His Twitter Oh My I My Husband Is So Hot Papi I Love Your Twitter

His twitter oh my 😩😩 i my husband is so hot 🥵 papi I love your twitter 🫶🏻

Scorched Earth

Summary: His enemies call him Namor, but what are you to him?

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Warnings: Smut. Smutty Drabble. Unedited af.

A/N: This man is fine. I had to write something. The ending is corny. That's about it.

My enemies call me, “Namor.”

You wonder if that's what you are to him as his face is between the vines of your legs. He's nestled there tightly, tongue delving deep inside you, searching for hidden coves that make you choke and twist. Even with your head thrown back, the explosion of stars in the night sky appearing filmy behind your tear-slicked eyes, you wonder. Are you his enemy?

To all others, you are. A line has been drawn where the ocean meets the sand. If your people knew of this they'd exile you. Call you a traitor. But you weren't the one to take a twig and etch that line in the sand, why is it your responsibility to abide by rules you played no part in crafting?

“Namor,” you heave, each syllable a hard pant into the cicada chirping air. Rigid fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, pressing, burning until you feel them at your bones. And he moans, tasting you, vibrations hitting your clit and making you shiver. He likes when you call him that, you figure.

You test the limits, moan it again. Hungry. Pleading. No regard for appearances. If pride bound you, you would've deprived yourself of this feeling. Of him pulling you under, whisking you away from the surface world all by the command of his tongue.

He slinks up your body, graceful muscles flexing beneath the swollen moon. It's the only bit of light in his dark eyes. Your hands find themselves in his hair, still wet from the waters of his home. He palms your tits on his way up, squeezing roughly, and your teeth knock together as you try to contain your noises.

A language you don't understand, he hisses into your ear. Sounds good. Feels good as you collect the salt off the brined skin of his shoulder. You bite, pulling at the skin with a throaty chortle.

“Play fair. Not fun if I don't know what you're saying.”

“What I said,” he kisses you and beneath the taste of yourself is something you've never known. Something without a name. “Wasn't for you to know.”

“Keeping secrets,” you say – can feel yourself fluttering as he teases entering you. “How unbelievably cliché of you.”

He concocts a pretty smile and you feel triumphant for that. It's not a sight you have the honor of seeing a lot.

The curl your fingers have around his hair harshen into a grip when he sinks inside you. Slowly, he's had centuries to live, he's in no rush for anything anymore and takes his time. You open yourself up, stomach twitching from your heavy breathing, and take it all like you're supposed to.

As he pushes deeply, skin against skin with no more to give, and breathes something in that unknown language. Sounds like he's cursing to himself, seething and stretched to his limits.

“Speak up.”

When his thrusting starts, it's at a forceful pace. Harsh snaps that make your teeth chatter with every push inside you. Soaked. Entirely. Crude noises of skin slapping hit the night air as your heels dig into the dirt clad ground.

When he finally speaks to you with a tongue you comprehend, you're too gone to understand the meaning.

“The world will burn against our skins,” he hisses, eyes shut. Brow furrowed. “And it will be glorious.”

Thought about doing a nsfw anon confession page, would anybody be interested? Only for the cod boys that is :)

Paper Flowers (König X Medic!Reader)

Summary ~ You stitch up König’s hand.

Disclaimer ~ I do not own any modern warfare characters.

Word Count ~ 1.6k

Warnings ~ Blood, inaccurate medical stuff

Modern Warfare Masterlist

Taglist ~ @redpool @nightingale-ghost-writer @simonea27 @dyzlks @iccedays @chaoskrakenuwu @untoldshortsofthefandoms @exhaustedpotat0 @mysticcandydeer

A/n ~ first time writing for König! Lemme know what you think! (I put German translations at the bottom for y'all as well)

••••••

It was nearly midnight as you sat at your desk in the infirmary working on filling out different reports from your day, the large stack of paperwork slowly but surely dwindling after hours of tedious work on them. Normally you would have more people to help you with the reports but it had been a very long, very busy day on the base which meant all of your medics were exhausted and deserved to get some rest. You were more than capable of handling some paperwork and your medics were just a radio call away if anything came up.

You were the head doctor on base which meant you were in charge of almost everything that went in or out of the infirmary, patients and staff included.

The coffee cup on your desk had long since run empty and your back was aching from being hunched over as you filled out the papers.

You groaned as you sat back in your chair and stared ahead at the empty infirmary around you, it wasn't often that this room would be so empty, you had relished in the silence as you worked. You weren't scheduled to have anyone else come back in for at least the next hour which meant you still had the place to yourself for the time being.

The silence of the surrounding area was broken when the door to the infirmary was pushed open, your eyes lifting from the papers in front of you to meet the eyes of a very tall, masked man whose whole body stiffened under your gaze.

You smiled kindly at him, “Can I help you?” You stood from your chair and stepped around the desk to walk over to him.

The man's eyes flickered around the room for a moment before settling on you, “I uh, I cut my hand, need someone to look at it.” He spoke in a heavily accented voice as he held up the hand in question, a dark cloth was wrapped around it and you could see a crimson color staining his skin along the bottom of the cloth.

As you approached him you plucked a pair of gloves out of the box on the wall and reached a hand out for his, he pulled back and you frowned.

“You wanna go sit in that room? I'm going to grab a few things and then I'll be in to check on that hand.” You looked up at his cloth-covered face, his eyes bounced everywhere except for yours.

He looked in the direction of the room you were pointing to and nodded, “Okay.”

You watched as he walked into the room and sat down on the edge of the small bed, his shoulders slumping and hands sitting in his lap with his injured one resting on top of the other. Somehow in there, that large soldier of a man looked so small.

You set to work on gathering the supplies your might need, a suture kit, gauze, fresh gloves, and a few things to clean and disinfect the cut.

As you carried your small tray of supplies into the room where the man was sitting you noticed how his uninjured hand was anxiously rubbing up and down along his leg, the palm of his hand creating friction along the tan fabric of his pants.

You sat down on the wheeled stool in the corner and slid over to sit in front of him, “What’s your name?” You asked him as you placed your tray onto the bed beside him, his eyes following your movements.

“Everyone just calls me König.” He looked past you at the curtain wall you had pulled shut over the door to the room.

“It's nice to meet you König, my name is Y/n.” You hummed as you switched out your gloves for a fresh pair, “König, my German still isn't perfect but that means king, yes?” You raised an eyebrow and looked up at him.

His eyes met yours for a split second before they found something else to focus on, “Yes.”

You smiled and reached out for his hand, “May I see your hand König?”

He continued running his palm along the top of his leg as he moved his hand over to you, the bloody cloth gripped tight in his injured hand.

You carefully pulled the cloth off to reveal the cut along his palm, the cut itself was as long as your index finger and ran from just under the base of his thumb down onto his wrist. It was hard to tell how deep the gash was because of all of the blood but you knew it would need stitches.

Lifting his hand so you could get a better few of the cut you noticed how his hands were shaking, “How did you do this?” You reached behind you to pull over a small wheeled table that he could rest his arm on.

“Fixing an engine, my hand got stuck.” He explained briefly.

You set his hand down on top of the table and pressed a clean cloth to it, “Well, you certainly did a good job on your hand König, it's gonna need stitches.” You looked over at him out of the corner of your eye before turning your attention back to his bloody hand, “So what were you doing fixing an engine in the middle of the night?” You'd be lying if you said you weren't curious.

“I couldn't sleep, it needed to be done.” His breathing hitched slightly at the end as you pressed the cloth to his hand, a quiet curse leaving his lips, “I was trying to help.”

You released the pressure on his hand and lifted the cloth, the bleeding had slowed enough that you could start closing it up, “Now it's my turn to help and get your hand patched up, let me just grab some pain meds for you and I’ll get started on it.

“No.” He stopped you from standing and staring at you, “No pain meds.”

You furrowed your brow and sat back down, “You sure?”

He nodded, “They make my head feel weird, I don't like taking them.” He explained.

“Okay.” You reached to your suture kit that was resting on the bed, “This is probably gonna sting, I'm sorry.”

He didn't say anything as you began working, threading the curved needle and holding it in a pair of forceps.

“What do you like to do in your free time?” You asked him, you could see he was anxious and you wanted to try and keep his mind occupied while you worked.

You waited for him to answer before starting your first stitch, “I uh-I like to draw.”

You smiled and pushed the needle in one side of the cut and through the other, “Artist hands huh? I got my work cut out for me then.” You tied off the first stitch, “What do you like to draw?” You started on the second stitch.

“Just anything I see when I'm out on missions, I like drawing plants.” He spoke with a little more confidence in his voice, but his hands still shook.

“I've never been very good at drawing, best I can do is a kinda decent looking flower.” You made quick work of the next few stitches, “How’re you doing?” You glanced over at him to see him staring at you.

He quickly looked away and dropped his eyes to his lap, “I'm fine.”

“I'd love to see some of your drawings sometime.” You started on the last stitch.

“Really?”

You nodded and tied off the last stitch, “Yeah! Bring some in whenever you come to get these stitches out.” You dropped your tools onto the table and smiled at him.

His eyes met yours for a moment before he nodded, “I'll do that.”

“I just need to get this wrapped and you'll be good to go König.” You reached to the tray on the table and grabbed the sealed roll of gauze, “Keep this dry for the next couple of days, I can give you some pain meds if you want them but you don't need to take them,” You began explaining to him as you wrapped the gauze around his palm, “Come back in three days and I’ll take a look at it.”

He nodded slowly, “Danke, Y/n.”

“Gerne geschehen.” You hopped off of the stool and began gathering your things, “You're free to go König.”

He stood to his full height and looked down at his bandaged hand mumbling something quietly in German that you couldn't quite make out. He looked at you like he was going to say something before turning and quickly walking out of the infirmary.

You smiled and shook your head while getting to work on cleaning and sanitizing the room.

•••

The next morning when you came back into the infirmary after a much-needed few hours of sleep, one of your medics came up to you and handed you a folded piece of paper that had your name scribbled on it in small writing.

“This was on the front desk when I got here.” She smirked at you with a knowing glance that made you curious.

You shoved your phone into your pocket and walked over to your desk in the corner, unfolding the paper as you walked. A small smile formed on your face as you stared down at the near-perfect pencil drawing of a rose.

<German translations>

Danke > Thank you

Gerne geschehen > You’re welcome/my pleasure

Relief

Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, male masturbation, blow jobs, no gender specified for reader

This is just a little bit of Captain Price filth. Enjoy!

This was wrong. So very wrong. I was clearly intruding on something so personal, intimate and private. But I couldn't leave. Morbid curiosity had me fixed in place. Utterly transfixed at what was unfolding in front of me.

It was all too easy to forget that the Captain was just a mere mortal like the rest of us. His cool composure, steely determination and reassuring presence were akin to those of a superhero. He was the stuff of legend and myth. But he stood in front of me now, all uniform and paraphernalia gone. Just skin, muscle and bone.

The usual hat was replaced by his dishevelled brown hair, standing up on end after being cleaned. The water of the shower cascaded over his shoulders and down along his back. Tiny drops trailed over the battle scars and bruises already forming after the latest mission. His eyes were closed, head bent forwards and leant against the cool tiles. Unusually oblivious to his surroundings because he hadn't registered my presence at all. Price's breathing was heavy with deep exhales through his nostrils One hand was pressed against the wall, bearing his weight and holding him up. While the other hand was between his thighs. Wrapped around the tip of his own cock and sliding back and forth in a steady rhythm.

I was shocked by my own reaction. There was absolutely no privacy between crew mates when we were on deployment and I'd grown all too used to the sight of Soap's arse cheeks or the sound of Gaz trying to be discreet while he sorted himself out only a few feet away from me. My normal reaction was usually one of covering my eyes and getting the hell out of there. But I was intrigued by watching the Captain. Someone who usually seemed above such base human instincts as needing relief after a gruelling day.

Not quite ready to admit it to myself just yet, seeing the captain completely naked tugged ever so slightly at something deep inside me. A flicker of desire that I barely registered, but I already knew would haunt my mind later when I lay in my bunk that night. His years of dedication and training have served him well. Broad shoulders, strong back, smattering of brown hairs over his chest and the ripples of his hard stomach. Glistening and flushed pink under the warm shower.

Price grunted, a deep throaty sound that sounded absolutely primal. Making a heat grow deep inside me. His hand continued back and forth along his shaft, his thumb grazing over the tip that glistened with his precum.

There were a whole host of thoughts flitting through my mind right. Visions of what the Captain looked like when he came, the sound he made and the way that his body betrayed him in subtle little ways even though he tried not to flinch. Spiralling further, I imagined his reactions if I was to approach him. Planting harsh kisses along his neck, nipping and biting him. Trailing my hands along that smattering of soft hair along his navel before joining his hand around his cock. How he would gasp slightly as I lightly cupped his balls, stroking them as he continued to jerk himself off.

Would he turn around and command me down onto my knees in front of him? Bark degrading orders at me while he used me for his own relief. Or would he be happy for someone else to be in charge for once? Letting him collapse against the cold tiles as I helped him to fully relax and unwind. Letting him sink to the back of my throat, softly stroking his balls as I did so, before teasing along his shaft with my tongue. His hand grabbing my hair as he came in the back of my throat.

Jesus, this was wrong, I chided myself. Willing myself to leave before Price realised I was there and things got any weirder than fantasising about sucking the captain's dick.

There was a slight hitch in his breath and all thoughts of leaving disappeared. I'd come this far and I had a carnal need to see the captain unravel in front of me. His hand on the wall tensed, as if he was hanging on for dear life. While the pace of his hand around his cock quickened. There was a slight buck of his hips and I knew that he was reaching that peak. His brow furrowed as his eyes screwed tight. A breathless groan rumbled in his throat as he muttered my name softly and his cum spilled from the tip coating his hand.

My name.

My face burned with heat, as I ran out of the shower room faster than I ever thought possible.