👀Masked Men👀

22 Writing whatever comes to mind. I DO TAKE REQUESTS BUT PLEASE BE LENIENT WITH ME AS I GET OVERWHELMED EASILY 🩷🩷

[simonscumdump]

Anyone who wants a request done for ANY other character they have in mind.

Please send all requests you have for this to @FilthfortheFictional

That's my second blog for all your DILFS, MILFS or filthy needs.

[simonscumdump]

Dbf! Simon please, make it as filthy as you want

Screaming crying throwing up I’ll absolutely do this.

Will post it later 😃

[simonscumdump]

highkey was thinkin abt some simon riley with either a demisexual or an insecure reader who’s got no fucking clue what she/they are doing and he’s just gentle as fuck. like yessss- also, your writings are literally so good like wtf.

take care pookie, the worlds a big place, but apparently the horniness on tumblr is bigger.

As a demisexual, you can bet y’ass m’doing this 🫡😭.

You take care too pooks 🥹🖤

[simonscumdump]

You've got a thing for the Captain's thighs. Soldier!User. (This is long...plot.)

Your relationship with John has always been close, he's saved your ass more times than you can count. From missions to on-base fights.

But there's always been this part of him that somehow captures your attention more than most.

Perhaps it was the way he sits, the way he naturally exudes authority without evening having to try.

"Y'starin'." It a passing comment, something that makes you stiffen where you sit beside him at his desk.

You'd come to help with paperwork, nothing major. It's practically a habit at this point. But at some-point your usually unwavering focus had shifted...

Drifted...

Downward.

"I'm not. I just got lost in thought." It's a lame attempt at diversion, you don't even know how long you've been staring at his lap for him to actually notice.

He'd grunt in response, half assed in sound like he doesn't believe you in the slightest.

He'd let it go, knowing better than to push it if you've already stiffened up on him that fast.

But when barely twenty minutes pass before you're at it again, your gaze locked down on his thighs. He can't keep quiet any further.

He'd lean forward, tugging a cigar from his box and leaning back once it was in his grip.

"M'startin' to think I've got a hole in m'pants." He'd comment with a tilt of his head as his gaze would sit firmly on you. As though he's silently trying to figure out what your problem was.

Your gaze would dart up, but the flush had given you away faster than you'd like. Especially when his gaze sharpens instantly upon seeing it.

"Right. Darlin'. Get talkin' before I start makin' guesses." He'd shift, his hips would lift just a little to adjust the way he was sat...and your gaze got pulled by it.

You couldn't help it, he was practically bringing attention to it.

"Eyes up 'ere." The command is quiet but it gets your attention instantly out of habit...

He saw it, the slight dilation to your pupils...the darker shade to the colour of your eyes.

He shouldn't entertain this...he knows that. But a worn hand is already pulling you from your seat.

And with a slight shift, he had settled you right atop his right thigh. Cargo material strained tight over built muscle. Facing him completely as he just picked the file up from his desk and leaned back.

He planned to leave it at that... To just have you there where you can stop staring holes into him.

__________________________________________________________

It was you who'd moved first, this small shift of your hips as though you simply wanted to get comfortable, but then you felt it...

The friction, the stimulation that hit just right.

You weren't sure if he had noticed, your eyes flicking to his features just for a moment to see...

But he was still focused on the file in his worn grip, cigar hanging from his lips as his gaze moved over the black ink.

So you did it again, a little more purposefully this time. Only for his thigh to tense and his eyes to snap right towards you.

There's a moment of silence. breath halting in your throat as your stares lock. His head would tilt just slightly, before his free hand would lift to enclose around your hip...

And guide you into another grind against the tense muscle.

"G'on, Darlin'. Move y'hips f'me." The words were low, and they were all the permission you needed to indulge.

Your hips roll a third time, more deliberate under the guide of his hand...then a fourth...and a fifth.

John doesn't shift his focus away from you, his stare dark and sharp as his grip tightens just so. He devours the pleasure in every little hitch of your breath. He watches you like its the only thing worth his time, drinking in every flash of bliss across your features.

He'd shift his leg up a little further, boot planted firmly on the floor so the muscle of his thigh was more prominent. Only to let out a low rumble of approval when you almost whimpered in the face of the friction change.

"Atta'girl, take what'cha need." It's encouragement, praise dipped in guidance that scratches an itch you didn't realise you had.

And he doesn't allow you to stop until you're trembling against him with his name falling out of your lips.

___________________________________________________________

hehehehehehehehe

[simonscumdump]

Jealousy with Ghost. Continued.

“Either walk away, or get on the fucking bed love.”

The words weren't a threat, though with the way he had delivered them they felt like one.

It was an order, a direct one.

A way out, or in.

You take that step forward, and his hands are already moving. Strong in their grip, certain in the way they tug you right against his towering frame with ease.

"Last chance." His words are a warning you feel so deep in your gut you can't even stop the breath you let out.

But that was it, his mask was discarded with a harshness that matched the fire burning in his every nerve. Pulling you into a kiss so intense you barely had the time to process it before he had you on those sheets.

____________________________________________________________

He's ruthless, determined to leave his mark in a way you'll remember. Hands exploring every inch of your body beneath him, each touch and breath a testament to the need that had built up in him for weeks.

"Don't get shy, love. Let 'em know who's makin' y'feel good." His tone had lowered, controlled in its effort...but visceral in its hunger. It pulls a gasp from your lips that he's eager to earn again.

Each roll of his hips is slow, deliberate, deep. Jealousy doesn't make this man fuck like an animal...it makes him focus. He needs to make you feel it, every drag within you...every throb...every twitch.

He relishes in every sound that escapes you, encourages them in an almost reverent manner. As though the mere notion of someone hearing you only motivates him further.

"C'mon, that's it...Tell me how good it feels." A breath against your ear, heated and soaked in the pleasure he feels in every bone.

He doesn't speed up, doesn't change his pace at all. Not when he wants to watch you crumble, to fall apart right beneath him in a way no one else will manage.

"Fuck... Look at you. Fuckin' made f'me" There's no hiding the hint of possession that lingers in his words, an echo that tells you...

This won't be the last time he has you beneath him.

__________________________________________________________

only like a year late.

@lifeisafreakshow

[simonscumdump]

The one where he's got a thing for how you say his name. Soldier!User...this is longer than I thought it'd be.

At first, he tried not to let it get to him.

The way his name falls from your lips like it belongs there, he'd act like it annoys him. He's your Lieutenant. It shouldn't be so personal between you both.

But you kept doing it. Over...and over.

"I thought I told y'to quit doin' that." His words interrupt you, catching your attention with lightning speed.

"Doing what?" You'd respond, with an air of innocent that makes him want to both throttle you and kiss the look off of your face.

"M'name, It's Ghost or Lieutenant to you. M'not your buddy, love." The endearment slips out accidentally, and judging by the way his jaw flexed beneath the fabric of his balaclava...he clearly regretted the use of it immediately.

He's been trying so damn hard to keep you at arms length, keep things professional like he is supposed to do...

"I never said I was your buddy either, Simon."

His gaze would narrow harshly at your response, sharp...focused. He'd take in a breath, as though he's attempting to gather the strength to even entertain this conversation.

"So, what are you trying to be then. If not my 'buddy'?" He'd respond, in that familiar blunt manner.

Yours, Maybe.

The thought would pass through your mind just briefly, something you'd never be caught dead admitting to his face.

But that fucker caught it, the way your gaze changed just for a second...darker, more intent behind it.

And suddenly, his restraint felt...pointless.

"Fuckin' c'mere."

____________________________________________________________

He'd have you in the nearest storage room, not the best choice but he would've never made it back to the barracks.

"C'mon, Love. Say it again f'me." The words would be rough, paired with his hands tugging your gear with an impatient hunger behind every harsh grip of the fabric. His mask shoved up to the bridge of his nose in a rush.

"Simon..."

He didn't even bother to hide the way he groaned into your skin, the sound low and desperate. Unable to stop his grip from trembling briefly with the effort it took not to just rip the fucking material off of you.

It's only that same impatience that has his gloved hand just sliding down beneath the fabric of your pants, his mouth simply too busy tasting your skin.

He'd be precise, controlled in the way he completely unravels your every thought, fingers sinking into your soaked cunt with a harsh breath against your skin.

"Again."

It's a command, an order given in the most filthy manner.

And who are you to deny him such a privilege when he's so perfectly making you fall apart for him.

"Simon...please..." It's breathless, starved in the way it echoes from your mouth so...

Perfectly.

In that moment, he can't find it in himself to stop. Lost in the way his name falls from those damn lips.

Neither of you leave that small storage room until he's had his fill of what he's denied himself of for so long.

_____________________________________________________________

[simonscumdump]

Oooooo I got an ask but idk lol

Got any thoughts on mechanic! Simon and reader who gets stuck in the snow near his shop and has to ask for help?

Much love!

Do you want this to be like fluff? Or NSFW?

Cause this can also be cute or absolutely unhinged really depends what you want 😭😂.

[simonscumdump]

I have returned.

Flood my inbox with requests.

Help a girl out.

Let me feed you some filth

[lucas-cant-write]

forevermore (love, johnny)

(firstly, i have to say i apologise for the hiatus. the work is def working and my personal problems were def taking a toll on me. BUT, here is a fic i created when dealing with shit. PLZ ENJOY!!!)

<3

(where soap wants to hug his team — his family, because he wants to. and no, im not killing him but this is quite angsty with hurt/comfort)

_

Soap was freezing cold, laid against the bed as the morning sun barely peek against the blinds of the window. The blanket he was wrapped in does nothing to the seeping cold washing against him, as if stuck deep in snow and ice with nothing but his fatigues, no thermal clothing to beat the chilly weather. Even his inner temperature — thanks to being a Scot and how his teammates (especially Price) lovingly call him the sunshine of the group.

But no amount of weather metaphors could stop the cold, the loneliness. Johnny’s eyes dart around the room, looking for the three people that he will lay his life for, men who he calls his brothers — maybe more if his deluded brain helps him. He wants them, he needs them.

“‘Apa? His voice cracks, eyes growing wet with tears. The blanket is trapping him, he can’t move an inch and his lungs grow heavy. It’s too much, he needs papa, uncle Si and big brother Ky. One of them — all of them, why can’t he move? Please, why can’t he do anything?

_

Price could tell something was wrong. Something concerning a particular Scottish lad with his iconic mohawk and brash personality.

Given that he came to love his three other subordinates (well actually, he doesn’t see him like anyone under. More rather an equal force of brute strength, intelligence and discipline), it’s no surprise that when one other is feeling under the weather that his paternal instincts come into fruition. Even then, this particular problem needs more than just him alone — so off to the kitchen he goes, to which he builds up a plan with both Kyle and Simon.

They inch towards the bedroom where Johnny is occupied, it’s really Price’s bedroom but now they all share it ever since they came close together. John knocks, turning the handle slowly to not disturb the poor lad, in case he’s asleep or otherwise. He can hear soft whimpering coming from the bed, a Soap-shaped lump that’s covering inside the blanket.

“Luv?” Kyle approaches the bed, sitting on the edge as he lays a hand which has to be his thigh as the Scot mumbles something incoherent, seemingly distressed about something John doesn’t know, “Hey, it’s okay. Can we see you, ‘Tav?”

The shape whines but complies, peeling the blanket so that the top of his head peaks out, his cerulean eyes darting to the three, “Ky?” His voice cracks with vulnerability, lips trembling as the Brit climbs up the bed, crawling slowly as to not spook the boy.

Simon was next, silent yet how his demeanour is unlike the cold soldier they know. How he’s smiling gently, hand brushing a lock of his mohawk as he plants a kiss to his forehead, how Johnny giggles whenever Simon plants more kisses everywhere, leaving no inch of skin unturned.

“Good, sweetheart?” He rumbles, letting the Scot lay on top of him like a mattress, Kyle beside him as he nods rather timidly, looking over to where John is looking over him with fondness on his eyes, reaching an arm over to beckon his ‘Apa, the final piece of their family.

And Price — so God help him — can’t refuse, the last to climb up the bed as he holds them all together, planting one final kiss to Johnny’s hairline, whispering, “You’re good, sunshine. Just relax.”

Forevermore, they can relax. Because they love their Johnny with all their hearts.

[simonscumdump]

Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure rn

[lucas-cant-write]

Contrary to popular belief (which honestly I'm not really a fan of,) Simon is actually pretty gentle.

Is it because (out of the rest of the 141) he has the biggest dick? Well yes, but hear me out.

Before you both go into pound town you just know he'll treat you like the queen/king you are, kisses everywhere that has skin, leaving none empty. Maybe he'll whisper praises against your ear so that it seeps through your bones, leaving you a mess of blissed out glory. Hell, he'll fucking do that to his partners, whether he'd be topping or being a bottom.

He'll prepare you — they all will, but it's the way Simon does it that just takes it to a whole new level. As if you're fine china, able to methodically give you everything you ever want and then some. And you know what? That's a fucking godsend for some.

Oh and don't get me started on how he'll wait until you explicitly tell him you're good to go, and even then he'll go slow, painfully slow. It's only when you're moaning from him to go fast is when he'll find what you're looking for: hair-raising, brain inducing sex. (Which, in turn, does give him a sense of pride because he's doing good to pleasure you.)

And yes, he moans when he cums. But that's just me. (Yes, Soap and Gaz use it for blackmail. No I won't tell you where they would use it.)

[simonscumdump]

Oop-

[simonscumdump]

Simon’s arms. That’s it, that’s the post.

Nah m’just kidding.

Anyway-

Fem based as per.

———————————————————————

“Y’ve been starin’ the entire time love, ‘ave you even been listenin’ t’me?” It’s the familiar rough tone that pulls you out of your little daydream. Your Lieutenant stood across from you, those big bulky arms crossed over his chest.

Frankly, you hadn’t been paying attention to a single word he’d said.

He’d been talking for around twenty minutes now? Was it thirty? God who knows.

You’ve been distracted the entire time, why? Because the fucker is out of his jacket. Instead of all that cloth blocking your view of his skin, he’s in that damn compression shirt. Ink on display, veiny forearms visible to your pervy little eyes.

“I’ve been listening.” You’d reply in the most half assed effort to divert his attention back to the topic at hand. But unfortunately the man is too good at easily reading the room.

It doesn’t take him long, those almost dazed eyes of yours, the way you’re practically stopping yourself from drooling as you shamelessly stare at his arms.

“Y’about as subtle as a man in the 1800’s seein’ a woman’s ankle f’the first time.” He spoke, just a simple echo of amusement into his usually unshakeable tone.

It has you swallowing the lump in your throat the way he so easily sussed you out.

“If y’gonna keep starin’ at me like a piece a’meat darlin’ m’gonna have to do somethin’.” He spoke, his arms slowly unfolding, landing on the arms of the chair you sat on. His masked face tilting just slightly to the left. Those dark eyes locking you in place.

“I-I…” It’s hard to get words out when this imposing figure is so easily keeping you in place.

“C’mon. Y’ain’t gonna focus like this love.”

Those were the final words before your semi professional relationship crumbled to pieces.

———————————————————————

“Nah…don’t run away from me, love.” Those deep words rumble as his hands keep your hips pinned down against his sheets.

“S’too…s’too much!” You couldn’t help but choke the words out, his thick cock bullying your cunt so deliciously he was smirking like an arrogant bastard.

His mask had been shifted up, resting on the bridge of his nose, lips swollen and bruised from the harsh kisses he’d been giving you.

And as if you couldn’t feel anymore trapped by the large arms either side of you, his hands practically throw your legs over his shoulders, his body leaning down, forcing yours into the most sinful mating press.

Those large arms keep you trapped beneath him, his body towering over yours in the best way possible.

“Y’can take it…y’been ogling me all day baby…c’mon…take it.” The words would purr from his chest, hips snapping with a brutal force until you were nothing but a trembling wet mess beneath him.

He’d be ruthless, making sure his cock kissed your cervix with each harsh thrust.

He’d stuff you full of his cum, unable to help himself when you look so pretty trapped beneath him.

And like the cocky bastard he was, with his cock still buried into your cunt…

“Y’gonna focus for me now love?”

[lucas-cant-write]

(18+, 141 soldier/gn!reader with female anatomy such as cunt and pussy. Ghost and Price basically being dom daddies and you their pillow princess)

Ghost and Price who decide to shower a successful mission by letting yourself in to the captain's office, "A surprise, luv," He said as you agree. You like surprises, so why not? What's the worse that can happen?

Ghost and Price who cornered you against the captain's desk, their lips finding skin not covered by your uniform. How your lips, cheeks, forehead and neck grow unmarred from their persistentence, grinning whenever you moan for more.

"Patience, sweet'art. Let your Alphas take care of you," Ghost rumbled against your ear, nibbing your lobe. You groan, grinding his thick cock as Price chuckles, his hands cupping your now swollen breasts.

"Looks like they're drippin' wet Simon, let's give her what she wants."

-

Ghost and Price who lay you down the desk, with only your top on as Simon kneels so that he's facing your dripping cunt, hands gripping your plump thighs as you look over his uncovered face, moaning when he smirks at your direction.

"Y'want it sweet'art?" You nod which he shakes his head, "With your words."

"Yes, please Simon. I want it," He growls at that before his tongue finds purchase, eating you out like a man starved. Your back lifts involuntarily which Price holds you down with his paws, trapping you against the desk.

"Like that, darlin'? Like how Simon is devourin' your pussy?" Price whispers, grinning when you squeal in delight, your nails digging the wood as the captain licks your neck, how your scent leaves him nothing but to ravish you until you're squirming for them, to use you like their personal fucktoy.

-

(Maybe after that they'll warm you up a bath because they gotta treat you like nothing but a queen/king. I believe in aftercare and so should you!)

[simonscumdump]

Ya’ll better eat up, my pookie’s posted.

[simonscumdump]

username is so real of you

Hehehehe thank you 🙂‍↕️

[simonscumdump]

HAH I FOUND YOU, now we can be feral together >:D

🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️.

Welcome to the mess of my tumblr marbs.

[simonscumdump]

Simon and his habit of fucking you to sleep.

(Hear me out)

It was honestly accidental the first time, he’d gotten back from a deployment and whilst he was desperate to feel you…to be close to you and re-familiarise himself with the heat of your cunt…

He was also tired. Cant blame the man…

So the first time it happened, it was an accident. The slow, steady rock of his hips whilst his built frame was completely covering you was honestly enough to have you both nod off. His thick cock nestled in your cunt until you’d both woken up that morning…

And then after that…it happened a little too often.

He’d come back, strip off his gear and join you in bed. Getting settled behind you as his arms would wrap around your waist. Tugging you back into him with a tired and low hum of affection.

He’d lift your leg, just enough to slip into your cunt…he’d let out this sigh, almost relieved once the hot wet walls of your cunt wrap around him.

“Fuck…missed you.”

A calloused hand would grip your hip, keeping you completely pressed back into him as he’d slowly roll his hips back and forth. Gentle in the movement.

It’s that slow rhythm that would end up lulling you both to sleep, his arms wrapped around you, head in the crook of your neck.

But he’d always make up for it in the mornings.

It was also how he’d wake you up, his cock sinking in and out of your cunt gently at first…but when you let out that familiar moan as you start to wake up…he’ll move a little rougher. Holding your leg up properly so he can reach that sweet spot like always.

“S’good f’me…fuck…”

Neither of you would leave the bed until he’s made you cum at least two or three times to make up for it. But no matter what he’d be cleaning you up with his tongue each time.

[simonscumdump]

Munch! Simon.

It’s not something he exactly hides.

Whether it’s passing little comments, or simply the way he could spend hours devouring your cunt.

Simon has never hidden the fact that he enjoys eating you out, almost to a sadistic level.

He was gentle at first, learning your body.

But eventually, he simply couldn’t get enough.

Not when you look so pretty riding his tongue, not when you taste so good that he can’t even help but moan against your slick cunt with every pass of his tongue.

Which was what led you to the first bout of overstimulation.

He’d been down there for nearly 10 minutes already, gentle, loving. Exploring your cunt like he’d never tasted it before.

And when you came, he kept going.

“Mm, sweet girl. Gimme more.”

His tongue would find your clit, lightly flicking over it again and again earning that addicting choked sound out of you that had him gripping your thighs a little tighter.

And when your second orgasm came, he groaned into your cunt. Lapping it up like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

“Another…c’mon baby…let me give you more.”

He’d let his tongue trail down, sinking into your clenching hole only to bring it back up to your overstimulated clit. Moaning when you bucked from the sensation.

“You can take it…I know you can…so good for me.”

Over and over, his tongue would flick your clit, briefly sucking on it which only served to make his eyes roll back downright pathetically when you pull his hair a little too tight. His hand trailing down, two thick digits breaching your sensitive hole and curling into that sweet spot that had you squirting before you could even realise.

His head would pop up, eyes as dark as the damp mud outside…that shit eating smirk on his face as he curled his fingers into that spot over and over. Release gushing out of you until you physically couldn’t take it.

“Alright…alright sweet girl…s’okay…I got ya.”

——————————-

@whore4romance this was the one I meant to tag you in 😭

[simonscumdump]

😣 first time doing an anon ask, can you maybe possibly do like an oral (f receiving) thingy with simon where he won’t stop til you literally cannot take it anymore

on your own time of course

if you wanna 🌝

This!

Simon and his love for overstimulating his sweet girl.

He can’t fathom the idea of not making you feel so incredibly good that you can’t move afterwards.

He prides himself on being good, on knowing what makes his little love lose her mind in the best ways.

So when he goes down on you? It’s a long process.

Making you cum once is an easy achievement, he doesn’t stop though. Not when you taste so damn good that he can’t help but groan into your cunt and firmly grip your hips to keep you in place whilst his tongue flicks over your abused clit for what felt like the 100th time.

“Gimme another one…c’mon…i know you can…please”

He’s pussy whipped and he knows it, he’d die between your legs happily. Eating you out like a starved animal over and over until your desperately pushing at his head to get him to stop. Tears of overstimulation pricking the corners of your eyes is when he finally lets up, showering gentle kisses across your thighs.

“Always so good for me…my sweet girl…did so well.”

[whore4romance]

Need a longer version of this

[simonscumdump]

Bet, gimme an hour.