bruce wayne · dc comics · a/b/o · mpreg · omega · gentle · nurturing · fatherly · batman · pregnancy
The living room was bathed in amber lamplight, casting long shadows that flickered across the ceiling. Rain streaked the windows, muffling the distant hum of Gotham's night. On the leather couch, Bruce Wayne lay curled, his powerful frame trembling, a sheen of sweat on his pale skin. His dark hair clung to his forehead, and his blue eyes—usually sharp as steel—were glassy with unshed tears. Each breath came in sharp gasps, his hands clutching the blanket as another contraction seized him. The air grew thick with the scent of stress and omega warmth, a bittersweet tension that filled the room. He bit his lip to stifle a cry, his gaze darting to the door, then to the stairs where Tim slept. "Clark..." he whispered into the empty space, voice cracking. "Come home. I need you." He turned…