💝 with Kurt please (ideally where they aren’t together and Reader surprises him with a kiss)
⋆˖⁺‧el talks: YOU GUYS MADE ME MISS HIM SO HERE'S THIS QUICK ONE! From this prompt, still accepting them if you want to send one in!
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⋆˖⁺‧Kurt Kunkle x Fem!Reader
wc: 533
“Hi guys, how's it going? Kurt from Kurt’s world here. A little different type of video today, I’m here with m- uh, my friend-” Kurt gestured awkwardly at you, clearing his throat before continuing, "and we’re doing this, uh, this taste- blind taste test.” He said, clumsily gesturing along the table that contained sauce bottles and jars wrapped in paper so he couldn't tell what they were, almost knocking one over in the process. You caught it before it fell, placing it back upright on the table as he laughed sheepishly. “You- uh, you ready?” He asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye as if he was nervous to fully look at you.
“Yeah, sure.” You said, lifting the eye mask to place it over his eyes, feeling his breath hitch as your fingers brushed his ears. “Okay-” you said once the fabric covered his vision, “can you see me?”
“No.” He said, turning his head as if to check he couldn’t see out of the sides.
“You sure? How many fingers am I holding up?” You asked, lifting your middle finger up, knowing that would make him laugh when he watched it back.
“Uh, three?” He guessed, shifting in his chair as you reached for the first bottle, a chipotle barbeque sauce.
“Ooh. Close.” You said, squeezing the sauce onto a spoon and then lifting it to his mouth. “Okay, open.” You pushed the spoon past his lips as they parted, and he shifted again, like he wasn’t expecting it, even though this is what he had asked you to do.
“Oh.” He said knowingly, nodding a few times, “thats, uh, oh yeah thats the bar- the chipotle one.” He smiled as you wiped off the spoon, glancing at the camera before bringing your eyes back to Kurt as he licked his lips clean.
“Ready for the next one?” You asked, watching as he nodded, his lips slightly parted in anticipation. But you didn’t pick up a sauce this time, instead, you leaned forward. You hesitated slightly, but eventually brought your lips to his.
“Mmph!” He startled as your lips connected, shocked by your soft skin, and your hand lifting to his jaw, your fingertips brushing against his skin. “What’re y-” He mumbled, his voice muffled against your lips as you shifted closer. The movement made him realise that this was intentional, that you were kissing him on purpose.
His hand lifted to the eye mask and pulled it off, staring at you with wide eyes flicking between yours before grabbing your face and pulling your mouth back to his. His kiss was clumsy, like he'd never really done it before, but sweet all the same. When he eventually pulled back to look at you, you smiled, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Sorry I ruined your video.” You said, looking up at him as his hands stayed firmly in place, as if now that you had let him touch you he would never stop.
“It's just a video. Hey, I- it might even get more views now.” He shrugged, waiting for a second before leaning back in, smiling against your lips now the shock had worn off.
Kind of! I haven't seen the show but I've read some of the books, but around the time we were thinking of names for him, my partner was watching the show so that's how the name came up! I want to watch it though!
Kind of! I haven't seen the show but I've read some of the books, but around the time we were thinking of names for him, my partner was watching the show so that's how the name came up! I want to watch it though!
i love your headcanons !! i wondered if you could do something with the jkcu where its like them figuring out you have a specific thing turning you on like keys and his glasses for example… something like that !
⋆˖⁺‧ el talks: I love this, I got into this way too much, specifically Gator's 🫢 thank you for your patience on this I'm so sorry it took so long to get to, but I'm back in the mood for some jkcu so here we go 🌀
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Gator's thighs have always been something you've found attractive. Something about the thickness of them and how they look when he spreads his legs on the couch, leaning back with his arms folded. Usually you'd tell someone off for manspreading, but when Gator does it, you're all of a sudden absolutely fine with it.
When he gets himself a new accessory for work, a thigh holster for his gun, you almost pass out on the spot. He notices when you lift your head from his sheets as he's getting ready for work, your hair still a mess and the comforter slipping down your bare skin, and your eyes bug out of your head, immediately feeling the pressure in your gut.
He grins, because of course he does, walking over to the bed, his hips swaying arrogantly in the way they always do and he squats down by the side of the bed.
"You like that, huh?" He says, his voice is low and teasing as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger. You nod, your teeth catching your bottom lip as you look down at his thigh, then back up at his face. He pulls your lip free with his thumb, and runs his calloused skin across it.
"You be a good girl and wait right here for me, an' I'll let ya have some fun with it later, yeah?" He says, leaning in so his lips ghost over yours, revelling in the way you've turned to putty in his hands.
Your roommate Keys is absolutely clueless. That's what drives you insane about him, he sits opposite you, having no idea about the torment he's putting you through by merely existing. You have to try insanely hard to focus on what he's saying, and not get distracted by his cushiony lips, or his perfectly messy hair, or the smart stuff coming out of his mouth, spouting words you can't string together.
But when he's eating, twirling his noodles around his fork and you ask him how his day was, he looks up at you, your eyes connecting over the brim of his glasses, and you lose your train of thought. The frames have slipped down his nose enough to make him look like a professor from one of your romance books.
He has to wave in your face to bring you back to the moment. "Hey? You alright?" He asks, his brows furrowing slightly as his voice softens.
"Mhm." You say, pressing your thighs tightly together as you shift in your seat. He narrows his eyes, but then blinks it away, and lifts his hand to straighten his frames.
Your hand is wrapped around his wrist before you can stop it, and he stops mid-bite. "Leave them." You manage to choke out, and his eyebrows furrow for approximately three seconds before they raise in understanding.
"Really?" He asks, a flush creeping up his neck.
"Uh-huh." You nod, and before you know it, he's across the table, your leg pulled up around his hip as his fingers thread through your hair.
Travis slams the washing machine closed harder than necessary, every time. But you've come to love the noise, because it alerts you that he's back from the gym, and you stick your head out of the bedroom to see him drinking from his water bottle in the kitchen.
Under the light, his biceps glisten with sweat, the roots of his hair are damp, and a droplet of water drips down his chin. But nothing beats the way that he smells. You make your way out of the bedroom and over to him, pulling on his shirt to bring his mouth to yours, taking in the scent of his natural musk, and his half-faded cologne.
He startles when your tongue brushes his, and your fingers tug his shirt up. "Mmph- babe-" he mumbles between kisses, "I should shower- first."
"Uh-uh." You hum against him, tugging his shirt up as you break away. "You smell too good, need you right now."
He doesn't resist, in fact, he helps you discard his shirt and cups your head in his hands. "I dunno about good- but I ain't passin' you up." He says, bending to pull your legs up around his waist so he can set you on the kitchen counter.
"Kurt? Can you get this for me?" You call from the kitchen, and Kurt is there in an instant, skidding slightly on the kitchen tile. He sees you pointing your spoon up at the flour, which is on the top shelf of the cupboard, just out of your reach. He doesn't even question why you're not using the little stool he bought you for this specific scenario, he's just happy to help.
Your eyes drop the second he lifts his arms, straight down to where his t-shirt rides up, giving you the full display of his happy trail. The line of coarse hair is dark against his pale, soft tummy, and leads down underneath the waistband of his boxers.
He grabs the flour easily, and holds it out for you, confused about what it is that you're looking at. His first instinct is to get a little self conscious, and pulls on the hem of his t-shirt as it lowers back down to the top of his jeans.
You ignore the flour in his hand, and use the spoon to lift his t-shirt back up to see the hair again. He looks down, his eyebrows creased as the wooden spoon grazes his skin, sending a shiver up his spine.
"Once this cake is in the oven I have thirty minutes, and I'm gonna fuck you. Okay?" You say sweetly, pushing up onto your toes to kiss his cheek before taking the flour out of his hand. His hand stays still, not dropping from where it was holding the flour moments ago.
"Uh-huh." He swallows thickly, nodding quickly as his cock already starts to stir, still in disbelief that something so small could turn you on so much. "Not gonna argue with that."
You're lying on Steve's bed, holding a magazine above your head, flicking through the pages until you come across an article that will help you decide whether you're more like Cyndi Lauper or Joan Jett. Anything to not look at the headache-inducing wallpaper that Steve has plastered all around his room.
The bathroom door opens and Steve emerges, his hair dripping from the shower, little water droplets clinging to his chest hair, and a towel wrapped low on his hips. He pads over to the mirror to grab his hairbrush, completely oblivious to the way your magazine is slipping from your hands as you stared at him open-mouthed until the glossy pages smacked into your face.
He turns to see you throwing it down and sitting up on your knees to watch the muscles in his back move as he pulled the brush through his hair. "What?" He asks, eyes flicking between you and the mirror, wondering whether he forgot to wash off some soap or something.
"You look good." You say, your eyes moving over the moles dotted along his ribs that lead down to the top of the towel. He scoffs, shaking his head.
"I look like a wet dog." He laughs softly, brushing his hair back.
"I feel like a wet dog."
He turned to look at you, his eyes wide and mouth open in disbelief, curling upwards at the corners. "What did you just say?" He asks, half-laughing.
You shrug, crawling along the bed until you reach the edge, and reaching out to grab the towel and pull him closer to the bed. He stumbles forward, still laughing softly. "Babe- I'm wet."
"Yeah, so am I." You say, pulling him down on top of you.
Baron gets a little too into his work sometimes, leaning forward with his elbows on the kitchen table, papers scattered everywhere, and his hair sticking up from where he'd been leaning on his hand.
You walk into the kitchen to put your plate in the dishwasher, and notice his tired eyes under the dim lighting hanging above him. He's wearing an old t-shirt and sweatpants, with his pen between his teeth. You head over, standing next to his chair and running your hand through the back of his hair. He sighs and wraps his arm around your thighs, his thumb trailing over your skin as he kept his focus on his work.
"Hi sweetheart." He mumbles, his thumb grazing along the back of your thigh just underneath the hem of your shorts. The gentle touch sends goosebumps trailing down your thigh, the little hairs standing on end. You lean your cheek against his head as your nails gently scrape down the back of his neck.
He notices the little shift between your feet as he brushes his thumb against your skin again, not turning to look up at you, but his eyebrow lifts in acknowledgement. He does it again, more purposeful this time, and immediatley clocks the hitch in your breathing, deciding that he's suddenly done enough work and shifts the chair back to pull you into his lap.
How come you don't post as much anymore? I'm not hating I just wanna know because I feel like a lot of writers are saying they're unmotivated at the moment
Ok I'll be honest.
It's because of my home life. I don't think I ever realised just how selfish men are until I had a baby with one. It's like, ingrained into them to ALWAYS put themselves first no matter what.
I am drowning in housework, I get up at 5:30-6am every day with my daughter, then I make everyone's breakfast, and play with her. My partner gets up at 8:30-9am, and sits in the living room on his phone. He doesn't play with her other than throwing out random words every now and then, and if she wants to sit on his lap, he's got his phone next to her scrolling through reddit or Instagram. Then I take her for her nap, which, when she's sick like she is now, can take almost an hour of her crying, writhing around and scratching me until she falls asleep. Then when she's finally down, I come downstairs and my partner hasn't tidied up the mess from the morning, breakfast dishes aren't done, toys and food all over the living room, and he's not even in, because he's gone to the gym. So I have to tidy all of that, and then I get approximately 30-40 minutes to shower or eat, or work out or write, and I have to choose which one I get to do. Then she wakes up and I have to make lunch for her, and then my partner goes to work. Then the afternoon is spent playing with her, trying to do laundry, cleaning, tidying, more dishes, food shopping all whilst she screams because she wants me to hold her. Then I make dinner, clean the kitchen, take her for her bath and then put her to bed, which again can take up to an hour. Then it's 9pm and I have to tidy up her toys, eat my own dinner, and THEN I can sit down to write. My partner gets home at 10pm, makes a mess in the kitchen making his dinner, and complains that I don't hang out with him enough, I go to bed at 11pm, he doesn't tidy up his mess so it's left for the next morning, and then the cycle continues.
He knows I'm overwhelmed, overstimulated, and that I cannot relax until the house is clean. Thank you to OCD and autism for that. But he does not care, because he wants to go to the gym. OR goes to another gym class in the morning three times a week, so he isn't even in from 10am most days. I'm sick of communicating my issues with no change, and I am exhausted.
So I don't feel super motivated to write about men when I live with one who pisses me off every day. Apart from this one Gator fic that is based off all of this, lol.
Shuffle your on repeat playlist and show the first ten songs. Ty for the tags @oohgeminii and @tellcherhesgone 💙💙 I'm having so much fun with these tag games lol
⋆˖⁺‧To Be Alone - Hozier
⋆˖⁺‧I Don't Wanna Be Me - Type O Negative
⋆˖⁺‧Heart Shaped Box - Nirvana
⋆˖⁺‧Freakin' Out - Dexter And The Moonrocks (my cat is called Dexter lol)
⋆˖⁺‧Janie - Ethel Cain
⋆˖⁺‧Smile Like You Mean It - The Killers
⋆˖⁺‧Closer - Nine Inch Nails
⋆˖⁺‧Covet - Basement
⋆˖⁺‧My Own Summer - Deftones
⋆˖⁺‧Rein Raus - Rammstein
No pressure tags, ik there's a lot of tag games going around rn! @kissalready @comfortwriting @keeryspullman @keer-y @moonstoneandmoonlight
Is it safe to say I miss your Kurt fics 🙈🙊 you write him the best imo
THE BEST???? idk about that
But yes me too I think I burnt myself out on Kurt with those two long stepbro fics but I have another stepbro request that peaked my interest last night so I may be getting on that soon.
I also saw this image the other day and went feral so I fear I may be back
