#johnny quid

[cuteguywhump]

Toby Kebbell as Johnny Quid in RocknRolla (2008)

[viideadlysyns]

Me wishing I was a cigarette. A series in photos and gifs.

[apixellife]

Group Gifts @ Cosmopolitan

Lempika – Sandals Fatpack #007Johnny Quid (rocknrollas)http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Guzel%20Ada/151/68/802https://marketplace.secondlife.com/stores/234574https://marketplace.secondlife.com/es-ES/stores/212031.https://www.flickr.com/photos/170788489@N03 [Din] Isla 6 colors For Legacy – Perky -Maitreya – Kupra – Reborn/Juicy/Rolls – Erika – GenX- Peach bodies nina…

[stellewriites]

Hii! Can you do ghoap x reader fluff? Like cuddles with mild flirting (from soap, obviously) and like soap is the little spoon, because in return he gets head scratches in return, reader in the middle, and Simon as the big spoon just pressing his face into the crook of readers neck?

Would rlly apreciate it <3

-🌑

i loved this idea when i read it and then proceeded to take far too long to actually answer it lmao BUT!! here it is,, ghoap x fem!reader fluff - ty for the request 💓

you picked up the cheap jar of pasta sauce and compared it to the branded version stacked next to it. as far as you could tell, the ingredients were the same and the little veg chunks included weren’t any smaller.

you nodded to yourself. it was decided, you weren’t paying two quid extra just for a name, fuck dolmio.

you looked higher to the top shelf and frowned when you saw the pasta had been pushed away from the edge and you’d be unable to reach it on your own.

“need a hand, dove?”

you turned to see a handsome man with a mohawk beelining towards you, his eyes tracing your frame with hot familiarity. without waiting for your response, he bullied his way into your space to reach over you for the pasta. barely stepping back, he handed you the pack and looked you up and down.

“thanks, stranger,” you said, holding back a laugh at his amused smile. you saw the moment he decided to play along.

“pretty skirt,” he said and nodded down to your bare legs peeking out beneath the denim.

“hm, my boyfriend got me it,” you said, a little teasingly.

“oh? and this boyfriend, he’s left ye all alone to do the shoppin’ has he?”

“no, he’ll be back soon. and he’s kinda protective, won’t be happy seeing me talking to other guys,” you said trying not to smile.

“ah’m no’ scared,” he scoffed, his own smile breaking out as he looked around the aisle eagerly for the aforementioned boyfriend.

“i don’t know, he’s pretty big and strong, wears a scary mask,” you said.

“aye? reminds me o’ my boyfriend,” he said and you finally giggled, leaning in to kiss him and giving up playing pretend.

“dove, they got their tiger bread in stock again,” simon said as he rounded the corner of the aisle and interrupting your kiss. “i ha’n’t ‘ad this in ages.” simon barely paused at the unexpected appearance of johnny, his eyes turning up in the corners as he smiled under his mask. “johnny, look, tiger bread.”

“yeah, i seen, si,” johnny said fondly, crowding you back against the trolley. “only getting the one loaf?”

simon paused. “hm. you’re right.”

you snorted as he dropped the bread into the trolley before heading back to the bakery section and leaving the pair of you alone again.

“work was a fookin’ drag, dove, cannae stand all this paperwork they’re keepin’ me busy with,” johnny groaned into your temple. you petted his arm consolingly before turning back to your list and shopping trolley.

“you were injured less than a month back, john, you can’t have been expecting to be back in the field so soon?” you hummed as you continued shopping with johnny leant over your back.

his silence spoke volumes.

you shook your head as you made your way through the store and waved simon over as you passed him by, hoping he hadn’t harassed the bakery staff into making more tiger loaves last minute for him. the absolute fiend.

“wha’s wrong with him?” simon asked as he got back, hands full as he nodded to johnny’s slumped frame. you refrained from asking simon if you really needed three tiger breads and instead nudged your other boyfriend up from your shoulder.

“he’s bored,” you said easily, grinning when johnny pulled back properly to send you a betrayed look.

“fuck’s sake. c���mere,” simon huffed before dipping down to kiss him, chuffing a laugh as johnny sputtered at the woollen texture of the mask in between them. “you’ll be back in no time. just behave or it’ll be longer.”

“ye sound like cap,” johnny grimaced. he wiped a hand down his tired face. “when are we goin’ home, hm? fuckin’ knackered, could do with a nap before dinner.”

“y’drive ‘ere?” ghost asked while you grabbed a box of eggs, checking for any cracked inside.

“aye.”

“then you can leave whenever,” ghost said flatly, though the glint of his eyes in the overhead lights betrayed his amusement at johnny’s plight.

johnny pouted.

“yer cruel, si. tell him, dove, he’s heartless,” johnny bemoaned dramatically.

“you’re cruel and heartless, simon, would you prefer strawberry jam or raspberry for a change?”

“could be a treat,” ghost conceded.

johnny groaned at the both of you, pinching your hip when you laughed.

“you both know i cannae sleep without someone’s arms around me,” he huffed, turning his big puppy eyes on you both.

you caved immediately.

“aw poor baby,” you cooed, biting your lip when you saw simon roll his eyes. “let’s get this done quick then, yeah? go grab the burgers we like from the frozen section and that ice cream we got a couple weeks back.”

“yes, ma’am.” johnny jogged off.

“si, can i trust you not to make your way back to the bakery if i give you a list of items to grab?”

“no,” he admitted without shame. “i saw the lad in the back prepping more for tomorrow, think i could convince ‘im to cook ‘em now for me if given the time.”

“right. hand holding it is as we find the toiletries then. ‘s like herding cats with you two.”

simon hummed, his eyes trained on the section you knew the bakery to be hidden in.

—

once home, johnny packed away the majority of your shopping in record time, snatching the jam from simon’s hands and almost throwing it onto the work top before plying his mask up one handed and dragging him down into a rough kiss with the other. you watched, amused, with raised eyebrows as johnny dragged him back towards the bedroom desperately, waving a hand at you and gasping out a needy, “dove, c’mon, stop fucking around,” in between wet kisses.

you didn’t need to be told twice before attaching your hands onto simon’s thick waist from behind, guiding them from bumping into any furniture or walls as they stumbled blind to the bedroom.

johnny pulled back with a dopey smile and pushed simon none too gently onto the bed. you took advantage of his lowered height and pulled off his mask completely, rubbing a gentle hand over his buzz cut hair and down to his jaw. you leant in for a soft peck before feeling johnny’s hands and arms wrap around your soft stomach.

he clung to you, nuzzling at your cheek over your shoulder until you turned in his arms to share your attention.

you heard the bed creak as simon settled further up the bed as johnny kissed you. you shuffled back, parting from johnny just long enough to get your bearings and climb onto the bed, simon’s hands moving to guide you back as johnny hummed against your lips.

you flopped back into simon’s arms, got comfortable as he wrapped you up and held you tight against him.

johnny sighed in relief at the sight and shuffled down so he could rest his head on your chest.

you gathered him close and laughed when he started whining when your hands stayed on his shoulders.

“so needy johnny, have you ever heard the phrase ‘patience is a virtue’?” you teased as you started to run your nails through his hair, lightly scratching until he sighed and dropped his body weight against you and simon.

“too t’red,” he mumbled.

simon lifted his warm hand from your hip and draped it heavily over the back of johnny’s neck, keeping him close. soon enough, the scot was snoring.

you tried not to laugh, your chest bouncing johnny with your muffled chuckles. “i think that might be a record.”

“tired lamb,” simon said condescendingly, but he rubbed his thumb lovingly over the soft skin behind johnny’s ear.

“don’t be mean.” you grinned back at him.

simon hummed and rested his head into the crook of your neck, tucking you in closer with the arm still wrapped underneath your waist. “not bein’ mean.”

he nipped at your neck, a soft nibble that had you gasping and clenching your thick thighs around the one johnny had slipped inbetween.

“prick,” you huffed without malice when he stopped and let out a long tired breath in your ear. he hummed with closed eyes, clearly not listening.

you chuffed a laugh into johnny’s hair. the low thrum of arousal simon had brought on was easy enough to ignore but you’d have rather he’d finished what he started. instead, you tucked your cold toes between his large calves behind you in penance and tugged johnny even closer, enough to smother him. with your arse perched perfectly in simon’s lap and johnny nestled close to his second favourite place on your body, you were sure they’d give you what you were after once their nap is over. you closed your eyes with a smile; you could wait for them to get their energy up, and you loved your puppy piles just as much as they did.

[oceantornadoo]

the realistic aftermath of ghost catching the handy in the back alley with best friend!johnny…a few weeks later

“ugh johnny, get off.” you tried pushing against him but he was deadweight, 200+ pounds of muscle at the mercy of many, many alcoholic drinks. “fhehnihernr.” you rolled your eyes. “i don’t know what you’re saying.” instead of answering, he wrapped his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you into him by your stomach. “miss? did you need some help? or another drink?” you laid your hand on top of johnny’s and he growled in approval. “two waters, please.” the bartender nodded and turned around to grab the cups. “wanna be closer t’ ye, leannen.” you chuckled in spite of yourself. “can’t get much closer than you are now.” to save him from responding, the bartender placed down your waters and you took them, nodding your thanks. “drink up, come on.” you pushed the water cup toward him, ignoring his messy mohawk and gleaming blue eyes. how even shitfaced, your best friend was too handsome and flirtatious for his own good. “let’s go back to gaz.”

johnny slid into the booth first, wrapping an arm around gaz’s shoulder. “gazzy!” you snorted, attempting to slide in after johnny. he halted your plans by dragging you into his lap, losing no strength even with his lack of sobriety. instead of protesting, you laid back on johnny’s chest, mouthing “sorry”to gaz. gaz shook his head, opting to answer with a sip of his beer. “you’re lucky cap isn’t here.” johnny had finished the water cup, slamming it down on the table. you leaned forward, ignoring his growl at the movement, and placed the second cup in his waiting hands. he chugged it, muscled throat pumping at the exertion. you overted your eyes, wisely placing your gaze on the football game on the tv. “why’s that?” thankfully, johnny sounded more sober now, the slurring at a minimum. “‘cause you two are disgusting.” you shot him an affronted look. “i’m not doing anything!” gaz pushed at your shoulder, causing you to tilt, until johnny righted you in his lap, grip growing tighter. “soap’s annoyin’ but he knows how to take a woman’s no for an answer. you jus’ never tell him no.” hmph. he did have you there. instead of forcing you to answer, johnny rested his chin your shoulder, drawing the blame back on him. “think yer jealous ‘cause i hav’ a new favorite sergeant. she’s a wee more bonnie than you, gazzy.” he placed down the second water cup, sounding s bit more sober now. “well ‘ve got 100 quid on you tossers so don’t fuck it up.” instead of letting you answer, johnny pushed you off his lap and out of the booth, murmuring something about going to the dance floor.

and now you were here, arms wrapped around johnny as you danced way too slowly to the 80s rock crooning out of the pub speakers. the tension was calmer now, the drinks in your system finally hitting, putting you at an equal level with johnny’s slowly sobering brain. he rocks you gently, strong arms keeping you steady as your fingers skim his triceps, defined even under his shirt. his fingers splay against your waist, brushing the top of your ass as you sway off beat. gaz’s words swam through your mind, coupled with the looks ghost had been giving you since he caught you two in the alley. he hadn’t told anyone, hence the bet gaz mentioned, but youve felt the silent questions coming off of him every time you entered the room. johnny feels you tense in his arms, too intuned with all your movements. “ask me, lass.” you swallowed at the low gravel of his voice, accent deeper in your ear. “are- are we doing something wrong? i dunno, johnny, it was all fine before anyone said anything and now-“ he stops you with a pinch to your hip. “‘s a pile of shite, bon. unless,” he pulls back slightly, grasping your chin to force you to meet his eyes. “tell me to stop.” you shake your head immediately, noting the smile on his face. “don’t stop. i like being close to you, anyway i can. even with the blurry lines.” he tucks you back against his chest, grip finally relaxing. “no lines, jus’ us.”

[redeyerhaenyra]

What sex toys would T141 use?

Summary: title :) headcanons of what sex toys I think t141 would use

Warnings: heavy smut! various elaborate sex toys, bit of electric shock play in Johnny's, phone sex, brief mention of anal beads, Simon being too hard on himself, Simon being touched starved, Simon being.. Simon, let me know if I've missed anything!

Notes: Getting this out to feed you all as I'm STILL working on that Simon smut I promised and it's only at 2k words 😭

Kyle Garrick

Kyle is a confident man

He knows what he likes, he isn't afraid to buy and try new toys

He has some anal beads for himself, doesn't use them all the time

Only when he's having an extra special night to himself✨️

He has one of those clear fleshlights

Kyle's a bit of a voyeur he likes watching himself 😏

Also has an extensive lube collection

Like, different kinds

Flavoured, tingly, aphrodisiac, ect

He'll change what lube he uses depending on his mood :P

Johnny Mactavish

Oh Johnny

Johnny Johnny Johnny

Look up the word "horny" in the dictionary a picture of this man's face comes up

He spends his hard earned military paycheck on those vibrating, self thrusting fleshlights with fucking handles on the outside

Also has a vibrating cock ring that will occasionally send little electric shocks through his cock :D

Like to think he also has just a plain dildo

Sometimes to use on himself, sometimes to suck on whilst he's fucking the fleshlight

Again, look up the phrase "oral fixation" there's a picture of his goddamn face

He also has one of those fake pussies and some fake silicone boobies for the same reason

He wants to suckle a clit or a boob in his mouth can you blame him?

He also will push the fake tits together and fuck them :P

The only reason THE ONLY REASON he doesn't take all these on deployment with him is that they wouldn't fit in his bag

Simon Riley

Poor Simon

He half thinks he doesn't deserve self pleasure

And half is kinda clueless when it comes to it other than the classic fist with a bit of spit as lube

He has fantasies about getting a generic fleshlight but he's also like

"Who would I need that I have my hands"

Like cmon Simon treat yourself 😭

Has thought about full on 300 quid sex dolls

The ones that are literally just. A silicone person

He'd never actually get one but occasionally he's so touched starved and needing to hold someone close he thinks about genuinely purchasing one 😭

John Price

I like to think John's taste in sex toys is... refined

Posh, even

I know it's so cliche to say John is old-fashioned but I truly believe he wouldn't ever dream of using modern male sex toys

They are "barbaric", he says, "teaches young men to only value a woman's body for sex".

No no, John won't be partaking in anything like that

He, a gentleman, uses phone-sex lines

To physically get off he'll use his fist, but he'll almost never do it without calling a.. "woman of the night".. and seducing her with his dulcet tones

He considers it a failure if the fine lady he's speaking with isn't also enjoying herself just as much as he

Really gets him going to be the source of someone else's, a professional pleasurers, pleasure

[call-of-duty-incorrect-quotes]

The 141 is auctioning dates with the guys to raise money. It's Johnny's turn.

Randomperson01: I give 50 quid!

Randomperson02: I give 100!

Ghost: I give 500 quid and if someone offers more I’ll see you in hell!

[shadow4-1]

(Part 2 of this post.)

After letting Soap set everything up, on his next leave of absence, Ghost finally gets to meet the plus size escort he's been having fantasies about.

However, she's only interested in laying down some ground rules.

-

To show he was serious, for their first meeting she made Ghost rent out the smoking section of a privately owned Café. It's a quaint little joint; part bookstore, part coffee shop. Cost him less than two hundred quid for the whole hour. Ghost likes the privacy and the better service - his coffee cup hasn't gone unfilled. He wonders why he's never thought of doing it before. Plus, he can have a fag without someone bothering him about the smell. The booth is in the back of the store, so leaving his face completely uncovered doesn't feel nearly as uncomfortable either.

For anyone else the mask stays on. Well, at least some form of mask. Nowadays, when deep in public territory, he sticks to a surgical mask. Still attracts some curious gazes, but after the new-age plague passed he's been left well enough alone.

Besides, the bird's a civilian through and through. She's probably used to white collar Johns with soft hands and faces. He's decidedly the opposite and doesn't want to scare her off. At a time like this he knows hiding his face would make him seem less trustworthy. She should at least be allowed to see what she's working with. He knows he's not wholly unattractive, but if compared to Soap, well he wouldn't blame her for sticking up her nose. Hell, it'd be no skin off his back.

He's early as per usual. Doesn't want to keep her waiting on him. Time is money and all that. The coffee shop staff seemed relieved at the lack of customers. Behind him, he can hear one of the servers taking an order from a customer. That's when he hears a sound that makes his ears prick up.

The sound of heels against the tile.

Subconsciously, he straightens himself. Consciously, he makes no move to attempt to preen or better his appearance in any way. What she sees is what she gets and vice versa. That's what this meeting is for anyway. It's a time to lay it all on the table.

"Hello."

Her voice is soft and sweet. He releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. When he looks up he's taken off guard by the quality of her facial features. In Johnny's pictures she looked average. But now, he realizes that perhaps the flash really dulled down her beautiful features - mainly her delicious looking lips. He swallows hard at the thought of his cock maybe getting inside that blowjob perfect mouth.

"You must be Simon."

She places down a mid-size purse on the booth seat across from him. She's dressed in business casual - a white button up and some form fitting slacks. Her makeup is subdued, her hair lightly styled. She looks completely natural. Ghost finds she's checking off all the boxes he didn't even realize he had.

She offers her hand and he shakes it. Her nails aren't painted but have a natural sheen and length. And while her palms are soft, her grip is sturdy. It's obvious that she knows how to uphold herself professionally. He already starts to feel good about this impending arrangement.

She introduces herself as a "Miss Care". It's a fake name designed to give her a simple, yet recognizable trait. He supposes her self-chosen moniker isn't far off from a callsign. Not that she'd have any idea what that even is.

"S' a pleasure." He bows his head at her in respect.

He doesn't miss the way she blushes for a second before taking the seat across from him. She opens her mouth to say something, but is rudely interrupted by a server placing a menu down in front of her. At least, he finds it quite rude. She just beams at the server and politely declines the menu. She orders a hot Chai latte with a slice of banana bread. She's obviously a regular at this place. It makes sense she'd chose it as a meeting spot.

The server scurries off, and for a second both he and her take each other in. He admires the softness of her upper body, the curvature of her breasts that are cradled lovingly by her brassiere. She seems to be reading his face, for what he can't say. Whatever she finds she seems to like based on her more confident smile.

"Johnny wasn't lying when he said you're built like a brick shithouse." She giggles.

Despite himself, Ghost can't help the flood of heat to his face. He could throttle that boy. He likes her laugh more than enough to quell that urge though. He finds himself already admiring her confidence to even speak to him like that. He knows he's intimidating.

"If you don't mind me asking," She offers before pausing. He looks at her expectanly, silently urging her to go on. "What are you looking for exactly? Not to be rude but, I'm a little shocked someone as handsome as you would be interested in my services."

A long beat of silence fills the air. It's a bit awkward but Ghost needs a second to think of his response. Not only is he caught off guard by her admonition, but how could he tell this girl he can't find it within himself to build relationship anymore, much less with a woman? Another beat of silence passes and she offers him a sheepish smile.

"Sorry. I-"

"Don't have time for a bird. Jus' looking fer a distraction." He admits, cutting her off. "Johnny talked a big game 'bout ya. Figured I'd give you a shot."

She stutters out a chuckle. His words have caught her off guard. He knows he sounds full of himself. He is full of himself. Her admitting she thinks he's attractive helps alot with his ego.

"Well, has he told you anything about my services other than I'm good at what I do?"

"No."

She goes into her purse and pulls out a semi-thick docket of paper. The headline on top let's him know exactly what it is.

"A rental agreement?" He muses.

"Mhm. I'm sure you're aware my services aren't exactly...legal on their own. So, just to stay on the right side of the law, I make sure my contract states you're renting my villa for the weekends you decide to visit." She says, flipping through the papers. "Besides, you are renting out my villa. It'll be just me and you."

He admires her business plan. A contract like that keeps her from getting scammed, and it has the added benefit of running off losers. Normally, if a John decided not to pay her for her "services" she'd be shit out of luck. This way, she'd be legally able to receive his funds under the guise of being just a landlord.

"Smart."

"Thank you."

She pulls out a pen, uncaps it, then marks on certain lines throughout the packet. She then offers him the pen.

"Wait, sorry."

He places the pen down.

"What experience are you interested in having?"

Ghost just stares at her. He doesn't really understand her question.

"Are you looking for the full girlfriend experience? Or something else?" She asks.

The server comes back with her tea and snack. She thanks them with a bright, beautiful smile Ghost wishes was directed his way. She tries to go for a sip of her hot drink but it's too hot. She licks the foam off her lips with a crinkled nose. Ghost can't help the way his lips quirk up in the corners at the sight.

"Thought that's all you offered." He admits.

"Oh, no, not at all. I offer quite a few services. All vanilla of course." She says as she goes for a piece of banana bread. "The girlfriend experience is the most popular but I can also play the part of a wife, step-sister, or mommy. Most of my clients like to start off our first session with the best friend experience. Just so we can to get used to each other without any weird tension."

Ghost is a bit taken by her straightforwardness. He knew she'd be open and honest, but hearing her talk about what role she'd be willing to play in his sex life makes him swallow hard. He doesn't know what character he wants her to play either. Every fantasy but "mommy" sounds terribly appealing. The "bestfriend" approach does sound like a good place to start. He wants sex, needs sex, but he also knows he himself might not feel the most comfortable to start with it right away.

"Friends first."

She finally gives him that stunning smile. It falters after a moment and she gives him a bit of an apologetic look.

"One last thing before we sign. We've got to go over our boundaries." She says. This time she's finally able to drink her tea. She swallows down the liquid and places it on the table. "What are some of the things you aren't comfortable with me doing."

There's another long beat of silence as Ghost thinks. He really can't think of a damn thing he wouldn't want this fuckable, pretty girl to do for him. He keeps thinking before realizing maybe he's wrong.

"Nothin' anal. N' no kissin'."

She seems confused.

"No kissing? On the mouth or all over?"

He was only thinking about the mouth. Not that he doesn't want to tongue fuck her mouth, but he thinks a degree of separation would be good to start with. The idea that she'd be willing to kiss him other places, well...the it excites him more than it should.

"Just the mouth."

"Okay." She nods. "No anal play and no kissing on the mouth."

She snacks for another moment.

"And you, Love?" He asks.

"Ooh, I like it when you call me that." She blushes again, wiping crumbs off her bottom lip with a napkin.

Ghosts lips quirk up again. He's starting to really like her attitude and sense of humor. And but of course he would. Johnny recommended her.

"Well, my boundaries are as follows:" She begins, her voice even and measured as if she's given this spiel more than enough times. "No choking, no leaving bruises - that includes hickies, no anal without lube or having told me beforehand, and no slurs or degrading names."

Ghost finds her list a little long but he understands it. He feels a bit of righteous fire in his belly at the thought of her Johns pushing her to the point of even having to make those discretions.

"Understood." He nods.

She smiles up at him and then opens the packet again. She points to the already marked lines and has him sign. As he goes along she tells him about each page of the docket. Once everything is signed she hands him a small business card.

"That's the amount for our first session. Please wire the funds to the account listed on the bottom before Friday night at the latest." She says. "If you don't, I won't be able to get everything ready for Saturday."

He nods, taking in the information on the card. Her prices would be exorbitant for a normal man, but Ghost is no normal man. He makes more than enough money to see her every weekend if he wanted to.

"Please don't be late." She taps the section of the card with the time listed. "And make sure you bring a copy of your up to date physical."

Ghost reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out two sheets of paper stapled together. She mulls over the document before grinning at him.

"Well, well, look at you. Already prepared. I think you and I are going to get along just fine." She flirts. She bats her lashes at him and it takes every fiber of his being not to reach over the table and shove his tongue down her throat.

With that she continues to snack on her drink and bread. She offers no more conversation until she's done. Ghost is more than okay with that. He's content to watch her body. He finds he really likes the way her breasts shift with her every breath.

"I'm sure you don't like surprises, so I'll give you an idea on how I schedule my visits. If you want to change anything up let me know." She says. "I'm flexible."

The flirt is not lost on Ghost. He shifts in his seat, feeling heat trickle into his cock. This girl wants to play with him, test his resolve. He hates that it's already cracking.

"When you arrive I'll greet you at the door and bring you inside. I always like to have a meal waiting for you. Afterwards, we can watch TV on the couch together or play some video games? Or I can read to you, if you'd like." She offers. "If you want, I can give you a massage. Or we can always call it a night if you get sleepy. I'll show you my room."

Her excitement is palpable, almost conspiratorial. She sounds like a girl going over her plans for her first sleepover. He supposes she's not far off. It would be their first sleepover. It would also be his first sleepover. He's never had one.

Her excitement is replaced with a nervous smile. It takes Ghost a second to realize why. He didn't realize his facial expression had changed into something a bit more pointed. He curses himself internally, tries to soften his gaze, but the damage has been done.

"If you want to have sex at any time, just say so. The first time around, I usually like for us to get a shower together." She hums. "It'll give me a chance to give you a little onceover before we start. Also, it's just really great foreplay."

While he adores the idea of a sudsy fuck in the shower he also feels like a fool. He's so used to his face being covered he's unused to controlling his facial features. He's used to letting his emotions show because no one can see. He realizes that he needs to be more careful from now on.

"We'll play it by ear." He mutters, his own mood soured. For her credit she doesn't seem to take it to heart.

"Well, no matter what we get into on Saturday I just want to let you know I'm excited." She smiles. "It's been so nice to meet you, Simon."

She tucks the paper docket and the pen back into her purse. She then cleans up her plates and napkins. Just before she readies herself to stand she looks up at him with her pretty little eyes.

"Can I kiss you goodbye on the cheek?"

Her request takes him off guard. He hasn't paid for anything yet. His heart thumps.

"Yeah."

She then stands and leans over the table. Her blouse isn't lowcut but she has enough tits to fill it out. When she leans over he has to stop himself from trying to grope them.

She kisses him sweetly. It's barely a brush of her lips against the rough skin of his cheek. His cock twitches to its full length in his trousers. If he was any farther gone he'd fuck her right there over the dishes.

She smiles down at him, lashes fluttering, purse in hand. She gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"See you Saturday."

[mclennonlgbt]

Paris in John and Paul’s life

30th September 1961:

“John and I went on a trip for his twenty-first birthday. John was from a very middle-class family, which really impressed me because everyone else was from working-class families. To us John was upper class. His relatives were teachers, dentists, even someone up in Edinburgh in the BBC. It’s ironic, he was always very ‘fuck you!’ and he wrote the song ‘Working Class Hero’ – in fact, he wasn’t at all working class. Anyway, one of John’s relatives gave him £100 for his birthday. A hundred smackers in your hand! That was a real windfall. None of us could believe it. To this day if you gave me £100 I would be impressed. And I was his mate, enough said? ‘Let’s go on holiday.’ – ‘You mean me too? With the hundred quid? Great! I’m part of this windfall.’” - Paul McCartney, Anthology

“We planned to hitchhike to Spain. I had done a spot of hitchhiking with George and we knew you had to have a gimmick; we had been turned down so often and we’d seen that guys that had a gimmick (like a Union Jack round them) had always got the lifts. So I said to John, ‘Let’s get a couple of bowler hats.’ It was showbiz creeping in. We still had our leather jackets and drainpipes – we were too proud of them not to wear them, in case we met a girl; and if we did meet a girl, off would come the bowlers. But for lifts we would put the bowlers on. Two guys in bowler hats – a lorry would stop! Sense of Humour. This, and the train, is how we got to Paris." - Paul McCartney, Anthology

“And Paul and I also did the same thing, once. We just cancelled. We’d made it, in Liverpool. We were making good money, for those days. I can’t remember what it was – maybe a couple of hundred dollars a week – but enough that you’d have a little extra. You’d have it in your back pocket. And Paul and I just— A relative of mine gave me a hundred pounds, for my birthday, which I’d never seen that much money in me life. Paul and I just canceled all the engagements, and left for Paris… And George was furious, because he needed the money – to work, you know. But that was another time when the group was in debate as whether it would exist or not.”  - John Lennon, 1976, an interview with Elliot Mintz

“Last night I heard that John and Paul have gone to Paris to play together – in other words, the band has broken up! It sounds mad to me, I don’t believe it…” - Stuart Sutcliffe, Anthology

"They were brothers. They were the Nerk Twins, and now they were taking a break from the Beatles and going off to Spain. En route, they’d stop a day or two in Paris, to size up the Brigittes, check out the kind of clothes Jurgen Vollmer wore, and perhaps see Jurgen himself, if he was around. [Johnny] Gustafson happened to bump into them the day they left, Saturday 30 September. “They both had bowler hats on, with the usual leather jackets and jeans. They said they were off to Paris, so I walked down to Lime Street station with them and watched them go. They were an incredible pair: always great fun, irreverent, and so close.” - Mark Lewisohn, All These Years: Volume One

“We’d never been there before. We were a bit tired so we checked into a little hotel for the night, intending to go off hitchhiking the next morning. Of course, it was too nice a bed after having hitched so we said, ‘We’ll stay a little longer,’ then we thought, ‘God, Spain is a long way, and we’d have to work to get down there.’ We ended up staying the week in Paris – John was funding it all with his hundred quid.

We would walk miles from our hotel; you do in Paris. We’d go to a place near the Avenue des Anglais and we’d sit in the bars, looking good. I still have some classic photos from there. Linda loves one where I am sitting in a gendarme’s mac as a cape and John has got his glasses on askew and his trousers down revealing a bit of Y-front. The photographs are so beautiful, we’re really hamming it up. We’re looking at the camera like, ‘Hey, we are artsy guys, in a café: this is us in Paris,’ and we felt like that.

We went up to Montmartre because of all the artists, and the Folies Bergères, and we saw guys walking around in short leather jackets and very wide pantaloons. Talk about fashion! This was going to kill them when we got back. This was totally happening. They were tight to the knee and then they flared out; they must have been about fifty inches around the bottom and our drainpipe trousers were something like fifteen or sixteen inches. We saw these trousers and said, ‘Excusez-moi, Monsieur, où did you get them?’ It was a cheap little rack down the street so we bought a pair each, went back to the hotel, put them on, went out on the street – and we couldn’t handle it: ‘Do your feet feel like they are flapping? Feel more comfortable in me drainies, don’t you?’ So it was back to the hotel at a run, needle and cotton out and we took them in to a nice sixteen with which we were quite happy. And then we met Jürgen Vollmer on the street. He was still taking pictures." - Paul McCartney, Anthology

“Jürgen had a flattened-down hairstyle with a fringe in the front, which we rather took to. We went over to his place and there and then he cut – hacked would be a better word – our hair into the same style.” - John Lennon, 1963

Interviewer: I heard you took a trip to Spain before once, didn’t you? On Holiday? Paul: I didn’t go to Spain, no. I tried once to make Spain but… and John and I were gonna hitchhike. We hitchhiked down from Liverpool… We didn’t hitchhike. No, we got the train down from Liverpool ‘cause we thought we won’t hitchhike down the first bit. And we got the boat over to Paris. Then we got the train into Paris ‘cause we thought: “Well, it’ll be too hard to get a hitch here”. And we just stayed in Paris all week. And eventually… I mean, all the time trying to get out of Paris and make Spain! We never made it, we just flew home at the end. What a lazy hitchhiking Holiday!

“The thing was all the kissing and holding that was going on in Paris. And it was so romantic just to be there and see them even though I was 21 and sort of not romantic. But I really loved it, the way the people would just stand under a tree kissing. And they weren’t not mauling at each other, they were just kissing.” - John Lennon

"John’s 21st birthday was a month away, and he knew he was getting money — 100 pounds cash, more than he or Paul had ever seen in their lives. (…) Bob Wooler was party to their planning, and fought with them:

They were bored, and decided they would go away for a month. I thought this was disastrous because they would be away from the scene too long and lose their fans, Fans were very capricious: they moved from one group to another. And anyway, what about the other two members, George Harrison and Pete Best?. What about them, what do they do? We argued a lot about this — we argued in the back room of the grapes pub to a large extent —- and they said ‘Well, we’ll go away for a fortnight only’

(…) Equally, the promoters who paid the Beatles over-the-odds to present them every week had to “lump it” (….). To a man, and woman, they were incensed by it - but John and Paul hadn’t a care. They didn’t mean to be rude about it but basically it was tough shit.

it was tough too on Dot and Cyn, Dot simply had to accept the situation, but Cyn had a greater case of grievance. John was heading off without her when he could so easily gave waited for the art school holidays. (…).

That John was taking Paul, no one else, accentuates the renewed closeness since Stu quit The Beatles. They were the Beatles force, an unstoppable and authentically powerful pair. “Lennon had the attitude”, Wooler said, “and taking his lead from Lennon, McCartney could be similar. At times they reminded me of those well-to-do Chicago lads Leopold and Loeb, who killed someone because they felt superior to him. Lennon and McCartney were superior human beings”

"You’d always see them together, in the pub or walking along the street", says Johnny Gustafson of the Big Tree. "They were a duo, and seemed each other’s equal". Bernie Boyle, the young lad hanging around with them at every opportunity, says, "They were like brothers, with John as the elder and Paul’s mentor. They were so tight it was like there was a telepathy between them: on stage, they’d look at each other and know instinctively what the other was thinking"

They were brothers. They were the Nerk Twins, and now they were taking a break from The Beatles and gofin off to Spain. 

Gustafson happened to bump into them the day they left, Saturday, September 30. “They both had bowler hats on, with the usual leather jackets and jeans. They said they were off to Paris, so I walked down to Lime Street station and watched them go. They were an incredible pair: always great fun, irreverent and so close. - Mark Lewisohn, Tune In: The Beatles: All These Years (2013)

As was written in this post: That last picture is one Paul took of John sleeping in Paris. From what I remember of a performance he did of ‘Here Today’, and earlier comments, this picture hangs framed on a wall in Paul’s house.

Unconfirmed quote (may or may not be true): 

"He must have been fond of me to spend that money. He let me have all the banana milkshakes I wanted.”  - Paul McCartney

In January 1964, only a few scant weeks before the Beatles took America by storm, the band mates settled in for an extended stay in Paris. For the group, the Parisian visit proved to be a magical experience, with the Beatles playing 18 shows at the Olympia Theatre between Jan. 16 and Feb. 4 (source).

The Beatles were staying at the George V Hotel at the time. John and Paul composed "Can't Buy Me Love", "I Should Have Known Better" and "If I Fell" on the piano.

The photo Paul took of John (in the "Eyes Of The Storm" book):

1966: Paul, his girlfriend Maggie McGivern, John and Brian Epstein spend 5 days in Paris. "All of them flew into France separately — Lennon had been filming abroad and Epstein had been away on business. Maggie and Paul, she says, traveled apart ‘as part of keeping the relationship secret’. During the five-day trip the foursome stayed at the same Paris hotel where she and Paul shared a luxury suite. ‘It was a marvelous holiday,’ she says. ‘. . . just walking around the streets of Paris.‘My abiding memory is of me, John and Paul lying under the Eiffel Tower, gazing up at it. We couldn’t go up because we would have been recognised, and we were masters at the art of avoiding people." [x]

1969:

Hoping to get married in France, John Lennon and Yoko Ono flew to Paris on this day [16th March].

The couple had decided to marry on 14 March 1969, two days after the wedding of Paul McCartney to Linda Eastman; whether it was in response to this event on some level is open to conjecture.

On McCartney’s wedding day Lennon and Ono were travelling to Poole in Dorset, where he introduced her to his Aunt Mimi. During the journey he asked his chauffeur Les Anthony to go to Southampton to enquire about the possibility of the wedding being held at sea, on the cross-channel ferry to France.

(source)

“On March 12, Paul married Linda Eastman at Marylebone Register Office in London, amid scenes of hysterical grief from his female fans. None of the other Beatles was present. The news reached John as he and Yoko were driving down to visit Aunt Mimi in Poole. Yoko’s divorce decree had become final a few weeks earlier, and, in a resurgence of Beatle copycat, John told her they, too, must get married as soon as possible” - Philip Norman, John Lennon: The Life (2008)

"We chose Gibraltar because it is quiet, British and friendly. We tried everywhere else first. I set out to get married on the car ferry and we would have arrived in France married, but they wouldn’t do it. We were no more successful with cruise ships. We tried embassies, but three weeks’ residence in Germany or two weeks’ in France were required." - John Lennon

1974:

“After a late lunch, Linda launched into a long paean to the joys of living in England. When she was finished, she turned to John and said, “Don’t you miss England?”

“Frankly,” John replied, “I miss Paris.””

— May Pang, Loving John (1983)

1978:

Wings album "London Town" is released. It includes the song "Cafe on the Left Bank", the lyrics of which clearly refer to John and Paul's trip to Paris.

Late 1970s (maybe 1978?): John is singing to Paul about Paris in a home recording. Longer version

1970s: John writes "Skywriting by Word of Mouth", a book that would be released in 1986. One story is about sex he had with a woman in Paris. Here it is. As anon noticed here: "...the woman is called Amie L'Nitrate and Amyl Nitrate is a reference to poppers. He talks about grabbing her 'pomme de frites.' Her potatoes? He uses the term 'tread lightly on some loafers' which is an old euphenism for being gay. Amie says they should have sex to God Only Knows. Then John says their relationship ended in a seething rage but he still thinks of 'her.'" @sgtsaltsband concluded in the same post: "so he writes a story about PARIS ( where he and paul went on a trip for his 21st bday and never stopped talking about it ) , in the HOTEL where the Beatles stayed later on [Hotel V in 1964] , names the girl after POPPERS ( a drug commonly used by gay men during sex ) , the girl wants to have sex to PAULS fave song and he uses this PHRASE." Also: this is an excerpt of the story:

"Boogie" is a slang word for sex or dance (also, "Born to Boogie" is a 1972 movie starring Marc Bolan, Elton John and Ringo Starr). "Band on the Run" is a Paul McCartney and Wings' album which John loved. "Sue you sue me" can be a reference to to the Beatles' legal and business disputes and the fact that Paul sued John, George and Ringo in December 1970, and to "Sue Me, Sue You Blues", a song by George.

(thank you @menlove for uploading the story and pointing out interesting words!)

1994 - Paul inducting John to Rock and Roll Hall of Fame:

“And then on your 21st birthday you got £100 off one of your rich relatives up in Edinburgh, so we decided we’d go to Spain. So we hitch-hiked out of Liverpool. And we got as far as Paris, and decided to stop there for a week. And eventually got our haircut, by a fellow named Jürgen, and that ended up being the ‘Beatle haircut’.”

I also remember watching an interview with Paul about his album "Memory Almost Full" (2007). Thank you for adding, @ringompreg!

(it's like 7 minutes in) Interviewer: There is a very beautiful song called "The End Of The End", the way you talk about your whole ending, and the lyric goes: "It's a start of a journey to a much better place." You mean, better than England? Paul: It's basically a start of a journey to France. Or Spain through France. Yeah, that's what it is. It's a much better place, Paris.

Also worth mentoning:

"All You Need Is Love" begins with La Marseillaise.

"Picasso's Last Words (Drink To Me)" contains French-language speech by BBC broadcaster Pierre Le Sève.

Bonus

[ohmygraves]

there's this cafe near the base that soap likes to frequent. he's a regular, and he goes there everyday when he can. it's a nice, cozy cafe where he can sit back and relax, enjoying the quaint atmosphere away from sweaty soldiers running around the base. sometimes, he even brought price and ghost some coffee or tea, if they so prefer.

now, the base has a pretty great coffee machine, sure, but johnny likes to dabble on some other beverages. perhaps try some matcha latte or some hot chocolate, but if anyone asked him if he's there for the drinks, he would lie and nod at them, saying how the latte or the chocolate was the best thing he's ever tasted.

the drinks are amazing, don't get him wrong. the ingredients were high quality, and the prices were a little bit on the pricier side for a local coffee shop. but it was the cute barista that got him hooked in the first place.

you were the barista on the morning shift, and johnny would walk in at around 9am sharp if he could drop by. he'd always order whatever you recommend, being the lovestruck boy he is, and happily give them a try with your pastry of choice. and then, you'd always ask for his name, but he'd give you some funny names that would make you laugh instead. one time you asked him for his name, he'd say "pope turté the third" and you kept giggling while making his order. when you called the name of the order, it drew a laugh from everyone at the cafe, and johnny would proudly pick up his drink and pastry from you, giving you his signature smile before leaving.

it was just that, your whole friendship with him. he makes you laugh with his ridiculous names, and you'd make his drinks the way he asked you, perhaps give him a few cakes or pastries for free if you're feeling generous. both of you were too scared to go further, afraid of being too forward. but you knew that you adored him, and he adored you too.

so, the next time he comes over for a cuppa, you simply hand him a paper cup with a lid, already made fresh, together with a single croissant by the counter.

"thank ye, bonnie. hoo muckle?"

"seven quid with the pastry." you replied sweetly, a small smile on your face.

he happily paid for it with his card, handing it over to you. you processed it as he wanted, returning it with a receipt and his orders. as he bid you farewell, he took a sip of the cup, finding it to be a delicious hot chocolate, with some spices in it.

turning the cup, he sees his name, john, written on the paper cup with a marker, a heart as the "o". just below his name, a number with a "text me" was written, together with your own name.

somehow, his hot chocolate tasted sweeter than usual.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

141 Headcanons: Going Shopping

Grocery/Food Shopping

John Price loves being the one in charge of the buggy/shopping cart. He loves being the one pushing it, holding the list, and watching you walk ahead all pretty, plucking whatever you'd like to buy onto the cart. He also has a natural eye for deals and sales, and knows when something is actually for sale or when the shop is trying to lie to you.

Johnny MacTavish is a menace when he's shopping. With or without you, he's definitely straying from the list and the budget. He's definitely the type to go shopping while hungry and ends up getting too many snacks, or buys seasonal products that you don't need but that "will get rotated out" of the shop so he better buy them Now.

Kyle Garrick makes a whole day out of going shopping. He'll disappear while you're getting a cart and come back with Starbucks or a cold drink of some kind for you to sip on while you go along and buy whatever you need for the house. He's also very efficient, so he bags everything very well, heavy stuff on the bottom, light/fragile on top, and, especially, all the cold/frozen things together.

Simon Riley is too efficient. It's almost scary. He goes in and out of the shop in record time and doesn't even let himself be affected by sales, new products, limited-time-only displays... Nothing. He follows the list to a T and would rather go inside alone than have you follow him and slow him down. But that also makes him an ass and he'll definitely realize you forgot to add something to the list, but will STILL not stray from his 'route' to go get it. If you wanted it, you should've written it down.

VS.

Clothes' Shopping

John Price is of the opinion that all his clothes are fine and, therefore, he doesn't particularly need new ones. That being said, he does know all his sizes and measurements, and won't be opposed to getting news shoes or a new button-up every once in a while. He's also very much the type that'll give you his honest (and sometimes hurtful) opinion on the fit of the clothes you're trying on and sincerely suggest you try the size up/down.

Johnny MacTavish doesn't really like buying new clothes, though he can be convinced... if you promise him you'll go to a lingerie shop and pick out something sexy to wear just for him, he'll let you take him to Levi's or what have you to get him new clothes. That being said, he is the type who, when you're trying to find his size, will fuck off and disappear, only for you to find him by the till, looking at the male jewelry displays and analyzing all the chains and bracelets and cheap watches.

Kyle Garrick is a sweetheart to shop with. He has a good sense of what looks good and what doesn't, and knows the basic of 'big prints work well with small prints and with plain colours', even if he doesn't really wear much of either. He also knows about colour blocking, funnily enough. He loves when his sweetheart tries things out in the dressing rooms just for him.

Simon Riley is the worst person to go shopping with. Be it for yourself or for him. He hates waiting around as you skim the clothes' racks... He'd rather sit outside in the Husband Chair™️ until you're done. And if you try to drag him to a male clothing shop to buy him stuff? He'll complain the whole time about the price and the quality. "Why would I pay 15 quid for a t-shirt when I can put in an order and get 5 shirts from the Army for free, da'lin'?"

[charliemwrites]

Thinking about Mister(s) Steal your Girl universe and how maybe the first time Gaz and Johnny introduce you to Simon and Price in a pub with a pool table. And Johnnys so eager to get you over to it so he bend you over and press up behind you to “help you with ya form of course, bonnie lass, am a gentleman” except when you start, johnny goes in all cocky and overconfident and lets you break, watching in horror as like half of the striped balls sink into pockets and he realises with his mouth hung open that you just absolutely hustled him for the fifty quid he promised you if you win. And Simon’s just lurking watching as you round the table for your second shot, not even looking anywhere but the pool table as you casually tell Johnny to “put your tongue back in your mouth, you’ll catch flies” and bend back over to take another perfect shot. And Simon just decided right then and there that he’s in love.

Also I found your blog yesterday at like 5pm and stayed up till 3 absolutely bingeing on your entire masterlist. I love your writing so much ❤️ thank you so much for giving us this daily bread amen 🙏

FIVE TO THREE?!?! I’m swooning, that’s such a compliment 😭

I definitely think there will be some sort of group date scenario like this in the future. Nothing hotter than a bunch of dudes spoiling their girl in public 🥵

[soaqrudyz]

they’re in the rec room one dreary afternoon, rain is pouring outside, shaking the walls of the base, and all soap really wanted was a cigarette. he’d been stressed, needlessly, helplessly, and now his one healthy means of escapism is gone, too. he’s about ready to explode, pacing the room like a caged animal, muttering senseless complaints and half baked sentences under his breath.

he’s startled out of his back and forth pace by gaz’s hand on his chest. a snarl finds its way to his lips and he has to fight to keep from spewing all the nasty, venomous thoughts that lay behind his lips.

“you need to chill out, mate” gaz drawls, pushing him ever so slightly backwards. his feet follow, trusting, even through his sour disposition.

“think i don’t know that?” he snaps, “i fuckin’ can’t.”

“that’s why i’m here to help. you’re bringing the whole base down, and you’ll wear a hole in the floor with all that stomping around.”

they walk back until soap is knocked onto the ratty sofa that price found god knows where. gaz maneuvers soap’s head to rest on the arm, his muscles wound tight despite being stretched out. he’s angry. angry and confused and he didn’t fucking like the rain, why did it always have to rain?

“ghost.” gaz calls, and soap notices his looming presence for the first time that day. which was a little shocking, considering the fact that soap could (and had, he’d won 70 quid off the stupid bet) pick ghost out in a crowd blindfolded just from the feeling of his stare alone.

soap realizes he might’ve been more out of it than he realized. the embarrassment only makes his blood run hotter.

“this some sort of intervention?” he growled, hands balled into tight fists.

gaz rolls his eyes and leaves, muttering a quiet “good luck with that.” to ghost and patting his shoulder as he passed.

his brain was a mess, he needed to get back up, needed to do something, fucking anything. the restlessness makes his fingers twitch, makes him burn from the inside out, he’s so god damn angry he could burst into flames.

and then ghost flops down right on top of him, and everything but the roiling thunder outside goes quiet. ghost is a big guy, pure muscle with a (very attractive) bit of fat around his middle. he was twice, maybe three times soap’s weight, no matter how much bulk he was putting on.

he’s overwhelmed by the man. his hands and legs are completely pinned. the weight on his chest forces him to take deeper breaths, which, in turn, make his tense muscles relax. the smell of ghost’s shampoo and detergent makes him dizzy, the soft cotton of his balaclava rubs against his cheek, and soap is mortified to find out he’s getting sleepy.

his eyes try to close, but he jerks himself awake each time. ghost is warm. like a big fuzzy blanket fresh out of the dyer, and really after the day he had, who could blame him for letting go for a minute?

“feels nice..” he slurs, eyes slipping shut again, but this time he doesn’t bother prying them back open.

“go to sleep, johnny.” ghost sighs, an exasperated little thing, and soap can feel the vibration of his voice all the way down to the tips of his toes.

he listens, if not only because it was raining outside and he couldn’t smoke a cigarette.

[peachetteprice]

Unfortunately, I may be slightly obsessed with the idea of a sleepy Scottish town nigh in the middle of nowhere, frequented almost exclusively by locals, hikers, sight-seers, and one nostalgia-driven, obscenely-chatty Johnny MacTavish, who never ceases to hit on you as you work behind the bar, giving him a rare laugh or a bloated compliment if he seems down on his luck.

He asks for the same drink whenever he's in town – which is sporadic and unpredictable at best – the largest pint of beer, filled by your hands only, and always overpays for it if it means putting an extra couple of quid in your pocket. When he leaves, he gives the pub-owner, Steve-o, a pat on the back, a healthy jab in the ribs and a cheeky grin – Steve-o says they go 'way back', though you don't think Johnny is quite old enough for that to be entirely true – before walking home in just a short-sleeved blue shirt and jeans, as he does every night, no matter the weather (rain, snow, ice, hail, thunderstorm, even the occasional bout of evening sunshine) even if you offer him a ride home when you're finished with your shift, even if he declines it the first two times.

You have to practically beg to drive him home when the river running through the village reaches breaking point, bursting its banks at sun-down and threatening to take the whole town with it, because you're sure it won't stop at a 6'2, 210 lb hunk of human flesh, even if he asserts he's 'sturdy enough' to outlast the flooding.

You have no idea how badly I want to make this a series... and I may or may not have begun a chapter... obsessed with small-town love with a man who never tells you whether he's staying or leaving.

| Masterlist |

[bubuslutty]

omg its me the pec lover 🫣sorry yes 141😭 forgot to put who mwehehehhe

hey anon! thanks for this delicious ask!!

pairing: gn reader x (platonic? romantic? you decide) John Price, Simon Riley, Soap Mactavish, Kyle Garrick

warnings: none

price:

I know for a fact this man has a hairy chest. not TOO hairy. but hairy enough to be ticklish when you lay your cheek on it when he's shirtless.

and he has massive man boobs.

I said what I said.

reader would 100% randomly go up to him, asking for a hug or for comfort. and because price is price, he'll wrap an arm around them, to comfort them.

but what he doesn't expect is them just shoving their face between his pecs and groaning, the sound muffled by the material of his shirt.

and he's just standing there like 🧍‍♀️

and he smells nice, like cologne, soap, his own musk, tobacco sometimes when he's stressed and a hint of sweat.

when reader first ever did it, he almost died of embarrassment and confusion, but quickly got his shit together.

he couldn't even pull them away from him, he didn't really feel like it actually, because it looked like the reader was having a great time.

So now don't be surprised when u catch the captain laying somewhere, trying to take a nap with reader on him, face buried between his pecs, arms straight down their body, and sleeping as if it's the most comfortable position on earth.

ghost:

the first time reader buried their face in Ghost's pecs was in the excuse of a hug. it was easy, really, whining and just falling face first on him. and he didn't mind at first because in his head reader was gonna get up after like a couple of seconds. but they DIDN'T.

and Ghost was confused n lowkey suspicious, so he grabbed them by the back of their shirt, like a baby kitten, with one hand and ripped their face away from his chest.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing" 😇

Ghost simply placed them back on the ground and eyed them up and down, then left.

but reader was on a fucking mission, so anytime they had an opportunity to lay on ghost, they would, be it in the Heli, in hideouts, in the base, anywhere. until ghost has had enough.

"Bloody hell- what do you want?"

"Can I cuddle you on your chest, please? 😔🙏"

ghost just stared at them in complete silence. and when he didn't say anything for a whole minute straight, reader added, "I'll give you 10 quid."

"Keep your money." and he wrapped an arm around their neck and brought them straight to his chest, choking them for a minute.

and reader was in heaven, with their arms wrapped around as much as of him as possible.

"Thanks-"

"Shut up."

Johnny:

soap in my head is already very friendly and pretty physical with the people he cares abt. so it's not an unusual sight to see him hanging out with reader, on a couch, or on a bed, watching a movie on a laptop.

and he loves cuddling when the weather is cold enough, so they'd be tangled in each other, watching whatever movie is playing on the small screen while reader is drawing random patterns on his chest with their finger.

if reader is tired, they'll bury their face in his neck at first, trying to get comfortable and go to sleep. or they'll gradually slide down his body and end up with their face pressed against the swell of his pecs.

"They're soft. like pillows." reader would point out while wiggling around, trying to get comfortable.

"Yeah? they are?" Soap would laugh and puff out his chest, making the reader's head bounce a little and they'll laugh and then whine, "Stop it, I want to sleep."

soap would pat their head, "Use the bed, then."

"Nah, you're way better than a bed."

"Thanks?"

gaz:

when gaz noticed the small obsession reader has with his guy's pecs. he knew he was next.

So he was basically a bit nervous n hot around the collar when he found himself and his guys being squeezed into a car, bullets raining down on them.

and there wasn't enough seats in the thing, so reader had to sit on him, chest to back while shooting out of the window.

"You good?" They shouted above the utter chaos outside as Ghost tried to drive them to safety, with soap screaming at how he should've been the one driving instead.

"Yeah!" Gaz shouted back.

and when they were far enough that gunshots sounded so far away, reader took off their helmet and leaned back against Gaz with a deep sigh.

"You're comfy." They said with their eyes closed.

"Am I?"

"Uhum."

Gaz didn't miss how they would rub the back of their head against his chest, or how they would turn their head to the side and try to bury their face between his pecs, even though it was practically impossible in the tiny space the car had.

but you better believe reader tried anyway.

and the whole time he was flustered, trying to act as normal as possible, squeezing their shoulder once while they sagged against him.

I hope you liked this anon! I tried my best 😋

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @obiwankenobis-lap @goapgrim @smalldemonlover @silviafantin15 @reveluving @bobastayhigh @originalsimp @h-leigh @gxldyjess @msdrpreist @chaoticevilbakugo @Lacunaanonymoused @whore4dilfs

[darth-mortem]

Finally, I wrote a new text for my English lessons! It's about all TF 141, and it's funny and a little hot.

In this fic Captain Price started a fight for the purity of the language in TF 141 before the visit of generals with inspection. 1846 words.

TW: obscene language

Captain Price went to look for his soldiers around the base and expectedly found them in the smoking area. They chased the rookies away and sat down on the benches with cups of tea and coffee. To tell the truth, they had the right to rest: TF 141 had just returned from the mission in the morning. Therefore, the captain didn’t focus on the behavior of his soldiers, but instead he said something else.

“Well, well, lads,” Price said as he looked at them, lighting his cigar. “An inspection commission is coming to our base in four days. So I want you to watch your language and to stop cursing.”

You can keep reading on Ao3 or here

“Oh, shit!” Gaz exclaimed.

“Fucking hell,” Ghost shook his head.

“Oh, thay kin awa’ and chew mah banger!” Soap added, and aggressively sipped his coffee.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” Price said, sighing heavily.

All four looked at each other, and then Soap rolled his eyes and let out a loud groan.

Of course, Price understood that a request and even an order wouldn’t be enough to achieve such a difficult goal as purity of language. That’s why he resorted to some measures that could help. When Ghost, Soap, and Gaz returned to their task force’s break room, they saw a jar with a label in Price’s handwriting on it.

“One curse—one quid,” Gaz read and turned to the others. “Hey, mates, what the fuck?”

“You cursed,” Ghost said thoughtfully, “so you have to put a quid in this bloody jar.”

“Ye too, Lt.!” Soap laughed. “Yer stupid arseholes, guys!”

Simon and Kyle stared at him, and Johnny suddenly stopped laughing. Then each of them threw a coin into the jar in dead silence. Of course, they all had something to say, but no one wanted to part with the money, so the lieutenant and two sergeants stayed quiet. That’s how they were found by Price, who went into the room to make himself a cup of tea.

“Oh, I see you’ve already figured out how it works,” the captain said, turning on an electric kettle.

“Actually not at all,” the lieutenant answered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do we have to bring coins here if we curse outside the room?”

“Of course you are, Simon,” Price said. “I count on your honesty, lads.”

“Oh, shit,” Gaz sighed sadly.

“Hey! Watch your fucking language, Kyle!” The captain exclaimed.

There was silence for a few seconds. Then MacTavish laughed, looking at Price and Garrick, who threw their coins into the jar.

This evening, when TF 141 gathered in the break room for tea and biscuits according to their tradition, everyone saw that the jar was stuffed, and it contained not only coins but also banknotes. Price stared at it, slowly removed his hat, and rubbed the back of his head.

“Looks like it’s not working,” MacTavish commented, pulling a box of chocolate chip cookies from the cupboard.

"Looks like we need a bigger jar,” Price denied grimly.

“F…” Riley started, and noticed the others staring at him. “Fine!”

Garrick shook his head and began to pour boiling water into cups.

During evening tea, the four soldiers talked and laughed a lot, usually, but not today. They exchanged a few words, added coins to the jar, and quickly left. However, fifteen minutes later, Soap slipped into Ghost’s room, and Gaz performed a similar maneuver, finding himself in Captain Price’s. They saw each other in the corridor, but both pretended that they didn’t.

For a while, Price and Garrick forgot about the jar, and they didn’t feel like talking at all. The sergeant’s mouth was occupied with kisses at first, and then with something else instead. Only when Kyle was in bed, pressed against the mattress by the stocky, hot captain’s body, he finally spoke.

“Oh, fuck…” He exhaled, melting as Price kissed his neck, scratching the skin with the stiff bristles. “It’s so fucking good, John! Oh… should I put the coins in the jar?"

“Mmm… of course!” The captain answered, caressing Kyle with his hand.

“But John!” The sergeant exclaimed resentfully.

“No buts,” Price said, shaking his head. “I must have principles.”

“Well,” Garrick hugged him tighter and threw his leg on the captain’s thigh, “then I’ll make you pay more than me!”

A similar thing was happening in Lieutenant Riley’s room. In the beginning, Ghost tried to cover Soap’s mouth with his palm or kiss him to silence his voice, but then he forgot about it. Johnny was so hot and willing to do anything for him, so Simon focused on giving him as much pleasure as possible. MacTavish had always been noisy in bed, so even now he was moaning and cursing as he squirmed under the stocky lieutenant, and Ghost enjoyed it. He remained as quiet as ever; only his heavy, hoarse breathing indicated that he also felt good.

Later, when they both got dressed and stood by the window smoking, breaking base’s rules, Soap looked at Ghost and said:

“You made me swear a lot, sae ye have tae pay for me.”

“Negative,” the lieutenant answered.

Soap pouted but didn’t argue, so they returned to bed and quickly fell asleep.

In the morning, Gaz was the last to come to the break room. Glancing at Captain Price, he went over to the new, larger jar and silently put a handful of coins into it.

“Well, well,” Soap reacted immediately, “somebody had a hot night?”

“Yeah!” Gaz answered, annoyed. “And what about you? I can’t believe you were just sleeping!”

Soap sighed heavily, went over to the jar, and put coins in it too. Price and Riley looked at each other and smiled.

The next few days proved difficult for all members of TF 141. One evening, Ghost came to the room, angry and annoyed. He clearly didn’t want to talk, but the others started asking questions, and he gave up. After sipping his tea, the lieutenant put a fifty-pound banknote into the jar and said:

“I trained rookies today.”

Then he thought a little, put in another twenty pounds, and began to tell his story. Price tried to react silently, but the sergeants didn’t skimp on comments and added approximately the same amount to Riley’s deposit.

Another day, the captain himself became a victim of his own invention. Price was doing the paperwork, clearing the entire backlog on mission reports and equipment requisitions, and he was infuriated both by the amount of documents that were simply missing and by the level of the Army bureaucracy.

“Soap, you muppet!” He spoke angrily. “Why did you take so many fucking explosives and didn’t write bloody requests?!”

“Sorry, Cap, I forgot,” Johnny answered, hiding behind Simon.

Gaz laughed and drew the captain’s attention to him.

“And you, little trick-headed bastard,” Price looked at Garrick strictly. “Why does your sniper training ammo request say ‘200’? Did you learn from scratch?!”

“Oh… Maybe I wrote an extra zero accidentally." Kyle was embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Cap.”

“Sometimes I hate you so much, lads,” Price said, shaking his head. “Except for Simon. His papers are always in perfect order.”

“Thank you, sir," Ghost answered, looking at the sergeants haughtily.

When the inspection day finally arrived, all members of TF 141 were almost happy. Several generals from different NATO countries respectfully walked around, accompanied by local officers, and looked at the soldiers’ training, the base’s infrastructure, and the condition of the buildings and equipment. One of them, the Canadian general, was particularly impressed by the drill of the Scottish unit, where soldiers marched on the square in kilts.

“It looks so fucking pretty,” he said with enjoyment. “Just look at them, Marv!”

“Don’t be such a dickhead, Ethan,” Marv, the USA general, rolled his eyes. “Focus on the inspection!”

Captain Price, who was one of the accompanying officers, carefully held his emotions and looked away, but it didn’t end there. At the shooting range, the commission ran into Ghost, Soap, and Gaz, who were on their way to training. Having saluted according to the statute, the soldiers of TF 141 moved on and clearly heard the words spoken by one of the generals.

“Have you seen this guy in a skull mask?” he asked. “He’s a fucking terminator!”

MacTavish coughed hard, and Garrick elbowed him in the side.

Later, the generals wanted to see the barracks, and soon they reached the residential block where the soldiers of TF 141 lived. After inspecting the sergeants’ rooms, they went into the recreation room, where Ghost was going through some documents and drinking tea.

“Carry on!” The German general ordered before Ghost stood up and saluted.

Price and Riley watched as the commission inspected their room, looking at the maps and photos on the walls, and appreciating cleanliness. Finally, someone noticed the jar, and the generals crowded around it.

“Look, Ethan,” the USA general said to his Canadian colleague, “it’s a fucking good idea!”

Ghost coughed, and everyone turned to him. Under his sinister, icy gaze, the USA general got confused; then he patted his jacket pockets and pulled out a coin.

“I don’t have a quid,” he said. “Will a dollar do?”

“Aye, sir!” Lieutenant Riley answered strictly, and the general put his coin into the jar.

When the inspection left the base, the jar disappeared, and the members of TF 141 breathed a sigh of relief. They were so happy that they didn’t even ask where all the collected money went. However, the answer to this question was soon received. One cold, rainy evening, Captain Price entered the break room and placed a bottle of good whiskey and a large bag of various delicacies on the table.

“Och, what’s th’ reason?” Soap asked and jumped up to get glasses from the cupboard. “Did someone die? Or mibbie born?”

“Shut the fuck up, Soap,” the captain answered cheerfully. “I decided that spending money from the swear jar on a small feast was a good idea. And our base passed the inspection perfectly; it’s not a bad reason.”

The soldiers perked up and stirred as they took out plates and spread the goodies that Price had bought for them.

“Hey, Simon,” the captain called, and the lieutenant approached him. “That general fooled you. Here, take a look.”

Price placed a coin in Riley’s palm. It wasn’t a dollar, but fifty cents.

“Arsehole!” Ghost exclaimed angrily, looking at the coin.

“Fuck him,” Johnny gasped with his hand and poured the whiskey into the glasses. “C'moan, guys, let’s drink!”

All four sat down at the table, and soon the usual cheerful and warm atmosphere reigned in the room. The soldiers were talking, recalling funny incidents from their missions, drinking whiskey, and eating delicious snacks. Soap rested his head on Ghost’s shoulder, and Price carelessly hugged Gaz, stroking the back of his head.

“Th’ idea wi’ that jar wasn’t sae terrible,” MacTavish said, enjoying the cured meat and the lieutenant’s tight embrace. "Mibbie, we can repeat it somehow?" “No!” Price, Riley, and Gaz answered in unison, and then all four laughed loudly.