bats-in-the-attic

[bats-in-the-attic]

god going on a date with johnny whom you matched on tinder and he's the type of guy you avoid like the plague; jaw-dropping good looks, cheeky ㅤㅤsmiles, hits the gym more in a week than you've done all year and worst of all, could charm the pants off a snake.

so it's truly no wonder that you end up letting him bury his face between your thighs and lap at your glistening sex until your moans almost turn into screams and you haven't even left the bar's driveway, then left to watch johnny wipe the condensation off the windshield with a spare shirt so he can drive you home all the while his chin drips with your slick.

he fucks you against the front door once inside, legs hooked over his arms, then again over your couch, hand curled around your throat, and again, in front of your full length mirror while he tells you how pretty you look taking all of him, to look at how pretty you look, his crystalline eyes latching onto yours through the reflection, pretty as a peach.

then he leaves you with his spend sticking your thighs together, a languid kiss that tastes of you, and with his personal number on a scrap piece of paper.

and that's the last you hear of him. he'd said that he's quite a busy man, military and whatnot, and all in all, while you'd raked your nails down his back on the first date, it had been a date. you require more than good sex to get into a committed relationship.

a swipe of your thumb brings up tinder again, and you match with another bloke not your type. big, broad man, biceps the size of your thighs with a deadpan stare that sees right through false bravado. but he's doesn't seem to care in the slightest that he makes you nervous, doesn't care that you stutter out responses to his rather abnormal questions.

simon takes you home and sits eerily silent with his hands dwarfing the steering wheel as you chew on your lip before tentatively inviting him in for a nightcap, and you must be the luckiest person on the planet because he's just as devoted to your pleasure as your last partner.

he brings you peak after peak with his tongue, his fingers, swirls your pearl with the tip of his misaligned nose. then he lets you be on top first, concentration knitting your brows togethee as you try to fit all of him in and pride warms your cheeks when you can hear his teeth audibly grind as his fingers bite into the soft of your waist once you take him to the root, thighs flush against his hips.

you come undone more times than you can count, the neighbors more than likely knowing his name by the time he walks out the front door (after checking the locks on your windows) and that's that.

until it isn't because a text from johnny awakens your phone screen, an invite to a restaurant downtown next saturday, one you've only ever fancied of eating at and well-

a date is a date, isn't it?

you tell him to pick you up at seven and he tells you to wear something you wouldn't mind letting him keep underneath, preferably something in red. (must've seen that particular number while you looked for some sleeping shorts before he left that night.)

hopefully you won't feel too bad breaking things off with whoever doesn't ask you to be theirs first.

(simon and johnny fuck each other to the thought of you back at base, simon's fist viciously tight around johnny's cock as he's got him drooling into the flattened pillow, almost like she's fucking you too, eh, johnny?)

[bats-in-the-attic]

if i can't bite the hand that feeds me i'll just suck on its fingers

[bats-in-the-attic]

I want more stalker!Gaz.

Let that man be so charming when you meet at a bookstore.

Let him make you swoon when you happen to bump into him again at the coffee shop! Accidental drink mix up? That's alright doll, he'll give you his latte in exchange for your number.

Let him pretend he didn't notice you at the bar that weekend conveniently about one day after your nerves make you ghost him.

Let him be the one to help when your Uber gets a flat on the way home – you just got into walking distance? What luck, he'll walk you home.

Oh, you're scared bc you keep hearing noises at night? Well he's always available for a call.

And if you call someone else? Unfortunately they won't answer the next time. Or the time after that. He's patient. He'll let you go through your entire rolladex until he's the only one you think to call.

Don't worry how he got to your house so fast.

Don't worry when he seems to be able to lead you directly to your room with ease.

Don't worry when he insists on sleeping in the room with you. You can trust him. How else would he have kept you safe all this time?

[bats-in-the-attic]

what do you mean hes fictional. i need him

[bats-in-the-attic]

Ghost: I don’t have PTSD. It’s just the effects of the curse I have on me.

Therapist: …

Ghost: The curse was put on me by my parents and the British Government, but that’s irrelevant.

[bats-in-the-attic]

I feel like john price is the kind of old-fashioned guy who surprises you with a trail of roses leading up the bed where you find him naked, sprawled on his side with a bottle of expensive champagne covering his crotch

a cheeky grin on his face as you eye up his thick thighs, burly chest and pudgy tummy

sigh do you see the vision?

[bats-in-the-attic]

[bats-in-the-attic]

[bats-in-the-attic]

even though he will never admit out loud, nanami loves receiving head. Sloppy, dirty, nasty head. He likes to sit there after a long day of hard work, watching you sitting on your knees and give him the most sloppiest head he’s ever had. He loves the feeling when he hits the back of your throat until you’re gagging around him and you come back up for air, drooling, smiling at him so sweetly. “You’re doing such a good job, baby.” He always praises you, his words giving you motivation to make him cum even faster and harder. You’re licking and sucking on his balls, his legs trembling and breath hitching. “Fuck, fuck, just like that,” he moans. He loves grabbing a fistful of your hair, thrusting his hips and fucking your face until your eyes are teary. You make him so worked up, so sensitive that sometimes he has to hold off on cumming too quickly. The sight of your pretty lips wrapped around him makes his brain fuzzy. “So pretty with my dick down your throat,” he cooes. You drive him crazy, because you don’t just suck his dick…you make love to it. You’re always so willing to give to him, dropping to your knees the minute he looks stressed and sucking him off until he’s cumming in your mouth. You don’t understand how much you’ve tainted his brain. “How was work today, Ken?” You casually ask, jerking him off slowly while pre cum leaks from his swollen tip only to have him in your mouth seconds later. Nanami Kento loves head, especially from you.

[bats-in-the-attic]

Soap who’s so fucking nasty

Soap who does every single thing that your other boyfriends refused to do.

He kisses you after you suck him off. Eats his own cum out of you. Pins you down to get a taste of you when you’ve just come home after a long day— doesn’t let you shower. Likes you unshaven. Doesn’t want you wearing deodorant or perfume on his birthday.

He likes to fuck you when you’re sick because fevers just make your cunt even hotter than usual. And he’ll still shove his tongue down your throat— he doesn’t give a damn if he gets sick.

When you wake up he’ll start making out with you, smearing his cheek against the drool you left on the pillow.

He tells you he can practically smell your sweet, wet cunt. Then when he gets you undressed, he just buries his head between your legs and breathes deep.

Every time you go hiking he wants a pussyjob from you. He wants to leave a sticky mess for you to feel in your panties on the way back down. The leggings you wear just drive him crazy like that.

He likes for you to get each other off while you’re still clothed and then swap underwear.

[bats-in-the-attic]

★ thinking about virgin!choso who's actually the roughest of the jjk men once he gets inside of you for the first time.

he may appear sweet and innocent from the outside, with those wide chestnut eyes and adorable messy pigtails... but don't be so easily fooled so by his exterior — haven't you ever heard that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover?

because while his body trembles like a baby fawn and a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead as he pushes the first few inches of his flushed cock into you, he becomes an entirely different person when he finally bottoms out.

what begin as gentle whimpers turn into animalistic growls as he experiments with a few slow thrusts into your wet heat, swollen tip hitting against your spongy g spot each time with how deep his lengthy dick is buried.

but soon enough, those shallow, unsure movements of his hips are morphing into ruthless, forceful slams; as if his entire way of being has been altered by the mere feeling of your snug cunt wrapped around him.

and he can't seem to stop even for a moment now that he's settled into a rhythm, eyes screwed tightly shut in pleasure and fists clenched in the sheets either side of your head as the entire bed rocks back and forth with the sheer strength behind his movements.

he's completely lost in his own in his own little world, ears deaf to your desperate cries and pleas of "c-cho, you're going too fast!" or "can't take it anymore! 's too big!" as he continues to pound your poor body into the mattress.

thinking about choso who's no longer a virgin anymore but has to spend the aftermath of his first time comforting you, kissing away the dried remains of your tears and carrying your aching body to the bathroom to clean you up because your shaky legs are too weak to walk on.

[bats-in-the-attic]

- Ya know, gorgeous, if you wanted to give me one of your lovely hickey, you could have just asked -

....

I chewed on his tiddies. Sowwy.

And I still don't feel comfortable drawing his stupid cute face. Coddammit.

I also made one version with body hair, but i wasn't quite sure...also, I'm kinda happy with the colors, but proportions are a little less...chubby. I'll make him softer next time.

....

[bats-in-the-attic]

König who does have a fat ass actually. Its just so soft and plump that it molds to the shape of his pants. How do you know?

Maybe one sunday morning when you were passing your colonel by breakfast when someone accidentally shoves you. Grabbing the nearest thing to stop you from imminently falling. Its no use of course but you sure as hell copped a feel of heaven's pillows.

"Sorry!", the recruit that pushed you yelled out as if that could snap you out of your newfound daze. You didn't even focus until said colonel snapped his fingers at you. A cup of tea in his other hand while he bent down to take a closer look at you and now you at him.

Full chest, heavy thighs and large palms. So maybe you "passed out" so he could carry you to the infirmary. No one would blame you.

[bats-in-the-attic]

rough, violent, relentless CNC

🤝🏻

sweet, apologetic praises

[bats-in-the-attic]

Simon that likes it when you scratch his beard. Especially when its just grown enough to be poking through his mask but short enough that your nails can wander freely.

Like a cat under the sun he's content. Sitting between your legs and pressed against your chest. Simon was watching the tv before he decided it was much better to lean his head back on your shoulder. Neck exposed to the cold air when it's used to tucked under his chin or protected by cloth and gear.

"Don't you dare stop", he'll grumble out when your hand pauses to help shift yourself to a spot that doesn't push down on your back. You'll just chuckle when he released a sigh, hands continuing to scratch near his neck and jaw while you feel him grow heavier.

Leaning fully against you and pushing you into the bed when he falls asleep. At least you have time to watch your show now. If he doesn't wake up when you stop that is.

[bats-in-the-attic]

Favourite ship dynamic: no one truly knows what exactly is going on between the two characters, including the characters themselves. But whatever it is, it's written in the fabric of the universe.

[bats-in-the-attic]

The fun thing about COD is that everyone who calls the 141 and every other operator their precious little mew mew skrunkly is fully aware that Soap once used an enemy soldier as a meat shield, Price responded to a barricade by attempting vehicular manslaughter, Gaz saw one terrorist attack and decided going feral was an option that should be on the table, and Ghost is, well, Ghost.

They know their little mew mews are war criminals and they do not care.