#i love reon

[iizuumi]

obsessed with this commission i got from @kasumitanart look at them being soft and in love ;;;;

[booskwan]

happy birthday to the best leader, karam <3

[kimbapisnotsushi]

i was feeling shiratorizawa + semiten and kawashira hcs so y'all know the drill LET'S GO

goshiki has 100% forgotten that he sleeps in a bottom bunk bed and consequently has shot up awake at the sound of his alarm only to bang his head on the underside of the top bunk bed

or the ceiling if he has the top bunk it's the same either way

also for some random reason i really enjoy thinking about semi and peach green tea. idk he feels like such a peach green tea person

fun fact when i first got into hq i made a list in my notes app where i could keep track of what i thought EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER (organized by team) would order at a boba shop/cafe so i could reference it for fics. i just looked at it for the first time in years. i apparently put down strawberry black tea for semi which still remains a pretty good choice i think

you know what. semi can be a strawberry black tea AND a peach green tea person. he goes for peach green tea when he feels like straying from his usual strawberry black tea. there i fixed the problem we're back on track

tendou uses the excuse of going on boba runs for the team to get alone time with semi. he'll be like "haha i can't get ALL the drinks by myself!! eita come with me :3" and semi just sighs but is honestly secretly really pleased that tendou would choose him out of everyone to run errands with

the greatest love language of all: running errands together

i actually think that, all things considered, semi was probably a little bit insecure and a little bit shy when it came to performing

like yeah he doesn't mind BEING in the spotlight. but he had to work on thinking he was good enough for it at first if that makes sense??? and i think being benched for shirabu probably exacerbates that

he's not used to showing other people his songs and his music!!! he's not used to being vulnerable!! he's not used to believing that he's skilled!!! because obviously that didn't work out in volleyball!! what if semi isn't actually as good at music as he thought himself to be?

tendou of course is determined to make him throw all these thoughts out the window

furudate please give us the secret cultural festival arc where semi gets a chance to shine because of his musical talents . . .

actually since shiratorizawa is a bunch of rich kids i wonder if yamagata has a smartphone bc i just think that'd make him constantly losing it 100x funnier

yamagata: "can everyone shut the fuck up for like five minutes i lost my phone and need help listening for the vibrations"

honestly why do i feel like half the times yamagata has "lost" his phone was really just tendou messing with him

like he's in the foreground running around looking for it while tendou is in the background snapping selfies with it or whatever

reon, ushijima, and yamagata like to go jogging together early in the morning. semi tried it once and then promptly decided never again

i actually think soft quiet early mornings are reon's favorite time of day!! he gets some peace to himself and he gets to see the sunrise bleed into the sky and he gets that crisp sweet air of fresh dew in the dawn and it's so so comforting to him

god i don't know how he does it i could never be that much of a morning person

however this does also mean reon goes to bed at like nine pm at the latest which tendou is personally offended by

reon the early bird riser who probably does yoga or some shit before meeting ushijima and yamagata vs tendou the night owl who stays up til three reading manga in the dark

genuinely how is tendou functioning at practice he probably stays up til three like four out of seven days of the week

(sorry i know i'm dunking on tendou a lot i'll stop now)

kawanishi will never admit it but he is so incredibly fond of the height difference between him and shirabu

it allows shirabu to fit his head perfectly in the crook of kawanishi's neck during bus rides and such and it makes kawanishi's heart flutter every time

but also kawanishi is MISERABLE during spring because shirabu can't comfortably do that when kawanishi is prone to sneezing like every five minutes

shirabu, teacher's pet that he is, is really good friends with the school librarian

oh my god . . . kawashira blue sky complex au . . . i would actually cry . . .

okay anyways shirabu kenjirou is really good friends with the school librarian and that's how he finds out that the school librarian used to know ushijima's dad

wouldn't that be crazy tho????? i'm thinking it was either the same librarian that utsui had or it was a close friend of utsui's who became the school librarian after they graduated and stuff. i'm kind of leaning towards the second one bc i feel like that makes more sense

i just. can you imagine how alone ushijima had to feel. can you imagine how suffocating it had to be. like there's plenty of reason to assume that his mom's side (and perhaps the mom herself) ended up disliking utsui and i wouldn't be surprised if they tried to scrub him out of ushijima's life

new idea guys utsui comes back and gets with the shiratorizawa librarian

i'm KIDDING

(mostly)

honestly i just think this scenario would really show off how much shirabu and ushijima mean to each other because i think that gets underestimated a lot

they trust each other!!! they respect each other!!!! they understand each other!!! ushijima who knows that he is to be used for his pure raw strength and that that's all shirabu wants to do for him and shirabu who wants to bring out the best in ushijima and thinks of himself as someone who serves ushijima!!!!! shirabu and ushijima who both think they're being used by the other but they don't care because that works best for them!!!! it's their way of showing respect!!! by handing the reigns over!!!!

okay that's a really serious oversimplification of what i'm actually thinking but i got like five hours of sleep and i'm running on two mugs of some strong ass lotus green tea i trust you guys y'all get what i mean

like idk i think ushijima wouldn't really know what to do with shirabu when they first meet in their second and first years. quiet upperclassman who is occasionally a jerk but mostly does not mean to be and his equally quiet underclassman who IS a jerk and DOES mean to be. they'd be so fucking funny together. they back each other up in ways they don't even realize. they could leave entire crowds in tears on accident

actually . . . the poor third years back then who had to deal with this first year they thought was quiet and composed and unassuming and totally chill. but was, in fact, completely unchill

shirabu's gone to bat for every single member of the team at some point btw. soekawa ushijima reon yamagata semi tendou etc etc. none of them have ever witnessed it though word just gets passed around to them like shirabu is some honor-defending ninja who only works in the shadows

and then it really surprises shirabu when they come to bat for HIM

i mean i just. i think shirabu is really used to being independent. is used to doing things by himself. he's not used to other people sticking up for him or other people trying to guide him (which could be another reason why he clashes with semi). it's not that he thinks he's perfect but like. he's never had people who wanted to do that for him before!!

but now he's got goshiki who WANTS compliments from him and he's got kawanishi who loves him for whatever reason and he's got the upperclassmen who ruffle his hair and swing an arm around his shoulders and tell him ot text when he needs help and he's just like ???? like a system error.

give it up for shirabu kenjirou everyone i love him

[cheddyjuu]

REINA RODRIGUEZ

regretful one

[epicene-ennui]

🤳>> a selfie you really like?

I'm gorgeous.

[alienhazy]

I want comfort and reassurance for the way that I feel right now (like a bad person that only ever hurts others when I get close to them, and deserves to be alone because of it), but even if I got it it wouldn't feel like anything so im just dealing with it

[heartshapedskittles]

I really like reon did u guys know I really like reon. I really really like reon I like my husband I like him I l

[happy-hokkyokugitsune]

Haikyuu | Chapter 157 - Strength And Reason

Tendou's expressions are pure gold.

Bonus:

Yup. Gold.

[nostalgicdawn0]

[AU] yet again, that thought flows around.

[cinnamonfknbuns]

elias bouchard 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

[reonrollcake]

If I had a nickel for every time I sort of some what kind of got someone into from argo bc I posted a pic of reon I’d have 2 nickels

[nercali]

Olrox from Castlevania Nocturne!!

I love him!!

You can find the piece in a better resolution on my pat★reon!

[kimbapisnotsushi]

no worries about taking long it’s just nice to hear from u ‼️‼️if u have any would love to hear some more thoughts on semi being popular / cool, genuinely love hearing other peoples hcs bro

i feel he’s the type to get lots of love confessions from people. and the other third years take it in turns to pretend to be his bf so they leave him alone xx my boys

oh totally!! i just think that semi and reon are probably the most approachable out out of the third-year starters—yamagata has serious RBF, ushijima is their untouchable idol, and tendou . . . well, tendou's tendou. semi and reon, on the other hand, are much more mild-mannered and relaxed, so people often talk to them more. they probably get the most friends who cheer for them outside of the organized shiratorizawa cheer team

also, semi's literally a musician. i know we all generally that he started in high school (or younger) and practiced throughout, so people definitely fell in love with the cute bad-boy-looking guitar (bassist?? piano?? whatever) player who turned out to be a total sweetheart like UGH i'd be so soft. the other third-years pretending to date him on his behalf is so fucking funny tho oh my god like can you imagine the gossip mill at shiratorizawa???? everyone is so confused before they probably just end up concluding that semi is dating all of them but then they're also like "why don't they all just show up at once???? wouldn't that be way more efficient??"

of course tendou catches wind of this and so the next time someone asks semi to meet behind the building or whatever EVERYONE goes with him and this poor starstruck sap of a first-year has to face down the rest of the third-year starters. reon is the only reason they're not shitting their pants while semi kindly rejects them and so they get to live to tell the tale

[loveephia]

you as shiratorizawa's beautiful manager.

content: (🦷) tooth-rotting fluff, shiratorizawa is scary, reader is intimidated, she wants to go home, one scene is a reference to shiratorizawa antics on ao3 (one of my favorite fics!!!).

⚠ warning/s: none.

inarizaki ver. | nekoma ver. | fukurodani ver. | aoba johsai ver.

h...

hhahaHHahahahHAHAHAHAHA

if shiratorizawa was a circus, you'd be the star of the show :3

coach washijo was skeptical about letting you manage the team since girls would normally just try to shoot their shot with the players

BUT NAH. IF ANYTHING, YOU'RE MORE SCARED THAN IN LOVE.

THOSE BOYS ARE 6FT AND ABOVE. 6FT BEING THE MINIMUM HEIGHT. ARE YOU KIDDING ME???(#?$($

that's a joke shirabu is 5'8"

but round it off to the tenth place and you get 6ft BOOM MATH

you introduced yourself and did your duties properly, trying desperately not to make a FOOL OF YOURSELF.

you were most comfortable around goshiki, honestly

he was your cute underclassmen who craved validation!!

me too

AHEM ANYWAYyy

when you complimented him on his skills in volleyball, bro was over the moon

AND IT'S COMING FROM YOU?? THEIR PRETTY MANAGER?@?@?

he slipped, tripped, did a flip, and malfunctioned on the spot

"is he dead?" shirabu asked

tendō poked at his leg with a stick he found outside, "nope!

...

i think"

moving on,,

shirabu is actually your classmate

he doesn't know why you're doing this to yourself you joined the team, but he doesn't question it

tendō likes to crack jokes with you every now and then, you got comfortable with him pretty quickly too

ushijima is scary. you steered clear of him.

everyone else is too stoic and intimidating to interact with, so you don't have an opinion on them

until late at night in the shiratorizawa common room, they did the spicy ramen challenge.

man. shiratorizawa sure was scary on the court, but once you get to know them, they're an uNHINGED GROUP.

YOU WERE JUST TRYING TO STUDY???

there's kawanishi laughing hysterically at the scene before him

goshiki passed out with drool in the corner of his mouth

semi sweating bullets while trying to eat the remaining noodles

tendō running around the common room to take his mind off the spice

hayato banging his head against the table, already regretting his first bite

ushijima looking PERFECTLY FINE AFTER EATING FOUR CUPS OF 3x SPICY RAMEN.

reon coming back with the milk (he was responsible enough not to join.)

and shirabu who made a mental bet with himself that ushijima would win

what. did. you. sign. up. for.

© lowercase intended | loveephia

[dira333]

Of Head-Scratches and Fidgety Hands - Tendou Satori x Reader

Do I know what this is? No. But it was fun to write. - FLUFF

You’re not too sure how you got here in the first place.

Had Semi invited you? Or Reon? 

Too many people had talked at the same time, talking over each other and the words slurred together to a thick syrup until you could barely catch the essentials of “movie night” and “please come” and “dorm room”.

Now you’re tucked into the corner of a bed, trying to make yourself as small as possible because Ushijima is nothing if not massive and you don’t want him to think you want to cuddle or something.

“You’re not sitting up here,” someone announces from above and just seconds later Tendou jumps down, grinning like he doesn’t care. His eyes catch yours in the already dim light.

“Oh, is there space between you and Wakatoshi? Hmm?” He leans in.

“Sure,” you squeak, tucking yourself further into the corner.

Tendou slides into the open space, throwing his legs over Ushijima’s without a care. You’re a little jealous, to be honest. Not that you want to cuddle with Ushijima. You’d just love to be as careless as he is. Or the other girls that got invited.

Ran, for example, just sat on Goshiki’s lap the moment she came in and if that’s not confidence, you don’t know what is.

-

“Pspsps,” Tendou whispers just five minutes after the movie starts. 

You already know it’s going to be some bad horror movie.

“What?” You ask, heart hammering in your throat. “Do you need something? Oh shit, am I in your space?”

“No,” he smiles wide. “You’re just fidgeting a lot. Are you okay?  Are you scared? You can hold my hand if you want.”

You swallow thickly, eyes flickering from his face to the screen where a couple of girls just decided to leave their broken-down car on a dark, deserted street in the woods.

“Can I?” You ask back. “I… I kinda need to do something with my hands.”

And then, to your utter horror, your eyes flick up to his hair. It’s long and red and looks extremely soft, even in the barely there light. It’s the first thing you notice every time you two cross paths and maybe it’s the darkness or the lack of space, but your mouth just opens on its own.

“Can I play with your hair?”

Tendou’s eyes open wide and you wish you could suck those words back into your mouth and make sure they’re never heard.

“Sure,” he croaks out then, which in turn elicits a round of shushing from the other people but Tendou just settles further down into the bed, resting his head on your lap. 

His eyes are open and on you, asking you if this is okay just as much as you hope it is.

The moment your hands are in his hair you know you’re done for. It truly is as soft as it looks.

The movie is soon forgotten as you part strands and braid little braids, rub soft circles into his skin, or scratch faintly at his scalp.

About halfway through the movie, you look down to find Tendou fast asleep, his face nuzzled into your thighs. 

You let him sleep, your hands now a little less restless, just patting his head like one does with a napping kitten.

- - -

“Hey!” You almost flinch back at the loud greeting. Tendou waves at you from the other end of the hallway, coming closer much too fast. “How are you? Sorry, I fell asleep last time.”

“It’s uh… it’s no problem.” You glare at your feet, unable to look him in the face.

“Are you sure? You’ve got really talented hands there-” Your head shoots up to catch his smile, surprised that it’s gentle and shy, not bold and boisterous as usual.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. It takes a while to put me to sleep, usually. You can ask Wakatoshi.”

You don’t think he meant the last part literally, but Ushijima’s deep voice still rings out, half a step behind him.

“I can confirm.”

“Oh, well, I… you have really nice hair.” What a weird compliment.

But Tendou blushes a soft red, now the one taking turns glaring at his shoes until Ushijima nudges him in an uncharacteristic show of support.

“Oh, right. We’re uh… doing another movie night. Just our dorm, though, not the whole team. Thought you might want to come.”

“Another horror movie?”

Tendou’s eyes open wide. “No, yes, I mean. What do you want to watch?”

“Tendou wants me to watch the Classics,” Ushijima interrupts before you can figure out a movie that makes you sound cool. “He said I need to see ‘The Land Before Time’.”

“Ouch,” you pull a face. “I mean I’m in, but we’ll need tissues.”

Ushijima seems surprised by that revelation, turning to Tendou as if to confirm you’re right.

“I told you that it will make you feel things,” Tendou defends himself, looking at you for help. 

“Lots of things,” you agree. 

“So you’re coming? It’s tonight, right after we get done with homework, so we don’t get to sleep too late.”

“I’m in.”

“Great, it’s a date.” Tendou grins, blushing all the same. 

You just hope you’re not as easy to read as he is.

- - -

“Where’s Tendou-Senpai?” Goshiki asks from the door of the study room.

“Sleeping,” Ushijima explains just as you put a finger on your lips to keep the First-Year from waking your boyfriend.

It’s not the most comfortable way to nap, but Satori’s managed to stretch out over a few chairs, his head in your lap. 

And even though he claimed it was to help with your ever-present need to fidget, you know it’s just a ruse to hide that he hasn’t been sleeping well lately. It probably has to do with the fact that you’re both waiting for your acceptance letters, the one thing deciding if your relationship will have to go long distance or not.

“Oh, sorry. Takai-Sensei asked for him. I’m supposed to bring him back with me.”

You sigh. “And here I thought he could finally take a nap.” 

Gently, you rub your thumb across his chin, up his cheek, and his temple. It’s more of a massage than a caress and it doesn’t take long for Satori to grumble and whine.

“Sorry,” you whisper down at him. “Takai-Sensei asked for you.”

“Five more minutes?”

“Not now, but you can lay down as soon as you’re back, okay? Extra head scratches for you too.”

“Fine,” he huffs, dragging himself up just to rest his head on your shoulder for a moment, breathing against your neck. “You’re lucky you’re the sugar plum fairy of women.”

“I’ll take that compliment,” you laugh, kissing him back when he leans in for a peck.

- - -

The flight to Paris is long and the leg room basically non-existent.

If you had the money for more expensive seats, you’d have splurged, just to make sure Satori could stretch his legs.  

“It’s fine,” he tells you for the fifth time, bending in a way that doesn’t seem humanly possible. “You will just have to head-scratch me into oblivion for the whole flight.”

You huff, exaggerating your exasperation.

“Why do always I have to do the head-scratching? I know I’m a fidgety mess, but you could return the favor once in a while.”

“Can I?” Satori asks, more hope in his voice than you thought possible.

“Eh, sure, I…” You blink, a little surprised. “I didn’t know you wanted to.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t want to mess up your pretty hair. And I don’t know if I can do it as well as you do. But I trained with Ushijima, so I can give pretty good shoulder rubs now.”

“Oh, so you trained?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Like I’d risk a chance to hurt you, sweet pea of the fair seas.”

“Young Love,” the old granny on your right sighs, shaking her head at the two of you. 

[otonymous]

Caught Between a Wall and a Hard Dick (Grayson) (DC Nightwing - NSFW) - Kinktober 2022

Description: 

(First posted on Pa*t*reon (pls see link in pinned post)! - early access Sept 25/22)

Kinktober 2022 Prompt #1: STUCK IN A WALL (aka kabeshiri - yeah, I had to look this one up LOL)

Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language and mature themes - reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings include: outdoor sex (in a sense lol), being stuck in a wall/"glory hole" type situation, some bits faintly wavering towards dub-con, mentions of masturbation, brief mention of edging

Word Count: ~3700 words (I promised myself I would keep these to 1500 words max.  Didn't happen.  Story of my life 😂)

Author's Note:

Hello lovelies!

Hope October is treating you well so far! 💕 Since we are dealing with more mature topics (Kinktober being the name of the game and all 🤣), please check out the warnings listed above!  That being said, please know that this fic is absolutely ridiculous, and I laughed myself silly writing it.  All in all, a good time was had.  I hope you will have fun reading this one, my friends!

-XOXO, Otonny 🥰💕

PS: Please suspend your disbelief and just imagine for one hot second that triple woven kevlar can be ripped by the bare hands of one super horny superhero.  Thanks! 🤩🤣

“Okay, on the count of three.  One, two, three!“

“Ow…ow!  Ouch!  Stop!  Nightwing, stop!”

“This isn’t working.  Thank god Batman isn’t here to see this.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if Batman were here in the first place.  He’d use the door, like a relatively normal person would, not try to show off by somersaulting through a hole in the wall.  Stop laughing, Dick!“

“All right, I’m sorry,” Nightwing wheezes in between peals of laughter, broad shoulders shaking as he tries to catch his breath.  “To be fair, no one told you to follow me through the hole.  Also, ‘Batman’ and ‘normal’ have no business being in the same sentence together.”

“I thought I could make it.  Clearly, I was wrong.  Damn these birthing hips!”

You struggle some more, kevlar gloves gripping onto brick for purchase as you attempt to push, pull, do anything to free the lower half of your body from the wall it was currently stuck in, your ego now thoroughly bruised in light of your previous declaration that you could do anything Nightwing was capable of doing.

So when tonight’s training consisted of you keeping up with him as he raced across the rooftops of Blüdhaven, you followed close behind, fighting to keep your breath even and steady as you ran, swung, flipped and jumped, doing so well at keeping pace that even you were surprised until Nightwing jumped — no, glided — through a hole in a wall on the rooftop of an apartment building, his form so perfect, he made it look like child’s play, so easy that anyone could do it…

…or so you thought until you got stuck, reality hitting hard in the form of a vice-like squeeze about your hips by brick and cement that refused to budge.

And now, your ass was literally an easy target, vulnerable and exposed to the dark night beyond while the upper half of your body fumed at one costumed Dick Grayson, still snickering in the stairwell of the decrepit apartment complex.

“Okay, so I need a bit more training before I can come out patrolling with you.  I get it.  But can you please stop laughing and help pull me out before someone comes?!  I don’t want to have to fabricate some weird sex fetish to explain why I’m wearing a mask and cape.”

“All right, just relax.  I’m moving.  Guess I’ll have to use the door this time.”

Dick draws out of sight and then you hear a click and thud, the heavy steel door echoing down the stairwell though Nightwing had done his best to let it close softly behind him.

You can sense his approach: the faint vibrations of his footsteps on the tarmac, the quiet rustle of limbs heard so faintly through cracks in the wall one might have missed it if one hadn’t been trained to listen.

You imagine Dick, his blue eyes behind the mask trained intently on your ass and you cannot keep a sudden rush of heat from rising to the surface of your skin, cheeks burning in a way you wanted to think had absolutely nothing to do with how close he was likely standing to you now, the sharp V of his hips level with your jutting rear end, scratching his chin as he contemplated how best to free you short of blowing up the wall and waking up everyone in a three-mile radius.

“Hey Nightwing, everything okay out there?” 

You try to keep your voice as low as possible, but cringe at the way it still echoed in that stairwell, the acoustics absolutely perfect for a Black Canary performance.

“Ahem, uh, yeah.  Just, uh, trying to figure out the best way to…dislodge you.”

“Not to seem ungrateful or demanding, but could you please hurry it up?  Believe it or not, this position’s not exactly comfortable.”

And it was true.  Just not necessarily in the way it would seem.

It wasn’t so much the physical strain of being bent over and stuck that presented a problem; Dick had trained you well enough in the gym and out in the field that maintaining this position for an extended period of time wasn’t an issue.  Rather, it was the thought that his undivided attention was now focused on your ass; that he would have to put hands on your hips and thighs in order to free you from your prison.  Even thinking about this set your nerves on edge, reminding you of the time Dick had accidentally touched your breast in the midst of practicing an aerial maneuver. 

At that time, he gave no indication he had even noticed what had happened, occupied as he was on making sure he caught you before you had the chance to fall to your death on a pile of overflowing trash bins sixteen stories below.

But you, you had burned red beneath your mask, thanking god all the while for the fact that it was too dark for him to really see your face.

Although, you suppose he could with those infrared cameras he had built into his mask…

Never mind.  

You weren’t going to think about that.  And you definitely weren’t going to ruminate on the excitement you felt to have his hand on your breast.  Or how large and manly they looked whenever he peeled his gloves off at the end of a long night of patrolling, right before reaching into the cupboard for a box of sugary kid’s cereal as a snack before collapsing into bed.

No, you were determined not to think of those twilight hours spent lying awake in the room next to his, wondering if Dick could somehow sense your heart pounding through paint and drywall as your fingers traipsed beneath the waistband of your pyjama bottoms to pretend your hand was his, rubbing insistent circles over the wetness that would inevitably pool between your legs every time you thought of him:

Dick Grayson.  Nightwing.  Your mentor and partner in the fight against crime.

NO.

Now is neither the time nor place, you scold yourself, steering your thoughts towards the more pressing matter of why you could no longer hear him on the other side of the wall.

“Um, Nightwing, is everything okay?  Are you all right?!” you ask, panic starting to set in to think that somehow, unbeknownst to you and the upper half of your body, trouble had come calling for your partner and booty.

Though presumably, you would’ve heard something.  The wall did have a hole large enough for a person to slip through (albeit not one with hips that Shakira would’ve been proud of).  And Nightwing was more than capable of taking care of himself in any situation.  So what, then, was the cause of the radio silence?  The fact that you could no longer sense any movement behind you?

“You’ve torn your suit.”

“What?!”

Voice catching in your throat, your strangled reply echoes like a ghoul in the night.  It wasn’t so much your outfit that you were concerned about — that triple woven kevlar could somehow rip without your knowledge.  What you did find concerning however, was the way Nightwing was now behaving: strangely out-of-character.

“Right…” he continues, voice barely audible on the other side of the wall. “…here.”

GASP!

You clap a hand over your mouth, attempting to muffle the sound that escaped the moment you felt his touch: one long finger running along the seam that joined your skintight suit down the middle, sliding down the small of your back and over the curved crevice of your backside to close in on the heat between your legs.

You start to sweat, temperature suddenly spiking in reaction to the weird turn of events — as if the night could get any more bizarre. Holding your breath, you wait for Dick to crack a joke; say something lighthearted to ease the tension like he could always be counted on to do.  Except this time, he doesn’t.  This time, he says:

“This is dangerous.  Your suit is compromised.  We need to fix this.  Immediately.”

Different.  Darker.  Dick’s voice is even lower now in both tone and volume, so much so that you have to strain your ears to hear him. The measure of his words is slow and sure, and it makes you twitch, hips shifting in an animal inclination to wiggle your ass in order to please him.

“Wh-what do you suppose we do?” you ask, palms planting on your side of the brick wall so as to exaggerate the curve of your back.

In your mind’s eye, you imagine Dick’s breath catching — much the same way it did that time he accidentally caught you running naked from the shower to your bedroom because it was laundry day and you had forgotten to replace the towels in the bathroom you shared as roommates.

For a moment, he had stood frozen: mouth open and blue eyes fixed to your bare breasts, the creamsicles he had left the apartment a few minutes ago to procure for the two of you dripping down both hands. And then, he had abruptly turned his back to you, muttering something about chasing down ice cream trucks that didn’t want to stop.

But you had caught it: the desire in his eyes.

Undeniable, like the flush creeping up his cheeks or the tent in his jeans before he spewed “Sorry-i-didn’t-see-anything” and ducked into his room, pulling the door closed behind him with his foot because he was still holding on to two melting lumps of citrus-flavoured ice cream.

It was the elephant in the room.  The big, unspoken cloud that constantly hung over the two of you when you weren’t preoccupied with discussing training plans or the moves of petty criminals and supervillains, a topic neither dared to broach because it would make things way too messy, too complicated…

…too good to be true? 

Was it really too good to be true?  And if so, how good? you can’t help thinking, having left the ball in Dick’s court and waiting with bated breath for his next move.

“I think there’s only one thing to do to get you out of this sticky situation.”

More rustling of limbs behind you.  Perhaps your partner moving in close, kneeling to get a better look at what he was dealing with. Which could only mean one thing:

Dick’s face was now in your ass.

He touches you and you jolt, feeling the slip of his finger through the rip in your suit, right at the junction of your thighs.  You wonder if Dick could feel it — the soaked gusset of your panties.  But the suspense lasts for all of a second before he mutters,

“God, you’re wet,”

and adds a second finger to the first, Nightwing gripping onto your suit to tear it down the middle in one swift motion, exposing your flimsy panties to the night.

Throb.

Legs growing weak, you lose your balance for a moment, falling into the brick at the waist.  Your clit pulses at what had just transpired, ushering in a new wave of wetness that threatens to spill down your thighs.

“There.  Now that part of your suit has been removed, try squeezing through the hole on your side.”

It was bullshit and you knew it.  The suit was thin to begin with; shaving off a few millimetres wasn’t going to do much.  But you obey regardless, moving your hips from side to side in a manner so suggestive you felt your nipples harden to think of the effect it must’ve been having on Dick.

“Like this?” 

Laying it on thick, you feign innocence in an attempt to see how far the charade would take you.

“Yeah, just like that.  But it’s not good enough.  I think we ought to get rid of this too.”

And just like that, your panties fall away with another unceremonious rip.

“There.  Spread your legs.  Wider.  Yes, like that.  Try moving now.”

It was insanity.  

How his instructions aroused you so, even with Dick’s voice muffled and muted behind a brick wall.  You couldn’t see him, and he had barely even touched you aside from doing what he needed to do to tear off your panties and the bottom half of your suit.  And yet, he had you on edge, every shake and tremble of your body foreshadowing a climax so intense it threatened to make you scream so loudly it would wake everyone in the building.

The evening air blew cool across your skin, a contrast with the wet heat radiating out from between your legs, obediently spread for your mentor’s inspection; a crude reminder that you had an audience.

So you put on a show, exaggerating the arch of your back as you walk your hands further down towards the base of the wall, playing up the angle of your ass in an attempt to beckon, to entice…

…to prod Dick into crossing the tension-filled line the two of you had been toeing for months now.

“It’s still not working.  I think I need a push.  A thrust from behind.“

There.  The final nail in the coffin.

All Nightwing needed to move.

You can hear it, sense it; the flurry of activity as a half-step brings him towards you: the cool sensation of Dick’s dark suit as he pressed his hips into your bare skin, the familiar sound of a glove slipping off before his palm is resting on the small of your back, a shudder of breath rising from the cavity of his chest, escaping in a soft hiss the moment he feels the touch of you, skin to skin.

He really was so obvious.

“Are you sure about this?  I-I can always try the explosives, if you want—“

And a gentleman through and through.

“Just fuck me, Dick Grayson.”

Another intake of breath, sharp this time, and Nightwing’s moan transforms into a growl, low and guttural.  You bite down hard onto your lower lip, doing your best not to draw blood though it was imperative that you did not scream.  But the feeling of Dick’s lips on your body — tracing kisses in arcs that rounded the flesh of your ass before traversing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs — made it difficult not to, especially when they grew in urgency, his tongue extending to lap the length of your slit, the heat of his breath combining with an appreciative hum that you felt more than heard, thrumming through your core.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmy—“

You barely recognized the sound of your own voice: pitched high and growing in desperation by the second in a way you knew would make you cringe later on to remember when you were dressed more casually in a t-shirt and jeans.  Because there was no way you’d ever forget the way this felt: Dick’s tongue laving slow before flicking fast across your swollen clit, the man’s mouth on your pussy nothing less than pure magic in the way he brought you just to the edge of orgasm before backing off, teasing you in this way over and over again.

They said he was a pretty boy with a face too handsome to shoot, a man who had no trouble scoring even after having made some bad life decisions, like wearing green pixie boots, or even sporting a mullet.  It didn’t hurt either that he could easily count his rear end among his best “ass”-ets: pert and ample and shapely enough to fill out his suit like nobody’s business.  But it was only now that you were realizing that when it came to Nightwing, looks were only a tiny part of the equation.

Because the way he worked you over was almost criminal — sinful with how good it felt to be at his complete mercy that you were actually thankful to have gotten stuck.  Having sat himself between the wall and your thighs, Dick ate you out with gusto, his fingers busy kneading the flesh of your ass when they weren’t sliding into your pussy, taking turns in competing with his tongue to see which could elicit the most salacious moans from your lips.

“Better keep it quiet over there.  Don’t wanna wake the neighbours.”  

The smirk is obvious in the voice of the hypocrite who shamelessly chose to ignore the wet sounds he himself was producing with his head between your legs, Dick lapping with abandon as his fingers gripped onto your hips, encouraging you to rest more of your weight onto that handsome face.

Your breasts ache within the confines of your suit, sorely missing the action on the other side of the wall.  In desperation, you touch yourself, trying in vain to feel pinches and caresses through material that just refused to give.  Frustration mounting, you accidentally let out a petulant whine — much to your horror.

Whining was never your thing.

But then again, neither was having sex through a hole in a wall.

“Baby, if you wanted more, just ask.”

Baby? BABY?! Did having midnight sex on a rooftop in the heart of Blüdhaven mean that you and Dick were at the point where terms of endearment were allowed?  Also, how was it possible that the word sounded a million times sexier coming from his mouth?!

Dick pulls away and there is more shuffling, more movement.  You imagine him pulling down the bottom half of his suit until it sits below the diamond-cut V of his hips, the sleek black second-skin hugging the rounded curves of his perfect glutes.  You imagine his tights bunched around the bulky musculature of his thighs, the same ones you covertly juiced over every time it was leg day at the gym.

You had always wondered whether he wore underwear beneath that unforgiving suit, and if so, how it was even possible for him to hide those lines.  For now, however, you were content with settling for the image of Dick Grayson pulling out his, well, dick, and slowly stroking from base to tip and back again, a smile on his lips as he contemplated the messy smear of your wet pussy, spread wide and waiting beneath the hazy glow of the city’s ambient light.

“You ready for your second lesson of the night?” he asks.

“Second lesson?  What was the first?”

“Not to jump through holes in walls unless you’re absolutely sure you can make it.”

You’re so lucky I’m horny as fuck right now, you grit your teeth.  “Right, of course, Professor Nightwing.  And what’s the second lesson?”

“I’m gonna teach you how to be quiet in any situation.  Now get ready for a pop quiz.”

THRUST!

Gasp!

You almost choke on it; the air that catches in your throat the moment Dick enters you fully with a single thrust of his powerful hips.  You can feel him, the base of his cock flush against your body, your walls pulsing in reaction to the sudden intrusion of his length, his hardness, his girth, Dick’s fingers spreading your cheeks wider as he attempted to bury himself even further.

“Keep quiet now.  Not a peep, understood?  Or else it’ll be an F for you.  And I know you don’t like to fail.  Isn’t that right, teacher’s pet?  Yes, that’s what I thought.  Such a good kitty.”

Dick reaches down as he says this, hand between your legs; petting and teasing as his fingers skirt over your clit in an attempt to see how wet you could get, how tightly your walls could squeeze around him.

He settles index and thumb in a crescent about the circumference of his cock as he picks up speed, savouring the feel of your delicate skin stretched thin and wide around his body, every stroke dislodging more and more of your mutual arousal, the creamy evidence eliciting a guttural moan from the man that you considered entirely unfair when you were forced to keep quiet in a stairwell that possessed the acoustics of an opera house.

“This feels incredible.  You are incredible,” Nightwing sighs, stopping to pull back for a moment, as if to admire the sight of your pussy trembling from his administrations, right before diving back in with renewed speed and vigour to make you clench both hands into fists, biting your lower lip until it was blanched of blood.  “God, I could fuck you all night.  All day too, for that matter.”

Dick Grayson had always been chatty.  Apparently, sex was no exception.  It made you blush; every sweet, filthy word falling from his lips adding so much to the lasciviousness of the situation that you weren’t sure which turned you on more: the way his cock managed to hit just the right angle at just the right time, or the way he played with your mind, his verbal calisthenics every bit a match for his physical prowess.

And though you did your best to stay quiet on your side of the wall, the lower half of your body was a different matter — arousal made obvious to your partner with every slick slide of his cock in and out of your body, the wet sounds of your copious juices dripping down to smear the insides of your thighs and across the hard, muscular plane of Dick’s groin.

Nightwing was right.  It felt incredible.  Even when stuck in a wall, he could’ve fucked you all day and night and you’d still want more, eager and willing to take him deeply into yourself, to have Dick do whatever he wanted with you.  Because you trusted him like you trusted no other:

You trusted him with your life.

And perhaps it is this very thought that sends you, makes you feel free to let go; stepping off the ledge of control to let the most intense orgasm of your life take you. 

Dick fucks through it: pushing through the clenching pulse of your walls around him, your pussy milking his cock as he neared his own completion.

But not before he gives you one hard, final thrust from behind.

Because Nightwing — always dutiful, always resourceful — would never leave his partner hanging, stuck in a brick wall with her bare ass exposed.

And right before you pass out from the arrival of a second orgasm coming fast on the tail end of the first, you feel it:

Your hips finally sliding through the hole…

…and your head meeting the ground.

And one Dick Grayson muttering:

“Oh shit.”

Ahahahaha!!  Hope y'all enjoyed that ending! 🤣 Thank you so much for reading till the very end!  Much love to each and every one of you! For more juicy reads, please check out my P*a*t*reon page (please see link in pinned post)!

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"Caught Between a Wall and a Hard Dick (Grayson)" is copyright 2022 Otonymous, all rights reserved.

(Illustration taken from Nightwing Cover #88 by Bruno Redondo)