anonymous prompted: can you write a fic where for some reason the glee club sees kurt shirtless and there are huge scratch marks all up and down his back OuO
“Kurt!” Rachel gasps when Kurt walks into the room, a scowl on his face. Blaine is close behind, hitching his messenger bag higher up on his shoulder. “What happened? You didn’t—?” She looks pointedly at the large orange stain on the front of Kurt’s white oxford and closes her folder, bending to stuff it into her purse.
“No,” Kurt sighs, shaking his head. He steps up onto the second row, sets his own bag down on his chair and flips open the top, rummaging around inside for the spare shirt he keeps purely out of habit. It’s just a plain black v-neck, and it’s glee rehearsal at the end of the day so he doesn’t mind giving up his normally-fashionable nature for a few hours. “Genius over here”—he thumbs back at Blaine, who looks indignant—“spilled his soda on me on the way in.”
anonymous prompted: can i request a fic where kurt eats bp!blaine out for the first time and blaine is so loud and he won’t stop moving and when he comes he tangles his fingers into kurt’s hair and fucks down against his face and screams and writhes and kurt thinks its the hottest thing in the world (pretty please you’re the only person in the world that writes good bp!blaine fanfiction pleasepleasepleeeeaaasseee) <3
“This is nice,” Blaine gasps, tilting his head and grabbing at Kurt’s hair, “but I think we need to do something a little more.” He wraps his leg around Kurt’s thigh, pushes his chest up.
“Like what?” Kurt kisses up Blaine’s neck, drags his tongue to taste sweat, to hear Blaine let out that sweet whine. He slides his hand down Blaine’s chest, stops at the denim of his jeans, under which Kurt knows Blaine is swollen-pink and wet. His cock throbs in his jeans and he has to take a breath to steady himself.
anonymous prompted: because you’re the only one that could do it justice… a reaction fic to 5x3, Finn’s death: Kurt thinks he has to stay strong for everyone else so he doesn’t cry in front of anyone at McKinley…Blaine’s worried…& then one afternoon he finds Kurt on Finn’s bed wrapped in Finn’s jacket and that’s when he breaks down in front of Blaine
I can’t do this.
I can’t do this.
Kurt can feel that there’s a dam inside him, can feel its slow breaking, the pressure building up, up, up, until it’s too much. Until he can’t handle it anymore. Until he crumples like a puppet with its strings cut, unable to do anything but fall. He’s worried about what will happen when that final wall crumbles. He imagines himself, his body, as a crumbling town in the mighty clutches of a great flood, a tearing, wrecking, destroying force.
i wanna be with you all night—at the insistence of his roommates, Blaine takes advantage of a boring Friday night and heads out to a gay night club, where he has a run-in with a gorgeous man who turns it into the best night of Blaine’s life. (very vague Queer As Folk-ish AU.)
“This is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, Blaine Anderson,” Blaine mutters to himself as he steps into the club, avoiding looking in the bouncer’s eyes as the music, emanating from the dance floor ahead, begins to wash over him. “And you’ve had some dumb ones before.”
Blaine doesn’t club very often—or at all, really, if he wants to be completely honest, but he’s sick of his roommates at NYU constantly making fun of him for having been in the city for over three months without ever stepping foot in a club, gay or otherwise. So tonight on what could have been a boring Friday night of cramming, and despite a lengthy paper due in a few days, he’d made his way to the nearest gay bar after stressing that he’d wanted to do this alone, had steadfastly kept his head down and ignored the leers from several intimidating-looking men, and had successfully made his way to the dance floor. Which he’s severely regretting going to.
anonymous prompted: i was reading through the imagineyourotp tumblr and this post for kurt and blaine:- “Imagine your OTP having rough sex when suddenly Person A hits their head on the headboard of their bed. Person B laughs so hard they can’t finish” *-* i love your writings, thank you! :)
Blaine’s nails bite into Kurt’s back, but Kurt isn’t aware of the sharp, pricking pain even as they rake down his shoulders, red-hot zigzagging patterns sparking in his flesh and making him inhale quick through his teeth. All he’s aware of, at this moment, is the way Blaine feels around him, the way he clenches on every other thrust out, like he’s desperate to keep Kurt in, to keep him close.
There are words under Blaine’s breath, filthy and encouraging, and they make Kurt’s heart skip, thug faster in his chest, make the muscles in his back and arms and ass clench and flex as he gives him that little more, that faster and harder until they’re moving as one, together, with expert, practiced folds and bends and twists of their bodies.
anonymous prompted: I would like to formally prompt Klaine somnophilia with bp!Blaine.
It’s still mostly dark outside, the noise of traffic muffled far below, when Kurt wakes up. It takes him a few seconds, like it always does, to regain his bearings, and he blinks sleepily into the semi-darkness, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand as the covers slip down his shoulders, exposing his bare skin to the chilliness of the room. He shivers, looking over at the clock on his nightstand, glaring at the neon-red letters that glare 6:45AM back, like they’re mocking him for being up so early on his only day of the week off.
Slumping back into bed, Kurt turns over, restless and too-awake now to go back to sleep, and blinks away another yawn that morphs into a smile as the smooth curve of Blaine’s bare back greets him.
Kurt and Blaine are in the middle of a heated sexting session when Kurt’s number isn’t the one that Blaine sends a picture to…
To Kurt (10:56PM):
I know we just got off the phone, but I miss you.
To Blaine (10:56PM):
:( I miss you, too, Blaine.
To Kurt (10:57PM):
Why does New York have to be so far away?
To Blaine (10:58PM):
Hey shh, none of that. You’ll visit soon, like we planned. And I’ll be here.
filled for the GKM—Kurt and Blaine are having sex and Blaine calls Kurt “Daddy.”
It happens suddenly, like a thunderclap.
The afternoon is nondescript, a black-and-white coloring page with the only filled-in image the one of Blaine, on knees and elbows, underneath Kurt, his ass spread, open and willing, as Kurt fucks hard into him over and over, his muscles burning, his skin stinging, his lungs tight, constricted, as he gasps for breath and chases that elusive sweet heat.
the way that i want you tonight—after leaving their engagement party, Kurt and Blaine head back to Blaine’s house to make everything a little more…official.
“Are you absolutely sure that your parents won’t be home?” Kurt asks, worried, for the fifth time since they got out of Blaine’s car. There’s a whole mass of snakes, of something slithery and restless, dancing in his stomach.
Blaine looks up from where he’s twisting his key into the lock on the front door. There’s something indecipherable in his eyes, something smolderingly dark. It makes Kurt gulp, makes his eyes widen round, too round, and he knows that he has that look on his face, that slack-jawed, astounded look.
It takes exactly one hour, distracted by celebrating, by kisses, by endless hugs and congratulations, for Kurt to update his Facebook information. He does it with the warm, damp, giddy press of Blaine’s lips a ghost on his cheek, and he recalls Blaine’s speech—past lives and always meant to be in love, always meant to be here, together, to be KurtandBlaine—and grins. Someone says something to him and he looks up through the crowd, friends and foes, blazers and ties that remind Kurt of that silly shortcut, that impromptu performance that changed his life, and thinks of how far he’s come, that they’ve come.
With a final glance down he stands gracefully, locking his phone and slipping it back into his pocket. The ring is there on his finger, glinting like a beacon through the fog, the call of home, of safety; it’s warmed now by his skin, and he looks at it, runs his fingers over it in amazement, wonders how just over an hour ago he’d been scared, unsure if this was right, when the answer has been staring him in the face all along, obvious like his breathlessly emotive answer to that one-kneed question: yes.
Going to stand by Blaine, by his fiance, and grabbing his hand, Kurt looks over, smiles at him and gets a tearful, adoring smile in return, a squeeze of their fingers and a glance down at that small strip of silver. People are talking to them clapping them on the shoulders and giving advice, making lewd jokes, but Kurt barely hears them, barely notices anything other than the comforting presence of Blaine beside him, the love that has to be making him glow like a hundred watt bulb.
He thinks that he just might fall in love over and over again now that they have their lifetimes, their eternity—just like they’ve always been meant to do.
Kurt Hummel is engaged to Blaine Anderson
It gets fifteen likes within the first five minutes.