fist out with a vulgar “pop”, probably the loudest one you’ve ever heard.

You let out an exhale of relief, feeling Kai untie you. You thought it was over, that the pleading was over, the begging for him to stop. You thought it was all over. That was, until he bent you over the bed.

Kai held your wrists together with one hand, pressing them against the small of your back. He undid his belt, shoving his jeans down to pool at his ankles, along with his boxers. Kai let out a short laugh, tying your wrists together with his belt. A small whimper escapes from around the gag, probably going in one ear and out the other when it came to Kai. He lined his tip up with your hole, the only one that hadn’t been stretched yet.

Now you were panicking, your breaths short and heard. It’s not that you didn’t enjoy the sex. Sex with God? That’s the ultimate gift. It was how rough he was. A scream practically emitted from your throat the moment he thrusted in. He wouldn’t ever understand how bad that hurt, considering how big he was.

“Shh,” Kai hissed, thrusting his hips roughly forward. You let out a sharp, muffled cry, your eyes rolling back into your head.

Kai continued at a relentless pace, not ever giving you a second to adjust, not giving you a second to get past the initial discomfort of your first time receiving anal. He didn’t stop until he came inside of you, and you swore that you could feel it filling you up, overflowing your senses.

You let out an exasperated whimper, feeling him flip you onto your back before laying you on your back. Kai’s fingers gripped your jaw, squishing your lips, which forced the ball out of your mouth as he unclipped the gag from the back of your head. His voice dropped to a whisper as his lips got close to your ear.

“Obedience is key, got it? Only with obedience will you receive true salvation..”

taglist: @fear-is-truth @dangeroustaintedflawed @newwavesylviaplath @coentinim @lacucarachapisser @evansonlylove @dearlizzies @oceanblvd111 @foreverviolets @emmasshitblog @jazz-berry @xrag-dollx @taintandviolent @colinzabelswife @marchsfreakshow @evanpeterspeter @whosbloom @redroses07 @lemoniiiiiii @partypoisxn @evanpetersbf @ultraviolamb @jdnymos

[ahqkas]

♯ GOD KNOWS I TRIED ; kit walker

PAIRING! kit walker x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! kit is a true gentleman at heart, and he does what kind men do : he protects the ones he cares about ( based on this req.!! )

WORD COUNT! 4.1k

WARNINGS / TAGS! angst, fluff if you squint hard enough, mature / suggestive themes, briarcliff asylum warnings, sister jude and her punishments + lmk of more if found

NOTES! my man my man my man . all the credits to the devider bellow belong to @/v6que !!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE RAIN FELL IN RELENTLESS CASCADE, DRUMMING AGAINST THE GLASS WINDOWS OF BRIARCLIFF ASYLUM. The night was clothed in darkness and the only source of provided light was the occasional flash of lightning that illuminated the gothic architecture of the asylum. The heavy rain had changed the surrounding landscape into a dark blur. The expansive green lawn, overgrown and wild, seemed like it came out of a horror story with its ghostly flashes, revealing the twisted forms of ancient trees and the labyrinthine tangle of bushes. The wrought iron gates, their ornate designs now almost swallowed by the storm, groaned softly as they were tossed around by the wind. 

Inside, the atmosphere was equally grim. The asylum's corridors, long and narrow, were bathed in a dim, flickering light from the aging fluorescent fixtures that barely pierced the gloom. Each flash of lightning revealed glimpses of the asylum's interior: the scattered, old furniture, the barred windows, and the heavy, locked doors. The harsh light highlighted the grim details of the inside — rusting fixtures, peeling paint, and the long shadows cast by the iron bars on the windows. 

The nuns had decided to host one of the famous movie nights. It was a tradition they upheld during every stormy night in an attempt to calm down the residents who would become agitated by the loudness that came with the storm. 

The main common room had been transformed for the occasion. The dim, oppressive lighting was softened by the warm, flickering glow of a makeshift projector setup, casting a gentle, almost nostalgic light across the room. The walls, lined with faded, institutional artwork and peeling paint, were obscured by heavy, tattered curtains that had been drawn over the windows to shield the patients' wandering eyes from the storm's fury outside. The dusty curtains hung in uneven folds. The nuns had also arranged a selection of worn, overstuffed chairs and mismatched couches in a semi-circle around the small projector that sat on a makeshift table. The screen was a large, slightly yellowed sheet stretched taut across a wooden frame and its surface bore the scars of countless previous showings. 

You sat on one of the overstuffed couches positioned in the back row of the common room, your figure partially hidden by the shadows cast by the dim light of the projector. The couch you occupied was a faded, floral-patterned relic, its cushions soft and sagging from years of use. The upholstery, once vibrant, had long since dulled to a muted palette, its once-bright colors now blended into the overall gloom of the room. Everything was dull here in Briarcliff. Your posture was relaxed because of the warmth the man beside you provided. 

Kit Walker, a kind man once you got to know him, was the sanest person in the whole building besides yourself and you were glad to form an alliance with him. Although, there were feelings nestled deep inside you, ones you didn't have to say out loud for him to see and feel. That man had a strong jawline and high cheekbones that gave him a chiseled, almost heroic appearance and that alone gave your knees the right amount of shake to fall for him. You found out he had a natural ability to really listen and offer comfort and he carried himself with a quiet dignity, not seeking validation or praise but simply remaining true to himself despite the circumstances. 

Kit Walker was the man of your dreams.

The screen was currently displaying an old, black-and-white film, its grainy images flickering in sync with the erratic flashes of lightning outside but you couldn't force yourself to pay any amount of attention to the supposed entertainment. The film's dramatic scenes, with their exaggerated gestures and artificial emotions, seemed almost absurd compared to the thoughts that were dedicated to the man sitting next to you. 

And the same could be said about Kit. The way the occasional light from the projector cast soft highlights across your features, emphasizing the curve of your cheek and the depth of your eyes, made you seem almost ethereal and Kit was losing it. None of the workers could force him to sit on the moldy couch and torture himself with boredom when you sat quietly beside him, distracting him with just simply being there. 

He noticed your subtle, distracted glances toward the screen, but your eyes lingered more on him than on the film.  Kit could feel the way your eyes followed the play of light and shadow across his face, how you seemed to be drawn to the warmth he provided rather than the outdated drama on the screen. He found himself smiling softly to himself at your distraction with a knowing look in his eyes. You wanted him as badly as he wanted you. 

Leaning slightly closer to your body, Kit's voice was low and warm as it hit the side of your face, barely above a whisper to avoid breaking the fragile atmosphere that had settled around the two of you. "You know," he began and a hint of playful amusement appeared in his tone, "we don't really have to stay here if we're not into the movie." 

"What do you mean?" you asked in the same tone as him, your voice a gentle murmur that barely competed with the distant hum of the projector. When you exhaled, the warm air hit Kit's face. 

Kit's honey-brown irises shimmered in the darkness, and he subtly nodded toward the exit of the dimly lit room, where the storm outside was barely audible against the noise of the film. "I was thinking . . . maybe we could sneak away, find a quieter spot where we can actually do whatever we want. What do you think?"

The suggestion was simple, yet it carried the promise of a more intimate and personal escape from the boredom of the asylum's common room. The thought of stepping away from the dreary atmosphere was an enticing one. Yet, the fear of feeling Sister Jude's sick pleasure held you back. Sister Jude, with her sharp eyes and ever sharper tongue, seemed to delight in catching the patients of the asylum in any moment of weakness or rebellion. Her authority was absolute, an iron hand that loomed over every corner of Briarcliff, and the idea of stepping out of line — even for a brief moment — carried a weighty sense of risk. You could already imagine the way Sister Jude's eyes would narrow in satisfaction, her lips curling into that smug, almost sadistic smile she reserved for moments when she exerted her control. 

You still remember what she did to Grace. What she did to Lana. 

And yet, the allure of escaping with Kit, even just for a little while, was difficult to resist. 

"I don't know, Kit," you whispered in a trembling voice as you voiced your worries to him. "What if we get caught? You know how Sister Jude is. She'd make an example out of us, and I — I don't think I could handle that. I don't want to give her the satisfaction."

He could see the fear in your eyes, the way it held you back, and it only made him more determined to protect you. "[Name]," he said gently, his voice low and reassuring, "nothing's going to happen. I promise you that. We'll be careful, okay? And even if something does happen, even if Sister Jude catches us, I'll take the blame. She won't lay a finger on you."

"Kit..." you began but he cut you off with a slight squeeze of your hand. You didn't question when he took hold of your palm. 

"Trust me, [Name]," he murmured, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles repeatedly. "I won't let her touch you. I'll take the heat if it comes to that. But right now, let's just get out of here, even if it's just for a little while. We deserve that much, don't we?" 

There was a warmth in his voice, a quiet strength meant to reassure you in ways nothing else at Briarcliff ever could. Kit was right — both of you did deserve this. And you could use the sweet release from the asylum's cruel grasp. 

You took a deep breath, nodding slightly as you made up your mind. "Okay," you whispered into the darkness. Kit could feel the touch of your words against his lips. "Okay, let's go." 

His hand was firm and reassuring as he helped you to your feet. Every movement of his was carefully done, as if even the slightest noise could shatter the fragile veil of secrecy he had cast over the both of you. The dim light of the common room flickered weakly, casting long shadows across the floor, but you moved with purpose, slipping quietly through the rows of seats, avoiding the eyes of the staff and the other patients who were too engrossed in the film to notice your departure. Sister Jude should hire more responsible staff. 

Once you reached the doorway, Kit paused, glancing back to ensure no one was watching before gently guiding you with a strong hand against your lower back into the darkened corridor beyond. The heavy wooden door closed behind you with a soft creak, and the two of you were finally alone, the distant sound of the movie a only faint hum behind. You moved quickly through the long, lonely corridors of Briarcliff Asylum, footsteps barely audible on the cold, tiled floors. The rain continued its assault on the windows with no sight of stopping. Kit led the way, his grip on your hand never faltering. 

As the both of you rounded a corner, the sound of distant voices reached your ears — staff members making their rounds. Kit's fingers tightened his hold on yours, pulling you closer as you pressed yourself against the wall, breaths held in unison. The voices grew louder for a moment, then faded as the staff continued down another corridor, oblivious to the two figures hidden in the shadows. Relief washed over you along with the vivid pictures of Sister Jude's punishment. You needed to find a place to hide, somewhere quiet where you could steal a few moments of peace away from the watchful eyes.

Finally, you reached the heavy metal doors of the kitchen, pushed open just enough to allow a sliver of light to escape into the dark corridor. Kit glanced around to ensure you were alone before gently pulling the door open wider, gesturing for you to slip inside first. He followed right after you. 

The kitchen was quiet, dimly lit by a single overhead light that cast a soft glow across the industrial steel countertops and rows of neatly organized utensils. The scent of cleaning supplies mingled with the faint aroma of fresh bread that had long since been cleared away. 

And before either of you could think or second-guess, you were drawn together like magnets. Kit leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and filled with urgency. The kiss deepened quickly though, passion flaring between the two of you like a wildfire as everything else faded away — the asylum, the storm, the fear. All that mattered was this moment, this connection. His hands found their way to the small of your back for the second time this evening, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own. You responded in kind, slender fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer as if afraid that letting go would mean losing this fleeting moment of intimacy. 

The heat of the kiss spread through you both when Kit's strong hands slid down to the bottom of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. The feel of your body against his was intoxicating, and he moved with purpose, carrying you to the nearest counter. With a fast and urgent motion, he set you down on the cool steel surface, hands brushing aside utensils and making space for you, painting his hands with flour in the process.

Your heart raced as Kit's hands roamed your body, exploring with both desire and respect. His touch was precise as if he was memorizing every curve, every inch of your skin to remember for the rest of his days. He kissed you again, this time slower, savoring the taste of your lips as his hands moved from your waist to your hips, then slowly up to your back, pulling you closer to his body and hiking your knees up even more, leaving white fingertips in their path.

You responded in kind, hands tracing the sculpted lines of his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. There was something so raw, so real about the way he touched you — as if this was the first time in a long time he had felt truly alive. Your fingers danced across his skin, exploring the planes of his body with the same amount of desire. Kit's hands slid up your sides and under the hem of your gown, his thumbs brushing against the soft skin just above your underwear, creating a shiver that traveled down your spine. You arched into his touch, breath hitching as you felt the tension coil tighter within you. 

"Kit . . . I—" you couldn't finish your sentence, the words lost in a breathless moan as his hands wandered lower, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you. 

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath hot and ragged against your lips. The intensity in his gaze was undeniable, a mixture of raw desire and something deeper, something that made your heart pound even harder. That look — told you how much he wanted you, how much he needed this, how much he needed you — made you tighten your legs around his waist. "I've got you," he whispered, his voice rough. It was a look that made your heart race and your body ache for more. 

The door swung open with a suddenness that shattered the intimate bubble you had created, the sound echoing off the cold, sterile walls of the kitchen. Kit froze, his grip on your hips tightening instinctively as you both turned toward the intrusion. The harsh overhead light of the corridor spilled into the room, illuminating the figures standing in the doorway.

A tall, stern-looking man in the uniform of the asylum staff stood there, his eyes narrowing as they fell upon Kit and you. His presence was imposing, his broad shoulders blocking out most of the light from the hallway, but it was the figure behind him that sent a jolt of fear through your chest.

Sister Jude.

She stood in the doorway like a dark omen, her presence dominating the small, dimly lit kitchen. The air around her seemed to chill, as if the very atmosphere cooled from her disapproving gaze. She didn't need to raise her voice to command attention; her mere presence demanded it. The rosary beads hanging from her waist clicked softly as she took a measured step forward, the sound eerie in the tense silence of the room.

The staff member followed the head of this asylum, his eyes flicking between Kit and you, the disdain in his expression unmistakable. "Found them, Sister Jude," he said with a cruel satisfaction. "Just like you suspected."

Kit quickly released you and his hands dropped from your hips to tug at your gown. The least he could do was to save your modesty as much as he could. The man stepped back, positioning himself slightly in front of you as if to shield you from the inevitable wrath of Sister Jude. Your heart pounded in your chest, the warmth of the moment disappearing into the cold reality of the situation just like Kit's hands. 

Sister Jude's icy gaze shifted from the staff member to Kit, and then to you, her brown irises narrowing further. "Well, well," she began loudly, her voice echoing in the silent room, cutting through the tension easily. "I always knew you had a penchant for trouble, Mr. Walker, but this . . . This is a new low, even for you." She took a step closer to you, her heels clicking ominously against the tiled floor. "And you, Miss [Last name] . . . I expected better." 

The weight of her words pressed down like a leaden shroud, suffocating any remaining trace of the warmth and connection that had filled the room just moments before. It was as if the very walls of Briarcliff had closed in around you both, trapping you in.

Kit stood his ground, though every instinct screamed at him to protect you from the storm that was about to break. His jaw clenched tightly, the muscles in his neck tensing as he fought to maintain his composure. His hands, which had just moments ago been tenderly caressing your skin, now curled into fists at his sides. But beneath that facade, there was also a flicker of fear — not for himself, but for what you might endure at the hands of Sister Jude if his plans failed. He squared his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height, and locked eyes with the cold woman before him. "It was my idea," Kit declared, his voice firm and unwavering despite the tension that crackled in the air like a live wire. "Leave her out of this." His words were a shield, a desperate attempt to keep his promise, to protect you from the consequences that he feared would be far worse for you than for him.

Sister Jude's eyes flickered with something that you couldn't quite place — an emotion that lingered somewhere between suspicion and a twisted, almost predatory satisfaction. Her thin lips curled into a faint, humorless smile, and the cold glint in her eyes seemed to sharpen, as if she were savoring the moment. She took another slow step forward and her gaze shifted from Kit to you, who stood just behind him, face paler than usual.

"Oh, I have no doubt it was, Mr. Walker," each word was enunciated with deliberate precision, as though she were savoring the power she held over the two of you. "But both of you will be held accountable for this . . . indiscretion."

"I'm the one who's responsible," Kit's voice cut through the oppressive silence with a determined edge. "It was my idea, and I should be the one held accountable. Leave [Name] out of this."

Sister Jude's expression flickered with a moment of surprise, but it quickly settled back into its usual look. Her eyes narrowed as she took in Kit's words, her mind no doubt calculating how best to respond to his unexpected act of bravery. "Very well," she said, her tone clipped and devoid of sympathy. "If you insist on taking the blame, then you will be the one to bear the consequences." The woman turned her attention to the staff member who had followed her into the kitchen. "Go to my office. Fetch the cane. The one I reserve for my favorite patients."

The staff member's brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't hesitate. He gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, disappearing through the door with a purposeful stride. The sound of his footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor as he made his way to retrieve the instrument of punishment.

Sister Jude's gaze returned to Kit and Dahlia, her expression unrelenting. "You've chosen to make this difficult for yourself, Mr. Walker," she said, her voice dripping with a cold satisfaction. "And while I commend your misguided sense of honor, it changes nothing about the punishment that awaits you. And you, miss [Last name], shall watch what happens once stupidity takes over the mind."

Your heart ached at the sight of Kit standing his ground, his body tense with the weight of his decision. You wanted to protest, to beg Sister Jude to reconsider, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the sheer weight of the situation. Instead, you reached out, your hand trembling as you grasped Kit's arm, trying to offer some measure of comfort and support.

Kit looked down at you, his eyes softening just for a moment before he turned his attention back to Sister Jude. "Whatever you're planning, I can take it."

"Your bravery is noted. But bravery will not protect you from the consequences of your actions."

The staff member returned, carrying the cane with a deliberate and solemn expression. The cane was an old-fashioned implement, its polished wood gleaming menacingly under the kitchen's harsh lights. It was a feared symbol of discipline, one that had seen many hands and many uses over the years, and its presence in the room only heightened the sense of dread.

Sister Jude took the cane from the staff member, her fingers tracing its surface with a possessive, almost reverent touch. "This is the cane I reserve for my most . . . memorable patients," she said, her voice low and chilling. "It is reserved for those who require a lesson in obedience. You will stay and watch. This is part of your lesson as well — understanding the consequences of defiance."

Kit's pants were pulled down by the staff member, exposing his bare bottom to the cold air of the kitchen. The sight of his exposed skin, vulnerable and waiting, was a sharp contrast to the determined set of his jaw. He braced himself against the edge of the kitchen counter, his knuckles white as he gripped the surface for support.

The cane was held firmly in her hand, and Sister Jude raised it with a practiced ease, preparing to deliver the first stroke. The sharp whoosh of the cane slicing through the air was followed by a resounding crack as it made contact with Kit's bare skin. The sound was a brutal reminder of the severity of the punishment, and Kit's body tensed, a muffled grunt escaping his lips as the sting of the cane seared into his flesh. The printed redness flared bright against the pale tone of his skin. 

Your eyes filled with tears as you watched, heart breaking at the sight of Kit's suffering. The sight of his reddened skin, the way his body flinched with each stroke, was almost too much to bear. Every crack of the cane seemed to echo through your own chest and you felt like throwing up. 

The punishment was relentless, each crack of the cane drawing a sharp gasp or low moan from Kit, his breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts. His eyes remained fixed straight ahead, and he tried to maintain his composure, though the strain of the punishment was evident in the tension of his muscles and the way his body shook with each hit. His only concession to the agony was the occasional clenching of his jaw and the muffled sounds that escaped him.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Sister Jude stepped back, her breath even and controlled. The cane was lowered, and she regarded Kit with a look of detached satisfaction, as if the punishment had been a necessary chore rather than an act of cruelty.

Kit's body slumped slightly, his breathing ragged and labored as he tried to regain his composure. His bottom was marked with the angry red welts of the punishment, the skin raw and tender from the relentless strokes of the cane. Your eyes were filled with anguish as you looked at him, the man who had taken the blame upon himself to protect you.

Sister Jude's gaze then turned to you, her expression one of stern disapproval, before she and the staff member exited the kitchen. "You've seen what happens when rules are broken. Let this be a lesson to you." 

Your heart raced, pulse pounding in your ears as you rushed to Kit's side. Your movements were frantic, driven by a desperate need to offer him some measure of comfort and relief from the suffering he had endured. Tears streamed down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you approached him, hands trembling more than ever as you reached out to touch him. "Kit, I'm so sorry."

Kit turned his head slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and something softer, a flicker of gratitude for your concern. He took a deep, shuddering breath and attempted to straighten up, though his body protested with each movement. "Don't," he said softly, his hand reaching out to drape over your shoulders for support. "It's not your fault. I chose this. And I would do it again."

[slut4evanpeters]

Bound By The Dark

Tate Langdon x Reader loosely based on Romeo and Juliet.

song i recommend listening to: living legend by lana del rey

warning: very angst, suicide, using medication to commit, romanticizing of death, tragic ending, themes of isolation, depression, emotional distress, do not read if ANY of these are triggers.

word count: 2.7k

notes: please read this with caution. if you are struggling with suicidal thoughts, please know that you are loved and supported. its never to late for help:)

The house had a history.

You learned that almost immediately after stepping foot inside the large, looming structure. It towered over the street, its cracked façade barely hidden behind sprawling vines and overgrown bushes. The real estate agent had brushed off any concerns you or your parents had, but there was a feeling. A thick, suffocating tension. That settled over the place, clinging to your skin like humidity. It smelled old, like mildew and stale air, and as soon as you crossed the threshold, you knew you didn’t want to be there.

But your family didn’t care about how it felt. They cared that the house was cheap, and that it was far larger than any other home you’d ever lived in. Your father said it was a “fresh start” for all of you. A new life in a new city. It was the kind of lie that parents told when they didn’t want to admit that things had been falling apart for a long time, and now this move was their last-ditch attempt to piece things back together.

But no matter how much you tried to embrace that optimism, you couldn’t shake the chill that seeped into your bones as you walked the long, winding halls of the house. Something was off, like the house was waiting for something, or maybe for someone.

The first few days were relatively uneventful. Boxes were unpacked, rooms were organized, and your parents seemed to settle in without much concern. Your room was large, with a window that looked out onto the overgrown backyard, where a twisted oak tree stood tall and crooked, like it had been there longer than the house itself.

But even in the bright light of the afternoon, the house felt wrong. Its walls creaked and groaned in the night as if it had a voice of its own. Sometimes, when you were alone, you could swear you heard footsteps echoing down the hallways, but when you looked, no one was there. The isolation was suffocating, and though you had tried to distract yourself with new schoolwork and social media, nothing could fill the growing void inside you.

It was late one evening when you first met him.

The rain had been pounding against your window, relentless and unyielding, when you decided to venture down to the basement. Your parents had explicitly warned you to stay away from it, but something about the basement called to you. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was fate.

The stairs groaned under your weight as you descended, the air growing colder with each step. The basement was dimly lit, the shadows casting strange shapes along the walls, and yet it felt strangely familiar. Like you had been there before, though you knew you hadn’t.

And then you saw him.

He was leaning against one of the brick walls, his blond curls falling into his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. His clothes were simple, almost dated—a worn sweater and jeans that looked like they belonged to a different era. But it was his eyes that held your attention—dark, hollow, and full of something you couldn’t quite place.

“Hey,” he said softly, as if he’d been expecting you. His voice was calm, almost soothing, despite the eerie atmosphere of the basement.

You froze, unsure of what to do. This was your house—wasn’t it? Who was he? How had he gotten in?

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice steady but your heart racing in your chest.

He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Tate.”

“And what are you doing in my house?” you demanded, trying to sound braver than you felt.

Tate shrugged, pushing himself off the wall and stepping closer to you. “I live here.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. He lived here? That couldn’t be true—you and your family had just moved in. The house had been empty for years. Or at least, that’s what the real estate agent had said.

“No, you don’t,” you said, frowning. “We just moved in. No one’s lived here for years.”

Tate’s smile widened, though there was something almost sad about it. “Not in the way you think.”

There was something about the way he said it—so matter-of-fact, so final—that sent a chill down your spine. You opened your mouth to ask what he meant, but before you could, the lights flickered, plunging the basement into darkness for just a second. When the light returned, Tate was gone, leaving you standing alone in the cold, silent basement.

You tried asking your parents if they knew anything about the previous owners of the house, but they shrugged it off. “No one important,” your father had said, brushing past the question as if it didn’t matter. “Some old family. The house has been empty for a while.”

But you knew that wasn’t true. Tate had been there, and somehow, you felt like he had been there for a long time.

It wasn’t long before you saw him again. It was late at night, after your parents had gone to bed. You were restless, unable to sleep, so you wandered the house, hoping to quiet your thoughts. As you passed by one of the unused rooms on the second floor, you felt a strange pull, as if something—or someone—was calling you.

You pushed the door open, and there he was, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest. He looked up as you entered, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“You came back,” he said softly, as if he had been waiting for you.

“I didn’t come back for you,” you said, though even as the words left your mouth, you knew they weren’t entirely true.

Tate smiled that sad, knowing smile again. “You don’t have to lie. Not to me.”

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. There was something about him—something that drew you in, even though every instinct in your body told you to stay away. He was dangerous, you could feel it in your bones, but you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to know him. You needed to understand him.

“Why are you here?” you asked, stepping further into the room.

Tate sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. “Because I can’t leave.”

“What do you mean?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if the weight of the answer was too much to bear. “I’m tied to this house. I’ve been here for a long time. Longer than you could imagine.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine. “Are you… are you dead?”

Tate’s eyes opened slowly, and when they met yours, they were filled with a sorrow so deep it took your breath away. “Yes.”

You weren’t sure how to process the fact that Tate was a ghost.

You wanted to deny it, to rationalize it, but the more you spoke with him, the more real it became. Tate had died a long time ago, but his spirit remained in the house, bound by some invisible force that kept him there.

At first, you were scared. You avoided the rooms where you had seen him, trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t real—that he wasn’t real. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were meant to know him. There was something about him, something tragic and beautiful, that pulled you in.

And so, slowly, you began to seek him out.

It became a routine: you’d wander the house late at night, knowing you’d find him waiting for you somewhere. Sometimes in the basement, sometimes in that forgotten room on the second floor. You’d talk for hours, sharing stories of your life, your dreams, your fears. And Tate, in return, told you about his.

He had been lonely for so long, trapped in the house with no one to talk to, no one to understand him. But with you, he felt alive again, even if just for a fleeting moment.

One night, as you sat together in the attic, Tate reached out and brushed his fingers against your cheek. His touch was cold, but it sent a warmth spreading through your chest, igniting something deep inside you.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, his voice trembling with something you couldn’t quite place. “This house… it’s not safe.”

“I don’t care,” you said, your heart pounding in your chest. “I want to be with you.”

Tate’s eyes darkened, filled with a mix of desire and fear. “You don’t understand, Y/N. I’m dangerous. I’ve done things�� horrible things.”

“I don’t care,” you repeated, your voice firm. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and electric. Tate stared at you, his expression filled with shock and disbelief. “You… you love me?”

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “Yes, Tate. I do.”

For a moment, Tate didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, he leaned in and kissed you. His lips were cool against yours, but the kiss was filled with an intensity that took your breath away. It was desperate, almost frantic, as if he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear.

But you didn’t pull away. You kissed him back, pouring every ounce of your heart into that single, stolen moment.

When you finally broke apart, Tate rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But we can’t… we can’t be together. Not like this.”

Despite Tate’s warnings, you couldn’t stay away from him.

Every night, you found yourself returning to him, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And each night, your connection deepened. You could feel it—the way the house seemed to pulse with a dark energy, as if it knew you were falling in love with a ghost and was waiting for the inevitable fallout.

Your parents noticed the change in you, though they didn’t understand it. You spent less time with them, more time wandering the halls of the house, lost in your thoughts. They tried to talk to you about it, but you brushed them off, too consumed by your love for Tate to care about anything else.

“You’ve been acting strange,” your mother said one morning over breakfast, her brow furrowed with concern. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lied, though your heart felt heavy in your chest. How could you tell her the truth? How could you explain that you had fallen in love with someone who was dead?

But deep down, you knew it couldn’t last.

The house was getting to you. You could feel it in the way the walls seemed to close in on you, the way the air felt thicker, heavier. The longer you stayed, the more you realized that Tate had been right—it wasn’t safe. Not for you, not for anyone.

And yet, you couldn’t leave him. You loved him too much.

It was late one night when everything came crashing down.

You had been in the attic with Tate, your head resting on his shoulder as the two of you lay side by side. The house was quiet, the only sound the soft patter of rain against the roof.

“You know this can’t last, right?” Tate said suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stiffened, pulling away to look at him. “What do you mean?”

Tate’s eyes were filled with sadness as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re alive, Y/N. You have a life outside of this house. Outside of me.”

“I don’t want a life without you,” you said, your voice trembling. “I can’t leave you, Tate.”

“But you have to,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You deserve to live. To be happy.”

Tears filled your eyes as you shook your head. “I don’t want to be happy without you.”

Tate closed his eyes, his expression pained. “I love you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. But this… it’s not fair to you.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed through the attic, followed by the creak of the door opening. You turned to see your father standing in the doorway, his face pale with shock.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking. “Who are you talking to?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you realized that your father couldn’t see Tate. To him, you were sitting alone, talking to thin air.

“Dad, I can explain—” you started, but your father cut you off.

“We’re leaving,” he said, his voice firm. “This house… it’s doing something to you. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“No!” you cried, standing up and taking a step toward him. “I’m not leaving! I can’t!”

But your father didn’t listen. He turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the attic with tears streaming down your face.

Deep down, knew that without Tate, you’d be better off in the gutter. His presence was the only thing tethering you to the mess that had become your life, but it wasn’t enough to pull you out. That night, everything seemed so much clearer.

You made the decision.

Racing from the attic into your bedroom, your heart pounded in your chest. It wasn’t panic, but a strange kind of calm, like you had finally figured out the answer to a question that had haunted you for your time loving Tate. You went straight to the nightstand, hands trembling as you yanked open the top drawer. Buried in the back, behind half-empty tubes of lip balm and loose change, was the small box of paracetamol. You had kept it there in case of a fever, but that wasn’t why you reached for it now.

Sitting on your bed, the stillness of the room pressed in around you. One by one, you popped each pill from its foiled tray, their edges cutting slightly into your fingertips. You placed each one on your tongue, swallowing them dry, your throat burning as the bitter taste clung to the back of your mouth.

Once the last pill was gone, you sank back against the pillows, feeling the cool fabric cradling your head. A faint tune drifted through the air, a song you couldn’t quite place but one that felt familiar, almost comforting. Your vision started to blur, your head spinning gently, and your eyelids grew heavy. For a fleeting moment, you thought you felt Tate’s presence, like a shadow hovering beside you, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t try to stop you.

The world slipped away.

When you opened your eyes, everything had changed. You crawled out of bed, your limbs feeling light and weightless, but when you turned to look, your breath caught in your throat. There you were, your body, lying perfectly still on the bed. Peaceful. Almost as if you had simply fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

For a moment, you stood frozen, staring at yourself, trying to make sense of what had just happened. There was no pain, no fear. Just a strange sense of detachment, like watching a scene play out in a movie.

Then, from over your shoulder, you heard it. A whisper.

“I told you death was painless.” Tate’s voice, low and familiar, curled around you like smoke. You turned to find him standing there, the ghost of a smirk on his lips, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite read. “You didn’t need saving, after all.”

You looked back at your body one last time, then turned to face him fully. Maybe he was right—maybe you didn’t need saving. But the decision had already been made, and now there was no going back.

Hand in hand with Tate, you walked into the darkness together, the world you had known fading away behind you.

In the end, your love story was not one of happiness or hope. It was a tragedy, a tale of two souls bound by love.

Tate was your Romeo, and you his Juliet.

[rainforest-daisies]

Day 19|Dry humping

Character: Tate Langdon x afab!reader

Tags: Dry humping, nipple play, implied unprotected PIV

A/n: To everyone who has reblogged or replied to any of my kinktober posts, i fw you🙏

Kinktober masterlist

Your hips ground against his groin, rough movements keeping your body burning with sweat and passion, hot breaths being fanned against each other's faces as betwixt moans slipped your parted lips, puffy from the bites Tate had left on them.

His prominent bulge pressed stiffly against your desperate core, regretting the situation of lacking a condom in your dresser drawer. His slender finger reached for your tank top strap, grasping at your waist to steady your body as your movements became erratic.

A strong tug of his finger pulled the strap down, exposing your soft breasts and hardening nipples, which he quickly dipped down to take one of them into his mouth. He moaned against your warm skin, sliding his hands down to your hips and dragging your hardly clothed cunt against him.

“Screw the condom, I need to be inside of you.”

[archivequinn]

MADNESS (Eddie Munson × AHS Asylum) Part I

Summary: Three years after his disappearance, Eddie Munson is arrested for the murder of Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson, Patrick McKinney and others, but the truth is very different. When he can't convince people that Vecna exists and that he is innocent, he is committed to a mental hospital. But the only way out is to prove to the psychiatrist that he is not crazy. If he cannot convince the psychiatrist, he will be executed as a murderer. And he must hurry to do so because Vecna has come to finish the job he left unfinished. As Eddie fights for his life, what is the most his psychiatrist can do to save him when she learns he is innocent? Perhaps the only reason his psychiatrist wants to save him is not because Eddie is innocent, but because the two of them have developed feelings for each other over time.

Warnings: It's inspired by the horror series American Horror Story, so it has a lot of horror elements. Mention of blood, hospital, electric chair, execution, injury, sex, nudity, (+18 please, MDNI) extremely depressive thoughts, depression, drugs, self-harm, suicidal thoughts and attempts, violence, smut, claustrophobic, dark moods. (please tell me if I have forgotten anything.) please DO NOT READ if at least one of these is a trigger for you.

1989, Eddie Munson's Perspective.

The police officer punched me once more in the face. I swallowed the blood that filled my mouth. My eyes were so swollen that I could only squint. The police officer took a handkerchief out of his pocket and started walking around the room. He wiped the blood off his hands in disgust. But it was my blood, not his.

"Do you hear that sound, Munson?" he said through clenched teeth. Then he continued, "That's the voice of the Hawkins people who would destroy you in two minutes if I gave you to them. They want justice. We will give them the justice they want.''

I swallowed the blood that filled my mouth again. "I didn't do anything," I said, barely breathing. He walked quickly towards me and kicked the chair I was sitting on. I groaned in pain as I hit the floor, the sound of the iron chair hitting the floor echoed around the room, like a banshee screaming. My hands and feet were handcuffed. That's why I couldn't move, the police officer was already kicking me from where I was lying. I heard the door creak open and a familiar voice came running towards us.

Hopper: "Stop it! For God's sake stop! What are you gonna do?! Are you going to kill him?! He's just a child!''

The police officer who stopped kicking me spat on me. He was pointing at me. "He's not a child. He's the devil himself.''

Hopper grabbed the police officer by the collar and threw him out. Then he helped me up off the floor. When he uncuffed me, I looked at my wrists, bruised. I could no longer figure out where it hurt the most.

I could hear chants and shouts from outside, "Die, Munson! You murderer! Give us the murderer! His punishment should be execution!"

Hopper: We're getting you out of here. In an hour.

I didn't look up. "Who reported me? Who told them where I was? God, how can they find me after all these years?''

Hopper shook his head in a negative way. "I don't know. This is beyond Hawkins now. The FBI is on the case. You're all over the national news. Newspaper stories are being printed about you from all over the world. There's a caravan of reporters and news stations outside the front door. You're going on trial for killing four people and putting one in a coma.''

I said loudly, "Four?! Jesus Christ! Vecna only killed three people and put Max in a coma. Who's the fourth?''

Hopper didn't seem to know what to do. He was as bewildered as I was. He rubbed his forehead with his hand. "Jason. They say it was you who killed him.''

I punched the table. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? All the deaths in this town are blamed on me?''

Hopper: They're looking for someone to pin it on so they can get rid of the backlog of cases they can't explain. There's no one to defend you right now. The lawyers are dropping the case. And that suits these filthy pigs.

I asked the question that had been on my mind all along, afraid of his response. "So what's going to happen to me now?

Hopper looked at the clock on his wrist and headed for the door. When he opened it, I was relieved to see it was Dustin, Steve, and Robin. For a second I thought it was that asshole again. My bones ached when Dustin ran up and hugged me. I probably had more than one fracture.

Dustin: Dude… They're sending you away. They're sending you to Bloomfield.

Eddie: Bloomfield? What, I'm going to Michigan? Do you guys know how far that is?!

Steve sat down at the table in front of me.

Steve: If you stay here, they'll kill you. Prosecutor Robert wants to execute you on this case and become a national hero. That's why he won't let the crowd kill you. You're going to a safe place.

I laughed sarcastically. "When I get to the prison there, they're going to put me in the electric chair and make me Eddie double cheese toast anyway.''

Robin smiled nervously, biting her lips. I knew that smile.

Robin: Yeah, about that… You're not going to prison.

I raised one eyebrow and looked at her to continue, but it was Steve who spoke.

Steve: You're going to a mental hospital, man. You're going to Chassell mental hospital.

I grabbed my face with both hands, i was laughing hysterically.

Hopper: We somehow convinced them that you committed these murders, but that you were mentally unstable. We told them that you kept saying it was some creature you made up in your head.

Eddie: Well, that's already true!

Hopper: Of course it's true, you shithead, but they don't know that, and when they do, that's what they'll tell you! We're saving your life! If they are not convinced you are crazy, they will execute you.

Again I asked a question I was afraid of the response, "What if they are convinced I'm crazy? Then what happens next?''

Everyone looked at each other.

Hopper: This time there will be a discussion about you staying there for life. They will appoint a highly skilled and experienced doctor to determine that. Don't make a mistake. Prove to the court that you are crazy. After the court receives the psychiatrist's report and orders you to stay in the hospital for life, we will come to get you. We will also find the asshole who reported you.

There was silence for a while.

Eddie: What about Vecna?

Robin: Nothing's happened in three years. I don't think it will happen after this time, but if it does, we'll be prepared.

Steve took something out of his pocket. It was a walkman. I took the tape out and looked at it and I saw the name Eddie Mix on it. Steve explained it before I asked.

Steve: I put your favorite metal songs on it, you know you might need it. You should guard this better than your life and keep it safe. Your life may depend on it. So if he comes hunting you…

Silence again. When I stood up, everyone straightened up.

Eddie: Okay, one last question. How do I pretend to be crazy when I'm not?

Hopper shrugged. I felt like I had just asked the easiest question in the world and I didn't even know it.

Hopper: Just tell them the truth. No need to lie.

I nodded my head in agreement. I handed my hands to Hopper to cuff them. That's what the people wanted. They wanted to see the murderer caught.

The camera flashes...

Chains wrapped around my feet...

The people booing and throwing things...

I got into the police car amid curses I didn't know which one to listen to. A long journey awaited me. I never thought that one day I would leave this town where I was born and raised like this. But one day I would come back here, exonerated, they would come to get me. I knew it.

I walked through the door of the hospital, whose gloomy atmosphere could be seen for miles around. The hospital was old and decrepit, with peeling paint and flickering fluorescent lights that cast an eerie glow on everything. The air smelled of antiseptic and decay, like something had died there a long time ago but never been properly disposed of. And in the distance, I could hear faint whispers and moans from the patients who were trapped inside.

It smelled disgusting inside. It was black and white, maybe gray. It was as if they were living in a movie from the fifties. There was no sign of life in their eyes, if there was a smell of despair, it would smell like this place. I wondered what to do in such a dull and boring place.

The people in blue clothes were patients. I could tell right away. The ones in white were nurses and the ones in white coats were doctors. I had been to enough churches to know that those in black were nuns. Of course, that was a long time ago. And then there were the guards. I noticed that they all had tasers in their pockets. None of them carried real guns.

The big hall was a vast, cavernous space with high ceilings and also peeling wallpaper. There were rows of metal chairs bolted to the floor, like something out of an old-fashioned movie theater. And in the center of the room stood a massive statue of some long-dead saint or martyr, its face twisted into an expression of agony.

A male nurse was accompanying me as I walked towards the guards. Since I was the only one dressed differently, even the patients noticed me. One of them pointed a pointing finger at me and laughed. You turn around and laugh at yourself, you jerk.

For a moment it occurred to me that if I stayed here I might actually go crazy. I turned to the nurse next to me.

Eddie. Eddie: Where are we going?

The corridors… well, they were narrow and dimly lit, with flickering fluorescent lights that cast strange shadows on the walls. I could hear footsteps echoing down them at odd hours - sometimes from other patients shuffling along in their slippers, but other times from things that didn't quite seem human.

Nurse: To get you a ward to sleep in and to get your patient clothes.

I laughed like I was teasing.

Eddie: Will I have a roommate?

The nurse gave a laugh that made it clear he was mocking me.

Nurse: Satan-worshipping assholes like you should be left alone.

As I walked through the dirty and narrow corridors, I wondered which doctor was my doctor. Meanwhile, the nurse continued to complain.

Nurse: I don't understand why they put you in ward A. You assholes belong in C ward.

I hadn't lost my cynical smile. "They must love me very much. They didn't want me to die.''

There were guards bringing a stretcher from across the hall. A white sheet was draped over the person lying on the stretcher. They carried the dying patient past me, emotionless and sullen.

The smile on my face was gone and the nurse was enjoying it.

Nurse: See, Munson? This is your only way out of here once you're in here.

We went into a big laundry room and there were big baskets of the same color blue clothes. Blue dresses for women and blue suits for men. They looked like pajamas. An orderly woman was sitting in front of the door, chewing gum and flipping through magazines.

I noticed that it hadn't stopped raining since the moment I arrived here. All the windows were barred. I wasn't supposed to be in jail, for fuck's sake.

The male nurse left me there. I went over to the person at the door.

Eddie: I was wondering if I could get a L size, I'd like to wear a little looser.

She didn't even look up. "Do you want a personal chauffeur or a cook? Go and get one of those clean ones over there that fits you. Don't bother me.''

I rolled my eyes.

Eddie: Is there a bag or a closet or something I can put my stuff in?

The woman looked at me and lowered her pointy secretary glasses down to the tip of her nose.

"You think this is a hotel, son? The only thing you take with you when you come in here is your body. We even take the wedding rings of the married people who stay here. Because even with that, they somehow find a way to commit suicide or kill someone else.''

I frowned, "How is this allowed? Don't the police do anything?"

The woman thought I was joking and laughed, but when she realized I was serious, she nodded carelessly.

"Most of the people who sleep here have no family or acquaintances. No one comes after them. We are happy to have another empty bed because there are too many patients and too few employees. Now a new psychiatrist will come for you. As if it wasn't enough that we took you."

She was waving a pen in my direction.

I put on the blue hospital gown and put my hair up.

The cell was small and cramped, a musty smell that made my nose wrinkle. There was a single metal bed frame in one corner of the room, with a thin mattress covered in stains and tears. A rusted toilet sat against one wall, barely functional and caked with grime. And next to it was a sink - more like a metal basin than an actual sink - where patients could wash their hands if they were lucky enough to have access to water.

The whole place felt suffocatingly claustrophobic, like there wasn't enough air to breathe properly. And when i looked closely at the walls or floorboards, i could see faint scratches or gouges from previous patients who had tried desperately to escape.

I lay down on the bed and looked out of the window with the bars. Then I stood up quickly. I made a few laps around the room, which was already three steps long. They had taken everything. They had taken my walkman too.

I heard the guard shouting from outside.

"It's almost nine o'clock! Lights out soon!''

anyone who wants a tag list for part 2 please let me know 🩶

my first language is not English so I apologize if I made any translation mistakes, please share with me my mistakes and your thoughts about the fic, I would be very happy. 🫶🏻

[lirarere]

headcanons relationship!

with pre cult! kai anderson x gn!reader

notes: ok I came back a little later than I wanted, but ok, at least I kept my promise lol, enjoy!

warning: nothing special at the beginning, except for jealousy and self-doubt kai, maybe kai is still a little ooc! at the end there will be a moment with possession, sexual themes (not explicit), spoilers, mention of death and corpses, anyway I will leave a note before this, so read carefully!!

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with the obvious: kai is an awkward virgin who has never even been kissed, he literally sits in his basement 24/7 and is the boss of reddit and 4chan and when he found you... god put a leash on him

it will literally be so difficult to tear him away from you at the beginning of the friendship, you are probably literally his only friend (not counting those very dubious dudes in the above-mentioned reddit and 4chan), of course he will be hooked on you and will be with you forever like gum on your jeans

most likely, you will confess first because he is too awkward and is afraid of rejection, he is also afraid that you will consider him an eccentric and completely reject him (he literally dreamed about this a couple of times and woke up in a cold sweat)

but when you admit... oh, be prepared that now he is not just chewing gum, but a stain that can never be removed with more than one washing powder, he has completely fallen

when you first hold his hand he has a little explosion in his head, his hand immediately becomes sweaty and sticky, you'll probably have to wash your hand (and him too) because he's a super wet boy

with kisses it will be twice as bad, if they are quick and on the cheek (most often on his initiative) then he will simply blush and wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans

if it’s on the lips, then he will lose consciousness, no, he will literally lose consciousness, his brain simply cannot withstand the overabundance of impulses and small atomic explosions in his heart and he will pass out

you are literally his first, just love him 😔

often when you hang out at his house (because he is a very antisocial person) you also often hear his parents arguing, at such moments Kai closes down and the tension in the air next to him can be felt for a kilometer. then you will try to distract him with careless kisses, talking about nothingthan watching some B-movie

most likely, he will tell some shameful secret about himself, such as: when his parents quarreled as a child (not so intensely, of course), he hid under the bed and then when he was already a more mature child/teenager. when you offer to do the same, but now he will be embarrassed and try to play "grown boy", but in the end he will crawl under the bed with you and you will casually kiss and talk about some nonsense (based on my conversation with the bot kai ♡)

speaking of parents, here are a few stories:

if you are a girl, then his father will consider you a stupid whore who only takes advantage of Kai and will leave him as soon as he has had enough (Kai is very upset, but he cannot do anything because he is afraid of his father)

if you're a guy, then kai's father definitely doesn't need to know about your relationship, he doesn't want his son to be some kind of "faggot", his father has already verbally attacked you a couple of times because he thought you weren't "manly" enough (kai still it's frustrating, but he understands that hiding is the best thingoption)

if you're genderqueer, then... well, his dad doesn't understand that, so he'll judge you based on your gender

however, his mother would accept you normally no matter who you are, even if you are a guy or genderqueer (she will get used to it)

with his brother and sister being more difficult, Winter and Vincent probably wouldn’t care? (or rather, they wouldn’t focus on it because they are busy with their own affairs) but they would be fine with the fact that their brother comes out of his shell and begins to contact at least someone

on especially difficult days, kai sometimes offers to run away to another city together, find a crappy, dirty apartment in a clearly unpleasant part of the city, find a dead-end job without career growth and live together... even if everything is bad, but at least there are no quarrels between his parents...

if you also have problems in your family, then you will become a support and consolation for each other and would always tell each other whatever you want, in the case of kai, his parents divorced, and in yours they either divorced, or if you have one toxic parent, then they would stop putting so much pressure on you... anyway you would they wanted Kai’s parents to stop putting pressure on him and yours to stop putting pressure on youif you have good parents, then Kai would definitely be jealous, but if they accepted him, he would have a reason to stay with you longer and basically hang out at your house 24/7

kai loves little moments of intimacy... he doesn't have much money, and the only thing he can give you is physical affection (which he saw in the cinema). you often lie together on the bed with your eyes closed, kai just holds your hand, pressing his nose against yours and rubbing itthumb on the back of your hand, he rarely whispers any comments and most often these are some sweet things like: “I love you”, “you make me feel freer”, “your hand is so soft”, etc.

he loves to hug you and bury his head in your chest, he loves when you run your hands on his head, sorting through the strands, he loves to lie on your lap with his nose buried in your stomach, he loves when you stroke him like a little kitten or when you gently rub him nails on his back, he lovesall the affection that you give him and will do the same for you if you ask... just let him be small for a while in your relationship, he needs it, he is tired of all this testosterone masculinity that his father is trying to stick into him

kai will try to make something with his own hands, a bracelet, a decoration for a bag (which you end up not wearing because you are afraid of losing), some kind of necklace and all that. he tries, threads, glue, or something unevenly cut, glued, etc. are always sticking out of the object, but you never throw it away...because kai did it

(spoiler: all his hands are covered in scratches, burns from hot glue, fingers are glued together somewhere and you always deal with this by covering his fingers and hands with bandages)

Kai is easily jealous, simply because he is unsure of himself and thinks that you can leave him for another person and because of this you have frequent quarrels, because he thinks that you are about to leave (he always apologizes almost on my knees asking for forgiveness because I’m afraid of losing you)

but when he sees you with another person, it takes a lot of time to explain to Kay that this person is just a friend and nothing more, if for some reason you fail to explain (you don’t find out what he saw) he will cry, think a lot and think a lot (take the poor guy to a psychologist)

he lies that you are so beautiful, successful, kind, of course everyone wants you, and he is just an insecure guy without a job who can’t even kiss you normally because he is shy, of course you will leave him sooner or later for a more successful person, just convince him that this is not so and youboth are losers (it’s better this way because if you tell him that he’s good, he won’t believe it because he knows it’s not true)

warning!! this is where more disturbing themes begin, if you don’t want to read about obsession, then skip it!

when his parents die... oh he will definitely become more dependent on you and will literally need you

he will do anything to keep you close to him, he will become more intrusive

when you leave, you must tell him where, why, with whom, how much, otherwise he will interrupt your phone with calls and texts and hysterics

his father doesn't accept you anyway, so he will just one day take you to his parents' corpses and say something like "now they will accept us because they won't have a choice", one day he will ask you to have sex in front of their corpses... have sex while the corpses are basically lying in the houseit's already tense... so you refuse and he'll sulk a little but acceptin principle, after the death of his parents, he felt a little better and he had some kind of confidence, so he is still putty in your hands, but it’s not a pity, simply because he is now obsessed with you (not as much as if he were a cult leader! kai, but still obsessed)

he doesn’t control you in everything, he just doesn’t want you to get hurt, that’s why he runs after you like a puppy

however, nothing will change much, except that he will begin to consider you a god/goddess, but this is still tolerable and worse will obviously await you in the future.

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notes: phew!! I’m unlikely to check this text for errors, so don’t let it be too obvious haha. I'm obsessed with pre cult kai so there will most likely be a lot of content coming out for that too!

masterlist

♡rere

[inlovewithgreta]

Potions — Cordelia Goode x Fem!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summary: Cordelia had been perfecting a potion for weeks now, and it was finally time to put it to the test.

Warnings: aphrodisiac potion, mentions of alcohol, praise kink, explicit language, use of magical abilities, scissoring, fingering, oral, etc…

Word Count: 2.7k

a/n: apologies for the extremely slow updates, I’ve been swamped with work and dealing with personal issues and mental health problems. thank y’all for being so patient with me! 💛

...also I was going to make the potion take longer to work but I’m a whore and wanted to write smut. although I did leave an opening for perhaps a part two??

© Do not copy, repost, or modify any of my works.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"How much longer, 'Delia?" You asked, sneaking your arms around the blonde's slim waist. "I'm growing cold up there without my favorite supreme wrapped in my arms." Your lips couldn't help but fall into a pout as you rested your chin on her shoulder.

"I'm the only supreme, darling." She giggled, keeping her focus on the two glasses in front of her as she dumped a maroon colored liquid just below the rims. "And I'm just finishing up. I think I've finally perfected it!" She bit her plump bottom lip, turning her head to face you with excitement.

"Finally," you gave the blonde a quick kiss. "I really hope this works this time. I can't wait to see which one of us gives in first." You smirked against her lips.

"We haven't even drank it yet and you're already kissing me, darling. It's going to be you. You're very needy."

You protrude your bottom lip in a faux pout that only elicited a wider smile from the blonde and another quick peck to your lips in a reassuring kiss.

"God, I love when you make that face. It's absolutely adorable."

You playfully rolled your eyes at her words and tugged at her shirt to bring her to the plush blanket sprawled out and decorated with a few scattered pillows that sat just a few feet away from the lit fireplace.

Cordelia was well coordinated, and didn't spill a single drop of her newest concoction at your eagerness to bring her back towards the warmth.

You were first to plop down, Cordelia offering your drink to you before she sat down beside you, shoulders just barely touching yours.

"Nuh uh, not so fast, darling." Cordelia stopped your glass from tipping any further when you were too caught up in excitement over your drink. "We have to drink it at the exact same time."

You had nearly forgotten about the specifics, her concoctions always had to be done the way she said so, and it wasn't your place to question the witch when she gave you an order.

Cordelia admired your excitement. It always put a smile on her face that you were always so keen on trying new things, especially if it was something she made specifically for you.

"I really hope this works," Cordelia said quietly.

"It will. I just know it." You reassured her.

The witch then cleared her throat and held her glass towards you, and you were sure to clink your glass against hers in unison before both of you took your first sips from the dark substance.

You let out a sound of approval as the liquid hit your tastebuds. A sweet mix of apple, cinnamon, and a dash of alcohol entered your system. It tasted warm and inviting, the drink instantly putting you at ease...or so you thought.

Your gaze flicked over to the woman next to you who was still focused on her drink. Too focused to notice the way your eyes darkened when her tongue slowly swiped along the sugar coated rim on her glass.

You could feel your cheeks grow warm, and it wasn't just from the fireplace. It felt like you were heating up from the inside out. Your thoughts were in the gutter as a familiar ache grew between your legs.

You tried to play it off by nonchalantly repositioning yourself and squeezing your thighs together, the action not going unnoticed by the blonde.

Cordelia smirked and gulped down the rest of her drink, purposely tipping her glass far too much to let a few stray droplets of liquid fall from the corner of her mouth and land upon the upper swell of her breast.

The witch nonchalantly swiped her thumb along the droplet before sucking the liquid from her finger, purposely eliciting a low moan to play with you.

"How are you feeling, baby? You're looking a little...flushed." Her curved lashes fluttered as her dilated gaze moved from your face down to your bare thighs that were heavily pressed together.

"It's just a bit hot in here, that's all." You attempted to ignore her lustful gaze, instead busying yourself by downing the rest of the homemade potion.

The blonde tugged at the strap of your dress, slowly sliding it down to reveal more of your soft, smooth skin. "I would say I can fix that, but at this rate, it's only going to get much hotter in here." Your gaze flew back to the witch, who looked ethereal with the glow from the fireplace hitting half of her face in just the right place.

"Is that a fact or a promise?" You toyed, pointer finger flicking at the buttons that held her silk blouse together.

"Come here and find out," she bit her plump bottom lip, eyes sparkling with desire.

You nearly pounced on the witch, knocking the glasses out of the way as your lips engulfed hers in a fiery kiss. Cordelia's hands found the hem of your dress, lifting the fabric over your hips and tugging at it, in a way that told you to help her remove the clothing item.

The dress flew to an unknown location after you briefly broke the kiss to help her, neither of you caring where it went and instead rejoining your lips.

You straddled her waist, fingers fumbling with the buttons of her shirt and groaning out of frustration into the kiss as you struggled to free her of her clothing.

A loud rip tore through the room, buttons flying in multiple directions as you managed to tear her blouse open and slide it from her body.

"I loved that shirt," Cordelia mumbled against your lips.

"I'll buy you a new one."

In this moment, you didn't care about the shirt, you cared about how the woman you were straddling was intoxicating. Her floral scent was stronger, her skin felt softer, and the way she had your pussy wet from just a kiss drove you mad with desire.

Cordelia slowly fell back against the cushioned blanket, your lips leaving hers to place tender kisses along her jawline before nipping at the skin along her neck.

"Mm, fuck that worked quicker than I thought it would," Cordelia admitted after eliciting a low moan at your mouth leaving marks down from her neck to her chest.

You couldn't help but let out a laugh at her words before moving her sheer bra to the side, allowing you access to her breast. An eager tongue flicked at her hardened nipple before your mouth latched onto her tit. Your free hand grasped at her other breast, moving the same fabric to the side so you can twist her nipple between your fingers.

Cordelia's breath hitched, back briefly arching from the ground as you gave her chest the attention she was craving.

"Fuck, I need more. It's not enough," she whimpered as her hips just barely bucked below you.

"Mmm, who's the needy one now?" You mumbled, sending wet kisses down past her navel.

Cordelia wrapped a hand in your hair, pulling slightly at the strands just enough to elicit a moan from you, and force your face to look up at her.

"How about you just use that pretty little mouth to fuck me."

You only smirked at her words as you returned to kissing along her body, but stopping along her hip bone to leave fresh love bites along her porcelain skin.

Cordelia squirmed when your head reached her lace panties. Her body ached for you. Hips bucked in anticipation as your teeth took hold of her panties, slowly sliding the thin fabric down her legs.

Your eyes never left hers as you kissed your way up her calves, across her inner thighs, and over to her bare wet pussy. You had never seen her so wet before, and you couldn't wait to taste her dripping cunt.

Your tongue licked the strip up her folds, Cordelia immediately raking her fingers through your hair. You circled her clit slowly and meticulously that forced a sinful moan out of the witch.

"Just like that—" Her smooth legs held you close, while her fingers held your head right where she wanted you.

Cordelia was quick to fall into a blissful state as you lavished her cunt, the fireplace behind you crackling loudly, flames growing brighter the more pleasure you gave Cordelia.

"M-more, I need more! Please," the sound of your lover begging only encouraged you to give her everything she desired.

A single finger easily slid past her entrance covered in arousal, the added sensation leaving Cordelia breathless. As you multitasked, tongue swiping at her clit and finger slowly sliding in and out of her, Cordelia's back arched ever so slightly with quiet whimpers escaping past her lips.

You couldn't help but gaze at the woman in front of you, the way her porcelain skin flowed under the firelight. The way her body squirmed at your touch. And you couldn't help but hum in approval when the grip on your hair tightened.

"Fuck, I need more! Baby please!"

A second finger slid inside her cunt, instantly finding the soft spot with each thrust that had elongated moans reverberating off the dimly lit walls.

Cordelia could feel her body heating up, beads of sweat forming along her chest and forehead, both from warmth from the fire and her own body working itself up from pleasure.

"How's that feel, baby?" You sweetly asked, eyes noting every movement Cordelia made.

"Soo good," the blondes breath was shaky and low.

You picked up your pace against her cunt, ignoring the strain you felt against your forearm as you worked your way to give Cordelia the best treatment she deserves.

Cordelia could feel the welcoming knot in her abdomen, fingers gripping onto your hair to keep your head in place. The witch wasn't taking any chances of you pulling away and making her wait to finish.

"I'm so close.." Her eyes grew bright from the dancing flames as her gaze fell upon you between her legs.

"Let go, baby."

Cordelia's legs stiffened around you, a sharp gasp followed by the roaring of the fireplace behind you let you know that the witch was at her peak. Her back had lifted from the floor, toes curling, and fingers pulling at your hair.

"Fuck!"

The blonde was unable to form a full sentence as she came along your fingers that refused to stop, allowing your lover to ride her high as long as possible.

You hummed as you tasted her along your tongue, slowing your movements little by little on her cunt. Cordelia's vision went blurry, chest riding and falling rapidly as she attempted to catch her breath.

"Okay, okay— I can't—" Cordelia pulled at your hair, forcing your head away from her dripping pussy.

You swiped at your bottom lip with a smirk, immediately crawling your way up her lightly freckled body to engulf her in a heated kiss. You were quick to straddle her, hands fiddling with her tits as her tongue dipped into your mouth.

Her own hands roamed your body, sliding down your sides before grabbing hold of your hips and pulling you the rest of the way down to her. Your wet pussy pressed against her own, and your hips couldn't help but needlessly grind down against her.

"Oh my god..." your words were breathless into the kiss.

Her grip was tight along your hips, manicured nails ever so slightly digging into your skin as she guided you back and forth.

"That feels so good," you whimpered.

Cordelia was already sensitive due to her previous orgasm, but the newfound pleasure from your clit grinding against hers had her eager to chase after another high.

"Let me see you, baby." Cordelia was not only eager to reach another orgasm, but she was even more eager to watch you grind yourself against her.

With one last kiss to her lips, and gently pulling at her lower as you lifted up, Cordelia's chestnut eyes danced over your figure.

There was nothing the witch loved more than to see you on top of her. The way your hair fell around your face, the slight jiggle in your tits as you moved, and the way your hips needlessly moved as you pleasured yourself on her.

"You're so damn beautiful," her hands dipped behind you, grabbing a steady hold of your ass.

Your own hands squeezed at her tits as you held yourself together, a loud hum escaping your throat at her words as your own mouth was unable to form a sentence.

"Just like that, baby. You're doing so good."

You could feel the heat creep onto your cheeks, not from the roaring fireplace behind you, but from the words coming from Cordelia's lips.

She loved praising you and admiring you just as much as you loved to hear it from her. It only made you want to work harder, do your best to ensure you would hear those words again.

You could feel your legs begin to stiffen and your hips start moving at their own pace, and you could feel yourself getting worked up towards your release.

You easily slid across Cordelia's soaked pussy, low moans filling the room as the both of you felt the pleasure only increase.

"So..close..." you whimpered.

"Not yet, baby. I'm almost there. Just a little bit longer."

Cordelia's nails dragged along your hips, leaving minor scratches in their wake that only elicited another moan from you as you lazily nodded your head at her words.

Your stomach tightened and you knew you could finish right then and there, but if Cordelia said to wait, then you would wait for her. You love when you came together. The way your bodies would orgasm at the same time, filling you both with a feeling of euphoria and bliss.

"I can't— 'Delia, please," you whined.

Cordelia's head fell back, mouth agape as her own hips moved in the opposite directions yours did to speed up the process.

It didn't take long thereafter for the witch to nod her head rapidly, moans becoming more consistent as she hurried quickly towards her release.

"Fuck! Come with me!" The words flew from her mouth just before she pulled her bottom lip sharply between her teeth.

Cordelia's legs shook while your breathing stopped, all sounds coming from you going silent as you came along Cordelia's cunt. The blonde followed you soon after, eyebrows knitting as her grip along your hips never ceased.

The flames from the dimly lit candles spread throughout the room went out in a flash, only the fire from the fireplace cascading a glow over both you and Cordelia.

You gasped as you finally caught your breath, Cordelia loosening her grip on you to instead ease up your shaky movements. Your body shook as Cordelia's hands slid to your back, urging your body forward to press her lips against yours.

Your breasts fell in line with Cordelia's as your hands slid to her slim waist. The blonde couldn't help but close her legs, squeezing her thighs tightly together as your lips were pressed together as one.

Cordelia sighed after you broke from the kiss for air, your head immediately falling to the crook of her neck. Her fingers ran tender lines up and down your back as you gave her neck a tender kiss, both of you silently laying there in each other's arms.

The witch was expecting the effects of the potion to wear off by now, but grew curious as to why when she was pressing her thighs together, that she felt the same ache between her thighs as before.

She needed more. Craved for more. Desired more.

You could feel the woman move slightly beneath you, but she gave you no chance to think on it when she expertly flipped the two of you over, eliciting an unexpected gasp from you. The woman now sat on top of you, eyes completely filled with desire as she lowered her lips to hover just centimeters over yours.

"Oh I'm not done just yet." A wicked smirk toyed at her lips, mascara covered eyelashes fluttering as she lowered her tone next to your ear. "I want to ride your face. To feel you lavish every inch of me. To come along your tongue as my fingers play with your pussy."

You felt the same ache she did, the need for more pushing you to force your lips back against hers in a heated kiss that left both of you feeling feral.

If that's what Cordelia wanted, you were going to give it to her... and so much more.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

CURSED (nsfw)

billie dean howard x gn!reader, word count 1.2k

the premiere of the new season of billie's show gets rescheduled last minute, but you have a way to take her mind off the disappointment.

A harsh silence enveloped the two of you. You were sitting at the edge of Billie’s bed, and you watched as she set her phone down on the vanity and began to pace the length of the room. 

The premiere of her show had been rescheduled on short notice. You were meant to fly out with her tomorrow for press meetings, interviews, every opportunity for recognition Billie deserved for her work. Your suitcases were packed and ready at the foot of the bed. 

Billie looked into the mirror of the vanity, sighing as she fixed a non-existent flaw of her eye makeup with the edge of her pale pink acrylics. 

You were at a loss for what to do – you had tried comforting her verbally, but she had barely said a word to you in the minutes after receiving the call. She got like this often when she was upset, silent and uninterested and cynical. 

You stood from the bed. Tentatively you stepped toward her. You placed your hands on her waist when you came up behind her, resting your chin on her shoulder and watching her reflection in the mirror. 

Disappointment swam in her eyes as she stared unfocused into her own reflection. You knew how much she had been looking forward to the premiere. Even if it would take place in a few weeks instead of tomorrow, the two of you had been planning this weekend for months. 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, “that it was canceled. I know how excited you were.” 

Billie nodded, taking one of your hands in her own. She offered you a halfhearted smile in the reflection of the mirror. “You didn’t cause it, don’t apologize.” 

In response, you pressed a kiss to her neck, the junction where her neck met her shoulder. After a moment you kissed her again, and began to move up her neck, trailing kisses up to her jaw. You felt her relax slightly under your touch, a great sigh leaving her chest. 

Billie turned in your arms. She kissed you, bringing a hand up to rest at your jaw and looping her arms around you. The kiss was almost lazy, natural and reflexive to the two of you. You were overcome by the love evident in her touch. 

She pulled away only for a moment before capturing your lips again. This time, you felt hunger in her embrace – in the way her lips met yours in a way dripping with desperation, in the way she was backing you towards the bed. 

You denied your instinct to let her push you onto the bed – you wanted this, and she did too, but you wanted to give her more. You wanted her to feel the same euphoria she often gave you before herself, especially after the evening’s disappointment. She needed distraction, as was evident in every moment you spent in her arms, and you were always willing to give it. 

You turned her, reversing your positions. A look of surprise came over her features as the backs of her thighs pressed against the bed. 

You hadn’t said anything, but she nodded at the proposed switch in roles, and when you tried to push her down onto the bed, she let you. Billie pulled you down on top of her, slipping her hands under the hem of your shirt and letting them travel up your back. In a moment of impatience she pulled your shirt off and tossed it to the floor. 

You grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. “Keep them there,” you warned her with a stern look, and she smiled at you in amusement. You hardly ever took dominance over her, it was foreign to both of you, but you were enjoying it. 

“This is new,” she taunted, unserious, yet you could see the desire clawing at her through the mask of her ego. “You’re learning, and so well.” 

You shook your head, brushing off her comment. You didn’t give her the satisfaction of an answer, pulling off her blouse and attaching your lips to her chest. Her breath caught as you trailed kisses down her sternum, nipping at her chest, leaving marks in your wake as you traveled down her abdomen. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmured into her skin, and a slight blush overtook her features. She shifted restlessly – her anticipation was evident, beautiful in the fervor with which she needed you. You understood why she was usually so addicted to you underneath her, you were drunk on the power of having her need nothing in the world but you. 

You moved between her legs, and instinctively her hips bucked toward you. As you pulled the rest of her clothes off she let out another sigh, this time out of pleasure, out of desire. 

With air-light touches you caressed her thighs. Slowly you kissed up the length of them, watching her expression closely. Desperation overtook her features, and her breath was shaky. One of her hands had moved to weave into your hair, a wordless plea for your attention. 

Just as she thought relief would finally come between her thighs, you moved away. With a look of satisfaction you climbed back up her body, straddling her, leaning down to kiss her. 

“What are you doing?” she asked in a whine. No one ever denied Billie anything, especially you. 

You shrugged. You trailed your hand down her abdomen, let it rest at her hip as you watched her squirm. “Beg.” 

She scoffed. She shook her head. “I’m not begging.” 

With a tantalizing smile you moved your hands away. Her only form of contact was the way you were straddling her. “Prove how much you want this. Beg for it, or you get nothing.” 

She sighed, and desire won over her pride, though it was not without a battle of ego. “Please,” she said. “Please, I need this. You know I need this, I need you.” 

You considered her words a victory, one of the scarce victories of dominance you took over her. In reward you slipped back between her legs. Finally relief came to her, your tongue sliding through her wetness. Billie moaned, her hips bucking into you again. You held them down, circling your arms around her tense thighs. 

You focused yourself on her clit, noting every response her body gave to your ministrations. Her moans, her whines let freely go as you slipped two fingers into her. She gasped, her new grip in your hair tightening dramatically as you set a pace that was quickly ruining her. 

Though earlier she had been utterly opposed that you’d made her beg, quiet pleas spilled from her lips as you brought her closer to the edge. Your name on her tongue like a curse, like poison you would drink from the fountain of your devotion. 

“Cum for me,” you murmured when she was close, and her body responded immediately – you coaxed her through her climax, the pace of your tongue and your hand working in sequence to prolong it as much as you could for her. 

When she came down from it, you pulled away. You laid at her side, pulling her into you to press a kiss to her shoulder and then to her lips, the two of you engulfed in the softness of her newfound peace. Billie relaxed into your embrace, letting you hold her as exhaustion overtook her. Peace found you both in inexplicable wonder, anxiety cursed in your devotion.

[eventually27]

kit x female reader 🫣 like gentle smut pretty please

💛💚💙🩵

Morning bliss..

You wake up before kit has to go to work and express your love for each other.

(Warnings: smut, foreplay intercourse)

You turned around to look at the clock it was 4.30 am, You tried to stay still and not wake Kit as he had to get up for work soon, but you couldnt get back to sleep, you couldn't resist the urge, you turned so you could see Kits face, he looked so cute when he was sleeping, the moonlight illuminated half of his face, he looked so peaceful.

As you turned back over to try and fall back asleep, you felt Kit move, "suga you ok?" Kit stretched his arm over to pull you in to cuddle you from behind, "Sorry baby, I didn't mean to disturb you, I just woke up after a dream" you loved the warm feeling of being wrapped up in Kits arms, he was the greatest human blanket. "Don't be silly, baby, it's OK. This is way better than any dream I was having," he whispered gently in your ear. It sent goosebumps all over your body. You couldn't help but let out a small gasp. Kit ran his hand across your thigh, feeling your goosebumps. "Did you like that, darlin?" He covered your cheek and neck in kisses, he knew what effect he was having on you, your body covered in goosebumps, he could see your nipples hard through your vest top. Kit pushed his body up against yours, your cheeks pressing right against his semi hard buldge, you felt an ache between your legs, he kissed your neck slowly, all the way down to your shoulder and across your collar bone, you started to grind up against him, you could feel him getting harder which made your ache deeper. Kit moved his hand and pushed your knees apart. He ran his thumb over your pulsing clit causing you to moan, "you like that suga?" Kits whispered as he began to rub between your legs, you felt his cock twitch up against you as he felt the wetness of your underwear, "yes baby I love it", you turned your head so your lips could meet Kits, you kissed slowly but passionately, you loved the taste of him, the feel of his tounge. "Are you ready for me, suga?" Kit rolled you onto your back. You nodded while fixated of his beautiful brown eyes. You watched as he pulled his boxers down, his body lit by the moonlight, his hardness exposed, you couldn't wait to feel him inside of you, it really was different doing it with somebody you truly loved and who truly loved you. Kit gentle kissed you on the lips as he pushed himself inside of you. You both let out a harmonized moan as he got further and further inside of you. He fitted perfectly as if you were made for each other. Kit linked his hands in yours and pushed them into the mattress as he sped up his pace. He looked into your eyes. He loved to see the pleasure he was creating. You watched him, biting his lip, you wrapped your legs around him, to push him in as deep as he could go, you both let out a moan, every thrust was sending shocks through your body, his pelvis hitting your clit with every thrust, you loved watching Kit as he looked down to see himself slide in and out of you, "suga, you feel amazing I can't hold on for much longer, I want you to cum for me darlin" Kit placed his forhead on yours and kissed your lips, "cum for me baby" he whispered in your ear, this made your whole body tingle from head to toe, you felt the pleasure take over your body, you felt yourself tighten around Kit inside of you, he moaned as he also was consumed by pleasure, you both shared this moment together, moaning eachothers names until you were both paralysed by pleasure. "That's the kinda wake up call I could get used to." Kit laughed as you laid in eachothers arms.

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

🧡 - blurb: give me a character and a topic/situation and i’ll write a blurb about it!

Hello :) thoughts on fem reader comforting Maggie Esmeralda (after Jimmy flipped a switch and started drinking), and then they run away together, because i just think she deserved better 😔

“look, i know you really liked him. but… you can do so much better than him. and so much better than this place,” you said, leaning your head against maggie’s shoulder, your hand slowly inching closer to hers.

“maybe you’re right… but still, where would i even go? i don’t have a home, i don’t have anyone.”

“that’s not true, maggie. you have me. i’ll follow you wherever you go,” you smiled softly, your pinky finger intertwining with hers.

maggie looked down at your hand and smiled to herself. turning to look back at you, she saw the earnest look in your eyes. you truly meant what you said, you’d follow her anywhere. and just knowing that meant more to her than you would ever know.

maggie’s smile grew, her hand moving to hold your hand in hers. “so let’s go. just you and me. i don’t care where we end up. as long as we’re together, i’ll always have a home.”

tags: @jamespotterslover @tates-radio @hallecarey1 @madisonsslave @evilcr0ne @hockstterrs @milly-louise @larawrrites

[sawyerconfort]

the coven when you're taking the seven wonders test...

SHE'S BACK AGAIN!

And with Coven headcannons! Yay, who cheered?

No one asked for that one specifically, but in my mind it sounded like a really great idea, so... Hope you liked it!

Trying my best to come back with more posts in a row, so... Get ready!

Maybe today there's one more, but I'm not sure, so... Stay tuned!

Enjoy!

Requests open but please be gentle and please give me some time!

------------------------------------------

The Coven and Kyle at The Seven Wonders Test (Young!Reader, just for the record!)

Cordelia Goode, Fiona Goode, Zoe Benson, Madison Montgomery, Misty Day, Nan, Queenie, Myrtle Snow, Mallory, Marie Laveau and Kyle Spencer!

Cordelia Goode

I've spoken countless times about how naturally good Cordelia is.

So, it's not news that she will fully support you as long as you decide to even take the test.

But, of course, she's afraid that something will go wrong along the way (trauma from Misty's not-returning scene in Coven, perhaps?)

I mean, if she's the Supreme, she has enough reasons and memories to be scared for you.

Cordelia is the type of person who will practice day after day with you, every spell, every gift, whatever you need her to do, she will do it.

But she'll also make sure to give you a few good seconds of rest, distracting you from the tension and madness of using your powers at full range.

"It's okay honey, you know you're capable of passing the test, and I trust you for that either."

Fiona Goode

Fiona will never admit it, but she's all for you testing the Seven Wonders.

Sure, it means she'll probably fall and be replaced by you, but she really doesn't care.

I completely see a chaotic scenario where Fiona cheats on the test just so you can win.

And then, in her selfless little way, she tries her hardest to convince the others that you deserved the victory on your own merits.

She'll probably just be watching you in the training phase, watching your attempts to do well in one Wonder or another, giggling and pondering over the perfect cheat.

Fiona is clearly so excited for you to try that she'll end up celebrating too loudly when you make it past the first try.

And, again, she will pretend that nothing happened.

"Ah, come on, don't be silly, (Y\N). You're dating the Supreme, of course you'll win that stupid test."

Zoe Benson

I think Zoe would be a lot like Cordelia in that sort of way.

But she would also be very demanding so that you could better train your skills.

Zoe would stay by your side the entire time, relieving all the insecurities of you. She has to make sure you are mentally prepared for this.

When she sees that you feel down about failing, she will try to distract you.

And she will definitely celebrate every achievement you have during the test.

And she would certainly tend to all your wounds, refusing to let you die.

"You can do it, my love. I trust you."

Madison Montgomery

Just as Zoe would behave like Cordelia, I think Madison would behave like Fiona.

She would definitely do anything for you to win.

Anything at all.

But be prepared for a lot of tireless training, daily use of magic to be able to displace your other competitors and, of course, a lot of orders coming from Madison.

I don't think she would cheat for you to win.

I mean, not if it's not strictly necessary.

And if you fail any of the tests, she'll get tough until she's away from the audience.

Madison would never admit it out loud, but there's no way she'd let you die.

"Come on, (Y\N), we have to win this fucking test!"

Misty Day

I'm sure Misty would be a little wary of you deciding to test the Seven Wonders.

But she would equally trust you and use every resource to cheer you up.

Words of affirmation when you feel down and unsure of your potential.

She making you rest as much as possible, especially when the test day is close.

She knows how difficult it can be to prepare for this kind of thing.

You can be sure that she would immediately offer to Concilium.

And that she would take care of you if you were injured, no matter how serious it was.

"Ya can do it, (Y\N), my dear, ya just need confidence."

Nan

Nan is the purest soul possible.

And she puts so much effort into cheering you up that it gets even better.

She's afraid you'll end up failing the test, but she tries to hide it as much as she can so you don't notice.

She will DEFINITELY cheat at Concilium by helping you better control people's minds.

Of course, she's so good at it that nobody notices, after all.

I see her totally getting into trouble with people who try to cheat you to lose on purpose.

"Concentrate, love. Remember what I taught you, right? You can do it!"

Queenie

Okay, Queenie would probably be totally opposed to you taking the Seven Wonders test.

She's been there, she knows how dangerous it can get.

And honestly, she'd rather you join her in voodoo, which is less dangerous.

But even so, I think she would consider the fact that the test would make you happy, so why not?

Ultimately, Queenie would be one of the most present people when it comes to rooting for you.

She would encourage you so much that Cordelia would have to ask her not to break your concentration halfway through.

I see her calling your opponents all the ugliest names possible, just for the pleasure of knowing you're competing.

I don't think she would cheat, she would just protect you from the risks of dying in the middle of the test, and that's not necessarily cheating.

"Come on, love! You can do it! Show them how badass you can be!"

Myrtle Snow

Just the fact that you agree to take the test is a headache for Myrtle.

Like, she knows you're capable, but with all the experience and knowledge she's gained about witches on the Council, is enough to worry her for weeks.

However, she is not opposed to your wanting to take the test.

She will do her best to maintain a neutral posture.

But this is Myrtle Snow we're talking about, so... I don't guarantee she'd hold out until the end.

She would definitely ask you to stop when she sees you are about to get hurt.

And, of course, she would take care of you when she saw that your injuries and your disappointment at not passing the test took the reins of the situation.

"Don't worry, my dear, you did what you could. I still think you'd make a great Supreme, no test necessary."

Mallory

Time to clarify that Mallory is an overprotective girlfriend.

But at the same time, she would support you to the fullest.

She would do anything to help you train for the test, that includes spells, gifts, potions, whatever.

Proud girlfriend on the way!

I also see Cordelia or one of the girls having to ask her to let you focus and stop cheering too loudly.

And when you get hurt, she'll probably take care of you and go back in time countless times just so you don't die.

"It's okay, my love. It's okay, you're okay. And I'm proud of you, so proud."

Marie Laveau

Marie would also be totally opposed to the idea of ​​you trying on the test.

Her rivalry with witches kind of plays into that at first.

But I think your self-assurance and the trust she feels for you changes that idea in a short time.

Marie hates to admit it, but she is proud to see you blossoming new powers.

She will DEFINITELY try her hardest to cheat, on the sly of course.

All for you, in the end, it's worth it.

She will use all of her powers to heal your wounds and keep you from dying.

And without admitting it, too, she'd learn to like the Coven witches better.

"Not to brag, but you're the hottest of the contestants, you're sure to win..."

Kyle Spencer

Kyle was definitely going to be one of your biggest supporters.

Okay, okay, he can't do much, for obvious reasons.

But just having his company there is enough.

He'll be watching you train the entire time, fascinated by your skills.

And he'll give you kisses and cuddles to show that he's proud of you.

The test was going to go well because you made him promise to hold on.

And he did it solely for you.

Sure, some meltdowns and some excessive screaming because he really can't contain himself sometimes, but that's okay.

At least, he did his best.

"Proud. I'm proud of you. (Y\N)."

[random-imagines-blog]

Personality Ransack {Kit Walker x Reader OneShot} 

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 3130 Summary: The 'Serial Killer' newcomer is forced into close quarters with you. Is something going to come of this? Warnings: Depression, talk of self harm, evil doctors, Sister Jude, talk of serial killers, talk of murder.

The rumor mill was spinning at full force inside of the asylum. Bloody Face was coming. The serial killer that made the news that you caught snippets of occasionally from the attendants talking about it. One of them had even let you see a newspaper once, and you could remember the headline clearly. ‘BLOODYFACE ON A RAMPAGE.’ Killed women, skinning them. It was a horrifying thing and yet - you lived in one of the most horrifying places of all. Something like that was hardly enough to even phase you.

 

You caught a glimpse of him once, after he had arrived. He was a pale boy, handsome, with short blonde curls. He didn’t look like the monster that everyone thought that he was. You regarded him with interest, looking him up and down in the hospital gown that he wore, since he wasn’t trusted to have his own clothes yet. How demeaning. It was as if this place was built with the intention of creating monsters. That certainly seemed to be Dr Arden’s goal.  

Of course, Shelley was all over him before he could even get his bearings, that slut. You never liked her much, she’d do anything to get what she desires, do anyone to fulfill her desires too. You watched their interaction, your eyes rolling as she stroked the boy’s bare back, but chuckled to yourself when he pushed her away. Good boy. The whole thing got turned around, however, when Spivey decided to open his fat mouth. That was never a good thing and it ended up in the new boy being put in isolation. 

You forgot about him for the next couple of days. Time passed; it always does. And you have got someone new to observe in the meantime. Lana Winters. Like everyone else in here, she protested that she wasn’t crazy. That she didn’t belong here. You hoped that she would keep that spirit. She would need it. You knew better than anybody that no one escaped from here alive - either by release or by running away.  

It was time for bed, and you solemnly made your way to your room, shuffling like all of the others, blending in with them. This place had the amazing ability to just suck the soul out of anyone who stepped foot in it. That explained Sister Jude. But it also explained the rest of the patients here. Given sedatives instead of real medicine. The way that they never melted under your tongue ... it was enough to make you feel sick. To act sleepy to fool them and then spit them out. You slept better without them, relaxed better without the feeling of being paralyzed. 

You were not sleepy now, but for a moment, you thought that you might have been dreaming. For in your room, there was now another bed, with the new boy on it, the leather straps pulled tight around his wrists and ankles. Sister Jude stood by the bed, her hands crossed in front of her, that sour lemon expression permanently on her face. “Ahh, Miss y/l/n,” she said, as if you were old friends. “I’m glad that I caught you.” 

As if you had no other choice on where to go. You said nothing and looked at her, and then looked at the man that was on the bed. His eyes were wide, alert, staring right back at you with visible nervousness.  

“Mr. Walker here needs to be kept an eye on. As one of our longest-time patients, I think you are just the person to get him assimilated into life here, at Briarcliff. Teach him the rules, so he doesn’t get himself into any more trouble.” 

“Let me guess, the only open space among the men was with Spivy, and you couldn’t have them fighting again, could you? And no - you couldn’t put him in with Shelley for obvious reasons. Lana is too fresh; they might try to scheme. So, you stick him in here with me, because I’m tame?” 

Sister Jude’s expression seemed to become even more sour. You could see the wrinkles growing along her pursed lips. Her eyes narrowed at you, and you knew that she was going to give you a tongue-lashing, so you opened your mouth once more. 

“I believe it is time for bed, and wasn’t it you, Sister, who preached about the benefits of rest? I’d like to be left alone to pray for me, and for his poor soul before I retire,” You spoke, your eyes still on the old nun’s.  

“I’ll leave you to it,” Sister Jude said, folding her arms in front of her. “Do not even think about touching his restraints. They are for everyone’s protection - including his own.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it sister. I’m sure you’ve done what you feel is best,” you said, fighting the urge to roll your eyes once more. She didn’t believe you but at this moment, there was no other choice but to leave the two of you alone. She nodded, graciously, and then walked out of the room. It was closed and locked behind her, and you breathed out slowly, and walked up to the alleged serial killer. You looked down at him, your head tilted. “Hello.” 

“- uhm - hello,” he said, his accent sounding more southern than you had originally expected.  

“You kill all them girls?” You asked. “I have to ask, since we’re going to be sharing a room and all. I need to know if I can sleep around you.” 

He looked at you, bewildered, unable to calm all the way down. “I didn’t kill anybody. I swear.”  

“Alright,” You nodded. “I’m y/n, by the way. What can I call you? Bloody Face - just sounds stupid.” 

“My name ... is Kit." He told you. His voice was soft, too. Almost sweet sounding.  

“Hi Kit,” you said, letting the name roll on your tongue. You decided that you liked the way it sounded. “That doesn’t look comfortable, are the restraints on tight?” 

“A bit,” He admitted, trying to wiggle his fingers but having trouble doing so. You moved closer to his side, looking at the wrist restraints. They were clearly cutting off circulation, making you tut.  

“I can’t take them off because they’ll probably come check you in the morning but -” You unbuckled it, and then redid it so that it was a little bit looser. He was still confined, he couldn’t get his hand out, but he wasn’t struggling either. You went around and did it to all of his restraints. “There, that should be a little bit better.” 

“Thank you,” he said, his eyes focusing on you, dark brown and pretty, even in the low light. “Can I ask - what ya in here for?” 

Your face fell at the question. You were expecting it, of course he would have been curious. “Depression,” You explained. “I ... I attempted to kill myself and rather than take care of me, my family through me in here. That and my social anxiety, I never liked being around a bunch of people, I’m ... shy. And I guess that makes me different enough to be considered insane. But you don’t need to hear my sob story, I know you got one of your own, Kit.” 

He actually looked concerned for you. The one known as Bloody Face, was pitying you. It, like his voice, seemed almost like a sweet gesture. 

After adjusting his ankle cuffs as well, you went to your own bed, the uncomfortable cot with the thin and itchy blanket and the pillow that might as well not even exist. “I guess you’re lucky. I might be the least dangerous person here. If you want to kill me, skin me, well, I probably wouldn’t even put up a fight if I’m being honest with you. I might even thank you for it.” 

“I won’t,” Kit said, less tense with the restraints loosened, only by one hole but regardless. This was the first show of kindness that he had in days. That he could even remember having, since his abduction by aliens. “I didn’t kill nobody. And I’m not going to start with you.” 

“Alright, if you change your mind,” You hummed in the dark. “I don’t know why but - I believe you, Kit. You don’t seem like the other monsters I’ve met in here.” 

“Thank you,” he said, genuinely. “I’m not - I’m not like them. I don’t belong here. I’d never, ever hurt my wife, or those other people.” 

“I don’t know if you’ve heard this yet but - I’m sorry for your loss, Kit. Really.”  

“I - haven’t,” he said, slowly. “Thanks ... y/n.” 

“You’re welcome,” you said. “Now - try to get some sleep. It’s the closest thing to an escape that you can do here.” 

He sighed in response. You understood. The feeling of this need to escape from this hospital where even the highest floors felt like a dungeon was enough to build a fire in anyone. The horrible robe that served as ‘attire’ until you were given clothes that felt more like barbed wire than actual fabric. Trying to be okay when everyone and everything is telling you that you’re not. You wished him sweet dreams, though it was unlikely that he would have them. There was nothing sweet about Briarcliff. 

“How do I stay sane?” You asked, thinking about Kit’s question. You were just glad that the sisters and the doctors weren’t around in the common room to hear that. You were laying on the couch, your legs over Kit’s lap. After spending a couple of days bunked together, you had grown close. He had told you everything about his experience - the aliens, the memory of coming too. And he talked a lot about his late wife. It was enough to make you cry with him at night, if only because you wished that someone had loved you the way that he had loved his wife. Maybe you would have been happier. Maybe you wouldn’t have ever stepped foot in this place at all. “I just killed the memories of everything that is outside of these walls. If everything alive and vibrant out there ceased to be, then this place isn’t too bad.” 

Kit frowned at this, relaxing back against the rock-hard couch cushions of the disgusting couch. It’s probably as old as Sister Jude herself. Jokes were constantly being made that this was the couch that she was conceived on. Stains older than that were on it too. “That’s - horrible,” he said. “There are bad things out there, sure, but it’s plenty bad in here too. These nuns - I don’t believe that Sister Jude has ever had a good thought in her life.” 

“That’s why she married Christ. No man would ever marry someone like her,” You commented, licking your lips as the craving for a cigarette came on strong. Sister Jude was making you quit as a punishment for the last time that you had self-harmed. It might be the nicest thing she’s ever done but it sure didn’t feel like it. As you brought your nails up to bite on them - oral fixation increasing - you looked over to Kit and saw that his dark eyes were watching your lips carefully. Like a seed of something had just been implanted in his mind, before he realized he was caught, and his intense gaze moved up to your eyes again. He chuckled a little, though you weren’t sure if he had heard the joke.  

“Yeah, probably,” he said, absent-mindedly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know what I saw out there was bad - but I gotta believe there’s still good out there. That one day, they’re going to find the real Bloody face. Even if I were to escape from here now, everyone gon’ hate me. And they need to get caught. I don’ care if they’re aliens or the devil himself. They need to get caught and pay for what they did to Alma.”  

“I hope they do,” You nodded. “I hope that your big optimism doesn’t get deflated in here. Everything else does.” 

You stopped biting at your nails and instead, you dug your teeth into your lip, biting off the smallest bit of loose skin there. It was a disgusting habit. You knew it. Everyone around here knew it. But dirty habits were the least of anyone’s problems around here.  

“You’re not like anyone else here,” Kit said, as if this had just occurred to him. You chuckled at that, crossing your ankles. 

“Yeah - too bad no one with any power around here gives a fuck about what you think. To them, I’m the sad waste of space.”  

“No one says that” Kit said, his frown turning into more of a grimace now. His eyes kept flicking down towards your lips as your teeth made small imprints on the thin skin. “‘cept you. Maybe that’s why you’re in here.” 

“What, cause I tell the truth?” You asked, raising an eyebrow, thinking about it for a second, and then continued on before he had a chance to reply. “That would make sense. That’s why you don’t see many politicians in places like this, don’t ya?”  

“No, I mean - ya don’t but, that’s not why I think you’re here,” he said, his voice soft as he looked at you. There was a look on his face that you saw here a lot. Yearning. But usually that look was directed at the doors, or at the windows. To the city outside of Briarcliff. To freedom. “I think you’re here cause you aren’t seeing the truth. You’re not seeing how ... special you really are.” 

Your breath felt like it got stuck for a minute inside of your throat. Special. Now, you had been called special a lot, but it was always in a demeaning way. In the ‘you’re not like other people’ kinda way. In the ‘You’re special and you have to go to this special place for a time, but as it turns out, you’re staying there forever because we can’t be bothered to take care of you’ kind of way. “And how am I special?” You asked, skeptically.  

Kit remained quiet for a second, and then his hand went through his curls. They managed to keep their shape, their luster, despite the awful shampoo that they let the patients use. It was an all in one, if that told you anything.  

“Because you -” he said, and he looked a bit guilty as the words came out of his mouth. “You brought sunshine in the darkest place imaginable.” 

Once more, it felt like your breath just decided to stop in place, cause a pileup, cleanup in aisle esophagus. “No,” you said, shaking your head. “I ain’t ever done something like that. You just haven’t gotten used to me yet, I think. You haven’t seen all the gloom that I’m capable of.” 

“Even now,” he said, his eyes looking deeply into your own, making you gulp. He was leaning a little closer, his eyes so strong and exceptional, it was intimidating. You weren’t afraid of him, but you were growing a little nervous about the power that his words could have on you. That they could perhaps make you feel something ... real. It felt like he was ransacking through your personality, and trying to steal the bad thoughts that made you ... you. “Ain’t no question about it. You’re makin it brighter in here.”  

It almost looked like he was going to kiss you. Your hearts were beating in sync - you could feel his pulse through the small connections that your skin had. Through your legs. His hand coming down to rest gently on your arm. But before you could even blink your eyes closed, Sister Jude stepped into the room, the clicking of her heels bringing time back up to speed. Kit leaned back against the sofa, guilt in his eyes, not that he would let you look at them properly after what had almost transpired. 

You were all ordered to get to your therapy session, or to the bakery in some cases. Bakery was preferred, even though it was a lot more work. It was less emotionally exhaustive than meeting with the doctors. Fortunately for you this was where you were headed, but Kit had to go to see Dr Arden. 

“Hey,” you said to Kit, putting your hand on his shoulder. He still looked like he was avoiding your eye, but that was alright, as long as he stopped to listen to you. “Good luck down there. Arden is...” 

“Evil,” Kit said, hollowly.  

“Yeah. Actually. That’s a good way of puttin’ it. But rememba - he can only hurt your body, Kit. He can’t hurt your mind unless you let him get in it. Don’t let him in there,” You warned, and your grip on his shoulder turned into a light caress, sending visible shivers up and down his spine. His eyes finally reached yours, and you could see that he was feeling a lot in that moment. Guilt, and yearning, and fear most of all. That fear wasn’t a weak thing, it was perfectly reasonable considering where he was going.  

“I won’t,” He nodded.  

You nodded back and you let go of him. You were meant to be his friend, nothing more. No one ever finds more than that in a place like this, in a hellhole. Besides, he was still mourning his wife, his entire life, you had to remind yourself.  

“See ya tonight,” he said, though it was phrased more like a question than a statement. 

“I’ll be searching for ya if I don’t,” You promised. “People go missin’ around here sometimes, I don’t want that to happen to you.” 

“Well, I won’t go willingly,” he said, giving you a soft and sheepish smile. “Just know that.” 

“I’ll remember,” You nodded. “I’ll see you tonight ... roommate.” 

“See ya tonight,” He repeated, more resolute this time, putting our almost-kiss behind you, just like you ought to do. You finally let him go entirely and moved towards the kitchen before Sister Jude would take her bony chicken-like hand and drag you there herself to start making the bread loaves. But you looked over your shoulder one more time, only to see Kit doing the same as he stood at the top of the staircase that went down to Arden’s office. He nodded at you. You nodded back. A pact to look out for one another was forged, and no matter what the relationship between you two might turn into, it was going to stay that way. 

[slut4evanpeters]

The other women

tate langdon x reader

based on "the other women" by lana del rey

warnings: angst

word count: 1.2k

notes: wrote this in the bathtub while listening to lana....maybe a little 🍃 was involved....

The days felt endless in the Murder House, stretched out in eternal dusk, punctuated only by stolen moments with Tate. For so long, you were his only solace, a quiet comfort in the night, a pair of haunted souls who clung to each other, bound by the same loneliness. You had found something rare and beautiful in him, a kind of love that didn’t need the warmth of daylight, a love that thrived in the darkness. He’d told you as much, promised you that in this house, you would always have each other.

But that was before her.

The Harmon family arrived one chilly October (?) evening, and everything changed. You felt a shift, a cold breeze that settled in your bones. You didn’t need to see Tate’s face to know that his attention was caught by her the moment she moved in. Violet. Even the sound of her name felt like an intrusion, an uninvited guest between you and him.

Days passed, and you could see the way he looked at her. He’d disappear for hours, drifting toward her room, slipping through walls just to catch a glimpse of her sitting on her bed, scribbling in her notebook, headphones on, oblivious to him. He was drawn to her in a way that was effortless and magnetic, the same way he had once been drawn to you. You’d once been that light for him. Now, you were nothing but a flickering candle in the shadow of something so much brighter.

One evening, after another day of him being away, you finally confronted him.

“Tate, where were you?” you asked, your voice barely hiding the hurt that sat, heavy and bitter, at the back of your throat. You were standing in the hallway, your arms folded, your eyes searching his for a glimpse of something familiar. Something that would tell you he was still yours.

He blinked, a small frown creasing his forehead. “Just…around,” he said, brushing past you. But you caught his wrist, desperate to keep him from slipping away.

“Around?” you repeated, bitterness coloring your tone. “Or with her?”

He looked at you, an unreadable look in his eyes, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he sighed, pulling his arm from your grasp. “You wouldn’t understand.”

You felt a pang in your chest, a sharp twist of jealousy and sorrow that you couldn’t shake. “I wouldn’t understand? Tate, I’ve been here with you. I am here with you. What does she have that I don’t?”

His gaze dropped to the floor, and for the first time, you saw it—the guilt, the hesitation. But there was something else, too, something that cut deeper than any knife.

“She’s…alive.” he said, his voice a whisper.

The word hit you like a punch to the gut. Alive. A word that meant everything in the house of the dead. You felt the cold realization settling in—you could never be what she was. She was real, tangible, and you were just a ghost. A reminder of everything he wanted but could never have.

“So that’s it?” you asked, voice breaking. “You’re just going to leave me, Tate?”

He looked at you with something close to pity, but there was no trace of regret. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted. “I just… I feel something when I’m around her. Something I haven’t felt in a long time.”

Your heart twisted, breaking in his hands as he stood there, speaking the truth that you’d dreaded. You wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him to choose you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words. Instead, you nodded, swallowing the bile rising in your throat.

He lingered, as though he wanted to say more, but then he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in the darkened hallway.

The nights became harder after that. He would come to you, always after he’d spent the day with her. You became the place he went to bury his guilt, to drown his uncertainty. He would hold you, his hands roaming, lips desperate against yours, but his touch was colder now, empty of the warmth it once held. You could feel it every time he left—pieces of him slipping away, fragments of the boy you once knew disappearing into the ether.

“Do you love her?” you asked him one night, the words escaping your lips before you could stop them. You were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, his arm draped over you in a way that felt suffocating.

He was silent for a long time, and then he spoke, voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know.”

It felt like a slap. You turned, looking at him, searching his face for any sign that he might still feel something for you, that you weren’t just a substitute, a convenience. But all you saw was conflict, a tangled mess of emotions that weren’t meant for you.

“Why do you keep coming back?” you whispered, tears threatening to spill over. “If you don’t know what you feel… why do you keep coming back to me?”

He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing. “Because…you’re familiar. You’re safe.”

Safe. The word made you feel hollow, like an afterthought. You were the comfort he turned to when things got too heavy with her, the steady presence he clung to when he couldn’t face his own feelings. But you were never the one he truly wanted.

“You’re using me,” you choked out, the realization hitting you like a wave. “I’m just… I’m just here because it’s easy.”

His eyes shot open, guilt flashing across his face. “No, that’s not-”

“Don’t lie to me, Tate,” you cut him off, voice trembling. “You love her. I can see it every time you look at her. You don’t look at me like that anymore.”

He tried to reach for you, but you pulled away, heart breaking with each step you took. “I love you,” he said softly, and for a moment, you almost believed him. Almost.

“Then why isn’t it enough?” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. You didn’t wait for his answer. You turned and left the room, your heart shattering with each step you took, knowing that he would go back to her, knowing that he would continue to look at her the way he once looked at you.

In the end, you resigned yourself to your role—the other woman, the forgotten ghost lingering in the halls, waiting for a boy who would never be yours. You kept your room meticulously clean, arranged fresh flowers in every corner, wore the scent he loved, all for the rare moments when he would slip away from her to be with you. But every time he held you, you felt the emptiness, the absence of the boy you had loved. The boy who had once promised you forever.

And as the years wore on, you found yourself alone more often than not, crying into the quiet, knowing that no matter how hard you tried, you would always be the second choice, the one he would leave behind. The one he would never love the way he loved her.

The other woman.

[evanpfics]

New Photo Of Evan Peters. Hope he's doing okay.

Found On: Instagram (brevanpeters)