crashingcryptid

[crashingcryptid]

"Brothers" Johnny and Kyle, that are so mean to you. Kyle loved pinching you, squeezing and pushing your plush skin. Heaven forbid he sees your bare chest or sees the outline of your nipples under your shirt. He's groping your breasts, twisting and pulling your nipples between his fingers. He likes hearing you whine in pain, making it up to you by giving you little kisses.

Johnny loves reminding you how strong he is compared to you. Putting you in a headlock while Kyle pinches your nipples or pinning you underneath him so he can rut against your ass. He loves getting rough with you, yanking your panties hard, sticking his saliva coated fingers into your ears, and spanking your ass when he can

Though they know better now than to get too rough with their Dads favorite little girl. If you go to him, sniffling with pretty little tears in your eyes and torn panties from Johnny going a little too hard, they know they'll have their cocks locked.

Doesn't deter them too much though. Anything to tease their little sister.

[crashingcryptid]

possession horror where the thing possessing the autistic character causes them to behave in a more neurotypical way. autistic possession horror where the thing inside you is easier to communicate with than you are, the thing inside you doesn’t have a flat affect, the thing inside you doesn’t let your body stim, the thing inside you is how you were told to behave and you can only do it when you are no longer you. autistic possession horror where you will never forget that everyone liked it better than you before they found out something was controlling you. autistic possession horror where they know what��s inside you isn’t you and debate whether it would be easier for everyone to leave you like this anyway. you agree. reblog.

[crashingcryptid]

This is just *muah*

So I've got this friend whose nervous because she's trans and dating this guy who she hasn't told yet because they've only been on a two dates. For this story let's call the friend Jane and the guy she was dating Jason. Happy ending don't worry.

So I tell Jane to bring her boy over to a bbq I'm having and she can tell him she's trans at my place surrounded by queer and trans people who love her and will support her if he ends up being awful.

She waits till the end of the bbq to tell him the news, by which point the rest of us have learned that Jason is a kind, friendly, empathetic, hard working, dummy. So we sit down, all of us a little worried about this gym bro's reaction when she tells him she's trans, and that she understands if he doesn't want to keep dating her it's no big deal.

He's baffled, so we explain what trans is, and after the disclosure that she hasn't had bottom surgery yet...

"Oh you have a dick?"

"... yeah."

He look's around at the room full of people with baited breath, his clearly a little afraid girl friend says

"Oooohhhh! I get it! You think- don't worry Babe! Watch this!"

And ya'll this man jumps up, runs into the kitchen and returns with one of the bratwurst we had for grilling and proceeds to tilt his head back, put it down his throat, hold it in his mouth for a moment, and spit it up without even a whisper of a gag and then looks around at the group absolutely beaming with pride.

My mans saw his worried girlfriend and her support network and thought to him self "Oh they don't think I can't please my girl, but I'll show them!"

[crashingcryptid]

Two player game

Stalker Simon X Stalker reader :)

Summary: Simon starts stalking you after a few interactions at the coffee shop you work at. Little does he know, he's not the only one watching. Contains: stalking, breaking into/putting cameras around a house, kidnapping?, and drugging

Simon noticed you behind the counter of the coffee shop. You didn't work the front counter. You worked in the back. Apron streaked with flour, face spotted with jam, or chocolate, or even caramel. One time, he'd seen you with an M&M stuck to your forehead. It had left behind bright blue residue when you peeled it off, grinning at him bashfully.

He had to have you.

That's how his routine started, of following your routine. Didn't you know it was dangerous to keep such a strict schedule? That it made his past time that much easier? He knew when you left your home, when you left the bakery, the fact that you got Chinese food on Monday and Mexican food on Friday. And he also knew the inside of your house.

After only two weeks of learning you, he carefully let himself in through the front door. He'd taken his boots off at the door, looking for a long moment at just how right it looked. His big boots settled next to your ratty sneakers.

He started with your bedroom, a little bold, but he knew that the camera was small enough you'd never notice it.

But you noticed him.

You watch, one eye slit just slightly open, tracking his body as it moves carefully through your room. The camera is hidden behind an old teddy bear of yours. If you hadn't watched him place it, you knew that you would've never seen it otherwise... You would've known where to look, though. You slip your eyes shut before he turns around, feeling his sharp eyes tracing over your body.

You fought a smile from slipping onto your face, body practically buzzing with excitement. A man, so bold and so clueless, to believe he was the only stalker in the room.

Now you just needed him to get comfortable.

It didn't take long. Six months since he placed the first camera, and now there were two more scattered throughout your home. And in Simon's mind, you were none the wiser.

Through he was starting to doubt that.

When he put the camera in your living room, you'd spent almost an hour fucking yourself silly with a dildo, legs spread wide facing the camera. The one in the kitchen, hidden on the door frame of your pantry, also got a show. You, in nothing but your apron, bending over with your legs spread just slightly more times than necessary.

There was no way you knew about the cameras, and there was no way you knew about him. The last place he wanted to put up a camera in was your bathroom, but there weren't many good spaces to hide it. He was sure you wouldn't notice a new light switch cover and ordered one to lace with a perfect camera just under where the nail would be.

Letting himself in was easier when he'd found a spare key of yours in a junk drawer. It was silly to leave spare keys around. He'd have to tell you that once you finally got to know him. He admired his boots beside your sneakers, just like he always did, carefully making his way into your bathroom.

He hadn't heard you sneaking around behind him, and he certainly didn't hear you uncapping the needle before you plunged it into the side of his neck. You were fast, injecting him, removing the needle, and getting far away from him quickly.

You must've done that before...

And thats the last thought he has before he hits the floor.

Simon wakes up groggy, heavy, and like his mouth is stuffed full of cotton. He groans, smacking his lips slightly and trying to pull his arms to his sides. They don't budge, and he becomes all too aware that he is bound to a bed.

Your bed.

You lay snuggled on top of him, head resting on his chest as you sleep peacefully. He stares down at you in shock, looking up at his hands. You'd handcuffed him and tied him to the headboard, his heart sinking.

As if sensing his panic, or that he was awake, you stir, raising your head a little and smiling up at him. "Hi there, baby... Don't remember inviting you over last night, but I'm so glad you stopped by."

"Let me go." Simon orders his eyes narrowing as he sets his jaw firm. He had a look that could make grown men tremble, but you just smirk up at him, eyes twinkling.

"You broke into my house. Put cameras in my home. Do you think you're the only person who knows how to learn a routine?" You straddle him, pulling yourself up so you were leaning into his face. "You think I didn't know what you wanted from the moment I talked to you?" You ask, staring him down with an empty, cold gaze.

"You knew?"

"You didn't?"

Simon swallows hard, watching you lean back and sit on his lap, smiling at him. "Your leave isn't over for another week. If I can trust you not to run off, maybe I'll untie you tomorrow. For now, you -" You reach out and poke his nose, that sparkle back in your eyes. "Lay right here while I make you breakfast."

You climb off your bed, leaving the room and giving him a perfect view of you wearing nothing but his shirt. Simon sighs, letting his head drop to the pillow under his head. You'd out done him. For the first time in a while, Simon had gotten caught off guard.

And he'd never felt more in love.

[crashingcryptid]

The first time prices knees crack after kneeling between your thighs and making you scream, you get this splitting grin on your face. The type of grin that tells pricr he will not be living this down.

And ofc you use that one singular moment as an excuse to ride him all the time. Flipping price over when he crawls atop you, pressing a kiss to his temple "dont want you hurting your knees, do we honey? Just let me work." Which, he does entertain for the first few rounds, then flips you over and fucks you until you're begging for a break. "Im not that old just yet, love. Hold still and let me work, okay?"

[crashingcryptid]

Ram hybrid price x reader who can create him new Horns after his accident. Please and thank you 🥰😫

other ram! price stuff: this and this (i didn't know if I should change reader much or anything, so I left this one ambiguous, but idk could still be the same reader) anyway. Watch my make up fake sciencey words

🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ Yes. I agree.

Because Ram Hybrid! Price who lost his horns after all that trauma and who’s carried that loss quietly for years has resigned himself to it, built armor over the grief, moved on in the way soldiers do: by burying it.

And then he meets you.

You, who are brilliant and stubborn and kind in the precise way that makes him damn near uncomfortable. You're a hybrid too, maybe not a ram, maybe not even prey-aligned, but you understand. You're an engineer, in the simplest terms. You build things. Keep shit running. Best of all, you see damage not as something to mourn, but as a blueprint for what comes next.

And one day, after knowing him long enough to earn his trust, after seeing the way he flinches when Gaz offers his horn polish tin, after watching him pretend he doesn't care when others on base stare too long at the bare stubs on his head,

you do something no one else has ever tried.

You make him horns.

He only agrees to come because you asked.

He doesn’t like surprises, but he likes you, in that gruff, stubborn way of a man who’s spent too long trying not to.

So when you lead him into your small workshop, he only grumbles a little.

“What’s this, then?”

You don’t answer right away. Just gesture toward the padded workbench. Something waits there, wrapped in soft cloth. The shape of it is unmistakable.

He goes still.

“…You—"

You shrug, but your fingers a twitching, nervous. “I did. Took some time. Some research. A few casts. Nikolai sent me an old picture— I— I know I didn’t ask, but I figured if you hated them, you’d just headbutt me.”

“That a request?”

“Not unless you think I need it, Sir.”

The corner of his mouth twitches.

You step forward and unwrap the cloth.

They gleam in the light, dark, ridged, and strong. Not exact replicas, these curl a little differently, sleeker, shaped to balance with his posture that's gone so long without them.

They're nothing like the weight replacements they sell in stores. Rams loosing their horns is rare, even in battle, especially since World War 2. So you took your damn time and made them perfect.

They're lightweight carbon and flexible alloy. A custom base he can slide over the old scars. Pressure-mounted and magnetic-secured. They can be removed, adjusted, and reinforced. And polished. You made sure of that.

“I don’t need—” he starts, voice low.

“I know,” you cut in gently. “They’re not for need. They’re for you. For when you just need to... feel it.”

He doesn’t move.

You lift one of the horns and turn it over in your hand. Then offer it out.

“Let me show you?”

His jaw ticks. Then he nods.

You step close, closer than you ever have. His head dips naturally, letting you near the vulnerable scarred spots above his temples. You slowly slide the mount into place.

The horn clicks in. Then the other. Perfectly balanced.

And then he just stands there, breathing like the air’s too thick. Like the world’s gone sideways.

“They’re not… quite the same,” you murmur. “But they’re yours if you want them.”

He lifts a hand. His fingers trace the curve of the horn, slow and careful. He taps it lightly with his knuckles.

They make a solid sound.

He swallows, hand lingering near the curve. Like he can't decide whether to touch them again or hit them harder.

You wait and finally, Price exhales. And when he looks at you, eyes warm, wet, brimming with something raw, you see it. That recognition of self, belonging. Of the boy he was. Of the ram he still is.

He steps forward slowly and presses his forehead to yours.

His voice is soft on the words. "Thank you."

Thanks for readign

[crashingcryptid]

Partners in platonic bonds

Cw: brief mentions of masterbation, nothing descriptive (jerk it is gender neutral, fems can jerk it too >;] )

"Why do you text me when you're coming back from base?" The question caught Simon by surprise, looking over at you as he took his boots off at the door. "I appreciate it, honestly, but I'm just curious. You don't have to if you don't want to." You contine as you shut the loaded dishwasher.

"Well, if you got a partner over or something, I don't want to walk in on you having sex." Simon answers bluntly, which makes you burst into small giggles.

"Oh, I'm single. I don't date or have sex. But if you want to keep texting me before you get home, I don't mind." You explain as your laughter calms down.

"You don't date or fuck? That's a little boring, isn't it?"

"Nah. I love being by myself. And it's nice to hang out with you, too! I'm aromatic asexual." You explain as you continue to cook whatever it is your making.

"What? What does that mean?" Simon asks curiously as he slumps into his seat at the kitchen table. You turn to face him, a look in your eyes that he can't quite put a finger on, but it's gone before he can ask you about it.

"I don't really feel romantically or sexually attracted to anyone. Like, I think you're cute, but I feel that about almost anyone. The only thing that makes people ugly to me is if their bad people." You explain as you turn your attention back to your pan.

"I'm not exactly a sweetheart, Y/N."

"But you're a better man then you give yourself credit for."

Your tone leaves no room for argument, and when the microwave dings, you take out of a bag of minute rice. Simon sits silently after that, watching as you add the rice to the pan. He recognized the smell now as the stir fry you'd been making for the last two months.

"Aren't you sick of stir fry?" He asks as you take down two bowls. You'd stopped asking him if he was hungry after a week of moving in with him. You'd simply make another plate for him, set it down, and there was an understanding that he would always eat it.

"I've had the same routine for 7 years, Si. You're the newest edition to my life, and that was six months ago." You were grinning as you slid the plate across the table to him. "That's enough about me. How was work?" You plop down in your usual seat and dig into your dinner. Simon smiles a little, lifting his mask over his nose to begin eating.

"How did you know you were asexual?"

Your crocheting pauses as Simon asks the question, and you watch as he leans against your door frame.

"Well... I tried hooking up with a guy once. And it wasn't fun. At all. He didn't do anything wrong, and I didn't hate the experience, but the longer we made out, the less I liked it." You explain, shrugging your shoulders a little. "That, and I thought sex wasn't real. Well, outside of reproduction, I mean."

"You thought sex wasn't real?" Simon laughs, not meaning to laugh right in your face, but it was a funny statement.

"Yeah, yeah, yuk it up!" You groan, but you're grinning at him, and Simon knows he didn't take it too far. "I was raised really religious. The sex education didn't exist for me, so I just thought that for every child you wanted to have, you'd have sex that many times. One kid equals one sex." You burst into a small fit of laughter when you say it out loud, and Simon can't help but join.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He says through chuckles, shaking his head. "So you... what never feel horny?"

"Oh, I do! Maybe it's tmi, but I jerk it, like, 3 times a day. Masterbation rules!" You chuckle, getting even louder when you see the look on his face.

"Three times a day?" He mutters in disbelief. He thought Johnny's habit of jerking off first thing in the morning was bad, but you were even worse. "Well, at least you have an outlet for it."

"Why are you asking me?" You ask after a long moment, turning your attention back to the yarn craft in your lap.

"Just curious. Never met someone who doesn't date or fuck before." Simon answers honestly, not missing the way your eyes flick up to study his face. He could see the faintest smirk there, but you just nodded your head in understanding.

"If you have any other questions, you can ask me." You offer, and Simon nods before he walks away. He left your door open how he'd found it and glanced back at the doorway before going to his own room.

Oh, he had questions all right. But he wasn't ready to even ask himself those questions yet, let alone hear your answer. He was worried that you might have opened a door for him. One he couldn't close now that he might've found an answer for how he feels.

"So, are you ever gonna date the roommate you've been living with, or can I give them my number?" Kyle asks one day as they file out of base from a long two weel deployment. "You've been there, what, a year? And you two are strictly platonic still?"

"We're in a partnership." Simon states simply, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "Neither of us date, and we both want someone to spend our time with. It works for me." He continues when he gets slightly confused looks from his two Sargeants.

"So... are they single? Or are you two together?" Johnny asks in confusion, trying to understand the dynamic. "Friends with benefits?" He offers and Simon snorts.

"No. Y/N helped me realize something about myself. And I really like being around them. This leave, they are taking me on a train ride to Pennsylvania for Squankapalooza." Simon explains, simple and to the point, but it didn't truly answer Johnny or Kyle's question.

You pulled your car up into the lot at that moment, parking and stepping half out to wave, and Johnny and Kyle. "Hey there! Let's go, Si! We've got to be at the train station at seven!" You order, and Simon stomps out his remaining smoke and giving the two men a wave.

"I'll bring you both back a trinket." He says, half joking, and heads to the car. "You already packed and ready to go?" He asks as he slides into the passenger seat.

"Yes, except food. We're gonna stop and get a good meal, then grab snacks for the rest of the ride, deal?" You offer, helping him move his suit case to the back seat.

"Yeah, perfect. Rock, paper, scissors to choose?" Simon teases and you give him side eye.

"You always manage to read my mind. We'll just go to the steak house." You chuckle, shaking your head playfully.

"Sounds good. I missed you." He says honestly, taking your hand and giving it a squeeze. You lean over and kiss his cheek, giving him a warm hug.

"Missed you too. I'm glad you're home." You whisper. Simon sighs, drawing you closer and placing a kiss to the top of your head. This is what he'd always longed for. Someone to love, who loved him. Who he could miss, and be missed by. No firm strings of expectations, desires to fulfill and demands of specific affection.

Two people loving without the expectation of sex, of kisses, of hand holding, and nightly cuddles. But two people who loved each other deeply, nonetheless.

[crashingcryptid]

(anon pls) Something something line cook!ghost and hostess!reader

ghost as the line cook who has nicotine stains on his fingers no matter how much he washes them, and somehow thats the first thing you notice when he hands you a plate over the pass through. not the skull on the back of his hand or the mishmash of weaponry and warfare that decorates the rest of his arm —though you should have because the tight roll of his shirt sleeve around his bicep had been for no one's benefit but yours— but the slightly yellowed tips of his thick fingers.

you're new to the waitress game, new to the city too, and if anyone had told you falling for a line cook was a defining moment in every waitress' life you forgot it as soon as you saw Simon Riley's hands. something about them seemed so... suckable.

and then he'd barked at you to watch your plate and you'd nearly spilled the already tipping dish all over your front. you scurried out with your humiliation following quickly behind, and tried to keep from making eye contact the rest of the night.

the other waitresses gossip while you sit rolling silverware, and when you ask about Simon they all give you a knowing look.

"he always has a wrong order if you're hungry," one of them supplies after you insist it's just professional curiosity.

"and he'll walk you to your car if a customer is hanging around," another chimes in.

"stinks like a chimney," a third grumbles, and you press your thighs together thinking about his stained fingers.

it gets easier to interact with the kitchen staff, the cooks are nice enough once you get past the sharp tongues and annoyed tones. the younger guys working the line make kissy noises every time Simon hands you a plate, and you have to listen to the head chef yell at them just to get your table's food. Simon always stays quiet.

he's a quiet guy. at least around you. the bus boy calls you a headcase when you mention it, claims getting the man to shut up is a feat.

"always has some shite joke," he groans, "two legs and bleeds- i nearly killed 'im fer that one."

you consume information about him ravenously, you ask questions sparingly, make observations frequently, and spend as little time as possible actually interacting with the man. you barely know what he looks like, not just because he always seems to be wearing something dark and food safe over the lower half of his face, but because you cant look him in the eye. you're too scared he'll see right down to the core of you, that you'll twitch or blink and he'll know in an instant that you want him in a stupid way.

so, you keep your head down. you listen to the line tease Simon about bullying you. you live on scraps, on the curve of his fingers on the edge of a plate, on the press of his thumb, on the neat blunt trim of his nails, and on imagining the way he would push those fingers into you. you're starting to get a little dizzy whenever you have to grab food.

apparently dizzy enough for one of the other servers to steady you with a concerned look in their eye.

"why dont you go outside and grab some fresh air?" she offers and you nod, swallowing down the guilt that you're not sick just irreparably horny and failing to hide it.

it's only when the scent of tobacco hits you that you realize how unfresh the air behind the restaurant really is. it makes your nose wrinkle, its easy to forget in a fantasy how bad cigarettes smell, but standing between the dumpsters you don't know how you could have forgotten.

you won't forget now, not with Simon attached to the memory.

not with smoke swirling from between parted, scarred lips as he stares you down from across the alley.

"what d'ya need girl?" he asks, his words still smoking and his vocal cords rough with use. the sound of it makes your knees weak. he asks it like you followed him out here, like you came looking for him. as if it wasn't just bad luck that brought you out here with him.

the words die on your tongue, mind working overtime to come up with something to say to a man who you've never said two words to outside a squeaked 'thanks.'

"air," you mutter dumbly. simon hums around his cigarette, the smoldering stick held tight between four fingers as he holds it to his lips. your eyes keep flicking between the skull on the back of his hand and the sunken depths of his eyes, so dark they're almost black. you wonder if that's a trick of the streetlight or if you'd have found the same cursed coloration under the kitchen lights had you ever dared to look up from the offered plates.

"right," he says after a long exhale. he eyes you warily, letting silence lapse between you with a raise of one pale eyebrow. he doesn't believe you.

"i didn't follow you." you watch his lips curl back over his teeth at your hasty attempt to explain yourself.

"didn't say ya did."

"but you were thinking it."

another hum, another burning inhale, the light from his cigarette more potent, more damning than the churn of emotion in your gut. "didn't know ya were psychic too." he exhales. the smoke curls between you. "gonna guess what i'm thinkin' all night?"

"n-no, i-" he jerks his head, nods you closer, and when you don't move he bears his teeth.

"c'mere."

you're quick to comply, a shuddering prey instinct rising in the back of your throat as he seems to consume the alley with his demand. your hands shake, your breath held. you don't move fast enough, and flinch when he reaches to drag you closer.

he grabs your jaw, his thumb forcing its way between your lips to sit between your teeth. he presses down on your tongue until your jaw hurts, but the grip of his other fingers keep you from following the pressure. his thumb tastes like tobacco and soap, and you cant stop yourself from sucking it, dragging your tongue over the thick digit even as your eyes start to sting from the ache.

"you wanna stare, you do it from 'ere." simon warns you, "can't enjoy a cunt that keeps runnin' away from me."

[crashingcryptid]

I have mixed thoughts on sex work. I love sex, but I hate work!

[crashingcryptid]

Suck on this

Summary: You are trying to quit vaping, but it's harder than you imagined. Thankfully, your lovely partners have a unique idea of how else they can occupy your mouth.

"I need a vape." You groan, burying your face in your hands. "I just need something to suck on! It was so nice having something to put in my mouth." You lamment, looking up to Kyle and Johnny for support. "Why are you smiling!? This is a serious matter!"

"Aye, Bonnie, it is. Why don't you come here." Johnny leans back in his seat on the couch and pats his lap. You blush a little but walk around the coffee table to sit in his lap. "That's it, doll. Open." Johnny orders, tapping your lower lip with his thumb.

Obediently, your mouth pops open, only for Johnny to shove two fingers deep inside. You gag slightly at the intrusion. When you try to pull away, Kyle keeps you still with a hand on the back of your neck. You try to mumble around the fingers but only succeed in drooling all over your chin.

"Suck. You wanted something in your mouth so bad, now you have it." Kyle whispers on your ear, squeezing your neck slightly. You whimper, wrapping your lips around Johnny's fingers and sucking softly. "That's it, love. So much better than nicotine, huh?" You gag on his fingers, eyes watering slightly which makes your eyes tear up.

"Aww, look! Their crying with gratitude!" Kyle chuckles, slipping his hand underneath your waistband. "Let's help distract you from the craving a little more, huh?" You whine a little, but go limp in their arms within seconds, accepting your fate. You couldn't think about your cravings like this, letting your eyes fall shut.

"The next time you need a vape, you can always suck my cock... I'm sure that tastes even better than this." Kyle whispers, carefully toying with you, working you up painfully slow. "How's that sound, sweetheart?"

"Mmhmm." You hum, gagging again when Johnny thrusts his fingers deeper into your throat.

"Pay attention, Bonnie." He huffs, wanting all attention on him. Kyle chuckles behind you, and Johnny's eyes glint with competitive spirit. It wasn't just about satisfying your craving anymore. You were going to be here for a while.

[crashingcryptid]

John price with a very untraditional, out spoken partner

John Price wasn't a man strict to tradition. He understood it, liked the routine of it, and was sure he'd find a lover that fell into those traditional roles. That was until you came along.

Loud, opinionated, full of ideas, of knowledge, and skill. A whirlwind of a person, and John happily go carried away in your storm.

"What would you like for our wedding?" Price looks down at where you rest on his shoulders, wide eyes seeking up at him.

"I want to get married in the spring. It's not too hot. It's not too cold. And I want to have my men by my side." He answers honestly. "What are you thinkin?"

"I want to walk down the aisle with you. I feel like it would show us walking into this stage of our life together." You sigh wistfully, smiling wide. "And I want food trucks instead of a catering company."

"Food trucks?? What about cake? And the bar?" Price asks, faking outrage which made you burst into laughter. "You expect me to have a wedding with no cake?"

"We can have cake! And a coffee bar!" You gasp, sitting up in bed. "Oh, we should start planning right now!"

"It's 11 at night, love. Why don't you -"

"I'm not waiting!" You snatch a notebook off the nightstand and turn on your reading light, beginning to write down the ideas you just had. "You know I'll forget by the morning."

"If you say so, baby." He wraps his arms around your waist, leaning you back on his chest so he can watch your write over your shoulder. "We should have a chocolate fountain."

"God, I love you."

[crashingcryptid]

Thank you, rommy. And also thank you for the tags. I really appreciate your asexual/aromatic characters

Love your healer!reader series, but I want to point out that ace people can enjoy sex! Maybe reader is one of them?

The first time ghost hears someone say it, hes stunned.

Some sergeant from a different team, hes leaning against the bar you and ghost are sat in. A small party of various people from the op are here, celebration for a clean job after weeks of crawling through dirt and grime.

Ghost vaguely remembers him, he was decent enough in the field. A good guy for radio chatter between the gunfire. He also seems completely oblivious to any social cues thrown his way, and thats saying something coming from ghost.

A tight lipped hum or indifference when he flirts, a lean back for every inch of space he leans forward. Its obvious hes trying to get in your pants, and its even more obvious that you are not interested. He makes another bold move that has ghost standing up, but youre faster.

Gripping the hand that was just on your thigh in a tight grip, a dissapointed frown on your face "look, dude, im asexual. Im not interested, okay?"

And he just laughs. As if the word asexual means nothing to him. "Sure, but i know plenty of aces that have sex! Hell, some of them even enjoy it! Cmon, im sure we can work something out?"

Any respect ghost had to the soldier is now crushed, because youre frowning like this is an old wound often agitated. Ghost would love to see the guy get his shit rocked by you, but he also would prefer not to have paperwork in the mornings. With a grunt, hes grabbing your hand and leading you out of the bar without so much as a glance to the soldier.

Ghost doesnt say anything for a while, more upset that you are by the comment. Youve been dealing with this your whole life, hes sure, but it hurts to think people would just dismiss your own words like that. As if they knew you better than you did.

Finally, while ghost is stopped at a red light, he speaks "im sorry you have to deal with that."

A noncommittal hum.

"And..." he pauses for a second, choosing the right words because he knows how this can feel, even if his experience is different. "...none of us are waiting for you to change your mind. We're happy as is, yknow? Just uh- just in case you were worried."

"I wasnt." Is your automatic reply, but your next breath feels lighter. Its nice, with the 141. They dont pressure you to do anything. Every word is taken at face value, they dont question your desires or lack thereof.

Its a trust you haven't felt in a long time, but it feels like coming home whenever youre with them.

[crashingcryptid]

Which hybrids give the worst wedgies and why is it totally elephants?

Oooh, I see what your saying, but I raise you any Horned or Winged hybrids can be just as bad if not worse.

The elephants absolutely have patience and strength to bounce you around, carry you around, sling you over their shoulders, and all types of bully treatments. Elephant hybrids are probably strong enough to one arm curl a nerd by their underwear in a causal conversion.

But if you think about something like a moose hybrid, they could hang multiple nerds on their gigantic antlers and parade them around!

Also, any winged hybrids could absolutely hover above ground and fly you around by just your underwear. Just imagine hearing the flap of wings, and then talons grabbing the back of your wristband, soaring you around. (Not too high. No bully wants to seriously injure their favorite nerd after all.

I definitely don't want to be on the receiving end of an elephant hybrid wedgie, but the fact that I've never written hybrid wedgies..... you've got me thinking now Anon

[crashingcryptid]

sorry if you’ve already been asked this , are you going to continue with raised by wolves ? think that’s my favorite work of yours !

I'm so glad you like that series! I am definitely going to continue it and have a chapter that I'm working on right now. I'm so glad people enjoy my writing, and please feel free to leave an ask of suggestions you want to see!

ALSO this is the time I'll say MY ASK BOX IS OPEEEEEN Always open for anything and everything you wanna ask, or you like or wanna read more of or your own ideas! My ask box is WIDE OPEN please send em in NOOOOOW

[crashingcryptid]

SIT HIS ASS DOWN. 🙂‍↕️😤

or: Price getting forcibly and affectionately taken care of. woohoo!

Price Appreciation Week Day 2! Poly 141 & Bottom Price

CW: 18+ Smut, nsfw. blow job.

Price had every intention of brushing them off. A captain’s place was on his feet, in motion, and always ready. Sitting still and letting them fuss wasn’t in him.

But the lovely bastards had other plans.

Soap, sliding in bold as ever, plucked the cigar right out from between Price’s teeth. “Oi, no more of this, aye? We’re indoors.” He set it neatly on the ash tray.

Price scowled, reaching for it back, but Gaz slipped in at his side and nudged him toward the couch. “Sit a while, Cap. Just once.” His hand was warm on Price’s arm, guiding him down.

Price set his jaw. “I’ll stand, thanks.”

And then Ghost. Bloody immovable Ghost, planted in the hallway like a wall, arms crossed and head tilted. “Sit your ass down, Jonathan."

Price’s hackles went up, eyebrows furrowed in challenge. “No.”

There were three hungry sets of eyes on him, though. Three against one.

They closed in together, shepherding him with a hand at his elbow. A nudge at his back. And damn all three of them, because Price found himself lowered into the couch cushions like some old hound being forced to rest his bones.

He bristled again, but Gaz was already behind him, fingers pressing into a knot at his shoulder. Soap slid into his lap like he belonged there, smirking, daring him to shove him off. Ghost dropped onto the cushion next to him, solid as a wall, arms wrapping around Price’s ribs to keep him in place.

“Look at that,” Soap murmured, almost giddy. “Our great Captain Price, finally sittin’ still.”

Price grunted, ready to push them all off, but then Ghost’s chest was right at his back, steady and warm, and a calloused hand settled flat against his sternum.

Price’s breath caught, and some short, startled, quiet little sound escaped him.

Soap’s eyes lit. “He eeped.”

Price groaned, heat rushing up the back of his neck. “Don’t—”

"You're stayin’ now, Price."

Gaz chuckled softly, thumbs working the stubborn line of muscle near Price’s neck. “Relax, Cap.”

So. Price told himself it was temporary. It was just a moment’s peace before he stood again, shook them off, reclaimed his ground. But the bastards were crafty.

Gaz’s thumbs worked slow circles into the thick line of muscle beneath his collar. Each press found the tension buried deep, rolling it loose.

“There we go,” he murmured, like talking down a spooked horse. “You didn't even realize how tight you were, did you?”

Price grunted something noncommittal.

Soap noticed the way his shoulders sagged. “Aye, there it is. You like it.” His grin was bright and boyish and far too knowing. One hand settled casually on the inside of Price’s thigh, fingers drumming an idle beat just high enough to make the Captain twitch.

“Off,” Price muttered, trying to nudge him away.

Soap only leaned heavier, tilting to breathe on Price's shoulder. “Make me.”

Price huffed.

With his arms still wrapped around him, Ghost gave a little press. That wide palm flat across his chest, the faint pressure keeping him still.

“Don’t fight it,” Simon’s voice rumbled low in his ear. “You’ll lose.”

A flare of heat licked through Price’s belly. He opened his mouth, ready to argue, but then Gaz’s knuckles pressed deliberately into a knot, making him groan.

“There’s a sound worth keeping,” Gaz teased softly.

Soap’s grin widened, fingers slipping a fraction higher on his thigh. “Bet he’s full of ‘em, if we keep pushin’.”

Price’s breath hitched. He hated how obvious it was. Hated more how Ghost’s hand shifted with it, feeling the movement of his chest. The bastard hummed approval, low and dark, vibrating right against the back of Price’s neck.

He tried to shift away, but Ghost’s arms tightened fractionally, caging him in. Soap’s hand lingered warm and steady. Gaz pressed another knot until Price’s head tipped back against Ghost’s shoulder.

Three against one.

Gaz leaned close, tilting his chin with a gentle hand, guiding Price’s eyes toward his own.

“Don’t fight us, Cap,” he murmured, warm breath brushing his beard. “We only want to take care of you.”

Price’s throat worked. He meant to reply, but Gaz’s mouth was already on his, soft and slow. Coaxing out the last of his restraint.

He groaned against it, low and rough, fingers twitching where they clutched at Ghost’s wrist.

And that was all Soap needed. “Knew it,” he crowed.

His hand slid higher along Price’s thigh, thumb brushing the hard line of muscle far too close to where Price was already starting to thicken with heat.

Price broke the kiss with a sharp inhale. “Enough—”

“Not nearly,” Soap cut him off, eyes glittering. He nosed at the Captain’s throat, teeth grazing, all mischief and intent. “We’ve barely started.”

Behind him, Ghost’s arms cinched tighter against that broad chest. His voice rumbled low, “Relax.”

Price, bloody traitor that his body was, obeyed. His muscles loosened, his head tipping back against Ghost’s shoulder, baring his throat as Soap licked into the hollow.

He startled again when Gaz’s hand left his jaw, only to find it sliding lower, over his chest, over his hand where it hand been gripping Ghost's wrists, dragging across his belly until it rested firm just above his belt.

“About time,” Soap muttered, fingers pressing daringly close to Price’s growing hardness.

Price groaned, mouth closing too late to stop it. Ghost’s chin lowered until the rough edge of his mask brushed Price’s temple.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “We’ve got you.”

And now that the fight had left him, the rest was easy. Too easy.

Soap slid lower, off Price's lap to kneel on the floor, grin turned reverent as he tugged Price’s belt open, knuckles brushing firm against his cock through his briefs.

“Fuckin’ hell, Jonathan,” he whispered, hungry and fond all at once.

Price groaned, head tipping back hard against Ghost’s shoulder, his breath stuttering. “Christ—”

“Shhh,” Gaz soothed, leaning in to steal another kiss, catching the sound in his own mouth. His fingers stroked through the hair at Price’s temple, the other pressing against his hand braced on the cushion.

Ghost’s arms were a cage and a cradle all at once, one hand spread across his chest, the other splayed low on his belly to hold him steady as Soap tugged his briefs down. Price shifted helplessly, cock springing free, flushed and aching in the open air.

“Beautiful,” Soap murmured, licking his lips before taking him down.

Price choked on a gasp, hips jerking, but Ghost’s hold was iron. “Easy,” Simon growled low, pinning him back.

The wet heat of Soap’s mouth was unbearable, slick and greedy and worshipful. He hummed like he was savoring a sweet, and Price’s fingers dug into Ghost’s wrist, grip trembling as he tried to keep his composure.

Gaz broke another kiss just long enough to murmur against his beard, “That’s it, Captain. Let us look after you.” Then his lips found Price’s again, swallowing each ragged sound that slipped free.

Price couldn’t help it, the helpless noises tore from his chest, whimpers caught between Gaz’s kisses, muffled against Ghost’s steady rumble, “Good man. That’s it."

Soap bobbed lower, one hand curled firm around the base, the other pressing into Price’s thigh to keep him open. Every slick pull dragged a strangled sound out of him until his body was shaking in their grip.

“Fuck—” Price gasped, voice breaking.

“Go on,” Ghost said. “We’ve got you.”

Soap moaned around him at the same time Gaz deepened the kiss, and Price shattered. His body arched, every sound ripped free as he spilled hot and helpless down Soap’s throat.

Soap swallowed greedily, drawing it out until Price slumped limp in Ghost’s arms, trembling and spent.

Price didn’t scramble to stand or push them away. He let himself sag, head against Simon’s chest, Gaz still kissing the corner of his mouth while Soap crawled back up, smug and glowing, to press a sticky kiss against his jaw.

“Good man,” Ghost murmured, hand rubbing slow circles over Price’s sternum. “Knew you just needed to be sat down.”

Price huffed weakly, “Bloody insubordinate…”

But his voice was soft, and when Soap flopped across his lap again and Gaz tucked in against his side, he didn’t move them, he just sighed deep, held tight in Simon’s arms.

And Jonathan Price stayed sat right there.

thanks for reading

*stares in I am my own worst critic* guys wtf is this shit. omg. n e way. Woooo for price appreciation week. fuck it we ball. yeehaw *hit post*

[crashingcryptid]

BTW this is how Price will feel about dragon hybrid reader. This his gigantic child that looks nothing like him and don't you DARE say other wise.

[crashingcryptid]

Itsy bitsy stow away- part 5

Summary: You learn about why you've earned the callsign Bitsy and begin to actually bond with your team. It's out of your comfort zone talking too and being around the team, but you find that you enjoy their company. Even better, they enjoy your presence, though they grow concerned when they learn it's time for you to molt.

"Why Bitsy?"

"Huh?" Ghosts' ears swivel up toward the ceiling before his head does, smiling a little as you lower yourself down to him. "Why Bitsy? What do you mean?"

"Well, I know you all have Call signs... Except Price. Bitsy, that's mine?" Simon nods in agreement. "Why did you guys choose that one?"

"Well... Itsy bitsy spider. You're small, but that's an advantage that you know how to use well." He explains matter of fact, a little grin lifting the corners of his mouth. "That, and you take little bitsy bites of your food."

"You try eating with fangs!" You shoot back, slightly indignant, but you can't help but click said fangs in laughter. "I guess that makes sense, though." You look down at the guns and weapons he's cleaning and tilt your head. "Am I bothering you? You look busy."

"Talking to me doesn't take up my hands, Y/N. I can chat with you." Simon states mater of fact as he goes back to disassembling the weapon.

"You want to?" You prod a little. You hadn't had many people be comfortable in your presence. Your appearance, your venom, and your silent movements threw people off. Having someone actually want to spend time with you to talk, that was new.

"Yeah. Where do you hang out most days? When we're going about our routines, you're never spotted." Ghost asks, and you grin a little as you settle into your upside-down position to chat.

"Hey! Y/N, are you up there?" Johnny calls up to your shelf in the broom closet, expecting to see you in your nest.

"No." Johnny jumps a little and turns to see you in the hallway. "Sorry, I could hear something stuck in my webs."

"Did you eat it?"

"No." You scrunch your nose and shake your head slightly. "I'm tired. Do you need something?" You ask as you make your way into the closet and too your nest.

"You okay? You've been sleeping a bit more lately. Did hanging out with Simon to take out all your energy?" Johnny jokes as he watches you settle in the nest. You click your fangs together sleepily, looking down at him.

"No... I don't think so? I'm sorry, I'm tired." You mutter sleepily, two of your four eyes shutting. "Can you wake me up for dinner? Price says he's got some mushrooms for me." Johnny smiles a little at you, and nods his head before he leaves the broom closet.

"I think Y/N is going to lay eggs soon." Kyle notes when Johnny finds him. "They've been moving slower, spending more time with us, and their webs are full of bugs but they aren't eating." He continues, counting down the reasons he's concerned about you.

"If they do, what are we going to do to help? Can we do anything?" Johmmy asks as he settles at the table beside Kyle.

"I don't know. I could be wrong, but I also don't want to ask them. Feels akward." Kyle sighs, shrugging his shoulders and looking up at Simon when he comes into the kitchen. "Si, has Y/N mentioned anything about laying eggs? They've been acting strange."

"They aren't laying eggs. They are going to molt soon. Probably by tonight." Simon says matter of fact as he grabs the kettle to fill with water.

"Molting!?" Kyle and Johnny exclaim at the same time, sitting straight up in their chairs. "I didn't know they could molt... Maybe we should bring them dinner tonight." Johnny says, wondering what molting meant for you.

"Well if they start tonight, they won't come out of their nest for at least two days. Takes a while for their bodies to feel better." Simon explains. "They started getting kind of confused when we were chatting earlier. Kept asking me to get them for dinner, or wake them up for training tomorrow. I think they are already tired and ready to molt."

"Well... We should keep an eye on them. Make sure they know that we care and can help if anything goes wrong." Kyle suggests and both men nod in agreement. They had to look after their itsy bitsy spider.

Your legs shake and twitch as they free themselves from the molt, whining in pain as you try to pull the rest of the loose skin off. Your abdomen and legs were soft, this was the most vunerable state you could be in, and it scared you.

The human upper part of your body felt just as weak as the rest of your body, though thankfully that part of you didn't molt. You shudder in your webs, laying your head down on them and whimpering softly in pain.

Molting is deeply uncomfotable at any stage. Itchy and claustaphobic, even as the molt finally started to fall off of your body. It came off mostly in one peice, but that made it even harder to remove.

A knock at the broom closet startles you slightly, a small ripple of panic shooting through you until you hear Kyle's voice. "Y/N? Are you doing okay?" He slowly cracks the door open and steps inside. "Do you need some help?"

"No! No don't touch me!" You cry out in defense. Knowing that you can't evem skitter back or up the wall fast enough makes you nervous. Kyle holds up his hands and stays by the door.

"Hey, I'll stay right here. I am not gonna touch you unless you really want help." He assures you softly, watching as you settle down and lay your head on your web again. "Can I get you anything? Some water or food?"

"No... I don't wanna eat right now." You sigh weakly, finally gathering up the stregth to pull the rest of your molt off of your body. Kyle watches in facination as your limbs tremble, clearly weaker and softer than they normally are. He can understand now why you didn't want him to close.

"How long does it take for you to feel back to normal? I just want to keep an eye on you." Kyle prods gently as he watches you settle down in your web.

"Two days if I'm lucky. Maybe three? That's why I kept hanging out with you all. I knew I'd be here for a while." You explain, eyes still shut. "I'm okay with you checking on me. You guys feel safe. But don't get too close, please."

"I won't. We won't, I promise." Kyle assures and he's thankful when he see's a little smile stretch your face. "I'll leave you to molting, okay? I'll check on you in the morning." And with that, he leaves the broom closet to let you rest.

You sigh quietly, settling your squishy, twitching body in your webs. At least you knew you had a whole team, just outside the door to protect you. That made you feel less anxious, finally able to fall asleep and let your body heal.

Spider molting!!! I really wanted to include this as well as egg laying, which I think I'll include in another chapter. Anyways, it probably isn't completely scientifically accurate, but we are talking about human animal hybrids. SO, WHO CARES FOR REALITY HERE??? Certainly not Mr.

@big-stretch @skz-goose @skullcrawler @bbmgirll @snowfire0313 @silas-aeiou @lobotomy-v1ct1m @bluefans-blog