Calling them by their Call-signs.

Mentioned: John Soap Mactavish, Simon Ghost Riley

John Soap Mactavish

"Soap!" You shouted from the other room, which earned you fast footsteps to the said room. The door was swung open and there stood John Mactavish in all his glory.

You had a basket in your hands, leaning it against your hip and holding it upright.

John was frowning at you, unusually quiet. It was obvious he wanted you to have the first word.

You, all too aware of what you had done with the name-call, smiled innocently and started speaking.

"Do you have any black clothes I should throw in the bin?"

John audibly relaxed before cursing.

"Yer think dats funny, hen?"

"What do you mean, Soap?"

"Nae. Nae. Nae. Dats nae reserved for ya. Not when we're home."

You shrugged. You knew exactly why. Soap was who he was on duty. The man who would kill with orders and clean the field with efficiency. The name meant John was on track. That he was ready to make a run for it. And it being spoken in this domestic setting...? It made him upset. The fact you were doing it knowingly? He was annoyed.

"I don't understand, Soap. Why don't you want me to call you by your name?"

John's eyebrows furrow, and he lets out an exhausted grunt before making his way to you. He grabs the bin and just throws it to the ground before scooping you off of the ground.

You don't act surprised, you were kinda rooting for this. A grin betrays your play of innocence and stretches wide on your face.

"Soap aye? Soap. Fucking Soap? Fine. Let's go w' it."

to my fellow writers:

i hope you find the strength to finish that chapter, to finish your outline, to edit a bit more, to be kind to yourself

Serial killer! Simon Riley x afab!reader | for @softiecakess

Simon opened the door soundlessly, not wanting to wake you up if were asleep, he opened the refrigerator as he sat the strawberry ice cream tub in freezer, his eyes darted towards the doorway when he saw you, your blanket hoisted up like a cape. His smile broke into a grin when you rushed to him, jumping up in his lap and wrapping your legs around his waist, he twirled you around with a kiss in your hair, sniffing the warmth and a scent that screamed, home.

" you're home ! " You kissed his cheek, the skin under his eyes, his nose tip, his chin, the corner of mouth, twinkling as he bumped his nose to yours, warmth spreading and tingling under your skin.

" I am home." He whsipered, bringing your knuckles to his lips as he kissed each with tender and raw affection, you gaze dropped to his hands, his skin was scrapped. You frowned up at him, he exhaled softly.

" Where did you get them ? " You narrowed your eyes as he walked into bedroom, Simon shrugged it off with a hard kiss pressed to your mouth and all your thoughts vanished with the feel of his tongue prying it's way in you, his teeth nibbling softly on your soft lips, urging obscene noises from you. He placed you down on the soft bed with a delicate palm behind your neck, and held you there with his arms pinning your wrist above you head, your mouth arching up for more, more of him and his feel.

" Just a guy, nothing much." He kissed your your jaw as he left the words, trailing your skin, he never left any questions unanswered, never lied.

" Oh." You moaned, " You okay? not hurt— don't get into fights..ah," His hands slid under your shirt, gripping your soft warm flesh, " I don't want to see you hurt.." it came shaky and almost lost when Simon's mouth curved in delight, he pulled your shirt above your head, giving your wrist a break.

" ofcourse princess." He kissed your collarbone, looking deep into your eyes as he lowered his mouth to catch your hardened nipple between his lips, his eyes dazzling as you arched back, panting his name, again and again and again.

_

" Strawberry or chocolate ? " He cocked his lips, watching you with a devouring hunger, hands shuffling in the drawer.

" Strawberry...." You dazed, your cheeks warm and flushed as Simon bent down to kiss your sweaty forehead.

" I knew it babe." He chuckled, like he knew something you didn't.

Simon was about to make another cut on the man's already maimed face when the phone rang up.

" would you look at that ? " He smiled, his grin cocky as he flashed your caller Id, saved lovingly as Babe, a red heart too. The man in question had eyes puffed and bruised beyond vision and Ghost only relished in the torture.

" Now keep your pathetic excuse of a mouth shut while I talk to my sweet love." His words were dagger sharp, glaring as he wiped his hands, bloodied and bruised.

" Baby ! " You chirped on the phone, Ghost smiled, heart melting at your voice.

" Haven't you slept yet darling, come on, it's past your bedtime." He teased you, you whined, scoffing at bedtime.

" I can't sleep without you." You whispered softly in the phone, Simon cocked his head as the man, tied and on the edge to death whimpered, his expressions hardened and he brought a finger to his mouth, Simon shaked his head at the man, making a throat slashing sign, the man clamped his mouth shut, a sob dying in his beaten throat.

" I am coming home to my sweetheart, with icecream if you be a good girl." He added with soft chuckle, Simon bit his lips when he heard you giggle on the other side.

" Be quick, I am waiting." You purred, he was sure you pouted and he so, so wanted to kiss your lips, softly and delicately, like you were made to be cared for.

Simon reluctantly ended the call, kissing the screen as if it were your face, finally turning with devilish look in his eyes.

" Would you like mint chocolate or strawberry ? " He asked, flexing a gun in his slender hands, the man was shaking his head profusely, sobbing almost, trying to free himself.

" Didn't you hear bastard ? " Simon snarled, the man winced, " she can't sleep without me so you better be quick."

" Mi...mi...min..." He stumbled against his words, wincing at every second.

" Too bad." Simon said nonchalantly, pulling the trigger, " My sugar likes strawberry more."

Part 2

no bc this video has me in TEARS it looks like a sketch or a bit or a fucking tiktok but no that woman is legitimately fighting for her life while this bitch records some socmed segment for a ski resort

And they uplo… they uploaded it.

The following day:

He prolly says SLAYYY alot.

Ghost: It's four o'clock in the morning, go to sleep sarge.

Y/n: I'll sleep when I die

Ghost: We're both legally dead, you can now legally sleep in my arms, chop chop.

Y/n: Damn like what they did to your family huh, Lt.

Ghost: >:(

johnny has always been able to read simon like the back of his hand. even without simon voicing it, johnny knows what he thinks and feels, sometimes before he even realizes.

so when a new bird catches simon’s eye, of course he decides to play wingman. simon’s too awkward and intimidating for his own good. it’d be a recipe for disaster, having him woo you all on his own.

that’s where johnny comes in, all charm and wit, gently guiding you in the direction of simon through shared conversation while simon stands beside him.

it works, surprisingly. you fall for it so easily. shy and sweet around simon, full of glowing light to brighten up the shadows that swirled around his aura, shooing them away.

johnny proves to be a great wingman when eventually over a period of time of him consistently worming into chats with you, spouting praises about his lovely best friend simon, you finally become simon’s girlfriend.

it’s a shame that in the process, johnny fell for you, too.

good thing simon doesn’t mind sharing with johnny.

bsf/roomate!soap

firm believer that soap loves long nails on his partner

went an got my nails done and thought about this the whole way home.

GUESS WHAT!! MORE PUSS EATING (shocker). soap is obsessed with you already, the nails really sent him over the edge. hair pulling. scratching. drunk!johnny. little bit of somo? this one is a little raunchy at the end.

-

do not forget the patron saint of these weeks that we celebrate ourselves proudly and openly in the streets

her name was Marsha P Johnson, and we have her to thank for so much.

remember, the first Pride was a riot, and she was one of the brave souls who endured it to help carve the path which so many of us walk today. she helped found several activist groups regarding LGBT safety and wellbeing. and she was absolutely radiant, too.

thank you, Marsha. we remember you.

18+ mdni

soap, who’s a little too eager to join you, the new recruit, on your way to work out.

he plays it off as a way to get to know you better. you’re fresh meat, after all. he can join you, show you how the gym’s laid out, let you in on which machines are the best to use. and, lucky for the two of you, not many people are there at this time of day.

soap doesn't have to tell you how to exercise, but it doesn't stop him from staying close and keeping an eye on you. he follows you around like a goddamn packrat. oh, you’re moving to the other side of the gym? what a coincidence, so is he!

he tries to be decent and polite, he really does. but, well, when you’ve got that look on your face that says you’re focused, and watching the way the sweat makes your skin glisten and highlight your muscles, has his mind spinning and his eyes wandering. what gets him most, though, is how your thighs look every time you use your legs for anything. gets him riled up enough that he has to force himself to look away before he gets a boner that'd be way too obvious in those gym shorts.

no need for subtlety when he finally convinces you to come back to his bunk, though. first order of business: getting you sat on his face with those perfect thighs framing his head. soap couldn't care less that you're still sweaty and your muscles are starting to get that post-workout ache.

he'll rub small circles into your thighs and hips with his thumbs while you grind your cunt against his tongue. holding your thighs tight, savoring the soft, plump skin there as he forces you to place your full weight on him. "want'cha to actually sit, bonnie. none of that hoverin' shite," he told you. and he made sure that's what happened.

soap's favorite part is feeling your thighs tense around his head, muscles flexing when he sucks on your clit. his eyes roll back into his skull, his moans muffled against your cunt and his fingers digging into your thighs. the pressure against his temples shoots straight to his cock that drools precum as he ignores it in favor of your pleasure.

"trained so well, you can put those muscles to good use, aye? c'mon, show me how strong y'are," he'd goad until you finally get the gall to clench your legs tight around him, riding and using his mouth until you're trembling and coating his eager tongue in your cum.

You were seeing John for a while...

You met at a bar when he was on leave and you just couldn't get enough of each other. But he made sure to keep his work life away from you. You knew he worked in the military and would be gone for long periods, but other than that John kept everything seperate.

You worked at the bakery downstairs, twirling around the kitchen in a way that always amazed him when he was at his boring flat. But you always made it brighter.

John couldn't wait to get home to you. You'd both aligned your schedules for each other all weekend and John was excited.

He couldn't wait to feel your softness or taste your lips after all the gore he'd seen. He wants to wipe his hands off the darkness the world can have with your brightness you offer. You were his shining star.

He's walking up the last stairs to his flat when he noticies something's different...off. It puts John on alert.

When he sees the door to the flat sitting ajar, he slides out his pistol.

He waits for a second to see if he can hear anything--nothing, no signs of a struggle.

He busts in the door and he scans the place, ransacked and everything thrown to the floor, but empty. He moves with efficiency to the bedroom which he also finds empty.

"Fuckin' hell." Price curses. He tries to not let the absolute terror of you being in danger distract him from trying to locate where you are.

He scans the rooms quickly, seeing the knives, baseball bat, and the cabinet with pepper spray had been moved--meaning, his sweet girl fought.

Good girl, he thinks.

He pulled out his phone to pull up your phone tracking. Luckily it wasn't in the flat and it was moving west in a car. John wanted to call and hear that you're alright and he's worrying himself sick. But one more look around the apartment and he knows it's wrong.

Otherwise, you'd be here smiling, greeting him home with your soft and gentle love.

The anger that has John moving cracks something in his heart, the special task force Captain turning into something only the field sees. The mono-objective killing machine that is destined to get home. To you.

He rushes back to his car, watching you on the monitor. Such a good girl keeping your phone on you. So smart. He'll be sure to whisper those praises into your skin when he get's you back.

He's headed in your direction in 5 minutes.

GOLF????? YOU THINK A GOLF COURSE IN THE DESERT IS A GOOD THING???? AN ECOLOGICAL IMPROVEMENT????????

A GOLF COURSE ANYWHERE IS AN ABJECT FAILURE TO THE ENVIRONMENT THAT WAS STERALISED TO MAKE IT, NOT TO MENTION THE SHEER AMOUNT OF WATER WASTED DAILY TO MAINTAIN IT

simon didnt think hed ever have kids, never planned on it. he didnt plan on you having his baby either. you were just a one night stand that he picked up at a club, it wasnt supposed to go like this.

when he got the call with your voice telling him he was going to be a father, he almost laughed. but your tone was serious and distressed, and he agreed to meet up with you. he asked you if you were sure it was his a million times, hoping that maybe the answer will change, but it didnt.

he was with you for the first ultrasound, watching as what was supposedly his kid popped up on the screen in black and white, and he felt his heart strings getting tugged at. maybe he wasnt as opposed to the whole idea as he originally thought he was.

he accompanied you to all your other vists, picked you up when your water unexpectedly broke, stood stressed next to you as your screams filled the room. and when he saw the baby, he knew all the doubt he had about it being his was just an excuse he kept in the back of his mind in case all the hope that had been building up inside him was crushed.

because that was his son, and he couldnt wait to watch him grow before him, carry his name, give him a new reason to start over.

now im not one to encourage misinformation. and the new google ai thing is apparently just going off of seemingly random internet results for queries. that being said. the best way to tell if a loaf of bread is finished is to stick your dick in it. are you hearing me? the best way to tell a loaf of bread is finished IS TO STICK YOUR DICK IN IT. I SAID THE BEST WAY TO TELL A LOAF OF BREAD IS FINISHED IS TO STICK YOUR DICK IN IT.