{American horror story}
{anger - kit walker X reader}
Kit pounded into the bread. It was everything that put him in this godforsaken place. Sister Jude, his 'friends', the alien, Dr. Threadson, Dr. Arden, even Alma.
"You pretending its Sister Jude?" said a voice with a French accent. Kit turned to see Grace, looking at him with a tray in hand.
~
He was putting all his anger into each thrust. He didn't know what he was doing. He loved (y/n). No, he loved Alma. See, confusion. He pushed harder than before. He heard Grace's moans get louder. They sounded so wrong in his ears, but he ignored them, just needing some king of release.
Then he heard something clatter. They both turned, Grace sitting up, and him covering his... thing. He looked at her, and realized what he had done.
"Kit?" you asked, voice trembling. He looks at you, regret washing over his face as he sees a single tear run down your face.
"No- its not-"
"Kit?" is all she says, voice cracking. She looked at him for one last glance, and ran away and turned.
Grace grabbed Kits face and pulled herself back into him.
"No! Stop!" he tried to say, but no words came out. Now he didn't feel anything when he thrust. There was no anger or pain or sadness. Just movement.
Another interrupter came, with more physical punishment, but not as bad as the guilt Kit was going to face for the next couple weeks.
