CryptidCritters

First try at an animation! ✧
Im still resting my hands but if i go more than a few days without drawing Something i perish
#simonghostriley

I'm so glad you like it! I finally got around to writing sheep Simon. He's so sweet and precious!

Also had to share it here! Thank you to @fusseluke.bsky.social for all the love you're showing these two- hope i could get close to what you where picturing while writting! 🫶 #ocart #militaryoc #oc

Interested in reading abt Liam and Maxim? Find their writing here >>> x.com/FusselUke/st...

#softwrites #ghoap #soapghost

johnny gets hurt

johnny gets hurt and it’s ghost’s fault

bsky.app/profile/cryp...

unless I say. Don’t make me tie your hands. If I have to, you won’t be coming tonight. Got it?”.

Price nods, hands balling into fists at his sides. Simon grins, leaning down and kissing the hollow of his throat.

“Then let’s get started”.

The captain bites back a groan, and Soap can see his hands twitch near the blond’s thighs, but he keeps his hands to himself.

“You’re gonna take what I give you,” Simon purrs, voice deadly and thick. "You can make all the noise you want- /beg/ all you want- but no touching --

the pillows he quickly stacked together. Simon hums as he gazes down at him, now tracing his hand along his entire body before he too pulls off his top and swiftly climbs up, straddling Price’s thighs, his panty clad cock barely nudging Price’s balls. --

“As for you,” the lieutenant purrs. “Shirt off and on the bed. On your back”.

Price nods curtly, a noticeable shiver running through him as he steps away from Simon’s touch and rips the rest of his clothes off. He climbs onto the bed, situating himself back against --

"You be good, and I’ll give you a nice treat”.

The sergeants nod, quickly getting to their knees on Soap’s right, all three of them facing the bed. Price stands beside it, still staring up at Simon who hasn’t stopped teasing his finger along his weeping cock. --

They don’t complain though. It's clear that would get none of them anywhere.

“Gaz, Roach,” Simon says, looking round at them sharply. “You’ll join Johnny on the floor. Shirts off, same position, no touchin’- yourselves /or/ each other. --

reaching down to run a finger atop his shaft. Price lets out a shaky breath, but keeps eye contact, surely not wanting to misstep. “You’ll fuck me first”.

Soap sees Roach and Gaz deflate some, glancing down at Price’s cock as if trying to figure out what decided that. --

By the time he makes his round, they all have a bead of pre clinging to their tips. Simon ends up back in front of them, lips pursed in thought.

“Price,” he says, their captain perking up before composing himself. Simon huffs a small laugh and steps up to him, --

Simon appraises them, inspecting each of them closely. He wraps a hand around Roach, pulling a surprised gasp out of him as he strokes him a few times, then lets go. He gives the same attention to Gaz and Price too, each man groaning at the fleeting friction. --

"I don’t give a fuck what the rest of your bloody rules were. This is my game now. So, pants /off/”.

They obey, fingers fumbling in their haste. Soap watches as they strip their bottom layers off, hard cocks springing up as they wait for their next instructions. --

“Pants and trousers off,” he commands. They glance at each other in shock, hands going uncertainly to their zippers. Simon sighs impatiently, rolling his eyes again. “If any of you want to fuck me, you’ll do as I say. Your bet is over. --

"He may have made the bet, but you three bellends went along with it”.

He snaps his fingers, the sound cracking through the tense silence like a gunshot. Gaz, Price, and Roach leap to their feet as he motions at them, nearly standing at attention. --

“So,” Simon continues, his annoyed frown slowly morphing as his eyes glint. “Now that we know who the loser is, I get to play my own game. The three of you held up your end of the bargain. Johnny is the first one out, which means I won’t go as hard on you as I should. --

All this time, he’d been meaning to just make this inevitable night a bit more fun, but all he managed to do was leave Simoon out of the fun the rest of them have been having.

He can forget about mercy. --

"This bet was the stupidest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever heard of. /Weeks/ of wasted time just to be the first to fuck me. You all could’ve gotten a taste day fuckin’ /one/”.

He shakes his head, irritation rolling off him. Soap winces. --

the urge to grin. To /hope/.

“I’ve entertained your little game for its entirety,” Simon says, turning to the others. “I let you lot have your fun and play your games and even gave you a treat now and then for indulgin’ my own wishes. --

He scans over each of them, Soap last and for the longest. The Scot does his best to show how sorry he is through his eyes, brow furrowed and lip pouted just enough to where he knows it’s tempting to nip at. Simon’s eyes flick down to it and Soap has to fight back --

“You three seem awfully cheery in front of the man you’ve tortured for /weeks/,” he says, a brow raising at the men on his bed.

Price, Gaz, and Roach all smile sheepishly at him, gloating officially over. Simon cocks his head, clearly analyzing the situation. --

“You’ve keyed us all up too much to keep goin’. You’ll still get to suffer through all of us fuckin’ him open tonight. Don’t you worry”.

“Didn’t think I’d be glad ta hear that,” he sighs in relief. Simon clicks his tongue, and Soap catches him rolling his eyes. --

He could’ve just gotten his mouth on Simon only to not have another taste for another /month/.

“Relax,” Roach grins, gently kicking his knee from where he sat on the corner of the bed by the other two, Simon deciding to stand temptingly close to Soap to stare them all down. --

How could he have been so fucking stupid? He didn’t even think of the fact that this isn’t over. This goddamn bet could continue on for who knows how fucking long. The others could prolong his suffering, hold out longer just to spite him. --

“Easy now,” Price tuts, cuffing him lightly round the head. “Bet’s not over just ‘cause Soap threw in the towel. We’re still in this. We still don’t know who’s goin’ /first/”.

Soap freezes, heart plummeting and spine tingling unpleasantly. /He forgot about them/. --

If they'll take pity on him.

“Got him ready then, for us?” Gaz teases, ruffling Soap’s ‘hawk on his way to sit on Simon’s bed like he owns the damn place. “Great. More time for us to play”.

Guess /that’s/ a no. --

His lips are probably cherry red, his cheeks matching from rubbing so hard between Simon’s hairy cheeks. He wonders if they like it. If they find his desperation arousing. If they’re at least a /little/ disappointed he won’t be joining them for a good while yet. --

“Get the fuck in here,” Simon grunts, stepping aside and letting the other three file in.

Soap doesn’t make eye contact from his position on the floor. He’s sure he’s a pathetic sight- kneeling with an obvious bulge, shirt collar drenched in spit. --