#soap in a kilt

[the-shotce-newsletter]

If the 141 were in Mass Effect, you know everyone single one of them would be an N7. In the Systems Alliance for Earth in Mass Effect that’s the most elite, top tier, badass rank you can get. Ghost having a pet- *cough* trained varren was @starlightvld ‘s idea. Boo has adopted Soap until Shepard’ been set loose (though you know Price would totally break them out). Instead of calling them muppets, Price calls them all pyjaks (space monkey) because he was a krogan in another life.

As I doodled and tried to figure out their classes, I had this idea of Price starting a task force of N7s to help Shepard in the war against the reapers.

[richardazer]

HAPPY NEW YEAR'S

Cold boys for yall <3

[x3no9]

Soap needs Ghost to check a beauty mark ;).

Very cropped and altered lol.

See full version via the link. (Mature content)

[capt-mactavish]

every time i see Soap in a kilt stuff it's always a formal event, which is always a treat, but also please consider: Soap at the Highland Games

[w4nderingstarcodfanfics]

A True Scotsman

*Waves* Hello COD fandom.

I come bearing the fic equivalent of a shit post.

I promise I have more serious works to bring you sometime soon.

Summary: Price calls his operators back to base and everyone gets to know Soap a wee bit more than they wanted to.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45906133

[cod-dump]

Gaz: Hey, LT- Whoa-

Ghost, wearing a kilt: Laugh and you’re dead

Gaz: I- what is this?!

Ghost: I decided to be a smartass about something Soap said but now I’m very self-conscious

Gaz: Why? You look great

Ghost: Don’t fuck with me

Gaz: I’m not! Has Soap seen you?

Ghost: No, surprisingly. He’s normally up my ass-

Soap, barging into the room: SO THEY WEREN’T LYING

Ghost & Gaz: *jump at Soap’s sudden intrusion*

Soap: THOSE PICTURES DIDN’T DO YOU JUSTICE, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT LOOKING SO HOT RIGHT NOW DAMN- C’MERE HERE

Gaz: *watches Ghost dodge Soap before running out of the room, holding down the kilt as he does*

Gaz: … can’t believe I get to witness this shit for free

[konigsblog]

sOAP IN A KILT

soap in a kilt...... 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

usually, scottish men will wear kilts to weddings.

now i enjoy the idea of soap wearing a blue and green kilt, but since he's catholic, he'd probably wear a red kilt. but then again, i'm not sure what clan he is in.. (i'm pretty sure there is a mactavish clan, if i'm correct?)

it's your wedding night, the sky fades from bright orange to deep red, creating an ombre of bright and bold colours in the sky. you're alone together, or at least away from others, after having a couple drunks together and enjoying each other's presence and comfort. although while you're gazing off into the sunset, a romantic moment shared on your wedding night, you notice the sound of johnny's breathing becoming laborious and fast, his eyes fixated on you in the corner of your eye.

fuck, you look absolutely beautiful like this. he feels himself getting hotter and his cock throbbing, becoming harder and more desperate. you're immediately concerned before you notice how flushed and flustered he is and how adamant he is that you have to follow him to a discreet, quiet area, far from the public's eye.

you sink to your knees as soon as you're hidden together, pushing his kilt out of the way, his weeping dick perking out at you, ready to be sucked. you giggle as you begin to fist his lengthy dick, each stroke causing a groan to emit from johnny. he huffs and grunts as you finally wrap your soft lips around his shaft, your lipstick leaving stains along his dick, gazing up at him as he pushes your hair from your beautiful face.

he feels himself relaxing at the soothing sensation—the wetness of your mouth and throat—as you take him all the way down, massaging his balls gently in soothing circles. his eyes roll backwards through delectation and gratification, his chest rising and falling at the tightness of your lips around his girth, his tip already beginning to ooze thick loads of his milky cum. he can't help himself; he can't hold back. the sight leaves him heavy-lidded, exhausted, and delirious. his attempts at concealing his loud moans fruitless as they flow from his lips like a harmony, bucking against your face, his white load running down your throat.

god, you ruin him. you really do, bonnie...

[s0fter-sin]

prince!ghost and lord in waiting!soap

ghost is a warrior prince, next in line after king price and it’s always been accepted he would be the lone ruler; never one for entertaining the courts or indulging foreign rulers trying to consolidate their power. he hardly acts like a prince at all, in name only when he spends more time as a pseudo captain of the guard. price has never begrudged him that, not when he himself has been a lone king since his inauguration

though he’s a warrior prince, he’s never lost the favour of the people; many see him as a guardian even if he doesn’t interact with the people as much as benevolent and stalwart king price. who he does interact with is the kingdom’s children; always ready to bend a knee and listen to bright voices, to praise stick swords and shields or hear the plight of a struggling family. it was a common belief that if he wasn’t out protecting, then he was with the protected; face covered, blonde curls shining in the sun

soap’s always loved ghost. as his lord in waiting, it’s been his job to attend him since they were young and even as a child, he’d idolised him; his skills in battle, his surety. he thought his life would be nothing but service, clothing a brat prince and making sure his shoes shined. but ghost has proven more than that; he treats him as an equal, consults him on strategy and court politics and over time that idolisation turned into love

and ghost has always felt the same. he’d begrudged the idea of a lord in waiting, not wanting someone always in his business but then came this spitfire who never missed an opportunity to push back on him; to make him dig deeper. johnny is more than some mere servant; he’s his confidant, his best friend, his… everything. he could be simon with him, not prince ghost

but simon figures that out too late

king price gets word from king shepherd, a kingdom they’ve only recently stopped feuding with and he’s offering up his son, prince graves, as a way to bond their kingdoms together and firmly put war behind them. price is ready to deny him, he doesn’t fear war from shepherd, when he sends some ancient laws that leave him unable to refuse. he hates it, hates that he’s ruining ghost’s happiness and feels like he’s betraying his adopted son but there’s nothing he can do

graves comes to their kingdom within the month and it’s clear from the moment he walks through their gates that he’s the opposite of ghost; arrogant and conceited, his ceremonial armour glossy and untouched by battle. he’s dismissive of their servants, of their ways, of their people and ghost hates him

graves insists that the wedding happen as soon as possible, pushing the craftsmen and cooks beyond their limits to prepare and every moment ghost spends with him, the more he dreads his wedding day. every evening he retreats to his room, exhausted, and it’s all johnny can do to keep him afloat; trying to keep him positive as ghost falls away and simon breaks in his arms. he wants to whisk him away like the old tales, the pain his oldest friend and love is in making his heart ache but all he can do is promise to be there with him

but it seems graves wants to take even him away

“soap’s been my lord in waiting since we were children,” ghost protests, voice barely clinging to civility. “i wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable worker.”

“there are plenty of decent servants in our kingdom; you’ll forget this one soon enough,” graves waves away, carding a possessive hand over his curls and it’s only bc he’s looking for it that soap sees ghost’s jaw twitch beneath his neck gaiter. “it’s custom for one marrying into our kingdom to embrace all that it has to offer, leaving who they were behind to become someone better. you’re entering a new life with me; you don’t need the baggage of this dreary place.”

soap feels sick as he walks behind them, his blank expression hiding all sign of his breaking heart.

“soap is beholden to me,” ghost declares. “we were sworn together by the old laws. i’m afraid a custom isn’t enough for me to break a vow to the gods.”

graves lets out a disgruntled noise, tugging harshly at one of ghost’s curls with only a thin veil of fondness; his conceding smile not reaching his eyes.

“i never made a vow to the gods,” johnny points out later. “price gave me to you because he was sick of me setting fire to the kitchens.”

simon hums and sets his freshly cleaned armour aside, turning to him with a twinkle in his eyes he’s barely seen since sheperd’s missive. “you pinkie swore that you would never leave me; that’s more powerful than any promise to the gods,” he says and soap’s thrown back fifteen years, to a willow tree big enough to touch the sky; to two boys from different stations who didn’t care that one was dressed in silk and the other in scraps.

johnny feels a lightness he hasn’t in a month as simon winks at him. “besides, do you really think graves is smart enough to figure it out?”

the days pass quickly, graves’ veneer of affection growing ever thinner, and before either of them are ready, it’s the eve of ghost’s wedding.

he’s said nothing, done nothing but stare at the wedding robes graves had tailored for him in the fashion of his kingdom and johnny doesn’t know how to break the silence. he draws out each second as he fusses with the cape piece and ensures the shoes shine in the fire light until he has no more excuses.

he sighs as he straightens up, brushing off polish onto his pants. “i suppose this is where i leave you,” he says with a weak smile but it quickly dies when simon still doesn’t look at him. “i’ll be here in the morning to help you get ready… good night, simon.”

johnny bows and makes for the door, trying to convince himself he didn’t just say goodbye.

but he’s stopped by simon’s hand loosely wrapping around his wrist.

he looks back as simon finally tears his eyes away from the robes, looking at him with such clear longing it almost brings him to his knees.

“i don’t want graves to be the first man to touch me, johnny,” he confesses and johnny’s breath hitches. “i don’t want to be married to another… not when the one i’m set to wed isn’t you. but if i have to do this… please let me feel loved one final time.”

simon’s thumb brushes the back of his hand; their kingdom’s greatest warrior caressing him with a touch light as silk. he doesn’t pull johnny in, doesn’t need to; johnny’s already sinking into his touch.

desperation and love tinge every movement; johnny dancing his fingers over simon’s neck gaiter until he all too happily removes it, baring his scarred cheeks and lips. johnny kisses each one, willing his love and his touch to linger above all others as they move together; sharing breath, sharing body, sharing soul the way they wish they always have.

when ghost makes his way down the aisle, it’s not in the fine embroidered robes graves had laid out for him. he’s in his battle armour; dark and weathered, the sign of the ghost, the warrior prince, going to battle. the only thing missing is his helm, tucked under his arm.

showing his hair; curls gone and shaved tight to his skin.

a thing done only in a time of great mourning.

graves looks irate and it’s the only spark of joy ghost feels as he stops before the altar; set beneath the willow tree where johnny promised himself to him. one final insult.

ghost is silent throughout the ceremony and in spirit and in grief, so is the entire gathered kingdom until the priestess reaches the final vows and suddenly, a great roar rises above the crowd as seemingly every child in the kingdom swarms the altar.

ghost is too shocked to do anything but let them push him away from graves, bullying their way between them like they’re preparing to protect him just as he’s always protected them.

graves is furious but the children stand firm in the face of his threats until he moves to strike one-

and freezes as soap’s blade finds his throat.

“you would dare hurt these children?” he growls, sword following graves as he stumbles back. “you’ve kept up your charade the entire time and here is where you show your true colours. i think it’s time i show mine.”

graves splutters as johnny turns to the priestess and king price, falling to one knee and offering up his blade. “your grace, i wish to challenge prince graves for the hand of prince simon!”

his voice rings clear and he feels the eyes of every person in the kingdom.

but he only cares for one man.

who is watching him with more love than he’s ever felt.

“who are you to challenge me?” graves sneers. “you’re nothing more than a servant; no better than the dirt on my boots.”

johnny doesn’t bother to look at him, too caught in the love in simon’s eyes and the grateful look on king price’s face. “then you should have nothing to worry about. you’ve been crowing your accolades from the rooftops since you got here; let’s see if you live up to the hype.”

because simon only ever introduced him as his lord in waiting.

never as sir soap- his second in command and one of the greatest swordsmen their kingdom has ever seen.

[appleciderp]

They just got married :)

Day 20! of daily Soap in kilts for @empresscirque

[grimmzee]

“Lookin’ good L.T.”

[x3no9]

Burly MacTavish version!

Full version via the link. Mature only.

Tell me if you find the beauty mark ;).

[sofasoap]

First dance

I just want to squeal and scream with this art. Thank you @kaplerrr, Oh you done it again after the lovely “Mini"MacTavish art you have come up with last time. Based on the scene of my fic Hello There. where Soap and Reader/OC(Emma if you read it from another fic) shares a dance during Simon and Mini's wedding. There are not enough art of Soap wearing kilt out there, and oh, the talented @kaplerrr has done it. You have no idea how happy this made me. Thank you SO SO SO SO MUCH.

[natelia-aldelliz]

I wanted to try and find my headcanon of Roach's face because for some reason my brain decided that I couldn't keep writing my fanfic if I didn't know what I wanted him to look like beneath his mask... So obviously the full picture wasn't planned. (Also I went the easy way for the background because I remembered that I wasn't getting paid anyway so why make myself suffer)

I don't know if the design is definitive, but I find him cute. I made him Welsh, because why not. He can bond with Soap over why the fuck do the English exist.

Anyway they're gossiping about someone at the pub like the little shits they are. Also I don't know if it's obvious or not, but Roach has the mask sun-tan line. Ghost does too. Speaking of Ghost, he's on the other side of the table, looking like that :

[plutoswarrior]

I really do hate to add to the common interpretation that Soap is kind of a slut aka “man is nice and pretty and funny and obviously that makes him promiscuous” because genuinely a man should be allowed to act how he wants without people assuming he’s always down to fuck, not that it’s a negative thing to be a sexually active man I just think his kindness is over exaggerated into general horniness which can often take away from how interesting and complex a character he really is

However

I do think that he has Ghost’s fingerprints tattooed on his thighs where he holds them.

[cheeze-leweez]