dmitriene

[dmitriene]

my darlings are ya'll allergic to fluff... the difference between pure porn i posted that banged recently and this fluff is so funny 😭

simon ghost riley learns flower language, occasionally, it is not uncommon for him to explore the area around him on missions, just in case, thus clinging to the beauty of the landscapes around him, the outlines of houses, even if they are dilapidated ones, the remaining furniture in the houses, and the plants that come under the heavy soles of his shoes.

he learns it from a soldier, that flowers have a language of their own, when he notices a fragile, young flower breaking through the uninhabitable soil among shards of glass, bullet casings, and broken pieces of concrete walls, but even in the very center of the battlefield, it blooms, and simon clings to the slender stem with a round, surprised look, and the guy that looms behind his back casually tells the name of the plant and it's own meaning.

simon encounters various plants more and more often, as if after this incident, they began to come across him in greater numbers, and he remembers what they look like, color, bend of petals, size, every small detail will get stuck at the back of his mind until he returns from a mission to the base, able to check what each of them means, love, loss, joy, a combination of two senses, all so different and extraordinarily interesting.

some of them remind you of you, delicate, fragile and as if shuddering at the touch of his rough, calloused fingers, just like your body, when simon touches those places that make your back bow up like a drawn bowstring, and your legs quiver, crossing at the small of his back with seizing pleasure, as beautiful, bright and mesmerizing, stealing his breath, the attention of his gaze, making his hands twitch with an urge to touch, cradle you in the shelter of his arms.

when simon returns, standing on the threshold, fingers curled almost too tightly around the stems of a rich, large bouquet filled with different types of flowers, incongruous, but at the same time, incredibly beautiful, each in its own way, you take the bouquet in your hands, hugging it to your chest and inhaling the unobtrusive, sweet aroma, raising your glimmering gaze to meet the soothing pools of his eyes, crinkled at the corners from the sight of the giddy grin that splits your lips.

the reason for such a gift remains a fragile, untold secret, hidden behind a husky laugh as you try to get to the truth, littering his rugged face with soft, weightless kisses and fevered whispers, and simon almost tells you, when he holds you under the weight of his cloaking body that night, nosing against your ear with gravelly moans that answer your heady, wet gasps, whispering, chanting, that his love will remain with you there, for forever, placed in that flower vase.

and they will not have time to wither, because he will always return with new ones.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[dmitriene]

simon ghost riley learns flower language, occasionally, it is not uncommon for him to explore the area around him on missions, just in case, thus clinging to the beauty of the landscapes around him, the outlines of houses, even if they are dilapidated ones, the remaining furniture in the houses, and the plants that come under the heavy soles of his shoes.

he learns it from a soldier, that flowers have a language of their own, when he notices a fragile, young flower breaking through the uninhabitable soil among shards of glass, bullet casings, and broken pieces of concrete walls, but even in the very center of the battlefield, it blooms, and simon clings to the slender stem with a round, surprised look, and the guy that looms behind his back casually tells the name of the plant and it's own meaning.

simon encounters various plants more and more often, as if after this incident, they began to come across him in greater numbers, and he remembers what they look like, color, bend of petals, size, every small detail will get stuck at the back of his mind until he returns from a mission to the base, able to check what each of them means, love, loss, joy, a combination of two senses, all so different and extraordinarily interesting.

some of them remind you of you, delicate, fragile and as if shuddering at the touch of his rough, calloused fingers, just like your body, when simon touches those places that make your back bow up like a drawn bowstring, and your legs quiver, crossing at the small of his back with seizing pleasure, as beautiful, bright and mesmerizing, stealing his breath, the attention of his gaze, making his hands twitch with an urge to touch, cradle you in the shelter of his arms.

when simon returns, standing on the threshold, fingers curled almost too tightly around the stems of a rich, large bouquet filled with different types of flowers, incongruous, but at the same time, incredibly beautiful, each in its own way, you take the bouquet in your hands, hugging it to your chest and inhaling the unobtrusive, sweet aroma, raising your glimmering gaze to meet the soothing pools of his eyes, crinkled at the corners from the sight of the giddy grin that splits your lips.

the reason for such a gift remains a fragile, untold secret, hidden behind a husky laugh as you try to get to the truth, littering his rugged face with soft, weightless kisses and fevered whispers, and simon almost tells you, when he holds you under the weight of his cloaking body that night, nosing against your ear with gravelly moans that answer your heady, wet gasps, whispering, chanting, that his love will remain with you there, for forever, placed in that flower vase.

and they will not have time to wither, because he will always return with new ones.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[dmitriene]

he's sweet between his legs, his viktor, dripping rivulets of sweet, addictive slick like the fruits they harvest all around the commune and feed each other, something they can call theirs, something jayce can call his, too —his partner, his pussy, honey syrupy against jayce's laving tongue, aching teeth's, unkempt beard, callousedly rough prodding fingers

and still, viktor writhes underneath him, legs parting widely, his new flesh — purple and glowing with pulsing at every little touch and swipe, as if siren calling, the cleft hidden between his legs, mirroring the shape of puffy folds, is not supposed to be here at all, but formed to fulfill the desires jayce brings to the surface, dripping wet and swallowed down in eager, slurping mouth

main masterlist. quidelines.

[dmitriene]

cw: omegaverse, unexpected heat, no age gap but you can imagine jayce being younger than viktor freely.

viktor's body is not actually for producing kids, for smelling all syrupy sweet, for dripping rivulets for the alpha to lick into his mouth and then take him, a sweet omega as they usually mouth, apart, no, viktor is, somewhat broken, not what you expect to see in omegas at all, and paired with his own disinterest — having a mate was never a discussion, a companion for the heats even more not.

the change that comes with jayce teetering in his life is both annoying and equally thrilling, you see, viktor is always annoyed by every alpha's permeating, pungent smells, and meeting a suddenly calm, almost breezy whiff is a great surprise — and not exactly uncomfortable, until jayce let's his own chin hook around viktor's shoulder, almost nuzzling into his neck with an amused “you know, you smell faintly of something really nice”, sending viktor wheezing and utterly sheepish.

he doesn't smells, to himself, and other alpha's as well, but jayce somehow can pick up on imaginable notes and describes it to viktor, watching his cheeks color where his facial hair doesn't reach, chuckling and making the older man even more embarrassed than he is, and then a heat comes — in his home, when he doesn't expects, after such a long time of not having or either suppressing it, his body restless and searing hot, soaking through all the layers, not only with sweat, but tacky slick.

what did jayce do to him? how he managed to affect viktor so much, in all of the other alpha's around, why exactly jayce broke through? viktor doesn't knows, not with his brain slowly tipping into a haze, he only knows that his whole insides throb — begging to be filled, breeded, as his slim thighs rub together impatiently, rocking his body along the rumpled sheets, ass up and wriggling, and when his eyes flutter shut tight, the only thing he can think about is jayce.

jayce, jayce, alpha, alpha, a man that can help him, that can smell him, that can lay him over and take care of his needs — for turning him into such submissive, pliable omega, for getting into unexpected heat, and of course jayce would, dreamt of it, even, to be the one to take care of viktor, make him feel like a proper, cared sweet omega, so when his phone buzzes with viktor's name on it, a raspy, ragged breath and stuttering mess of words on the other end, jayce is out of his apartment in an instant.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[dmitriene]

6 followers away from hitting 11k.. unbelievable how many people are on this blog, liking my writing, and supporting me through so much 😭 i am beyond grateful for having you all there!

[dmitriene]

i love my moots.. i know i'm barely interacting but i see ya'll and i love each one of you very very much..

[dmitriene]

simon ghost riley stays inside of you, nights, weekends, mornings, with your body pillowed down into the sheets and the hardness of his brawny chest from behind your back, fitting into the full line of his muscular body, your plump ass cushioned against his steadily rolling, pumping forward hips, feeling how his drawn up, full and coarse balls plap wetly against your fluttering folds, making you gasp, sound high in pitch and breathy.

with his face nuzzling in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, skin warm beneath, flushing at the exertion of accepting his swollen cock, dragging with drawn out, deep thrusts, hips pushing in against your ass, making you arch deeper, meeting his movements lazily, too fucked out, as you cling to the feel of simon's stubble rasping against your sensitive, sweaty body, down to your shoulder blades, the delicate line of spine.

you daze out, eyes watery, glancing at the headboard of the bed in front of you, bleary and smudging at the edges, making your head tip down to burrow into the pillow beneath, humming, gasping when simon's cock twitches inside of you, bulbous tip leaking and bumping over your sensitive spongy spot, movements rapid, sending white hot, exploding pleasure from the base of your spine and coursing, licking over your knotting tummy.

every ridge, scar, and tense muscle of his body brushes, presses over yours, dappled in fuzzy little hairs, rough and textured, yet making you feel as comfortable as ever, nestling closer, chasing the feel of his large body weighting on your back, the cotton duvets beneath you soddening and furled around, his heavy hands draped, curled over your torso, calloused palms reaching to cup and knead at your breasts, pearling nipples catching on the callouses, hardening even more.

simon's cock always prodding, breaching in your sensitive, weepy cunt, and there's nothing better than being cradled so close to him, having him in, filling you with a pleasurable heaviness, chapped, tissued lips pressing kiss upon kiss against the side of your face, each dip and nook of your curves, matching with the softness that he accumulated as well, over those pecs and stomach that rub against you, and that knowledge is enough to make your pussy gush.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[dmitriene]

simon ghost riley stays inside of you, nights, weekends, mornings, with your body pillowed down into the sheets and the hardness of his brawny chest from behind your back, fitting into the full line of his muscular body, your plump ass cushioned against his steadily rolling, pumping forward hips, feeling how his drawn up, full and coarse balls plap wetly against your fluttering folds, making you gasp, sound high in pitch and breathy.

with his face nuzzling in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, skin warm beneath, flushing at the exertion of accepting his swollen cock, dragging with drawn out, deep thrusts, hips pushing in against your ass, making you arch deeper, meeting his movements lazily, too fucked out, as you cling to the feel of simon's stubble rasping against your sensitive, sweaty body, down to your shoulder blades, the delicate line of spine.

you daze out, eyes watery, glancing at the headboard of the bed in front of you, bleary and smudging at the edges, making your head tip down to burrow into the pillow beneath, humming, gasping when simon's cock twitches inside of you, bulbous tip leaking and bumping over your sensitive spongy spot, movements rapid, sending white hot, exploding pleasure from the base of your spine and coursing, licking over your knotting tummy.

every ridge, scar, and tense muscle of his body brushes, presses over yours, dappled in fuzzy little hairs, rough and textured, yet making you feel as comfortable as ever, nestling closer, chasing the feel of his large body weighting on your back, the cotton duvets beneath you soddening and furled around, his heavy hands draped, curled over your torso, calloused palms reaching to cup and knead at your breasts, pearling nipples catching on the callouses, hardening even more.

simon's cock always prodding, breaching in your sensitive, weepy cunt, and there's nothing better than being cradled so close to him, having him in, filling you with a pleasurable heaviness, chapped, tissued lips pressing kiss upon kiss against the side of your face, each dip and nook of your curves, matching with the softness that he accumulated as well, over those pecs and stomach that rub against you, and that knowledge is enough to make your pussy gush.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[dmitriene]

I tried to check your about section but didnt see one-im sorry if i hust missed it/this is an annoying question but do you have a ao3?

yeess i do! though it's quite empty and has couple failed attempts at writing ghoap lol.. here's the link :)

[dmitriene]

cw: dubcon.

you like to fantasize about simon riley, of the way his eyes look while gazing down on you, deep brown, pooling tart and sharp like whiskey, heavy lidded with deep, insatiable hunger and greed, the chiseled lines of his face, skin pale, one that barely seen any ray of sun, with his body solid, big, padded with rare fat, the softness of his relaxed muscles, dappled along with fuzzy, short translucent hairs.

his hands, broad, fingers long, webbed with always protruding, thick veins, skin hidden under black ink of tattoo sleeve, all the pieces moving where his muscles flex, twitching, synchronizing with each other, making his chest tense as well, as your eyes sweep from the long line of his neck, massive stretch of his shoulders, catching on his nipples, shy pink in color, flushing over his rugged face as well.

of his touch, calloused thumb chaffing over your sensitive nub, twitching at the every movement, fingers splayed over your pubic bone, as he glides his thumb lower, over the cleft of your cunt, sopping wet in need, pooling with viscous slick, and nudges in, scooping the tacky wetness, smearing it over your fluttering folds, teasing at your entrance till you keen over, tongue weak in your parted mouth, body seizing, shivering.

so real, the heaviness of simon's bending body searing warm, brush of his chapped lips and outgrowing stubble tickling over the tender skin at the slope of your neck, dipping at where he mouthes carefully at your sternum, kisses lingering, with blooming bruises and damp from his saliva, after being sucked in between sharp teeth's to leave a hickey, and your hands shoot forward, looping tight around his shoulders, fingers digging, cradling through buzzed, short hairs at his sensitive nape, pricking your fingers.

your eyes flutter open at the heavy grunt, strained growl of your name, an answer to your own delirious babble that calls for simon, bleary, lost gaze accommodating slowly to the opaque darkness of your room, and he's hovering over, looking just the way he used to in your fantasy, eyes crinkling in easy delight, mirth, and you know that there was no dream, he's right there.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[dmitriene]

cw: dubcon.

you like to fantasize about simon riley, of the way his eyes look while gazing down on you, deep brown, pooling tart and sharp like whiskey, heavy lidded with deep, insatiable hunger and greed, the chiseled lines of his face, skin pale, one that barely seen any ray of sun, with his body solid, big, padded with rare fat, the softness of his relaxed muscles, dappled along with fuzzy, short translucent hairs.

his hands, broad, fingers long, webbed with always protruding, thick veins, skin hidden under black ink of tattoo sleeve, all the pieces moving where his muscles flex, twitching, synchronizing with each other, making his chest tense as well, as your eyes sweep from the long line of his neck, massive stretch of his shoulders, catching on his nipples, shy pink in color, flushing over his rugged face as well.

of his touch, calloused thumb chaffing over your sensitive nub, twitching at the every movement, fingers splayed over your pubic bone, as he glides his thumb lower, over the cleft of your cunt, sopping wet in need, pooling with viscous slick, and nudges in, scooping the tacky wetness, smearing it over your fluttering folds, teasing at your entrance till you keen over, tongue weak in your parted mouth, body seizing, shivering.

so real, the heaviness of simon's bending body searing warm, brush of his chapped lips and outgrowing stubble tickling over the tender skin at the slope of your neck, dipping at where he mouthes carefully at your sternum, kisses lingering, with blooming bruises and damp from his saliva, after being sucked in between sharp teeth's to leave a hickey, and your hands shoot forward, looping tight around his shoulders, fingers digging, cradling through buzzed, short hairs at his sensitive nape, pricking your fingers.

your eyes flutter open at the heavy grunt, strained growl of your name, an answer to your own delirious babble that calls for simon, bleary, lost gaze accommodating slowly to the opaque darkness of your room, and he's hovering over, looking just the way he used to in your fantasy, eyes crinkling in easy delight, mirth, and you know that there was no dream, he's right there.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[dmitriene]

viktor is used to bite the hand that feeds him — unconsciously, too harshly, self protectively, because this is the only thing he can do, the only thing that his whole life has taught him, not to believe in gratuitous kindness, sincere intentions, especially in relation to someone like him, broken, having nothing, a lamb among wolves, no matter how strong he is from the inside

jayce, on the contrary, is the one who feeds — gentle, caring, always at your back when you're sure there's no one to help, and it's stuns viktor, how often is he around, at the most necessary moments, when everything is collapsing, the calculations do not add up, leg aches, temples are ringing, and viktor wants to either scream or curl up and sob, when immediately his fragile shoulder get's squeezed in a warm, heavy palm

a small thing, ferocious and baring it's sharp teeth's already stirs inside of viktor, ready to bite — clawing out from his tender insides, shying away from the touch, from encouraging words, from tender inquiries, from straightforward words of “i can help you, viktor”, he just has to say his word, but he can't, not with his throat constricting, palms sweating, an urge to flee so strong he feels the cane wouldn't be needed, and that's how everytime it's ends

viktor avoids, hobbles away, scowls to mask the twitch at the corners of his lips, and still he starts to warm up, the urge to bite turning into a need to nuzzle — as he finds himself going lax at jayce's touches, rubbing thumbs close to his nape, at how he brings him lunch, something he buyed or his mom made for both of them, supports his weight, when his body wobbles after sitting for too long

viktor takes it all, and when they find each other too close, closer than they ever could've be, breaths mingling in nervous, puffing clouds, redness on their cheeks mirroring, colored with fragile newness of it all, jayce reaches to swipe his palm up from viktor's wrist to his shoulder, chasing the patch to his beautifully rosy blooming cheek

asking “should i stop? i'll do whatever you want” to be meet with viktor's uncertain, lost gaze, amber eyes burning so brightly, like shattered stone itself meet with the rays of light, with his lips parted, moist from being licked nervously, at attempt of finding any answer, yes or no, but he doesn't has any — and instead of forcing something feeble, viktor leans in, drawn to jayce until there's no space between them, needing to breath and gasp in his plump lips, tongue prodding.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[dmitriene]

god do i love the witcher 3

huusbaand 🤭

[dmitriene]

huusbaand 🤭

[dmitriene]

distant inspiration plink

cw: dark romance.

professor simon ghost riley luring his sweet student in his apartment, you're nothing but a pretty, timid doll under his wing, trying your hardest on his lectures and in the projects he gives to the class, through, you do struggle, as much as others, but unlike them, you're the only one to get a special offer of help, an invite for some personal lesson.

he's used to quickly memorizing faces, knowing each of his students by sight, and this is quite convenient to figure out those who do not do the necessary projects or those who rarely appear at lectures, it wasn't even that hard to remember you, especially with your quiet, respectful demeanor and pretty outfits, some fluttering, little skirts, ruffled blouses, calling him with short and shy words, politely adressing him as sir or mister riley.

you didn't had a single clue just about how much your professor took a liking to you, heavy, almost jaded eyes tracing over every little thing you do, how your eyebrows knit together in a tiny, confused frown, how your eyes, serene and often looking at him all wide and innocent, squinted at some words written over the desk, the way you worry your plump, lower lip beneath your teeth's, just a single sight of you and simon is already frustratingly hard in his trousers.

it's just the most obvious choice when you turn to simon for help, padding towards his desk with a melodious clatter of short heels, he always been considerate, fixing your mistakes without chastising you, giving you little tips and occasional soothing glances, eyes softened and fluttering with something gentle, caring from behind rectangular glasses that sometimes compliment his features, so when you murmur that you struggle with current project, feeling as if you missed something, he offers you to meet together outside the academy, and you agree.

simon just got you where he wanted, complimenting the dull, minimalistic space of his apartment with your pretty face, body hunched, almost curled in from nervousness, but it's nothing a couple of gentle words and brief touches wouldn't soothe, his calloused fingertips at your quivering knee as you try to focus on his opened laptop, asking him some questions he doesn't tries to answer at all, because why wouldn't you two relax first.

you can bounce a little bit on his lap, his cock bottomed out fully in your pliable, stretched cunt, weepy with dripping slick, pulsing a rapid, quick rhythm and engulfing his meaty girth tight, dragging your rippling walls over the veiny root each time you lift your body up, plump ass plopping with ringing slaps on his tense, muscular thighs, your nails sinking in the scarred, dusted with peach fuzzed hairs skin, holding upwards as the pleasure buzzes through your every nerve.

keen that it's wrong all you want, but you're already cumming so fast around him, crying his name, clamping and pulling at his throbbing cock with your squeezing, vicious heat, still plopping up and down as simon's wide, calloused palms hold you from beneath your perchy ass, smoothing over your rumpled skirt, supporting your unsteady weight as your thighs squeeze together, pussy too sensitive, full and flooded with warm spurts of his cum, making your tummy tingle.

simon will make sure your project is all secured, just spread your shiny, shivering thighs and show how his meaty cock stretches out the thin, tender flesh of your pussy, the nub of your clit all engorged and twitchy, and what professor he would be to neglect his precious student, reaching out to thumb roughly at the peeking bud, and it's enough to make you stay, curling against his chest as he toyed out all the remaining orgasms from your limping body.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[dmitriene]

distant inspiration plink

cw: dark romance.

professor simon ghost riley luring his sweet student in his apartment, you're nothing but a pretty, timid doll under his wing, trying your hardest on his lectures and in the projects he gives to the class, through, you do struggle, as much as others, but unlike them, you're the only one to get a special offer of help, an invite for some personal lesson.

he's used to quickly memorizing faces, knowing each of his students by sight, and this is quite convenient to figure out those who do not do the necessary projects or those who rarely appear at lectures, it wasn't even that hard to remember you, especially with your quiet, respectful demeanor and pretty outfits, some fluttering, little skirts, ruffled blouses, calling him with short and shy words, politely adressing him as sir or mister riley.

you didn't had a single clue just about how much your professor took a liking to you, heavy, almost jaded eyes tracing over every little thing you do, how your eyebrows knit together in a tiny, confused frown, how your eyes, serene and often looking at him all wide and innocent, squinted at some words written over the desk, the way you worry your plump, lower lip beneath your teeth's, just a single sight of you and simon is already frustratingly hard in his trousers.

it's just the most obvious choice when you turn to simon for help, padding towards his desk with a melodious clatter of short heels, he always been considerate, fixing your mistakes without chastising you, giving you little tips and occasional soothing glances, eyes softened and fluttering with something gentle, caring from behind rectangular glasses that sometimes compliment his features, so when you murmur that you struggle with current project, feeling as if you missed something, he offers you to meet together outside the academy, and you agree.

simon just got you where he wanted, complimenting the dull, minimalistic space of his apartment with your pretty face, body hunched, almost curled in from nervousness, but it's nothing a couple of gentle words and brief touches wouldn't soothe, his calloused fingertips at your quivering knee as you try to focus on his opened laptop, asking him some questions he doesn't tries to answer at all, because why wouldn't you two relax first.

you can bounce a little bit on his lap, his cock bottomed out fully in your pliable, stretched cunt, weepy with dripping slick, pulsing a rapid, quick rhythm and engulfing his meaty girth tight, dragging your rippling walls over the veiny root each time you lift your body up, plump ass plopping with ringing slaps on his tense, muscular thighs, your nails sinking in the scarred, dusted with peach fuzzed hairs skin, holding upwards as the pleasure buzzes through your every nerve.

keen that it's wrong all you want, but you're already cumming so fast around him, crying his name, clamping and pulling at his throbbing cock with your squeezing, vicious heat, still plopping up and down as simon's wide, calloused palms hold you from beneath your perchy ass, smoothing over your rumpled skirt, supporting your unsteady weight as your thighs squeeze together, pussy too sensitive, full and flooded with warm spurts of his cum, making your tummy tingle.

simon will make sure your project is all secured, just spread your shiny, shivering thighs and show how his meaty cock stretches out the thin, tender flesh of your pussy, the nub of your clit all engorged and twitchy, and what professor he would be to neglect his precious student, reaching out to thumb roughly at the peeking bud, and it's enough to make you stay, curling against his chest as he toyed out all the remaining orgasms from your limping body.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[dmitriene]

a blurb

cat hybrid viktor that get's accustomed to intimacy with jayce slowly — a scratch behind his twitching, alert fluffy ear, a glide of warm and wide palm down his shuddering spine, a kiss to his temple, cuddling session on jayce's muscular lap and viktor's body vibrating from purrs, shaking from the force

not long until he acts like a needy, utterly domesticated thing, and when viktor starts licking and biting at jayce's neck — it's a short patch to him starting cockwarming jayce's cock and flicking his tail around while being bounced on slowly, each glide sopping wet from the amount of his dripping slick, body curled almost dazedly on the firm thighs beneath

main masterlist. quidelines.