Hi, I'm Bron.
23 year old, Australian, ginger
Author of Spectrum and a ton of other Klainey fluff and nonsense
Sidebar image by seasonofstars ✿
punkin pie(s)
Sidebar image by seasonofstars ✿
punkin pie(s)
this is bottom!kurt smut (inspired by these pants) for julia because she’s so lovely ♥
rated NC-17 for rimming, spanking, barebacking, and mild comeplay.“So now that we’re alone…” Blaine says, crawling forward on the bed, and Kurt raises an eyebrow at him, feigning an innocent look as Blaine all but faceplants into Kurt’s lap, nuzzling shamelessly against the bulge at the front of Kurt’s mint-colored pants.
“Hmm?”
“Please let me peel these pants off you, Kurt, god,” Blaine groans, using his thumb to trace the shape of Kurt’s hard-on through his jeans, where it’s straining obscenely under the stiff material. “It’s been hell, staring at you all night.”
In 1932 America is still in the grips of the Great Depression and Blaine Anderson is fed up with his bland life in Lima, Ohio. When he decides to head to New York City in search of adventure he meets a performer named Kurt Hummel at an illegal speakeasy, and gets more excitement than he ever dreamed possible at The Oasis.
part one: The Old-Fashioned / The Manhattan / ao3
The Bee’s Knees
Stretched out on his bed, hands resting folded on his stomach, Blaine tries to think. Mostly he broods and sighs and chastises himself, just a bit. Finally, he sits up and sets his jaw and starts a letter on some of Rachel’s fancy pink flowered stationary, scribbles a few doodles and pointless squiggles, then balls it up and throws it away.
Makes himself go into the living room and pick up the phone and even gets as far as the operator asking him for the number he’s trying to reach before he hangs up.
He’s trying to reasonable, and the reasonable thing to do would be to call his parents, apologize for taking off like a thief in the dead of night and ask for money to get home. He could help out at the grocer or the bus factory for the summer to pay them back, then go to college in the fall.
And Blaine is a reasonable person, he is. Class president Blaine Anderson. Honor Roll student. Polite and well mannered and voted “Kindest Smile” and “Most Conscientious” for the Senior Superlatives.
That, of course, is exactly why he doesn’t do it.
Title: The Bunny Boy (3/6)
Rating: R, for language, violence, sexual and thematic content
Word Count: 6,400
Warnings: Death. Murder. Suicide. Violence both cartoonish and not. A lot of people die in a lot of different ways, and some may seem more tragic than others.
Summary: It’s a dead man’s party.
Notes: This AU is loosely based on the series Dead Like Me, but takes liberties with the mythology for sake of consistency and story. Undying gratitude to Andrea for helping me breathe life into it, and to Christine for helping me make sure everything was where it should be. The song being sung is Changes, by David Bowie.
Blaine stared at Puck and tried to decipher the tight-lipped grin upon his face. “Are you going to tell me why you’re so dressed up?”
Puck flipped the end of his tie and looked away as he pulled into the parking lot. “What? I’m not allowed to class it up a little? I clean up damn good, when I feel like it.”
“You look great,” Blaine said, taking in Puck’s grey slacks and black shirt. “It’s just…it’s not what I’ve come to expect from you, that’s all.”
Puck pulled into a spot and gave Blaine a look as he yanked up the parking brake. “Dude, you’ve known me for less than a week. You haven’t had time to expect anything.
Blaine ran a hand over his hair as he nodded. “I guess you’re right. It’s just that you’re usually so casual.”
“Yeah, well,” Puck said, getting out of the truck and slamming the door with a heavy thunk. “It’s kind of an important day.”
20 Year Old Lover, prompt #31
For darling Jenu who wanted Blaine being a cat papa and taking care of Fernandez while Kurt’s away, so this is that plus Blaine doing some thinking.(au in which Blaine is 20 years older than Kurt, and the story of how they got Fernandez is here, and ty to Talya for always listening when I need her to ♥)
Blaine knocks on the door when no one answers even after he rings the doorbell twice, rapping his knuckles sharply against it. They said 5pm and it’s a little over that, and Blaine can’t imagine Santana being the kind of girl who goes for long walks with the cat while she looks after it, so she should be home.
He knocks again and there’s a loud yell of something in Spanish before he hears the sound of footsteps on the floor and then the door cracks open, Santana’s head peeking out at him.
“What do you want?”
“Hello to you too, Santana, dear, you look lovely today,” Blaine says and smiles brightly at her. “I’m here to get my cat.”
“Your cat?”
“Ours. Kurt’s.” Blaine waves his hand. “Fernandez. The tiny monster. You know what I mean.”
In 1932 America is still in the grips of the Great Depression and Blaine Anderson is fed up with his bland life in Lima, Ohio. When he decides to head to New York City in search of adventure he meets a performer named Kurt Hummel at an illegal speakeasy, and gets more excitement than he ever dreamed possible at The Oasis.
part one: The Old-Fashioned / ao3
The Manhattan
Blaine feels like a live wire, cracking and sparking with electricity, and he spends the entire ride from Lima to Cleveland in this state of giddy agitation; fingers gripped to the leather seat, springs squeaking beneath him with the non-stop bouncing of his right leg.
After hauling his suitcase off of the smaller bus and onto the impressive, sleek Greyhound bound for New York his excitement has finally settled down to a low continuos current. This is it. He’s on his way.
In 1932 America is still in the grips of the Great Depression and Blaine Anderson is fed up with his bland life in Lima, Ohio. When he decides to head to New York City in search of adventure he meets a performer named Kurt Hummel at an illegal speakeasy, and gets more excitement than he ever dreamed possible at The Oasis.
track updates: #at the o
The Old-Fashioned
Graduation ends up being underwhelming, as far as major life events go. Names called, then a handshake. A smattering of applause. The mood is fitting of the sort of everyday solemnity that seems to have taken over the town.
Blaine spends a few moments chatting with and embracing those left in his class who had made it this far instead of dropping out months or years earlier to work or move away to mythical greener pastures.
He empties his locker, tucks his rolled up diploma under his arm and heads down the hallway. The drooping banner over the exit reads Congratulations Allen County Regional High Class of ’32 and when Blaine releases the heavy iron doors it flutters like the ghost it is.
Part of the Spice verse, a requested follow up to the oneshot Three. Not neccessary to read all of that though. (but you know, feel free)
“How do you feel about lingerie?”
He’s in Vegas for five days plus travel time, and Vegas is always this bizzaro Alice In Wonderland hyper-reality; a nonstop neon-colored and rhinestone-bedazzled festival of excess. Kurt always feels like he can never quite get his bearings or catch his breath, and when he does it tastes like stale cigarette smoke and Gin.
It’s only fitting he’s staying at The Mirage, seeing as it’s his final night there and he hasn’t set foot outside of the hotel since checking in, has really mostly forgotten the outside world as if it’s some sort of magician’s slight of hand illusion. And between shows and vendors, meetings and dinners and schmoozing, he barely has time to call Blaine and tell him goodnight and good morning and don’t forget to pay the water bill.
Understandably, Blaine is moping.
Anonymous asked: can you write an in-depth first time kurt gives a blowjob? with lots of his thoughts? and lot of blaine’s thoughts on the receiving end?
Kurt’s thoughts ended up being kind of rambly? This is kind of silly? But um blowjobs, so there’s that.
There had been a picnic. One bright late spring day, white puffy clouds loafing across the blue blue sky. With decadent gourmet food- what one could find in Lima, at any rate- in an actual wicker basket on an actual checkered blanket. Blaine had smiled and blinked his long eyelashes and fed him strawberries, and it was one of the sweetest, most romantic afternoons of Kurt’s life.
Even if the picnic had been in Blaine’s backyard. Even if his neighbor had been mowing his lawn with a machine that smelled like a gas leak and rumbled like the shifting of the Earth’s tectonic plates.
And then Blaine had held his hands, looked at him with those round, earnest golden eyes and said, “I’d like to discuss fellatio with you.”
Kurt has a talk with Adam
(set before 4x21, so that is where kurt’s thoughts about blaine are)With the words stuck in his throat, Kurt once again glances at the clock on the wall in the tiny kitchen of Adam’s apartment.
Thirty-two minutes since they sat down with tea and sandwiches to work on their homework and silence fell between them, thirty-two minutes since Kurt decided he was going to tell him.
The Varied Stages Of Something Unlikely ‘verse: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5a | 5b | 6
As objects move through space, some slip and rush right past each other, while others get pulled into orbit around larger objects.
And then there’s Sebastian.
eeeeeeh, not many, Fix is kind of my go to, and i’m really bad at keeping track of the shit i read. i read this a little while back, it was pretty boss. this tag is full of bad boy blaine if you want to check it out. and if you’re willing to settle for bad boy kurt, this one by alilactree is fab, and Good (You Know What I Mean) and its two sequels here and here are about as good as it gets. Oh! and Always Here in the Silence by cimmerians, so good. sorry, that’s like all bad boy!kurt >_____>
I’ve been sick all week, so I wrote smutty sick!fic, as one does.
He’s spent the last four nights waking up, several times over, to Blaine furiously trying to hack up a lung or two, then groaning and sighing and falling back into a fitful, restless sleep. Watched with concern every time Blaine winced after a mouthful of food or drink and shivered through every tablespoon of viscous, vile cough medicine. He’s frowned and waited and worried as Blaine pushed through every day bleary eyed and bedraggled, intent on taking this test or helping someone practice for auditions or help out on a friend of a friend’s roommate’s silent noir film for their final grade.
So it’s no surprise whatsoever to Kurt when he comes home from class and finds Blaine fast asleep on the couch, fully dressed and shoes still on, slumped over in the corner with one arm dangling to the side.
When Blaine is five, he gets a slight obsession with marriage.
Talks about it all the time, keeps watching his Disney movies, wants to dress in all white and play getting married with his friends, and — to his mother’s surprise — always seems to want the princess’s role.
Mrs Anderson tries not to care about it too much, although it had startled her at first when she realized, but kids talk and change so much at that age.
As long as Blaine’s happy, she can start worrying when he’s older.
“So you work in a bakery, and you’re from Essex, which is near London but is not actually London.” A frown is furrowing Sebastian’s brow as he counts off points on his fingers. “Right?”
