prompt: Blaine and his magic hands give Kurt a massage after work.
NC-17 for fingering and a happy ending~ ((and a brief cameo from Bruce))
"What’s this?" Kurt asks when he gets home from a long shift at the diner, eyebrows furrowing at the cushioned mat spread out on his bed. For a second he mistakes it for a body pillow and thinks that maybe Blaine has his own Bruce, but then he spots the basket of oils and lotions next to the bed.
"I know how much you love my backrubs," Blaine starts to say, and Kurt hums at the pleasant memories, the way Blaine’s hands always press so firm that Kurt just turns to putty under the touch, "so I thought I’d give you the full treatment this time. I know you must be sore from work and after… after the way you took care of me when I was insecure a couple of weeks ago, I figured I could return the favor."
Blaine shrugs like it’s nothing but Kurt’s eyes soften, hand reaching out to link their fingers together, squeezing. “Sex with you and your gorgeous body is never just a favor,” Kurt says slowly, surely, “but god, Blaine, a massage sounds amazing. Let me shower first?”
"Of course," Blaine replies, eyes sparkling when he leans in and gives Kurt a slow kiss before Kurt disappears to wash all traces of work away.
Sebadam | Eight years later
- Sebastiangst prompted: flight attendant!adam meets teenage!sebastian just after seb’s parents got a divorce and he moves to paris with his dad. years later they meet again when seb is taking his current boyfriend/hookup/boytoy to paris
Sebastian pulls a headphone bud from his ear, “Don’t even think about moving that hand,” he whispers lowly to the guy next to him who would serve as his entertainment slash fuck buddy for the next seven days.
“The one and only,” he finally replies, raising his eyebrows curiously at the well dressed and well composed flight attendant.
She swallows, “I’m really sorry, but there’s been a bit of a mix up in the seating. We’ve double booked your seat.”
Fic: Holding You
So even though trufflemores's birthday isn't for a few weeks yet, this is one of two fic ideas I had in mind for her present, so WE'RE CELEBRATING EARLY, KIDS!
Early!Klaine at Dalton fic, ridiculous fluff, G, ~970 words.
It’s been three days.
Three days since Blaine told Kurt he moved him.
Three days since their first spine-tingling kiss.
Three days since Blaine asked Kurt to please, please go out with him.
Kurt’s pretty sure he hasn’t gone more than a couple of hours without pinching himself for the past three days, frantically hoping he won’t wake up from this dream. Every time he pinches himself and nothing happens afterward, he can’t keep the goofy, daydreamy smile off his face, because Blaine asked me out Blaine likes me Blaine Blaine Blaine-
Kurt was having the time of his life.
He had been in Italy for two weeks, and they had been the best two weeks of his life. He was there for a four-week long intensive study abroad course for fashion design and he was loving every second of it. He didn’t speak much Italian, it was true, but the course was through an English-speaking university so he was able to get away with a lot of bare-bones phrases and gestures.
He had rented a scooter for the day to head out to the Italian countryside to do some sketching on his day off. He wasn’t sure where he was going, exactly, but he knew how to ask for a bathroom and a gas station and a pizza, so he figured he was mostly all set. The first leg of his trip—the getting there part—was a success. He found a small town with picturesque cliffs overlooking the seaside, and he couldn’t help but do a little landscaping sketching in-between his fashion sketches.
He found a tiny, cozy cafe and ate some small dishes and drank some wine, then walked around until he felt sober enough to head back to his dorm room. He had just gotten his scooter in gear and moving at a slow pace when he was suddenly hit by a force that sent him flying onto the brick street.
"Mi scusi!" a voice called from the small red car that had apparently hit him, albeit very slowly. "Mi scusi, I—"
"It’s okay," Kurt said, dusting off his jeans.
"Oh my God, you’re an American," the young man who knelt down next to him said. "I mean, you’re okay, I think. You are okay?"
"I’m fine," Kurt said, finally looking up at the bright hazel eyes of the boy next to him. They were wide, earnest, and completely captivating. "You weren’t going that fast."
"I was trying to park," the young man said, gesturing at the red car. "I hit accelerate instead of break, I don’t know what I was thinking."
"Are the pedals in different places here?" Kurt asked, checking for scrapes on his hands.
"No, no, the pedals are in the same place," the young man said, suddenly looking bashful. "I was just distracted, I guess."
"The scenery is beautiful," Kurt said, taking in the strong jaw and plush lips of the boy’s face. The boy nodded, before pulling one of those plush lips in between his teeth.
"I wasn’t looking at the scenery," the boy said, before sending a coy glance up through his lashes at Kurt. Oh, Kurt thought. Oh.
"What were you looking at?" Kurt asked, his voice breathless and airy even to his own ears. The boy flushed, eyes down, then up through his lashes once more.
"You," he replied, blinking his wide hazel eyes so enticingly Kurt thought he might die.
"Oh," Kurt replied.
"I’m sorry," the young man said. "I’m—I’m Blaine."
"Kurt," Kurt replied, extending his hand. Blaine took it, softly, holding it instead of shaking it.
"I just wanted you to know my name," Blaine said, looking distinctly at Kurt’s mouth, "So it’s less creepy when I do this."
Kurt was about to reply but suddenly Blaine’s mouth was on his, and Blaine’s hands were on his face, caressing his jaw with a feather-light touch. Kurt exhaled into the kiss, lowering himself down further and drawing Blaine down with him. Kurt moved his hands up to caress Blaine’s face in turn as Blaine’s hands moved further down his torso in a better attempt at easing them down into a recline.
Kurt didn’t even care that his sketches were spread on the street beside him, so lost was he in the moment.
Kurt was definitely having the time of his life.
Burt called the next morning. Kurt barely slept the night before, because after the novelty wore off the swelling settled in. His tongue felt like a foreign object in his mouth, and the ball of the barbell scraped lightly against the roof of his mouth every time his jaw clenched tight as he slept. Even if he hadn’t been given caution about what he could eat he wouldn’t feel much like doing it anyway. He couldn’t even use a straw. He settled in to make an extra-liquidy smoothie with some extra protein powder just as the phone rang.
"Ulloh?" Kurt said, shocked and appalled by the sound of his own voice around his monstrous tongue. "Dah?"
"What’s going on, are you sick?" Burt said. "Or are you talking to me while you’re brushing your teeth again, Kurt, I told you last time—"
"No, no, not bwushing," Kurt said, rolling his eyes, because there was something he hadn’t yet considered—brushing his teeth. "No, not thick."
"Then what it is, you get one of those tongue piercings?" Burt said, before laughing like he did when he found something he said himself especially funny. Kurt stayed silent. "Come on kid, you’re supposed to be laughing with me here."
"I haf to go," Kurt said, hanging up the phone. He wasn’t sure why—it wasn’t like his dad could do anything to him. Or would even care. Kurt hoped he wouldn’t care.
Kurt was attempting to slurp smoothie by spoonful minutes later when his phone began to buzz with text messages.
Blaine: Your dad called me.
Blaine: He asked me to tell him you hadn’t done something stupid like get a tongue piercing.
Blaine: I couldn’t tell him that because you HAD gotten a tongue piercing, so I asked if I could tell him something else instead.
Blaine: So he said, Well at least it’s removable. It’s not like he got a stupid misspelled tattoo or anything.
Blaine: I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO KURT I HATE LYING TO YOUR DAD
Blaine: I asked him about the game last night instead but there wasn’t a game last night Kurt
Blaine: I am the worst liar ever I am so sorry we will never be maniacal archvillains together
Kurt sighed, lowering his head to his hands. He was gonna have to call his dad back.
Right after he ate fifteen ice cubes.
another 5x16 reaction because that ep just won’t leave me alone:
Kurt continues his Sunday morning workout routine and Blaine decides he should join in. Includes push-up kisses. ao3
Sunday morning comes quickly now that they’ve worked out their problems for the most part. Blaine slips out of bed early and stares at himself in the mirror that stands in the corner of Kurt’s room, turning to his side to see if anything has changed even though he only just started the crazy routine they’ve put themselves on a few days ago.
"You look hot," Kurt mumbles, pulling the blanket tighter around himself like he always does as he’s just waking up, as if he wants nothing more than to curl up and go on sleeping forever. "Come back to bed."
prompt: "… having some “private time” and the other accidentally walking in." for hrhcriss :)
this isn’t exactly what i was going to write but then it kind of happened? not very nsfw at all but enjoy? :)
Despite his plans to hang out at the pub with the rest of the cast and the friends he’s made in London, Kurt heads back to their hotel early. They have a flight to catch in the morning and it’s been an exhausting week of performances. He’s just hoping to get a good night’s sleep before diving into what is bound to be a jet lagged week catching up with what happened at NYADA while they were here.
He’s surprised when he enters his hotel room and finds the lights on. Sebastian had ditched their group about half an hour ago claiming he wasn’t feeling well and was going to go sleep it off. Clearly, that had been a lie.
Sebastian is laid out on his bed, his shirt unbuttoned all the way down but still on, with his hand moving furiously over his cock.
Fic: If It’s Not Perfect (Then It’s Not), 7/13 - Inside Out And Upside Down
Masterpost: The Varied Stages of Something Unlikely
Masterpost: If It’s Not Perfect (Then It’s Not)
It’s the smell that awakens Sebastian. Cinnamon rolls. He’s sitting up before he even opens his eyes, swinging his legs over the side of the bed before it hits him.
Sebastian blinks over his shoulder at the empty side of the bed. Adam had to have climbed over him to get out - which, fine, he’s glad he apparently slept like a log for the first time since they got here - but a glance at the clock across the room shows that it’s barely after seven in the morning. The expanse of bed by the wall is cold when he lays his palm on it, so Adam’s been up for a while.
Working very hard to ignore the olfactory siren call of cinnamon pastry, Sebastian flops back down and slips under the duvet again. He’d like to say that it’s not weird that Adam’s up early on a day off, but that would be about as honest as saying he’s gotten used to the Take That shrine over his head. Sebastian’s mouth twists to the side as he contemplates the pride of place poster, a full wall length picture of someone Adam says, with suspicious stars in his eyes as he does so, is named Jason.
Sebastian glares up at Jason-whoever-he-is while he mulls over his problems. And there are problems. Well, one problem, but it’s big enough to count as at least a few: Adam has been behaving…well. Like a teenager. A mood-swingy, secretive, occasionally sullen then inexplicably manic teenager.
Which is not, it must be said, what Sebastian ever signed on for.
+ !!!!! this now + exactly what i needed after sinus infection and no sleep + that adam/brendan thing is killin + me. + also ehehehe david poor thing probably has no idea what his british charme is doing to our manhattan boys + is it chapter 8 yet? + fucking lissa always keeping me on my toes + *wiggles butt like a kitten about to jump her prey* + MoreChloe + in fact + MoreCrawfordFamily + ru reads + sebadam + are you reading this fic? y/n? + no? what's wrong with you?
prompt: reaction fic for 5x15 with klaine and lots of kissing. no, really, that’s pretty much it.
warning: reference to assault (and Kurt’s healing bruises & cuts) but there’s nothing save for tender lovin’ care here ♥
They’re getting ready for bed when Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine and hugs him from behind, harder than Blaine expects him to, whispering, “I miss kissing you.”
His voice is soft, fierce with emotion that makes Blaine’s chest tighten. He’s been sleeping over every night since Kurt got home from the hospital - at first on the couch but eventually Kurt shuffled out into the living room to ask Blaine to sleep beside him, and Blaine almost sobbed in relief - and it hasn’t been easy for them, being together but in a way so much gentler, more cautious than they’re used to.
Blaine turns around in Kurt’s arms and opens his mouth to reply but Kurt shakes his head, mouth tugging up with a hint of a smile. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the cheek kisses and the eskimo kisses—”
"—but I guess, I don’t know." Kurt shrugs sheepishly. "I miss your mouth on mine. I miss making out, don’t you?”
"C’mere," Blaine says, taking Kurt’s hand in his and leading him to the bed. They share a knowing smile, because, well, usually it’s the other way around.
"Too Much Is Just Enough" - Kurt/Blaine
Alien!Blaine + human!Kurt. Tentacle porn.
Who promised me money again? ;)
Warnings for: barebacking (without possibility of consequence), oversensitivity, tentacle!sex, and size kink.
He isn’t up here to throw himself off. Really. Okay, so maybe it looks that way—but honestly, he’d have to climb over quite a lot of stuff to get to that edge, and he’s already freezing, and he’s not up here to throw himself off, remember?
It’s New Year’s Eve, he’s twenty years old, his date ditched him for a dancer ten minutes into the Vogue mixer; he needs some space and air and to remind himself that he is fabulous and he doesn’t need anyone in his life to remind him of that fact.
And he is sad. But not that kind of sad.
He also isn’t alone, but he doesn’t realize this until a terribly earnest voice shouts, “Don’t do it! You have so much to live for.”
He freezes, clutches his overcoat a little tighter around himself, and turns. Halfway across the rooftop is an attractive man around his own age, dark hair slicked back, hazel eyes wild with concern, and a compact body sheathed in a Topman slim suit that looks better on him than on most of the models who Kurt has seen wearing them.
"Uh," he says, "I’m not up here to jump?"
"It’s okay," the man says. "You’re not alone."
"No, really," he replies, backing up because this guy might be nuts and Kurt is definitely out of range to shout for help all the way up here. "I’m not going to jump."