#krueger call of duty

[milomossy]

Just Nikto is trying to feed Krueger with weird russian food

- wtf is this?!

- cabbage rolls. open your mouth.

- no! i'd rather die

[konigsblog]

kidnappers krueger sending videos of konig’s favorite girl being used and treated so roughly??

tw: non-con, kidnapping, bondage. 🔞

while he's away on deployment? he'll cry, he can't bear to see his favourite dumb girl be treated in such a disgusting, brutal manner. :(

könig is so gentle with his captive, while krueger is nothing but cruel and violent, degrading and humiliating. he finds a sick and perverted form of enjoyment and pleasure in treating you as if you're some kind of sex doll, manipulating your body into different positions, slapping his weed tip against your cunt again for another round while recording for könig.

he uses bondage to restrain you, while könig usually uses his bare hands to pin your wrists now, whispering sweet praise and apologies to you. now, under the control of krueger, you're gagged and bound, wrists tied together and your nipples sore from being toyed with. your eyes are wet from sobbing, krueger telling you to smile while he fucks you brutally, a tear rolling down your cheek slowly. each thrust is harsh, the head of his lengthy dick smacking against your cervix, bruising it with his pace.

oh god, könig is heartbroken seeing his angel be treated so inhumane, as if you're not worthy of respect.

fuck, as soon as he's home, he'll coddle you and won't let krueger near you for days, perhaps weeks, telling you how apologetic he is for leaving you alone in the presence of krueger without his protection, holding your tightly and watching you squirm when he touches your achingly sore cunt, admiring how ruined you are.

[alkern]

[machveil]

Can't believe you're gonna make me simp for this man while I'm at work-

LET ME KISS HIS SCARS BETTER REPEATEDLY DAILY ON THE BED ON THE DESK ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER WHERE NO GOD CAN SEE OR JUDGE I WILL WORSHIP THE MAN WITH WAR WOUNDS THE WAY HE OUGHT TO BE -🐸

Kiss it Better

sometimes a kiss makes things feel better— or a few dozen! headcanons for smoochin’ their scars: Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, König, Sebastian Krueger

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Simon Riley has been on the receiving end of a lot, he’s used to it - mishaps during training, wounds during deployments, not to mention the occasional bumps and bruises from daily life. what he wasn’t used to receiving was the feeling of your lips on the rough, patchy parts of his skin

”What’chya doin’, love?”, voice warm as he watches you press kisses to his scarred chest. he’d told you about some of them, grazes and nicks, close calls with blades, “Nothing, Si.”. a content hum resonates in his chest, a hand resting on the back of your head as you continue - kissing from scar to scar

he was indifferent towards the scars - a part of his job, but when you littered kisses over them? the warmth that bloomed in his chest was welcomed. lounging in bed with you, the tv idly playing in the background as he combs his fingers through your hair, the domestic moment is pure bliss for Simon

pressing his own kiss to your hairline, he cracks a smile when you chuckle, nipping at his collarbone. “Careful, you’re supposed t’be kissin’ ‘em, lovie.”, he says, tugging your hair a little.

“Could leave a couple new marks for you.”, you mumble, smiling against his skin when he gently scratches your scalp

John “Soap” MacTavish:

for every kiss you place on his scars he’s doubling them and giving them back. Johnny is a sucker for when you kiss his scars - getting them can be horrifying depending on what happened, but when you’re pecking his arms? peppering kisses over his scarred muscles? he’s thinking about banging his knee into your coffee table ‘accidentally’ so you’ll kiss it better

“Wait, go back— missed a spot, mo ghaol.”, Johnny happily says, hand cupping your chin as he smiles at you, guiding you to press a kiss to his shoulder. the scar is barely visible - probably a nick from training or bumping into something, but he’s more than happy to feel your lips against the small mark, “Ya started this, gotta kiss ‘em all.”, he insists

he’s living for the attention, thumb pressed to your cheek as he gently guides you to each scar - some completely visible, others you have to squint at. and he’s gushing, cooing sweetly at you about how nice your lips feel against his skin, how you should do this more often

and he when you’re done? he’s pressing you down against the couch, a hand holding your wrists above your head as he kisses you silly - he’s laughing, dopey smile on his lips as he sloppily pecks you. “Hold still, mo chridhe! You’re squirmin’ too much—“, he chuckles, accent thick between quick kisses

“John! John— let go! It tickles!”, you complain, his stubble rubbing against your neck as he playfully bites at you

König:

it took a while for König to reveal his marred skin to you - scars, freckles, and moles all hidden beneath his uniform and civvies. despite his confidence and cocky nature as a Colonel, behind closed doors König worries. ever since his childhood people had pointed and mocked him, and back then he wasn’t charging into the field receiving wounds

but he trusts you, and when his sniper hood is awkwardly tugged off by large, calloused hands? his icy blue gaze meets yours, his face on display - a small scar over against his eyebrow, a cut across the corner of his lips, a scattering of roughed up skin against his cheek. he doesn’t explain what happened, how he got his scars and wounds, but you don’t pry. instead, when your first instinct is to press a kiss to his long since healed cheek?

he freezes, breath hitching - König was expecting you to be appalled, to leave his apartment with knit eyebrows and disappointment in your eyes. he wasn’t expecting such gentle, careful adoration. and when you move to kiss his crooked nose, the bridge slanted slightly, he feels his chest tighten with relief, heart hammering. “Oh, liebling—“, shaky hands moving to hover above your hips, he swallows, “You don’t have to.”, he murmurs

his stomach flips when you kiss the corner of his lips, right where the nick against them is. he lets his eyes flutter shut when you tell him you want to, the he’s handsome and ever so charming - words he never thought he’d hear

“So pretty—“, you mumble, moving to peck the small scar the splits his eyebrow, “You look perfect, König.”

Sebastian Krueger:

prideful bastard, he’s showing off each and every scar - telling you exactly what happened. it doesn’t matter that his body has a reminder that he was nicked by a blade, “Ja, the man that did this won’t lay a hand me again, meine Herz.”, it’s almost like he’s bragging about them

Krueger cracks jokes about some of his more serious wounds, waving off anything he considers boring. the small scrape on his hip? ignore that he accidentally hip checked the corner of a table, look at this one! it’s the size of your thumb, you want to know where he got it? no? oh, you don’t want to listen to his stories, kleiner Vogel? you’re hurting his feelings, you should kiss his scars to make it up to him

he just wanted to share some stories with you, isn’t it mean that you’re denying him? he’s holding your face, palm to your chin and his thumb slightly digging into your cheek, “Du willst mir nicht zuhören, kleiner Vogel? Fine, how about you give me some attention then, Klingt das gut?”. he grins when you press a kiss to the scar on his chest, humming at the feeling of your lips against his skin, “Schau dich an, isn’t this nice?”

in fact, Krueger likes it so much that he’ll seek you out just to feel you kiss his old wounds - settles you in his lap, crowds you against the kitchen counter. his eyes light up whenever you initiate, chest twisting with excitement as you peck his collarbone, where a nasty little wound had been years ago

softly smiling as you press kisses to the healed, rough bit of skin, you glance up at Krueger, “Tell me about this one?”

I love these silly little guys - I hope you enjoyed these fluffy, domestic interactions with these soldiers🎀✨

[pourinn]

D:

[etienne01]

THE SILLY BOYS

[luci4theminorannoyance]

Hihi! I’m in an angsty mood, so if it’s no bother would you mind writing falsely suspected traitor!reader (gn) with Gaz, ghost, soap, velikan, roach, Keegan and Krueger (I’m sorry, I don’t know your character limit, it’s completely up to you how many and which of them you want to write for!!) but they only find out reader is innocent after they already tortured reader?

Reader does forgive them but is very much traumatised, believing it’s something they did in order to bring suspicion to themselves, so reader starts to act differently. More meek and withdrawn, always keeping their head down and voice quiet, flinches and has low self esteem, …etc

Of course no pressure to write this at all!! And I’m sorry if any of the phrasing is weird, English is not my first language 😅

Hope you have a great day/evening!

a/n: I’m pretty sure I have a request just like this in my inbox and drafts somewhere lol (my drafts from old old requests are still gathering dust I’m so so so sorry to the people who requested btw)

Gaz:

-heart shattered with the most painful look on his face when he found out you didn’t lie to him. That you were innocent.. that when he was doing everything to pull info out of you and treating you like scum, that your answers of ‘I’m not lying!’ And pleas were all.. real

-went to you the second he could, shivering in self hatred especially when he saw the wounds he had caused on your body

-once you finally got back to good terms, he could see all the damage he did and it hurt him so much. He wanted YOU back, the loud, funny, unworried you… he didn’t know what to do

soap:

-held you so close for so long as soon as he figured out you didn’t lie to him. Or the team.

-tried everything and I mean EVERYTHING to try to get you back to how you were before it all

-every time you flinch or whisper, he can feel his guilt stabbing him though the heart, he can just imagine how you must feel.. and to think he could have helped.

-If he wasn’t so close to the rest of the team, he probably would have yelled at all of 141 for even assuming you were the traitor

ghost:

-feels so utterly guilty, like a wound was given to himself rather then you

-hates the fact he genuinely thought you would ever do that to him

-tried to distance himself from you now that you were back… he was just so guilty

-what if he hurt you again? What if you were still mad? What if you hated him now? He just couldn’t face it.

-when he found out you forgave him, an invisible weight was lifted off of him. But as he saw you be so quiet, he could feel his hands sake and his body almost collapse. He did this. He hurt his lover. He could never trust himself with you like he used to again.

-was oh so careful with you since then.. but could never shake the guilt

velikan:

-he HATED you when he thought you were a traitor. He had deleted every photo. Burnt every gift. Broke any shared thought. So finding out he had lost all of that hurt him so much he sat and cried for days, begging and pleading to anything that time could rewind and that he could have his memories and gifts back

-he tried so hard to make new ones with you to, he basically followed you like a lost puppy. But he knew even though you forgave him, he was damned to feel guilt every time you weren’t your same old self

-he missed his memories of you in photos and pages of his journals, he missed your bright smile and loud confidence, he missed all the things you changed from trauma he didn’t stop

-he hated himself for hating you when you were so innocent

keegan:

-he felt rage, rage at his teammates, rage at the captain who reported you for suspicious activity, and most of all, rage at himself for not protecting you like he always promised you he would

-couldn’t stand seeing you flinch, couldn’t stand not being able to reassure you that it would be okay and that he would protect you if it ever happened again

-because he knew his words of protection didn’t mean anything now. He had failed to protect you and even participated in harming you for something as simple as a claim…

kreuger:

-he thought that as soon as he started to fix things, you yourself would get fixed. But he was so wrong

-tried anything he could think of to make you feel safe to be yourself again, and whenever it didn’t work he’d secretly shed a tear

-it was like seeing his lovers ghost.. you weren’t you anymore, and it shattered him so much that he couldn’t fix it

-he could fix his guns, he could clean up your wounds, he could tell you that it was okay to be yourself again, he could fix the broken mirrors in his room, but he couldn’t fix you. He couldn’t get you back the way he remembered you, and he knew no matter how many years of therapy kortac paid for, it still wouldn’t fix you perfectly…

[diejager]

New Beginings

Pairing: dark!Krueger & König x doll!reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, possessive behaviour, smut, rough sex, manhandling, overstimulation, mean!Krueger, creampie, cunnilingus, fingering, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.3k

Your new body was… odd. Once, you didn’t need substinence, you could live without eating, or drinking, or breathing, but you now needed food, water, sleep and air to continue on. You didn’t understand how humans could live with such restraint, a body so easily broken and weak when all you did was sit and collect dust until you were cleaned by your caretaker. It was difficult to live this way, it was such a stark difference to your usual life. You were a fragile thing, spending most of your days limp and tiredly laying on your nest of blanket and softness in the golden cage Kruegerbought you.

Krueger was a distant relative of your father, he might’ve shared your father’s blood and pride, but he was nothing, if not vastly different from him. Sebastian Krueger was a crude and brash man, voice low and arrogant while he manhandled you with cruel and careless hands, pushing and pulling you around his broad figure. Unlike your thin and artistic father, Krueger was a firm and strong man, skin scarred from past battles, some won and some lost, but it added to his terrifying image as much as his veil did. 

After your rebirth, he moved you to an elegant, golden cage where you would live the rest of your life, completely at his mercy. He knew you would depend on him for nourishment, for relief and for company, locked away in the shadow of his bedroom to stare and admire like someone would do to a dove —you were his dove, an angel who’s wings he clipped to keep. He kept to a strict routine, he woke you up with a rough shake, his calloused fingers sinking into your softer skin to pull you out, whether or not you were used to using and feeling your legs didn’t matter, whatever he said goes. 

He fed you three times a day with snacks spread across the day, stuffing you round with food despite your complaints about not being hungry anymore, unused to having an body that necessitated food to work. Then he’d sit you on his lap as he worked, his hand sliding down your waist to grip your hip, sometimes staying put while he signed papers, and others straying to your thighs, kneading your oversensitive fat until you squirm and whine. 

He mostly kept his hands to himself when he was busy working, his mind cued sharply into finishing his work for the day to lounge and relax, but he liked - insisted on - touching you whenever he could, rucking up the edge of your dress and cupping the uncomfortable heat of your mound, curling his fingers through your slit and thumb your throbbing clit. He seemed to enjoy your high mewls and writhing, back arched forward and grinding your ass into a hard and painful bulge in his pants. 

Often times, you’d end up splayed over his desk, your clothes ripped in half from the top and left hanging under you while he rammed into you, his low grunts and cruel degrading left you in a wet and cock dumb mess of whining and crying. The red and swollen head of his cock battering your cervix, wringing orgasm after orgasm from you until he had his fill, the tip spurting hot and heavy ropes of thick cum. When he was done, he sat you on his half-hard cock, the girth still wide enough to plug you without reaching for one, your tear-strained eyes blinking tiredly and head resting against his neck.

That was usually what he did: breakfast, work, fucking you, dinner, fucking you, relaxing, supper, relaxing and fucking you to sleep, rarely diverting from it if he could. Krueger was a creature of routines, familiarity and strict form, thriving off his military training to teach you how to walk and talk, building a rigid structure to teach you. He could be cruel with his words, rough with his hands and perverted with his eyes, but he was… loving in a sense, despite how mean he was, he cared for you and provided for you in your uselessness. 

But unlike Krueger, who was heartlessly taunting to you, his roommate - König - was gentle and careful with you, playing with you as if you were still the porcelain doll you used to be. König was the giant of the two, a tall and broad man who stood twice as tall and twice as big as you, a seemingly monster in his rights. His wide palms petting your mop of hair, thick fingers carding through the bothersome knots and dressing you up for the day. He was a second factor of your routine, if you weren’t with Krueger, you were with him. 

He wasn’t cruel like Krueger, dauntingly stern, yes, but he never degraded you and laughed when you teared up. He was surprisingly tender with you, handling you with a softness that reminded you of your late father, mumbling quietly to you and showering you in affection. König praised you and loved you in his own way, a sickening and possessive obsession, mumbling promises that he would protect you from all the world’s cruelty, but what about his roommate’s ruthlessness? He told you not to worry your pretty, little head about him, Krueger couldn’t be fixed, it was the effect of whatever he lived through in battle.

König might’ve been your favourite between the two for how he isn’t purposefully mean, he didn’t degrade you, he didn’t growl and hiss at you, and he didn’t break his word. But he was still your captor, a man with as much - if not more - needs and wants as Krueger, with how often he pawed at your shorts, pushing them down your thighs to rut his cock between the sweep of your ass, carving a space between your clefs. If he was feeling particularly merciful, he’d stretch you enough, a thick and long finger filling your tight cunt before another pushed in, drowning your pained mewls and pants with his scarred lips. He always made you come once or twice, stuffing three fingers in an effort to fit his monstrous size, his girth and length too much for you. Much to your dismay, he made it fit, it was hot and steely, ploughing through you like you were made to take it, your slick and his abundance of pre making his thrusts smooth and easy.

If he was feeling sadistic, he would spend hours preparing you, holding you against his chest by a firm grip on your throat, your ankles hooked under him as he took his time fingering you. He praised you, his deeper growl wonderfully soft while he pampered you with his unending insistence of wetting his sheets with your musk, for the smell of your cum and sweat to stick to his room. He held you down to thrust his fingers, the palm of his hand rubbing your swollen nub, landing sharp slaps on your wet thighs until you’re sobbing out in overstimulation, writhing and fighting him with every claw and hit. 

Only when you stared blankly ahead, drool rolling down your chin and limbs spasming, does he finally fuck you, bottoming out in a quick snap of his hips and pounding you into his bed. He moved you to his whims, sometimes face down and ass up, other times folded in, your legs swung over his shoulders and back curved almost uncomfortably. You’re lucky you were made flexible, seemingly outworldly with how easily König and Krueger bent you over every surface of the house and folded you in half to watch their cocks break you in and your cunt gape, oozing their thick and bitter cum.

You hoped you’d get used to the workings of your body soon, your shaking limbs and painful cramps hindering you in your attempts to flee, to spread your wings and escape your golden cage.

“We just wants what’s best for you, Rehkitz.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @rae-pottah @cassiecasluciluce

[spookiboogi]

They’re in love your honor

[milomossy]

time to drink kvass with nikto, you can't refuse

n: stop scrolling, we got business here

k: ...

k: damn you're pissing me off... fine, pour

n: good choice

[konigsblog]

WARNINGS: STEPCEST, NON-CON/DUB-CON, MANIPULATION, INTOXICATION, ALCOHOL CONSUMPTION.

stepbrothers könig and krueger... those cheeky, cruel bastards, having no remorse for what they do to their younger stepsister. :(

they're brutal and harsh with their words; slut shaming and victim blaming you, telling you that it was your fault, that you came onto them in your drunken, intoxicated and needy state.

krueger and könig will make you sob pathetically, after slipping an aphrodisiac into your drink, watching you fidget with your hands and squirm in your seat at the sensation of your cum-soaked panties. arousal runs down your soft, supple thighs in droplets, rubbing them together in fruitless attempt at concealing the way your body was suddenly reacting. they'd handed you more alcohol, forcing it down your throat while they became more touchy, your perspective on your stepbrothers beginning to change and become warped, twisted into something it shouldn't be.

as they were your stepbrothers, their duty was to protect you, to care for you. yet, they took advantage of the power and authority they had over you. through your drunken state, you didn't recognise them as your stepbrothers anymore, beginning to rub against them in an attempt to seduce them, smirking at one another as they began to peel your wet, slick panties off. your lips attached to krueger's, dragging your tongue over his bottom lip and intertwining your tongue with his, while könig pressed his muscular hips around you, running his bulbous, hot cock over your folds. he gave you a last chance to redeem yourself, to realise how perverted you looked, before he took what he desired.

he rolled his broad hips against your rear, chuckling hoarsely at the sound of you sucking in a sharp, deep breath. you moaned against krueger's lips as könig grinded himself against you, holding back his grunts as he prodded against your slit. your hole weeped, desiring to be filled and stuffed full, while your pretty head was all fucked up and confused, feeling krueger guide your head lower to his crotch. sat on all fours like a mutt, your ass in the air and your face pressed and nuzzled against krueger's hot, bulging crotch, the feeling and outline of his hard, stiff dick leaving you drooling over his boxers. you moaned blissfully as könig began to thrust against you, pushed inside of your puffy, wet heat. your body ached and your cunt throbbed at the stretch, yet, you pleaded for the man behind you to go harder, unaware of what was really going on...

your lips opened, wrapping around krueger's lengthy, veiny dick, as he began to push and guide your head lower, throwing his head back as you took him all the way down to the base. something inside of you twisted, your stomach churning with guilt and unknown shame, not understanding why it felt so wrong, but so so good all at the same time... your moans were silenced and muffled as you sucked krueger's dick, leaving his balls coated in drool as your coated him in spit, panting and heaving and attempting to catch your breath as könig rammed and slammed against your poor, tight ass.

your core tightened with your orgasm, arousal building up inside of you, causing your eyes to glisten and your pussy to throb and pulse around könig uncontrollably. god, they knew how disgusting and depraved this was; to perv on their younger stepsister, in your vulnerable and reliant state. you clung to them, sucking krueger off and looking into his eyes with shame, while könig's balls smacked against your cunt repeatedly, sending you over the edge, bruising your warm wetness and leaving you shaken up with cum dripping from your tongue.

the next morning, your body felt weak and the realisation left you trembling and disgusted. unable to look at them in the eye, or even yourself in the mirror. thinking about how depraved you were last night, while they told you it wasn't their fault – their bodies reacted, and they were just treating you right, after all, that's their duty, taube. :(

[yawnderu]

In the angry Krueger aggressively teaching (bullying you into learning) German saga, imagine a newbie soldier asking you about your memorable moments in the military and your answer isn't about your difficult missions, trauma, or war crimes if you have any. It's this:

"I remember being taught German by force in front of everyone in the cafeteria"

"My friend was about to flip the table"

"Missions and training didn't even stop him from teaching me because he magically appears out of NOWHERE when I want to rest"

"Sir would rather teach me German than recover from his injuries"

Krueger means well but Krueger is....Krueger!

This whole concept is genuinely killing me because I'm just imagining Krueger, all roughed up after a dangerous mission, his leg broken and in a cast, yet still managing to find his way to your room for those god awful German lessons. 😭

He did NOT manage to survive that mission just to stay in his room, he survived out of spite, to ensure you learn German even when you pretend you're not in your quarters. He'll break in if necessary. 😭

[machveil]

hey so I eat your Konig stuff up but if you feel up to it I BEG OF YOU to do something with my sweet(insane) princess(grown man)Krueger it can be like,general partner hcs or soemthing specific idk,I am starved for Krueger content.

I just dropped what I was doing because I need you to know anon!! I need you to know I agree, I’m famished for babygirl (soldier) Krueger

General Thoughts about Sebastian Krueger

you didn’t see me accidentally post this early

so, he’s morally ambiguous in my eyes. the Corporal has canonically killed civilians and escaped custody - do we know why? no, his past Lieutenant literally befriended him to help him get to know that team because he saw “talent in a troubled mind”

given his background, it takes a while for him to open up to you - let alone even think of dating you

he’s got a unique personality, humor that ranges on the darker side. he thinks he’s very funny, and he laughs a little harder when he sees the concerned looks he gets after cracking a joke. if you’re also one to find humor in the dark he’ll take a liking to you - someone that can match his freak lol

he’s a surprisingly light eater - he prefers to eat small meals, little portions, throughout the day something about a sensitive stomach. he doesn’t snack though, he literally just eats small meals, he’ll get a bit of protein, some carbs, vitamins. no one knows why he eats like that - no one really knows why he does what he does generally

he’ll get comfortable with you eventually though, maybe sit down with him while he eats. he can enjoy a comfortable silence. he’s not a fan of small talk, why fill the silence when you have nothing to say?

if you’re dating he’s a stoic, serious body guard for you… but he’s still got a soft spot in his heart, he’ll call you meine Prinzessin/Prinz, meine Herz, little Vogel - his Princess/Prince, his heart, little bird

he’s got a possessive streak - maybe a little unhealthy. he can come off as controlling in some aspects he is, but can you blame him? you’re his to protect, his Herz - who wouldn’t protect someone they hold dear?

[thedovesaredying]

Sweet Temptations | Fae!Krueger x F!Witch Reader

Krueger has noticed someone new living in the cottage belonging to the old witch that used to live at the edge of the village. He's curious about the sweet little witch who has moved in and wants to keep her all to himself. Unforunately, there's a small, hairless demon getting in his way.

A/N: I'm working on other stuff, but I wanted to make something purely for my own enjoyment. Techincally it's an OC, but it's written in second person so it can be read as a Reader fic! Tagging @ghouljams because I've already rambled about my child to them 0w0 Also based on their

Warnings: None.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

Next

Krueger has walked the same path every day for decades. He lingers just on the edge of the village, not wanting to get too close to the other more territorial fae, but also not wanting to be too far from human civilisation. The woods are thick, but small trails weave their way through it and by now Krueger knows each path by heart. He used to take this path to meet with the strange witch that lived in a little cottage at the very edge of town, trading his finds for some sweet, honeyed milk.  

But the old woman has been gone for a while, leaving her ancient cottage to become overgrown with vines and the once natural garden to be choked with weeds and bordered by chest high grass. It’s a sorry state to be sure, wood slowly rotting and stone covered in thick layers of mold. Even the wards designed to keep out even the strongest of fair folk have started to wane and wither without the old woman’s religious maintenance of them.  

It’s unfortunate, really, as most younger witches are a little too nervous when it comes to making deals with the fae. He hasn’t had a nice, warm mug of his favourite beverage in years and he’s had no one to trade the pretty items he’s collected with. Sure, Nikto sometimes tolerates him long enough to swap some gold or a shiny gem or two, but it’s not the same as dealing with a witch or mortal man. Besides, the grumpy bastard has been too distracted by his little human pet to be bothered dealing with Krueger recently.  

He still checks the little house as he walks past in the morning, just to be sure the witch hasn’t magically arisen from the grave and returned to her usual place settled in the conservatory. No doubt that’s why he’s so quick to notice something is very different about the witch’s house. The old wards are still humming away, albeit softer and softer with each passing day, but something else clouds the invisible border around the property.  

It’s dark and cloying, enough to choke a lesser fae on the spot and likely to deter even some of the stronger among them. The air lingers with a thick scent of brimstone and ash, leaving a dry, dusty taste in his mouth the closer he gets. His eyes almost water with the burn of it, and he barely resists the urge to wipe at his face, as if it’s been covered with a layer of soot. His hood gives him little protection from it, not when the cause is something magic rather than physical.  

It irritates him that something or someone has decided to take over the area and somehow has managed to worm its way past the old witch’s wards to claim territory that very clearly does not belong to it. It isn’t exactly his problem anymore, but well, fae are possessive and Krueger is no different.  

The witch’s wards are soft and masterfully refined, flowing between his clawed fingers like strands of silk. A warm embrace of foreign magic that tingles against his skin and draws him slowly deeper, letting him sink into it like hot custard. But it’s stopped abruptly by a new layer of wards – if they can even be considered wards with how different they are to human magic – they burn, hotter than even Nikto’s fire, forcing him to retract his hand before it can be scalded.  

The sharp barrier seems to ripple for a moment in response to his touch, sharp and dangerous as it twitches and writhes angrily. He’s distracted from the magic, however, when he spots the tall grass before him start to part, allowing a small creature to pass through. The animal squints at him momentarily, before leaping from the ground and onto the thick stone wall separating the backyard from the woods.  

It would be a stretch to call the creature a cat, what with the way it lacks even a single strand of fur. It’s an ugly thing, with pink, wrinkly skin and eyes that are more like orbs of obsidian than anything a mortal animal would possess. They’re deep, like staring into the very abyss itself, and just as ominous in the way they silently rove over his form, scrutinising. It seems unimpressed with whatever it finds, eyelids drooping and a single lip curling as if disgusted.  

“What do you want, creature?” admittedly, Krueger is startled by the deep voice that comes from the cat. Unbothered, it continues, slowly as though speaking to a child “this territory has already been claimed.”  

A demon. Of course it has to be a damn demon.  

It will be difficult to deal with such a bothersome creature. Reaching an agreement with his fellow fae can be trouble enough, but a demon? Unbeholden to the need to at least tell the truth? Truly, perhaps the most irritating creature one can have the misfortune of having to deal with.  

“Why are you here, Dämon?” he growls, offering a disgusted scowl of his own. It’s hidden by his hood, but no doubt can be heard easily enough in his tone.  

The demon simply sits itself on the wall, leisurely raising a paw to lick. After a moment of lazy grooming, it finally says, “I do believe I asked first, it’s rather rude to ignore someone’s question.”  

“Just passing through,” which is true enough considering he had no plans of actually approaching the cottage until his spine prickled with discomfort, warning him of a nearby danger. “The owner and I have an arrangement,” he gestures at the somewhat crumbling house.  

Rolling its eyes as though already bored out of its mind the cat stands again, taking a moment to stretch out its back, “well, I suggest you mind your own business, fae. The new owner has no interest in dealing with those of your kind.” The demon opens its mouth to say something further, but the door leading to the conservatory suddenly slides open.  

“Fluff? You out here?” Your voice, soft as it may be, is easily carried over to them on the breeze. You scan the backyard, eyes easily finding Krueger’s large form and the smaller cat currently staring him down. You huff, hiking up the skirt of your dress and making the lengthy walk from the house and down the winding path to the back gate.  

Kreuger can’t help staring. You look like such a sweet thing, body soft enough for him to sink his teeth into and never let go. Your hair is scattered all over the place from the wind, but you pay it no mind, offering a beaming smile to the foul little demon now blinking at you in surprise. “What are you doing out here silly kitty? Are you making new friends?” you coo, scooping the creature up into your arms as though it couldn’t kill you on the spot.  

The demon’s face screws up and it hisses at Krueger from your arms, before nuzzling at the soft fabric of your dress, grumbling all the while. “Sorry,” you say, wincing slightly at Kreuger, “he doesn’t really like strangers.” As if that’s a good explanation for why you're cuddling an ugly ass cat demon.  

You start to shuffle your feet and Krueger is abruptly reminded that he hasn’t said a word to you, just stood there staring at you like a complete idiot. “Ah, no, I was just not expecting anyone to be here,” he tucks his hands into his pockets, idly thumbing at one of his gold coins, “I was a good friend of the woman who lived here.”  

You perk up at his words, eyes brightening at something he’s said and hugging the cat closer to your chest, “oh! That was my grandmother!” You chirp, almost bouncing on your heels in excitement, “she left the house to me in her will, so I’ve been trying to fix the place up and make it liveable again.” The cat squirms in your hold, forcing you to plop him down onto the grass below.  

“Ah,” Krueger says slowly, all of the pieces slowly falling into place, well, all except for the demon thing, “and what might your name be?” 

He holds out a hand for you to shake, but is instead met by an outraged hiss and only just moves his arm out of range in time to avoid the flurry of sharp claws swiping through the air. He can’t help glaring at the damn demon currently hissing and spitting at him, flicking its tongue at him like a bloody snake.  

Surprisingly, you still hold your hand out for him, but your eyes seem to have shifted from their brightness to something more subdued, cautious. “You can just call me Badb,” you offer, and it doesn’t have the same enlightening feeling as someone’s true name, but he supposes you must not be as naive as you seem. You give his hand a firm shake, effortlessly ignoring the sharp talon-like claws at the end of his own fingers.  

“A pleasure,” he shakes your hand back, feeling the lick of human magic press against his palm. You’re a witch, nowhere near as controlled or as refined as the old woman, but he can sense the potential power hiding within. “Can I expect you to continue your grandmother’s practice?” He asks, watching your eyebrows twitch slightly.  

It does draw a soft snort from you, however, and you nod your head, “one day,” you confirm, “though probably not for a while yet, I’m not that good.” Your flustered expression is rather cute, but he doesn’t have long to admire it, because almost as soon as he’s seen it you’re scooping up the cat and bidding him a quick farewell, saying something about having work to do. The demon stares at him from over your shoulder, glaring at him in clear distaste. 

Nasty lying creature.  

He’s definitely going to need to dig into this a little deeper. A little baby witch? So sweet and soft and perfect for holding between his claws? He wants to gnaw on your bones and squeeze the plushness of your thighs. He wants to settle atop the fireplace with a full belly while you play at making your silly potions and funny human spells.  

He just needs to get rid of that damn cat first.  

[pourinn]

Doodle

[nyutasomething]

COD — WALLPAPERS