𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙀 𝙉𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏 𝙀𝙉𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙆𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙤 𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙢𝙞 [𝙃𝙖𝙬𝙠𝙨]
synopsis. You were a former hero commission hero but when you made a simple mistake in a mission the commission sent you on they deemed you unfit and fired you, hence made you out to be a villain to the public. A few years later you meet your old partner Hawks out on his nightly patrol then you guys make up….made out .. :3
— content warnings. sorta plot with smut, eating out, p to v, kissing, sex sex sex, not really coordinated well? i think? dom/sub hawks
— W.C 2.3k
— authors note. This has been rotting in my drafts for like a year now but i thought i should post something…so..heres this!! Im rlly sorry if it’s formatted kinda weirdly, imo the smut is also written sorta weird but i think thats just me..overthinking it ANYWAYS enjoy reading <33 also Thank you FOR 100 FOLLOWERS?? i didn’t expect my blog would reach that much so TYTY.
Hawks sighed heavily, leaning back in his office desk chair, elbows propping on the armrests. He rubbed his tired eyes, tilting his head back, attempting to avoid eye contact with the stack of paperwork that lay out before him.
Every muscle in his body ached with exhaustion. It felt like he had been sitting in this same spot for days, poring over reports and documents in an endless cycle of busy work. As the number-two hero, the public demanded nothing but his very best. They expected him to always be alert and swift in responding to any crisis, dealing with volatile situations and dangerous villains with calm precision.
But they didn't see this part. They didn't witness the countless late nights spent filling out forms, compiling statistics, and attending meetings after meetings. No cameras captured the headaches induced by mind-numbing bureaucracy or the frustration of dealing with petty politics. This was the hidden cost of his elevated rank—an incessant paper-pushing grindstone that wore him down more than any actual fight ever could.
Slowly dragging his hands down his face, Hawks sighed again as the aches and knots of tension complained loudly in his neck and shoulders. For a brief moment, he considered using his feathers to shred just a few stray documents, to do less work.
He stretched his arms over his head and rolled his tense muscles, his wings fluttering restlessly behind him. All he wanted at that moment was to forget. To spread his wings and fly through open skies, feeling the wind ruffle through his feathers as he left his troubles far below.
Tilting his chair back as far as it would go, he gave a long-suffering look at the piles of work that towered precariously around him, silently pleading with it all to spontaneously catch fire or simply vanish into thin air. With a resigned sigh, Hawks dropped all four chair legs back to the floor and reluctantly pulled the topmost file towards him once more, bracing himself for another grind of the ever-turning wheel.
Hawks rubbed his tired eyes once more, feeling his motivation drain away with each mundane paragraph he read. At this rate, he'd be here all night and well into the morning. With a groan, he tossed the file back onto the pile, temporarily defeated. Maybe a quick break was what he needed to recharge his focus.
Pushing away from his desk, Hawks stood and stretched out his cramped body to its full height, his wings unfolding to their full span. A midnight flight around the city was just what he needed. The cool night air and darkened streets would do wonders for clearing his cluttered mind.
Stepping out onto his office balcony, Hawks took a few steps back, then launched himself into the sky with his wings. He flew high, circling up towards the crowning heights of the skyscrapers that shone below. Closing his eyes briefly, he took a deep breath of the fresher air, feeling tensions beginning to melt away already.
As he glided back down towards street level, Hawks scanned the sidewalks lazily while lost in thought. He was mulling over the options when movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention.
Your shadow slipped between alleyways, scanning for any civilians in the area. Suddenly flashes of red nearing a rooftop drew your eye—a familiar winged silhouette.
Going on a nearby rooftop, you spotted Hawks looking down, trying to find who or what he saw.
You and Hawks used to know each other pretty well in your teen years when you dreamed of being a great hero. So when you were selected by the Commission to become one, you were ecstatic. But from day one, Keigo Takami made things... complicated.
You two went way back to your training days, though you mostly kept your head down back then. Once in the pro scene though, Takami always found ways to rile you up during sessions, whether with sly taunts or risky stunts that pushed protocol to the limit.
Part of you wanted to throttle that arrogant asshole, but another part couldn't deny the thrill he made you feel.
Late nights spent training turned into more..private scenarios. For a time, it was nice to find solace in each other. But then came the ruling—you'd been deemed "not hero material" after one mistake, ruining your future. That's when Takami tried to connect with you again, but the hero commission wouldn't even allow him to be close to you to not damage the reputation he already made with the public.
"You're up rather late for a hero," you whispered directly into his ear, barely suppressing a chuckle at his startled flinch. Golden eyes met yours warily, yet he made no move to escape our intimate embrace.
"I'm off duty," was his measured reply. "And you?" Smoke clung thick to the memories in his eyes.
Your fingers, carefully gloved, traced the proud arch of his wings, feeling tension bleed away slowly. "Care for some company, Keigo?"
He held your gaze steadily, considering. At last he nodded, extending a hand. “Not that I can shake you off anyway,” he replied, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
You sat together on the secluded rooftop, settling close against one another. As you caught up, you both couldn't help but feel deprived of each other's touch; it had been far too long since you'd seen one another face to face. Sure, he'd heard about you through others in the commission, but being here together was different somehow.
When your voices at last fell silent, a gentle touch turned your chin to meet Hawks' searching eyes. "Y/N…" he murmured, leaning in so your faces were mere inches apart. One of his wings stretched out to block any view from the street below, enveloping you both in its feathery embrace.
Hawks closed the remaining distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a soft yet insistent kiss.
One hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, as the other wrapped around your waist to draw you flush against his body. You felt even better than he remembered.
When your lips parted under him, Hawks held back a groan as he rested his forehead against yours as you both panted for air. Wisps of steam rose between the two of you in the chill night.
If he tasted you fully, it would undo his last shred of willpower.
“You're going to be the end of me.." Hawks murmured thickly. Already, he ached to have more, but taking you here against the railing would be too brazen, even for his recklessness.
"Then take me somewhere more...private then," you shot back in a sinful whisper.
With a sly smile, Hawks swept you into his arms in a bridal carry, wings already prepared for launch. "Hold on tight.”
Hawks kicked off from the roof of the building and took flight, relishing your tight grip around his shoulders. The thrill of having you in his arms sent adrenaline surging through his veins.
He landed lightly on the balcony of his high-rise apartment, still holding you securely against his chest. Your masked face was turned up to meet his gaze.
"I.. I really missed you," Hawks murmured, pressing you back against the wall with his body. He caged you in with outspread wings, feathers gently ghosting your skin.
"Me too.." you replied. Your hands came up to roam his body just as eagerly.
Hawks captured your lips in a searing kiss, conveying all his pent-up needs and desires without restraint. This was wrong on so many levels, and yet he'd never felt more alive.
Kicking open the balcony doors, he swept you inside and laid you down on his plush sofa. His hands worked busily to remove your mask, wanting nothing between you and him; clothing fell piece by piece until nothing was left.
"Say you want this," Hawks pleaded roughly, desperate for your answer.
Your intoxicating laughter rang out as you pulled him against your body. "I want all of you, Keigo."
Hawks' hands roamed your body eagerly, relearning every curve as his lips traveled along your jawline. You sighed contentedly, arching into his touch while undoing the fastenings of his hero costume with practiced expertise.
Slowly, methodically, he kissed his way down the delicate column of your throat. Hawks lingered there to suckle your rapid pulse, eliciting breathy moans. His name falling from your lips in such a manner sent fresh spikes of arousal through him.
As you lay bare under him, Hawks paused to simply take in the sublime vision of your naked form, illuminated by the moonlight. "You're so..beautiful," he whispered in awe, tracing idle patterns upon your sensitized flesh.
Your hands delved into the downy feathers at his wings' bases, eliciting a guttural groan. The way you caressed his most sensitive areas, teasing but not quite enough, tested Hawks' faltering control. He nipped lightly at the swell of your breast in retaliation.
Tracing a tortuous path down your torso with wet kisses and love bites, Hawks' fingers dipped between your thighs. He chuckled at discovering your slick arousal, already swollen and desperate for friction. Slowly, he circled your clit, gathering your arousal onto his fingers.
"Please..." you begged wantonly, bucking your hips to chase more contact. But Hawks would loathe to grant your unspoken request so easily. He continued his maddening ministrations, coaxing you higher and higher with expert precision. Only when your keening cries bordered on anguish did he finally decide to sink two fingers deep inside.
The powerful rhythm he set drove you swiftly towards the peak. Hawks swallowed your hoarse screams of completion, savoring your intimate essence on his tongue.
"I've missed this..," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss on your sensitive bundle of nerves.
Then his tongue delved into your slick arousal with deft, practiced strokes. Your responsive sighs and the way you grabbed Takami's hair only spurred him onward in his devotions.
He alternated between broad, flat licks and focused flicks directly over your clit. When Keigo very lightly grazed his teeth along your folds, you keened and bucked again into his ministrations wildly. He hummed his approval, sending vibrations through your core.
It did not take long for you to climb once more towards the precipice, unraveling beautifully beneath his skilled mouth. Hawks drank deeply from your release, prolonging each aftershock with slow caresses of his tongue. Only when your quivering stopped did he withdraw, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he cleaned his glistening chin.
As he swirled his tongue around his lips, savoring the last hints of you, you gazed up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Your chest still heaved in languid aftershocks of pleasure, your limbs boneless and slack upon the plush cushions.
"Come here," you beckoned hoarsely, crooking a finger. Your body cried out to be filled after such thorough worship, muscles reflexively clenching around nothing inside.
Hawks obeyed without hesitation, crawling up to drape himself over your welcoming form once more. You gripped his shoulders firmly, flipping your positions with a playful show of wiry strength, and smiled down at him wickedly.
Grasping his aching length and rubbing the tip of his cock had him seeing stars. Hawks groaned unabashedly.
Slowly, you let him inside, savoring each velvet glide. Hawks bucked helplessly, claws scrabbling for purchase against the cushions as your sensual walls milked his length.
The pleasure you drew from Hawks was exquisite torture. Each roll of your hips sent fresh shockwaves through his twitching member, shattering his composure. He was reduced to begging, his nails scratched weakly at your thighs as you rode him to the brink.
"Please...I need to come," Hawks gasped, moving his hips upward in frantic little thrusts. His cock throbbed painfully with the desperate need for release.
You smiled down at him cruelly. "Beg for it." Your lips formed the words deliciously slowly, knowing their effect.
Hawks keened, wings fluttering uselessly. "Please let me cum p-please I wanna cum, I need..to please..”
Suddenly, you bore down on him, grinding your pelvis against his in brutal circles. The new angle sent Hawks reaching his high with a raw cry.
You quickly let him pull out as his cock pulsed and thick ropes of seed spilled forth, splattering his taut stomach in pearly ribbons. Hawks shuddered through wave after wave; your continued help milking every last drop from him.
Breathless and spent, he could only lay pliantly as you leaned down to collect his essence on your fingers. Your wicked tongue flicked out to taste, making Hawks twitch anew in oversensitivity.
You smiled softly, your expression gentling as you gazed upon Hawks' flushed, panting form. His chest still heaved mightily in the aftermath of his climax.
Reverently, you traced light patterns on his ribs and pecs with delicate fingers, soothing away any last tremors. Hawks hummed appreciatively at your tender touch, grasping one of your hands to press a lingering kiss to the palm.
"Come here, Birdie," you murmured, beckoning him into your open embrace. Hawks complied readily, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a contented sigh. Your legs tangled together comfortably as his wings folded around you both like a feathery blanket.
No threats of capture or duty rules could penetrate the sanctity of that moment. There, held securely within your arms, Hawks felt at once protected yet free—freed from the shackles of self-doubt and expectation. He belonged, body and soul, to one who accepted him fully without judgment or demand.
Drowsiness began to take hold as your rhythmic caresses through soft-down lulled Hawks towards slumber. "Stay?" he mumbled into your skin, his voice blurred by oncoming sleep yet filled with gentle hope.
You kissed his forehead, followed by a whisper, "I’ll stay, promise." was the sweetest assurance Hawks could wish for.
© yammpi3 2024. All work belongs to @yammpi3. You can repost if you want to support my blog/writing! Please don't modify, translate, or plagiarize in any way on ANY platform.
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Between the Power Lines by @tackytigerfic (M, 3k)
For Harry Potter, all roads eventually lead to Draco Malfoy. Or: this is not an AU! It's just Harry and Draco meeting by chance in an imported food shop in Connecticut and going on a road trip together. Featuring motels, cacti, Americana, and a hefty dose of pining.
In New Orleans, they got drunk on Bourbon Street, and Malfoy danced on his own (arms bare, laughing; Harry could have watched him all night) and later on, so late it was almost morning, they let themselves into the St Louis Cemetery—Malfoy unpicking the lock so sweetly—and walked around until the sky was pink-edged with the promise of another day’s heat. Then they sat on the steps of a crypt, watched over by sightless eyes of the statue of an angel. She looked exhausted rather than sad, Harry thought, and that made a lot of sense when he thought about his own longstanding, dull-edged grief.
It’s been ages (or 2 years) since I last wrote a rec for Tacky (I usually write for other readers, except when I’m reccing friends - then I write for them) and their birthday was the perfect excuse to put my reccing muscles back to work. I almost bailed out because I know this is one of T’s own faves and “what if I don’t do it justice?” but that tired angel banner has been sitting in my drafts for 3 long years and it deserves a proper rec!
Where to even begin? Anyone who knows Tacky is aware of their superb prose - rich and nuanced, compassionate, effortlessly funny, with a strong sense of place and a soft spot for suds scenes and filthy m-rated sex I mean devastating romance. Their writing breathes heart and personality, very much like Tacky themself. So knowing that this fic came out exactly as they intended it to should be enough to make you go read this right now, but in case you need further incentive, see below all the reasons why this oneshot is so special to me:
1. The *vibes*: if you thought that 3k is nowhere near enough to build the sexiest, most intriguing Americana atmosphere you’ve seen, think again. The aesthetics are impeccable here, decorating the beautiful and strange landscape - cacti and cheap motels included - into something peaceful and desolate, an overarching melancholy making it even more compelling. The dialogue is brilliant but the silences are just as loud and meaningful, with a quiet intimacy and a dreamlike quality that make you feel as if you're intruding a memory.
2. The romance: at this point everyone and their dog know that pining!Harry is Tacky's jam - they luxuriate in making us all suffer with him until the realization that Draco has been loving him back all along slaps us in the face. Harry is so stupid and desperate and wanton, I love it. And the way Tacky reinvents this delicious trope to make it work in new angsty ways blows my mind. Imo the slow burn is particularly effective here, a feat in any 3k story, because the narrative gives us so much character insight. We learn all the little things that make these two lonely boys tick as we watch their ever-changing perception of each other evolve from a tentative truce to reluctant confidants to a comfortable, easy love that comes naturally and earned. We often get those bits of information from imagery and emotions alone, no dialogue needed, and a road trip is the best way to explore those dynamics in a smooth, unhurried pace.
3. The journey: this is truly an immersive journey, not only physical as we keep jumping from one destination to the next, but also emotional, as we learn more about their vulnerabilities and desires the more they gravitate towards each other. This story shows that being far away from home can be both freeing and grounding, when you’re stuck with your hot enemy someone who knows about your darkest hour. It gives you the chance to heal and visualize a different future without forgetting your past or letting go of that which has shaped who you are. I love their chance encounter and how this poignant 30k love story is told in such impressive economy of words.
TL;DR: if you’re a short form fan and prone to melancholy like me believe me when I say it doesn’t get any better than this. The whole road trip shebang mixing grief, romance and nostalgia wrapped in Tacky’s lush writing is a gift to any reader and an elegant work of art. Enjoy!!!
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hiii i was wondering if you had something new about baby max ☺️
HOW ABOUT THIS LITTLE BIT???? Follows on from Enchanted Light Trail basically but it's just tired travelling.
All earlier parts can be found in this masterpost and on AO3 here (although i've got a couple of bits now to update on AO3).
It's You And Me (I Know It's My Destiny): Max and Daniel Go Home
Max doesn't fall asleep on the plane until they're fifteen minutes away from landing in Nice, which means that Daniel has to try and fumble Max's seatbelt around him without waking him up under the steward's watchful eye, and deal with a crotchety and tired Max as they get off the plane and wait for their luggage and try and gather it all together onto one trolley.
It's exhausting. Max is exhausted, and Daniel hasn't been sleeping well in weeks, and Daniel has all of his stuff and grown up Max's stuff and Max's seven year old stuff and Max's toddler stuff for the 36 hours he spent as Daniel's chunky three year old shadow. He's got their hand luggage and Max's backpack and emergency clothes for if Max got big or got smaller. Max's replacement stuffed Pikachu found himself on the floor in the departure lounge, none of the outlets had food Max wanted to eat, their flight was unnecessarily complicated, time-wise, and Christian couldn't hide his displeasure that Daniel was taking Max home and Max hadn't miraculously woken up big again.
His head hurts. It really hurts, and he's got no fucking idea where the paracetamol is. It's in one of these bags. Somewhere.
"Can we go yet?" Max asks, clinging on to Daniel's coat. "Why can't we go yet?"
"I think we're still waiting for one more bag, baby," Daniel says, but part of him just wants to leave it here in the airport, go home and collapse face first into the sheets.
"No," Max says.
"Yeah," Daniel says, even though he can see Max is gearing up to lose it. It hasn't been bad, staying with Christian and Geri over new year, but it's been different. Max hasn't liked having to share Daniel with anyone, and he hasn't liked that he had none of his own things. Max likes his own things. He likes his little drawer where he keeps all of his special things (and sometimes Pikachu, when Daniel really likes to sob on the inside). The new Pikachu has been grudgingly accepted but it isn't Max's Pikachu. It doesn't smell right. Max says it feels wrong when he rubs it against his cheek. Daniel could well agree but he's too tired.
One more bag.
Their bag rolls around. He dumps it on the top of the trolley. God, he can't remember where he parked his car. Max is looking like he's going to cry.
"Piggy back?" Daniel asks hopefully once they're finally through customs and Max is tearful and noticeably hanging on by a thread. Max nods so sadly that Daniel's fairly certain no one has ever looked sadder about anything. He hefts him up onto his back, and Max half chokes him as Daniel pushes their stupid overflowing trolley in the general direction of where he thinks his car is.
He finds the car on the third try, and then has to shove everything into the boot and away. Max doesn't want to be in the car and he doesn't want this Pikachu and he wants to be at home and in his own clothes and hugging his own Pikachu and with his own toys.
Daniel gets it. He really gets it. He's just not made of magic.
He ends up telling Max a very stupid story about all the adventures that Pikachu has got up to in the flat without them. Max isn't really one for story telling, but his expression of dubious disbelief is slightly better than him crying, so Daniel will take it.
And when they finally get home, and Daniel has tiredly failed to even attempt to get all of their bags into the lift in one go. He's got the three bags that look like they're the most useful. Everything else stays in the car.
Max tucks his hand into Daniel's.
"Pikachu hasn't really been having adventures," he says doubtfully as the lift doors close.
"No, baby," Daniel says. "He's at home, waiting for you."
Max nods his little serious nod. He keeps his hand in Daniel's. "My home and your home," he says.
"Yeah," Daniel says, swallowing down what feels suspiciously like a sob. "Our home."
"Good," Max says.
The lift doors open again, and Daniel takes him home.
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