Run (Alpha Damian x Omega Reader)
Summary: You ran away from your alpha, years later he and his family tracked you down.
You despised the galas that Bruce would incessantly throw, primarily because of the other Omegas in attendance. They were nothing more than spoiled brats from wealthy backgrounds. In contrast, you hailed from a low-class family and had to fight tooth and nail to rise to the top. Eventually, you managed to secure a job at Wayne Industries, where you crossed paths with Damian Wayne. What intrigued you about him was his scent, a rarity since you rarely found yourself drawn to the scents of other Alphas, save for your dam and your older sister, who was also an Alpha.
Damian stood apart from the rest, as he seemed disinterested in the typical Alpha behavior of seeking out a harem of omegas.
You didn't actively pursue him, but to your surprise, he took the initiative and asked you out on a date. Initially, you almost canceled because you lacked a suitable fancy dress. However, Damian came through and sent you a dress and heels to wear. The two of you hit it off, leading to him asking you out again. This time, you had a wonderful time together. Love blossomed between you, and soon enough, Damian's rut coincided with your heat.
You decided to spend this intimate time at your place since Damian preferred not to be around his brothers and father during his rut, fearing he might go feral. That's how the two of you officially became a couple. In the beginning, Damian was sweet, treating you with gentleness, care, and respect. He showered you with attention, making you feel special and safe. He seemed to have a deep understanding of you. However, over time, he grew distant, concealing your mating mark in public and distancing himself from you. Your inner omega blamed itself, leading you to make the difficult decision to leave.
You concocted a plan to convince Damian that you were unwell. Convincing Alfred proved to be challenging, so you simply informed him that you were going through a rough week and desired some solitude. With Alfred being an omega himself, he understood your need for privacy and even aided in making it appear as though you were coming down with a cold. And now, you found yourself packing your belongings into a bag, including essential clothing, toiletries, scent blockers, enough food for several days, your cellphone, and laptop for communication with work (having transitioned to freelancing), a small first-aid kit for minor injuries, and a few books for entertainment during your journey. You had meticulously planned everything and were ready to go.
"Omega," Damian's voice called out, causing you to freeze. You mentally cursed yourself, and he approached, peering into your bag. "Are we going somewhere?" he asked, though the look on your face made him rephrase his question. "You're going somewhere," he stated, this time without a hint of uncertainty. You desperately searched for a way to lie or at least avoid getting into trouble.
"Something came up with my sister," you replied, avoiding his gaze, although his mesmerizing green eyes captivated you. Damian raised an eyebrow and remarked, "And you faked being sick just to visit your sister?" Your heart raced as you tried to think of a response. You knew you had to come up with something soon. Taking a deep breath, you attempted to explain.
"Yes, I needed to see her. She hasn't been doing well lately," you quickly added, "I just wanted to make sure she was alright." Damian regarded you with a suspicious expression, and you could tell he wasn't entirely convinced.
He nodded slowly and said, "Alright." Damian walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Sighing, you glanced out the window, feeling a sense of relief. You knew Damian would keep an eye on you. You slung your bag over your shoulder, opened the window, and cursed silently. Why did Damian have to choose a bedroom on the third floor? Fortunately, the presence of vines provided a stroke of luck. You grabbed onto them and climbed down.You fled the Wayne property, having purchased a one-way ticket to Gotham months before, before you had met Damian.
You applied scent blockers before boarding the plane. Your laptop was turned off, and your phone was set to airplane mode.Years passed, and you built a new life for yourself. Adopting an alias in your freelancing work, you altered your appearance slightly. While you didn't have a new mate, you lived with your beta cousin, who willingly helped conceal your omega scent. Despite occasional bouts of loneliness, you found contentment in your new existence. That is, until the day you unexpectedly encountered someone you never thought you would see again—Tim Drake.
You pretended not to notice him, grateful for the scarf you had borrowed from your cousin. By a strange twist of fate, you ended up in the same grocery line. Tim attempted to engage in small talk, questioning how you had been, why you left without a word, and urging you to call Damian as he had been searching for you. Feeling a surge of anxiety, you swiftly made your escape, driving a few blocks away before abandoning the car to avoid any potential tracking. With groceries in hand, you approached your cousin's home, only to be confronted by a startling sight—Red Hood and Damian holding your cousin at gunpoint.
To be continued...
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The more I think about it, the more hilarious it is to me for MAWS Clark Kent to potentially run into Bruce Wayne.
Clark's Superman career is literally just starting, and if we're going by the general wishy-washy timeline that DC comics give us, that means Bruce has at least one year as Batman under his belt.
You got adorable babygirl Clark Kent out here trying to discover who he is while also struggling to juggle his personal life with the weight of responsibility he feels towards his powers. He's dipping his pinky toe into the massive ocean of absolute craziness that comes with being a superhero.
Fuck, he hasn't even met Lex Luthor yet, y'all.
Meanwhile, a few states away, you got Bruce leaning full hard into his "I am Vengeance. I am the Night" schtick. This motherfucker just got back from his batshit insane training world tour and Alfred is probably just happy that his son ward is at least coming home every night. Nevermind that he spends all of his time pouring over grainy video footage and case files while blasting his underground bunker with Nirvana's greatest hits. It's the small things.
I'm just asking y'all to picture this with me: Year One Batman running into Barely A Week Old Superman.
Bruce would eat Clark fucking alive.
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Sub Matt is to live for
sub!matt is just the sweetest <3 always aiming to please and be good for his partner whenever he gets into that headspace
“you’re so good, matthew.”
you could see him preen at that, eyes fluttering shut as his lips and tongue worked overtime on your dripping cunt. he nuzzled himself between your thighs, feeling absolutely euphoric at the feeling of plush, velvet smooth skin enveloping him whole. he felt safe. you were his safe place.
“fuck, just like that, pretty boy,” your back arched as two corse hands pulled your thighs impossibly closer. god, there was nothing better than the feeling of the stubble lining his jaw rubbing at your skin and the vibrations occasionally wracking through your lower half as he moaned at your taste. matthew had always said there was nothing better than the taste of you, something so sweet and one of a kind, and absolutely all his.
as your fingers carded through his hair, tugging and pulling as the unruly, disheveled mess atop his pretty head, your moans began to grow higher in pitch and much more breathy. every touch from his lips and tongue sent your body into overdrive, and it was all too much yet not enough. it could never be enough, not when it was him.
as mindless praises fell through your lips, filling up an otherwise quiet room, you could feel him pawing at your thighs, blunt nails dragging across delicate skin. it was more than evident he was enjoying this as much as you were, perhaps even more so.
with a little more encouragement, you came. hard. shudders wracked your body and you gasped wantonly, jaw gone slack and eyes rolled back. even then, matthew didn’t let up. how could he when you sang praises so sweetly and emitted something akin to nectar honey?
“good boy.”
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