slowdiived
sunshine girl
i want your video 📀(requests are open fr) she/her
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𝕭𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖉. 𝕳𝖔𝖙. 𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖉.
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Kurt’s the type of guy to screenshot every nice comment on a picture you uploaded of the two of you early on in the relationship. He just wants to remember every positive thing people said about the two of you in that moment
i think he mostly does it because he just can’t fathom the fact that someone wants him and then he gets to publicly show that off. it’s kinda like giving everyone that ever said anything bad about him the finger because now he has someone who cares about him.
#kurtsworld96#kurt kunkle#kurt kunkle x reader#spree#spree movie#kurt kunkle fanfiction#kurt kunkle fic#kurt kunkle x fem reader#joe keery#kurt kunkle/reader
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Hi hi! Is there anything we as your loving followers can help you out with? 🥰
oh thank you for asking! i am all good right now, im waiting for some extra free time in my life because lately i keep getting scheduled six days a week 😐 so i’m running out of free time to write and get ideas going.
my mental health also isn’t struggling anymore and when it seems to go down, i like to write more? if that makes sense? i am trying to just recalculate myself and know what i want this blog to be and what to do with it.
i love you guys and sorry for like disappearing lol
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i am home! my lil break from writing was needed lol, i was getting such bad writers block especially trying to come up with new ideas for the steve/kurt dynamic.
i also have a little announcement, it’s not a very happy one tho :(
i have decided after i am fully done with the kurt/steve series, i am retiring from writing for kurt. i will answer all asks about him until i finish the series but once it’s done, i will forget he exists LMAO
i have just become exhausted from trying to write all the time about the same character, i just don’t have much more about kurt in me lmao. i want to start writing more for steve, maybe keys? idk yet. i definitely just need to break away from kurt. i might post random one shots of characters as well 😁
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hey y’all letting you know that i am on vacation until tuesday so i might not post very often 💙 love y’all!
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Not quite a request just.. thoughts on Muppets Haunted Mansion?? It’s definitely one of my top fave movies now!! Pepe, the one and only king prawn, needs all the hugs 💕
i love the muppets haunted mansion, it’s so slay. it’s not my fav but i LOVE pepe in it. and will arnet????? SEXY!!!!!
i just love haunted mansion content as well, i love the eddie murphy movie. it was one of favorite childhood movies <3
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Karate chopping Kurt with a miss piggy puppet lol
hhYAAA
#kurtsworld96#kurt kunkle#kurt kunkle x reader#kurt kunkle fanfiction#kurt kunkle fic#spree#spree movie#kurt kunkle x fem reader#joe keery#kurt kunkle/reader
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The Return (Boxer!Steve x Librarian!Fem!reader)
Summary: Steve makes his return to the ring, and he comes back stronger than ever.
Uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy
The Boxer!Steve Collection!
Masterlist
Warnings: general violence, dressing room smut, unprotected sex, soft dom!Steve, face-fucking.
Indianapolis, Indiana — February, 1993
Steve’s first fight back in the tournament was local —a three hour drive from Hawkins that you spent with your feet tucked up and your new book propped on your knees. Steve was mostly silent other than the odd obscenity shouted through the windshield and the occasional “okay, angel?”
Now, in the arena, he was even quieter, opting for total silence as you stomped through the tunnel, finger looped around his. You scurried to keep up with his long strides, glancing at his stony expression warily. He had been training for weeks, since the moment they lined the fight up, but something about this fight felt different.
After the Canada fiasco, the phone was ringing off the hook. Apparently getting into a fight with a famous rockstar is actually good for a boxing career. It only brought more attention to Steve, who declined interviews and appearances out of fear the only thing they’d ask him about was Eddie Munson. Steve wanted to cap off that part of your lives —he wanted to move on.
He made a promise to call his therapist at least once a week while you were on the road, and whenever he felt his anger getting the best of him. She agreed to be on call for any of his needs. And Steve had been doing well —he hadn’t had outburst in weeks. But you have a feeling something about being back in the game would bring it out of him.
In the dressing room, Steve sat, hunched, on the padded leather bench with his hands extended over the arm rest. Big began to unravel the wraps around his hands, and you watched closely from your position against the wall. The endorsement was in the corner, conversing with Mikey. You hadn't spoken to either of them very much since resuming the tournament. They came to Hawkins to train with Steve, but you kept your distance —you were still flooded with embarrassment and guilt any time you saw the men.
A pair of large headphones were resting over Steve's ears, hair pushed away from his forehead, blasting a bass-heavy song that you could hear all the way over here. His Walkman sat beside his thick thigh on the bench. And Steve's dark eyes were small, narrowed on the cinderblock wall ahead in an unblinking stare. He was in his head, readying himself for the fight —you hadn't seen him like this since the beginning of his career. He self-isolated a lot then, wouldn't talk to anyone until after the fight. He said it "fucked with his concentration."
So, you kept your distance at times like this. When his jaw was clenched and his shoulders were tense, when he didn't make eye contact and his breathing was shallow. You could practically see the moment he slipped into that King Steve headspace; how he hardened and closed off.
"Alright," Big said, tapping Steve's taped fists, having him check the comfortability, before sliding off his headphones. "Protect that left side, you hear me? He's gonna go for the left —he's a notorious switch-hitter. You gotta keep those feet movin'. First few rounds I don't want you to worry about hitting, I want you to worry about blocking."
Steve nodded curtly at Big's firm direction, though their eyes never met. But Big knew Steve was listening, could see him soaking in the direction to ready himself. Big replaced Steve's headphones and turned to you, urging you off the wall. You adjusted the hem of your dress and stepped over, flashing the hulking coach a tight-lipped smile.
"Thanks, Big."
Big stepped away and placed a meaty hand on your shoulder. A small forgiveness.
"5 minutes."
You nodded, and settled in front of Steve's legs on the bench. Mikey and the endorsement slipped out with Big, and when the room was empty, you reached up to remove Steve's headphones. You placed them on the bench and switched off his Walkman, winding up the headphones to place in your bag later. When you were done, you grabbed his gloves and undid their laces. Before you, Steve's eyes slid away from the wall to your nimble fingers, working through the ties.
Before sliding the first glove over, you bent at the waist and pressed a kiss to the rough surface of his knuckle. You wiggled the glove over his hand and pulled the laces taut, securing them the way Big had taught you to. As you bent to kiss the other knuckle, Steve released his fist and caught you by the chin. You jerked in surprise, though he was quick to steady you, using his hold to pull your head up.
You met his eyes only briefly before his mouth was against yours. A firm, authoritative kiss that tasted like protein powder. When he pulled away, he bumped your chin with his knuckle and extended his arm once more, a silent order. You complied, pushing the glove over his fist, pulling the laces around his wrist.
When both gloves were on, you placed two fingers delicately beneath his chin and tipped his head back. When your eyes locked with Steve's, you were chilled by their vacancy. Your Steve was gone right now, devoured by the ruthless, blood-hungry King of the Ring.
You nodded encouragingly at him, eyes flickering between his, bouncing briefly down toward his nose. It was starting to slant slightly to the left, just in the center of the bridge. You just hoped he wouldn't come out of the ring with a bigger scar tonight.
"You've got this," you murmured, and in your small palm, Steve nodded once again in affirmative.
A rapid knock at the door broke you from your trance, and the door swung open a moment later.
"It's time."
**
After a kiss to his knuckles directed your way, Steve went in heavy. You couldn't recall the last time you'd seen him this bestial. You could see every cord of muscle in the expanse of his broad back, stretched to their limit as his arms came sailing down against his opponent's face, swinging in circular motions to aim toward his ribs. His opponent was frequently cornered against the ropes, despite his coach's heavy screams to "get off the ropes," and "block his head."
Big bellowed encouragements from his corner, slamming a heavy palm on the mat with vigor every time Steve had his opponent swaying. When the bell rang and the fighters stalked off to the respective corners for the fifth round, his opponent limped — beaten, blood pouring in heavy streams from his nose and mouth— while Steve came away clean.
He slumped down into his chair and opened his mouth for Big to remove the mouthguard, holding his jaw apart for a stream of water that he bent to spit out. You craned to inspect his face, though there seemed to only be the smallest mark against his left cheek. A haloed, violet bruise was already beginning to form against his right rib, but Steve was otherwise blank. He flipped his hair back, damp with sweat, and turned briefly to glance your way. Your presence held him at bay, kept him grounded. The sight of your figure in the front row, your cute little coat, your pom-pom boots, the swell of heat on the apples of your cheeks —his guardian angel, keeping him safe, keeping him sane.
He tore his gaze away when he felt his heart rate slow. His body's natural reaction to the sight of you was to ease, calm into a state of relaxation. But right now, he had to be pumped up. He had to be that version of himself that you were wary of.
When the bell rang, Steve pounded his chest with his gloves, effectively kickstarting his heart and increasing his adrenaline, and bounced to the balls of his feet. You watched from your position in the front as he danced around his opponent in the center of the ring, head bobbing, fists at the ready to block, an emphasis you were certain only you could notice on his left side.
His opponent's fist darted out for a punch to the jaw, but Steve swerved, arm quickly coming down to block the second shot aimed at his side. When his opponent's arms came down from his head, Steve took the opportunity to breach the pocket created and knocked is head back with a shot to the jaw. The arena collectively groaned at the obscenity of it —blood spraying, sweat flying, his body slowly sailing toward the mat. He fell with a heavy thud that made you wince.
Steve waited, heaving, over his limp body as they counted down. You clasped your hands nervously beneath your chin and bounced your legs, thrumming with every number chanted by the arena.
"6....7....8—"
The bell dinged, signaling Steve's victory, and you leapt to your feet with a squeal. Your hands immediately came to clap together, bouncing on the tops of your toes with delight. When they held his arm up and waved his gloved fist, Steve immediately searched for you in the crowd. When he found you he waved you over, and you took off in a sprint.
You scaled the ropes and shoved yourself against his corner, clinging to the side of the ring as Steve tucked his glove under your chin. The metallic scent of blood and the musky scent of sweat washed over you immediately, sprinkled with wet dollops when Steve flicked his chin to move his hair out of his eyes. He dipped down and slotted his mouth over yours, devouring you with warm, chapped lips. When your hands slid against his cheeks, you could feel his skin buzzing with adrenaline. The energy he worked up during a fight came alive in his bones, making them vibrate, making them hum —he was scorching hot to the touch and couldn't keep still.
The moment he pulled away, the roar of the crowd came rushing back to you and left your ears ringing. Steve's lips slid into a sideways smile, his silent thank you, still floating in that King Steve headspace, only half lucid and aware. But you were patient, smiling sweetly in return.
Steve snatched your arm by the wrist and lifted it into the air, turning to face the crowd behind you. Their volume only increased at the affection, whistles and screams now at a deafening pitch. You giggled, cheeks swelling with heat, and Steve waved his free hand, encouraging their celebratory chanting.
Crowding in close, Steve wedged himself between your palms and pressed the warmth of his forehead to yours, coating it in slick sweat.
"They love you, baby!" he shouted over their screams.
You smiled.
"It's you they love!"
And they did. The writhing and chanting masses adored Steve Harrington, The King of the Ring. But standing here, between your hands, slumped against the ropes, Steve still didn't believe it.
**
Steve rushed everyone out of the dressing room after the fight, and it only took a few moments for you to figure out why. The second the door was shut, Steve was on you, plowing you into the leather bench with an eager kiss. You giggled against his mouth, hands flying to his slick shoulders. They were still hot, still pulsing under your hand.
"St-Stevie," you mumbled, pushing at his arms.
You gasped when his teeth sank into your bottom lip, tugging, releasing only when a metallic taste filled his mouth again. Your head went flying back when he pulled at your hair, baring your throat, latching onto your favorite spot. You groaned at the tingling sparks of pleasure that erupted through your body, the pressure of his mouth and his teeth; his wet, hot tongue on your skin making your thighs close around his hips. Your fingers feathered their way through the damp mop of his hair as he moved his open mouth along your throat, blowing hot air and eliciting goosebumps along the way.
You shivered when he kissed the juncture between your ear and jaw and heard him chuckle.
"So sensitive tonight, hmm?" he grumbled against your neck, evoking another shudder at the low rumble of his voice.
Your head bobbed mutely, conditioned to respond. Steve's taped hands were rough against your waist, rubbing through the fabric of your dress. Your head tipped involuntarily toward his mouth when he latched on again, fingers curling around the damp strands of hair in reach as your eyes pinched closed. Your cunt throbbed with need where it was pressed against his clothed cock, and your heels dug into the bottom of his spine where your legs were wrapped tightly around his hips.
"Gonna have to be fast," Steve muttered gruffly, and then his hand was descending beneath your dress to push your panties aside.
When you slid your thighs apart, hips tilting, the fabric of your dress gathered at the tops of your thighs and around your hips; bearing yourself to him. He pulled away from your neck to get a look, groaning at the sight of your slick, puffy lips waiting for him. His hair dangled in his eyes when he tipped his head down, and you marveled at the sight of him looming over you —his splotchy pink cheeks, his glistening skin, his rosy, swollen lips, the curve in his nose.
Steve lifted his eyes back to yours again, inching forward until your lips melded together once more. His gauzed fingers scraped your thighs as he slid your panties from your hips and down your legs, letting them dangle like a lacey anklet around your foot. He swiped the callused pads of his fingertips through your wet heat, pulling a hiss from your mouth, smushed against his. Steve’s breathing was shallow, hot and heavy on your tongue.
“Think you can be quiet f’ me?” he mumbled into your mouth.
You nodded, and though he was doubtful, Steve removed his fingers from your slick and reached for the waistband of his shorts. But, impatient and needy, you batted his hands away, pulling blindly at the familiar ties, tugging at the silky red material. Steve chuckled, lips sliding against your cheek, hands coming to brace your waist.
"Someone's eager, hmm? You need me that bad, angel?"
Your nod was accompanied by a breathy whimper, and Steve cooed at the sweet sound. He pulled back, an inch of space between your bodies. His lips were swollen where they brushed against yours, and you could feel him pulsing against your hand as you slid your palm down the trail of dark hair from his navel to his crotch. He seemed unaffected by your touch, transfixed on your eyes, tunnel-visioned by your gaze. And you were peering back, hypnotized by his godly glory, looming over you.
The room seemed to fall to silence, the fluorescents darkening like a halo around Steve. Nothing mattered but him.
When he spoke, his voice was a warm whisper. "Ask me for it."
The soft demand was like a punch to your heart; a jolt of excitement sparked through your chest. You swallowed, and Steve watched your eyes round wantingly, your lips part into the softest circle.
"Please, Steve," you whispered in return.
Steve's eyes flickered between yours, wonderment touching his features beautifully.
"Please what?" That same hushed voice seemed to crawl from his mouth and trickle down your spine like a shiver.
You inhaled sharply through your open mouth, running a finger through the patch of hair beneath your hand. Steve's jaw clenched, muscle bouncing with the tightness of his teeth. A bead of sweat rolled down a blue vein in his forehead. You slid your free hand away from his bicep to wipe it away, thumb brushing his hot skin tenderly.
"Please fuck me."
And though it wasn't a question like he had asked for, Steve was more than willing to oblige.
He tore his hands away from your waist and shoved at his shorts, tugging you by the backs of your thighs to sit flush against him. You flattened against the leather bench, smooth and plush against your spine, and tipped your head down to watch him approach you. His cock, hard and fisted in his veined hand, tickled your slick folds for a moment before he was plunging in.
Your head fell back like a heavy weight, smacking the bench noisily. Steve's fingers found purchase on the fat of your hips, using his grip to finish pulling you down to impale you completely. When he was nestled deep in your cunt, a throaty groan left him. This was relief —this was victory. Stretching your sweet cunt, feeling your walls conform to the shape of him, your warm slick drenching him. He was content just standing here, being squeezed by you, feeling your soft skin, watching you writhe and sweat just from him.
But he began to rock, shaking the bench on its metal legs, pulling squeaks from your throat. Steve tipped his chin down to watch your face twist with agonizing pleasure, your jaw hang open with heavy breaths echoed through swollen lips. Your eyes pinched closed and Steve's hand shot out to wrap around your jaw, pulling your head down, centering it again. The pads of his fingers bit into the bone and caused your eyes to pop open.
"Eyes on me, baby —yeah, there you go," he cooed, lip quirking at your eager submission.
You were practically going crosseyed beneath him as he fucked into you steadily, slowly, rhythmically. Each push and pull into your cunt made a wet, slick squelch. The dressing room took on your scent —your sweet, syrupy, salty scent. He felt his chest constrict when it washed over him, felt his heart stutter when you cried out and tightened your legs around his hips. The bluntness of his nails dug into your hip, pulling another cry that Steve silenced by slotting his mouth over yours.
"Shh, shh," he admonished softly, lips smushed against yours.
And his hips never stopped moving, the bulbous tip of his cock brushing your gummy walls in smooth glides each time he retreated, only to be sucked back in by your tightness. His fingers tightened around your jaw again, squishing your cheeks together, puckering your lips. Using his grip on your face, Steve shoved your head aside, baring your throat to him once more. He dipped to your warm, inviting skin, and latched on. You squealed, toes curling in your heels around Steve's back.
His teeth sank into the crook of your shoulder and you pinched your eyes closed, letting your hands sink into his damp hair. You fisted the strands desperately, evoking a sting in his scalp that made him grunt against your neck. The sound rumbled through you and caused you to pulse around him. Only the loud grunt roared from his throat warned you before he was slamming into you hard, bumping you up the leather bench, knocking it off balance momentarily. His cock lodged itself as far as it could go, bulging the pouch beneath your navel, brushing your furthest pleasure point.
Your mouth hung open in a silent cry at the pressure gathering in your belly, the sting in your walls, being stretched to their limit. Steve released the skin of your throat with a wet pop, the patch where his teeth left their mark now slick and cool. He crowded you, loosening his grip around your jaw, and pulled your chin down to lock eyes.
"Breathe, baby, breathe," he murmured softly, and he waited until you sucked in a sharp breath to shift his hips.
You whined, hand flying to his bicep to grip it tight. Your nails bit into the firm muscle and he nodded, hand sliding from your jaw to your forehead, where he smoothed away your hair. He cradled it, arm crowding your head, hot breath fanned across your face as he gently fucked into you, never straying far from that deep pit he had discovered. He wished he could pull back and admire the bulge of your belly, the outline of his cock against your muscles, but then he'd break this trance that the two of you seemed to be put into.
You blinked up dazedly at him, entirely gone, completely fucked out. And Steve admired that drunk haze that glossed over your eyes, flushed your cheeks, rendered you stupid and useless. He smiled at it, a soft and sideways quirk of his lip.
"Yeah, feel me in there, angel?"
You blinked in acknowledgement —it was all you could manage. Steve inspected your gaze and nodded again. He nipped absently at your lip, ran his wet mouth over your jawbone. He smeared your lipstick and smudged your concealer, made your mascara flake and all the product in your hair tangle into a matted mess. But you didn't care.
He was claiming you, and that was all that mattered.
A few more humps and your legs were shaking, but Steve wasn't satisfied enough. He slid his hand from your hip to the apex of your thighs, locating your soft nub immediately. A hiccuped cry ripped from your throat when his thumb began working over your clit, rubbing around slick, stinging sensitive nerves.
"Shh, shh," Steve admonished again, pressing a chaste kiss to your mouth, sticky and hot. "Y' wanna cum? Hmm? Y' gonna cum, angel?"
Your heavy panting was enough of an answer, and Steve nosed your head aside again.
"Go on," he mumbled into your jaw, lips pressing firmly after. "Gimme it, angel, wanna feel it."
Like your body had been trained to follow his command, you spasmed around him. His thumb continued its ministrations, forming circles on your puffy clit, pulling convulsions from your tired limbs. Steve steadied you with his hand against the crown of your head, soft shushes whispered from his mouth, gentle guidances through your orgasm. He stopped only when you pushed at his arm, eyes squeezed shut, face twisted with misery.
He escaped your cunt with a noisy squelch, dripping cum against the leather, coating his palm when he fisted his cock and tugged.
In another conditioned response, you slithered from the bench and sank to your knees, mouth finding home over his slick cock. It tasted entirely of yourself, and if only in search of his familiar musky, salty taste, you began to suck the creamy spend from his length with vigor. His hands flew to your hair, fingers burrowing in its heap, tightening when your cheeks hollowed and your suction intensified.
"Fuck, angel. Such a good girl, look a' you."
Steve watched your lashes flutter, your thighs clench and shake, still entirely unsteady from having been fucked. Your swollen lips were wrapped beautifully around him, his cock lodged in the tight channel of your throat like it belonged there. You looked as pleased to have him in your mouth as he was to be there. He fisted your hair and watched your brows furrow at the sting. But his hips were moving on their own, fucking up into your mouth, searching for his release.
"Fuck, fuck, so good —gonna-gonna c-cum —shit!"
His milky spend coated your throat like cough medicine, thick and tangy. You suckled absently until he softened against your tongue, and when he slipped from your lips, your head followed. Steve chuckled, loosening his hand to smooth it over your hair. He nudged your head back with his knuckles beneath your chin, and your lips parted without instruction.
Steve hummed at the sight of his cum on your tongue, pooling in the back of your throat. Your tongue trembled with eagerness, and he slid his forefinger along the wet muscle just to feel its warmth.
"Swallow for me, angel."
Your lips closed and your throat bobbed as you gulped it down nosily, and when you were done, you held your tongue out for inspection. Steve's thumb pressed into your chin, giving it a little shake. His eyes were hooded, narrowed with exhaustion, though smug satisfaction lied clear on his face.
It was at times like these that he really felt like King Steve.
Steve helped you to your feet, bringing your limp arms to loop around his neck. You leaned into him and sighed dreamily, a heavy breath echoed against his neck that made Steve rumble with laughter. You were too fucked out to even hold on, so loose and limp that he had to carry you to the shower.
"Did s' good, Stevie," you mumbled against his chest as he turned the knob for the shower.
Steve chuckled again, shifting you to one side so he could pull at your zipper.
"Yeah? At which part —fighting, or fucking you?"
Your eyes were firmly closed, but a dopey smile spread across your lips.
"Both."
**
"Steve! Steve, put me down!"
Your voice shook with laughter as Steve sprinted through the parking lot, escaping Big and Mikey and the gaggle of security that had been hired for the event. You were slung over his shoulder, muscular arm wrapped around the back of your thighs to keep you latched on. Your forehead bumped his butt with every leap toward the Cadillac, and you were a fit of limbs and giggles as he continued on.
"See you tomorrow, Harrington! Bright and early!" Big bellowed from across the lot.
"Yeah!" Steve called back in affirmative.
He shuffled to a stop, sneakers crunching against the asphalt as he came to the car. You heard his keys jingling and then the click of the door unlocking. You squeaked at the sting that suddenly gathered in your asscheek, lifting your head.
"Hey!" you protested playfully.
Steve grunted as he hoisted you off and set you down, hands grasping your hips to slam you into the door. You giggled at the keys dangling between his teeth, held by the tiger keychain. He waggled his brows, hands gliding up and down your sides. You reached up and snatched the keys from his mouth, holding them in a closed fist. With his mouth freed, Steve grinned and dipped down, closing the distance between you with a gentle kiss to your mouth. You let your head fall back against the roof of the car when he pulled away, blinking dazedly at him.
"What d'ya say we take this party somewhere quieter, champ?"
Steve's eyes bulged with delight at your seductive inquiry, bending again to snap at your lips. He pulled away with a sharp smack, rolling his lip between his teeth. When he spoke, his voice had a gravely rasp to it that made you shiver. It usually came when he was issuing a warning.
"I'd say you're crazy, baby. You know I've still got six rounds left in me."
**
Ah, simple Steve fic. I missed the times of fight, fuck, repeat. A little palate cleanser that no one is going to read because no one reads my stuff anymore 💗
xoxoxo Roller Girl 🛼
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Honestly I love checking out other accounts on here and seeing you in the notes it’s like hey what’s up bestie lmao
LMFAO THATS SO FUNNY 🤭 i like forget that people can see me outside of me posting LMFAO but good thing you have such good taste bc i only like the best of the best <3
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I feel like if you were Kurt’s friend and you casually just sat on his lap for the first time he’d be fighting for his life to keep his boner under control
of course, he has never had someone sit on his lap before. and the way you accidentally scoot against his dick just made him go through every bad thing that ever happened to him so his boner would stay in his boxers.
it’s like the episode of that 70s show where eric kissed lori’s friend and he has to go through a bunch of depressing things before he gets up so she doesn’t notice how absolutely horny he is.
#kurtsworld96#kurt kunkle#kurt kunkle x reader#kurt kunkle fanfiction#kurt kunkle fic#spree#spree movie#kurt kunkle x fem reader#joe keery#kurt kunkle/reader
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Okay but Kurt huddling this tiny baby, his baby, his and your baby, somehow so small, in his arms. Protectively, just like he was over you. Away from the loud crackhead who’d woken them up on their way to the car and was vaguely threatening his upset baby with a broken bottle. Not threatening Kurt, threatening his baby. Kurt lays them down in their car seat, putting on their soothing playlist, before deadly calmly turning around, and beating this man to death. He’d never beaten someone to death before. But with the triggers about his dad, him being a new dad, and this man threatening his baby’s life, something that can’t even hold their head up on their own yet... Kurt is murdering him. And then wiping his hands clean before making sure his baby is warm enough again, driving them home and actually wanting to be the one to change them and hold them and rock them to sleep in a rarer moment
i think in that moment he has a sense as well of how his dad must’ve felt having him. it’s a new life that he doesn’t know how to take care of, something he wasn’t ready for yet. he obviously had a sense of love for the child, but it was nothing below the surface level of ‘you’re my baby and i have to make sure you don’t die or get sick or hurt yourself’.
in that moment he could feel this powerful feeling of knowing that this child needed him, it wasn’t some burden placed upon him. he needed to do what he could for a life that he shared with you. you whom he loved more than anything. it was like he grew up for a second, that he left that ‘im going to do the bare minimum’ mindset. his brain went through fight or fought and he had to fight.
#kurtsworld96#kurt kunkle#kurt kunkle x reader#kurt kunkle fanfiction#kurt kunkle fic#spree#spree movie#kurt kunkle x fem reader#joe keery#kurt kunkle/reader
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Do you think Steve would neglect the baby if it was Kurt's or still take care of it??
he would take care of the baby, no matter what. he will treat them like they’re his own, make sure he can be a better dad than kurt could ever fathom.
#kurtsworld96#kurt kunkle#kurt kunkle x reader#kurt kunkle fanfiction#kurt kunkle fic#spree#spree movie#kurt kunkle x fem reader#joe keery#kurt kunkle/reader#steve harrington x fem reader#steve harrington fic#steve harrington/reader#steve stranger things#steve harrington x reader#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things
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I feel like Kurt loves the feeling of going down on you
OH ONE HUNDRED PERCENT!
he likes when he does it because it gives him the control to absolutely make you squirm and cry. he is also a big thigh guy (my number 1 kurt hc) so he loves when you squeeze your thighs against him, essentially trapping him and it fuels him to go faster. he loves hearing your moans and the way you grip onto his hair, the way he looks up and you both lock eyes until you throw your head back.
he just also loves the way you taste <3
#kurtsworld96#kurt kunkle#kurt kunkle x reader#kurt kunkle fanfiction#kurt kunkle fic#spree#spree movie#kurt kunkle x fem reader#joe keery#kurt kunkle/reader
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Kurt liking when you shower at his because you use his body wash/shampoo/conditioner etc. You smell like him. And it’s not something like a pic he can put on Instagram and show the world, but he knows. He knows you smell like him. And hey if people you see irl know too that’s p cool as well
“hey,” you came into the room, dressed with a towel on your head. “thanks for letting me shower.”
“of course,” he gently smiled from his bed, crawling to the edge to meet you. “y-you are always welcome to shower here, especially since you are spending the night like every night.”
you giggle and thank him, your hand rubbing against his cheek. he could smell his body wash on you, his chest fluttering. his thoughts all disappeared and he was totally just zoned in on you.
he watches as you pulled away from him, pulling the towel off your head. you gently brushed your hair with the brush you brought from home then putting it up so it was out of your face. he stood up and came behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his lips against your shoulder.
as you melted into him, he gently took a sniff of you again. he couldn’t believe that you didn’t use the other products he had in the shower, you used his. you deliberately wanted to smell like him, it blew his mind. you wanted him to linger on your skin just like how he wants you to linger on him. it was something so small but so important for him. that meant that you two had finally gotten to the point of needing each other, of needing to be as close as possible.
he loved that feeling.
#kurtsworld96#kurt kunkle#kurt kunkle x reader#kurt kunkle fanfiction#kurt kunkle fic#spree#spree movie#kurt kunkle x fem reader#joe keery#kurt kunkle/reader
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Sorry if someone’s asked you this before, but how would Kurt react if you called yourself ugly?
no one has! you are all good 💙 and don’t be afraid to request anything, i get a lot of asks that get buried, repeats are bound to happen!
kurt would be personally offended. like he thinks you are beautiful and now you are telling him he is wrong? what the fuck?
he would try everything he could to make you feel beautiful, kissing your face all over, constantly telling you how beautiful you are, even posting as many pictures of you as he can on his socials to show you off. he wants you to see yourself the way he sees you <3
#kurtsworld96#kurt kunkle#kurt kunkle x reader#kurt kunkle fanfiction#kurt kunkle fic#spree#spree movie#kurt kunkle x fem reader#joe keery#kurt kunkle/reader
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oddly specific kurt kunkle request? reader works in retail and one day they complain to their boyfriend kurt about a regular customer (a creepy old man who keeps hitting on reader and making them super uncomfortable), so kurt kills the creepy dude?
i have a guy at my job that is literally a fucking perv so i had some ideas LMFAO
“it’s just really pissing me off,” you ranted as you paced around the living room. “this dude has to be like 60 years old, i’m telling you… and he wouldn’t stop putting his hand on my back every time he made me bend down to show him the stupid iphone chargers.”
kurt watched you, his head turning every direction you went in. he was sitting on the couch furious, his arms crossed against his chest. he was sick with the thoughts of some creepy old man taking advantage of your store’s customer service policy just to get close to you.
“that’s so messed up,” he sighed, laying his back against the leather cushion. “did you tell anybody?”
“yes!” you threw your arms up in anger. “i told like two of mycoworkers on the registers and they just tried to tell me he was ‘being nice.’ it’s a load of bullshit.”
you hated your retail job. you hated it so much. you worked at a failing business that tended to only attract older people with no clue of social norms. mostly it was just having to deal with out of touch people, mean and grumpy at your explanations, and help. you learned to deal with it, your benefits were nice and you got a decent paycheck, but some days you wanted to just chop your head off in front of the whole store to scar everyone in sight. maybe that would make people start to change.
you just learned to cope the best you could, but today was different.
“maybe bring it up with your general manager?” he tried to propose a solution. “i don’t know, i-i’ve never really worked retail before.”
“i wish it was that simple,” you sat down next to him. “he comes in every week and is normal to everyone else, except me. i just feel gross, like i want to cut off the chunk of skin he kept touching.”
“i’m sorry,” he put an arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer and touching his head to yours. “it will get better, maybe just bring his name up to one of your managers and maybe he will get banned.”
“i guess you are right,” you turned to face him. “thank you for letting me rant to you, i know that was probably annoying and all.”
“no,” he kissed your cheek. “it wasn’t at all, im glad you told me.”
he had so many thoughts racing through his head, he could see this man touching you, your face of pure disgust and worry. it made him so enraged, his fingernails digging into his palm as he tried his best to contain himself. he got pretty good at masking his anger, especially in front of you. he never wanted to scare you off with the dark thoughts and actions that ran through him.
he had a plan though. he knew this guy’s routine from all your stories you had told him the last few weeks. he thought about stalking the store, seeking out the guy, following him home, and then beating the ever living shit out of him. watching the older man’s frail bones break as kurt just broke him into a million pieces.
-
“hey uh, it’s (y/n), was just calling to see if you are okay, it’s been like three hours since you got done driving and you said you were bringing dinner. just call me back when you get the chance, just a little worried.”
it was already eight pm and you hadn’t heard anything from kurt since he got off of spreeing for the day. you texted him a few times, shocked when he wasn’t quick to answer. that boy practically lives on his phone, he texts you a billion times a day checking in on you, but today was different. you tried to just tell yourself that he got caught up in something, maybe his dad needed a ride somewhere. he usually begged kurt to take him to the most outlandish of places so you tried your best to believe your made up story.
you had taken a shower once you got home around four, made yourself look good for your boyfriend. you were gonna eat dinner with him then hope you guys would get to messing around a bit, maybe show off your new underwear you hadn’t had a proper chance to debut to him yet. it was really bothering you that he hadn’t said a word for hours.
before you could worry anymore, kurt had stumbled through the door, slamming it once he got inside. you ran from your room to the living room to see him, happy that he was alive. you were about to report him as missing due to your dramatics.
“hey is everything okay?” you had thrown yourself around him, his arms tightening around you.
“oh yeah,” he spoke into your ear. “just had to take care of something a-and my phone died.”
you pulled away, hands now holding his. he smiled at you, his eyes bright and happy. all your worries went away, his face being enough o make you feel okay.
“did you get dinner?” you asked, starving from not eating since your lunch.
“i was thinking i could take you out,” his grin made your heart flutter. “anywhere you want to go, it’s on me.”
you nodded.
“honestly can we just sit inside taco bell?” you giggled. “i just really want a beefy burrito right now.”
“yeah of course,” he kissed your forehead. “anything for you.”
you told him you would be right back, going to your room to get a pair of shoes on. he sat on the couch for a moment and let out a huff, his mind fuzzy.
he would do anything to make you happy, he loves making you happy. he wants to be your saving grace, your only hope. he looked down at his jacket, smiling at the tiny bloodstain that was left on him. it was all for you, it’s always going to be for you. he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“okay i’m read-“ you stopped for a moment as you noticed a blood smear from the side of his temple down to his ear. “… hey are you bleeding?”
his hand shot to the side of his face that your eyes were fixated on, his fingers grazing the dried blood. he pulled down his hand to look at it and sure enough, there was dried blood that bunch up on his pointer and middle finger.
“oh uh,” he pretended to look as shocked as he possibly could. “i hit my head on the uh… side of my door today w-when getting gas. i was trying to uh… hurry for my next passenger, i didn’t notice i was bleeding.”
he stood up and went to your bathroom, quickly turning in the sink. he pulled out a washcloth from your drawer, soaking it then scrubbing at his temple.
you followed in shortly after, nervous that he had really hurt himself. you tried to get up close to inspect the suspected wound but he pulled away from you.
“oh i-i’m okay,” he finished cleaning it off. “it’s just a tiny scratch on my scalp, nothing major.”
“are you sure?” you tried to reach for him again. “let me check it for you-“
“no it’s fine i promise,” he put the cloth on the counter. “we should get to t-taco bell before they close.”
you nodded and turned around, heading out the restroom door. kurt looked in the mirror one last time, the events of the day playing through his head.
he punched the guy in the face, as hard as he could. the man stumbled to the ground of his front lawn, groaning at the impact. kurt through another hard hitter, the man passing out.
he had put him in his car and drove him to the junkyard, his usual place for his victims. he layer his body against the gravel in front of his car, waiting for the man to wake up again. he was growing impatient, the pocket knife on his key opened and ready to be used. kurt decided to stab him in the side repeatedly, the old man awakening to the pain. he looked at kurt with eyes of terror, his hand reaching for the bloody wound.
“this is what you get m-mother fucker,” he stuttered, stabbing him again.
the man tried to grab kurt with his bloody hand, the liquid smearing against the side of his head.
“are you coming or what?” you asked, breaking him out of his memory.
“y-yeah,” he turned off the light and head to you. “just wanted to say i love you.”
“i love you.” he gave you a kiss on your cheek.
#kurtsworld96#kurt kunkle#kurt kunkle x reader#kurt kunkle fanfiction#kurt kunkle fic#spree#spree movie#kurt kunkle x fem reader#joe keery#kurt kunkle/reader
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