I have a confession to make. Up until I was maybe 20 or 21, I was a Nice Girl.
Not a nice girl, who volunteers at an animal shelter or lets her friends cry on her shoulder (although I did those things occasionally). A Nice Girl, the female variant of a Nice Guy, is a young…
Because I have to. For Skank!Kuinn
“Are you suuuure that you’re gay?” Quinn asks, sliding onto Kurt’s lap. It’s not the first time this question has been asked tonight, and it surely won’t be the last. They’re both pretty drunk, lazing about in the backseat of Kurt’s car. Kurt laughs and pushes her off.
“I’m sure, Q.” He looks everywhere but her eyes. ”Now get off me.”
Quinn whines. ”You’ve never fucked a girl, have you?” She tickles his inner thigh with her long fingernails.
Kurt rolls his eyes and bats her hand away. ”No, have you?’
She giggles. ”No, but at least I’ve fucked someone.”
“Go to Hell.” he almost shouts, lighting up a cigarette.
She knows she’s hit a soft spot. The rum and coke buzzing in her body keeps her from stopping. ”Have you even kissed a girl?”
“Q, I’m really not-“
She leans into him, stopping her lips just before they meet his. ”Well, have you?” she breathes.
He tries to pull his head backwards, but he’s already flush against the car seat. ”Once. Sophomore year. I made out with Brittany Pierce.”
Quinn laughs. ”That hardly counts. Everyone has made out with her. I’ve made out with her.”
“That’s a touching story, but I don’t really care.” He mumbles, trying to turn away. She touches the far side of his face gingerly, and slides back onto his lap in one fluid motion.
“Is this doing anything?” She asks, grabbing the cigarette out of his mouth. He tries to speak, but she plants her lips on his before he can say a word.
She tastes like cigarettes, coffee, and a hint of vodka. Her lips are soft and delicate. Her mouth is warm and wet. It’s not unpleasant altogether. She attempts to fish her tongue into his mouth, but he presses his lips together, denying her entrance.
And then suddenly she’s on the other side of the car, popping a mint— or is it a pill of some kind?— into her mouth. ”Did that straighten you out, Virgin?” She asks, chomping on the white piece in her mouth.
“Nope.” He states, relighting his cigarette.
klaine AU:: Blaine is mute and Kurt, being the awesome boyfriend that he is, decides to learn sign language so they can EXPRESS THEIR LOVE BAW
Kurt held the little stuffed dog he had dubbed Charlie in his hands and nervously walked up to his boyfriend. He and Blaine had been dating for just under a few weeks and communication between them was very difficult. Blaine was a mute and while he could hear just fine, he couldn’t talk at all. He knew sign language, but that made it just as difficult because Kurt had no idea what Blaine was saying. They hadn’t fought, yet and Kurt was determined not to let that happen. He knew that a pen and notebook would get very frustrating for Blaine. He had a surprise for Blaine and he hoped that it would only help their relationship go forward. Kurt held onto Charlie as he stopped beside Blaine who was putting some books away. He looked over at Kurt and smiled.
“Hey sweetie,” Kurt began. The way Blaine looked at Kurt, it was warm. He figured that was a good sign and continued. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for not being as understanding as I should’ve. So I bought you an apology gift.” Kurt held up Charlie under his chin and gave a pitiful little puppy face. He knew Blaine loved dogs so the expression should win him some points, hopefully. “Say hello to Charlie!” Kurt said happily as he handed the stuffed dog to Blaine. The silent boy let out a breath as he took the stuffed dog. He looked up at Kurt with an appreciative smile.
“Do you forgive me?” Kurt asked hopefully. Blaine leaned forward and gave a quick kiss on Kurt’s lips; that was a yes. Kurt smiled as he walked along side Blaine further down the hallway.
“Listen Blaine, I know that with you not being able to talk it has been difficult for us to communicate,” Kurt began. Blaine’s smile faded but he understood what Kurt meant. “And using a pen and paper can get a little ludicrous and let’s face it baby, your handwriting is not the best.” Blaine looked over at Kurt but gave a side nod – his boyfriend had a point. Kurt laughed lightly before he continued. “With that, I have another little surprise for you. I have decided to learn sign language Blaine.” Kurt said with finality. Blaine stopped walking and turned to Kurt with a questionable glance.
“And to answer that silent question of yours, where have I been the last few days…well I signed up for a class and that’s what I’ve been doing. I must say, I think I’m pretty good at it,” Kurt said rather proudly. He did indeed sign up for a class and bought a book to practice at home. While some of the signs were going to take some getting used to because of the way it had to presented and the emotion it had to give, Blaine was worth every minute of it. Blaine paused for a moment as he handed Charlie back to Kurt. Kurt took the stuffed dog but his slight fear disappeared when he saw Blaine at an easy pace, move his hands. He was signing.
‘Are you sure, Kurt?’ He spelled Kurt’s name with each letter. Kurt smiled.
“Of course I’m sure,” Kurt answered. He knew what Blaine signed right away. That seemed to please Blaine but the excited expression disappeared as he signed again.
‘You don’t have to do this,” he signed as slowly as he could. It took Kurt a little while to process but the expression on Blaine’s face was evident. He stepped forward and took both of Blaine’s hands into his.
“Nobody said I have to do this Blaine. I want to do this. You’re important to me and you are worth every bit of it,” Kurt said softly. Blaine felt tears well up in his eyes. He released Kurt’s hands and wrapped his arms around his wonderful boyfriend’s waist and hugged him tightly. Kurt smiled and wrapped his arms around Blaine’s neck. It was going to take some time to learn this new language, but Kurt didn’t care. If it meant he could communicate with his boyfriend, then so be it.
Okay so I’m going to write the signed speech in parsed wording because I’m uppity as fuck.
“Hey.” Kurt mumbled, planting a kiss on Blaine’s cheek. ”How’s your day going?”
Blaine smiled. Good, he signed, how your A-S-L class? he took care signing each word slowly, watching Kurt’s eyes light up as he understood the words.
Good. Kurt signed, I learn new sign today. You want see?
Blaine’s face broke into a wide grin and he smiled. Show me. He signed. Then, with a laugh, he added, please.
Kurt shook his shoulders to ready himself, planting in hands just below his chin. He bit his lip in concentration as his hands started to move assuredly.
My boyfriend name B-L-A-I-N-E. He my best friend. Me love him a lot.
Blaine grinned from ear to ear, a blush creeping up on his face. You know my name sign?
Kurt shook his head, forgetting (as he sometimes did around Blaine) that he had speaking capabilities. Blaine showed Kurt both his hands, each thumb curved in to make the letter B. He brought his fingers up to his neck and drew his hands outwards, spreading his fingers just a tiny bit as they lined up with his cheeks.
Kurt smiled. B-O-W-T-I-E he signed, looking quizzically into Blaine’s eyes.
Blaine smiled back and nodded. I have name sign for you.
Kurt shook his head. ”No,” he said, “I don’t think I’m ready.”
You ready. Blaine replied. He grabbed Kurt’s hand and pressed Kurt’s thumb into his middle finger to form the letter K. He made the same letter with his own hand, and gracefully waved it back and forth over his other arm. Kurt repeated the movement.
M-U-S-I-C, Kurt signed once he had gotten the hang of the movement. ”A singing K.” he murmured.
Blaine nodded. I love you. He signed.
I love you same. Kurt signed back.
kurt/blaine stripper au xD
(vaguely dirty? Like PG-13+?)
Blaine Anderson was going to murder Tina Cohen-Chang. He was sure of it.
As soon as Tina had announced her engagement to Mike, she had begun planning her own bachelorette party. Before she had even picked out her dress, she had decided on a locale for the party: The Panther, a somewhat-upscale bar on the far side of town, well-known for its strong mixed drinks. Oh, and the all-male strip show they presented every night.
“I love you.” Ben sighs, fiddling with his pencil.
“I love you too,” Leslie replies. And, without missing a beat, she adds, “what are you wearing?”
He chuckles. “I can’t do this right now. I’m in the office.”
He’s laughing as they fumble back into the blue box, half-drunk with the mead they had been offered (from Leif Erickson himself, naturally), and half-exhausted from the days (years?) they had spent awake. The Doctor trips over his own feet, and Martha offers her shoulder for him to lean on. Like some four-legged creature with only three legs working, they limp towards the makeshift room he’s set up.
This turned out a little weird. Whatever.
Quinn was busy applying another layer of eyeliner in the bathroom off the English hallway on a Tuesday afternoon when she was supposed to be in class. A flushing toilet made her jump and smear her pencil all over her eyelid. “Give me a heart attack why don’t you.” She shouted, smudging the error into a kind of smoky eye. The person from the stall slid up next to her to wash their hands.
“Loving the new style, Q.” The person said. Quinn glanced over to see the source of the voice, and saw a familiar Victorian-neck white ruffled top under a black vest. A waterfall of pin-straight black hair with an electric blue streak fell over the front of the vest, blending into one mass. Quinn smiled.
And this is why I love Emily.
“The delegate from Iran has the floor,” the AD, a tall, blond girl in a powder-blue suit, stated solemnly.
Blaine took a deep breath and made his way to the front of the lecture hall. ”My fellow delegates, esteemed directors, I urge you to vote in favor of this resolution. It is imperative to reallocate the oil reserves in the Middle East, and the nation of Iran is sure that this resolution will aid in the even distribution therein. I yield my time to the chair.” He sat back down to find a note next to his nameplate. It had the name “Iran” written on it in a familiar cursive type. He opened it and read while others were arguing around him.
“You’re so hot when you’re in charge.”
Blaine smiled, and scribbled a response. He flagged down the page, who dropped the note in Kurt’s lap across the room. Kurt opened it and read:
“The delegate from Venezuela will have order. And will also meet Iran outside during the lunch break to discuss our nations’ mutual interests. And also the oil reserves in between my legs that need to be drilled.”
Kurt laughed out loud, gaining strange looks from the delegates around him. He checked the art deco clock on the wall… 15 minutes. He could make it.
Jessica Anderson wasn’t a good student. She wasn’t particularly musically inclined like her big brother. She was a mediocre athlete, although she could run quite fast. Her report cards always stated she was a smart girl, but never applied herself. She was the kind of girl who preferred coloring her short fingernails with white-out to anything her teachers were saying. She was not particularly pretty by most standards, although most people never seemed to realize it. She wore her long hair in frizzy black curls that reached halfway down her back. Her eyes, the same hazel as her brother’s, were always rimmed with some kind of bright turquoise eyeliner. Even in the heat of August, she would always wear the same camouflage hoodie, the strings dangling from her mouth as she chewed on their ends. She hated shorts and short skirts, but would occasionally wear the denim miniskirt her mother had bought on their last shopping trip together. It was frayed at the ends and too tight for her round tummy, but that was all a part of the appeal.
Jess was good at one thing and one thing only, and that was manipulating people. Her deep voice had a cool demeanor that portrayed equal parts sincerity, sensuality, and innocence. She bragged that half her wardrobe was nicked from the most expensive stores in the mall, and kept only by sweet-talking the security guards stationed at the mall’s entrance. Whether or not those stories were true, no one really knew. That was the thing about her. She could tell a bold-faced lie to her grandmother and never show the slightest bit of remorse. Although she only spoke in short clips and phrases, no one could ever tell if those words were truth or fiction. The only person who really knew for sure was her father, and he had never been the same after he and his wife divorced.
Jess and her father actually used to get along quite well. They went to Daddy/Daughter dances with the girl scout troop and handed out candy together on Halloween. But after her mother had announced around their mahogany dining room table that she had met someone new and was moving to London indefinitely, something snapped in his brain. Suddenly, all the alcohol in the house was gone. Strange people were coming over at all hours of the night, delivering packages to the house. Jessica’s father, it seemed, never slept, just spent all his time in the master bedroom, muttering nonsense. Before long, dishes would sit in the sink for weeks on end, gathering flies unless Jess or her brother started to wash them. The brother and sister would go without food for days before they learned how to order in pizza. Sometimes, she would hear a loud thunk in the middle of the night and peek her head out of her room, only to see her brother limping past, a light purple bruise just starting to form on his jaw.
That was when Jess stopped talking. And the less she talked, the more she realized people were interested in what she had to say. She would laugh at it inside her head, how strange it seemed. She learned that, when she did speak, people would believe anything that came out of her mouth. So she invented stories. Vacations to the Bahamas, her mother’s sudden disappearance as a result of a particularly heinous struggle with ovarian cancer… everyone around her bought it, hook, line, and sinker. As her home life disintegrated into total chaos, with her brother taking charge of the house, Jessica’s lies became more and more elaborate. Before long, everyone in her school knew a different story about her life. As far as they knew, she was the most privileged, intelligent, richest girl in Westerville High.
And when her brother moved out to attend college in New York City, she knew that her lying days were numbered.
What if Sebastian goes to the WSS opening night and it’s after the bar thing, Kurt/Blaine and Finn/Rachel already have had sex, etc. Anyway, he’s there and Kurt sees him and gets angry and goes up to him (say he’s in the hallway or something) and Kurt is like “Bitch you better get your ass out of here” of course in a better way and basically saying “stay away from my boyfriend or I will rip off your head” and then Sebastian leaves and Kurt goes backstage and Blaine’s looking for him to help with something in his costume and Kurt shoves him up against a wall and kisses him.
There he was, sitting in the third row of the theater. His blond hair spiked up from the back, his blue eyes catching a sparkle from the stage lights, his bright white teeth positively glowing in the obscene smirk that was on his face. Kurt recognized the face as soon as he saw it in between the rows of football players posing as dancers running circles around him during “Gee Officer Krupke.” He almost lost his cue to cut into the song, but, always the consummate professional, managed to find his place. By the time the scene drew to a close and Kurt could finally exit the stage, he thought his heart was going to completely beat out of his chest.
Why was he there? What business did he have? Kurt’s throat tensed up at the answers he was forced to acknowledge. Blaine. Blaine was in the middle of all this. Blaine had always known that Sebastian had a thing for him, but had chosen to ignore it after he and Kurt became a well-established couple. And now, after having seen them duke it out outside of the gay bar they had snuck into with the rest of the Warblers, Sebastian was back to weasel his way into the relationship. Kurt had to give the sophomore credit… not everyone was confident enough to think they could break up a couple so well-known in the Lima blogosphere. Goodness knows, if the tables were turned, Kurt wouldn’t have had that strength.
But the tables weren’t turned, and Kurt and Blaine were together. That was that.
Barely an hour later, Kurt was shaking hands outside the theater, smiling weakly as someone’s grandmother was extolling him for his “angelic” voice for the fifty-sixth time. The evening show would start in just a few hours, and he tried his hardest to find a way out of the conversation. A glint of white teeth caught his eye, and he politely excused himself. Standing in the abandoned F-hallway was Sebastian, looking an awful lot like the cat that ate the canary.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Kurt mumbled, trying to sound polite, but ultimately letting his snide tone through.
“Just supporting a friend.” Sebastian shrugged, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. ”You know how it is.”
“Oh I do know.” Kurt growled, stepping closer to the blond just a few inches taller than him. ”I’ve been there. You know, pining away over someone I couldn’t have. I know you better than you think, Sebastian.” Kurt spat out the boy’s name so roughly that it almost seemed as if someone else had said the word.
Sebastian rolled his eyes. ”I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about, Kurt. I’m just here to support-“
“Cut the crap.” Kurt shouted. Then, catching himself, he lowered his voice to match Sebastian’s nonchalant air. ”You think I believe that you’re just here to support Blaine? After all the puppy-dog eyes I’ve seen you throw at him? The ten zillion texts you sent him when you knew we were together? The times you ‘accidentally’ ran into him while we were out? Do you honestly think I’m that dumb?”
“I don’t know what-” Sebastian stated coolly.
“Shut the hell up.” Kurt sneered. ”I see right through your naive facade, Sebastian. I know that act. I’ve done that act. And nothing you do or say is going to change the fact that Blaine and I are together. We’re together and in love and his cock has been in my mouth and I know that that kills you.” Kurt knew he was being mean, he was doing it deliberately. This was Santana territory, but he couldn’t stop himself.
Sebastian couldn’t hide it anymore. His face was scrunched up into a scowl, and his hands were balled into fists. ”You can blow him all you want, Kurt, but you will never love Blaine as much as I do. Never.”
Kurt just laughed. ”Keep telling yourself that, sweetie. I have to go help my boyfriend out of his costume for dinner break. You know my boyfriend, right? About yea high, dark brown hair, kissable lips? Yeah, I have to go fuck his brains out, hon’.” Before Sebastian could edge in another word, Kurt was skipping down the hallway- literally skipping- towards the men’s dressing room.
He opened the door to find all his castmates in various states of undress. Mike was shirtless, pulling his tap shoes off. Puck and Finn were laughing about something while smoothing over their wigs. Suspiciously absent, though, was the one Kurt had come to see. Just then, a whine came from the bathroom adjoined to the dressing room.
“Can someone help me with this?” Blaine was groaning from behind the thick wooden door, his voice echoing. The other boys all turned to Kurt and began laughing simultaneously, as if to say, “he’s all yours.”
Kurt let himself into the bathroom to find Blaine struggling with the zipper on his pants. They had had to be custom-made for the diminutive actor thanks to his small proportions. The costume mistress must have cut corners in making them, however, because the zipper was constantly getting stuck. Blaine smiled a soft “hello” as Kurt slid into the room. Without saying a word, Kurt reached his nimble fingers onto the cold metal next to Blaine’s crotch and swiftly undid the zipper.
“All done.” Kurt smiled, the stress of the scene he had just left melting away into Blaine’s hazel eyes. Without realizing where he was or what he was doing, Kurt pushed his boyfriend up against the cool tiled wall. The grommets on the back of Blaine’s vest made a loud clank as they hit the wall. Kurt was deaf to the noise, however, his mouth pressed firmly against Blaine’s soft lips. Steadying himself with both hands on the wall, Kurt thrust into Blaine’s hips, making the shorter boy elicit a loud groan. Blaine’s mouth already open, Kurt took the opportunity to slide his tongue along Blaine’s, the wet heat of his mouth enveloping both boys completely.
“Kurt.” Blaine moaned, pulling the taller boy closer to him.
Kurt only kissed him harder and deeper, letting his tongue do all the speaking. He was growing hard, and could feel Blaine pressed against him as well. There was a hand in his hair, his officer hat falling to the floor. The world was just them, just that wall, just their mouths together forever.
A knock on the door woke them instantly. ”Uh, guys?” Finn’s voice could be faintly heard on the other side. ”Pizza’s here. Did you get that zipper yet or…?”
Kurt blushed, even though he knew he hadn’t exactly been caught in the act. Blaine gripped his waist, planting a soft kiss on the underside of his chin. ”Love you.” He mumbled, quickly throwing on his street clothes. ”Never forget that.”
Kurt sighed. ”I won’t.” He replied. And to himself he added, “I can guarantee that.”