21, Genderfluid, Any PronounsHi! I'm very new to Tumblr, and a chronic lurker
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Latest Posts by marshallmereel - Page 2
Gaz does not care for slow burn romances…
Got asked for a Price song rec and as I was making a list, found this ghostprice anthem that's been killing me...
Simon Riley wasn’t a man of many words, but his actions spoke volumes. And right now, those actions consisted of him sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, arms resting on his thighs, watching you like a man utterly engrossed in the most intense thriller of his life. His sharp, brown eyes followed every single one of your movements with laser focus—so much so that you had to stop and arch a brow at him through the mirror.
“You’re staring,” you mused, dragging a cotton pad soaked in toner across your skin.
Simon didn’t even blink. “Yeah.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say?”
A slow shrug. “You do this every night, and it still feels like watchin’ a bloody mission unfold.”
You snorted, shaking your head at his dramatics. “It’s just skincare, Si.”
“To you,” he countered, tilting his head as you reached for your serum. “To me? It’s an operation. You’ve got phases, precise steps, different solutions. Looks like chemical warfare.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Simon, this big, lethal man, who faced warzones and threats on a daily basis, was utterly captivated by something as mundane as your skincare routine. He never complained—not once. In fact, you were convinced he could sit there for hours if given the chance.
As you dropped a few dots of serum onto your cheeks, his fingers twitched. You caught it immediately. “You wanna do it?”
He exhaled through his nose, pretending to contemplate, but the answer was obvious. “Yeah.”
You turned to him, holding out the dropper. “Be gentle.”
His bare hand wrapped around the bottle as he squeezed out a tiny amount. His touch was surprisingly delicate as he smoothed the serum over your skin with slow, deliberate motions.
“There,” he murmured, voice low, like he had just completed something of grave importance. “Good?”
You hummed, leaning into his touch. “Perfect.”
Simon nodded, satisfied, before leaning back to watch the rest of your routine unfold. His girl, in her element. Nothing in the world could pull him away from this.
The door slammed open—well, as much as it could with Simon catching it at the last second, his reflexes kicking in. You stumbled in, barely managing to toe off your heels, giggling at absolutely nothing. The room swayed around you, the effects of one too many drinks wrapping around your mind like a thick haze.
Simon, ever the patient man, just sighed. “You’re pissed.”
You blinked up at him, your pupils blown wide. “M’not.”
“You are.” He exhaled sharply, stepping forward just as your knees buckled. One strong arm wrapped around your waist before you could faceplant onto the floor. “Alright, c’mon, love. Let’s get you sorted.”
You melted against him, cheek pressing against the hard planes of his chest. “You smell good,” you murmured, voice muffled.
Simon huffed out a small chuckle. “Yeah, yeah.”
He guided you toward the bed, setting you down with an ease that made you feel weightless. As soon as your body hit the mattress, exhaustion washed over you in waves, your limbs heavy, your mind sluggish. But just as you were about to succumb to sleep, Simon’s voice cut through the haze.
“You gotta clean your face first.”
You whined, attempting to burrow into the pillows. “Don’t wanna.”
“Doesn’t matter.” There was no room for argument in his tone, but there was something else there too—something soft, something… fond.
Through half-lidded eyes, you watched as he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of cabinets opening and closing filling the space. When he returned, he had a small cotton pad in one hand and your bottle of micellar water in the other. Your sluggish brain could barely comprehend what was happening as he crouched in front of you, his touch unexpectedly gentle as he cupped your jaw.
“Hold still,” he murmured, voice low, as if afraid to startle you.
You hummed, too dazed to do anything but comply. With careful precision—like he was handling something fragile—he pressed the damp cotton pad against your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your foundation. His movements were slow, deliberate, like he was performing some sort of sacred ritual.
The cool sensation against your skin was oddly soothing, and you sighed, leaning into his touch.
Simon shook his head, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “Didn’t think I’d be doin’ this, but here we are.
You smiled sleepily. “Taught you well, huh?”
“That you did.” His thumb brushed over your cheekbone before he continued, working his way down to your chin, your forehead, even swiping a fresh pad over your lips with the utmost care.
When he reached your eyes, he hesitated. “Close ‘em for me, love.”
You did as he asked, feeling the gentle sweep of the cotton against your lids, ridding them of mascara and eyeliner. His touch never faltered, never rushed.
By the time he was done, your skin felt fresh, clean, and your body… impossibly heavy. Sleep tugged at you, lulling you into a warm, blissful state.
Simon sighed, brushing a few stray strands of hair from your face. “Alright, bed.”
You barely registered the blankets being pulled over you, barely noticed the way he lingered for just a moment longer, watching over you like a silent guardian.
But just before sleep fully claimed you, you mumbled, “Love you, Si.”
A beat of silence. Then, a quiet, barely-there response.
“Love you too, sweetheart…”
Simon Riley who took you home after a night out, expecting sex but you couldn't go through with it.
You were both already naked, your hands on his chest, straddling the large man when you just ... couldn't do it. Being a virgin at this age felt embarrassing, and tonight you wanted to get rid of the title.
Simon, saw the dismay on your face and wrapped a blanket around you. Your face was bright red from embarrassment, god, what was holding you back?
"it's alrigh' love."
You felt the need to leave. You hadn't given him what he wanted...so you guessed it was time to hit the road.
So, both of you got up to do very different things.
You started putting on your dress and shoes, but when Simon turned around, he had a pair of his shirts and large sweat pants for you to wear.
His gruff voice was so gentle.
"You don't 'ave to leave..."
You weren't expecting this. There were no alarm bells, nothing in your stomach to say 'run.' But Simon Riley knew the dangers that women faced and he never wanted to make another woman feel that way.
"I uh, just want you to know, you can do whatever you like. I just ... fucking hell. What I'm tryin' to say is, I'd like to spend more time with ya...if that's alrigh' by you..."
He offered you a shower, and god did you want one. Surprisingly enough, Simon had pretty good products in his bathroom. None of that 30 in 1 shampoo. Clean towels. Everything was in perfect order; neat, tidy.
When you had changed into the perfectly oversized clothes (he is like 6'6?), and walked downstairs, Simon was waiting on the lounge with various drink options, and a sheepish grin.
"Thought you'd need some water, but I also have whiskey, coffee, tea..."
"Oh, thank you! Um, I'm fine with water...and maybe a tea."
"Woman after me own heart," he said with a grin and went on to make the best cuppa he's made in his life.
my depression has led me down this road so…
c/w: stepdad!john x lowselfesteem!reader, step-cest, dead dove, slight mention of reader taking a prescribed medication for unspecified medical condition
john and his ‘loser’ step-daughter, who’s riddled with a winning combination of mommy and daddy issues. john steps up as much as he can to fill the gaps left by your deadbeat dad but your mother digs her claws in deep to rip that warm feeling away from you whenever she can
you’re a sweet thing, haven’t really found your path in life yet. no further education because you’re ‘not really passionate about anything, I guess’. no job, no close friends and no boyfriend, not even a first date
your mother makes no attempts to hide her disappointment in you, shoving your medications to the back of the cabinet when she catches john looking in curiosity. so he tries his hardest to keep her out the house. busy with work, and spa trips, weekends away with her friends. far away so she can’t bother you…
poor thing who just needs a loving, guiding hand. and john is more than happy to provide that. more than happy to pay your way for you. you’re a good girl despite what your mother says. always washing his clothes for him, giving him a portion of whatever you cook yourself, a kiss on his cheek every time you head off to bed
your mother doesn’t like he offers his jacket to you instead of her, that sickly-sweet ‘she’s shivering, love. look at her’ every time. or the way you sleep in his old t-shirts from his recruitment days. you hear them argue about it every once in a while, before your mum storms out and like clockwork, john comes into your room and asks if you want to have a movie night with him
your mum doesn’t need to know how you snuggle up to him on his lap, drooling into his neck when you doze off after the third movie. or the way he sits next to you for a while after he’s carried you off to bed, stroking your hair and thinking about you’ll thrive when it’s just you and him <3
If you use Ai in art or writing fuck off man
I love these boys and I'm so glad they're both alive and well
I’ve got somewhat of a strange question, why do writers hate AI chatbots so much? (Aside from the fact that it’s AI) Obviously AI art is bad, so is using an AI to write and then posting that writing as “your own”. That takes away from writers and artists. But someone using an AI chatbot just for their own personal use? How is that bad? I’m not trying to say it’s good, I’m just genuinely trying to understand why it’s bad, since so many people don’t support chatbots.
well i'm glad you know using ai for art and writing is bad.
i'm going to assume that, since you've acknowledged ai-generated art and writing are bad, you know how ai is trained to some extent.
that, in order to function, they're fed a metric fuckton of samples including copyrighted material, tv scripts, fanfiction, etc. with or (usually) without permission. those are just a few examples.
that the only 'original' work freely given to a chatbot is what people put into it, and that everything it generates is based on stolen work.
every time i see someone push the personal use angle, it reads like a cop-out, imo. it reads more like "is using chatbots still bad if someone is keeping their use of them a secret?" to me, using the puppy kicker 9000 in private doesn't make it any less of a problem. the puppy is still getting kicked.
anyway, some other tumblr posts about ai that you might find informative
instant gratification, instant gratification 2
how c.ai works and why it's unethical
energy use stats
ai + slave labor
Saw you were okay to write yandere makarov!! So when is the hcs 👀
— Yandere Vladimir Makarov Headcanons
Warnings: Yandere behavior, heavy detail of manipulation, possessiveness, jealousy, toxic, and gaslighting scenarios.
A/N: I suppose now!! Please enjoy <33 (also, heads up, it’s a bit short. Sorry!!)
Vladimir is tenderly obsessive. He’s controlling, highly aggressive, paranoid, and just suffocating.
Once he decides you are his, you are everything to him—a fresh tattoo of your name inked on him, sensing a form of property to each other. Loving the idea of you having a matching design.
Of course, he is mistrustful. After all, he’s a strategist and terrorist, so he sees conspiracies everywhere. Trusting is a big pill to swallow for him, so gaining his attention, let alone an open scene of his mind, is a complex duty. Years at work, either working for or with him. An assistant he begins to laugh at with horrible, dark jokes. A soldier in the Konni Group that he directly asks for. Or, in a rare chance, a civilian whom he had a one-night stand with; quickly realizing you were too much of a unique drug to get cleansed of.
But, when he allows it, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, he doesn’t hide attraction toward you. In fact, he’s very open about it. With that “gentle” smile of his, a soft pat on the shoulder, and his famous nickname being whispered in your ear, you don’t realize till it’s too late just how wrapped you are in for now. You can’t leave.
Before you know it, he’s paying everyone around you to watch you. Your landlord, who cuts your rent in half. The new coworker at your job, who is too nice, is being so sentimental with your stress. That one neighbor moving in next door, always inviting you over for brunch. Anything that can help him with information about you, especially the sensitive topics that he craves to know.
Vladimir makes you rely on him, creating tough situations where you desperately need him. Controlling you financially and environmentally. Never having a reason to leave; holding his wealth, the power he has over you. He’ll buy the apartment complex you live in, hiking up the rent till it’s impossible. Have your bank foreclose your home. Being arrested for a felony you didn’t even commit.
But of course, Makarov is there, offering you money. Safety. A wait out, forms of security where you can trust him. Deceiving you in such a way, you’ll believe him. You belong to him; everything that is yours is his.
Though, if you are smart enough, digging around and truly finding out about his true intentions, it won’t end the way you’d like. The police simply won’t help. But you should’ve known better; since when have they ever been useful?
Vladimir likes to watch. Learning silently, watching you so perfectly. Calculating everything, viewing you, and how your world functions way differently from his. It can be innocent and dirty; flipping through images of you on the live CCTV makes him smile a bit too much.
Being a highly trained individual and a violent man, his patience runs thin. Breaking his rules always results in harsh and embarrassing punishments. Spanking, forms of isolation, and strips of privacy are his main go, too's. Any form of loss of control, for you, is an immediate satisfaction for this man. Even in order for him to “forgive you,” you have to beg. Make it up. Prove to him that you truly are sorry and you want to stay with him.
As your permanent husband, Vladimir is a very possessive and touching man. He always has an arm around you, either squeezing or just there. Standing in a room, anyone could know you belonged to him.
Behind closed doors, he loves holding your hand, bringing it to his mouth, and kissing it gently. Squeezing your thighs, pulling your legs over his lap as he asks about what you did while he was gone. Playing with the clothes of your fabrics, smelling your scent.
Jealousy is thick with Vladimir. He isn’t afraid to threaten, let alone shoot his own men if they make a move on you. Flirting, even talking or let alone touching you, is forbidden. You are his—seeing you a mess is enough to make him fucking angry.
Sleeping together when Makarov is at home, he happily sleeps naked. Curling in the expensive red bedsheets, curling and sighing at the better feeling. He’ll either be loosely spooning or tracing your tattoos or beauty marks. Or, if you want space, he still maintains slight physical contact by resting one of his legs on top of yours.
Believing his paranoia, fearing that they are correct, is more than enough to push him into an aggressive episode. He often has to check up on you, calling you urgently—asking to hear your voice. Helping him fall asleep.
If all is too much, he regularly asks his men to transport you somewhere else. A safer haven where he feels you are safer. Just do what he says, and everything will be okay, yeah?
—
Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!
© yandere-kokeshi 2025 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.
YOU hates terfs
does anyone wanna hold hands until we feel a little braver
Daddy dom Price and his sweet, independent girl who can turn her brain off when she’s around him.
Simon/Price x fem!Reader
best believe that if, by some miracle, John Price grants you a divorce, he will insist on paying you alimony for as long as the courts would allow and he's never remarrying.
everyone talks about mask kink simon, but what about simon who *hates* wearing his mask during spicy time. he needs time feel your hands in his hair, freedom to mark your neck and chest and shoulders without the fabric of his balaclava in the way. he needs it in order to get off, and he needs to feel every inch of you he possibly can otherwise he’s just frustrated. simon riley doesn’t let people in easily, and he’s not letting anything happen to you, his absolute treasure, and he’ll spend as much of his time as he can marking you and fucking you like an animal, all the while being grateful he has you. he never wanted anyone else, only you, the only person who gets to see him unmasked physically and emotionally <3
Remembered I have free will and can draw Rudy whenever tf I want.. boom, Rodolfo Parra..
THE man of all time, god i love him sm
Controversial opinion but I think John Price would be terrible at comforting you.
He's a doer. He sees something that needs fixing and he does it. He hates feeling useless, hates feeling powerless, especially when it comes to the people he cares about. From the second he realises there's something wrong (which is instantly, he's scarily good at reading people) he's all questions. What happened, who did it, why did they do it...he needs all the details, love. He'll sort it, don't you worry.
You have to remind him that he can't murder your boss, or your shitty friends, or the guy who made you spill coffee on your favourite shirt and then yelled at you for it.
(And no, he can't rough them up - "even a little!" - or give them a "warning")
And if he can't fix it himself, he'll resort to giving you orders - this is what you'll do next time, or here's why there won't be a next time, because you're cutting them off immediately. They're no good for you, and you deserve better. You need to understand your worth, you need to stand up for yourself, you need to you need to you need to -
If you weren't already, you'd be in tears by this point, yelling at him to just stop and listen. You don't need advice. You don't need anything fixing. You just need someone to listen to you and comfort you - you just need your partner.
He's stunned into silence. He's never really considered that you might just need him. Soft words and gentle touches were never something he was afforded himself, so he learned to show his care through his actions, by providing for you and caring for you and doing anything, big or small, that could make your life easier. The idea that he could care for you by doing...nothing? By just being there? It was a foreign concept to him.
That being said, once you've gotten it into his head that he doesn't have to do anything, you just need him...his hugs are unbeatable. He will pull you onto his lap and completely envelop you with his arms, draping your favourite blanket over you and rubbing your back gently. If he can't fix the world for you, then he can at least distract you from it, to remind you that in his arms nothing will ever hurt you. That to him, you are the most important thing, and he needs to tell you that with words rather than actions.
He may be terrible at comfort, but with John Price you'll never doubt that you're loved.
i think im just not worth getting close to
I remembered how to draw ghost. Had to rizz him with the 'tism. This man 100% eats his smarties in colour order.
I need more photos from this angle. Like on the ground looking up at him doing the tippy-toe hip tilt. Dick forward, facing the world.
Gaz is so Wesley from The Princess Bride coded
your can’t get it up piece STOPPPP THE WORMS IN MY BRAIN ARE GOING FERAL HELP! i have noooo clue what this is called or if it’s an official thing but i loveeee when a guy cums too quickly, can’t get it up, is so pent up they’re blushing blubbering etc and all of these are such older boyfriend simon like he is old and sometimes his body doesn’t work the way he wants it to. i love it like yesss blush and get all embarrassed because you just came in your pants simply because we were making out or because you came as soon as you put your cock in and thrusted like twice…yum!
JESUS idk what it’s called either but it drives me fucking batty 🫶🏼
there’s this line older bf!simon walks with you of either feeling like a dirty old man or a fucking teenager- often there’s no in between.
when he’s got you on your back and you’re looking up at him with those starry eyes like he hung the fucking moon and you’re biting on the tip of your finger as you fucking giggle for him.
“mmm si, you’re so fucking handsome”
and you’re dragging a hand up his abs and pushing your hips closer to him as he’s trying to clear his mind enough to sink just the tip in.
fucking focus, stupid git.
it’s no use when you’re touching him like that and you sound so fucking sweet and your eyes are crossing when he’s only just notched in the head of his cock.
done for.
you’re tight- practically choking him on entry and it’s all falling to pieces. strangled moan breaking out his chest as his hips are stuttering and he’s flooded you with cum.
you gasp, fingers moving to spread yourself a little to watch the way it spills out of you. the blush is already creeping up simon’s neck and he’s burying his face in your chest.
“m’so fuckin’ sorry, sweet’art”
rubbing his back and gently cooing in his ear, you’re pulling him on top of you to let him curl into your side.
“sorry f’what? thinking that highly of me?”
he feels like a fucking loser with this pretty little thing, he should be able to fuck you within an inch of your life. and he can! he does!
but not all the time.
not when you’ve been perched in his lap kissing on him for the better part of an hour and your hips roll into his when his hands move just right.
the little noises you make when the meeting of your thighs move over the hard line of his cock, simon’s head is fucking spinning.
he wants to tell you he needs a breather, he knows you’d understand but he also doesn’t want you to move. he doesn’t want to take a hand off you.
but when you’re leaning back and pulling your shirt over your head, taking his hands and placing them right on your chest- he’s done for.
simon’s hips lift off the couch and there’s a breathy little whimper and he doesn’t even know where the fuck it came from. but he’s cumming.
and he’s cumming hard.
he’s embarrassed, feeling like if anyone else knew that’d just happened- he’d probably have to kill them.
not you though, not you who looks at him with that heady little smile and starts kissing up the column of his throat.
“fuck, si- you sound so fucking sexy when you cum for me”
but when he’s feeling like a dirty old man, already getting on at himself for not being young enough for you. then his cock goes soft on him and he actually might break something.
you don’t even look bothered, when he’s sitting on the edge of the bed feeling sorry for himself and you’re wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.
nuzzling your face in the crown of his head, pressing kisses to his scalp as you bring a hand down to stroke it soft.
“that feel good?”
simon’s chest stutters as he breathes out an affirmative, sinking back into your chest as your other hand comes to play with his balls.
“you’ve had a long week, yeah?”
and he remembers that yeah, he has actually. maybe his body isn’t giving up, maybe he isn’t the worst man to ever walk the planet, maybe- just maybe he does deserve you.
so he lets himself relax into you as your teeth gently scrape the shell of his ear while you stroke him. never firming, but still making that heat thunder away in his stomach.
“let me take care of you, like you always do f’me”
let Gaz be a freak, y’all
he deserves it