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dewitty1 · 2 years

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Liar

jad

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

Additional Tags: Bisexuality, UST, Denial, Angst with a happy ending (I swear), D/s, Guilt, some more angst for good measure, Minor Character Death, off-stage suicide, Infidelity (requested), kinda-sorta-dub-con (if you squint), Canon Compliant, HP: Epilogue Compliant, (SERIOUSLY), (shocked me too)

Language: English

Collections: HD-Holidays 2012

Words:50341

Summary:

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy always preferred the worst of each other; unfortunately, they had better halves.

Excerpt:

“It’s all right,” Harry said again, tugging Malfoy’s hands free from his hair by the wrists.

“No, it isn't,” Malfoy said again. Harry did notice it wasn't the same kind of no, and Malfoy didn’t stop Harry from slipping his hand under his shirt at the waist. His skin felt fever-hot, and broke out in gooseflesh under Harry’s fingertips.

“Why?” Harry asked, leaning up, tucking his face inside the crook of Malfoy’s neck. “Because it’s wrong?” he said, lips brushing the edge of the scar there. “Or because we shouldn’t?”

“Potter,” Malfoy started again.

“Or is it just because you’re a fucking coward?” Harry growled, tracing the curve of Malfoy’s neck with his nose.

“We can’t − ” Malfoy stopped and swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing against Harry’s mouth.

“Stop saying that,” Harry said. “I’m tired of fighting this.”

“I’m not.”

“Liar.”

“Potter,” Malfoy said again, closing his eyes, “please − ”

“Please what?” Harry murmured against his neck, drunk on his smell and dying to taste it. “Please stop?” Harry bared his teeth and dragged them along Malfoy’s skin, just hard enough to leave two trails of red he soothed with a quick swipe of his tongue. Malfoy tasted of tang and sweat and shuddered as Harry trailed further down towards his collar. “Or please don’t?”

“Merlin help me,” Malfoy snarled, seizing Harry by the hair and pulling him up. “I fucking hate you,” he whispered into Harry’s mouth, and Harry kissed him.

It was, truthfully, the last thing Harry had been expecting to do. He’d sort of been running on autopilot before, not really planning out his moves, and sticking his tongue in Malfoy’s mouth wasn’t something he’d ever really contemplated. Touching his scar, tasting his skin, finding out if his legs really were as long as they looked − yes, those things had crossed his mind. But snogging?

Kissing Draco Malfoy was very different from kissing his wife. Malfoy’s nose got in the way, for one, pressing painfully against Harry’s and knocking his glasses askew. He also used his teeth more, catching at Harry’s lips and nipping hard enough to bruise. Harry twisted a hand in the hem of Malfoy’s shirt and pulled him in, sucking fiercely on Malfoy’s tongue when he swept it inside Harry’s mouth.

Malfoy’s fingers pulled sharply at his hair, and the pain lanced down Harry’s spine to his prick like a jolt of electricity.

Harry didn’t even remember moving, just felt the impact through Malfoy’s body as Harry slammed him into the hardwood floor. Malfoy cursed and tightened his grip on Harry’s hair, tugging him down and Harry bore down on him, one hand sliding under his shirt. Malfoy groaned and arched into the touch, his hands sliding down to clutch at Harry’s hips even as he chanted: “No, no, no, fuck Potter, we can’t − ”

Harry grabbed his wrists and dragged them over his head, encircling them in one hand. Malfoy didn’t go easy − he fought, and he was stronger than he looked, but Harry had more weight and gravity was on his side. Harry was straddling him, but once he got Malfoy’s arms out of the way, he shifted, sliding his right thigh between Malfoy’s legs and pressing down hard with his hip.

Malfoy’s head slammed back into the floor, exposing the long line of his neck for Harry to explore. He hissed when Harry bit down on the junction of his shoulder and sucked a bruise, all the while grinding hard into his groin. Even through their clothes, Harry could feel the hard length of Malfoy’s cock against his navel.

“I hate you,” Malfoy hissed into Harry’s open mouth.

Harry sucked his lower lip into his mouth, and bit down hard. “Liar.”

(ू′o‵ ू)*✲ﾟ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆♡ོ

#Liart by Jad #Drarry #Drarry fic rec #fic rec #hp fic rec #drarry fanfiction #hp fanfiction #hp #draco malfoy #harry potter #tw infidelity #drarry smut #hp smut #Carey's bookmark fic recs #Carey's personal Bookmarks

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sapphicsunfox · 8 months

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no puedo creer que manifesté la historia de mis ocs this is not what I wanted

#puedes c*liarte a es(a) gring(a) todo lo que quieras pero nunca tr va a hacer sentir como yo #soy diego no puede ser

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liebgotts-lovergirl · 5 months

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Fire On Fire: Chapter 28

(Ch. 27) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: “If we could light up the room with pain, we’d be such a glorious fire.” - Ada Limon

WARNINGS: Graphic Violence, Death, Espionage, Survivor's Guilt, the usual.

A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken me fucking FOREVER to get this out, y'all! A LOT has been going on in these past months (the demise of a longterm relationship, renovations on my house, new jobs etc) but I hope this is worth the wait! 💖

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @bellewintersroe @emmythespacecowgirl @holdingforgeneralhugs @parajumpboots @hxad-ovxr-hxart @sleepisforcowards @suugrbunz @ax-elcfucker-blog @chaosklutz @mads-weasley @vibing-away @eightysix-baby @ithinkabouttzu @emmylindersson @flowers-and-fichte

Contemporary: Midnight, December 3rd, 1944. Liart Station, France.

When the door to her private train compartment was opened, Alix made a silent promise to herself: As soon as the war was over, she was turning in her goddamn resignation letter to the OSS and going home. She couldn’t handle any more surprises on the job, not like this one.

“Sorry, I’m late, gorgeous," a lowered voice had remarked wryly as soon as the compartment door slid shut once more.

"You wouldn’t believe the traffic.”

The whisper came from a young man in a heavy coat who casually dropped into the seat next to her as though he belonged there. The dark brim of his fedora was pulled low over his eyes, casting his face in shadow, but she didn’t need to see its entirety to know who it was; she would recognize that gravelly voice anywhere.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded out of the corner of her mouth, making sure to keep her expression neutral as she flipped through her newspaper and fought the urge to smack the newcomer with it.

“Thought Nix woulda told ya,” Liebgott looked almost amused, a smirk playing on his lips.

He too spoke out of the corner of his mouth; someone had taught him well.

“Donovan needed an interrogator with an Austrian dialect. Said this one’s gonna be a real doozy. Called me in as a temp.”

Alix’s dark eyes narrowed, causing her blue contacts to sting.

“You’re the floater? You’re–”

“Lieutenant Fritz Eberhardt,” he finished with a nod, casually taking his right hand out of his pocket to reveal the worn, silver skull ring of the Werwolf Kommandos, engraved with the tell-tale motto of the SS:

‘Meine Ehre Heisst Treue’.

My Honor Means Loyalty.

How ironic.

The paratrooper and translator shot her a roguish wink, leaning back with an arm stretched out lazily along the back of his seat like nothing was wrong.

“I've been assigned to accompany you to your Paris engagement, Fraulein."

The spy stiffened.

This was the first time that she could recall ever seeing Joe out of uniform and it would be a shame to get blood all over his nice coat but sweet Jesus, Alix was about ready to make that sacrifice.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the auburn-haired girl muttered under her breath. “You’re going to get us both killed.”

“You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me,” Joe chuckles. “Trust me-”

"Right, because that's gone so well for me before," the spy snapped sharper than intended.

Joe's eyebrows shot to the compartment ceiling, his cocky demeanor gone in a flash, replaced by a sudden scowl.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

Before Alix could find the words to reply, the shrill whistle of the train screamed out, indicating their departure from Liart Station and the spy took a shaky breath, hearing the rumbling of the wheels on the track underneath them.

She was stuck with him now.

Trying to ignore the ache in her chest at Joe's unexpected presence, Alix tried to force her unfocused eyes to stare at the newspaper in her hands but the words only blurred before her.

"Didja do a bug sweep already?" Joe inquired with a casual yawn as he glanced across her to the window, while Alix flipped the page of her newspaper so hard that she nearly tore it.

"Of course I did," the spy answered indignantly, unable to contain her irritation.

"That's why you were supposed to come early: to help me look. Listening devices could've been anywhere in here."

“Don’t gimme that shit,” Joe scoffed in an almost dismissive tone as he tapped the filter of his Reemtsma cigarette.

“Since the liberation, the Krauts have lost a lot of resources and stick to their secret little underground social clubs or whatever. I got the whole rundown from HQ.”

Alix huffed.

Joe was right, damn him.

While on the surface, France had cleaned up its act, the rotten undergrowth of Nazis and their collaborators remained, festering beneath the surface.

The chances of them taking the time to bug train compartments were miniscule at best.

“Still,” she responded with a petulant roll of her eyes. “You should’ve been here on time. You never know.”

"Yeah, well you ain't the only one with shit to take care of, okay? I got held up."

Alix's dark eyes flickered up from her newspaper.

"Define 'held up'," she said coolly, an undeniably bitter edge to her tone. “What, pray tell, was so pressing?”

Joe crossed his arms and took a long drag off his cigarette before replying snippily,

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Tatiana.”

"It's Tanya, Alix snapped before flipping another page on her newspaper as though she were reading it instead of boring holes into Joe’s face.

“And I would like to know, actually. Because I'd like to think you wouldn't be late to your first assignment without a good reason but maybe I don't know you as well as I thought."

“Fine.”

Joe's warm brown eyes were suddenly as hard as the wood paneling in the compartment they shared but he shifted the side of his coat up nonetheless, just enough to show a huge cherry-red stain that had blossomed across one side of his ribs.

"There, that a good enough reason for ya?"

“Madonna mia!” Alix exclaimed, all pretense of anger gone in a flash. “What the hell happened?! Are you alright?”

Joe shrugged nonchalantly.

“Somebody did a shit job friskin' the prisoners so ol' Jerry got to bring a fuckin' boot knife with him to interrogation,” he muttered as he readjusted his coat. "'S not as bad as it looks.”

"Did you have Gene take a look at it?" Alix asked, eyeing his red-soaked shirt with concern. "That's a lot of blood…"

"No, I didn't have 'Gene' look at it," Joe shot back, a mocking edge to his voice as he spat the medic's name, biting down on his cigarette.

"’S fine. Barely a scratch."

The auburn-haired girl snorted, unable to keep the skepticism out of her tone.

"Right, and I'm the Queen of England."

The translator took a long drag, his expression unreadable.

“Well, I ain’t your problem anymore,Your Majesty,” he remarked sardonically as he let the smoke curl into the air.

"So you can lay off."

“You’ll always be my problem,” Alix grumbled under her breath and the pair lapsed into a chilly silence, broken only by the occasional rustling of the newspaper under her fingertips and the rumbling of the train on the tracks.

Still keeping her head angled downward to avoid that familiar ache that seemed to rise in her chest whenever she looked him in the face, Alix let herself study the compartment instead.

In truth, their private compartment was borderline ostentatious – plush maroon upholstery upon the seating, rich mahogany paneling upon the walls, thick velvet curtains adorning the windows to keep the outside world at bay– but the spy could barely concentrate on the luxurious decor either.

Instead, she found herself studying Joe's hands. She still had only fleeting memories of him from before her fall but his hands were one of the few things she remembered the most.

They had been paler back in England, not yet marred by the blood and grime of the battlefield, the blue veins still snaking up the back all the way to his wrist. She remembered tangled sheets and breathless laughter as they each struggled to catch their breath. She remembered her own scarlet-polished nails tracing each vein in the hand resting beside her, feeling the way his pulse would quicken when she smiled at him.

His fingers were still as calloused and long as she remembered, almost graceful in their strength, and she could still feel the ghost of them interlocking with her own like missing puzzle pieces finally finding their way together.

There weren’t any more ink stains on his fingertips, Alix realized, and she was suddenly half-tempted to make a snide remark about chasing two girls and getting neither, but she kept her silence.

No need to make an already awkward situation worse, she thought as she chewed on her bottom lip.

Like it or not, they had a mission to complete.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

The French countryside seemed to pass by in blurs of green, gold, and blue, like the vibrant swirls of a priceless Van Gogh but Alix hardly noticed.

The spy had been fiddling with the worn handle of a discarded leather briefcase that had been left behind in the luggage rack under her seat. Beside her, Joe was violently twisting the Werwolf skull ring around and around upon his finger, wrenching it with such ferocity that it looked as though he might tear his finger off in the process.

"I hate this," he muttered bitterly, seemingly more to himself than to Alix as he glared down at his calloused hands.

"I fuckin' hate this."

"Hate what?" the spy inquired softly, cocking her head and allowing some of her auburn hair to fall over one shoulder.

Joe glanced up at the sound of her voice, clearly not expecting her to speak to him, but he recovered fast as ever.

"This," he replied simply, gesturing to the Werwolf skull ring.

"Wearing this. Gevalt, it makes me wanna claw my fuckin' skin off.”

Alix felt a pang of sympathy. She couldn’t even fathom the excruciating cognitive dissonance Joe must be experiencing right now, playing a role he despised…but why bother playing it in the first place?

Why put himself through the unnecessary pain? He was only a floater– a consultant– for this one mission. He had the power to back out at any time. It didn’t make sense but then, nothing about Joe seemed to make much sense lately.

Alix watched as he lit up another cigarette, his third in an hour, glaring across her, out the window at something unseen.

He was chainsmoking again, like he always did when he was agitated, and all she could do was let the silence sit and watch him wrench the skull ring harder and harder around his finger.

It was unsettling when Joe was quiet: his rage she could combat; his brooding she couldn’t.

The auburn-haired spy found herself sneaking quick glances over at him out of the corner of her eye, the tension hanging thick in the air around them like the early morning fog.

Surprisingly, Joe was the first to break.

“Look, you got somethin’ to say, just say it.”

“What is there to say?” Alix retorted, her grip on the briefcase’s handle tightening considerably.

“I’m perfectly capable of traveling on my own. I don't need a floater and I certainly don't need you.”

Joe crossed his arms and leaned his head back against the seat.

“Well tell that to Donovan then, ziskeit,” he yawns.

"'Cause I got orders to watch your six till the job's done."

Alix opened her mouth to complain but she was interrupted by a light knocking on the compartment door and Joe immediately shoved his right hand deep into his pocket to hide the infamous skull ring.

A disgruntled train attendant appeared, regarding both Joe and Alix with the same beady, bloodshot stare as he stepped inside, sliding the door shut behind him.

“Papers,” the Frenchman demanded with an outstretched hand.

Alix nodded with a casual “Certainement” and set aside the discarded briefcase, retrieving her false identification from her handbag and passing it to the man with what she hoped was a convincingly haughty eyeroll.

The attendant--whose yellowed nametag identified him as Guillaume-- wore a peevish expression almost identical to their old CO, Captain Sobel, which brought a smirk to Alix's face.

The thought of the sadistic superior officer who had made their lives hell for so long being reduced to a glorified bellhop punching tickets and checking IDs was enough to bring them both a smidgen of joy.

Her gaze flickered over to Joe, who returned the smirk with one of his own, the inside joke seeming to almost bridge the gap between them.

The attendant skimmed over Alix's paperwork, handing it back to her without issue, and then it was Joe's turn.

“You, identification.”

Compliantly, Joe dug into his jacket pocket for his passport with his left hand but as he passed the small booklet to the attendant, it slipped from his fingers toward the carpet.

Automatically, the translator’s dominant hand shot out of his right pocket to intercept them but it was too late: the skull ring on his right hand was in full view.

The attendant swore as he snatched up Joe’s fake Austrian passport, staring down at it and back to the tell-tale ring as his face reddened with rage.

“Y-You-” he snarled, his lip curled in disgust and a gloved finger shaking as he pointed at Joe. “You are-”

“Wha- No, no!” Joe protested, immediately reaching out for his passport back in a desperate bid to quiet him.

“I’m not-”

But the Frenchman shoved him off roughly and spat an anti-German epithet at him as Joe’s back hit the seat.

“Boche!”

Joe’s eyes narrowed instantly at the slur and he came back strong, lunging forward to seize the attendant by the collar but Alix stood up, trying to shove her way between them to keep the scuffle from getting out of hand.

The auburn-haired spy could smell the heavy stench of cheap wine on the older man's breath as she separated the pair and she knew there was no reasoning with him.

The drunken attendant spun on his heel, immediately heading for the compartment door, his final words slurred as his rage boiled over.

“Filthy swine! Nazi pig! You-”

Alix felt a block of ice drop into her stomach as the man’s large, gloved hand reached the door handle.

It was no secret that since the liberation, people of German extraction weren't exactly welcome in most of French polite society.

The épuration sauvage was in full-swing, thousands of suspected collaborators being beaten, tortured, and executed by incensed crowds of French people.

If this man went and ran his mouth off about a Werwolf Kommando on the train, Joe could be mobbed as soon as he set foot outside their compartment.

This chilling revelation seemed to flip a switch in Alix’s brain: If the man left their compartment, Joe’s life could be in danger.

She couldn’t take that risk.

Slipping behind the drunken attendant with the silent ease of a tigress, the world seemed to slow around her as her training kicked in. Hopping onto the seat for a better vantage point, Alix reached out and yanked the attendant backwards into the compartment by the collar.

The man staggered a couple steps back, thrown off-balance in his surprise, just close enough for Alix to deftly slice the small blade of her lipstick knife across his throat.

The weapon reached the targeted arteries with surgical precision, right below the larynx. Now unable to scream, the man could only gasp and gargle as his legs gave out and he sank downwards toward the carpet in a heap. Following him down to the ground, Alix gathered the excess fabric of her dress's skirt and slapped the material over the wound to stifle the bright arcs of blood that were spurting out like a gruesome fountain.

The pale lace was already growing heavy, turning from an icy blue to a deep, blood-soaked maroon, the arterial spray oozing through the delicate material slower and slower as the man’s heart gradually stopped beating.

Then the attendant went limp, his jaw falling slack as a sickening gurgle emanated from his cut throat, and the auburn-haired spy knew he was gone.

No loose ends, she told herself inwardly, repeating the instructions of her superiors over and over like a mantra in her head.

He could have gotten Joe killed. You did the right thing.

But did she?

She didn’t even remember pulling the knife, not really.

Not that it mattered: a civilian was still dead.

Alix’s hands were shaking as she stared down at the attendant’s lifeless form, too scared to see the shock and revulsion written all over Joe’s handsome face.

He’d never seen her kill, after all.

If he didn’t hate her before, he most certainly would now.

But when she finally looked up, there was nothing like that.

No disgust, no outrage, no fear.

Instead, there was the same old glint to his gaze and an unspoken warmth in his whiskey-brown eyes that filled her with a strange calm.

“Well ya didn’t hafta do all that, Zees,” Joe remarked finally as a small, lopsided smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“But I ‘preciate it. Nice to know you care.”

“I don’t,” the auburn-haired girl muttered as she knelt, quickly rifling through the corpse’s bloodied uniform for anything useful.

A billfold full of francs and an identification card from the train company.

Alix handed the wallet over to Joe, averting her gaze to ignore the way her pulse quickened at the brush of their fingertips.

“He was putting the mission in jeopardy,” she added lamely and straightened up, shifting the thick curtains to the side so she could undo the window’s latch.

“Yeah?” Joe snorted as he dragged the lifeless body by its outstretched arms to the open window and turned back to shoot her a sly wink over his shoulder.

His usual crooked grin quirked up one corner of his lips wryly, almost flirtatiously, and the knowing expression in his whiskey-colored eyes caused a small flurry of butterflies to appear once more in her stomach.

It was like he could see right through her.

“Well Ziskeit, ‘the mission’ thanks you.”

With a grunt, the scrappy paratrooper managed to haul the corpse half onto the window’s ledge before turning back to his partner.

“Now let's get this mamzer dealt with, huh?”

Alix hoisted the corpse's legs up, giving it a final, unceremonious shove out the window, sending it rolling down into the snowy French countryside somewhere.

That was one problem taken care of...But unfortunately, there were more where that came from.

"Madonna mia," Alix swore as she frowned down at the blood-spattered blue material of her dress.

“I gotta dump this somewhere.”

Joe took his seat again and shrugged, watching Alix's nimble fingers close the window once more and re-draw the curtains.

“So change then."

The auburn-haired girl balked, nearly losing her footing in her surprise.

“Right now?"

“Nah, next Tuesday,” the paratrooper deadpanned with a melodramatic roll of his eyes. “Christ, Zees, you're actin' like I ain't ever seen ya undress before. Hey, remember that one night at your billet when-”

“Don’t remind me,” Alix muttered, the infuriatingly obvious blush of her cheeks making her grit her teeth as the night he is referring to comes back in vivid colors.

She shook her head to banish the memories, her straightened auburn hair tumbling down her shoulders.

"Besides, it was a long time ago anyway. It doesn't matter now."

The lie tasted bitter as cyanide.

"Yeah?" Joe took another slow drag off his cigarette, watching the smoke curl up to the ceiling before he spoke again, his raspy tenor flat with thinly-veiled hurt.

"Guess that's the difference between you an' me. 'Cause to me, it matters a fuckin' lot."

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queerstudiesnatural · 1 year

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some of my favourite art from y'all <3

everyone check out these incredible showstopping spectacular drawings of my favourite little guys :)

uriel by @dualityofcastiel

destiel shotgunning by @ghosthan

cas by @demonlandline

jodydonna by @badw

jimmy by @extremely-inappropriate-arts

art nouveau bela by @julidiot

benny by @gayvampiratebenny aka @mrcowboydeanwinchester

rowena by @demonlandline

sam by @cryptidmax

jack and moominmamma by @dualityofcastiel

cas by @liart-ez

van gogh dean by @sailorsally

gardener cas by @crowtrail

brokeback destiel by @marigoldtrigger

dead in the water stills by @art-rover

destiel by @demonlandline

cas by @sonorousangels

#these live in my head rent free #+ others definitely but these are the ones i could think of for now #art #go give all of those people some love <3 #rain posts #spn art #supernatural art

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c-o-n-s-e-j-o-s · 5 months

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Hola! Necesito un consejo :( llevo años con mi novio y hace poco empecé a sentir atracción por uno de nuestros amigos en común. Amo mucho a mi novio, no pienso ni quiero engañarle o dejarle, pues sé que quiero un futuro junto a él y sé que la atracción es momentánea, pero cómo hago para superarla? El solo hecho de pensar en que mi amigo algún día nos presentará a una novia me pone mal. Gracias!

Pienso que esa atracción se puede deber a varias cosas: que ese sea tu tipo de hombre también, que algo esté faltando en tu relación para que te estés embobando con otro hombre, que ya estés cansada de tu novio pero no quieres aceptarlo o admitirlo, entre otras cosas. Es completamente normal sentirse atraído/a a otras personas mientras estás en una relación porque solo piensas en lo bien que se ve esa otra persona pero eso es todo. Ahora bien, sentir y actuar en base a esos sentimientos es otro asunto. Falta de respeto a tu pareja diría yo.

Acciones como buscar momentos a solas con esa otra persona, hablarle de forma íntima, coquetearle, imaginarte con esa persona en algún escenario o querer liarte con el a escondidas si es considerado infidelidad. Es muy posible que estés desarrollando sentimientos por ese amigo según lo que me cuentas pero si de verdad amas a tu pareja y quieres seguir con el, debes trabajar en tu relación.

Algo ahí debe de estar faltando y sería bueno que limites tu contacto con ese amigo hasta que lo veas como otro tipo normal y no como una posibilidad, porque cuando uno siente celos de alguien con quien no está significa que una parte de ti está jugando con la idea de estar con él y hay pensamientos que se vuelven acciones. Para evitar cosas, uno tiene que aprender a enfocarse en lo importante (tu relación en este caso) y no en terceros. Te deseo lo mejor en tu vida y que te vaya bien. Cuídate mucho, cariño.

Mona.

#blog de consejos #recomendaciones #pensamientos #consejos de mona #anónimo #consejos #ayuda #en tu orbita

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tengomilpalabrasparati · 8 months

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Gracias Rosa que sería yo sin vos?. Bueno ya me conoces, sabes todo de mí. Sabes que no me entiendo porqué viví asfixiada por mi família, es difícil conocerse cuándo estas pegada de otras personas que no te permiten mover. En realidad a mis padres no les cuento mis planes porqué siempre me tiran abajó. La verdad estoy mal porqué cambié pero ya no sé que me mueve, además del hecho de irme, a ver si así puedo tener una vida, en eso me voy a enfocar. Y tienes razón es difícil conocer a alguien que solo vez los fines de semana, lo vi el sábado y el domingo, el domingo lo acompañé a su trabajó, no es fácil él planta y vende pero la vida de campo no es fácil. Él me presento a sus amigos, por eso no creó que me mienta, me disculpe con él y me dijo que no me iba a molestar más, no sé cómo sentirme con ésta situación, podríamos haber sido amigos pero ya no sé nada. A que nunca sospechaste que era yo??. 🤣. A veces te escribo en anonimo porqué soy muy pesada. Es un momento de resurrección para mí, no quiero ver a nadie, tengo mucho rencor a los demás y a mí. Ojalá mí familia nunca vea todo lo que te escribí, hasta mal me siento de quejarme de ellos.

Kari, ¿Eres tu la chica del anillo?

Si desde el principio me dices que eres tu, yo ya tengo referencias porque te conozco, de lo contrario he tenido que hacer un nuevo esquema en mi cabeza

Me has liado mucho

🙈

No eres pesada, solo te desahogas y eso es bueno, pero hazlo como TU y no como otra persona, porque de lo contrario lo único que hago es perderme yo y liarte más a ti

Se lo que has tenido que pasar, y por desgracia la familia no se elige, y solo porque sean familia no quiere decir que te caigan bien, por eso hay que buscar el punto intermedio para una convivencia sana y cuando no se consigue, una intenta irse de cas, porque la vida funciona así, llega un momento en que una persona necesita su propia libertad, no dar explicaciones y espabilar ante la vida.

No has tenido apoyo, ni te han motivado ni animado, eres la hija ancla que ellos han criado y con lo cual tu te has conformado.

Siempre te he animado a emprender cosas, ha aprender, experimentar, probar ... y lo sigo haciendo

De haber sabido que eras tu, te hubiera aconsejado que hubieses seguido adelante con este chico, porque la situación de cada persona es diferente y tu no eres "la chica del anillo", eres Kari, y quizás una pareja sea la única manera de sacarte de casa

No en las condiciones que deberían ser las adecuadas, porque siempre te digo que lo ideal es tener una economía propia y no depender del marido y así si la relación no funciona tu eres libre de irte, de lo contrario podrías repetir la historia de tus padres y quedarte atada a una persona que no te trata como mereces.

Pero estás a tiempo de conocerlo a pesar de haberlo mareado bastante

Conociéndolo con tranquilidad puedes llegar a saber si es buena persona y sobre todo ver el como te trata.

A ti no te gusta que te agobien demasiado, quizás el verse una o dos veces por semana te vendría bien

Mejor lo buscas en persona y te disculpas por haber sido tan indecisa y le dices que tras pensarlo bien, crees que sería una buena idea conoceros mejor y ver que ocurre.

Puede que tengas SUERTE y sea un buen hombre, trabajador y respetuoso, que te ofrezca una vivienda en la que ser feliz

Quizás sea este el cuento de hadas que esperas, tu oportunidad para independizarte y aunque no tengas cash, si la relación no funcionara, sabes que siempre estarán tus padres para acogerte.

Me has vuelto loca Kari con "la chica del anillo"

#arte-inmortal #kari #ask #chat #la chica del anillo

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sunny--1667 · 9 months

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Liart eht wolloF

22e78marble

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grubuckets · 9 months

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major league gaymer <3

#suggestive #clover and moochie ty 4 helping me with some details <3 #this started off as a funny doodle haha sollux in sIut position tehe ٩( 'ω' )و #THREE FUCKING POINT PERSPECTIVE #I CANNOT #I CANT LOOK AT VANISHING POINTS ANYMORE 😭#homestuck #sollux #vaguely discord kitten au #sollux captor #anyway i MIGHT color this some day #because this is like. zine tier drawing for me 💀#and i dont wanna do that rn lol #liart

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tavyliasin · 4 months

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ATG 7 - Love? Lust.

In which the devil gets his due...

Pairing: Raphael/Haarlep SPICE Rating: 4.5/5 I pulled it from my soul somehow (side note I should review this rating considering my later works, this was at the time of writing) Content Warnings: Sex, rough sex, BDSM, Bondage, Anger, power play, mild choking,

Spoilers Act 3, House of Hope area and character appearance of Haarlep Canon Compliance Canon Level "Hahaha! NO." (Please read that as Haarlep in that scene.) - The only canon is in the backstory of Raphael and Haarlep's relationship and their dynamics. It is chaotic to me how we don't see them share the screen but I can feel their whole hate/lust dynamic. Other Notes (From the original time of posting) Sometimes you just want an indulgent chapter to take off the brakes and let it roll right into the chaos because 2 fiends keep staring at you from the dark corner of your brain waiting to get laid while Tav indulges in the nice soft chapters. This one is dedicated to everyone else who went utterly hingeless when they met Haarlep, they are my favourite bitch and I love them forever. This is also a contrast to the previous chapter where our 2 mains choose love over lust together, there's absolutely no love here. That's not how these two like to play. And that's fine, it works for them like this. ADDITIONAL NOTE - This was the first piece I wrote for Raphael and Haarlep, that solidified the brainrot for both. I found writing their interactions positively intoxicating and have not wanted to stop since. Song/Mood Phantom by NateWantsToBattle "Make no mistake, I'll break you down (Whoa-oh-oh, whoa-oh-oh) Shout it around town I'm not what you want But I'm exactly what you need Take a bite and feed Your satisfaction guaranteed. I'm your sunshine, whoa I'm gonna burn down your parade I'm a shooting star That wish you wished you never made"

----- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT -----

Another impossible slam of an ethereal portal almost startled the demon reclining on silk sheets. They smirked. This was going to be an amusing evening.

The slammer of the door, however, had no such look on his face. His brows were lowered, that little vein on his forehead almost visibly throbbing beneath his skin, the physical heat of his rage warming the room by several degrees. An impressive feat given the mansion was in Avernus, one of the literal Nine Hells, with a…well, perhaps not beautiful but at least in some ways breathtaking view of fields of lava from the open balcony door.

With a gesture, Raphael dismissed the portal fully, the shimmering mist dissolving into nothing. He gazed at his likeness, looking at him over the top of a wine glass. No, not looking. Haarlep was judging him again.

"I'm in no mood for your insolence, Harlot ." He spat the insult from tight lips, yet still approached the bed and sat beside his devilish double. Even whilst still in his human form, the resemblance was remarkable, and if Raphael decided to transform into his true fiendish body then it would be almost like looking in a mirror. Almost . Somehow Haarlep made his own form just a little more alluring, a little too perfect, perhaps. He had no doubt this was all a part of the game the incubus liked to play, so he pictured the board and moved his pawns like always.

"I thought you'd be happy!" Haarlep laughed, offering a fresh glass to their cambion companion as they echoed his own voice. "Didn't you get exactly what you wanted?"

"Yes. No. Fuck you. "

"Hah! Now that's a good one." The incubus shifted their physical body to the form of the Archduchess, a twisted feminine version of Raphael, to give him an extra sultry gaze. "Fuck me yourself, if you dare."

"Insolent little… How easily you forget that I outrank you." Raphael took the wine and drained it in one gulp, throwing the empty vessel unceremoniously across the room.

"Temper, temper~" Haarlep purred, shifting their body back to the masculine form and leaning over Raphael. To make a point, he assumed. "You might outrank me out there , but that's not how things work in here and you know that." They pressed a clawed hand against Raphael's human chest, their weight bearing down for a moment with intense strength, before releasing the grip and drifting their hand to his chin instead. "Now, how about you tell me what happened, hmm? I've been dying to hear how it went."

"As if you weren't scrying the entire time." The human formed devil muttered darkly, shifting slightly where he lay, feeling uncomfortably warmer from being so close to his partner. "But if you must hear a bedtime story then so be it. She took the bait, almost too easily, and I gave them what they wanted."

"Naturally, you give them a taste," Haarlep punctuated the pause in their words with a tongue running up Raphael's ear before whispering the rest, "so now they'll crave more."

The demon ached as the incubus pulled away again, plucking a grape from the bunch and devouring it. Oh to be that grape- "Yes yes all according to plan. Whet their appetite, give them reason to trust, and reel them in with something much bigger."

"You're certain they can get what you want?" Haarlep raised an eyebrow, genuinely unsure this time. Something that didn't happen often with the cocky bastard.

"If they make it out of Moonrise and past Ketheric in one piece, then yes."

"And if they don't?" The incubus ran a clawed finger up the inside of his leg this time, trying to steal his ability to speak with the building desire, the achingly slow tease of everything they did.

Fuck, even their slutty harness is too- He stopped the thought, realising the pause was giving his lover everything they wanted. Too easily. "If they don't then Korilla owes me 5 soul coins, so either way I win."

"Should I be praising how astute your gamble is?" Haarlep's tone grew more mocking.

"Should I be praising how lustful you are? I know I have them right where I want them." He growled.

Haarlep began to loosen his fine silk clothes, nimble fingers finding ways to tease even with this. "And yet here you are, absolutely furious. Why? Do you think the Little Mouse might bite?"

Raphael clenched his fists in an involuntary display of rage. "If she does," he hissed through gritted teeth, "she will meet her end at my claws."

"Ahh there it is. Finally. You want to have your cake and eat it too."

"She's almost as infuriating as you are."

"My, my, Archduke , do you finally have eyes for someone besides yourself?" Haarlep was sounding more amused by the second, clearly enjoying seeing the fiend so riled up.

"Obviously not," he lied, "I'd like to take her down a peg. Maybe three, come to think of it."

"Well you can't risk damaging your toy before you have what you want, can you~" Haarlep purred, discarding the ruffled shirts that had now been removed. "Oh, your real form, if you please."

Doing as he was bidden automatically, Raphael's body almost instantly shifted to his demonic form, horns rising in twisted shapes above fiery crimson skin, and his still neat and chestnut brown hair barely changing. "Of course I can't break her , but there has to be some way- You've heard how she speaks to me, haven't you? I know too well you sit there scrying like I'm putting on a play for your amusement."

"Well of course, I am your biggest fan ," Haarlep sneered, the subtle insult not unnoticed yet remaining unchallenged as the power balance continued to shift in their favour. It always did. "Perhaps you should try another co-star on your stage. I can't say I'm not curious either, it is so entertaining watching her sharp tongue match wits with yours."

"Careful, Harlot , you are here by my grace alone , remember?"

"Hah! Grace? That's what you call it? No." Haarlep snatched up his throat in their claws, almost cutting into the flesh with the pressure, eyes alight with more than the usual fire. "And you will call me by my name, now, Archduke ."

The title was a snub, and Raphael knew it, but the incubus had a hold on him in more ways than one. "Fine, Haarlep ," he gasped, the pressure finally relieving just slightly. "There's barely any difference anyway." He averted his eyes just for a moment. Wrong move.

"You will look at me when addressing me," their hand was now gripping Raphael's chin savagely, "and I am not beyond silencing that rude little tongue of yours either."

Barely a moment after letting go of his face, Haarlep had straddled the devil's chest, pressing his heated and leather bound underwear to the lips of his furious lover. The game had truly begun now.

Raphael's teeth sunk into the leather, piercing it just enough to elicit a wanton howl from Haarlep who grabbed the back of his head and pulled him away. "Only bite if you're prepared to be bitten."

The challenge stood heavy and pointed, as they released Raphael once more, one of their hands slipping behind them to start loosening his trousers. Their tail was already curling around his ankle, a further dare to drive him damn near insane. Without words, he pulled aside the lower parts of the leather harness, - hands gripping them slightly too perfect thighs - and pulling Haarlep into his mouth.

The incubus moaned, the usual performance, but oh how they did enjoy it more when they got what they wanted. Raphael could be so plain unless they really riled him up. Anger and lust, it seemed, were excellent bedfellows. Like pleasure and pain, they mused as teeth raked along their length eliciting another wanton moan, the perfect balanced meal.

Raphael had no intention of giving in to everything his reflection desired, but he couldn't deny how good it felt. The incubus had connected them by taking his form, a hellish contract binding them, so he could feel everything. Not only could he feel his own throat beginning to burn as Haarlep's hips pressed agonisingly forwards, he could feel the sensation of lips around himself.

This was the caveat of the deal, naturally. Giving release to the incubus would also give him his own, but that meant the bastard would win, again , and that simply could not stand. Just as he felt the pressure begin to rise, he dug his teeth and claws in just enough to bring it back.

"Oh so you want to play it that way, do you?" Haarlep hissed, dragging Raphael's head back and pressing his head firmly to the pillow. "Ironic, isn't it, that you insist on such plush silk comforts when what you really want-" the incubus raised their hand in the air, a thin whip-like vine appearing in their grip, "is far from comfort at all."

The whip cracked in the air, thin red lightning dancing along the length, as Haarlep rose from above Raphael, already preparing the next spell. Thicker vines now curled up from beneath the bed. Before they found their mark, however, Haarlep unceremoniously flipped Raphael over with a deft movement, pressing his face into the pillow now as the vines wrapped and secured wrists and ankles.

The demon lay face down on his own bed, by all appearances utterly helpless, his legs spread apart and his arms crossed and bound behind his back. His wings were held apart to reveal parts of his bare back, bound very precisely to keep them where they were out of the way of the incubus' designs. Only his cambion tail remained free, until, of course, Haarlep grabbed hold of it and pulled.

"You look so much better like this, Archduke ," they laughed, bringing the whip down between his shoulder blades with practiced ease. Raphael moaned into the pillow, unable to form words to respond. "And you sound better, too."

Each sting of electric pain was not enough to do harm, no it would take far more than this to actually wound a Cambion of his rank, but still Raphael felt the exquisite agony. They had danced this dance for countless centuries, but even from the beginning the incubus knew exactly how to work his body. Of course they would , he thought between muffled groans as the whip struck true across his body whilst a clawed hand reached down between his legs, they're a fucking pleasure fiend.

Haarlep grinned wickedly. This was a perfect evening, watching the powerful Raphael melt into silk sheets, building up the pleasure then leaving him wanting and squirming beneath them. They felt it all, and they felt so much more. Each little wanton whimper was like another plate at a buffet, a banquet of delicacies that they were cooking for themselves. A greedy chef, perhaps, but they had to feed. Might as well season it perfectly, they mused to themselves, licking their fingers in anticipation.

Some days Raphael wondered how the bed beneath him did not burst into flame, either with the anger or the lust. This was certainly one of those days. He was white hot, tense, when the incubus' finger entered. He damn near moaned the bitch's name in that instant, but he held on stubbornly forbidding them from taking everything quite so easily. Futile, in the end, but his pride kept the fight going.

Accepting the unspoken challenge, Haarlep cast the whip aside, plunging a second finger inside their partner and pulling hard on his tail, relishing the deepened groan it drew forth. "You will be calling my name soon enough, Archduke , but you can keep fighting if you must."

Their fingers curled, finding their mark, removing his breath and turning his mind almost empty as he pressed against the sheets, writhing for any moment of friction, desperate for more. Fuck , was about the only thought that found purchase in his brain.

Haarlep continued the torment, switching between pulling, biting, and occasionally kissing the Cambion's tail - though there was not a hint of affection from the touch of their lips - and raking their claws along his spine, gripping the back of his neck, and pulling at that oh so neat hair. Yes, they thought delightedly, this is the best view of him, wanton, struggling, desperately full of desire. They drank in the heat, prolonging every moment to savour the meal spread before them. Literally, spread, they grinned to themselves, whatever would the little mouse think to see the mighty predator brought to ruin.

Just as Raphael was at the edge of that daunting yet exhilarating cliff, the incubus pulled back once more, leaving him infuriatingly empty. "No." He hissed into the pillow, barely audible. "No stopping."

"My my, it seems someone has forgotten who is in charge again." The vines holding the cambion pulled wickedly, snaking now around his hips and forcing them up until he was on his knees. Haarlep had moved behind him now, leaning down over him until their chest pressed against his arms, voice hot near his ear. "You will call my name. You will beg before we are through."

There was nothing gentle nor loving about the embrace of two fiends in the heat of pure lust. There never would be, never could be, it simply wasn't in their nature to do anything but this. The battle, the fight, wits and bodies pitted against each other in an endless back and forth until something broke.

Raphael's mind nearly did as the demon behind him thrust inside, chuckling darkly at the gasp that escaped before he could stop it.

"Good," the incubus growled, biting down on the back of his neck before continuing, "feel it, all of it. Feel you , just like you wanted."

Savage teeth bore down on hot skin again, Haarlep's muscular chest crushing Raphael's wings and arms against his back. But fuck did it feel good. He bit down on the pillow himself, almost feeling it like it was his own neck in his mouth. Exactly what they intended , he might have thought, had a hand not found purchase between his legs. A savage grip began to work him harder now, timed perfectly to the brutal thrust of hips, the sound of skin on skin filling his ears as every muscle began to tense from the sheer overwhelming sensations. Fucking, being fucked, skilled fingers finding every extra nerve as lips and tongue and teeth caressed tender flesh.

"Please, Haarlep- " the words left Raphael's lips unbidden and with infuriating ease. Just as promised he had been drawn to this, begging, writhing, desperately on the edge.

"I told you so." The echo of his own voice dark in his ear was swiftly followed by a harmony of exquisite moans as the final thrusts drove both of them into a mindsplitting climax.

All control had been ceded, the incubus had snatched yet another victory from the pride of the so-called Master of the House , the satisfaction as overwhelming as the frustration was to be left both filled and entirely empty as the vines began to recede.

"Now, doesn't that feel better? You played so well, I do hope you go and visit your Little Mouse again soon. Perhaps I should send her some flowers? A fruit basket?" Haarlep laughed, already strolling towards the huge open pool of a bath on the other side of the room.

"You are truly insufferable." Raphael resisted the urge to add the insulting nickname as he rubbed feeling back into aching limbs, working up the strength to use his legs again. "But I will have her, one way or another."

"Will you now?" The incubus called back, sinking into the luxurious waters scented with cinnamon and cherries. A little hint of the aromas that mingled from each when they were close. "I do hope you at least let me watch ."

Raphael tested his weight on his legs, before resigning himself to sit a little longer. "I have half a mind to hand her over to you, just to teach her a lesson."

"Hah! What's this now? Don't think you can handle a scary little mouse?" Haarlep's musical laugh echoed around the room, ever more infuriating.

"No, she's just not worth my effort."

"I suppose we shall see, then. If they ever make it to the city, of course."

"I have a feeling they will…" Raphael's mind was beginning to wander again, half tempted to scry himself to keep an eye on that improbable group of misfits.

"Won't that mean you lose your money to the little bitch you have watching them?"

"It won't matter," Raphael replied, one clawed hand rubbing his aching neck, "the prize they can bring me will be worth far more than a handful of damned souls."

----------- ----------- ENDING NOTES ----------- -----------

From the original work: ---

I'll note here that usually in BDSM you would have aftercare following something intense, but the amount of time these 2 have been together and with their whole dynamic it feels like Raphael would find the idea insulting. However, when he eventually is able to walk straight, or perhaps fly across to the healing pool, Haarlep is ready and waiting to shampoo his hair and soothe any lingering aches and wounds.

Haarlep is a responsible Dom, is what I'm saying, Raph is just a brat sub-leaning switch vers to his core so he's not going to enjoy much softness unless it is very specifically on his terms.

I'm dying to write more of these 2 as well, and don't worry Tav will get her turn to truly dance with these devils. Oh the ideas I have, darlings, would make more than a blacksmith blush. Whether I find that power within my dark soul to put them to words remains to be seen, of course...we shall try. For you, loves. --- And I did exactly that! I do so love looking back on these notes from a mere few months past, where I was still stumbling through the new wilderness before finding I was always meant to be here~ Now, the new notes? I still adore this chapter, it's the perfect mirror opposite of the last one where Astarion and Tav explore the importance of Love while leaving Lust aside. Raphael and Haarlep have no need for Love when hedonistic Lust satisfies both of their needs. Which is not to say they shun all emotion, far from it, they just have a very different attitude to sex and relationships. It's a different world for fiends who live thousands of years~

Oh, and as a special treat...some LiArt~

Until next chapter - oh, and the next chapter for those who haven't read before on AO3? That's the Tav x Emperor chapter~

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #haarlep #bg3 raphael #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic #a tav's guide #act 3 spoilers #bg3 spoilers #LiArt #aka art by Lia that is really pushing the limits of what can be described as art #but people keep encouraging/enabling it so here we are...

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