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diamond-rozie · 1 year ago

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I actually thought of this prompt like forever ago and i rly wanted to write a whole story for it but i couldn't think of a plot that would stick to it and make sense without adding too many outside elements and in my opinion over saturating the story. BUT i do have a bunch of scenes of danny and damian in my head about this also also some danny and other batfam members.

So anyways your order has been delivered...

original prompt: Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program

scene two: tim's arch nemesis

table of contents

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scene 01: damian's not-so-very-bad day

“Father, you wanted to speak with me.” Damian said, trugging into his Father’s study late into the afternoon per Pennyworth’s behest.

Father looked up from his work at Damian’s arrival, Drake gave him a look of annoyance that Damian returned with a sneer. “Damian.” Father greeted as he reached Father’s work station. “I spoke with your principal earlier today.” Damian huffed and crossed his arms in defiance at whatever accusation he was about to be handed, “Put your frown away, you're not in trouble.” Father chuckled lightly.

Damian frowned. He was not a child, he did not need to be treated like one.

“There’s a mentorship program at your school.” Father started, Damian raised an intrigued brow at him.

Perhaps Father had succeeded in seeing his potential, “Well I suppose I wouldn’t mind mentoring one of the many underlings at the so-called academy.” Damian sighed, letting his arms fall to his side, as he looked up at his Father.

Father blinked at him, processing what he had said, then glanced at Drake who looked like a fraying rope length away from bursting into laughter. “The mentorship program… it’s for you.” Father tried hesitantly.

“Yes.” Damian nodded in understanding.

There was an uncomfortable silence from Father.

“He means that you're the one getting mentored.” Drake laughed at him, shoulders shaking.

Damian turned to Father. But the denial never came. “What!” Damian couldn’t help scream in outrage. “You want me to get mentored by some hillbilly civilian who can't tell a katana from a wakizashi?” He slammed his hands on Father’s table.

Father looked at him with disapproval, but said nothing, not caring enough to discipline Damian.

“Hillbilly civilian.” Drake croaked from the corner of the room, draping himself dramatically over one of the side sofas.

“You’re to meet him first thing tomorrow when you get to school. Here’s his student profile, if you're interested.” Father handed him a singular paper.

“Father I do not need-”

“It’s already been arranged Damian, atleast give it a try.” Father said with a sigh, picking up his files again in a silent dismissal of Damian.

The paper crumpled slightly as Damian stormed to his room.

Daniel James Fenton.

“Let’s see how long you last.” Damian eyed the picture of the smiling teen.

---

“Have a good day at school Masters Tim, Thomas, and Damian.” Pennyworth bid, as they all got out of the car.

“Later, Alfred.” Thomas waved at the butler as he drove off.

They all walked in the same direction to enter their classrooms, when Drake stopped him in his path. “Ohoho, and where do you think you’re going Damian?” he asked cheekily.

“Tsk.” He was hoping to be able to make it to his class before the others noticed, then continue to evade the principal and other faculty if need be required. To be foiled so early into his plan, furthermore by Drake, was humiliating.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the principal’s office?” Drake continued to smother his victory over Damian.

“I was just on my way.” He huffed, turning around annoyed. Drake and Thomas snickered as he retreated.

Damian knocked on the familiar oak doors. “Come in.” Mr. Carson called from the other side. Damian entered, and plopped down on the same chair he sat in every time he had been sent here. “Ah Damian. Goodmorning.” He waited for a reply, but when he realized he wouldn’t be getting one he continued on, “Mr. Fenton should be here any minute, but I’m glad you were able to come here on your own accord.” Mr. Carson talked as he hung up his jacket and took a seat at his chair.

Damian could only watch the seconds tick by as he sat in that office. He wondered absentmindedly if Fenton didn’t show up would he be free. The knock at the door decimated all hopes Damian had for that.

“Ah, that must be Mr. Fenton.” Mr. Carson mused out loud, “Come in.”

Fenton entered the room hesitantly, greeting Mr. Carson with a small smile. Fenton was a scholarship student and held reasonable grades so his intellect was not to be underestimated, though often simply being able to score well on tests did not translate to having adequate life skills. Fenton was taller than Drake, but still average, dark hair, tanned skin, gray-blue eyes. When Damian’s supposed mentor looked at Damian for the first time since he had entered the room, Damian couldn’t help but feel like he was caught in a stare off with a beast.

The way Fenton examined his surroundings reminded Damian of the League of Assassins. Careful, analytical and tactical. All things Damian had excelled in. But there was something different about Fenton than what Damian had often seen in the League. His eyes were softer than those that had trained Damian. Damian couldn’t understand why his eyes looked like that.

Fenton smiled at him in a way that was likely meant to be kind, “Hi, you must be Damian. I’m Danny.” He stuck out his hand for Damian to shake.

Damian did not take the hand, instead he turned to principal Carson, “When can I leave?” He asked board, subtly eying Fenton’s reaction in his peripheral vision.

“We have to iron out the finer details and the both of you will be free to go until we see each other for our weekly check in every Friday.” Principal Carson started, “Mr. Fenton why don’t you take a seat.

Undeterred by Damian’s lack of interest, Fenton took a seat. Mr. Carson explained to Fenton his responsibilities as a mentor and what would be expected of him, Fenton in turn nodded along attentively. After his long explanation of the whole program the both of them were free from his office, and excused from classes until lunch to “get to know each other better”.

Damian translated that to having until lunch to show Fenton that he was out of his depth and have him running with his tail between his legs.

“So…” Fenton drawled trying to buy time to think of something adequate to say no doubt, “How about we go to the library to hang out?” Fenton offered.

Damian simply huffed in agreement as they made their way to a pair of sofas tucked between the many rows of books.

“So, Damian, uh, what do you like to do after school?” Fenton asked unoriginally.

Damian turned so he could meet Fenton eye-to-eye. “Train.” He said honestly. If he plans on scaring him off then leaning into the superficial things he learned in the League would do him well.

“Oh, you do sports?” Fenton asked inquisitively. Damian was momentarily thrown off by his show of genuine interest in his personal life, but Damian quickly collected himself. Fenton was merely putting on an act to get him to open up, Damian would be a fool to fall for it.

“No.” He scoffed at the thought of sports, “I train for battle,” He made sure to put as much confidence as he could in his voice. Oftentimes in the past when he had told his peers of his activities they had brushed him off and laughed at him, Damian wondered if Fenton would have a similar reaction.

“Hardcore.” Fenton nodded in awe.

Damian blinked, “You believe me?” He found himself whispering.

“Well, yeah.” Fenton responded as if it were the most obvious thing, in fact, he seemed confused as Damian’s bafflement.

Damian quickly collected himself, “Well of course you should believe me it’s the truth, I’m a highly skilled blade user.” He nodded to himself.

“Blade user, huh? Do you prefer katanas or wakizashi? Or a classic long sword maybe.” Fenton asked eying Damian as if it would help him find the correct answer.

“Katanas obviously.” Damian scoffed, “They’re incredibly balanced, strong, and give you incredible control over your attacks. Wakizashi are also a good option if you prefer close combat and if you’re fighting in an area with a lot of obstacles.” Fenton hummed and nodded at his explanation, and Damian found himself continuing, “Long swords are originally from the Bavaria and Switzerland regions during the medieval times-”

#danny and damian #damian al ghul #damian wayne #danny fenton #dpxdc #Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program #Mentor Danny #danny: wow this kid seems kinda nervous let me send him some chill vibes #damian: why do i keep talking???#and yes danny asking about the swords was a callback to what damian said to prove that danny is going to live up what damian needs him to b #but tbh we all knew that #is principal carson clockwork??? who knows #damian: violence is an option #danny after years of being surrounded by ghosts that will tackle him to the floor and break bones as a way to say wassup bestie:#aww what a cute baby ghost talking about baby ghost things #tim loves trolling damian #actually i love trolling damian and am living vicariously thru him #damian is not a reliable narrator #damian is also rly dramatic #he is best boy <3 #kinda forgot duke isn't suppose to be here yet but #my story my timeline #danny mentorship au

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greenbergwrites · 5 months ago

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missing alpha daddy james dearly. would love to hear your thoughts on how he and stevie would approach their heat/rut, or oh my i would kill to read their bonding

This one's been in my head for like 3 days straight and I have like 4 other things I need to be working on, BUT I WROTE THIS INSTEAD

Like, let’s say in this ‘verse that Alphas are just a step above feral when they’re in rut. They’re so clouded by instinct and need that they can’t even remember their own names.

Alpha Daddy Bucky, he would be afraid to subject his baby to that. His perfect boy, who’s so fucking innocent and sweet—too sweet to handle an Alpha in rut.

Maybe an Alpha normally goes into rut 2-3 times a year. When the symptoms first start, you can take medication that will suppress it, but that’ll only work for up to 3 cycles. Any longer and it’ll be dangerous.

So at the start of their relationship, Bucky decides that’s what he’s going to do. The first year of their relationship, he never goes into rut.

And then that year is up and the next time he feels the symptoms start, he knows he has to go through with it. Steve has grown so much in that time. He’s flourished, a boy now confident in his needs and his place, but he’s still too sweet.

Bucky makes the necessary arrangements. Makes sure that everyone knows what’s coming and that they’ll need to guard his den and Steve to make sure his baby stays safe while he’s indisposed.

He doesn’t tell Steve. Steve will want to sacrifice himself to Bucky’s needs and Bucky won’t let that happen.

And then his rut comes.

He loses all sense of self, everything down to his name, until the only thing left is the animal inside.

The Alpha paces his den. He’s naked and sweating, his cock heavy and aching between his legs. He’s furious.

He wants to mount. To fuck. To knot.

There are toys littering his den just for that, but he hates all of them. He tried, but none of them satisfy the need clawing at his insides.

He needs someone with him. Someone to submit to his needs. Needs a mate. His mate.

Does he have a mate? He can’t remember, but the idea makes his cock pulse, precome dripping from the tip.

A mate would satisfy him. The toys don’t have a scent, they don’t submit. They just are.

He breaks more than one of them in his anger. He breaks everything, trashing the room in a fit of rage that stems from having so much energy—so much hunger, so much need—and having no place to put it.

It could be mere hours he spends alone. It could be days, years, a millennia. Time has no true meaning in his need, because every fucking second without relief is a cut underneath his skin.

Somewhere in the monotony of his pain, the door to his den opens and a little figure slips through.

The Alpha stops, breathing hard as he glares at the intruder.

It’s an Omega. A very small, very pretty Omega, barely older than a pup. The boy wears a comically large shirt tucked into a small skirt, carrying a teddy bear underneath one arm. The shirt has the Alpha’s scent on it—it’s his shirt, he’s sure of it, and his mouth goes dry.

The Omega shuts the door behind him, turning to glare at the Alpha.

“You are in so much trouble, Daddy,” he says in a furious whisper. “I’m so mad at you.”

Daddy.

Is that the Alpha’s name? It must be. The moment it falls from the pup’s lips, his gut tightens, his aching cock throbbing fiercely. His body likes that name. He wants to hear it again.

Still, the pup’s glare and his stance, fists perched on his tiny hips, is too much a challenge for an Alpha in rut.

The Alpha glares harder, snarling a warning at the pup. This is his territory, his den. He’ll abide no challenges here.

The boy blinks, cocking his head to the side. His hands leave his hips, coming up between them, palms out. He steps forward cautiously.

“Okay, Daddy,” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”

Before the Alpha can snap at him again, the pup folds himself neatly at the Alpha’s feet. The Alpha barely has time to notice how pretty he looks kneeling there, his tiny little skirt fanning over creamy pale thighs, before the pup takes the Alpha between glossy pink lips.

The Alpha groans, panting heavily as he watches the pup bob on his cock. The boy’s posture is relaxed, his scent contented, his warm, wet mouth gentle and hungry in equal measure. His gaze is lowered respectfully, never meeting the Alpha’s.

It isn’t sex. It’s submission. The pup is submitting to him, totally and completely, and for the first time since the haze of his rut took over, the Alpha settles.

It’s dangerous for anyone to help an Alpha through their rut, because this is what’s required. Total submission. An Alpha in rut craves to assert dominance.

The Alpha palms the back of the pup’s head, his fingers sliding through silky smooth hair.

“More,” he commands, his voice rough and gravel-deep as he tilts his hips. The hand on the pup’s head growing heavier.

The pup has offered submission with his warm mouth, but will he continue to submit when the Alpha dominates him? Or will he fight, challenge the Alpha?

He doesn’t challenge. He goes easily, sinking further onto the Alpha’s cock with a weak little moan. The Alpha groans again, his head tipping back as the pup continues to submit.

This is what he craved, what he needed. This is why the toys did not satisfy him, why they were an affront to his senses. Toys cannot be dominated. They cannot submit.

The Alpha’s chest rumbles with a deep, satisfied growl. His chin touches his chest, heavy-lidded gaze on the pup at his feet.

His knot aches. He’s going to put it in the pup’s mouth. Come with his knot behind the boy’s teeth and his cock in that pretty, slim throat. He’ll make the boy take it.

But not yet. The boy looks so pretty at his feet, and some distant part of him knows that if he rushes it, he’ll hurt the pup. He doesn’t want to hurt the pup.

So instead, he stands there and accepts the pup’s submission as his due, and tells himself that if he’s patient, he’ll be rewarded.

He doesn’t know how long they’re like that before the door bursts open.

The Alpha looks up, glaring at the two men hovering in the doorway, but they’re not looking at him.

“What are you doing in here?” One of them hisses frantically. “Come back here, you can’t be here, the boss will kill us.”

The Alpha’s hackles rise. They want to take the pup away from him.

They won’t get him, not this pretty boy who submits so easily. If they try—if they even think of touching the pup—the Alpha will kill them both.

Before the Alpha can answer, or the rage can take over, the Omega pulls away from his cock. He turns his head to glare at the two men.

“Go away,” he says, somehow firm and pouting at the same time. The Alpha’s cock throbs at the sight of that plump lower lip glistening in the low light. “I’m not leaving Daddy, he needs me.”

Daddy. That name again. God, his body likes that name. His cock bobs, smearing precome over the Omega’s cheek.

“He said—”

“I don’t care what he said,” the Omega says, glaring. “I’m not leaving my Daddy.”

Irritation flares inside the Alpha. The boy had been so pliant before, but now he’s dangerously close to challenging again and it’s purely the fault of the interlopers.

The Alpha forces two fingers into the pup’s mouth, hooking behind his teeth and pushing down until those pretty lips are open again. He guides the pup’s face back to him.

“Submit,” he demands roughly, all but shoving his cock back into the pup’s mouth.

He lets go of the boy’s jaw only to palm the back of his head again, gripping him tight and keeping pressure there so the pup can’t pull away again.

He pushes his cock deep and repeats, “Submit.”

Blessedly, the pup does.

This time, the Alpha rolls his hips to meet the boy’s eager mouth, fucking himself good and deep. The pup clutches at his thighs, moaning every time the Alpha’s cock hits the back of his throat.

He wanted to wait. He wanted to savor the pup’s submission. But he’s been challenged too much and the interlopers—they want to take the pup.

The Alpha pushes his cock into the boy’s throat and knots his mouth.

The boy shivers at his feet, making weak little noises as his throat convulses around the Alpha’s cock. His eyes roll into the back of his head and a moment later, the scent of his release reaches the Alpha’s nose.

God, the little pup likes it. Likes to be dominated so completely.

He’ll be lucky if the Alpha ever takes his knot out after this.

When the peak of his orgasm as faded, the Alpha looks back to the door. The men haven’t left.

He sneers.

“My knot is in his throat,” he tells them. Well. Close enough. “Will you try to take him now?”

They know they can’t. Even if they were brave enough to get so close—which they clearly aren’t—trying to take the pup now would hurt him.

He gives it a beat, letting that knowledge sink in, before he growls, “Leave.”

It’s clear the interlopers don’t want to do that, not without the pup, but they have no choice. They leave.

They come back, but they never get the boy.

Not when the little one is astride his hips, the Alpha’s cock buried deep in that tight, lithe little body. The pup’s shoulders hunched and the bear still under his arm, one hand braced against the Alpha’s chest as he hangs his head and cries.

“I don’t like it this way, Daddy,” he whispers. “Don’t make me.”

The Alpha knows. He realized that the moment he laid on his back and pulled the boy on top of him, could smell it in the little one’s scent.

The Alpha grips his small hips tight and demands, “Submit.”

The boy does, riding his cock as he sobs. The pup loves it and hates it, that much is clear. The Alpha only loves it. Loves the distress on the pup’s face, the tears dripping onto his bare chest, the tight hole milking his cock so perfectly, but most of all, he loves the pup’s submission. His obedience.

Distantly, he hears the door to his den open. This time, it doesn’t open all the way, just enough for more voices to float through.

“How the fuck did he get in there?”

“I don’t know—”

“You were supposed to make sure that doesn’t happen, you idiots—”

“God, the boss is going to kill us.”

“Ya think?”

“We have to get Steve away from him before he gets hurt, keep watch until you see an opportunity.”

The Alpha is irritated again. Not just from the intrusion, nor the distraction from the perfect picture of a distressed pup on his cock.

No, he’s irritated that they think he would hurt the pup. This lithe, delicate creature, so fine-boned that it would take no strength at all to break him.

He needs to dominate the pup—needs the pup to submit to him, totally and completely—but he would never hurt the pup. Just the idea threatens to soften his cock, which should be impossible in his state.

He gathers the boy to him, rolling them until the Alpha is on top of him now. He draws himself out of the pup’s hot, tight body before snapping his hips, burying himself to the hilt.

The pup comes, but still the Alpha doesn’t stop.

He rubs his body along the boy’s, sliding their skin together until their scents mix completely, fucking him hard because that’s what his instincts demand.

“Submit,” he murmurs to the pup, licking up the boy’s tears. “I won’t hurt you, pup, I just need you to submit.”

The boy makes a soft little noise, lithe fingers gripping the Alpha’s face and bringing him down for a needy kiss. When their lips part, the pup looks up at him with open, naked trust.

“I know, Daddy,” he whispers. “Even if you don’t. Even if they don’t. I know. You would never hurt me, not even like this.”

And what can the Alpha do but knot the pup after that?

#nani asks #greenberg replies #a/b/o dynamics #alpha rut #I was gonna take this through until Bucky remembers his own name again and is a little bit ashamed of how thoroughly he railed his baby boy #but I really do have other things I need to work on. so. XD

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