#cod kreuger

[codnasties]

kreuger under your skirt 👤 (🌽 link)

as part of his job, kreuger is so used to spending days with his kit on, no matter if it's boiling hot, rainy, or if he's covered in filth. it just stays on. it's like part of him, somewhat of a second skin that he only wears when he's at work.

with that, he's so used to having something covering the top part of his body that having his head under some fabric for a bit more isn't much of a bother. especially if said fabric is your skirt and he's under it for the sole purpose of eating your cunt out

the soft material of your skirt draped over his head, his hands wrapped around your upper thighs to keep you close and make sure that you don't run away from his hungry mouth. his tongue teasingly running along your pussy lips, making you moan at both the contact of the warm wet muscle his tongue is and the lack of proper touch against your pulsing middle.

saliva already pooling at your middle and mixing with your arousal by the time he starts exploring your cunt. his cheeky tongue slightly pushing itself into your quivering hole, getting himself a taste. the ministrations continuing as he starts giving open mouthed kisses to your pussy. tongue straying every here and there and swiping ofer your needy clit. sometimes even latching onto it as giving it a light sucking.

he isn't getting out from under your skirt until his face is drenched with your juices

[coolchickgigi]

Kortac's New Bratty Omega

I am so happy to hear so many of you enjoyed the last post. Many of you were more interested in the Kortac pack. ahem König, so I want to write both the Omega O and Omega A besties stories as a spereate series. That way you can experience each one individually, before I reunite them together.

So enjoy this whole post about little troublemaker, Omega O~

MDNI: Suggestive nsfw, no smut (but it gets heated in the end)

It seemed you were the smallest Omega when next to the Kortac pack. Many of the bar patrons worried you were probably scared out of your mind, but you were the opposite, you were drunkenly happy to be next to the handsome men. Well from what you can scent since their faces were covered by masks. Finding the mystery intriguing. 

Throughout the night you challenged each of them to staring contests. Krueger not wanting to lose as he didn't want to blink the sight of you away. Horangi, who was very competitive, would blow into your eyes for fun when he was close to losing. König got his rebound round and was able to win without a tear in his eye, his gaze felt piercing. Like he was reading into every detail of your body, the way his pupils dilated when he saw your tears form. It was very intense. 

After getting a few more rounds, the night was full of fun and laughter, as your presence seemed to have a thrilling effect on them. 

They never met an omega like you. They are always used to seeing them as submissive, especially an Omega O who are known to be the most submissive out of all second gender ranks. Yet you seemed to have gained a sense of independence and freedom in your life, possibly by the encouragement of your Omega A bestieee.  You held your head up as you spoke, gave them flirtatious eyes, and played a game you didn't think they were aware of.

You and your bestie made a deal. Right before you both left to travel for nursing school, you challenged one another that whoever can get the most drinks out of people wins the title of being ‘the best omega’ This whole interaction with the pack you challenged, was all so you could just win more points to beat your friend.

Yet funnily enough, the pack didn't quite care how many drinks you were getting out of them. They used it as a fun game for themselves too. Instead of buying you that margarita you asked for, they quietly asked the bartender to make yours alcohol-free.

After losing another round to Horangi you declared an arm wrestling contest just to keep the fun going. Saying the loser has to take a shot. They each looked at each other. Silently thinking if they should just let you win, since by now you'll probably know your shots don't have any liquor.

It was Horangi who spoke up first, facing his body to you with his arms crossing on the table, flexing his muscles. Couldn't help notice the slight veins pop out. “You sure you want to have a go with us? We might break you.” Krueger leaned one arm on the table, fist clenching, as he flexes his own arm too. 

Horangi thinking how much he should hold back as he clamps your delicate hand in his. Yet the moment he engulfed your hand in his, something flipped in him. His nostrils flared, his pupils dilated. He gave your hand a slight painful squeeze, making you jump at the sudden show of strength. A small whine slipped before you could hold it back. Quickly causing König to let a low growl to Horangi. Making the eager man loosen his hold on you. You looked at König seeing how his eyes were locked on both your hands. You could smell the way his scent became sour. Was he jealous?

Before you think further on it, you heard Hornagi clear his throat as he was waiting to get this over with. He didn't want to make the Alpha A even more angry then he was, because he was also fighting his own instinct. Desperately wanting to pull your wrist to his nose to smell that mouth watering sweet omega scent. Oh but it worth it, as he got to be the first to touch you. 

Not even a second once the round started, Horangi let his arm go limp when you used all your strength, expecting more resistance. “Hey! You didn't even try to win!” you whined out, really wanting to win that free shot. 

Horangi sighed with a grin as he leaned back, letting his arm rest out on the back of his chair “Sorry babe, you just seemed to have caught me off guard.”

You groaned back not believing him. But a slight pink hue covers your cheeks at the nickname. Before you could even go to challenge the packs Alpha B, Krueger was already ready and waiting for you. He put his arm out to you as he flexed his arm to show off his own muscles. Your eyes shooting to the way his arm was so much thicker. Your face flushing a bit more as you couldn't help but think how nice and tight it'll be around you– you shook your head. Trying to forget as you felt his hand grab yours. He couldn't help but grin at the feel of your hand, how it was engulfed in his own. Giving you a light squeeze to prepare you for what's to come. Your brain felt like it was buzzing again, mind translating everything he did as an inappropriate image.  

Once Krueger gave the signal to start, you put all your strength and weight into pushing the Alpha A’s hand down. You knew you couldn't win, but it was worth the try since you wanted to see if you had any real chance of winning. After a while of letting you struggle, Krueger yawned, using a little bit of strength to push your hand down, inches from touching the table. “Good try ‘mega," he spoke lowly "maybe next time you should use some better tricks”. Without another word, he squeezed your hand and forced it back so he made it look like you won. 

Despite winning 'losing' again, what he said gave you a devilishly crazy idea. “I'll hold you up to that” You say with a glint of mischief in your eyes. Making him think he should have said it sooner, as you were now challenging König. 

The tall Alpha A now facing you as he leaned on the table towards you, his large arm out and ready. You gladly took his hand in yours, gliding your fingers against his sensitive palm before clamping on it. The shiver he felt only made him want to devour such a cheeky omega.

His voice gruff from underlining arousal.

“You enjoying this, aren't you little mouse” 

You couldn't help to snicker in his face as you leaned closer, letting your chest rest on the table suggestively in his view. “I'm ready whenever you are~” you said. With a low growl of confirmation from him, the round was started by Horangi.

This round you put less effort into it, as you kept your eyes locked on his. Trying your best to use your sweet omega scent to pull at his heart strings. Squeezing his hand softly you tell him with a soft chuckle, “You know what I was thinking?...you ain't no alpha if you cant even beat me~”

The strength of his arm suddenly came crashing down. His arm now pinning the back of your hand against the table, not too hard but enough to keep in place and from running away.  Declaring him the winner.

As you were about to celebrate your victory of getting shot, your moment was short lived. As the sudden rise of a powerful dark cedarwood scent made you freeze. You hear the strong deep growl of an alpha coming from his chest, your eyes shooting up to meet his now intimidating bright blue eyes no black as his pupils dilate dangerously staring down at you. A common look that only an Alpha A can give, commanding submission.

To Konig, that little comment was the tip of the iceberg. As it is one of the many times you kept disregarding his rank, keeping track of each one in his head. He doesn't try to be a controlling alpha. But being a colonel and a pack leader, makes it harder for him to ignore insubordination. What you didn't know was that he claimed you the moment you challenged him. It was the first time he's ever met someone as small as you, challenging someone like him. He was used to having everyone fear him or even submit the moment they made eye contact. But you? Oh you were different. You needed his help didn't you? Someone to teach you manners again. Oh don't worry kleine, if he can make his raging hormonal pack submit, he can do the same for you. 

You heard stories of how strong, deadly and frightening an alpha can be. Especially when that alpha before you has the ‘A’ defining their rank.

You feel as though your body instantly sobered up. Your head quickly held low, Looking down to avoid his sharp gaze. Still feeling his glare on your submissive position. You think about your next words very carefully to calm his instincts. Hoping whatever you say next can make him believe that you know your place.

But before any apology could be spoken, you felt the urge to bite back your tongue. Suddenly your brain decided at that moment you should remember your bff. The way she would tell you that it's up to you to fight back your own rank. Going against high ranks that try to make you submit. Because it's up to you to control your instinct. Almost like she was right there chanting to you with that Omega A tone she carried.  

So maybe the next thing you did say should be blamed on her, or the imaginary liquor still running in your veins. 

Still, your eyes slowly looked back up, fighting every instinct to look back down as you did. Forcing yourself to glare back into Konigs eyes. Slowly straighten your back, maintaining direct eye contact as a grin forms on your trembling lips. Voice slow and calculating, “What are you so mad about? You want to go another round of staring into my pretty eyes? Could've just asked nicely you know~” You say as you let your sweet omega scent waft around him and flutter your lashes at him, playing with the fire behind his eyes. 

Horangi couldn't believe what he was looking at. And Krueger was fighting back a chuckle as his eyes landed on Konig, who looked like he was about to snap. He couldn't believe what an unruly omega you were being, especially in front of his pack. Konig couldnt help but feel the need to fuck fix that submission back into you. 

But he couldn't deny that he enjoyed having someone like you fight back. It makes the idea of breaking you in even more fun. 

So he let his nerves calm as he rested his forearms on the table and lowered his head to your level. Never breaking eye contact with you.

“You like playing with fire, mein klein Göre? (my little brat)” he rumbled out of his chest. “Maybe I need to remind you why not to challenge an alpha”

You softly chuckled “oh are you worried i'll hurt your wittle alpha pride?” You were seriously either drunk or stupid at this point. 

But Konig could only smirk under his mask, wishing you could see the large canines that peaked between his lips. So you'd know what you were really asking for. Wishing he could clamp down on that pretty neck of yours in front of everyone. Claiming you as his omega and reminding you of your place as ‘his packs’ omega. He imagines having you become so submissive under him. Wsihing to show everyone in this bar how he can make you scream for your alphas forgiveness as he pounds you down the bar table.

Konig could no longer daydream, he needed you. NOW. His eyes locked on yours as he slowly spoke, “This is more than a game you're playing Göre(brat). This is a challenge. Cause if I win, you need to give me whatever I want.” His words growled out.  His eyes never blinked as they stayed deadly focused on your eyes. His way of silently starting the staring contents.

You felt that shiver go down your spine again. The way he growled ‘need’ was a demand you knew only an alpha would say. Your eye twitches as you try to keep them from closing. Now your voice is losing its confidence “A-alright, well then you'll have to give me what I want then if I win?”

He chuckled, his eyes never moving. “And what is it that you want?”

You wanted to make it something childish, but decided to see if you had one more drop of liquor confidence in you. “The next time we see each other.’ you smiled softly, “I want a free round of drinks~” 

This time it was Krueger who spoke up, suddenly leaning close to your ear as he whispered lowly but loud enough for his pack to hear. “Oh don't worry maus, no matter if you win or lose, we’ll make sure your happy and filled with whatever we give you”

The heat under your skin started to rise up. You tried to fight back the tears in your eyes as you fought the urge to blink. But your mind finally began to believe this was more than a staring contest. This was a courtship.

They were always courting you. All night, by buying you drinks (water), showing you how tolerant they can be of your attitude, and even showing you the strength they have to protect you. But at this moment, you finally  realized you literally threw yourselves to the wolves. 

Horangi couldn't help but add in, “C'mon König, you letting the poor thing hurt her eyes.”

König responded, “She could blink anytime. Unless our little omega likes to feel the pain.” Kruger perked up, now adding in, “Oh so you're a masochist? My what a naughty girl.” Your eyes began to look red as you really fought to win. Yet König was nowhere near ready to blink. If anything he quite enjoyed watching you get teary eyed, all flustered and wiggly in your seat. He just kept thinking about the way your face scrunch will be looking like that later again. But soooo much more pleasure and pain behind them little maus.

You couldn't take it anymore. You-

König's voice cuts through your thoughts. "Let us claim you” his voice is rough with need now. Then you feel Kruger lean closer to you as his huge thigh pushed against your smaller ones. Krueger's Alpha B rank makes him as much of a danger as König. With their Beta A not far behind, as Hornagi lets his larger forearm rub against yours, letting you feel the small bit of warmth their touch can offer.

 “Oh mein kleine Gor~ wir zeigen dir, wie du dich deinen Alphas unterwirfst.” (Oh my little brat~ we’ll show you what it is to submit to your alphas.) König spoke to you in his thick Austrian accent. You felt yourself get slight chills down your spine. Each word evoked a strong emotion. Even though you didn't understand you somehow knew the intentions. An underlying strength in his tone. 

Just the need in his voice alone, causes you to finally let yourself blink. 

AHHHHH OMG IT WAS GETTING SO GOOD. I'm sorry for cutting it But I promise part 2 will be all spice~ 

For now, I can no longer fight back my sleep paralysis demons. I promise I will give you my best when I am fully rested. 

Until then, please don't be afraid to share requests. 

See you soon my lovely little ladies and little gents~ 

[kicks-sleep-paralysis-demon]

Krueger but hes just a weird guy. Idk man, he's just so peculiar to me I love him.

He's so silent all of the time, he waits and watches and remembers so many little things.

Your keys always end up in your coat pocket even though you're fairly certain you didn't put them there.

Everytime a special occasion comes up a small bouquet of your favorite flowers are left where you'll find them.

Little snacks that you enjoy get left on the table or in pockets.

On your birthday he always gives you something meaningful. It's usually small but it's something you mentioned months ago, or themed around something you adore.

Every holiday is the same way, something small that he knows will mean a lot to you.

He might not be vocal with his affection, but he shows it indirectly and in meaningful and heartfelt ways that show he listens.

He also has a list of your favorite songs in his notes right next to a list of your favorite movies, shows and books. (he has so many lists revolving around you that he has to organize them)

[unnamed-blob]

Stranger Danger

⇢ Pairing: Male CoD/Reader

⇢ Length: Oneshot

⇢ Synopsis: Life keeps kicking you even while you're long down and curled into a ball. You'd needed just one moment to yourself. One night at a bar where your worries couldn't reach you past the haze fogging your mind.

⇢ A/N: A "choose your own stalker masked cod man" fic. Pick your poison yourselves, I couldn't make up my mind

Your kidnapper is… kind. Surprisingly so. 

He certainly has the looks for it; towering over you with broad shoulders and a thick frame. Arms wider than your head, a permanent mask affixed to his face until the only thing you can make out are his eyes (always watching).

But he doesn’t push for anything. No fake niceties to get your guard down and then pounce. (Not unless he’s playing the long game for months- you doubt anyone could have the level of patience for that- not while you’re already under his thumb). Doesn’t encroach on your space or push too hard. 

Not like your job had. Not how life had, before your world became one small living space. Pressing and pushing and prodding, staring at you under a spyglass then tearing another wing off just to watch you flounder helplessly. 

You’d had the memo drilled into your head from a young age. “Stranger danger”, she’d said, your mother, kneeled to your level as she warned you not to trust strangers with candy or unknown men calling themselves friends. Had lessons in school, the “I survived” stories, the speakers behind a podium.

“Never let them take you to a secondary location.” The police officer called in to teach your class had stated, leaned backwards on his hands against the teacher’s desk, heavy gaze lingering on each small student to ensure the words sink in. “Possibility of rescue drops significantly.”

Nothing much you could do when you were unconscious, when you put yourself in that situation. 

You can’t even recall what day of the week it’d been. Maybe Tuesday, maybe Thursday, the bar had been far too empty for a Friday, and your stifling uniform noted it wasn’t the weekend. The days had melted together, an unending stream of weekdays that overlapped in neverending tasks and sleep that eluded no matter how you tossed and turned. The weekends were no better, mindlessly flowing into one day, hardly a few hours after you’d blink the sleep out of your heavy eyes before your alarm was blaring again and the paperwork awaiting. 

Groceries were more expensive by the day, your car shrieked at you with newfound issues each time you received your paycheck, and the hallways of your workplace whispered of cut wages and let go personnel. 

When your hours began to deplete and your landlord sent a notice of a rent increase, you found yourself at a bar. No recollection of the walk there nor the decision made, simply a blink and the worn wood of the counter was before your seat. 

It was nothing noteworthy. You’d come before with your girlfriends, with dates, even coworkers after a successful quarter. The drinks loosening lips and ties until you could insult your narcissistic boss with a snicker, leaning against the other’s shoulder to hold yourself up as they giggled with more humor than the joke entailed. The place wasn’t one to boast, certainly not the prettiest place you could be. But it was close and convenient, and the drinks sung for themselves.

You’d needed just one moment to yourself. A second where you could inhale without a grating screech ringing out behind you about “wasting company time”. Without planning your finances and how many meals you could cut back on and how much longer you could drive before your car broke down on the side of the road.

You’d grabbed anything in front of you. The drinks a steady stream, the fire burning down your throat as your head lightened. 

Maybe you’d taken something bad. Maybe somebody had slipped something in. Or maybe it’d just been the liquor, not at all bothering to count your glasses. 

You only halted once the counter swayed with each blink. Pushed yourself off the stool only to stumble and nearly fall as the ground seemed to shift under your feet. Struggled out the door as the floorboards tried to trip you up and the sidewalk would lurch out from under you.

No one had bothered to notice, to care more than a passing glance. Not their person, not their problem. Enough of their own dealings going on, they’d defended to themselves, pointedly turning their gazes away.

(He had. He had seen everything, had watched you crumble and fall apart from his darkened corner. Had watched you stumble and trip your way to the exit as he rose silently, gliding behind you like a second shadow.) 

You can’t recall how it happened. Only the dredges of the cool, chilly air sobering you just the slightest, before you were waking with your hangover jackhammered in your skull, pulsing with your heartbeat. Had pressed the pads of your palms to your eyes and willed yourself that the pain was a good thing, meant you were still up and kicking. 

When you could finally breathe without your stomach roiling in protest, you’d pulled your hands away from your face, blinking at the intrusion of light. 

And promptly realized you weren’t at home.

The memories came back sluggishly as you pushed your aching body up on trembling arms, surveying the space. It wasn’t a dungeon, as you had imagined as a child, nor a wet, dingy warehouse, as you’d expected.

It was a guest bedroom. Comfortably furnished, but devoid of any personal touches. You’d settled yourself into a sitting position, legs thrown over the side of the bed. Something tight in your chest unfurling from relief when you glanced down to find yourself still in the same clothes from yesterday. Wrinkled, in need of a good wash (yourself included), but intact.

It had given you hope, as you pushed off, then faltered as your brain pulsed in protest. More logical, coherent ideas forming in your aching head as you grasped it with one hand and padded across the carpeted floor to a wooden door with light spilling out from underneath it. Maybe a coworker who had found you, maybe a friend of a friend, maybe a good samaritan even.

Your opposing hand extended for the door handle, fingertips brushing the cold metal. Before the light disappeared from under the door. It turned on its own before you could react, slowly swinging inwards. 

And every hope shattered to the ground as your heart dropped to your stomach.

You stumbled back as a figure filled the entryway, tripping over your own feet as you gaped up at him. From this angle he only appeared even taller. Large, imposing, blocking the light attempting to scurry in. You couldn’t make out his face from the mask, only a pair of eyes as he stared down at you.

Then he blinked and the moment was broken. He cautiously stepped by you, stopping by the bedside table to set down the tray in his hands. Then turned to look back at you expectantly. 

You glanced at the open door for a moment, considered it, then came back to reality as your head pulsed in reminder. You were already weakened, certainly in no marathon running state (punctuated by your sway and how you nearly toppled over as you slowly rose, vision threatening to go out like a light). Much less against him, his strides double yours, his hands large enough to wrap around your arm with ease (or your throat, you considered morbidly), plopping yourself back into your previous position with a grunt. 

He’d nodded in approval, the motion hardly noticeable, before extending a closed fist to you and a cup of water. It took you an embarrassingly long time of staring in confusion before the intentions clicked, extending an open palm under his.

Two small, circular, red pills dropped into your waiting hand. You squinted, stared at them silently, before their familiarity finally sparked. Ibuprofen. Just Ibuprofen, just painkillers. 

“Don’t take candy from strangers.” a chiding tone in your head remarked. “Be careful about weapons in your Halloween treats. And don’t accept unknown substances- they could be drugs.” (Would take a Herculean amount of effort to conceal drugs in such a small pill, you considered, peering closer. Especially when you were in a weakened state already, hardly a threat against his muscles and tall form.) 

He held out the glass of water next, silently watching you reach for it, then down both. He nodded again as you finished, gathered the cup from your loose hand, then turned and- in several strides so much longer than yours- left. The lock clicking into place to signal the finality of the encounter. 

You surveyed the door for a moment, watched his shadow disappear from the gap underneath. Then turned to the tray expectantly, as if it’d answer anything. 

A slow blink. No slop in a metal tin, no measly granola bar to sustain yourself. An innocent sandwich nestled on a paper plate and a steaming bowl of soup stared back at you. 

A/N: After sitting over this and debating heavily, even asking for outside opinions, I finally decided to post this work.

I wasn't in the best of mental states as I wrote this, and it reflects in the Reader. I struggled to finish it with a writer's block, stressing myself so much over my word count that I made writing a chore and not a passion.

I'm in a much better state right now, and this was honestly somewhat cathartic to get out. I originally planned for it to have 2 more chapters, but I need to put myself in back into a bad headspace to do so and I don't have the energy for that. For the time being, this'll remain completed at one chapter. With hope I'll be able to come back to it someday.

[thejohnlockedfemboy]

COD HEADCANONS + SOME CANON PICK ONE

selectively mute roach

hard of hearing soap ( bc he’s a demolitions expert so explosions )

chronic joint paint ghost ( due to torture )

ocd perfectionist gaz

agoraphobic + social anxiety konig

phantom pain alex

dissociative identity disorder/plural nikto

autistic kreuger

anger issues graves

Voting ended onMay 9, 2025

[sebastiankruegershusband]

I saw a horrible AI-generated image so I decided to redraw it with my husband and me, looks like a BL comic cover, full of Slice-of-life yaoi and a little silly affectionate competition among us in our day-to-day lives as masc!man and fem!man 🩷💚

[dorgarey]

no words, just 🍊 

[keegansdarling]

His apartment was the most underdecorated place inhabited by a human. It smelled clean, it had stale air and the metallic tang of Gunfire oil, a scent that followed Sebastian Krueger like a second skin. He sat on the edge of his bed the dim light of a single overhead bulb casting harsh shadows across the jagged topography of his scarred face. His skin felt too tight, his pulse a frantic drumming against his ribs that had nothing to do with the past mission and everything to do with the agonizing tension coiled in his gut. He was a man built for violence, yet tonight, the violence he’d dealt out wasn't enough to quiet the itch under his skin.

When the knock came, it was sharp, unafraid. He opened the door to find you standing there, looking entirely too polished for a hole-in-the-wall town he chose to live in. You didn't flinch at the sight of the giant in the tactical gear or the sniper rifle leaning against the wall. You just looked him up and down with an expression that was terrifyingly clinical.

"You’re late," Krueger growled, his Austrian accent thick, a low vibration in his chest.

"I’m exactly when I mean to be," you replied, stepping past him into the cramped room. You tossed your coat onto a crate, revealing leather that fit like a grudge. "And you’re vibrating. Sit down, Sebastian. You look like you’re about to snap."

He didn't like the way you said his name, or how easily you occupied his space. He sat back on the bed, arms resting on his knees, watching you move. "I didn't pay for a conversation. I paid for..." He trailed off as you approached, your fingers trailing over the scars on his forearms.

"You don't even know what you paid for yet," you whispered. You reached up, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling his head back. He let out a sharp, jagged breath, his eyes widening. You saw it then, the flicker of something desperate behind the cold blue of his irises. Most people saw a monster; you saw a man starving for a different kind of ruin.

"You’ve spent the whole week breaking things, haven't you?" You leaned in, your breath hot against his ear. "And yet, you’re still so heavy. Why is that, Krueger? Is it because no one’s been brave enough to break you?"

His hand flew up, catching your wrist in a grip that would have crushed a weaker person. "Watch your tongue," he hissed, but his thumb was stroking your skin, a betrayal of his own command.

"Or what?" You didn't pull away. Instead, you used your free hand to deliver a stinging slap across his cheek. The sound cracked through the room like a pistol shot.

Krueger froze. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Slowly, he turned his face back to you. There was no rage in his eyes, only a terrifying, shimmering clarity. His grip on your wrist loosened, and his head bowed slightly. A low, shuddering moan escaped him, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief.

"Again," he rasped. It wasn't an order; it was a plea.

"Good boy," you purred, the words a jagged edge. You pushed him back onto the bed, pinning his shoulders down with your knees. You could feel the sheer power in his frame, the muscle that could snap you in two, yet he lay there, trembling under your weight. The leather belt was still warm from the friction of the previous strikes, coiled like a whip in your hand. You shifted your weight again, the movement deliberate and heavy, grinding your heat directly over his mouth to stifle the jagged gasps he was throwing into the small of your back. Krueger was a mountain of trembling muscle beneath you, his hands clawing at the thin mattress, his knuckles white and bloodless.

"You're so desperate for it, aren't you?" you hissed, your voice a low, cruel velvet. "To be treated like something that doesn't matter."

You reached back, your fingers cold and unyielding as they found him. His cock was stone-hard, pulsing with a frantic rhythm that mirrored his shallow breathing. You didn't offer him a gentle touch. Instead, you gripped him firmly, pulling his girthy length out so he was exposed and vulnerable against the harsh light of his dingy apartment.

Krueger’s head thrashed against the bed, a low, guttural whine vibrating through your thighs as you used the tip of the leather belt to flick against the sensitive, reddened head of his cock. The contact was sharp, a stinging, precise bite of pain that made his entire frame seize.

"Again," he choked out, the word barely a whisper, broken by a sob of pure, masochistic relief.

You didn't wait for him to settle. You brought your open palm down in a sudden, bracing slap directly against the crown of him. The sound was sharp in the cramped room. Krueger let out a strangled cry, his back arching so violently that his chest pressed hard into your spine. You could feel the frantic heat of his skin, the way his heart was trying to hammer its way out of his ribs.

"You don't get to come, Sebastian," you whispered, reaching back to squeeze him until he groaned, your thumb pressing hard into the center of the head, mimicking the blunt trauma he so clearly craved. "Not until I've broken every bit of that pride you're so fond of."

"You’ve been playing the butcher for so long, you forgot how good it feels to be the meat."

You reached for the heavy leather belt at his waist, unbuckling it with slow, deliberate clicks. Krueger’s breathing was shallow now, his chest heaving. As you struck him, the leather meeting the skin of his thighs with a dull thud, he arched off the bed, his teeth bared in a grimace that was half-agony, half-ecstasy. He wasn't just taking it; he was devouring it.

You struck him again, a rhythmic, stinging cadence of belt-flicks to his thighs that left him sobbing for breath, his vision blurring as he finally found the ruin he had been searching for in the dark. He wasn't a sniper anymore; he was just a man drowning in the beautiful, violent clarity of your hands.

"Is this what you wanted?" you asked, leaning down to bite at the column of his throat, tasting salt and heat. "To feel something other than the recoil of a rifle?"

"I... I can't..." he choked out, his hands clawing at the sheets, his knuckles white. "I need... more."

"You’ll get exactly what I give you," you countered, your voice dropping to a predatory silk. You didn't give him the release he was straining for. Instead, you pushed him further, finding the precise rhythm of pain that made his vision blur. You used your hands and your teeth against him until he was sobbing for breath, his pride stripped away layer by agonizing layer.

The friction of the tactical fabric and the stinging heat of the belt had driven him to a point beyond military discipline. Krueger was a raw nerve, his breath hitching in ragged. You could feel the frantic pulse of his erection, engorged and twitching, begging for the very destruction you were dealing out.

"You’re vibrating, Sebastian," you taunted, your voice a low, cruel purr as you shifted.

You didn't give him the mercy of a slow descent. Instead, you reached back, guiding him into yourself with a blunt, forceful shove as you dropped your hips. The sensation of him sliding home was a jolt of pure electricity; he let out a choked, guttural roar that was muffled against your skin. You didn't move with rhythm, you moved with malice. You slammed your weight down, the impact jarring his spine against the thin bed, grinding your heels into the mattress to gain leverage as you rode him in a frantic, punishing reverse cowgirl.

From his position, pinned and blind to your face, Krueger was drowning. All he had was the sight of your ass and the feeling of you ruthlessly taking what you wanted from his body. Every time you bottomed out, you delivered a sharp, stinging snap of the belt across his thighs.

"Please," he gasped, his Austrian accent fracturing into a desperate, high-pitched plea. "Now-bitte-now!"

"Not until you break," you hissed, your muscles clenching around him with a proprietary squeeze that made his vision go white.

You picked up the pace, your movements becoming a blur of violent friction. You weren't just fucking him; you were breaking him down to his base components. You felt the moment his resolve snapped, the exact second the soldier died and the masochist took over. His back arched so violently, and a high, keening sound tore from his throat as he finally detonated.

He came with a force that felt like a physical blow inside you, his entire frame seizing in a long, tectonic shudder. You didn't stop. You kept grinding, riding out the waves of his release, the belt in your hand still coming down in one final, stinging slap to his thighs just as he peaked.

Krueger collapsed back onto the bed, his limbs heavy and useless, his chest heaving as if he’d just run a marathon through a war zone. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of his sobbing breaths and the distant hum of the apartment's refrigerator. He was completely ruined, a heap of scarred muscle and spent adrenaline, finally, blissfully quiet.

He was a mess of sweat and red welts when you finally let him reach the edge. His hands fumbled for you, pulling you down into a kiss that tasted of desperation. When he finally broke, it wasn't the roar of a soldier; it was a broken, beautiful sound, the sound of a man finally coming home to himself in the middle of a wreck.

Long after the adrenaline faded, Krueger lay slumped against the bed, his heavy head resting on the pillow. The monster was quiet. He looked up at you, his gaze exhausted and startlingly vulnerable.

"You knew," he muttered, his voice a ghost of its usual self.

"I knew," you said, smoothing a stray hair from his forehead. "And I’ll be back tomorrow. You’re far too much fun to leave in one piece."

Krueger didn't argue. He simply closed his eyes, finally sinking into a sleep that didn't involve nightmares.