#sas:rh

[spikedfearn]

pegging Paddy Mayne 🙂‍↕️

You’d never seen him like this.

Not in the field, not in a fight, not even in the privacy of that hotel room in Cairo where he first unbuttoned your blouse with his teeth and left you marked up like a stolen relic.

No, this—this was something else entirely.

Paddy Mayne was naked in a way that had nothing to do with skin. Braced on his elbows, spine bowed low, thighs trembling beneath the strain of submission. His hands clenched the sheets like he needed something to hold onto, and all that bravado, all that legendary fury and lion-hearted rebellion he was known for, melted under the weight of what you were doing to him.

And you hadn’t even started yet.

You trailed your fingers down the broad line of his back, over the constellation of old bruises and battlefield scars etched into him like proof of every time he’d survived what should’ve killed him. He twitched under your touch—not in fear, but in anticipation. Every breath he took was tight and ragged, like he couldn’t get enough air. And maybe he couldn’t. Not with how hard he was clenching his jaw. Not with how deeply he was in his own head about what he was about to give up.

“You sure?” you murmured, voice low and hot against his ear. You felt him flinch, then nod—sharp and stubborn. Like if he spoke, he might shatter the spell he’d allowed to fall over himself.

You smirked, leaned down, and bit his shoulder. Not gently.

“Use your words, soldier.”

“…Fuckin’ sure,” he muttered, voice like gravel dragged over broken glass. “Get on with it.”

Oh, he was still trying to be tough. Of course he was. You kissed down his spine slowly, letting him feel every inch of your mouth, every tease of your tongue, while your gloved hand slicked lube over the silicone length. Paddy’s whole body jerked when he heard the wet sound of it—when the cold tip grazed the cleft of his arse and settled right against the tightest part of him.

You didn’t push. Not yet.

“Breathe, Paddy.”

“I am—”

“No, you’re bracing. Not the same.”

He exhaled hard through his nose. You watched the way his shoulders eased, just barely. How he shifted, offering more, even when it made him feel raw. Vulnerable. Exposed.

And then you began.

Slow, steady pressure. Not even inside him yet—just rocking the head of the toy against him, watching the tension ripple through his back like a tremor. He hissed, clenched, tried to hold it back. His thighs shook harder, and he let out a choked grunt when the tip finally slipped past that first resistance.

“Jesus,” he gasped.

You stroked his lower back, soothing, grounding. “That’s it, Paddy. You’re doing so good for me.”

He shuddered at that, like the praise hit deeper than the stretch. And it did, didn’t it? Of course it did. You’d learned a long time ago that under all that fury, Paddy Mayne bled like anyone else—starved for affection, for someone who’d look past the war hero and see the man beneath. The man who wanted to be ruined, just once, without being broken.

You pressed deeper. Every inch coaxed out of him with care and cruelty in equal measure. He cursed like it hurt and moaned like it didn’t. By the time you were fully inside him, his arms had given out. He collapsed onto the sheets, panting hard, hips canting back like he didn’t know whether he wanted more or needed to run from it.

You didn’t give him the choice.

You fucked him slow. Deep. Obscene. Dragging out each thrust so he could feel the length of it leave him, feel the absence, then take it again—until his knees scraped the bed, until his cock dripped against his belly and his voice went wrecked and hoarse with filthy little noises he couldn’t bite down anymore.

He didn’t beg. Paddy Mayne didn’t beg.

But when you reached down, wrapped your hand around his cock—already flushed and leaking like it couldn’t take another second of this—he whimpered. Low and guttural. Just once. But it was enough.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” you teased. “Gonna come from being fucked like this?”

“Shut up,” he rasped, but his hips didn’t stop rocking back onto you, greedy and desperate.

“You feel so good, Paddy. Taking it so well. Never thought I’d see you like this—wrecked and aching just to be filled."

He groaned, long and low, forehead pressed into the sheets, mouth slack. You stroked him harder now, matching the pace of your thrusts, giving him no relief, no mercy. Just the slick sound of your bodies meeting and the wet slap of his cock in your fist.

“Say it,” you whispered, right against his ear. “Say you need it.”

His voice broke. “Need it.”

“Say you want it.”

“…Want it. Jesus, I want it—don’t stop—don’t fuckin’ stop—”

You didn’t.

And when he came, it was violent. A grunt torn from deep in his chest, his whole body locking up and shuddering through the release, hips still jerking back into you like he didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. You worked him through it, slow and punishing, until the tension bled out of him in waves.

After, he collapsed—sweaty, panting, twitching with aftershocks. You didn’t pull out. Not yet. Just laid over his back, kissing the nape of his neck while he came down from whatever edge you’d just dragged him over.

“You’re mine like this,” you murmured.

He didn’t argue.

Couldn’t.

Not with your cock still buried inside him.

Not when every inch of him was screaming yes.

[poetmayne]

sometimes I forget that he is a deadly kitten

[scannainscanrula]

i'll settle for the ghost of you

paddy mayne x reader (mdni)

"You are not Eoin. He is not Eoin either. But together you are two people who loved him very much. Even with him missing, you still care for each other."

author's note: haigh tumblrinas. first fic on here. (not beta read, feel free to point out any mistakes) just been watching sas:rh and jack oconnell is so killer as paddy mayne. i do respect that the character is queer, hope this is a happy medium (happy pride month from a humble lesbian)

warnings: grief, hand stuff mostly, both reader and paddy have been drinking so the consent is blurry

grma for reading let me know if yous want more

You stumble into your tent. You feel flushed and foolish. Paddy follows behind you, trudging along like an old dog. He calls it “tucking you in”, which just means sitting by your bedside and reciting his poetry for you. Sometimes you read something to him, or tell him a story about home. You do this often, but tonight you feel different. You’re like a telegraph machine, your body sending electric morse code signals from your fingers to your toes.

Tonight, you flirted with Kershaw and Riley– they reciprocated– but your eyes were on Paddy. Tonight you can only remember the way Eoin used to blush and grin at your compliments.

“Come to tuck me in?”

“Oh, you’re drunk, girl.”

Paddy never calls you girl to be demeaning. It’s almost affectionate, the way he says it. You know the men of the SAS care for you, but you’ve known Paddy longer. It was something like an older brother at first, but now you two are something else. Eoin was a lighthouse, and you are two lost ships at sea, passing each other in the night.

Bound to crash.

“I had one beer,” you argue.

You love to argue, and it was true. You only drank one beer. Paddy had snatched the second one from your hands and drank it himself.

“Aye, and a sip of rum.”

Or three, but who was counting?

You bite your lip, staring at him with a strange look on your face.

“Have you got somethin’ to say?”

You touch his face, tilting your head.

“You’re so sad.”

You would never say this sober. You would never approach him with so much emotion. You know he’s not like that, that he keeps his feelings close to the chest. He tries to shrug your hand off but you step closer. There is a centimeter of space between you.

“I want you,” you tell him.

“You don’t want me,” he refutes, shaking his head.

He’s right.

“You’re right, I don’t,” you admit honestly. “I wanted Eoin.”

You give him a different look. A knowing one.

“Paddy,” you breathe softly.

You are not Eoin. He is not Eoin either. But together you are two people who loved him very much. Even with him missing, you still care for each other.

“This ain’t how it works.”

“Just close your eyes.”

Your hand trails down his chest and a finger hooks in his shorts.

“Close your eyes, Paddy,” you whisper in his ear, kissing his cheek.

He moves further into the tent and leads you to your cot, taking a seat at the edge. You sit by his side on your knees, legs tucked to the side. He feels you pressing kisses to his jaw as your fingers undo the button and zipper at his waist. He’s felt your hands a thousand times, stitching cuts or bandaging wounds. It’s usually accompanied by muttered foul language, which would make him laugh. Deft fingers slip under his waistband and pull him out. He isn’t hard yet, which makes him look away.

“I can handle that.”

You hold out your hand.

“Spit.”

He looks at you and you raise your brows.

He spits onto your hand, rolling his eyes.

The whole thing feels useless.

Then you grip him. Not too tight, but not daintily. With the aid of the spit, you slide your hand down to the base of him and twist it up as you reach the head, the soft pad of your thumb swiping over his tip and making him flinch.

“There we go.”

“Fuck,” he grunts.

He’s hard now, cock twitching in your hand.

“Do you ever clean yourself?” you joke lightly, your head tucked into the crook of his neck.

He chuckles and groans, feeling your grip tighten.

“I’ll put it in my mouth if you wash up next time.”

Next time. The words rattle around in his head.

He puts a hand on your thigh and your eyes flick up.

“I know your hands are dirty too, and I’d really rather not deal with an infection in the middle of the desert,” you tell him earnestly.

You remember the night the lads left for Kabrit.

You sat perched next to Eoin on his cot, your ankles crossed demurely. You admired him. You loved Eoin. You loved his gentleness and his kindness, and the sweet smile that stayed on his face as he cradled your hand in his own, tracing the lines on your palm. It was almost more intimate than anything you could have been doing with your clothes off. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered as you saw him tracing his name.

E-O-I-N

“Marking your territory?”

“I’ll miss you,” he admitted, meeting your eyes.

Eoin was like a kicked puppy, his big brown eyes looked through you, right into that ugly part of your soul.

“I’ll miss you, too.”

“You’ll miss Paddy more.”

“Only because I’ll have lost my attack dog.”

“You can handle yourself.”

“I know what I can handle, Eoin,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “Please be careful.”

“I trust Paddy, and Stirling.”

“When you boys set up, they’ll come and fetch me.”

You smirked against the shell of his ear.

“And perhaps you and I can break in a cot.”

You stood up and he watched you leave. You passed Paddy at the outside of the tent.

“Give him somethin’ to remember?”

“Do I detect jealousy, Paddy?”

Paddy took a long drag off his cigarette.

“You fuckin’ wish, girl,” he said, his voice clouded by smoke.

You giggled at that. It made your face hot and your knees weak.

“You’re somehow more charming when you’re abrasive.”

You patted his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll miss you too, you Irish dog.”

Paddy can be a good dog.

Not allowed to touch you, he leans forward to give you a soft kiss. You smile against his mouth and lean into the kiss.

He kisses your jaw and neck, gently tugging your forward to sit on top of him.

“Your beard is so scratchy,” you giggle, continuing to stroke him as you settle on his muscular thigh.

The pressure is delicious, something you’ve been seeking. Your last encounter was a brief and sweaty affair with a lad you knew from home, just before they shipped you out to North Africa. You were meat in Cairo, just like every boy sent to die in the sand.

You gasp, a pretty little sound Paddy likes. He can’t deny you’re an attractive girl. Your spit-slick lips and your eyes sparkle in the low gas light of your tent.

“You go ahead ‘n just… take what you need, girl,” he tells you in a low voice.

You nod, lifting yourself up to grind down on his leg, taking a shaky breath as you do. The friction is something you’ve been desperate for, something your fingers can’t provide. And Paddy is a man, a real man who cares about you. Your stomach is a boiling pot and you can’t think of anything but your own pleasure. Your grip on Paddy’s cock loosens as you chase your release.

“Feels good?”

His voice snaps you back.

“I-I haven’t… since I’ve been in Africa…”

Paddy can halfway believe that. As lovely as you are, you’re a terrible insubordinate to the officers and you talk to soldiers like they’re dogs. It’s what made him like you so much in the first place.

You whimper as he puts a hand on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

You bite your lip and he feels something on his thigh. He glances down to see the wet fabric clinging to your cunt and a darkened spot on his shorts.

“I think you’re staining my shorts,” he teases.

Your face heats.

“I-I’m sorry, sh-should I stop?” you stammer.

“Nah, keep goin’,” he encourages.

You could die of embarrassment, but you’re so wet and it’s helping you slide along Paddy’s flexed thigh. The friction is what’s sparking the fire in your belly, but that uncomfortable drag was torture on your sensitive bud of nerves. The angle your hips stay at is tiring, and you’re longing for Paddy to grab them and do it for you.

You tremble, though your hand stays steady. You try to time your strokes with the rocking of your hips. You see Eoin’s sweet face, the little blush on his cheeks when you kissed him after two whiskeys. When Eoin had fallen asleep in your cot as Paddy spent another night in jail– this time he had knocked the tooth out of a sergeant who had grabbed at your arse. You’d crawled in next to him and woken up alone, finding him on the floor, stiff as a board.

Paddy can see you falling apart. He can see the way your eyes are focused on nothing and that you’ve drawn blood from your lip by biting it so hard. He can feel the gush of your wetness through his shorts. He wonders if you’re thinking about Eoin. He can remember the nights where they would linger in your tent too long, and Eoin would toss and turn in his cot dreaming about you.

Paddy wonders what it would’ve looked like for a gentle man like Eoin to please you. To fill you up the way you need and press nicely on that button. How lovingly you’d look up at him while he coaxed a climax with his fingers. Would he kiss your soft thighs as you trembled? Would confessions of love spill from your lips while he took you apart with his mouth?

He briefly wonders how a cruel man would treat you. He knows you love to fight, love to put men in their place, but maybe you’d like a man to do it to you. To have a man bend you over and smack your arse and call you a bitch.

You are a bitch, but you’re his, just like he’s your dog.

He grips your wrist, making you wince.

“Ow, Paddy-”

“Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he growls.

You nod feverishly, stroking him hard and fast as you rock your hips quickly.

“Oh- fuck, Paddy,” you grit, tucking your face into his neck.

The cable inside of you snaps. It feels like riding a truck in the desert, shaking and being tossed around. Every part of you is flaming, and you feel like you could cry.

Your back arches and you gasp, twitching against his thigh. You are crying, you realise, hot tears stream down your face. He feels another wave of wetness soak the fabric and jolts, bucking his hips into your hand.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts.

He spills onto your hand and his own, and his vision goes white.

“Fuck,” he snarls, shaking head as his eyes squeeze shut.

You both breath for a moment, stuck as you are.

“Paddy, th-that hurts,” you croak, pushing at his hand on your wrist.

He releases his grip and you sniff.

“I think you bruised me…”

He holds your wrist up and kisses the little marks in the pattern of his grip.

“Sorry.”

You stand up on wobbling legs and grimace when you see the large wet spot you left. You cover your face with your clean hand.

“Oh, God. I’m sorry.”

He admires you for a moment, flush-faced and panting. You’re mortified, but it’s very charming.

“I’m sure everyone heard that,” you lament, cleaning your hands in the water basin.

“They all think we’re fuckin’ anyway.”

You laugh at that, a low raspy sound. He cleans off too, adjusting himself in his shorts.

“Thank you,” you sniffle, wiping at your eyes.

“Better it’s me than any of the dumb cunts out there,” he jokes lightly.

“I mean it. Thank you.”

He kisses your head, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“Anytime, girl.”

“If you’d… like to do it again. You know where to find me,” you offer.

You sound too eager. He smiles at you anyway.

“I just might, Nurse. G’night.”

“Goodnight, Paddy.”

He gives your shoulder a squeeze before leaving your tent. You stumble back to your cot and lay back on it, sighing. You are utterly exhausted, embarrassed, fulfilled, and any other thing a girl in the middle of the desert in North Africa could be.

But you do feel loved, and Paddy's touch on your shoulder lingers a little longer than you think it will.

“Did you fuck our nurse, you Irish bastard?!” Stirling’s voice sounds from across the camp, muffled by the night wind.

You snicker to yourself and pull the blanket over your head.

[ginerva-mollyweasley]

"he's from the other side... but we don't talk religion"

PADDY MAYNE AND EOIN MCGONIGAL -> they both survive the war and live through the troubles au

[captpheo]

guys i miss them

(I keep forgetting to post this because I keep going to finish it and giving up 😭)

[anxiouslowercase]

i'm sorry i'm the one you love no one will ever love me like you again so, when you leave me, i should die i deserve it, don't i?

SAS:RH x I'm Your Man - Mitski

[finiteuniverse13]

if i get too close

and i'm not how you hoped

forgive my northern attitude

oh, i was raised out in the cold

the cousin to "hozier makes me feel feelings about sas:rh";

noah kahan inspired me to make sad sas:rh posts part 1

masterlist

[greenegem]

Eoin is literally the fucking jovial theater mask come to life how was I not supposed to fall in love with him?? Like THIS is how we meet him babes!!

Smile so wide his eyes slit into crescents they do!

Which perfectly coincides with Paddy because what is Paddy Mayne but a fucking tragedy?!?

Anyways...real image of me smooshing with these two together like barbies:

[unfolding-universe]

I am on my 4th rewatch of s1 for something i'm working on and I just noticed we got a lot of very short shots of bill fraser throughout. Very short that if you're not paying full attention you might miss them. We also got tiny bill and jock arguing in the background after the NZ camp raid

I enjoyed his scenes so much, especially the ones with withers in s2. i wish we'd get more focus on him and the other lads in the next one. Something similar to reg, but less traumatic, please

[a-wine-dark-sea]

there are loads of little moments, mostly dialogue, in sas:rh that I still think about and needed to compile.

1.

this whole exchange in early s1 is insane and for us to not have heard paddy say sweetheart again is a cruel and unusual punishment

2.

this whole scene is devastating obviously but the choice to costume paddy slightly differently, plus the way he carries himself really stuck with me

3.

boys sunbathing

4.

reggie trying to make a quip but not knowing shit about instruments

5.

the very limited glimpse we’ve got of paddy’s family I hold close to my heart. him leaving them gifts when he comes home, signing ‘love’, his letter where he talks about eoin..

[tumblethroughthekaleidoscope]

SAS: Rouge Heroes (2022) — Paddy x Eoin

We're able to talk about home to each other. He's the same man I knew in Ireland, but lately I am changed by him.

[poetmayne]

the sad eyes are his charm...

[onyxsboxes]

🎶 🪂 LCAPT SAS Rogue Heroes 🪂 🎶

I'm happy (and very excited) to present you our new “Let's create a playlist together” SAS Rogue Heroes version 🥳

Many of you answered this question and I was able to compile all your recommendations into one big playlist.

Let’s create a “SAS Rogue Heroes” playlist together.  🎶 🪂 When you get this, list 5 songs you like to listen that remind you of SAS Rogue Heroes and publish them. Then send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool) (don't forget to tag @onyxsboxes so i can add your replies to the playlist) 🪂 🎶 You can include more or fewer songs (as you prefer), I'll collect all the replies and put them together in a playlist that I'll share in a week or so (I'll update it as I receive replies, so no rush and no pressure).

(The playlist is still OPEN, for those who want to add a few songs, go ahead, I'll continue to update it as I receive more replies.)

I'd like to thank you all for your participation. It was a delight to read all your recommendations, your little comments and to chat with you. You're an amazing fandom and it was really cool to be able to share this with you (even though it's been a long time since I interacted with everyone about the SAS show). I hope you will (like me) rediscover some songs in a new light thanks to this playlist.

Here the link to the other playlists if you want to take a look, they are also in my pinned post.

If you'd like to participate or if you'd like to be tagged when we do the next playlist, let me know (or there's a little form on this post for that if you prefer). And if you'd like to see a particular theme, please feel free to tell me so we can do it later.

Some statistics

The playlist lasts 11h12 with 172 different songs (I chose to put a song in the playlist only once and not as many times as it was tagged) and you can find all the song titles here.

Special mention to Man on a Mission by Bobby Joyner, which I couldn't find on Spotify to put on the playlist 😔

Well done to Wait for me (reprise) by Hadestown, which was mentioned 3 times 🥳

Mentioned two times

Highway To Hell by AC/DC

If it's True by Hadestown

Ballroom Blitz by Sweet

Thank you again guys 🤗🥰

----

Tag list, hope I haven't forgotten anyone

@anxiouslowercase, @bachaboska, @bobparkhurst, @bucksbluescarf, @butternuggets-blog

@charlesanthonybruno, @clevervonskelli, @ecoustsaintmein, @eiriniko, @emma-ofnormandy

@endof-vanity, @ferrame, @ginerva-mollyweasley, @hisbelfastboy, @ithappensoffstage

@leftoversl1ce, @localareaduck, @namprikkapi, @phoenix3x0, @qweenofpentacles

@roseszirnheld, @swifty-fox, @themisanthropiclycanthrope, @wisp-reaper, @withers-sas-dog

[vicodinoverdose]

posting to my niche anyways david stirling is my girlfriend

source: i said so :P

[captpheo]

remembered that I can draw, so here's everyone's favourite ghost of the narrative

[anxiouslowercase]

SAS: ROGUE HEROES - MODERN AU + tweets and textposts i find on pinterest