#Unwanted Reunions | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

solar-wing · 2 months ago

Text

⚣ Shadowing Nightwing 🌗

🌃 Nightwing & Shadow 🌃 | 🌙 Nightwing's Shadow 🌙 |

⚣🌗 A/N → yall... i- i have no words for this. Final installment of the rewritten Nightwing & Shadow series. Hard to believe I first did this story over a year and a half ago and I'm just now finishing the third installment of the new version of it. And since it took so long, I decided to go all out...and I do mean all out. Someone get me to a church. ANYWAY, I hope you guys enjoy this! no i seriously do cause this right here is NAAAUUSSSSTTYYY! WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI | Omegaverse | Yandere Themes| Heavy Themes of Dub/Non-Con | Coercion | Finger Play | Oral Play | Full Smut | Manhandling | M-PREG | Knotting | Captivity | Mild Descriptive Violence | Mentions of Abortion | Heavy Implication of Gender Roles | ETC |

⚣🌗 Summary → Shadow, once a beacon of justice and independence for Omegas everywhere, has been reduced to nothing more than a subservient house Omega under the suffocating control of Dick Grayson. Living beneath the relentless gaze of Nightwing and Batman isn’t for the faint of heart—but they’re about to learn the hard way that Gotham’s Omega Savior is far stronger than they ever gave him credit for. After all, a shadow doesn’t just follow—it leads, outpacing those who underestimate it.

⚣🌗 Words → 15.4K (Post) | 45.3K (Total)

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🌗

Y/N lay on his side, staring blankly through the window from the grand canopy bed in one of the many guest suites in Wayne Manor. The sheets were soft, expensive, and suffocating. Dick had insisted on carrying him all the way up here after their first heated "reunion" in the bathroom. Even now, Y/N’s body ached from the aftermath—his abused genitals throbbing with soreness and unwanted arousal.

The bedroom door creaked open, breaking Y/N from his haze. Dick strolled in, his casual confidence evident in every step. He was dressed down now, only in a pair of sweatpants with no shirt, but his presence was no less oppressive. His smile was soft, but his eyes were filled with that familiar, possessive hunger.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Dick asked, his tone low, almost tender.

Y/N clenched his jaw, refusing to respond. He’d learned that silence was his only weapon in this warped power dynamic. But the Omega’s silence didn’t seem to faze Dick—if anything, it seemed to amuse him. He approached the bed, settling himself on the edge beside Y/N, his hand reaching out to stroke Y/N’s hair.

“You’re still mad,” Dick observed with a chuckle, his fingers trailing down to caress Y/N’s cheek. “But that’s okay. You’ll get used to it here. To me.”

The Omega's skin burned under the Alpha's touch, and his stomach twisted in a mix of anger and disgust. Y/N jerked his head away, his voice strained. “That’s what you think. If you think abduction and holding me hostage are elements of a loving relationship, you and your family are more delusional and detached from reality than I could believe.”

Dick’s smile faded slightly, but his eyes remained dark and determined. “I know you think that now, but things change, Y/N. You’ll see. You just need to accept it.”

Y/N felt a surge of defiance swell within him. “Accept what? Being your prisoner? Your breeding stock?”

Dick’s expression hardened, and he leaned closer, his lips hovering near Y/N’s ear. “Accept that you’re mine, Y/N. You were always meant to be.” He pulled back, his tone softening again, almost coaxing. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to make you see that.”

Y/N's eyes narrowed, feeling a fierce determination flaring within him as he stared into the Alpha’s cocky gaze. He knew he couldn’t react, couldn’t fight back, at least not yet. As much as everything inside of him wanted to be anywhere but where he was at that moment, he was well aware that things would not be that simple or easy.

This was of course the Dark Knight, and his long-time sidekick he was dealing with.

The door opened again, and Bruce entered, his presence as commanding as ever. Speak of the devil…

“I trust you’re settling in,” he said, his gaze shifting between Dick and Y/N. His voice was calm but authoritative—a reminder of the invisible chains that bound Y/N to this manor.

“Oh, it’s an adjustment,” Y/N replied tersely, his voice betraying the dull, persistent ache in his lower regions—a testament to the rough "welcome" he'd endured just minutes ago on the cold porcelain counter. The soreness was mingled with an irritating warmth, a reminder of the Alpha’s invasive presence still lingering inside him.

Dick’s eyes glinted with pride as he picked up on the Omega’s resentful arousal. He said nothing, but his hand found its way to Y/N’s thigh, his fingers pressing down firmly. Y/N’s body tensed instantly, a sharp breath escaping him as he fought the urge to pull away. Bruce’s eyebrow arched at the sight, but he remained silent, satisfied with the subtle exchange.

Bruce nodded, his expression a mix of stern authority and old-fashioned pragmatism. “Good. We’ll give you time to settle in. I’ll have movers bring over your belongings from your apartment, and you can make this room your own. It’s important that you feel at home here—both for your own adjustment and for the future we envision.”

He turned to Dick, his tone shifting to that of a strict father setting boundaries. “Dick, you’ll be returning to Blüdhaven for a while, to give Y/N the necessary space to process his new surroundings. I expect you to sleep in your own room tonight and not push things too far, too fast.”

Too late for that.

Y/N’s chest tightened with a mixture of relief and dread, knowing that Bruce’s orders were likely temporary and primarily symbolic. It was less about respect for Y/N’s needs and more about enforcing his own twisted version of order. Still, he forced a nod, keeping his face neutral.

Bruce’s gaze returned to Y/N, his eyes sharp but not unkind. “As for returning to the field as Shadow, that won’t be happening right away. I believe it’s best for you to focus on adjusting to your role here—accepting Dick as your Alpha and, in time, embracing your place as an Omega. I know it’s not what you’re used to, but there are certain… expectations when it comes to family, structure, and tradition. I want you to take this time to understand that before we reintroduce you to the dangers of vigilante work.”

Y/N's stomach churned at Bruce’s words. The idea of being kept away from the field, especially under the pretense of “adjusting to his role,” was suffocating. It wasn’t just about him being Shadow—it was about keeping Y/N contained, trapped in a place designed to break him down and remold him to fit their desires. This was as much about control as it was about protection—protection from what, Y/N wasn’t even sure anymore. He simply nodded again, knowing full well that compliance was his only path forward.

“Fine,” Y/N agreed, his tone deliberately flat.

Bruce’s gaze remained steady as if assessing the Omega’s compliance. Satisfied, he nodded. “Good. I’ll see you both in the morning. Alfred starts breakfast by 7 so I’ll expect you both down there promptly. Dick, behave..”

Dick’s jaw tensed, a flicker of defiance flashing in his eyes, but he nodded, though it was clear the agreement was reluctant.

After Bruce left and closed the door behind him, Dick, seemingly content with Y/N’s outward submission, stepped closer. “Come on, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice layered with false gentleness as he extended a hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Y/N resisted the urge to pull away, but he took the offered hand, letting himself be pulled off the bed and led into the adjoining bathroom. It was lavish and expansive, much like the rest of the manor, with a large marble shower already running, steam billowing around them.

Dick sat Y/N gently on the bathroom counter, his hands lingering on Y/N’s thighs, thumbs tracing the flesh possessively. Y/N clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the ache in his groin—a mix of soreness and lingering arousal from earlier. The Alpha’s scent was thick in the air, mingling with the steam, amplifying Y/N’s conflicted arousal. Dick’s touch was deceptively soft, as he helped Y/N out of his ruined suit, peeling away the fabric to reveal marked skin.

Once Y/N was fully exposed, Dick’s gaze lingered over the bruises and love bites scattered across the Omega’s body. He leaned in, pressing soft kisses to each mark, his voice low with a mix of apology and pride. “I know it’s a lot, but you wear them so well, baby.”

Y/N remained silent, his body tense, as Dick lifted him from the counter and carried him bridal-style into the shower. The water was hot, stinging against the sensitive spots on Y/N’s skin. Dick began to wash Y/N’s body with deliberate care, his hands rougher than necessary as they explored every inch of the Omega’s form. Y/N’s body responded, unwillingly, a traitorous heat pooling between his thighs. Dick’s fingers lingered there, massaging the slit between his legs slowly, his thumb teasing the slits while his other hand groped the small phallus organ that pulse slightly under his large grip..

Y/N tried to suppress a gasp, but the soft sound escaped him, earning a pleased hum from Dick. “See? You can’t help it. Your body knows who you belong to,” Dick murmured against Y/N’s ear, his voice filled with possessive satisfaction.

Y/N bit down on his lip, his hatred for Dick intensifying. He hated how his own body betrayed him, responding to the Alpha’s touch with a mix of desperation and resentment. The humiliation of it all only fueled his silent resolve: he’d find a way out of this, no matter what.

When the shower was done, Dick carried Y/N back to the room, giving him a rare moment of privacy. “You can dry off and lotion up,” he said, stepping back and out of the room with a promise to return swiftly.

Y/N took the opportunity to quickly dry himself and apply lotion, his movements efficient but hurried. As he finished, Dick returned with a pair of boxers and one of his shirts, laying them out on the bed. “Here, put these on,” the Alpha instructed, a smirk forming on his lips as his eyes roamed over Y/N’s vulnerable form, his gaze filled with an obsession that felt suffocating. “I want you to smell like me.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, suspicious of the Alpha’s intentions, but he took the clothes without argument. Dick turned around to give him a semblance of privacy, though Y/N could see the Alpha watching through the reflection of the large window in the room. Y/N quickly changed, the shirt and boxers feeling too intimate against his skin, the scent of Dick overpowering.

When he was done, he cleared his throat, signaling to Dick. The Alpha turned, his expression softening slightly as he approached Y/N. He leaned down, their faces inches apart, pressing a slow, possessive kiss to the Omega’s lips, his hand resting possessively on Y/N’s knee. Y/N didn’t return the kiss but maintained eye contact—an act of defiance that Dick acknowledged with a knowing smile.

“I humored you this time,” Dick said, his voice low. “But remember, I don’t need permission to look at your body. It, and you, belong to me.”

He suddenly yanked Y/N down onto the bed, positioning himself between Y/N’s legs. Y/N gasped at the unexpected motion, his legs spreading involuntarily, the heat of Dick’s body radiating against his own.

“Got that, babe?” Dick murmured, his lips pressing against the junction of Y/N’s neck and shoulder, right where his scent gland pulsed. He nipped at the skin, his teeth leaving a small, possessive mark.

“Got it,” Y/N gritted out, his fingers clenching into the sheets, his anger growing alongside the persistent, frustrating arousal.

Dick chuckled, his mouth curling into a cruel smile. “That’s my good boy.” He pulled Y/N up toward the head of the bed, positioning himself between Y/N and the door as he tucked them both under the covers, clearly disregarding Bruce’s faux order to sleep in his own bed. “Tim and Damian will help unpack your things tomorrow. Jason’s keeping an eye on your old place, so nothing goes missing—and maybe, in the future, we can go back there. Invite your old friend over, just so he can hear me fucking you against the door.”

Despite the crude words, a traitorous pool of arousal gathered in Y/N’s stomach, his body responding against his will. But beneath that, simmering beneath the surface, was a cold and calculated rage—a plan slowly forming in his mind.

Dick’s eyes flashed with a dangerous mix of victory and excitement as they lay on the soft, expensive sheets. “This is all I need, baby. Just you… here, with me.” He reached out, his hand resting possessively on Y/N’s thigh, his grip firm and claiming.

Y/N’s skin crawled at the touch, but he forced himself to remain still. He would endure this for as long as it took—until he could finally break free.

He’d get out of this. He’d get his revenge. And when he did, it would be slow, humiliating, and thorough.

Days blurred into weeks, and weeks into months. Y/N settled into a strange routine, with Dick constantly shifting between obsessive affection and domineering control. Whenever Dick was around, he oscillated between being tender and aggressive—bringing Y/N flowers one moment, only to pin him against the wall and rut into him the next. Nights were filled with rough, claiming sex, where Dick alternated between slow, sensual thrusts and raw, relentless fucking, always asserting dominance over Y/N’s body.

Whenever Dick left for Blüdhaven, Y/N felt a fleeting sense of relief. The days alone in Wayne Manor gave him moments of reprieve, but they were never truly free of surveillance. Alfred, true to Bruce’s orders, kept a watchful eye, making sure Y/N stayed within the designated rooms and didn’t do anything “out of line.” Meanwhile, Bruce’s strict regimen remained unwavering. He reminded Y/N of his role—both as Dick’s Omega and as a future asset to the Bat-Family.

Y/N’s introductions to the rest of the family were tense and calculated. Tim approached him with clinical curiosity, often observing Y/N’s behavior while trying to maintain an air of aloofness. Damian was less subtle, his disdain evident but mixed with a strange fascination—curiosity, perhaps, about how someone could challenge Dick’s claim so defiantly. Jason, surprisingly, was the least invasive, only stepping in occasionally, as if the whole ordeal bored him.

Despite the façade of family acceptance, Y/N’s presence remained a source of underlying tension. Everyone noticed that the bond between Dick and Y/N wasn’t taking hold as expected. The Omega’s stubborn resistance to Dick’s advances was palpable, his hatred simmering just beneath the surface. It wasn’t lost on Bruce, who often reminded Dick of his responsibility to “tame” Y/N, using the Omega’s reluctance as fuel to justify the invasive measures to come.

As time dragged on, it became clear to Dick's family that Y/N wasn’t relenting. His resistance gnawed at Dick’s patience, and the Alpha’s attempts at romantic gestures grew increasingly desperate. His frustrations were visible—every unreciprocated kiss, every empty “I love you,” only fueled the darkness within him. And as Y/N remained indifferent, the seed of an idea began to take root in Dick’s mind—one that Bruce subtly encouraged: ensuring Y/N’s loyalty by breeding him.

Though, it wouldn't go as expected.

Dick had been gone in Blüdhaven and for other missions for some time, far too long in his own head while Y/N would argue that it wasn't long enough. The night of his return, he'd opted out of patrol for that night, instead volunteering to give Alfred of reprieve from monitoring the Bat-Computer and the comms along with the Omega. Bruce figured it was a good idea as a way to start getting Y/N acclimated to their operation and procedures even if he still hadn't relented on letting him return as Shadow yet.

That's when it began.

Y/N had reluctantly accompanied Dick, who insisted that he wanted to “spend time together.” Dick was stationed at the Bat-Computer, coordinating comms and responding to Batman’s orders while Y/N sat beside him, scrolling through his phone. The space was dimly lit, filled with the soft hum of machinery and Dick’s occasional typing.

Dick, sensing Y/N’s boredom, pulled him closer, grinning when Y/N tried to inch his chair away. “Why do you always do this, baby?” Dick teased, his hands tugging Y/N onto his lap. Y/N squirmed in protest, but the motion only seemed to excite Dick more, as the hard length beneath Y/N’s thighs made clear.

“You know,” Dick began, his voice low, almost tender, “I can’t wait for when we have traditions like this—monitoring the city together, planning missions side by side.” His words dripped with longing. “Maybe our kids will take after us someday, running comms while you and I are out in the field.”

Y/N stiffened, his back rigid against Dick’s chest. The Alpha’s words struck a chord, one filled with implications Y/N wasn’t ready to face. “I’m serious,” Dick continued, pressing soft kisses along Y/N’s neck. “We’ll have a big house, kids who’ll inherit our skills. I’ll be the best dad—always making sure you’re happy and safe.”

Y/N tried to ignore the warmth pooling in his stomach, a traitorous reaction to Dick’s fantasies. He focused on his phone, willing himself not to respond, but Dick’s hands began to wander. Gentle caresses turned into possessive strokes, and soon Y/N found himself pinned against the Bat-Computer, his thin sweats pulled down to his ankles.

Dick thrust into Y/N slowly at first, relishing every inch as he filled the Omega, his hands gripping Y/N’s thighs to keep him in place. The slick sounds filled the cavernous room, mingling with Y/N’s soft whimpers as Dick’s pace gradually increased. Y/N tried to focus on the dull glow of the monitors, tried to detach himself from the overwhelming sensations, but it was impossible. Dick’s voice was a constant murmur in his ear—equal parts loving and possessive.

“You feel so good, baby,” Dick groaned, his movements becoming more forceful. “I love how wet you get for me.”

Y/N’s body reacted despite himself, his insides clenching around the Alpha’s cock. The humiliation only fueled his anger, but it also fed into his arousal—a maddening mix that left him trapped between hate and want. Dick’s thrusts grew erratic, his desire for control evident in every rough stroke.

Dick paused suddenly, leaning back just enough to observe Y/N’s body. His gaze darkened, a smug grin curling his lips as he noted something amiss. “You know, you haven’t leaked for me in a while,” he taunted, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. He ran his thumb teasingly over one of Y/N’s nipples, as if to draw out the desired response. “Not a drop. What happened, baby? Are you so mad at me that your body’s forgotten how to be a good little Omega?”

The mockery in his tone only added to Y/N’s humiliation, but before he could respond, Dick’s demeanor shifted, and the Alpha pulled back just enough to look Y/N directly in the eyes, a dark intensity replacing his earlier gentleness. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me, haven’t you?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, confusion and fear mingling in his gaze. “What are you talking about?”

Dick’s hand suddenly moved to grip Y/N’s arm—one that housed the small contraceptive implant. He squeezed it roughly, his fingers digging into the flesh. “This,” he growled, the word dripping with accusation. “When were you planning to tell me about this little device, hmm?”

Shock and dread washed over Y/N. Shit. He tried to pull his arm away, but Dick’s grip was unrelenting. “How—how did you know about it,” Y/N managed to ask, his voice barely a whisper.

Dick’s smile was cruel, filled with both satisfaction and anger. “Oh, baby, did you forget whose family you're part of now? Did you really think you could hide something like this from us, from me?”

Y/N’s throat tightened, and he struggled to find the words. “It’s not—”

“Not what?” Dick interrupted, his voice cold. “Not something meant to keep you from giving me what I want? From fulfilling your role as my Omega?”

Y/N’s eyes burned with unshed tears, a mix of rage and helplessness. “It’s my body, Dick. I get to decide.”

But the Alpha wasn’t listening. His free hand moved to Y/N’s throat, holding him firmly but not enough to restrict his breathing. “Not anymore,” he hissed. “You belong to me, Y/N. Every part of you.”

Dick’s thrusts resumed, but this time they were brutal, driven by a need to reassert his control. Y/N gasped at the intensity, his body jolting with each thrust, the computer’s edge digging into his back. Dick’s hand moved from Y/N’s throat to his jaw, forcing Y/N to meet his gaze. “I’m going to have it removed,” he declared, his voice filled with dark promise. “And then we’ll see how long it takes for you to accept your real place here.”

Y/N’s hatred for Dick solidified in that moment. This wasn’t just about domination—it was about breaking him completely, about taking away even the smallest semblance of control he had left. But Y/N vowed silently: he wouldn’t break, not like this. He’d find a way to use even this violation to fuel his escape, to strengthen his resolve.

But it was a bitter comfort in the face of what was to come. The weeks following the discovery of his contraceptive implant would be some of the darkest Y/N had ever endured. Dick's anger was palpable, simmering beneath every interaction, his obsessive need to dominate Y/N now mixed with betrayal. The Alpha’s desire for control grew more aggressive, his touches rougher, his demands more insistent. Where once there was the occasional hint of tenderness, there was now only a relentless, violent hunger.

Dick’s need to assert dominance over Y/N became brutal and unrelenting. He fucked Y/N whenever and wherever the urge struck—against walls, across tables, even in the middle of the night while Y/N slept. Dick's hand would clamp down over Y/N’s mouth, silencing any protest, and his hips would thrust with a single-minded need to remind Y/N of who owned him. Y/N’s body bore the marks of this unending battle: bruises, bites, and the ever-present soreness that followed each rough encounter.

At first, Y/N fought back fiercely, swinging between rage and disgust at the Alpha’s behavior. But resistance only seemed to heighten Dick's obsession, making him more desperate, more cruel. Dick’s eyes glinted with a dark satisfaction whenever Y/N struggled, as if every ounce of defiance was just further confirmation of the Omega’s need to be “broken.” Eventually, Y/N's resistance waned—not because his spirit was crushed, but because he understood that biding his time was his only option. He could no longer afford to waste energy fighting back physically; he needed to play the long game.

But a near breaking point came with the decision to remove the contraceptive implant. After discovering it, Dick wasted no time in making arrangements. Within days, Bruce had called in a favor with one of his surgeon contacts, setting the wheels in motion for a rushed, unsanctioned surgery. Y/N’s protests were loud and filled with rage—this violation was a line even Dick hadn’t crossed before, a forced act that stripped away the last shred of Y/N’s bodily autonomy.

“You can’t do this!” Y/N shouted as he was restrained by Bruce and Tim, the sterile scent of the operating room mixed with the sickly sweet smell of his own fear.

Dick’s expression was cold, determined. “You don’t get to decide that anymore,” he said flatly, his eyes devoid of their usual playful arrogance. “Not when you kept this from me.”

The procedure itself was quick but traumatic, the pain both physical and symbolic. As the surgeon removed the implant, Y/N felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness wash over him, like a final tether to his autonomy being severed. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall, biting down on his lip so hard that he tasted blood.

In the days following, Y/N was a mix of raw pain and seething rage. But amidst the anguish, there was a small, bitter hope—a sense that this forced change might actually work in his favor. Behind his flushed cheeks and angered breaths, the embers of his hatred burned hotter than ever. He would use this moment—this twisted, unwanted intimacy—to stoke his plan for revenge.

After the removal of his IUD, it wasn’t long before the familiar, overwhelming warmth flooded his veins, turning his thoughts hazy with lust. His scent, which had been muted and suppressed for so long, became potent—thick, heady, and impossible to ignore. The air in the room turned cloying with pheromones, the distinctive musk signaling his vulnerability as an Omega.

The scent reached Dick almost immediately, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the potent aroma. The Alpha’s reaction was instant and primal, his pupils dilating as a rush of possessive desire surged through him. Y/N’s heat had triggered an impromptu rut, the feral side of Dick emerging with brutal force. His muscles tensed, every instinct urging him to claim Y/N thoroughly and completely.

Dick wasted no time. With a guttural growl, he grabbed Y/N and effortlessly hoisted him over his shoulder, his grip firm around the Omega’s thighs. Y/N let out a startled gasp, his body trembling from the sudden shift in position and the Alpha's dominating hold. Dick’s hand landed possessively on Y/N’s ass, a rough squeeze meant to both assert control and savor the Omega’s helplessness. The position only intensified Y/N’s arousal, the heat of his slick seeping through his underwear as he was carried like prey by his captor.

The room spun in Y/N’s vision as he dangled over Dick’s shoulder, the Alpha’s hand stroking the back of his thigh possessively. “You smell so fucking good, baby,” Dick rumbled, his voice thick with desire. “I’m going to take you apart.”

Every step sent jolts of stimulation through Y/N’s channel, his arousal heightened by the rough handling. His hands instinctively clutched at Dick’s back, his fingers digging into the taut muscles beneath the fabric of the Alpha’s black shirt.

“Put me down, Dick,” Y/N managed to protest weakly, but the heat-induced haze made it sound more like a plea than a demand.

“Oh, I will,” Dick replied darkly, his grip tightening as he crossed the room. “Right after I’ve got you exactly where I want you.”

Dick strode confidently toward the bed, his steps purposeful and filled with possessive intent. He tossed Y/N onto the mattress, the Omega landing with a soft thud, legs splayed as he tried to regain his composure. But the moment his back hit the bed, Y/N knew there would be no escaping the Alpha’s determination—no mercy, no reprieve. Only the raw, primal force of Dick’s rut colliding with his heat.

For the next several days, the bed became their battleground. Y/N’s slick drenched the sheets, his body leaking copiously—more than it ever had before, as if making up for lost time. The resurgence of his body’s natural lactosecretion only added to Dick’s fervor, his dark satisfaction evident in every claiming thrust. Outside of heat, Y/N remained stubbornly dry, a fact that gnawed at Dick’s psyche, intensifying his obsession with conquering the Omega completely.

“Fu-FUCK… a-ah, D-Dick hurry u-up… FUCK… pl-please,” Y/N groaned, his hands balling into fists as he pounded them against Dick’s sweaty back. Each teasing, agonizingly slow thrust left Y/N on the brink of insanity. He could feel the soreness in the junction between his neck and shoulder—a place sore from the numerous times Dick had sunk his teeth into it.

Y/N had lost count of how many times they’d fucked over the past week. The air was thick with sex and sweat, a stifling combination that blurred the line between pleasure and torment. The first heat after suppressants was always the hardest, the body’s natural rhythm disrupted, leaving Y/N’s mind fogged by lust. Dick’s anger seemed to vanish the moment he caught the first whiff of Y/N’s scent, his dark eyes gleaming with unbridled hunger.

Y/N wasn’t permitted to leave the bed except to shower or use the toilet. Even those brief moments of respite were often interrupted by Dick’s spontaneous urges, pressing Y/N against the shower tiles or fucking him on the cold bathroom floor. Each time, Y/N’s brain fogged over with carnal need, even as his resentment simmered beneath the surface.

“What's that baby?” Dick taunted, his voice thick with satisfaction as he continued his torturously slow thrusts. He barely grazed Y/N’s prostate, making the Omega whine in desperation. “You want me to fill you up, huh?”

“Do that again!” Y/N begged, wiggling his hips to create friction against Dick’s swollen cock. His walls clenched tightly, trying to keep the Alpha inside, desperate for the fullness that was constantly being denied.

Dick chuckled, the sound dark and low. His tongue flicked over one of Y/N’s leaking nipples, drawing a sharp gasp from the Omega. “You want my knot, little Omega?” he whispered against the sensitive bud, sending shivers down Y/N’s spine.

“Please…” Y/N’s voice broke, his body trembling with need.

“You gonna give me what I want?” Dick murmured into Y/N’s ear, his words like a dark promise. He released Y/N’s hands, allowing the Omega to scratch at his back—an act Dick encouraged by having Alfred remove all nail clippers. A testament to how much Dick liked being marked by the submissive just as much as he liked seeing the Omega marked by him. Even when Y/N had tried to bite his nails, Dick cuffed his hands behind his back for two days as punishment.

“Yes, yes I will! I promise!” Y/N cried, his words spilling out in a haze of desperation.

A guttural growl rumbled from Dick’s chest. He grabbed Y/N’s hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat while his other hand wrapped around the Omega's painfully engorged phallus member. The hot and throbbing opening between his slick-covered slits beneath the small shaft of his penis was in no better state with the Alpha's girth stretching the rim.

Dick pumped his fist, the motion rough and unforgiving. Y/N whimpered, his body arching as the dual sensations threatened to overwhelm him. His walls tightened around the Alpha's cock, the pressure increasing with each stroke.

“You’re gonna look so good carrying our baby,” Dick growled, delivering a punishing thrust against Y/N’s prostate at the mention of pregnancy. “I can’t wait for everyone to see your round belly, knowing it was me who knocked you up.”

The words, meant to be a show of dominance, sent Y/N into a spiral of pleasure and loathing. He screamed, his body shaking with overstimulation as Dick’s knot began to swell, locking them together. The Alpha’s teeth sank into Y/N’s shoulder, marking him again as his semen flooded the Omega’s insides.

“You’ll always be mine, no matter what,” Dick muttered, his voice filled with raw possessiveness. Y/N could feel the Alpha’s triumph in every word, his body still throbbing from the intense knotting.

The following 21 days were a blur of sex and psychological torment. Even after the mating cycles had broken, Dick continued to fuck Y/N relentlessly, determined to cement his claim in every way possible. The bed became their primary battlefield, but it wasn’t the only one—walls, tables, and the floor were all fair game in Dick’s obsessive pursuit of dominance.

Despite the physical exhaustion, Y/N’s mind remained clear—even with the consistent clouded mentality: this was all part of Dick’s attempt to establish complete control. And while his body couldn’t help but respond to the Alpha’s touch, his mind remained fiercely resistant.

Dick’s excitement to confirm a pregnancy grew with each passing day, and he became increasingly impatient. He refused to settle for a drugstore pregnancy test, insisting on seeing a doctor for definitive results. Bruce, as always, called in a favor to make it happen.

For the Alpha, the waiting results were not what he was expecting, much less hoping for. But for the Omega, it was a sign that there was a chance, a small window of opportunity.

When the doctor confirmed the negative result, Y/N could see the rage and disappointment flash across Dick's face. The Alpha's grip tightened around his arm, his fingers digging into the flesh. "How is that possible?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger.

“You didn't deliver on your promise,” Dick seethed after receiving the news.

The doctor’s explanation was simple: Y/N’s body was actively rejecting Dick’s mark and his sperm. The emotional turmoil Y/N harbored was severe enough to trigger a physiological response, preventing pregnancy. It was a rare but possible occurrence among male Omegas—one that worked in Y/N’s favor.

Dick was livid. His hands clenched into fists, his eyes flashing with a dangerous mixture of hurt and fury. “You promised me!” he shouted once they were back at Wayne Manor. The echo of his voice filled the grand hall, adding to the oppressive atmosphere that had settled over the estate.

“Well, you should know better than to believe anything we Omegas say when we’re that frustrated and horny,” Y/N retorted, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Dick’s rage was palpable, but so was the growing tension between them. Y/N’s resistance had driven the Alpha to desperation, and the failure to conceive only made Dick more aggressive. He abandoned any pretense of kindness, reverting back to the cocky bastard Y/N had first met on that rooftop—only worse.

Dick made good on his earlier promise. One evening, he drove Y/N back to his old apartment, the sight of the familiar building pulling a pang of bittersweet nostalgia from the Omega. Y/N’s heart ached as they approached the entrance, the memories of a life he’d once known flooding back—moments of freedom, fleeting happiness, and a time before Dick’s suffocating presence.

But this wasn’t a visit for sentimentality. As soon as they stepped through the door, Dick’s demeanor shifted from quiet control to something darker, more menacing. He pressed Y/N roughly against the front door, his hands gripping the Omega’s wrists and pinning them above his head. His body loomed over Y/N’s, his voice a low growl that vibrated against Y/N’s ear.

“Do you know why I brought you here, baby?” Dick’s tone was a mixture of mockery and raw desire. “Because I want to remind you and someone else of who owns you now—who you belong to.”

Before Y/N could respond, Dick’s hand slid down to yank at the Omega’s clothing, tearing the fabric away in his haste. Y/N shivered, a mix of fear and unwanted arousal surging through him. The Alpha’s scent was thick and oppressive, making it hard to think, to focus on anything other than the heat of Dick’s body pressing against his own.

With one hand still pinning Y/N’s wrists, Dick used his other to fumble with his own pants, freeing his hard length. The desperation in his movements was palpable, driven by a primal need to assert his claim in the most degrading way possible. He aligned himself at Y/N’s entrance, his voice dripping with possessive lust as he taunted, “Let’s make sure Leo hears every fucking sound you make, sweetheart.”

Dick’s thrusts were brutal from the start, his pace unrelenting as he forced Y/N’s body against the door. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the small apartment, accompanied by Y/N’s unwilling moans and Dick’s deep, guttural grunts. Each thrust was a punishing reminder of the power imbalance between them, of the dominance Dick sought to enforce not just over Y/N’s body, but over his very soul.

“Make sure he hears you, baby,” Dick ordered again, his voice low and harsh. He drove into Y/N with renewed force, his hips slamming against the Omega’s ass, each thrust calculated to elicit the loudest possible reaction. “I want him to know exactly who’s inside you right now.”

The mixture of pleasure and humiliation tore at Y/N’s sanity. His walls clenched reflexively around Dick’s length, slick pooling beneath them as his body betrayed him. He hated the way his voice rose in a series of helpless cries, hated how his body arched back to meet Dick’s brutal thrusts, but the Alpha’s relentless rhythm and taunting words left him powerless.

“You like this, don’t you?” Dick growled, his voice laced with both anger and twisted satisfaction. “You love being fucked like this, knowing your old flame is on the other side of the door, listening to every moan, every scream.”

Y/N’s response was an incoherent mixture of sobs and gasps, his mind too clouded by sensation to form words. But his silence wasn’t enough for Dick, who wanted more—who needed more. He leaned in, his breath hot against Y/N’s ear as he whispered, “Tell him, baby. Tell Leo who you belong to.”

The words struck Y/N like a physical blow. He tried to resist, tried to bite down the humiliation, but Dick’s hand found his throat, squeezing just enough to make him gasp. “Say it,” Dick demanded, his voice dripping with possessive fury. “Or I’ll make you say it.”

“Y-you,” Y/N finally managed to choke out, his voice breaking with the effort. “I-I belong to you, Dick.”

A dark, triumphant grin spread across Dick’s face, his pace becoming even more punishing as he reveled in Y/N’s forced confession. “That’s right, baby,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of cruelty and satisfaction. “You belong to me. Not him. Never him.”

Dick’s eyes flashed with a sudden, darker fury. He paused just long enough to lean in close, his breath hot against Y/N’s ear as he hissed, “If you were actually trying, you’d be pregnant with my child by now.” The words dripped with cruel mockery, each syllable soaked in bitter resentment. “Maybe you just need a reminder of what happens when you disobey me, hmm? Maybe that’ll teach you not to break your promises.”

Dick’s thrusts became rougher, driven by a wave of possessive rage. “And knowing he’s out there, listening to me fuck you senseless… maybe that’ll finally make your body accept me,” he spat, his voice dripping with twisted satisfaction. His words weren’t just directed at Y/N—they were a deliberate, taunting jab at the Alpha waiting helplessly on the other side of the door.

“Did you ever leak for him like you do for me?” he sneered, his voice loud enough to ensure that every word carried beyond the walls. “Did you let him knot you, or did you save that privilege for me alone? Because you and I both know who really owns you, don’t we?”

The dark emphasis in his tone was unmistakable, each declaration a bold, deliberate statement of his claim over Y/N—a challenge meant to wound not just the Omega but the Alpha outside, forcing him to hear the brutal, carnal proof of Y/N’s submission.

“No, no, no, no,” Y/N sobbed, his body shuddering under the assault of Dick’s words and the punishing rhythm of his hips. Every vicious thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure and humiliation through him, his slick gushing between them, amplifying the lewd sounds of their bodies colliding.

“Good,” Dick growled, his voice dripping with sinister satisfaction. “Because you’re mine—every inch of you, inside and out. Only I get to breed you, fill you up until you’re swollen with my kid.” His hand tightened around Y/N’s throat, not cutting off his air completely but exerting just enough pressure to make him gasp. “You hear me? You’ll only have my knot, push out my children. Only me.”

As if to emphasize his claim, Dick angled his hips sharply, driving into Y/N’s prostate with brutal precision. The force of the thrust ripped a guttural scream from the Omega, his body convulsing with overstimulation. The wet squelch of his slick filled the air, mixing with Dick’s guttural groans, creating a cacophony of raw, primal lust that echoed off the apartment’s walls.

“Say it,” Dick demanded, his voice a low snarl. “Tell me you’re mine, that you’ll give me what I want.”

“I’m yours,” Y/N choked out, tears mingling with the sweat on his flushed cheeks. “I-I’ll give you everything, just… just stop.”

But there was no stopping. Dick’s final thrusts were wild and merciless, each one accompanied by a surge of possessive triumph. His knot began to swell, locking them together in a forced bond that marked his victory. Y/N’s body trembled uncontrollably, his own orgasm ripped from him as the Alpha’s knot throbbed and expanded, pushing his seed deep into Y/N’s depths. Slick and cum oozed down the Omega’s thighs, a messy testament to the sheer force of Dick’s claim.

“Fuck, yes,” Dick groaned, his voice raw with satisfaction. “You’re gonna look so fucking good pregnant, baby. I want everyone to see what’s mine—round with our child, dripping with my cum.”

With his knot fully seated, he bit down victoriously on Y/N’s shoulder, his teeth sinking deep into the sensitive flesh, a searing reminder of ownership that burned both physically and emotionally. “He’ll never have you,” Dick declared, his voice low and raw. “You’re mine, now and always.”

The words were as much a declaration as they were a threat—a dark promise of more to come, a twisted vow that hung heavy in the air long after the final echoes of their coupling faded.

It was now going into six months—six months since Y/N’s arrival at Wayne Manor. The constant battles for dominance, the brutal sexual encounters, and the psychological warfare had taken their toll. But Y/N’s resolve remained unbroken. Beneath the façade of compliance, he was carefully laying the groundwork for his escape, gathering allies and resources while subtly manipulating the tensions between Dick and the rest of the Bat-Family.

And with Bruce finally sensing the strain between his son and the Omega, he began to question whether Dick’s approach was truly effective. The cracks in their control were small but significant—moments of hesitation, shifts in focus, brief concessions that Y/N seized upon with all the desperation of a man drowning.

Y/N had started to sow doubts strategically. He knew Bruce respected order above all else, and he used that to plant seeds of uncertainty. During seemingly harmless conversations, Y/N let slip mentions of his “adjustment difficulties,” emphasizing how forced compliance was hindering any real bond between him and Dick. He portrayed himself as malleable—capable of genuine acceptance, but only if given the opportunity to heal.

It was subtle, careful work. Y/N knew he couldn’t afford any mistakes; one misstep could shatter everything. But as he watched Bruce’s stoic expression shift into contemplation during one of their tense discussions, Y/N felt a flicker of hope he hadn’t experienced in months.

At night, Y/N lay awake, replaying each step of his plan in his mind. He could see the path ahead with a clarity sharpened by months of suffering. He knew it wouldn’t be easy—Dick’s possessiveness had only grown more suffocating, his surveillance more intense. But the cracks were there, visible in the way Bruce hesitated before issuing orders, in the way Alfred’s cold disapproval softened into the barest hint of pity.

Soon, Y/N told himself, the word a silent promise. The Bat-Family’s fortress of dominance was beginning to crumble, and Y/N intended to be the force that brought it down.

He would escape. He would reclaim his freedom. And when he did, he would make sure the world knew the truth about the Wayne family's dark, twisted control.

But for now, Y/N remained patient—like a predator watching for the perfect moment to strike. Because the longer he played his role, the deeper he burrowed into the Bat-Family’s trust. And the deeper he got, the more power he would have when the time came to tear it all apart.

Y/N’s life at Wayne Manor had shifted in unexpected ways since the last doctor’s visit confirmed the ongoing rejection of Dick’s bond. Bruce, accepting the expert’s recommendation, realized they were going to need a more measured approach. The stark realization that aggressive dominance wasn’t working led to a change in strategy. And while Dick remained desperate to cement a bond, Bruce encouraged him to ease off—give Y/N space to “heal” emotionally. It wasn’t a gesture of kindness, but a calculated move to reset the strained dynamics and, hopefully, break down Y/N’s resistance.

And it was just the calculated move the Omega was patiently waiting for.

Gradually, Dick loosened his grip. Y/N was allowed to leave the manor as long as he had a chaperone—Bruce, one of Dick’s brothers, or Alfred. He could also return to his old job at Wayne Enterprises, a move intended to “normalize” his captivity under the guise of giving Y/N more autonomy.

His return to Wayne Enterprises marked his own calculated step forward in his plan. With Bruce's suggestion to allow Y/N more freedom in hopes that it would get him to start letting down his guard, he could start to see the small little cracks in the oppressive intensity that had defined his existence at Wayne Manor since he'd arrived. Yet Y/N knew better than to actually let his guard down. The Wayne family was still watching, and he had to move cautiously, maintaining a balance between compliance and covert rebellion.

Every morning, Y/N followed a well-rehearsed routine: waking up to Dick’s possessive embrace, enduring his aggressive attempts at bonding, and then donning the façade of a compliant Omega as he prepared for work. He exchanged curt nods with Bruce at the breakfast table, endured subtle yet protective gazes from Damian, and caught Tim observing him with clinical curiosity. Alfred remained watchful, a silent sentinel who noticed every detail, no matter how small.

As Y/N made his way to Wayne Enterprises each day, he carefully crafted his persona—a seemingly resigned Omega who had accepted his place in the family. It was an act designed to lull the Bat-Family into a false sense of security. The truth was far more sinister: Y/N was navigating a deadly game of deception, one that required every ounce of his cunning.

The familiar scent of coffee and corporate politics would greet Y/N every time he stepped into the building. He kept his demeanor casual, but his mind was constantly alert. His co-workers welcomed him back with a mix of curiosity and genuine warmth—though a few appeared overly interested in his apparently public relationship with Dick Grayson. Y/N wasn’t naive; he knew that among the seemingly harmless smiles and greetings were likely a few informants, keeping tabs on him for Bruce or Dick.

The cautiousness didn’t extend to everyone. Among those Y/N was genuinely happy to see was Wyndall. The Omega’s soft-spoken nature had always been a source of comfort amid the high-pressure environment of Wayne Enterprises. Wyndall had been one of Y/N’s closest friends before the fateful night when Y/N, as Shadow, had intervened to save him from Nightwing's scheme. Thinking back, it'd made sense why Dick chose to target Wyndall when setting his trap for him.

Wyndall was a kind, gentle soul, and Y/N knew he could trust him. Obviously, he couldn't just jump in and tell the Omega everything. He had to wait it out, knowing Dick and Bruce were keeping eyes on him. But, as one of Y/N's only friends in the company, their friendship is rooted in shared experiences as Omegas navigating the power dynamics of Wayne Enterprises, he knew he could trust Wyndall.

“It’s good to have you back,” Wyndall said during their first lunch together. His eyes reflected both warmth and worry. “This place just wasn’t the same without you. Too many stuffy Alphas trying to boss us around.”

Y/N forced a smile, masking the darker memories that Wyndall’s words unintentionally stirred. “Yeah, I missed the banter too. It’s been… a long six months.”

In the weeks that followed, Y/N fell back into a predictable routine at work. He was careful with his questions and subtle in his interactions, knowing that any misstep could raise suspicions. He made sure to blend into the background when necessary, never drawing too much attention. It was crucial that he appeared content—another cog in the Wayne Enterprises machine. Yet, beneath the surface, Y/N was working tirelessly, each day bringing him closer to freedom.

Y/N and Wyndall continued their interactions with the kind of ease that came from years of shared experiences, but there was an underlying tension to Y/N’s behavior—an anxious edge that Wyndall was quick to pick up on. Though their conversations seemed casual, Y/N’s eyes would constantly dart around, his voice lowering to hushed tones whenever the conversation veered toward sensitive topics.

“Are you okay?” Wyndall asked one afternoon as they sat in a quiet corner of the office cafeteria, concern etched across his face. He leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “You’ve been… different since you came back. Always on edge, like you’re expecting something bad to happen.”

Y/N hesitated, eyes darting around the bustling cafeteria. He knew he had to be careful—he couldn’t risk even a single misstep. The looming presence of Dick and Bruce was still very much a reality, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, even in this seemingly casual setting.

“It’s… complicated,” Y/N finally whispered, his voice barely audible. “There’s something I need to tell you. It’s important, and you’re the only person I can trust.”

Wyndall’s concern deepened, his voice gentle but insistent. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything.”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling the weight of what he was about to reveal. “Do you remember that night here at Wayne Tower? Last year, when you were cornered by Nightwing?”

Wyndall stiffened at the memory, a mix of fear and bitterness flashing across his face. “Yeah, I remember. I sent a distress signal, but the police thought I was just a hysterical Omega making up stories. No one followed up on it.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, a surge of anger rising in his chest. “I know they didn’t,” he said quietly. “Because I was there.”

Wyndall’s eyes widened, his confusion palpable. “What do you mean, you were there?”

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. “After you sent that distress signal, Shadow showed up to help you. He fought Nightwing off long enough for you to escape, but… you never saw what happened next, did you?”

“No,” Wyndall admitted, his expression growing more bewildered. “I just assumed Shadow got away. No one’s heard from him since then.”

Y/N’s gaze dropped to the table, his fingers fidgeting restlessly. “He didn’t get away, Wyndall. Nightwing caught him and delivered him straight to Batman.”

Wyndall’s face shifted from confusion to shock, his voice incredulous. “Wait, how do you know all of this? Did Shadow somehow get a message out?”

“No,” Y/N said, his voice low and pained. “I know because… I am Shadow.”

For a moment, Wyndall simply stared at him, his expression a mix of disbelief and astonishment. “What? But… how? Shadow was an Alpha. He fought Nightwing and held his own—”

“Because that’s what everyone assumed,” Y/N interjected, his voice urgent but steady. “Everyone believed Shadow had to be an Alpha because no one wanted to imagine that an Omega could stand a chance against someone like Nightwing without being one or even a Beta. But I’m telling you the truth, Wyndall. I am Shadow.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, and Wyndall’s eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape. “Why are you telling me this now?” he finally asked, his voice a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Y/N leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper but heavy with desperation. “Because I need someone I can trust, Wyndall. And right now, you’re one of the few who can help me.” He paused, taking a shaky breath. “Those vigilantes—Nightwing, Batman, Red Robin, Robin—all of them, they aren’t the heroes everyone thinks they are. They claim to protect everyone, Alphas, Betas, Omegas alike. But behind the mask, they’re just like the people we’ve had to fight against all our lives—using their power to control, to dominate, all in the name of the so-called ‘greater good.’ They see us Omegas as objects, as lesser beings meant to be used and owned.”

Wyndall’s eyes widened, a mix of shock and horror etched across his features. “I… I don’t understand. How could you know all of this?”

Y/N’s voice turned bitter, the words laced with the pain of everything he’d endured. “Because I’ve been their prisoner for the past seven months, Wyndall. That night, when Nightwing attacked you, it was all a setup to lure me in. He ambushed me, forced himself on me, and then dragged me straight to his ‘leader,’ Batman. They didn’t care about right or wrong—they just wanted to control me.”

The horror in Wyndall’s expression deepened, and Y/N pressed on, his words filled with raw emotion. “Batman forced me to join his little band of vigilantes, but that wasn’t even the worst part. He handed me over to Nightwing, made me his breeding stock, his Omega—forcing me into a role I never wanted. They used my biology against me, calling me a ‘liability,’ and made it clear that if I didn’t comply, I’d remain their captive indefinitely. I was stripped of everything—my freedom, my autonomy, my very identity—just so they could break me into the ‘doting husband’ Nightwing wanted.”

Wyndall’s face paled, his voice trembling with disbelief. “But… why would they do this? They’re supposed to be the protectors, the ones who fight for people like us.”

“They’re just as ruthless as the worst Alphas we’ve faced,” Y/N replied bitterly. “They justify their actions as ‘necessary’ for Gotham’s safety, but it’s all about power. They took everything from me, and now I need to take it back. I need your help to get away from them, Wyndall. I need to be free.”

Wyndall’s face was a storm of horror, shock, and overwhelming guilt. The hero who had once saved him—the Omega who had answered his call for help, risking everything—had been reduced to a prisoner, punished for simply wanting to protect others. Y/N’s revelation struck him deeply, each word a painful reminder of the countless Omegas Shadow had saved, only to become the one who needed saving most.

The fallout from Shadow’s disappearance had been swift and brutal. Without the Omega Savior patrolling the streets, crimes against Omegas surged. Alphas and Betas, unrestrained by fear of reprisal, resumed their abusive behaviors with a renewed sense of entitlement. Wyndall himself had narrowly escaped several attacks, each incident making him wonder where the vigilante who had once been their shield had gone.

Now, knowing the truth, anger burned within him—an anger fueled by betrayal. The same heroes Wyndall had once looked to for protection were nothing more than hypocrites, preying on the very people they claimed to protect. It was a story Wyndall knew all too well; he'd seen it before, but this? This was the breaking point. They had used him as bait to ensnare another Omega—his own friend.

But the family of vigilantes had miscalculated. They didn’t know that Wyndall had connections of his own. Many of those Y/N had saved had become allies and friends, loyal to the vigilante who had risked everything for them. One Alpha in particular—Leo—had been frantic over Y/N’s sudden disappearance, even more after an apparent incident at Y/N's apartment. When Wyndall told him the truth, Leo would be more than ready to act.

Wyndall’s eyes blazed with fierce resolve. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, his voice steady and filled with unwavering determination.

Tears stung Y/N’s eyes, seeing his friend's absolute support. He knew it wouldn't be easy, had witnessed how resourceful and and calculating the Dark Knight and his entourage of so-called heroes were. But, he could also feel that small spark of hope, a flame that was so tiny, but all he had to hold on to for the seven six months he was in that manor by himself, get just a bit bigger. It was a reminder that now, after so long being ioslated, he wasn’t fighting this battle alone anymore.

Tears pricked Y/N’s eyes, a mix of relief and gratitude overwhelming him. He hadn’t expected such unwavering support, even from Wyndall, and the weight of it settled heavily in his chest. Y/N had seen firsthand how calculating and ruthless Bruce and his so-called heroes could be. He knew escaping them would be no easy feat. But in this moment, he felt a small spark of hope—a spark that had kept him alive through the six agonizing months of captivity.

It wasn’t much, just a faint, flickering flame that had been his only source of light in the darkness. But now, that flame burned just a little brighter, fanned by the knowledge that he wasn’t alone anymore. For the first time since his capture, Y/N felt a surge of genuine hope.

Over the following weeks, Y/N's life at Wayne Enterprises fell into a careful rhythm. He balanced the act of appearing compliant with his covert plotting. Each morning, he endured the routine of waking up in Dick’s suffocating embrace, forced smiles and empty pleasantries with Bruce and the rest of the Bat-Family. At work, however, Y/N found a semblance of freedom—a familiar but cautious sense of normalcy.

Bruce seemed genuinely pleased to have Y/N back in the corporate fold, which worked to the Omega's advantage. One afternoon, Bruce invited Y/N to lunch under the guise of a business meeting. Y/N kept his face neutral as Bruce droned on about Wayne Enterprises' future and potential joint projects with the city’s police department, but internally, he was calculating how to extract more information that could aid his escape.

"I’m glad you’ve come back to us," Bruce said earnestly between bites of a gourmet salad. "I’ve always believed you were a good fit here, even before things... escalated. You’ve always had a strong sense of justice, Y/N. And I know that’s something Dick admires in you too.”

Y/N forced a small smile, hiding the unease that gnawed at him. He nodded politely. “I appreciate that, Mr. Wayne. I just want to make the best of things, you know?”

Bruce’s expression softened, and he leaned in conspiratorially. “You know, I’m very fond of you. You’re strong, resilient—an excellent match for my son. It’s not easy being part of this family, but you’re handling it well.”

Y/N felt a bitter laugh claw at the back of his throat but managed to keep it suppressed. “Thank you, Bruce,” he replied simply, knowing full well that pushing back or showing resistance would only complicate things further. He needed Bruce to believe in the facade he’d carefully constructed. Even if the billionaire was aware of his scheming which he wouldn't be surprised by, the smartest thing for him to do would be to continue the act. It'd gotten him this far.

After the lunch meeting, Y/N made his way back to his office, his mind already buzzing with plans. As he stepped inside, he found Wyndall waiting, holding a stack of documents that were mostly for show. Wyndall’s eyes held a flicker of excitement, a silent acknowledgment that their plans were advancing.

“Everything go okay with Bruce?” Wyndall asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Same as always,” Y/N said dryly, then added with a teasing smirk, “I noticed he’s been laying on the charm with you lately.”

Wyndall’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he rolled his eyes. “Please. The man flirts like it's part of his job description. But hey, if it keeps him distracted and off your back, I’m not complaining.”

Y/N chuckled, but his eyes were serious. “Keep playing along, Wyndall. The less he suspects, the better.”

As the weeks passed, Wyndall became Y/N’s lifeline, relaying coded messages to trusted contacts on the outside. Y/N’s old college friends, the ones who had helped him build his vigilante persona from scratch, were still well-connected and resourceful. They had provided Y/N with gear, information, and safe houses back when he was still able to operate freely. Now, Wyndall was reconnecting with them, subtly conveying Y/N’s situation and gauging their willingness to help.

“Good news,” Wyndall whispered one morning as they met in the break room under the guise of grabbing coffee. “I’ve reached out to Leo and some of your old allies. They’re all in. They’re ready to move as soon as you give the word.”

Y/N’s heart lifted, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel hopeful. “Thank you, Wyndall,” he murmured, his voice sincere. “I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

Wyndall shook his head, his voice equally quiet but firm. “No, Y/N. We owe you. You saved us all when no one else would. It’s our turn to save you.”

Despite the growing sense of hope, Y/N knew he couldn’t afford to get complacent. Every move had to be calculated, every interaction with the Waynes carefully managed. He continued to play the dutiful partner at Wayne Manor, enduring Dick’s increasingly desperate attempts to bond with him. Though the sex was no less aggressive or possessive, there was a desperation to it now—a frantic need to solidify a connection that simply wasn’t taking hold.

His obsession with impregnating Y/N persisted, though the physical intensity of his efforts varied. Despite Bruce’s suggestion to ease off, Dick remained fixated on the idea that a child would be the ultimate bond between them. He believed that Y/N's resistance could be overcome through sheer persistence and frequent sexual encounters.

His desperation was rooted in the unique nature of bonding itself. It’s not just a bite or a single act of marking; it’s a series of connected actions—intimacy, emotional vulnerability, and a deep mental connection that needs to be nurtured over time. Bonds that form willingly tend to be stronger and healthier, but forced bonds are often unstable, marked by volatility and strain. It is why mating bonds hold a higher status than legal marriages; the physical and psychological ramifications of breaking one can be devastating, even fatal, to one or both partners.

The theory that pregnancy could facilitate bonding has persisted for years, though it has never been definitively proven. Researchers have long speculated that a pregnancy between an Alpha and an Omega, or even a Beta and an Omega, could help solidify a bond—even in cases where one partner is unwilling or resisting. The rationale is that the hormonal and biological changes triggered by pregnancy may influence the subconscious bond between partners, making it more difficult to resist.

For Alphas like Dick, this theory isn’t merely speculative science—it’s a lifeline, a desperate bid for control. The idea that a child could finally cement the bond between him and Y/N has become an obsession, a relentless pursuit driven by his natural dominant Alpha nature, paired with his possessive attitude and fear of losing Y/N entirely. To Dick, a child isn’t just about family or legacy; it’s the ultimate means of tying Y/N to him permeanently, both physically and emotionally.

Despite Bruce’s insistence on a more measured approach, Dick continues his efforts to impregnate Y/N. The physical intensity of his encounters varies—sometimes brutal and aggressive, other times slow and almost pleading—but the end goal remains the same: breaking Y/N's resistance and establishing a bond that has so far eluded him.

For Y/N, each encounter is a twisted blend of rage and resignation. He knows exactly what Dick is trying to achieve, and while the physical invasion is brutal in itself, the deeper violation is the attempt to force a bond that could have devastating consequences for both of them—especially for the Omega.

The safest way to dissolve a bond is gradual separation, letting it fade over time. Abrupt breaks or disruptions, however, can be severe. Infidelity, abuse, emotional strain, or even minor conflicts can weaken a bond, causing mild depression, anxiety, and a lingering sense of emptiness. But with a stronger, more established bond, the fallout is far worse: severe trauma, debilitating illness, and, in extreme cases, even death.

This is Dick's ultimate goal and the reality Y/N faces—control through leverage. If he succeeds in cementing a bond, any chance of Y/N escaping the Waynes' grasp would be shattered. Y/N's resistance isn't merely about preserving his autonomy; it’s about protecting what little remains of his mind and spirit, still unbroken.

Every time Dick’s efforts fall short, it only fuels the Alpha’s resolve to try again, believing that persistence will eventually wear down Y/N's resistance. Dick’s actions are driven by more than just possessiveness—they're also fueled by a deep-seated fear. If he fails to bond with Y/N, he risks losing him entirely, and that’s something Dick is determined to avoid at all costs.

Even Bruce, as calculated as he is, understands the stakes. He knows that Dick’s obsession is not just about Y/N as an Omega; it’s about what Y/N represents to Dick—an unfulfilled desire, a sense of ownership that remains incomplete. Bruce’s suggestion to ease off on the intensity was not out of compassion, but strategy. He recognizes that forcing a bond could backfire, potentially breaking Y/N’s spirit beyond repair or even driving him to further rebellion.

But for now, Dick remains undeterred, holding onto the belief that Y/N’s body—if not his mind—will eventually submit. The desperate cycle continues, each encounter a brutal mix of possessive lust and forced intimacy, leaving Y/N with the bitter understanding that Dick will not stop until the bond is made, one way or another.

Whenever Y/N was at work, Dick would often show up unannounced, using the guise of a lunch date. But those visits, once casual, quickly escalated into increasingly aggressive displays of possession.

After one particularly disruptive incident, Bruce had to intervene. “Dick, you need to control yourself,” Bruce warned, his tone stern but not entirely unsympathetic. “Your behavior is affecting Y/N’s work—and the company’s reputation.”

Dick’s response was defiant. “I’m just trying to solidify our bond, Bruce. You of all people should understand that.”

But even Bruce’s reprimands couldn’t completely curb Dick’s obsessive behavior. He found ways to maintain his hold over Y/N, even outside of work.

One night, Dick’s patrol had taken an unexpected detour. With the city quiet and most of Gotham’s rogues either hiding or licking their wounds, there was more than enough time for him to indulge his carnal desires. It was the perfect opportunity to take Y/N for a spin—both literally and figuratively. As Nightwing, he often let his impulses run wild, and this night was no different.

The Batmobile’s interior was dimly lit, the blue glow of its dashboard casting dark shadows over Nightwing’s form. His muscular frame, clad in the iconic black and blue suit, exuded raw power. The sleek, black leather hugged every inch of him, making his presence even more intimidating, yet undeniably alluring. His signature bird emblem gleamed against the dim light, and his grin was nothing short of devilish.

Y/N was thrown onto his lap the moment the autopilot was engaged, forced to straddle the Alpha in the cramped vehicle. “Let’s see how fast we can go while you ride me,” Nightwing taunted, his voice deep and filled with lust, the heat of his breath fanning Y/N’s cheek. It was a dangerous game, but one that had become all too familiar between them.

Y/N's body tensed instinctively, trying to maintain the last fragments of resistance. “You’re insane,” he managed to whisper, but his tone lacked conviction. His Omega instincts were betraying him, responding to the heat and the primal energy radiating from Nightwing.

“I might be,” Dick admitted with a smirk, his hands already moving to slide up Y/N’s thighs, feeling the taut muscles beneath. “But you love it, don’t you?” He continued his teasing touches, rough hands squeezing the Omega’s hips possessively before pushing up Y/N’s shirt, exposing his chest.

Y/N shivered at the contact, torn between defiance and the undeniable pull of his biological instincts. His body betrayed him, slick starting to pool beneath him, dampening the fabric of his pants. It was humiliating to be so responsive, but it was the truth—his Omega nature couldn’t resist the call of a dominant Alpha, especially one who wielded power so effortlessly.

Dick noticed immediately, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips. “See? I knew you couldn’t help yourself. You were made for this, Y/N.” He shifted his hips upwards, grinding against Y/N’s entrance, the bulge in his suit pressing insistently. “You can try to fight it, but we both know who’s in control here.”

Y/N tried to maintain his composure, his breathing shallow and erratic. He could feel the hard press of Dick’s arousal against him, the thick heat promising both pleasure and domination. The confined space of the Batmobile only added to the intensity, making it feel as if there was nowhere to escape—even if he wanted to.

“Remember the first time we were here?” Dick whispered into Y/N’s ear, his voice dripping with sinful nostalgia. “You were so stubborn then, trying to push me away even as your body begged for more. I told you then that I’d make you mine, and look where we are now.” He nipped at Y/N’s earlobe before tracing a line down his neck, the touch both possessive and tender.

Y/N whimpered, torn between pushing Dick away and giving in to the overwhelming desire. His slick was embarrassingly copious now, dripping down his thighs, betraying his internal struggle. Dick’s touch was rough, his fingers sliding into the wet heat with a confidence that spoke of ownership.

“Feel how wet you are?” Dick taunted, pumping his fingers inside Y/N with slow, deliberate strokes. “All for me. You’re practically begging to be fucked.” His voice was thick with lust, his blue eyes gleaming behind the black mask as he watched Y/N’s face contort with conflicting emotions.

Y/N’s head fell back against the cool glass of the Batmobile’s window, his body trembling as Dick’s fingers played him like an instrument. He hated how good it felt, how his Omega instincts urged him to submit completely, to let the Alpha take control. The shame was there, but it was drowned out by the flood of arousal that Dick had expertly drawn from him.

“Say it,” Dick whispered harshly, his lips brushing against Y/N’s ear. “Admit that you want it.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, his voice barely audible as he struggled to find words. “I… I hate you,” he choked out, his tone laced with both anger and reluctant desire.

Dick’s grin widened, his fingers thrusting harder in response. “I can work with that,” he said with dark amusement. “But I want more than just your hate. I want you to admit that you want this—that you need it.” He leaned back, his free hand moving to undo his own zipper, releasing the long, throbbing length that had been straining against his suit.

Y/N’s eyes widened, the sight of the Alpha’s cock sending a fresh wave of arousal through him. What he lacked in girth, he made up for in length, the tip already glistening with precum—a sight he had become shamefully accustomed to. “No,” he managed to whisper, shaking his head weakly. But his body betrayed him, shifting forward involuntarily, driven by instinct.

“Yes,” Dick insisted, his voice low and commanding. He positioned Y/N over his lap, the head of his cock pressing insistently against the Omega’s dripping entrance. “Say it, Y/N. Admit I'm your Alpha.”

Tears of frustration welled up in Y/N’s eyes, his body shaking with need and defiance. But the pressure was too much, the thick heat of Dick’s cock against his opening breaking down the last of his resistance. “You… You're my Alpha,” he finally confessed, his voice a mix of desperation and surrender.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Dick growled, and with a sharp thrust, he buried himself inside Y/N, filling him completely. The Omega cried out, his body arching as he felt the throbbing tool plunge deep into his depths, stretching him open. It was both painful and satisfying, a reminder of the power dynamic that defined their twisted relationship.

Dick’s hands gripped Y/N’s hips, guiding him into a punishing rhythm. “Ride me, baby,” he ordered, his voice rough with pleasure. “Let’s see just how fast we can go.”

Y/N’s body moved on instinct, hips grinding down as he adjusted to the fullness inside him. The car’s interior was filled with the obscene sounds of their coupling—the wet slap of skin against skin, the creak of leather, and the muffled groans that escaped Y/N’s lips.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Dick grunted, his hands digging into Y/N’s hips as he thrust upwards, meeting the Omega’s movements with brutal force. He was relentless, his pace quickening as they chased their shared release. “You were made for this, Y/N. Made to take my cock, to be filled by me.”

Y/N’s mind was a haze of pleasure and shame, the desperate need to climax overtaking any rational thought. He hated how much he craved the Alpha’s touch, but in this moment, he was helpless to resist. “F-Fuck,” he stuttered, his voice breaking as he felt the familiar tightening in his passage.

Dick’s grip tightened, his thrusts growing more erratic as he neared his own release. “That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, his voice hoarse. “Cum for me. Show me how much you love being fucked by your Alpha.”

With a final, shuddering moan, Y/N’s body gave in, his climax crashing over him in waves. His slick gushed around Dick’s cock, the wet heat driving the Alpha over the edge. Dick buried himself deep inside, his knot swelling as he filled Y/N with his seed.

For a moment, they were both still, their heavy breathing the only sound in the car. The bond they both sought to forge and resist hung thick in the air, a reminder of the twisted connection that kept them tethered.

“Filthy Omega,” Dick whispered harshly against Y/N’s ear, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “Look at the mess you made. Slicked all over my cock like a needy slut.” The Alpha’s words were a twisted mix of degradation and praise, sending a new wave of heat rushing through Y/N’s trembling body. The confined space of the Batmobile only seemed to amplify the raw, primal energy between them.

Dick’s hands gripped Y/N’s hips with a bruising force as he pulled out, letting his spent cock slip free with a wet sound. Y/N’s thighs quivered, slick and cum dripping down his skin, creating an obscene trail of fluids that smeared over the dark leather of the center console. The Omega’s breath came in ragged gasps, the lingering pleasure of his climax mingling with a deep, humiliating shame.

“But don’t worry,” Dick continued, his voice low and possessive, lips brushing against the shell of Y/N’s ear. “I’ll clean you up. Just like I always do.” There was a sinister tenderness in his tone, as if he relished the contrast between his rough dominance and the twisted care he took afterward.

Before Y/N could fully comprehend what was happening, Dick roughly lifted him off his lap, flipping him over the center console with practiced ease. Y/N’s face pressed into the cool leather of the passenger seat, his ass raised high in the air while own his aching, leaking Omega penis was trapped awkwardly against the console. The position was utterly degrading, a blatant reminder of his vulnerability and the absolute control the Alpha held over him.

“Stay right there,” Dick ordered, his grip firm as he held Y/N’s thighs apart, exposing the slick, swollen flesh still glistening with his cum. There was no mercy in his touch, only a possessive hunger that burned in his eyes as he took in the sight of the Omega’s dripping hole.

Y/N’s instinct was to close his legs, to hide himself from the Alpha’s ravenous gaze, but Dick’s hands kept him spread open, fingers digging into the soft flesh with bruising intent. “You taste so good, baby,” he murmured, the anticipation thick in his voice.

And then, without any warning, Dick’s mouth was on him.

The first swipe of the Alpha’s tongue was hot and wet, lapping hungrily at the slick-smeared grooves. Y/N’s body jolted, a shocked gasp escaping his lips as the sensation rippled through him. He tried to squirm away from the overwhelming contact, his instincts telling him to flee, but Dick’s hands were relentless, holding him in place with a force that made it clear there was no escape.

“Stay still,” Dick commanded, his voice a guttural growl as his tongue delved deeper, greedily tasting the mix of their fluids. The sound of his mouth working over Y/N’s sensitive flesh was lewd and messy, echoing obscenely within the confines of the Batmobile’s soundproof interior.

Y/N’s entire body trembled, every nerve ignited by the Alpha’s relentless assault. The shame of being spread and licked clean like this was almost unbearable, yet the sensation itself was maddeningly good. His mind screamed at him to resist, but his Omega instincts betrayed him, sending pulses of pleasure through his overstimulated core.

“Look at you,” Dick mocked between rough licks, his breath hot against Y/N’s slickened skin. “Still so sensitive… still leaking for me.” His voice was a mix of cruelty and dark amusement, each word punctuated by another obscene slurp. “You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to be fucked, bred, and tasted by your Alpha.”

Y/N’s thighs quivered uncontrollably, his breath hitching with each swipe of Dick’s tongue. He tried to press his hips forward, seeking some kind of relief from the intensity, but Dick’s strong grip kept him pinned firmly in place. The Alpha’s mouth was merciless, alternating between long, languid licks and sharp, teasing nips that sent jolts of pleasure-pain through Y/N’s body.

Tears pricked at Y/N’s eyes, a mix of humiliation and desperate arousal welling up inside him. He hated how much his body responded to this, how his instincts pushed him to arch further, to present himself even more to the Alpha’s insatiable mouth. “P-please,” he finally managed to whisper, his voice barely audible and thick with shame.

“Please, what?” Dick mocked, his voice muffled as his tongue continued its sinful exploration. “Please stop? Or please keep going?” He pulled back just enough to let the words hang in the air, the wet, slick sounds of his mouth pausing for a moment.

Y/N squeezed his eyes shut, the shame of the situation overwhelming. “Please…” he choked out, not even sure what he was begging for anymore.

Dick’s laughter was low and satisfied, a dark rumble that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. “Good Omega,” he murmured approvingly, before diving back in with renewed vigor. His tongue pressed deep, swirling around Y/N’s entrance, tasting every last drop of slick and cum that still clung to the Omega’s abused hole.

The rest of the patrol was spent with Dick’s tongue buried deep inside Y/N, licking and tasting until he was satisfied. The Omega’s cries were silenced by the Batmobile’s soundproof casing, the outside world blissfully unaware of the depravity taking place within Gotham’s iconic vehicle.

And when it was finally over, Y/N was left trembling and spent, the lingering taste of shame and reluctant pleasure still heavy on his tongue.

It wasn’t just confined to work or the Batmobile. About a month after the apartment incident, Dick fell into another rut—a state that left Y/N bracing for days of relentless, obsessive attention. And the Alpha did not disappoint.

The first night, there was no pretense of gentleness or affection. The moment Dick caught Y/N’s scent, his eyes darkened with raw, desperate hunger. He didn’t waste time with words or coaxing; instead, he moved with urgency, his hands roughly grabbing Y/N’s arms and pinning him against the nearest wall. The Omega struggled instinctively, trying to twist away from the Alpha’s iron grip, but it was useless.

“You know exactly what’s coming,” Dick growled, his voice hoarse and rough, thick with desire and frustration. “No fighting it.”

Before Y/N could even attempt to pull free, Dick lifted him off the ground with frightening ease, throwing him over his broad shoulder. The familiar feeling of being draped over Dick’s muscular frame sent a mix of anger, humiliation, and an involuntary thrill through Y/N’s body. His legs dangled uselessly, and his vision tilted as he was carried down the hall like nothing more than a prize to be claimed.

“Sooner or later, this bond is going to take,” Dick murmured, his voice a mix of satisfaction and lingering frustration. “And once it does, you’ll finally be mine.”

The sessions were grueling. Each attempt at conceiving and bonding left Y/N’s body sore and leaking with slick and cum. But despite Dick’s persistence, Y/N’s body continued to reject the bond. The psychological strain, however, was beginning to show. Every time a bite faded and every time knotting knotting that failed in resulting in pregnancy, the Alpha’s frustration became more evident.

“You promised me,” Dick murmured darkly one night, his sweaty, muscular body pressed against the Omega's as his hand possessively stroked his abdomen. “We’ll have a family. I’ll find a way to make it happen.”

Y/N’s only response was a silent, simmering hatred masked behind feigned exhaustion.

Sensing Dick’s growing frustration, the Wayne family attempted to step in. Concerned by the mounting tension, Bruce called the doctor once more, seeking answers to Y/N’s continued resistance. The doctor’s explanation remained unchanged: Y/N’s body was actively rejecting both the bond and Dick’s sperm, a direct result of severe psychological trauma that had created a physiological barrier. It was a rare but documented occurrence, particularly among male Omegas, who were not only the most vulnerable in societal dynamics but also among the most coveted and frequently subjected to forced bonding attempts.

The news struck Dick hard. His confidence, usually unwavering, began to crack. Y/N, however, saw it as an opportunity. The more desperate Dick became, the more vulnerable his family’s control grew.

Despite the emotional toll of Dick’s rut, Y/N continued his secret alliance-building at Wayne Enterprises. His interactions with Wyndall became more strategic, filled with coded messages and clandestine planning. The growing network of Omegas—many of whom were eager to support Shadow—provided a sense of hope, albeit a fragile one.

Y/N’s initial assessment of the Bat-Family, made during his first few weeks at Wayne Manor, had been thorough but cautious. He’d known from the start that escaping would require understanding not just the physical layout of the manor, but also the dynamics and individual traits of its inhabitants. The Waynes weren’t merely skilled fighters; they were highly trained vigilantes, each with a distinct approach to strategy and conflict. It made them formidable as a unit—and unpredictable as individuals.

Despite the varying levels of threat each member posed, Y/N had found ways to navigate their behaviors and interactions. It wasn’t about defeating them outright; it was about identifying who could be manipulated, distracted, or potentially turned against one another.

Damian, for example, was observant but impulsive. His youthful arrogance and quick temper often led him to act before thinking, making him a potential loose cannon. Y/N knew that if it came down to it, he could exploit Damian’s need for validation and his rash tendencies, possibly leading the youngest Wayne into a trap of his own making.

Tim, on the other hand, was far more methodical. The former Red Robin had an analytical mind and an impressive ability to piece together puzzles, making him a significant threat to Y/N’s plans. Y/N would need to be especially cautious around him, careful not to leave any traceable patterns or inconsistencies that Tim could latch onto. Tim’s tendency to overthink was both a strength and a weakness, and Y/N planned to use that to his advantage—feeding him conflicting information that would hopefully slow down any investigations.

Jason, meanwhile, presented a different kind of risk. Unlike his brothers, Jason was less interested in subtlety and more inclined toward direct confrontation. His approach was aggressive, even ruthless, which could be both an advantage and a danger to Y/N. If Y/N could find a way to manipulate Jason’s anger—perhaps by playing into his ongoing tensions with Bruce—he could turn Red Hood’s unpredictable nature into a useful diversion. But it was a risky move, one that would have to be executed perfectly to avoid immediate, violent repercussions.

Bruce himself was a more complex adversary. As both Batman and the head of the Wayne family, he was the lynchpin of their entire operation. Bruce’s reputation as the world’s greatest detective wasn’t merely a title; it was a proven reality. He had an uncanny ability to see through deceptions and understand the motivations of those around him. However, Y/N had noticed one critical factor: Bruce’s loyalty to his sons often clouded his judgment. Y/N realized that Bruce’s greatest weakness was his desire to maintain the family’s unity and ensure his children’s happiness, particularly Dick’s. This vulnerability could be exploited—albeit carefully. It was likely the only reason Bruce had agreed to allow Y/N to return to Wayne Enterprises and to have some semblance of freedom.

Despite Bruce's reputation as the ultimate tactician and the "World's Greatest Detective," Y/N’s real adversary wasn’t the Batman. It was the unassuming figure who, for decades, had stood silently at Bruce’s side, managing the household and, in many ways, the family itself: Alfred Pennyworth.

Alfred was a master of observation, capable of picking up on even the smallest discrepancies in behavior or routine. Y/N had quickly realized that the butler’s quiet presence wasn’t merely a sign of deference; it was a strategic position that allowed him to monitor every aspect of the manor and its inhabitants. Where Bruce’s vigilance was focused outward, constantly searching for threats to Gotham, Alfred’s was internal, designed to maintain control over the household’s dynamics and detect any signs of rebellion or dissent.

Still, Alfred’s vigilance remained a constant threat. The butler’s piercing gaze and unyielding loyalty to the Waynes forced Y/N to tread carefully. Every move, every interaction was carefully calculated to avoid arousing Alfred’s suspicions.

Though, during one late-night conversation, Alfred confronted Y/N directly. “You’re a clever one, aren’t you, Master Y/N? I imagine you’ve considered all the possible outcomes of your situation.”

Y/N met his gaze evenly, refusing to flinch. “I’m just trying to make the best of what I have, Alfred. Isn’t that what we all do?”

The butler’s expression was unreadable, but his words were clear. “Just remember, some battles are won not with cunning, but with endurance. This family is not easily bested.”

If the Bat-Family were a fortress, Alfred was its foundation—unshakable, impenetrable, and always aware.

Y/N had been somewhat prepared for the challenges presented by the Waynes. He’d expected Bruce’s overprotectiveness, Dick’s possessiveness, and even Damian’s unpredictability. What he hadn’t fully anticipated was the sheer extent of Alfred’s influence. The butler wasn’t just a servant; he was the glue that held the family together, the one who managed both their personal lives and their vigilante endeavors with meticulous precision.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to realize that if anyone could see through his carefully constructed facade, it was Alfred.

The butler’s scrutiny was constant, though never overt. He never interrogated Y/N directly, nor did he engage in overt displays of power. Instead, Alfred’s approach was subtle—an innocuous question here, a knowing glance there. It was as if the butler had a sixth sense for deception, able to detect the faintest hint of dishonesty in the air.

Alfred’s presence was pervasive, almost omnipresent. No matter where Y/N was in the manor, Alfred always seemed to be nearby—whether it was delivering a well-timed cup of tea, silently observing from a doorway, or appearing suddenly to provide a neatly folded towel when Y/N returned from a shower. Y/N had once joked to himself that Alfred could probably hear a pin drop from three floors away.

He wasn’t wrong.

It was the incident with the break-in that solidified Alfred’s position as Y/N’s most formidable opponent. Y/N had been in his room, scribbling notes in a coded shorthand he’d developed to document the mansion’s security layout and defenses. The sound of shattering glass downstairs had immediately put him on edge. He was about to investigate when his designated phone rang, Alfred’s voice calm and authoritative on the other end.

“Master Y/N, please remain in your room and lock the door. Master Dick insists.”

Y/N had considered ignoring the instruction, but his curiosity got the better of him. He made his way downstairs, staying low and quiet, only to witness Alfred dispatching one of the intruders with surprising efficiency. The old man’s movements were precise and practiced, each strike deliberate and effective. The sight was both impressive and unnerving, a stark reminder that Alfred wasn’t merely a caretaker—he was a trained operative, one who had likely seen and done far more than most of Gotham’s criminals.

But the true revelation came when Y/N spotted the second intruder sneaking up behind him. Before the guy could strike, Alfred was there, intercepting the attacker with a level of skill that bordered on lethal. The quick takedown was both brutal and controlled, a clear demonstration of the butler’s combat prowess.

It was at that moment that Y/N understood the full extent of Alfred’s capabilities. The butler wasn’t just aware of Y/N’s movements—he was actively countering them, anticipating potential threats before they could fully manifest. If Y/N was going to succeed in his escape, he would need to be more cunning than ever before. Alfred would be the one who could unravel his plans before they even began, the silent force that could keep Y/N trapped indefinitely.

“So...Alfred is the real boss around here,” Y/N muttered to himself one night, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness of his room. It wasn’t an exaggeration. The butler was the linchpin, the one person Y/N would have to outmaneuver to gain his freedom.

As Y/N continued to build his network of allies at Wayne Enterprises, he remained hyper-aware of Alfred’s constant surveillance. Each interaction, every coded message to Wyndall or whispered conversation with a trusted colleague, had to be meticulously planned and executed. There was no room for error. One misstep, one poorly timed message, and Alfred would undoubtedly be there, ready to intervene.

The looming presence of the butler was both a challenge and a motivator. If Y/N could manage to deceive Alfred, he could deceive anyone. It was the ultimate test of his cunning and resolve—a psychological chess game where a single wrong move could cost him everything.

“Don’t think I’ve lost sight of your true intentions, Master Y/N,” Alfred said one morning, catching Y/N’s gaze in a moment of startling clarity.

Y/N’s heart raced, but he managed a small, defiant smile. “You’d be a fool to think I’m not planning something, Alfred.”

The butler’s eyes narrowed, but there was a hint of respect behind the suspicion. “Just remember, Master Y/N—escaping may not be the hardest part. Surviving the aftermath will be.”

He would escape and he would survive. Alfred Pennyworth might be the final boss, but Y/N was prepared to play the long game—one calculated move at a time.

This story concludes on Archive of Our Own...

☀️ | Dick Grayson/Nightwing | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

🌗 | Nightwing & Shadow | 🌗 (this image was generated by Bing AI)

408 notes · View notes