#asylum ahs

[stakethroughyou]

me if my mom finds my journal

[izzy444angel]

asylum

[americanwh0rerstory]

KINKTOBER DAY TWO

Brat Taming - Kit Walker

dom!reader x bratty!kit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

this was gonna be a long night for kit.

[dangeroustaintedflawed]

[nobitchs-world]

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

[pisstiel]

i do have like a clergy kink but i need the outfits and attitudes to be serious. no fucking fishnet stockings or smoky eyes. the nuns and priests in my fantasies don't revel in being "naughty," they either provide solemn corporal punishment or they are so overwhelmed by lust that they give in to their desires with immense guilt. making it all porny just ruins the fantasy for me

[violet-harmon2011]

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

[redroses07]

real

[thewitchelm]

JESSICA LANGE photographed by ANTONIO LOPEZ, 1970s

[nine-aetharia]

i need swifties to shut the fuck up about 'oh so kendrick's disses can be analyzed for hidden meanings but we can't do the same for taylor songs' yeah bc that's not isolated to kendrick. subliminals and entendres abound in rap. taylor swift songs are as deep as a puddle while youre wearing flip flops and your feet still arent wet

[darkshinynight]

[devilwearsdi0r]

showing off my tate and violet hoodie >ᴗ<!!

[fear-is-truth]

⋆𐙚 ₊ no nut november .ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ jimmy darling ‧ james march ‧ kai anderson ‧ peter maximoff

tate langdon ── 11/04

acts like he’s on board with the challenge at first, but it doesn’t take long for the strain to start showing. he’s not used to this level of restraint—especially when it’s you asking him.

managed to make it a few days but is visibly frustrated whenever he sees you, especially if you’re walking around wearing his sweater, licking a lollipop or basically just breathing and existing.

makes whiny complaints about how pointless this is. absolutely tries to cop a feel here and there.

after you caught him jerking off into your panties, he tries to convince you to just drop the whole idea so he can fuck you properly.

if all else fails, tate will try to initiate when you’re half-asleep. you’ll wake up to find him sidling closer, hands roaming, whispering in your ear about how “you can’t really mean this.”

it’s only day four, and tate’s already driving himself (and you) crazy. he trails behind you through every room in the house, whining about how “this whole challenge is fucking stupid.” and “what’d you expect me to do when you’re at school, huh? can’t even jerk off,” he complains, dragging his feet as he follows you into the kitchen. you laugh a little, shaking your head as you reach for a glass of water.

“it’s not that hard, tate. you’ll be fine,” you tell him, but you can feel his eyes trailing down, settling on your legs and the edge of your sundress.

“yeah?” before you can react, he’s wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his chest to your back and pulling you close. he’s warm, and his hands slide down to rest on your hips, pulling you back against him. you can feel him grinding slowly, enough to make you feel the hard outline of his cock press against your ass.

“tate,” you warn, but he just huffs in indignation, burying his face in your shoulder. “you’re killing me, is that what you want?” he whines, but you reach back and give him a gentle shove, slipping out of his arms. “you’re already dead, tate.” he watches you, eyes shiny with hurt and longing before shoving his hands in his pockets and sulking off.

kit walker ── 11/15

kit genuinely tries, especially since you’re the one who proposed the challenge, but it’s hard. he’s always been affectionate and has a naturally high sex drive, so this test of willpower isn’t easy for him.

he’s restless and a little grumpy, occasionally making passing comments like, “don’t know how you expect me to do this” with a plaintive sigh that make it clear he’s barely holding it together.

kit has been sitting at the kitchen table for the past half hour, cigarette in hand, eyes locked on you the entire time as you’re working on a blueberry pie. it’s been two long weeks of restraint, and he’s been doing his best to keep his promise—but right now, watching you bustle around while wearing a apron, he feels his patience slipping.

finally, he stands, moving to the window above the sink and pulling open the blinds just enough to check the yard. outside, the kids are laughing and running, entirely preoccupied. satisfied, he lets the blinds fall back into place, turning his attention fully on you.

you look over your shoulder as he steps up behind you, that barely concealed hunger in his eye. “you hungry?” you ask, feigning innocence as you press the last bit of dough into the pie tin. he huffs a low laugh, his hands already slipping around your waist. “mhm. you can say that. not for pie, though.” he murmurs, voice vibrating against your cheek.

you raise an eyebrow, half-smiling as you remind him, “i thought you were trying to hold out.” kit lets his hands settle on your hips, pulling you back against him. “i was,” he says, dropping his head to press a kiss just below your ear, “but i don’t think i can keep it up anymore. i’ve been watchin’ you all afternoon, and all i can think about is you.”

his lips trail slowly along your neck as his fingers trace along the curves of your ass. “the kids’ll be fine outside,” he coos. “think it’s time i tapped out of this whole challenge,” and before you can protest, his mouth is on yours, firm and warm, every bit of his two-week restraint unraveling.

pre death .ᐟ kyle spencer ── completed

self control king. his frat brothers are amazed he’s lasted, even with all their attempts to sabotage him.

they constantly send him twitter porn links, show him porn mags or try to bribe you to help make him crack. but kyle doesn’t even budge.

you still have your daily cuddling routine, and he eats you out regularly because he’s a selfless boyfriend.

kyle’s fraternity decided to make a big deal out of the “no nut november trend”. they all took the challenge together, but one by one, his frat brothers dropped out, and by week four, kyle’s the last man still standing. you watch your boyfriend with a mix of admiration and slight frustration. it’s not that you want him to give in; it’s just… maybe you wouldn’t mind if he wanted to, at least a little.

you’re sitting with him in his room one night, the faint buzz of a party downstairs, but kyle’s paying it no mind. he’s stretched out on his bed, flipping through a class notebook, looking completely unbothered. you watch him for a moment, then sighs.

“kyle, i don’t know how you do it,”

he smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. “what can i say? i’ve got a will of steel.” he glances back down at his notes.

“so… when december starts, are you still planning on being all celibate and zen?”

he chuckles, his cheeks going a little pink. “not gonna lie, i’m already counting down the hours,” he admits, leaning in closer. “because the second november ends, i’m not holding back. if i survived this month, trust me—destroy dick december will be a breeze.”

you can’t help but laugh, and he leans in to give you a quick kiss, his hand finding yours. “but hey,” he says, voice softer, “it’s only easy because you make it worth waiting for.”

jimmy darling ── 11/06

initially tries to go along with the challenge because he respects you and doesn’t want to disappoint you.

but he’s also someone who thrives on touch, so it’s practically torture for him from the start.

you’ll catch him staring at you, and he gets visibly antsy, especially if you’re wearing something cute or revealing.

six days. that’s how long jimmy manages to last. he tries to keep his promise to you, he really does, but it’s no use. every time he sees you around the camp, especially when you’re dressed up in a leotard for a performance or just leaning close to help him with something, he gets that look in his eyes—hungry, smoldering, and unabashedly lustful.

it’s late, and you’re walking past jimmy’s caravan while carrying a basket of laundry when he finally snaps. he’s been watching you from afar, arms crossed and brows furrowed, looking like he’s pissed off about something. when you catch his eye, he’s already standing up and moving toward you like a missile.

“i can’t take this anymore, doll,” he whined, his breath reeking with the unmistakable smell of alcohol. “six days—feels like six damn years.” you laugh, shaking your head.

“jimmy, i told you it was just a challenge,” you tease, trying to keep a straight face. but he’s not having it. his hands settle on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest before he leans in, forehead resting against yours. “don’t care about any stupid fucking challenge. only care about you. i need you so bad,”

afterward, jimmy lets out a deep, satisfied sigh, resting his chin on your shoulder as you both try to catch your breath. slowly, he lets you slide back down to the ground, his arms loosening just enough for you to find your footing, though he doesn’t fully let go. you feel his lips press a lingering kiss to your neck, a lazy smirk spreading across his face.

“guess i lost,” his thumb rubbing small circles into your waist. he leans in closer, brushing his nose against yours. “but hell if it wasn’t worth it.”

james patrick march ── 11/24

james has self-control in spades, especially when it comes to his (ex) wife, elizabeth, who has often denied him for months at a time. so, he actually handles this challenge far better than you’d expect.

he channels his frustration elsewhere, like into his “hobbies” (aka his killing sprees around the hotel), which spike significantly during this time. murder brings him a similar orgasmic thrill, and he relies on that to keep himself satisfied.

despite the restraint, he never makes you feel pressured. james will hold your hand, kiss you chastely on the cheek, and even give you sweet little compliments, but that’s the extent of it.

you look up just as james steps into the room, wiping his hands with a bloodstained handkerchief, black eyes alight with the usual post-slaughter exhilaration. “ah, my darling,” he greets, voice smooth yet edged, like a blade still warm from a kill. your gaze falls to his hands, and he notices, lifting them for his own inspection. “a bit messier tonight, i’ll admit,” he murmurs with a sigh, dabbing at his knuckles, though the effort seems half-hearted.

“not even a night of indulgence can quiet the… urges you stir in me.”

he steps closer, fingers brushing your cheek, leaving the faintest trace of crimson on your skin. his hand lingers, flexing, as if he’s holding himself back. you smirk, leaning in to brush a kiss to his lips, there’s a metallic tang to it. james shudders, his hand bracing itself on the back of the couch, jaw clenching as if he’s struggling to restrain himself.

“is it really that difficult? i think you’re being a bit dramatic, dear.” the lilting coo of your voice, the sadistic intent behind it makes his cock twitch painfully in his trousers.

“you’re… tormenting me, truly,” he sighs in frustration. “this damnable month. all the blood in the world can’t satisfy what i truly crave.”

cult leader .ᐟ kai anderson ── completed

while some people might perceive him as a total sex fiend, kai has the self-discipline to pull this off easily, and he sees it as an experiment in control, something to elevate his focus.

claims that refraining from ejaculation is actually a tool for enhancing testosterone and will lecture the entire cult on the “benefits” of nnn. also brings up the heaven’s gate cult’s abstinence rule as a form of enlightenment and compares his self-control to “channeling energy for a higher purpose” (everyone knows that’s a load of bullshit)

you start trying to tempt him halfway through, wearing something a bit more revealing around him, but he just smirks, unaffected. the challenge you proposed to him feels almost trivial, which makes it all the more frustrating for you.

however, the second it’s december 1st, he flips. he’s at your door right at midnight, and you won’t be able to walk for a week.

kai’s taking no nut november in stride—too much stride, actually. you were the one who suggested it, but now his calm, unaffected attitude is starting to get under your skin. every time you attempt to seduce him, he gives no reaction.

when kai walks in your shared bedroom, you’re lounging in bed, legs spread wide open, wearing nothing but a tight white turtleneck sweater. he glances over, eyebrow raised. for a second, his gaze lingers on your hardened nipples straining against the fabric. then he just smirks, looks you up and down, and goes to grab his bottle of adderall without a word.

“really?” you ask, annoyed, but he just snorts. “nice try,” he says over his shoulder as he walks away. the days drag on, each one more frustrating than the last as he remains completely unmoved, almost like a silent “fuck you”.

finally, on november 30th, you’ve just about resigned yourself to defeat. you’re in bed, pulling the covers over yourself, when you hear footsteps in the hallway. you glance at the clock—it’s just turning from 23:59 to midnight, the start of december. you barely have a second to process it before your bedroom door swings open, and there he is, standing in the doorway with that same dark look in his eyes, only this time, there’s nothing holding him back.

“miss me?” he asks as he steps inside and closes the door behind him.

peter maximoff ── 11/08

he’ll try every trick in the book—whining, pouting, seduction, and even half-joking about “what if my balls burst?” “you’re actually gonna let me suffer like this?”

on day eight, peter’s pretty much losing his mind. he’s sprawled out on the couch, groaning dramatically every few minutes, tossing his head back as if he’s in physical pain.

“this is torture,” he complains, looking at you with big, desperate eyes. “what’d i ever do to deserve this? my balls are gonna burst,”

you just laugh, shaking your head as you unwrap a lollipop. “you’ve gone without it for a day over a week, peter. you act like it’s been a lifetime,” you tease, popping the candy into your mouth with a grin.

his eyes follow the movement, and his whole expression changes, growing intense in a way that’s unlike his usual playful self. for a second, he’s silent, watching you suck on the lollipop like it’s the final straw. “okay, i’m not gonna survive this,” he mutters, voice a bit rough.

in the blink of an eye, he’s disappeared, zipping down the hall. you hear the bathroom door slam shut, followed by a muffled, frustrated groan from the other side.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[americanwh0rerstory]

her patient, his savior [kit walker]

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

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

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

NO NSFW. PLS ENJOY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[wh0re43van]

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

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

[nobitchs-world]

Me after searching up “character name x black!reader” and it gives me some Harry Potter shit