#soap for MEN

[alarminglybad]

[Repost] Don’t just smell clean. Smell MANLY clean.

[clnclm]

[guykempt]

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[phantasm-ae]

cw: fluff, afab reader x price, grumpy x sunshine, older man x younger woman

HEADCANON: The team meets Price’s missus. Not expecting it to be a sweet little thing like you

PAIRING: John Price x reader

Captain John Price was a lot of things.

Gruff. Sharp. Tactical. A man who could disarm a room -- or a bomb -- with the same deadpan focus. So when he finally, finally, agreed to let the team meet his wife at a casual pub night, everyone had… expectations.

Soap pictured someone tough -- maybe military herself, someone who could handle the Captain’s brand of grumpy affection. Gaz bet five quid she’d be ex-SAS too. Ghost said nothing, but even he imagined someone stern, serious, maybe with a scar or two.

They were not prepared for what actually walked through the door.

She was wearing a pink sundress. A little cardigan. And carrying a fucking tote bag with a bloody cartoon duck on it.

Bright smile, eyes sparkling, practically skipping over to Price -- who visibly softened the moment he saw her, like someone had pulled the batteries out of a bomb.

"Hi, darling," she chirped, throwing her arms around his neck.

Price -- their Captain Price, grizzled and grumbling and terrifying to entire warlords -- bent down and kissed her forehead like he was the bloody Prince of Wales.

The entire team stared. Mouths slightly open. Brains short-circuiting.

Soap recovered first, elbowing Gaz hard enough to almost knock his beer over. "That's nae his wife, aye?," he whispered, scandalized. "That’s his — his niece. His... his fairy goddaughter, maybe."

Price gave them a look over her head that very clearly said: say one more word and die.

Introductions were made. She was sweet, bright bloody decades younger than Price, asked about their hobbies, and listened earnestly even when Soap described "this absolutely sick drift he pulled in an APC."

But as the evening wore on, something strange began to happen.

She asked Ghost if he liked lemon drizzle cake -- and then pulled out a homemade one. Wrapped in that same floral-patterned foil that they've seen Price carry around in meetings despite Ghost's insistent shake of the head. Said it was “a little treat for the boys yeah? Just a taste love”

She scolded -- gentle parented -- Gaz gently for leaving his pint too close to the edge of the table. “You’ll knock that over, darling. Move it here, where your elbow won’t catch it.” She pulled a crossword puzzle out of her bag, a newspaper crossword, and started muttering about how “they just don’t make them like they used to.”

Soap caught her humming along to a 70s soul track that only Price ever put on the pub jukebox. Ghost watched her separate her chips from her mushy peas with the same quiet care his gran used to.

And suddenly, despite the pink sundress and the tote bag and the glowy, Disney-princess energy -- they all realized:

She was old at heart.

She might’ve looked like she belonged on some cozy campus or fairy-tale book cover, but she moved through the night like someone who’d been here before. Patient. Observant. Steady. She had Price’s tea order memorized ("two sugars, no milk"), reminded him to take his vitamins -- "m'serious John you have to stop missing your medication dear" -- with the same tone one might use to scold a naughty golden retriever.

Price. Captain John fucking Price. Grumbly. Growling. Feared by half the globe, didn’t argue. Just muttered, “Yes, love,” and obediently took the tiny chewable multivitamin she pressed into his hand like it was ammunition.

Soap nearly choked on his beer.

She fussed over Ghost’s sleeves being damp. Asked if Gaz was getting enough fiber. Told Soap she’d found the cutest mug that looked like a little sheep and bought it for him -- “because you always remind me of a sheepdog, with all that energy!”

They were under siege.

By the end of the night, Ghost. Big bad, massive, hulking, and brooding Ghost -- who once broke a man's wrist for looking at him sideways. Cleared through a room with just a pistol. Battered through a man in half -- was sitting very still as she gently lint-rolled his hoodie. Tutting about the pub cat’s fur.

When they finally left, Price tucked her under his arm, pressed a kiss to her temple, and shot the team a look over her head that said, without words: She’s my peace. Touch her and I’ll bury you under the bloody barracks.

And every single one of them -- elite, seasoned, hardened soldiers -- nodded in perfect silence.

Soap leaned in to Gaz, still stunned. “Mate,” he whispered. “She’s got 'im on a leash, nae doubt about it”

Gaz nodded back, wide-eyed. “Pink. Fluffy. And bulletproof”

Even Ghost, unflinching, unbothered and stoic Ghost, gave them the sharpest, most solemn nod of agreement in his life.

Because clearly, Captain Price didn’t command that squad.

She did.

masterlist

[jaesblogstuff]

He doesn't listen I fear.

You know those instances where you’re a kid at school and your parents have to pick you up from school because you’re sick. That reminds me of Simon only time he’s much more stubborn and doesn’t take no for an answer most times.

⸻

You told him not to go in.

That morning, watching him drag his shirt over trembling fingers, you knew something was off. His shoulders slumped just a little too far, his voice caught in his throat when he said, “Just tired, that’s all.” And the heat rolling off of him when you touched his forehead—hellfire, even then.

“You should sit this one out, Simon,” you said quietly. “You’re running a fever.”

He grunted. Kissed your temple. “I’ve had worse.”

You didn’t argue. Not really. You just watched him lace up his boots and walk out the door like the stubborn bastard he is.

⸻

It doesn’t take long.

He holds out through briefing. Through training updates. Through a round of morning paperwork where he stares at the same page for twenty straight minutes. Nobody says anything, yet, but Price is watching him closely. Always is.

Then it happens.

Mid-conversation, Simon loses his balance. He rights himself fast—too fast, but not before his hand slaps against the edge of the table for support. He’s pale beneath the mask, which makes the red flush on his neck stand out even more.

“Riley.” Price’s voice cuts through the air. Calm. Measured. “Med bay. Now.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re burning up, son.”

Simon opens his mouth to argue again—but sways instead.

Price sighs. “That’s it. You’re done. You’re no good to anyone like this. Go. And we’re calling your emergency contact.” you

“No—no, I’m good,” he rasps.

“Not asking, mate.”

⸻

The number they dial is the only one listed.

Just “Mrs. Riley – Home.”

When you answer the call, your voice is calm but laced with expectation. You excused yourself from the meeting you were in. “Let me guess. He didn’t make it through the morning.”

There’s a pause on the other end. Then, “That’d be correct, ma’am. Captain Price here. I’m sorry to call out of the blue. He’s in the med bay now—won’t let anyone near him. We’d like you to come collect him.”

You’re already getting your keys. “I told him this morning to —. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

And you are.

⸻

The base is quiet when you arrive—at least the part they bring you through. You’re escorted by a corporal who keeps glancing at you like he doesn’t know what to make of you. Neat coat. Composed expression. Eyes like polished glass. You move like someone used to command, but not in the military sense—something quieter. Older.

They don’t know who you are, not really. They’ve heard of “the missus.” Simon’s muttered references. A few quiet mentions of home, of normalcy. But none of them have seen you before.

Until now.

You step into the med bay and everything shifts.

There’s Simon—half-sitting on the cot, mask still on but sweat plastering his shirt to his back. He looks miserable. Barely holding himself upright. The medic stands a few feet away, clearly not trying to get too close.

You don’t speak loudly. You don’t need to.

“Simon.”

His head lifts.

The change is instant.

His shoulders relax. His breathing slows. He looks at you like salvation has just walked in wearing your coat.

“Love,” he croaks. “Didn’t want them to call you.”

You walk straight to him, planting yourself at his side.

“You should’ve stayed home.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re delirious.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Lets you rest your hand against his forehead. His skin is scorching. You look at him for a long second, then reach to gently peel the mask up and off.

The medics blink. Soap, lingering in the hall, actually stares.

You’re the only one he lets touch him like that.

“Let’s go,” you murmur. “Now.”

And he follows.

Like a shadow. Like a man undone.

Nobody says a word as you lead him out—his massive form leaning on you like he’s hollowed out, his head bowed slightly, his steps heavy but obedient. He doesn’t resist. Doesn’t argue.

The sergeant at the desk stares openly. One of the privates murmurs under their breath, “That’s Mrs. Riley?”

Price just nods once to himself, looking quietly satisfied. “Told you she was the only one who could get through to him.”

⸻

He’s out before you hit the highway.

One arm folded against the window, cheek pressed to his sleeve, breath slow and raspy. His body sinks into the passenger seat like it’s the first safe place he’s had all day.

You glance over at him, your fingers tight on the wheel. A small sigh escapes your chest.

“You never listen,” you whisper. “But I’ll always come get you.”

[soapbbox]

Cogless Megatron looks like he’s demand the X-Box privileges from Starscream.

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET TO 😭 Megatron is playing Strat Ball lol, he’s still bratty even with his cog

[kkusuka]

i would love to be john price's (141's) little bird.

(afab reader, you're lowkey a housewife, g/n pronouns, this was also a lot longer than i meant it to be-1.2k words- and i also wrote it entirely in class)

part 2

just the cute little thing he comes home to after long missions; ready to give him anything he needs to fully enjoy his time at home. barefoot and wide-eyed waiting for your bear of a husband to return from his long hard mission, keeping him fed and fucked as much as he needs. and he just loves you so much-- so much that he needs to show everyone how good you are for him.

it's not like he sets out to rub it in, but when his sergeant mentions not having anyone waiting for him at home-- john just can’t help but invite him over, you always talk about how much you love taking care of him, adding another man shouldn't be a problem! and what kind of captain would he be if he didn't take care of his subordinates?

and you aren't complaining! you love when john lets you see into his job! and gaz is just so sweet, saying please and thank you, offering to help clean the dishes, and politely refusing any leftovers even when you all know he has no food to go back to. so, you just have to keep inviting him over, night after night. and he's so good at conversations, even when he and your husband talk with all their military jargon, he makes sure you understand all of it; you just want to keep him in your house forever! so you kind of do…

you can't imagine making him go all the way home to his cold and dark apartment, it's so far and you know he's tired from his month of constant action-- so suddenly kyle has a bedroom set up right next to yours (close enough to hear how john thanks you for being so good to his sergeant, and just maybe a hand goes down below his waistband) a fully stocked bathroom and a place to put his shoes when you all come back your occasion dinners out. (they're dates, you don't think it but they do)

but kyle is not a man so stay silent about his blessings. you're too nice, too pretty to not tell soap about-- and trust john isn't going to complain, and he knows that you won’t either. 'the best roast i think i've ever had' and 'knows exactly how to make a man feel at home' and soap is not one to stray from his desires.

so you end up with your boys, and a bubbling scotsman in your dinning room with no warning. and you're upset, no one told you that you had to make more food and now there isn't enough to give everyone your usual heaping portion- and there is no way you're letting anyone go hungry in your home!

so you end up bouncing around the kitchen, trying to whip something up before the main course finishes in the oven and who but soap offers to help you out! he's got a hand on you at all times (two on your waist when you're chopping the onion, he just wouldn't know what to do with himself if you got hurt making him dinner. so he has to hold you steady, he has to run his hands over your hips keep you stabilized-- don't think too much into it, just stay focused on chopping bonnie)

and soap knows that he can talk for hours, but he can't help it when your eyes light up when he mentions his childhood in scotland and his missions around the world. and your small flinch and frown when he talks about getting hurt. their lass just can't help but worry about them. he just can't stay away from his captains sweet bird-- not when you send him off with a steaming pile of leftovers and a tight hug (pressed against him as hard as you can because you don’t want him to go)

johnny, a man to brag, never shuts up about how it took kyle three months to get a room but it only took him two. (sometimes when he comes back from the bathroom in the morning he can see into your room as you're getting ready. and he doesn't mean to do it but your panties are his favorite shade of blue and they look so amazing on you-- he wants to see them up close so bad.)

and so he tells ghost of all his troubles- unasked and randomly the next time they got sent out. and does ghost really care about johnny's playground crush on their captains bird? yes. how had he been left the only one not getting home cooked meals after being sent out? is he going to say anything about it?

not a chance.

so it takes a little while before the final place at your dinner table to be filled. but after a particularly grueling mission (and already wishing to come over), ghost is finally convinced he belongs with the rest of his team.

and you've never been happier to make extra food; you've been hearing for months about the illusive fourth man of your husband's battalion but having him stand in your kitchen with a cute little store bought dessert was certainly worth the wait. ( 'Ah didnae ken ye liked pink that much, lt' 'it was all they 'ad, can't show up empty 'anded, johnny')

and is he a little awkward and standoffish, of course-- years of military pressure will do that to a man!

and simon is just too sweet, even if he doesn't know it. he's pulling your chair out for you, and running out in the rain to collect the mail that you'd forgotten all about. he even lets you drag him to the grocery store during your weekly trips. (it's not dragging, he'd follow you into the pits of hell if you'd asked him too so the grocery store is really not a big deal.)

everything is just so perfect when all of your the boys are all in the house together!

and suddenly everything in life makes sense again. that plate that you can never reach on the highest shelf in the kitchen, a body is pressed against you as simon leans over you to grab it leaving you with a squeeze to your hip and red face. the gossip that your husband just never understood in the way he should is studently being told to kyle over coffee every morning as your other boys roll out of bed. the soap opera that you rope johnny into watching every thursday night becomes facemasks and wine time.

and john just loves it. he just loves you so much; loves the way you smile at kyles flirting, loves how you cuddle up to johnny on the couch, loves how you let simon hold you so close when you make his tea in the morning, and he just loves teasing you about it. (teasing? yes. making you face the fact that you want your husbands men to run a train on you like a whore. also yes.)

i wanna keep going but i have to let it end at some point

[konigbaby]

I'M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH | via vhenan_virabelasan on insta এ

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Texting the COD men that you can’t pay rent!

Tags: COD men x fem!Reader, smau, suggestive, nsfw on soap’s slide, cursing, mdni

An: Based off of the tiktok trend :3 I wanted to do this with JJK men, but I think the COD men make it even funnier. This is also my first COD smau. I went with the characters that I’m most comfortable portraying. lmk if you want to see more of them or someone else!

Incl - Ghost, König, Price, Keegan, Soap

[h3lian]

𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐡��𝐥𝐝. 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 —𝐈 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 '𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐈'𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝.

— Figured I may as well touch this one up a bit & post it finally, alongside the other touched up piece. Both were done because I was inspired by my partner through our babbles & rps over the past few months. I adore these two because of them 💕

[alarminglybad]

Don’t just smell clean. Smell MANLY clean.

Not a Comictober prompt! Just today’s a normal posting day for me

I’m going to try and meet the prompts as best I can (with the help of videos and reposts), and my usual posting schedule might be tweaked to accommodate.

But wanted to get this one out today!

[clnclm]

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

"Oh fuck," you whimper out. "I think I feel you in my guts."

"Fuckin hell bonnie, I can see him in your guts," Johnny says, a finger tracing the outline of Simon's cock over your abdomen.

You shudder at the feeling, clenching down harder which makes Simon grunt in response.

They each share a glance, an unspoken agreement made before Simon picks up his pace.

At the same time, Johnny turns to pressing his hand down on the imprint, making you cry out as you throw an arm over your face.

Simon lets out a disgruntled 'tsk' before prying your arm away.

"Let me see you love."

[phantasm-ae]

cw: fluff, cowgirl afab reader x ghost, grumpy x sunshine, clumsy reader

HEADCANON: the team meets Ghost’s little bird

PAIRING: Simon Riley x reader

It all started when Soap, half-joking -- not really -- asked over a pint of that terrible guinness that one of the recruits mentioned that he voiced out a lingering thought out loud,

"So, Ghost. Ye ever gonna introduce us to yer missus? Or is she just some hallucination ye made up tae wind us up aye?"

Ghost, who had never confirmed nor denied anything about his personal life, simply shrugged. "Pub. Friday. Seven."

Soap thought he was joking.

At exactly Friday, seven-fucking-pm though. Soap. Soap realized he was wrong.

They met at a grimy pub near base. Price was wary. Gaz looked openly curious. Soap just looked excited, because how normal could Ghost’s wife possibly be? Some goth lady with a death glare? A sniper with a scar over her eye? A shadow in human form?

None of the above.

What actually walked in was—

A tiny woman in a beat-up leather jacket, dusty denim jeans, a battered cowboy hat tilted low over her messy braid. Coupled with a pair of cracked leather boots that clomped across the floor like she owned the place.

Holy shit

She looked like she could ride a bull, shoot a rifle, and kiss you breathless — not necessarily in that order.

She waved frantically the moment she spotted them though — knocking over a chair and nearly tripping over her own boots as she did.

"HEY, SI" she yelled across the entire bar.

Ghost — stoic, terrifying, 6'4" Ghost — immediately straightened in his seat like a teenager seeing his crush. He actually moved. Stood up. Went to meet her halfway like she was the only thing that existed.

Soap’s jaw was physically on the table.

This tiny woman. Small. Wiry. Sun-kissed and with the greatest pair of tits Soap has ever seen immediately launched herself into Ghost’s arms like a missile. He caught her easily -- of course -- one hand on her lower back, the other ruffling her tousled brown hair with ridiculous tenderness.

Leaning down to let her smack a kiss right onto the cloth of his mask like she couldn’t give a single shit about what people thought.

She yanked the brim of his hat down over his eyes — wait! when had he gotten a hat?? — and laughed that big, reckless, wild West laugh that turned every head in the pub.

The team stared in horror and awe.

"This can’t be real," Gaz muttered. "I’m dreaming. I died in Syria."

"She's so small," Soap whispered back, scandalized. "And she’s—she’s—hot??"

They made it back to the table, Ghost’s hand resting casually on her hip like a leash.

When they made it back to the table, she shoved Ghost into a chair, plopped herself onto his lap without ceremony, and grinned at the rest of them.

"Howdy, boys," she said, tipping her hat.

Soap almost cried.

She was absolute chaos. Stole the darts right out of the wall and challenged Soap to a game ("loser buys shots, city boy" "'m from Scotland, lass" "Cattle country ain't like sheep country, sugar" "we have cows. They moo too").

Gaz: "You're so fucking stupid mate"

Soap: "Shut it aye?"

Flirted shamelessly with Ghost across the table — calling him "sugar," "cowboy," and "my big strong man" with zero shame in her Southern-twanged voice. Told Price he looked like a "sheriff with a broken heart."

Somehow wrangled Ghost into a pool match where she used him as her pool cue guide — pressed up against him, his huge hands guiding hers, while she winked at the others over her shoulder.

Ghost never smiled. Never joked. Never talked much. But with her? He was... different.

Softer. More human. Maybe even a little helpless, the poor bastard.

Price, to his credit, kept a straight face. Barely.

Soap, meanwhile -- after losing to her on those stupid darts and took on the challenge of guzzling down the said shots -- was vibrating with suppressed laughter.

She was chaos. Pure, distilled chaos — loud, funny, mean, fun, but also wildly affectionate. She stole a chip off Gaz and a stranger's plate without asking. Shooed off two creeps with a death glare who wouldn’t stop pestering the girls at the counter. Challenged the bouncer -- a hulking and massive bloke -- to arm wrestle and actually fucking won! Spent half an hour helping to take pictures of an old couple on a vacation to send to their grandkids. And started a chant for Price to shotgun a beer (he declined, though grimly but... endeared).

And through all of it, Ghost just... watched her. Silent. Steady. The same way he’d scan a perimeter — except more devoted. Soap swearing that he could even see him smile behind the mask.

At one point, she tugged on his sleeve and whispered something in his ear that made him let out a genuine, low chuckle. An actual laugh. Gaz's drink came out of his nose at that and Soap almost passed out from the shock.

By the end of the night, they were all completely obsessed with her.

(And slightly terrified. She challenged another guy twice her size to a pull-up contest and won.)

As they stumbled out of the pub, she looped an arm around Ghost’s waist and shouted, "THIS IS MY HUSBAND! HE’S BIGGER THAN YOUR HUSBAND!" at absolutely no one.

Ghost didn’t even blink. Just tugged her closer and murmured, "Alright, birdie. Inside voice yeah?."

"YOU LOVE ME BABY," she hollered back.

"Yeah," he said simply, not caring who heard. "I do."

And if anyone at the pub dared to stare — well, nobody wanted to make eye contact with a man wearing a skull mask who looked like he could bench-press a car and the woman who looked like she could drive said car through you and still smile while doing it.

Soap later: "Lass is unhinged aye?." Gaz: "You’re just mad she drank you under the table, mate." Price: "I like her. She’s good for him." Soap: "Naw, like... she’s pure mental. He’s just as daft. It’s a match made in hell, I’m tellin' ye.

Ghost, hearing them gossip: (Just shrugs.) "I like her loud. Makes it easier to find her."

masterlist

[wombywoo]

wedding bells 💒

[timetravellingshinigami]