#ZOO WEE MAMA!

[fawn-with-fangs]

you will not be receiving context.

(just something to get me out of the pressure oc high. sorry)

[hamzterstyle]

that damn tracksuit

[gerard-ways-left-sock]

paramore photos i havent seen being posted a lot :3

all from billboard

[spacepatrolhana]

Me when an artist draws a character im attracted to really well

[ghostcrap]

WHAT

[guitarstringed-scars]

just misspelled shards as sharts and had to calm myself down cause i laughed at it so hard

[fangsforthevenom]

just saw the most beautiful woman in the world on my dash tonight

[indigotrader]

Zoo we Mama! It's my first post on this blog, here's a horrified Videl sketch I made a while ago.

[krussyarts]

So that act 2 huh

(original doodle + smth extra under cut)

The gang! "Huh", "wake me up inside by evanescence", "do yuo hav gamez on ur phobne" and "i brought a gun to the rave" anywayy i drew them together

[wemade-this]

My OTHER things!!

So I know that Disoriented Confine is like one universe (or is it..) right? Well, I make other things too! So if you ever want to check out my other creations, then I’m on Wattpad, Tiktok, X (I hate that, can I just call it Twitter again..), Insta, AO3 (bare with me, I can’t remember how to work that app!) and other socials ^^

I’ll probably make socials for Disoriented Confine too, it’s good to show what I’m really passionate about to others, I REALLY want people to know about this!

MY SOCIALS WILL BE IN MY BIO OR A DIFFERENT POST!!

[peatmosses]

OKAYYYYYY I’m finally finishing the season 4 bb finale and I audibly gasped out loud at one point lol my jaw DROPPED.

[good-fwiend-in-wome]

this would work much better with a third naissancee-ultrakill axis but that's beyond my graphing capabilities

[darryscrow]

you drew darry. you have my soul

wyd if me and gng pull up like dis

[guitarstringed-scars]

time to start writing noyas part for ravens eye

[sai-int]

possessive sex with RTS!Simon!! angry grunts, hand over your mouth, putting you in a full nelson. just utterly overloading your senses with nothing but him

i like your funny words, magic man 🙂‍↕️

— combining this with the anon who wanted hair pulling, choking, & spanking

— very rough sex, fem reader below the cut

the more time you spend with simon, the more his edges seem to wear down. he starts to soften until you barely notice it happening.

he murmurs sweet nothings against your skin now, calls you pretty things in that reverent voice like you’re a saint. it’s all praise, all worship, and after a while, it becomes easy to forget the version of him you once knew. easy to believe that the violence doesn’t live in him anymore—that it burned itself out somewhere along the way.

but it’s still there, still simmering and latent.

simon may be gentle with you, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgotten who he is. and when you start to test him, when you push just a little too far—he’s more than willing to remind you.

he’ll let the other version of himself—ghost— slip through the cracks, just long enough to make sure you remember who you’re dealing with.

not because he wants to scare you.

but because he knows it works.

because sometimes, you need a reminder that sugar only ever came after the steel.

—it was ghost you initially invited in, after all.

….

he’s been on edge throughout the entirety of your outing together.

something about the way you smiled at someone too long, or the sway of your hips in that goddamn dress when you leaned over earlier. you’d felt how tense he was in the way he brushed past you, the way his eyes lingered just a second too long on your throat, your hands, your hips. but it isn’t the same kind of tense he gets when he comes home from work all dead-eyed.

it’s possessive.

by the time you get home and the front door clicks shut behind you both, the air’s heavy with it—his restraint stretched thin, about to snap.

and when it does, it’s immediate.

he crowds you fast, slams your back against the door with a thud, big hands gripping your jaw, your throat, like he can’t decide where he wants to feel you first.

“don’t even fuckin’ know what y’do t’me,” he grits out, and his voice is low, simmering with something darker than lust, something nostalgic.

you try to speak, but it’s already too late—he’s kissing you, if you can even call it that. it’s more like he’s trying to drink the sounds and spit right out of your mouth, gulp down your vocal chords before they can even muster a whimper.

his teeth catch your lip and you can feel how soaked you are, a fresh wave of heat instantaneously rolls from your tummy to your cunt. his hand slips into your hair, dragging your head back by the scalp just so he can look at you better. he’s breathing hard, like holding himself back takes more energy than unleashing.

“get y’fuckin’ clothes off.”

you blink, caught in the pull of him, but you’re too slow. he moves you and spins you around, pushes you down against the arm of the couch, yanks your underwear down so fast the waistband burns. the cool air hits your thighs and then he’s on you, thick and hard and already leaking against your entrance despite not even hearing his belt clink.

he doesn’t slide in. not yet.

instead, he pulls your arms back, strong forearms locking under yours, around your neck, locked in a painful full-nelson. you’re bent and helpless, back arched in a perfect ‘C’, legs spread, nothing but the sound of his breathing and your pulse simultaneously in your ears.

then he sinks into you.

you gasp—sharp, near-silent—but he shoves his ring and index in your mouth before it can even leave your throat.

“nah, none of that,” he grits. “neighbors don’t need to hear the kinda sounds i wring outta you—all mine.”

the pads of his left fingers move to press on the back of your tongue, making you drool uncontrollably all over him—while his right arm is still hooked under your arm, mits yanking the delicate hair at the nape of your neck back by the root.

the stretch of his cock is brutal—deep and punishing , like he’s trying to fuck himself into your spine. and all you can do is take it, feel your eyes roll back and your cunt remold itself as he sets a break-neck pace, grunting like an animal in your ear every time he bottoms out.

“so fuckin’ tight—like y’were made for me, hmm?” he pants. “this pussy remembers who owns it, don’t it?”

he pulls his hand out of your mouth, slaps your ass hard—once, twice, until the sting blossoms warm and dizzying. your muscles jump under him, breath hitching against his palm.

“answer me.”

you nod frantically, choking on your own mewls. he growls and yanks your head back harder, lips brushing your ear.

“didn’t fuckin’ hear you.”

“y–yes simon—“ you whimper into his palm, barely intelligible. “yours. all yours— fuck—”

he groans at that, full-body shudder rolling through him. you feel it in the way he fucks you deeper, harder—driving it home like he’s trying to hammer the truth into your bones.

his hand slides from your ass to your throat, fingers wrapping around your neck, just enough pressure to make your vision blur. he’s everywhere—pressing into you from behind, filling your senses, your lungs, your entire world.

and then he starts up again with that mouth of his.

“look at you. stretched out, fucked out… gaggin’ for it, girl— fuckin’ hell,” he bites your shoulder, “and y’love it, don’t you? love bein’ used like this, yeah?”

you’re barely coherent now, drooling onto the couch below, legs shaking, eyes glassy as your mind floats. this isn’t about pleasure. it’s about control. about simon fucking riley needing to mark you from the inside out, until your voice, your body, your soul only echo him. it’s not just sex—it feels like a demonic possession.

he’s knows he’s got you right where he wants you—so far gone on him that even if he let go, you’d still be reaching.

lord knows you won’t be calling an exorcist anytime soon.

[freak-motion]

HAPPY V4VALENTINES.

may your yuri be plentiful idk