#alpha dick grayson

Wally bounces in, cheeks warm, “Oh man, you should’ve seen him the other night! He was practically—”

But at once he goes still, head tilting as though he’s sniffed out a storm. You glance back to see Dick’s broad shoulders tightening, firm look in his eyes as the air between them crackling. Wally simply cracks a smile, winks at you, and you can’t help the soft giggle that slips free, melting the sudden tension.

Conversation resumes in a smooth ebb and flow. Dick regales you with dry wit, but you sense something unspoken, an electrified undercurrent, lurking behind every perfectly timed laugh. Then the music shifts: a deep, throbbing beat you adore. Your foot taps against the plush carpet, perfectly in sync, and before you know it, Wally catches Dick’s eye, nods, and together they rise to guide you toward the dance floor.

The moment you step under the strobes, you’re sandwiched between them., and you can’t truly complain. Wally’s hand curls at your waist, firm and warm, while Dick closes in from behind. You feel the heat of his chest pressed against your back and the soft brush of his stubble at your neck.

His breath, warm and intoxicating, carries the true scent of you—a mix of your floral scent and something far deeper, something that has clung to Wally’s clothes since he came home drenched in it the other night.

He’d practically attacked Wally in relief when he got back, desperate for any trace of you. Wally, ever mischievous, had produced a pair of your lace-trimmed underwear as proof, the delicate fabric still redolent of your skin.

Dick isn’t afraid to admit that he was mortified at first to meet you. A bit tongue-tied in front of you, eyes flicking with embarrassment, and trying to hide his obvious bulge once he got a whiff of you. But down here on the floor, with your scent wrapping around them and the heady pulse of the music, any reserve has evaporated.

Now Dick releases a low, throaty rumble in your ear while Wally’s fingers trail upward, fingertips ghosting along the curve of your hip. The mingling of their scents spins in the air like a private aphrodisiac. Every beat of the bass carries the promise of something more, and you find yourself leaning back into Dick’s solid form, surrendering to the electric night that has only just begun.

Your body is sandwiched between their heated forms, Dick's solid chest pressed against your back while Wally faces you, their combined scents—Dick's sandalwood and Wally's spicier, cinnamon-tinged warmth—enveloping you like a possessive cloud. Their eyes dart dangerously at nearby dancers, silently warning off anyone who dares look your way too long.

Wally's emerald eyes darken as he looks at you, at the image you make pressed against his alpha before he captures your mouth in a kiss that's all tongue and teeth, his fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head back. The wet sounds of your lips meeting are barely audible over the pounding bass, but Dick hears enough to make his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips, his breath coming faster against your neck as he watches Wally devour you.

When Wally finally breaks away, your lips are swollen and glistening, eyes focused on the beta who shoots Dick a wolfish wink before trailing open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt on your skin. The moment his lips find your pulse point, Dick's stubbled jaw scratches deliciously against the opposite side of your neck, both men marking you with synchronized precision.

The sweet-honey scent of your arousal intensifies, cutting through the club's haze of alcohol and perfume. Their matching groans vibrate against your skin as their hips instinctively grind forward, the unmistakable ridge of their erections pressing against you from both sides, making your knees weaken with dizzying pleasure.

Dick suddenly tears his mouth away with an audible gasp, his pupils blown so wide only a thin ring of midnight blue remains visible. He can feel his Aloha lingering right at the edge, a sign that he’s loosing control—regardless of how shameful he feels for admitting that.

His gaze darts across the writhing sea of bodies on the dance floor, jaw clenched tight enough to make the muscle beneath his stubbled cheek twitch. His hand slides possessively around your waist, five fingers splaying across your lower abdomen, the heat of his palm burning through the thin fabric of your dress as he guides you toward a velvet-roped corridor bathed in crimson light. Wally moves ahead like a sentinel, his broad shoulders, parting the crowd while occasionally shooting warning glances at wandering hands that drift too close to you, his freckled face momentarily hardening into something dangerous before softening when he looks back at you.

They lead you to a dimly lit back room with burgundy walls and low leather couches, illuminated only by recessed amber lighting that casts everyone in a golden glow. Dick walks you to the center of the plush carpet, turning you to face the doorway as his hands begin a slow exploration of your body. Here, away from prying eyes, his touch grows bolder, no longer concerned about others catching the intoxicating scent of your arousal that now perfumes the air around you.

Wally turns the lock with a decisive click before leaning back against the door, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he watches. His fingers work the top buttons of his shirt, revealing a tantalizing strip of freckled skin as Dick's hands travel from your waist upward. Dick's palm curves perfectly around your breast, kneading gently before continuing its journey up to your throat, where his fingers rest with just enough pressure to make your pulse jump.

He tilts your chin with his thumb, angling your face perfectly before claiming your mouth in a kiss so deep and filthy it makes your toes curl in your heels. The obscene sounds of your coupling echo in the room—your breathless moans and the wet slide of tongues deliberately exaggerated as Dick puts on a show, his eyes flicking to Wally's flushed face with smug satisfaction.

Eventually, he pulls away, his thumb dragging slowly across your kiss-swollen bottom lip, leaving a trail of dampness before his hooded gaze shifts to Wally, who remains pressed against the mahogany door, chest heaving beneath his half-unbuttoned shirt.

"Wow, what a pretty sight he makes," Dick purrs, voice like velvet against your ear. "Look how flushed he looks—cheeks stained crimson, pupils blown wide. He wants you so bad, baby." His tone caresses you like warm honey, but hardens to steel as he addresses Wally. "But you're going to stay right there, aren't you, Wally?"

When both you and Wally let out needy whines that echo in the dimly lit room, Dick's throaty chuckle vibrates against your skin. His large hand drifts down to encircle your throat, long fingers spanning the delicate column as he repositions himself to face you. The pad of his thumb traces lazy patterns over your fluttering pulse point, his midnight-blue eyes fixated on the motion as if entranced by the visible proof of your racing heartbeat. After several hypnotic strokes, his gaze locks with yours, another knowing chuckle escaping his lips as he catches the unmistakable scent of your arousal perfuming the air between you.

"Don't tell me you forgot their punishment already? I know Jason would have told you."

You pause, mind foggy with desire as you struggle to recall the hushed conversation from earlier—fragments of words exchanged in hurried whispers before everything spiraled into this intoxicating moment. Were they actually serious about that?

"What, you're gonna tell me you didn't love it?" Wally taunts, voice husky with need. Before you can process the movement, Dick stalks across the plush carpet to tower over Wally, whose emerald eyes gleam with defiance despite the submissive tilt of his head. Dick's fingers trace the prominent outline straining against Wally's tailored slacks before he leans down, lips brushing the shell of Wally's ear as he whispers something that makes Wally's breath catch audibly. Through it all, the bass from downstairs thrums through the floorboards, the muffled melody of some top-40 hit barely penetrating the sanctuary of your private room.

Dick returns to you with measured steps, the amber lighting casting golden highlights across his sharp cheekbones. "Nothing crazy or too wild will happen tonight," he promises, voice deep and reassuring, "but say 'red' if anything gets to be too much and we'll stop immediately."

When you nod, Dick rewards you with a smile so brilliant it crinkles the corners of his eyes, sending a cascade of endorphins flooding your system. Your omega instincts—buried deep in your hindbrain—practically purr with satisfaction at pleasing such a powerful alpha. Stupid, be cool, you scold yourself silently, even as your body betrays you.

Too late. The slick-proof panties you'd worn specifically to contain yourself have surrendered completely, soaked through with evidence of your arousal. You watch their nostrils flare simultaneously, pupils dilating as your scent reaches them, sweet and unmistakable in the enclosed space.

"Oh, we could have a lot of fun, couldn't we, sweetheart?" Dick's voice drops to a velvet rumble that vibrates through your chest. His mouth claims yours in a bruising kiss, tongue delving deep as his calloused fingertips trace fire up your inner thighs. Your dress—that flimsy barrier of midnight silk—bunches around your waist, exposing goosebump-covered skin to the cool air. His fingers hover at the lace edge of your underwear, the heat of his palm radiating against your lower abdomen as he waits, eyes questioning.

With a breathless nod, you grant permission. His fingers hook into your waistband, the elastic snapping against your skin as he peels the damp fabric down your trembling legs. In one fluid motion, he tosses the ruined garment across the room where Wally catches them with catlike reflexes. The redhead brings them to his face, inhaling deeply, eyes fluttering closed in momentary ecstasy before tucking them into his back pocket, the lace peeking out like a trophy.

Wally's belt buckle jingles as he works his pants open just enough to free himself, thick and flushed, the crown glistening with pearlescent fluid. His chest heaves with each labored breath, emerald eyes glazed with lust as he wraps long fingers around his length. "Roy didn't even get this much," he whispers, more to himself than anyone else.

Your back hits the cool wall as Dick maneuvers you across the room, his talented fingers already working inside you, stretching and exploring with devastating precision. You reach for him with one hand, fingers barely touching the waistband before he chuckles softly.

"No," Dick tsks, voice husky with need. "You're going to need both hands for this. Here, lift it." He captures your palm, before spitting to provide a bit more publication, his saliva warm as it pools in your cupped hand before guiding you back to him. The feel of him pulses between your fingers as you twist both hands in tandem, exactly the way you know drives Wally wild.

A strangled groan tears from Wally's throat as he recognizes the technique—your signature move. Your eyes lock across the room, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. His lips curl into a knowing smile as he recognizes your deliberate teasing. "Little minx," he mouths, his pace quickening as he watches your hands work his alpha to a frenzy.

Dick withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth with deliberate slowness. His tongue flicks out to taste you before he grips your thighs, hoisting you higher against the wall until you hover just above him. The blunt pressure of his cock teases your entrance as he positions himself.

When he pushes in, the invasion is gradual—a slow claiming that makes your breath catch as your body yields to his size. A sound like thunder rumbles from his chest as he buries himself completely, his weight pinning you to the wall. The stretch burns and soothes in equal measure, sending electric currents racing beneath your skin. His gaze captures yours, pupils blown wide with hunger as he watches every flicker of sensation cross your face, drinking in the way your spine arches instinctively to take him deeper.

The rhythm of his thrusts became a deep, animalistic grind, each movement reverberating through the very bones of the old club, a testament to the raw need that consumed you both. He had you pinned against the wall, one powerful arm braced above your head, fingers curling around the rough surface of the plaster while his other hand gripped your hip, anchoring you in place. Each thrust was deliberate, aimed precisely to strike that sweet spot deep inside you, leaving you gasping for more.

The shadows in the room danced wildly, flickering in time with his relentless movements as the air thickened with the mingled scents of sweat and arousal. Your slickness coated him, the honeyed tang of your desire permeating the space, making it feel like you were inhaling the aftermath of a thunderstorm—charged, electric, alive. The world outside faded, leaving only the pounding of your hearts and the primal connection binding you together in this moment of unrestrained passion.

Wally watched from a few feet away, lips parted and chest heaving, his own pleasure written in the tremors that made his knuckles white where he clutched at himself. He didn’t dare approach—Dick's orders had been clear and final—but his gaze devoured every exposed inch of you, every twitch and gasp as Dick took you apart. The two men communicated in a silent, primal language: Dick’s possessive glance over your shoulder, Wally’s stifled growl of envy and hunger, the tension sparking between them as the crescendo built.

With every drive of Dick’s hips, your body arched and shuddered, the wall leaving a cool dampness across your back as you slid higher with each desperate thrust. The world had narrowed to the blur of neon outside the half-frosted window and the ironclad grip of Dick’s hands as he claimed you, marking his territory in a way that was raw and almost reverent.

When Dick finally reached the edge; his breath hitting a staccato, jaw clenched so tight the tendons stood out in stark relief, he managed a last, brutal pull before dragging himself out and painting your belly with hot, sticky ropes. The first spatter caught you just over the waistband of your dress, and the next followed in a rhythm that matched the raggedness of his breathing.

You sagged against the wall, boneless and trembling, as Dick’s fingers lingered between your legs, gently coaxing out the last aftershocks.

Wally, strung so tight it looked like he might snap, came only a moment later, a strangled sound escaping him as he spilled over his own fist, the evidence of his need darkening the fabric of his shirt. He made no move to clean up—only stared at you, glassy-eyed, as if you were the answer to every prayer he’d forgotten how to ask.

In the breathless, sticky aftermath, Dick pressed his lips to your forehead, a surprisingly tender benediction, before smoothing your hair back into place. He pulled you upright, tucking your body to his side with the same casual possessiveness he’d shown all night, and turned to Wally with a look that said: She’s part of this, now. Wally, still catching his breath, only nodded, a crooked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

As you gathered yourself, dress clinging to the sweat on your skin, you realized your underwear was gone—not bunched around your ankles, not anywhere in sight. You opened your mouth to ask, but Dick was already one step ahead, kneeling gracefully to retrieve your purse from where it had fallen and handing it to you with a conspiratorial wink.

“Looks like you lost something, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice still thick with afterglow. Wally chimed in, “Must’ve gotten knocked off somewhere. We’ll just have to keep you extra safe on the way home, huh?” The way they exchanged glances—sheepish, sly, and more than a little proud—tipped you off. Your panties were gone by design, not by accident.

They made a show of searching the room, crawling around on hands and knees, but you could see the bulge in Wally’s pocket where a scrap of dark lace poked out. He had it clenched in his palm, a secret token he wasn’t about to surrender. You rolled your eyes and pretended not to notice, amusem*nt threading through the afterglow haze as Wally winked at you, conspirator to conspirator.

Dick, meanwhile, was already plotting the next moves. He straightened his shirt, slicked back his hair in the mirror, and surveyed the three of you with a newfound seriousness. The game wasn’t over—if anything, this had just been the opening gambit. Your missing underwear was a promise, a silent agreement that more was to come, and Dick relished the anticipation of it almost as much as the act itself.

When Wally finally peeled himself off the door, he sidled over and planted a kiss on your cheek, his breath still ragged but his eyes clear and intent. “Time to get you home,” he said, not quite a question. Dick’s hand tightened on your waist, and you felt the weight of their joint attention settle on you—heavy, exhilarating, and not a little scary.

You held back your words, the rhythm of your heart still echoing in your chest, the taste of Dick lingering on your lips rendering you momentarily speechless. Instead, you offered a small nod, and the three of you stepped out of the back room in a loose formation: Dick leading the way with his usual confident stride, while Wally followed closely, his presence steady and reassuring on either side of you like loyal sentinels. As you weaved through the club, the vibrant chaos around you faded into a blur; no one seemed to notice the charged trio moving through the thrumming crowd. Yet, you felt the weight of an unspoken bond, a tether forged by both men that wrapped around you as you made your way toward the exit.

Once outside, the cool night air brushed against your flushed skin, invigorating and refreshing. The city lights flickered like stars against the dark canvas of the sky, casting playful shadows on the pavement. “Let’s grab something to eat,” Dick suggested, glancing down at you with a knowing grin. Wally nodded in agreement, mischief dancing in his eyes. You strolled together, the sidewalks alive with nightlife sounds, laughter spilling from nearby bars and the distant hum of traffic.

As you walked, Dick's fingers brushed possessively against your lower back, guiding you forward, while Wally kept pace beside you, his gaze protective yet teasing. When you reached a drive-through, the enticing aroma of grilled meats and spices wafted through the air, making your stomach growl in anticipation. Dick ordered for all of you, his voice smooth and commanding, while you and Wally exchanged amused glances, the camaraderie deepening with each shared smile.

With bags of steaming food in hand, you continued your journey, laughter bubbling up as you recounted snippets of the evening, every moment laced with a thrill that lingered in the air. Finally, as you approached your apartment building, the warmth of the night enveloped you, but it was the closeness of the two men that truly ignited your senses. Standing at your door, Dick leaned in, brushing his lips against your temple—a gentle reminder of the connection you now shared. Wally hovered close, his eyes sparkling with promise, and you felt a rush of excitement course through you, knowing this was just the beginning of what lay ahead.

a/n: this one and the next are a bit more written like vague ideas with smut, so sorry about that! regardless i hoped you enjoyed! also, i think that first image is so fucking funny to me which is why i included it

sorry for the late post: i had issues with a client postponing on me, and it's left me scrambling for other jobs. that being said, i will be shameless and promote my commissions are open, please consider requesting some work from me, visit my masterlists to see my other quality of work.

as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! here's a kiss from me to you!😘 see ya tomorrow!

But Jason dies. Jason really dies, and Dick is freaking devastated. Yet he still has to become the Emperor because despite competing for the throne, both he and Jason had made a promise to each other. No matter who ended up claiming the throne, they would take care of the empire and make it prosper. So Dick continues living, day by day, even though it no longer feels like living at all.

Then one day, out of nowhere, it is revealed that Prince Damian al Ghul of the Eternal Dominion of Nanda Parbat, son of Talia al Ghul, is in fact the blood son of Emperor Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul.

At first, when Talia and Damian come to Gotham, everyone assumes that they have come to claim the throne from Dick. But their assumptions are wrong because Damian is already set to succeed as the next High Sovereign of Nanda Parbat.

They have come only to propose an alliance through marriage because it seems that the current High Sovereign of Nanda Parbat, Ra's al Ghul, has taken slight at the Gotham Empire due to Bruce's refusal to acknowledge Damian as his legitimate child. So Talia, Damian, and Damian's older brother discuss the best possible solution, and they decide to propose an alliance.

Marriage seems to be the strongest option because both Gotham and Nanda Parbat are powerful enough on their own and have no real reason to seek help from one another. Therefore, a marriage alliance would provide a legitimate reason for peace and cooperation between the two nations while also appeasing Ra's and preventing him from attacking Gotham and inciting a war.

Seeing how all of his siblings already have their own relationships and families, Dick agrees to take a spouse from Nanda Parbat, specifically Damian's older brother, because he's the only Al Ghul not bound to anything. As per tradition, and because both Dick and Talia want the arrangement to proceed quickly, preparations for the marriage begin almost immediately.

Dick is already resigned to his fate because, honestly, he has nothing left to lose. And the promise he once made with Jason becomes the only thing fueling his decision to go through with this arranged marriage because such an alliance would undoubtedly benefit both empires, and that is exactly the kind of future both he and Jason once wanted.

Dick knows almost nothing about his fiance except for his age, gender, and the fact that he is Damian's older brother and Talia's son. It seems that his fiance is not her son by blood but rather by the bond they share. Dick doesn't particularly care. As long as his fiance's claim is legitimate, everything will be fine. After all, even his own family was never bound by blood.

Then the day of the wedding finally arrives. And for the first time, Dick gets to see his fiance's face. When he lifts the veil, he freezes because that is Jason. His Jason. His little wing. His rival. His sweetheart. All the same, and yet just a little older.

At first, Dick isn't sure. But scents never lie and that cheeky smile, those freckles, and those pouty lips are all exactly the same. Jason smiles at him softly.

"It's been a while, dearest brother." Then his smile turns teasing.

"Or should I say... dearest husband?" His eyes soften.