moan - k.k.
contains: nsfw, 18+ 3.9k wc, switch!kurt x switch!reader, onlyfans fem!reader, assplay, gunplay, dacryphilia, sort of dubcon elements i suppose?, stalkerish kurt, choking (minimal), degrading and dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex, recording during sex, please consume carefully!
notes: of couuuuurse this is for my love my light bambi (boom boom boom) uhh i struggled writing this bc i didnt know if i was doing too much or not enough?? but i do hope its good.. i worked very hard. as alwayyys, listen to the song ive linked while reading this, OH and also this is a pt 2 to strict machine but it shouldn't be too confusing if u havent read that :)
taglist: @girliism, @imperishablereverie, @musingsofheaven, @yardofbrunettes, @forgetmenotnympho, @sweetheartfaist, @sweetestfaiszts, @hangels, @cowboyfaists, @jesuistrestriste (adding @pittsick and @222col, my kunkleheads) . click here to be added !
listen while you read
@girliism my place at 6. bring the gun.
You’re watching your phone anxiously as you pace back and forth across your apartment, your quiet padding steps echoing in your ears. You had sent the message nearly three hours ago, along with your address. The two checkmarks that showed the recipient had seen the message popped up nearly a millisecond after you sent it, but there had been no response. When you check the time, it’s five minutes till six.
You weren’t really sure why you had messaged him in the first place– his profile stared back at you, taunting and cruel. KurtsWorld69. You hadn’t seen him in weeks, but you were sure he was still lurking around. Peering in through windows and climbing up the fire escape to watch you while you slept. Taking photos of you from outside your apartment when you least expected it, and mailing you the pictures with dried cum all over them. Commenting on your streams, spamming links to his Twitch account and promoting his Instagram. Fucking irritating– but for some reason, you didn’t block him. You just couldn’t.
After a while of his silent intrusion into your way of living, you’d bitten the bullet. Made your bed, set up a discreet camera in the corner, and sent Kurt your address. And now you’re just waiting, like a prisoner on death row awaiting their slaughter.
It’s two minutes till six when you break out of your reverie, and you peek past the curtains to check the parking lot in front of your apartment. There’s no new cars pulling up or already parked, and you sigh in frustration, running a hand through your hair. He’d better show up. It’s exactly 5:59 when flickering headlights turn into the parking lot, stopping in front of your apartment complex. You close the curtains and check your hair and makeup in your phone camera, hearing footsteps coming up the stairs. You tug down the hem of your top, making sure to leave just a sliver of underboob, just as three knocks sound on your door. Confident and loud, like he isn’t scared of getting caught. You check the time– 6 pm exactly.
You toss your hair back and open the door slowly. There he is. His hair definitely looked less greasy than last time, damp and scented with some sort of tropical shampoo. At least he was trying. His eyes seem to light up at the sight of you, and he leaned forward, as if about to kiss you–
You wrinkle your nose and dodge, opening the door wider. “Come on in,” you say, shutting the door quickly and locking it behind you. He’s taken his shoes off, shuffling around your apartment and taking note of the one door that’s left ajar, leading to your bedroom.
“I like your place,” he comments, acting like he hasn’t been peeking in every night, watching your every movement until you disappear behind closed doors.
You roll your eyes, leading him over to the bedroom. “Please. I’m not fucking stupid.”
“I never said you were,” he feigns innocence, willingly letting you sit him down on the bed. Good. He’s pliant, allowing you to control his body. He’s already hard in his jeans, and you brush over the straining denim lightly, smiling at the way his body stiffens up.
“You know I see you every night, right?” you ask rhetorically, towering over him with your hands on his shoulders. You know he knows. He wants to be caught, with the way he always leaves a window open or drops little notes around your place. Kurt only shrugs in response, a bashful smile on his face.
“Maybe I want you to see me,” he suggests, and you just scoff in response. He looks around the room, narrowing his eyes as he observes. “Where’s the camera? We’re– I mean, you invited me over to collab, right?”
You shake your head, leaning against the dresser. “Not yet. Think of this as a trial run. Y’know, like a chemistry reading,” you lie, watching as his face brightens and he nods eagerly.
“Oh! Okay, okay,” he bobbles his head, beaming. “Hey, what if we take, like, a before and after photo? Then you can tag me on your Instagram story or something, like, confirming our collab–”
Your hand shoots out to grip his shoulder, manicured nails digging into soft fabric. “This is not a fucking collab,” you snarl, watching his pretty brown eyes dilate. “Stop fucking calling it that. I don’t even follow your goddamn Instagram.”
His lips are parted in a silent shock, and he nods dazedly, body still stiff as you withdraw your hand from his shoulder. “...You should follow me,” he meeps out hesitantly, “I post, uh- vlogs, and stuff, it’s all really high quality..”
Kurt quiets down with one sharp look from you, your hands dragging down his neck gently. “Did you bring it?” you ask, a warning tone in your voice. He nods frantically and pulls it out from the waistband of his jeans, slowly sliding it across the bed instead of handing it to you.
You take it with shaking hands, feeling the cool metal press into your hot skin. It’s heavy, and you aren’t exactly sure how to hold it. “Is it loaded?”
Kurt seems to hesitate, before shaking his head slowly. You arch an eyebrow and he caves. “It is,” he says, and you set it down gingerly, like a ticking bomb in your hands.
Your hands reach down to his jeans, watching his face closely when his breathing begins to stutter. You unbutton them, slowly zipping down the fly and massaging him through the fabric. “You hard already?” you ask, knowing full well what the answer was, considering you were palming his cock through the thin layer of cotton.
He nods eagerly, watching with rapt attention as you squeeze his length, fabric darkening with pre-cum as his breathing grows more shallow. “Yeah– Yeah, I am– jus’ for you,” he pants, biting back his whimpers when you slowly pull down his boxers, letting his cock thwack against his stomach.
“What did you think was gonna happen when you showed up?” you ask him, stroking his length and watching it slick up with pre. “That I’d let you fuck me and give you a shoutout on my story?” You lean in close, licking up his neck and tasting his sweat, before leaving a sweet kiss under his ear. “You’re so fucking disgusting. As if I’d ever let you fuck me.” You pull away from his cock and stand up, walking to the side of the room and hearing him whimper.
“Wait, what are y–?” You whip back around at the sound of his trembling voice, the gun now tight in your grip from where you picked it up. It weighs heavy in your hand as you point it across the room at him, watching his face pale.
“Don’t move,” you say, both hands on the gun as you slowly approach him. The floorboards creak under each and every step, and the gun shakes in your hands. “Not. A fucking. Muscle.”
You crawl beside him on the bed with the gun pointed at his face, watching as he slowly lays down at your prompting. “I’m not gonna do anything to you,” he whispers, pupils blown out as he stares into the barrel of the gun. “I wasn’t going to. That wasn’t my pla–”
You shush him with a press of the cold metal to his temple, his eyes darting side to side at the feeling of it pressing into his skin. “On your stomach,” you order, voice hushed. He obeys in that slow, languid pace that seems to have taken over his body, a response to the fear. You tug down his boxers when he’s lying on his stomach with his face in the pillow, gripping a handful of his ass and digging your nails in. “Where’d you get this?” you ask, referring to the gun.
He exhales sharply, whimpering when you dig the gun harsher into his flesh. “From my friend,” he mewls out, before correcting himself. “Well– he’s not my friend, per se. I kinda killed him. With that gun. But he deserved it.” Kurt’s entire body is flushed red, which you can see when you gently peel his shirt off, tossing it aside. To see the man who’d been terrorizing you for the past few weeks down to this level was satisfying, making your core ache with need.
“How many people have you killed with this?” you ask, spreading his cheeks and laying a gentle kiss on the soft skin of his ass, prompting a quiet whimper from him as you keep massaging him.
“I-I dunno– like, m-maybe two or three? I don’t like to use guns th-that much,” he admits, hissing through his teeth when you press your thumb against the rim of his asshole, pressing ever-so-slightly past the ring of muscle. The gun is still in your other hand, pressed firmly to his temple, and you can feel his body shaking with your movements– or maybe just with fear.
You don’t grant him a response, slowly pulling the gun away from his head and sitting your weight down on the back of his legs. You’re slick with anticipation, soaking through your panties and making his calves sticky, the sensation making him shudder. Your hands splay across his back, nails gently brushing against the freckles that span across his skin. “I should have shot you by now,” you whisper, knowing damn well you have no clue how to shoot a gun.
He whimpers when he feels the cold revolver touch his skin, prodding at his ass. “But?” he asks, his voice wavering and pitching up as you press it in deeper, just barely past his rim.
You take note of the way he seems to clench– squeezing around the muzzle, his breathing becoming slow and labored. “But,” you choose to toy with him a bit, not pushing the gun in any further, “I’ve been thinking too much about you.” It’s spoken quietly like the confession of a sin, your voice hushed and delicate. Shards of stained glass that seem to pepper in Kurt’s skin, colors reflecting in the light from the way you speak so gently to him, while defiling him. “Constantly thinking about you,” you add on, drawing a delighted shudder from his body, limp beneath you.
You press the muzzle deeper into his ass, causing his hips to jerk a bit. You place a firm hand on his lower back, nails digging in. “I’m not done talking,” you snap, making him still. The metal of the revolver is heating up ever so slightly, and the plastic grip is slick with your sweat– a combination of anxiety and arousal. The muzzle goes in tantalizingly smooth, pushing past a practically non-existent barricade as you push it a few inches deeper. “I know you’ve been thinking about me too,” you whisper, beginning to slowly grind down onto his calves. “I mean, of course you have. That’s why you’ve been fucking stalking me. Perv.”
Kurt whines at that, and you take note of how his cock seems to twitch when you say that. “I wasn’t st-stalking you,” he stammers, trying to hopelessly defend himself, “I just- You’re s-so pretty, and I really wanted to post you on my story, I can’t- oh, God- please, please, you’re so gorgeous…”
You sharply push the revolver in until the top strap hits his skin, Kurt’s whole body jerking as his hips jump. “Fuck!” he yelps, arching his back and moaning into the pillow as the muzzle bumps against his prostate.
You sneer at his reaction, the slutty arch of his body as he grinds his neglected cock down onto the mattress, and you press the gun in further, just to pull a pathetic whimper from his lips. “You’re disgusting,” you spit at him, wrinkling your nose at how he whines in agreement. “Getting fucked by your own gun. And you like this shit, don’t you?” You thrust the revolver in, and he nods, choking on his own words. “Don’t you?”
“Ye-yeah, ffffuck, I do, I r-really do, shit-!” He’s gripping at the bedsheets like that could save him, mouth parted in a slack ‘O’ as you grind your sensitive clit onto his calf, watching with rapt attention at the way his body jerks and heaves as you fuck him harder.
“Yeah? Fuckin’ slut likes that I could just pull the trigger at any moment?” you taunt, leaning forward to grip one hand tightly around the back of his neck. Your pebbled nipples swoop over his skin under the thin fabric of your top, and he practically sobs, nodding as best as he can with you gripping his neck.
“I do, like it s’much, it’s so good, you’re so good, nngh–!” He’s clenching around the muzzle sporadically, trying to pull away from your grasp and the never-ending pistoning of the revolver in his ass. “Y’gonna make me cum, I’m gonna- gonna cum, fuck, please, I can’t- can’t hold it in–!” Kurt mewls as you ruthlessly thrust the gun past his rim over and over again, slamming into his prostate. Your cunt pulses with heat as you keep grinding on him, your panties completely ruined with how aroused you are at making Kurt fall apart.
“You’re such a pathetic fucking loser–” You have so much more to say, but he’s cumming untouched, choked whines punching out from his chest as he trembles in your grasp. Viscous fluid shoots out underneath him, matting his chest hair and sticking to the sheets. He’s gasping for air as you let go of his neck, whimpering pathetically as you slowly begin to pull the revolver out of him. “Stop fucking whining,” you snap, smacking his ass and prompting a sharp yelp of pain.
He’s still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm when you pull the gun out, shiny and slick. You place it to his head, sitting primly next to him while he’s looking absolutely wrecked. “You’re so pretty when you’re desperate,” you murmur quietly, tapping the muzzle against his browbone as your finger tightens around the trigger. “Like a fuckin’ mutt.” You slowly drag the muzzle lower and lower, pressing it against the seam of his lips.
“Open,” you order, and he obeys easily, plush lips wrapping around the muzzle and taking it into his mouth. His eyes gaze back up at you longingly as he sucks around the barrel, lashes fluttering and eyes damp as he struggles to take the whole length down his throat. “I could just kill you right fucking now,” you mumble, and his eyes seem to widen, either with fear or exhilaration.
“You couldn’t. You wouldn’t,” he objects, words muffled past the metal of the revolver. His teeth clack against it, eyes glinting. His orgasm seemed to follow with a newfound wave of confidence, and he bites down against the muzzle. “You don’t know how to shoot a gun.”
You glare down at him, pushing the weapon further past his lips and down his throat. “It’s easy, isn’t it?” you say tauntingly, drumming your fingers against the trigger guard. “Just press down, and bam.” The last word is hushed, hissed through your teeth. His hands travel up to squeeze your waist, pushing up your top to trace over your body. It’s surprisingly loving and gentle considering the situation the two of you are in.
Kurt’s calloused hands reach up to squeeze your breasts, tracing over your nipples teasingly as he moans around the gun. One hand pulls away from your soft body to lay across your hand that’s holding the gun, interlocking fingers gently. You pull the gun away from his lips, escaping his mouth with a quiet ‘pop!’.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” His grip grows tighter around your hand, and in a fluid movement, he’s got you pinned facedown on the bed, one knee planted firmly on your back. Your heart rate is quickening as you struggle fruitlessly beneath him, one hand lifting you up by your neck to make eye contact with him. Kurt leans in close, a giddy grin on his face as he places the gun underneath your chin. A clicking mechanism can be heard in the tense silence.
“You had the safety on.”
Chills manifest their way down your spine at his words, the tap of the gun against your neck becoming all the more ominous. His cock is hardening again, pressing firm against your ass and lower back as he ruts against you. Your breathing grows shallow, unable to force words out. It’s like there’s a vice around your neck, ceasing your breathing. Tap. Tap. Tap.
“You’re scared,” he says coolly, rubbing his length against your slick-soaked panties, making you moan quietly at the friction. “There’s no need, baby.” Kurt’s hands knead into your ass, spreading your cheeks and spitting at your pulsing hole. “You know I’d never hurt you.”
He pauses, smiling down at the sight of you, trapped underneath him. The gun presses deeper into your neck, and you whimper as he tenses his fingers around the trigger. “But I will. Because I know you want me to.”
You scream as he suddenly pushes into you, the slick of your pussy making it easy for his cock to breach in, immediately thrusting into you and keeping you pinned down. His weight is fully spread onto your body as he plunges in and out of your syrupy cunt, the revolver pressed firmly under your chin.
“Stupid fucking bitch,” he snickers, tapping the muzzle against your parted lips as you moan. “You really thought you could take me? You just gave me a good fucking orgasm is all,” Kurt moans, reaching one hand down to rub at your clit. “Fuckin’ tight as hell. I didn’t expect that, considering you whore yourself out, huh? Thought you’d be all loose ‘n sloppy, but this–” he punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, groaning at the sensation of your gummy walls squeezing around his dick. “–fuck, this pussy’s fucking s-so tight ‘round me, baby, s’like you were built for me.”
You whimper– at his words, at the fear of having the gun so close to you, at how his cock drags deliciously in your cunt, and how his fingers expertly work your clit. “K-Kurt– please–”
He shushes you, knocking the muzzle of the gun against your head gently. “Sh sh shh, you don’t needa say a word, baby. Just let me– nngh, fuckin’ use this pussy,” Kurt grunts, one hand grabbing the flesh of your ass to propel into you faster. The bedframe knocks into the wall with every thrust, paint chipping off in flakes. “Y’feel like a big girl now, hm? Got to play with my gun and fuck me, now you think you’re on top of the world?” he crows out, laughing in a frenzied fashion. The air is sticky with the smell of sex and sweat, permeating the entire room. It’s obscene, but what’s more obscene are the moans that Kurt manages to push from your throat with each harsh pound he delivers.
“You looked so sexy holding my gun,” Kurt whispers in your ear as he fucks you, moaning as you tighten around his length. “So, so fuckin’ beautiful. My girl holdin’ my gun,” he groans, and you hate how your stomach tightens when he calls you his.
“I’m not- your fuckin’–haaaah– f-fuck, mmmmh!” Your jaw slackens as he keeps hitting your g-spot with the spongy head of his cock, hard and relentless as he pinches your clit.
“No?” he feigns innocence, and you can see his fingers tightening around the trigger ever so slightly, causing a shudder of fear to wrack your body. “Well, you’re going to be,” he laughs confidently, smacking your ass and jackhammering into you.
You aren’t sure when the tears began flowing– maybe when the gun was pressed against you, or perhaps they just started, but Kurt wipes them away from your cheek with his thumb, gentle and loving. He kisses your neck, biting at your earlobe and giggling. He’s acting like he’s found a new toy to play with, not threatening someone’s life while fucking them to the end of the earth.
“Awww, baby.” The gentle condescension of his voice paired with the brutal thrusts is enough to make the tears fall faster, and he kisses your cheek gently, moaning into your ear. “You’re so pretty when you cry for me,” he whispers, grinning at the weak keen it draws from you.
You jerk your head back as he flicks your clit, mewling. “Gonna– Kurt, Kurt, ‘m gonna cum, fuck–”
The muzzle of the revolver digs into your chin again, and a broken sob escapes your chest. “Ask for permission,” he hisses, and you nearly break down right then and there, the pressure of the gun against your heated skin and the sensation of his cock pounding you braindead being all too much.
“Please,” you plead, your voice cracking. “Please lemme cum, hhnnnh, I wa-wanna cum on y’r cock, Kurt, lemme cum, please–!”
He groans at that, tossing the gun aside to grip your ass with both hands, pounding into you. “Yeah, bitch. Fuckin’ cum on my dick like the slut you are,” he growls, the roughness of his voice intertwining with the loud squeals and moans that are pulled out of you. Your walls clench around him as your orgasm crashes upon you, screaming so loud you swear your vocal cords burst. He keeps fucking into you, using you to ride out his orgasm as his load shoots inside you. The warmth seeps into your insides, leaving your mind foggy and slow as he pulls out, using the muzzle to push some of his leaking cum back into your fluttering pussy.
Kurt stands up to survey your limp body, nodding in approval at the cockdrunk look in your eyes. “Job well done, don’t you think?” he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your neck gently, brushing your hair back.
Your mouth is still agape, and he leaves a sloppy kiss on your parted lips. “...You should go,” you manage to say as you catch your breath, thighs still twitching.
He smiles good-naturedly and gives your ass a little pat, scurrying around the room to pick up his strewn-about clothing, wiggling his fingers in a little wave when he’s ready to depart.
“Oh, and just so you know?” You look over at him, leaning against the doorframe with the gun still in his hand, tapping it against the wall gently. He winks at you, running a hand through his hair before he opens the door.
“It was unloaded the whole time.” With his final words, you’re left to stare at his retreating figure. The sound of your apartment door closing echoes through your brain as you lay back down on your back, shuddering.
Once you feel ready enough, you stand up on shaky legs with your stained sheets wrapped around you. Kneeling, you gather the hidden camera you had set up and stumble over to your computer, inserting the USB drive and waiting for the video to load onscreen. You’re still sticky between your thighs, and if you looked down, you were sure you’d see some of Kurt’s cum, trailing down your thighs and dripping onto the floor.
The video loads, and you’re quickly downloading it to your files, navigating to OnlyFans and uploading it to your page.
“Had some fun with props xx”
Your hands tremble as you tag his username, KurtsWorld69, and hit post.
