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dairy-farmer · 4 months

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Is me~ back to haunt you Ask Box o/ because I just had A Thought(tm)

What if~? The OPPOSITE of my Magic Sex Toy idea? Uno Reverse?

But how would that even work? You say. Tim would very obviously notice!

Oh ho ho~ ye of little Faith! *slaps my "join the Church of Civilian Tim" poster I obviously made myself* CONSIDER! Not a cape! Semi-stable schedules!

We open our scene with stalking. As ya do. Tim would prefer you call it "bird watching" or "observing the night life" but... let's be real here. Stalking. He's getting them NICE Premium Pics for his Definitely-Not-A-Stalker-Shrine. There's a newbie on the scene. A gaudy robe wearing mofo.

3 guess what HIS shtick is. First two don't count.

But! Thing is? Tim is no long a wee baby faced pre-teen. He is a Man(tm). Legally, twice over. And well... you find a LOT if Neat Late Night Shops running after the bats. He may have been persuaded by CERTAIN libidos that maybe he should check them out. Who can say? You can't prove ANYTHING. These bags are groceries and no you can't check..

Where was he? Ah, right, Pics of the Nightwing booty. *click*

Tim forgets Rule Number 1.5: ALWAYS keep an eye on what the villian is doing.

By the way... what that bright light? Oh, just a SPELL BOLT. Fuckin DODGE, MAN!

He fails to dodge.

🥺 H-His camera... Night-booty... Also why does he feel? Tingly? He doesn't stick around to figure it out. Grabs his TRAGICLY dead camera and bolts. Not getting caught at the scene of the stalking TODAY, no sir! Batmans definitely gonna check the area and he SHANT be there! Early night it is!

He gets back to his apartment. Still feels tingly... but less? Maybe those charms he looked up how to make protected him after all. Still, shouldn't push his luck, you know? He settles in for the night. Gets a warm shower.

Comes out and eyes the bags he dropped by the bed... and... well...

He DID wrap up early~ Maybe treat for Timmy time. He digs them out.

Weird.

They? We're already pretty life like (it's why he bought them) but... when he TOUCHES one? He swears it gets MORE life like? He really should look this up or something... suspect toys in Gotham and all... but on the other hand? Horny. And the boxes WERE closed. It's fiiiiine.

But which one? It's kinda been a while. And he doesn't want to be sore tomorrow. This one!

So Tim lays back. Let's himself enjoy working himself open. Then works the fake(?) Cock inside himself. And oh~ it's WARM. Twitchs. He let's himself enjoy a slow, lazy session. Get really sloppy and relaxed before finally finding juuust the right angle aaaand~

Across the city, the current Robin, Damian Wayne, is shaking APPART on a roof top. Sweat pouring down his temple, thighs trembling as he tries ro stop himself from rutting up into empty air. It won't help. Won't make the damnable TEASING go any faster. Wet and tight and PERFECT around him.

Came out of NOWHERE. One second he was patrolling, the next barely catching himself from falling. Stumbling into an alchove on some god forsaken roof. Hands fumbling to turn off his comms. Absolutely not. They could NOT hear him like this.

Panting into hands pressed tight over his own mouth to stiffle the sound he wants to make. Beg and demand that magnificent heat go FASTER. Plunge him DEEPER. But he CANT. Because there's no one there. Just him and the slowly increasing pressure in his balls, begging for relief.

Then, like prayers answered, it DOES. He could WEEP. Can't stop the aborted jerks of his hips as he chases his relief. Soon is trembling like the virgin he ISNT anymore as he spills into... into SOMEONE.

They take it so well. So perfectly.

He's RUINED. His hand will never be enough after this. And Tim has no idea.

Sure, he's not stupid. He didn't buy toys the fake cum. (So to be safe plan B it is) But? In the cold like of day? Prooooobably magic sex toys. Eh. It's Gotham. Not the weirdest thing to happen. Tim's keeping them.

And using them.

Thus begins the "phantom lover" incident, as Bruce will insist on calling it. Because "we were haunted by random fuckings" sounds... unprofessional. And he's a Dramatic Bitch at heart.

Damian, obviously, told NO ONE. Patrol? Utterly normal. Mind you business. But Bruce? Uncomfortable conversations for EVERYBODY~☆

See, Tim has a long day. His new camera isn't gonna be in for a WEEK. There is no point in going out. So his evening stretchs long and empty before him. Which... SPEAKING of things both long and things empty... >.>

He remembers. There was an absolute UNIT that he bought. It also has that base... which mean he could put it on the sex pillow. Try riding it... oh he's GOTTA, now.

Lucky for Bruce, he's not even in the cave when it hits. Unluckily, it is a cock teasing hell. Nothing to hold. No body to press close. No skin to run his hands across or ears to whisper filthy praise. So TIGHT. Fluttering and fighting to take him. Sinking little by little. Can't even HEAR him praising them. He can't even distract them, rub their clit and sooth them as muscles relax.

Can't hold them by the hips and work them up and down. They way he knows will work best. At angles that will make them SOB. Just nothing, nothing, nothing. Trembling and eager around him but so SLOW. Pausing again and again to adjust. Can't thrust in, can't pull out, only TAKE it. Let himself be teased.

But OH. When they finally, FINALLY get a rythme? He knows they can hear a word he says. Not yet. But the FILTH he growls. The audacity of what they're doing. He's GOING to find them. Going to pin them done and-

Tim spend the next day sore, but happy. Definitely not an "every day" sort of toy, but holy shit the orgasm. He hasn't slept this well in a WHILE. Though... when he wakes up? The Bats are acting weird. Violent, hyper-focused, seemly shaking down leads with a single minded enthusiasm. Weird.

Speaking OFF. Now he's wondering... does the possibly fake cum... TASTE like real cum?

One way to find out.

And... look. Dick may have been warned, but it's one thing to hypothetically get your bits milked dry and another to be doubled over seeing the face of god. He would gladly kill a man for the ability to grab hold of whoever is doing this and ram home. The mouth on him is a thing of wonder and it keeps TEASING the tip. They keep running soft, pampered, little hands up and down his length. God he wants them to feel him in their GUT. Fuck their face and their ass and any OTHER holes they have til everything is sloppy and wet and-

Yep! From the tast flooding Tim's mouth, that's real cum. Good his he got his shot. But it begs the question... whoms't exactly is he fucking? Tim's not sure he's comfortable with random hook ups. What if, Gods forbid, it linked him to the JOKER or something!? He'd have to blow up the city and everyone in it.

He considers this as he resumes his sta- he means, BIRD watching. Newly be-camera-d. Weirdly enough, now Nightwing is acting off too. What is going ON? Also... he could of SWORN he saw the Red Hood a second ago. Did he leave? Aaw D:>

.....what's that sound?

*boss music starts playing* That would be the Red Hood. Owner of the mythical Common Sense gene. HE immediately phoned a friend! And by THAT we mean he beamed up to The Watchtower to get poked at by magic users until he had a scanner.

Beep beep, mother fucker. You have explaining to do.

OR, counter argument.... Tim makes a run for it. Doesn't GET far. But he Sure Did Try! Jason is unamused. Consent is sexy, kids. And he has the gun to explain that. But! TIM has the panic babbling to explain his horny stupidity and innocence.

Fair enough. He's confiscating them though. If you get horny, just fucking ask.

Wait.... really? Does Jason really mean that?

And... two things. Cute Horny Idiot knows his identity. And.... he never said HE wasn't also apparently a horny idiot. Sure, why the fuck not.

He confiscate the magic contraband... then bends that twink in HALF. Comms off, back into it. Tim can barely breathe, pressed down so tightly to the bed as his guts get re-arranged, callused hands holding his legs spread, his childhood hero rumbling FILTH into his ear as hips snap against his, again and again and AGAIN. The world is hot and fuzzy around the edges and... AND-!

Jason's pretty damn smug that HES not only the one who found mystery twink, but them fucked him incoherent. He seriously considers just... not saying anything. Whoops! Nothing to find here folks. To bad the Watchtower is a fuckin snitch.

So obviously Bruce finds out. And wants to "talk to him". Which inevitably ends with Tim, pressed close to his front, held still as he "fucks him properly". Which as far a Tim is concerned is a god damned excuse to EMPALE him on his monster of a cock. Work it deeper and deeper, all while holding him like a lover, as he absolutely DESTROYS Tim's poor puss. Makes him lose count of how many times he's gotten off. Until everything is too bright and hyper sensitive. Til it's nearly hurting but not quite there and all Tim can think about, as he whimpers and drools, is SLEEP.

Oh... and THEN he wants to talk about how Tim knows their secret identies. Ask him in the morning or Tim WILL cry at you.

He wakes up in Wayne Manor. He did not go to sleep in Wayne Manor. He can't move his lower body with out pain. Bruce is clearly pretending he planned that. Liar.

Then? Karma. His horny chickens come home to roost. Has Bruce introduced you to his sons? This is Dick and Damian. They remember you. And would like a "word".

(The word is sex and they would like it as soon as possible)

👀👀👀!!!!!!!!!!!! a reverse magic sex toy!!!!!!!!!!!!! where tim tortures the other bats by fucking his little pussy with their cocks while they're forced to just suffer and endure it until he's finished. more than once they almost scream from frustration because tim finishes before they do and he pulls them out of his warm, slick little hole. 👀👀👀👀

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #brutim #dicktim #damitim #jaytim

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dairy-farmer · 11 days

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In the same flavor as Talon Tim? And obsessive Dick? You know who ELSE is obsessive? Damian. Who goes absolutely apeshit over Legacies and Mantels etc? Damian.

He hated Tim because he was in the way.

But what if? He TRAGICALLY wasn't in the way? And Damian arrived to his Father tearing the world apart looking for Tim? Distraught? Is thrust into TIM'S role as the emotional pillar of the family?

Well obviously, FINDING Tim would secure everyone's esteem. Tim would CLEARLY need time to recover, be grateful, likely hand over Robin. And? Look at all Timothy has achieved! Supporting his Father in his time of need. A loyal student. Even tried to AVOID bothering his father by creating a false uncle, much to his father's consternation!

Damian begins to look up to him. Join his Father in obsessing. It's how they bond.

What took Tim? Where is he? How was he taken?

Finally Damian find a clue. No time to waste. Goes after it! A Fae court, under Gotham. Timothy, blank eyed at a tea table, young as the day he vanished. Just after Jason returned. A few bruises still were they must have been. Truely, frozen in time.

The Fae chitter and mock.

But Damian is an AL Ghul. And he? Has brought cold Iron.

Soon he is throwing his target over his shoulder and escaping. Chased by furious Fae. He slams the gates Timothy must once have opened in curiosity. Making note to come back and weld them shut. His predecessor hangs limp over his shoulder like a ragdoll.

He takes him to his safe house.

Tries to rouse him. Timothy obeys commands but little else. For a moment... he worries he is too late. But, careful wording of a command get him an answer. Tim is simply deep and away, in his mind. Dreaming.

Wonderful.

That means Damian is going to be forced to learn MAGIC. Nonetheless? He takes care of his predecessor. And it is... not as tedious as he would expect. He could almost liken it to caring for his pets. Precious and reliant. Obedient.

He finds joy in managing Timothy's health. Picking his clothes. Washing his body, rubbing the scents HE chose into his skin. Timothy is improving. Looking to him when he arrives. Responding to motions and not just explicit commands. Listening to music.

Damian wonders... if this is what his Mother felt for his Father. If so, he is beginning to understand her actions, through his youth. His hands linger, longer and longer. Stroke warm skin, just to feel it. Pull Timothy close, into his lap, tucked away from the world that gave him the scars upon his skin.

Kisses his perfect mouth. A prompt that Timothy obeys. Damian knows he should not. But is he not a man? Is he not only mortal? Who could resist perfection? Who would NOT lick that tender skin, just to taste? Run greedy, claiming hands, down that body? Spread those legs and plunder, like a thief, the wonders found there?

Timothy makes such perfect little sounds. More alert then he has been in ages. Gasping and whining, little cries as he takes more then he should. Shuddering and clenching around him. Brief moments of clear eyed clarity in the spasming high of it, before drifting back into the mists of his mind.

And really, Damian has only one choice when he sees THAT.

If he wants to save Timothy, he truely has no CHOICE but to fuck him well. How tragic. Oh well, Damian will just have to make this noble sacrifice for the family. And, of course, take responsibility for his actions. Marry his Father's beloved Student-son.

Their children will be glorious.

-🐼🐼🐼

👀👀👀👀👀👀 this!!!!!! tim having gone missing as a kid and then damian finding him and growing increasingly attracted because of how dependent tim is on him and there's a rush of attraction intertwined into the helpless state that tim is stuck in!!!!

when damian arrives it's not to warm welcomes or open arms. he's not even welcomed with any sort of...attention. damian has never faltered in maintaining his face since reactions were trained out of him but he does feel a steady trickle of...discomfort when he stands by and listens to his father and mother viciously argue in front of him, his father all but demanding his mother take damian and get out of his sight, that he's not interested in this responsibility, that he's not going to entertain whatever little 'game' she's concocted to get his attention now-

and...damian knows his mother is not the kind to burst into emotional reactions. unlike him she has a cool head and is capable of hiding her temper and reining it in. but in the face of damian's father it's like all that falls apart and she's angry and spitting and hissing in low tones at him for his disrespect, for his words, for daring to talk down to her because unlike him she's actually capable of taking care of HER brood.

and her words, so low and biting with an edge of cold mockery just cause something to...shutter in damian's father. and with barely more of a word or exchange it is settled and damian is shepherded away with his father where he is quickly conscripted into his father's service.

damian is no stranger to back breaking work but even he does not acclimate to his father's methods quickly. everything damian does is a failure. not even damian's fighting prowess or training are enough to carry him through his father's service which demands mastery of arts damian...does not excel in. his mother had told him to learn as much as he could from his father and damian had come ready and willing but...it is difficult.

father is...a hazard. he's a hazard to damian, to others. damian knows exactly what happens when partnered on a mission with someone of a great temper or affinity towards violence just for the sake of violence. despite what the public believes, assassins are not mass murderers with a thirst for blood. they are people of a particular skill set that they have refined and polished to the point that they are employed to make use of those skills and talents. they're like artisans, painters, sculptors, and people come to them for their particular talent in the arts.

but...there are subgroups of assassins that insist on making risky maneuvers, doing things in the messiest way possible, disorganized to the point they couldn't find their own ass if they had to.

that's father. father escalates easy targets to the point that they're practically smears on the ground. leaves targets in pain and brutalized that damian often wonders if it would have been more merciful to just have ended them. damian does not revel in violence, he has a job to do and that's all it is. it's nothing any deeper than that. but father...father takes everything personal, behaves as though the actions of another are a personal affront to him.

damian had thought his father's actions were...excessive. but he never stepped in. not until there was a report of a kidnapping of a young boy. and then it's like damian could 'see' the shift that those words had.

it's the first time damian has to step in. often he is relegated to evacuation, tracking, making sure no civilians or police accidentally stumble into where father is conducting one of his interrogations (though beatings seem a more apt description).

damian is aware that there is something...off about his father. reports from his childhood, the words of his mother, the musings of his grandfather...none of it aligns with the man he meets, lives with, and follows. there is something wrong with his father. and damian has known that for awhile but its made more clear when he has to pull his father back and off the 'kidnapper' who turned out to be the stolen child's father who hadn't been satisfied with the custody arrangement done by the court system.

damian knew his father upheld righteous morals, maintained a no-kill order. and damian had been willing to submit to it to meet him. but this man...this man who had been clawing at the skin of a kidnapper like he was trying to lift a mask off his face while demanding to know where 'he' was when damian had already delivered the child into the hands of a nearby patrolling officer...

damian learns quickly when he needs to call in backup for help with one of his father's 'episodes'. grayson arrives to help him, he apologizes to damian, tells him that bruce hasn't had 'one of these' in a while, that they thought that he'd worked through all the triggers for this.

'this' being an incredibly violent reaction to the kidnapping of a child. apparently damian had a predecessor. a boy just a little older than him that had been the pride of his father, his crown jewel and though grayson never says that its clear that's what he means when talking about 'timothy'. about how sweet he was to father, how patient, and understanding, and how he was like a little ball of clay that had perfectly molded itself to suit his father's needs.

damian understands the pride of having a 'perfect' apprentice. often times teachers in the league had favorites they would show extra attention to in hopes of molding them to be their legacy. damian had never been one of those such favored students but he'd hoped with his father he'd...

father does not take the disappearance of his student well. he leaves gotham often, at the drop of a hat for the slightest lead that might take him to his missing student. it's why grayson is present in gotham so frequently, often patrolling with damian on the many nights his father is out and gone.

grayson confides in him that he fears the worst for timothy, ot that he'd ever tell father that. but...grayson says he knows that tim would have found a way to contact them if he were...alive.

damian does not understand the deep...devotion and loyalty his father displays. he tries to. he probes, asks questions and while he is initially rebuffed- it is the only thing father can speak about with some shred of calmness, the only thing that turns him into the man that resembles the legends damian had been fed.

'tim would do the same for me'. is eventually what damian's father would settle on. it's a quiet phrase said while damian is trying to sweep the shards of a smashed alcohol glass. it's said with such thick conviction that damian believes him. and learns that timothy had been one thing above all else. loyal.

timothy is the one thing damian and his father can talk about. the only thing damian can use to gain recognition, attention. others have resigned themselves to timothy's death. both pennyworth and grayson grow quiet and mournful at his mention. as the years pass the only one who keeps looking and searching is father.

and damian, having spent years with his father, serving as his robin grows... more than fond at timothy.

there's a desire in damian. to see, to feel what his father felt. to gain the approval of timothy and after all his years away surely he is no longer suited to the mantle and would desire to see damian as his successor with all the good damian has done.

father sometimes visits the site of timothy's disappearance, the last place he was spotted before never being seen again. damian has seen the surveillance camera still so many times its burned into his memory. timothy drake on a class field trip with classmates to a large, outdoor sculpture art exhibit in central jersey. damian had seen the 'parent copy' of the permission slip a million times, it was wrinkled and delicate from years of being carried around in his father's wallet. a flash of pain crossed his father's expression every time he looked at it, the little slip with his signature that had allowed timothy to go to the last place he was seen.

on the morning of his disappearance timothy had left the manor in a red crew neck, new blue sneakers, wide leg jeans, and a white baseball cap to keep the sun out of his eyes. he'd eaten a blueberry muffin that had left his lips stained a light purple for breakfast. and all he'd carried with him was a small sun protection stick (spf30), his copy of the keys to the manor, his handheld digital camera, and four individual twenty dollar bills for lunch and souvenirs that damian's father had given him (timothy had been planning to buy postcards for his collection). he'd been dropped off in front of the school by alfred at precisely 7:28, two minutes earlier than the permission slip had told him to be there. the bus had been set to depart at 7:45 but a few late students had made them hold the departure until 7:57. at 10:11 the bus had arrived at its destination, timothy wandered the sculpture grounds with his tour group until 11:45 when they took a break for lunch. timothy was seen on camera eating at the sculpture grounds restaurant with one boy and two girls in his group. he ordered the tuscan kale salad with chicken and no beets. he'd also ordered a small side dish of cut up green grapes, which wasn't on the menu, that he'd dumped into an empty to-go coffee cup. it was father's belief that timothy intended to feed the fruit to the ducks that populated the various ponds and lake scattered throughout the sculpture grounds despite the 'no feeding' signs. the last sight of timothy was him leaving the scope of the restaurant security cameras, staring down at the printed map of the grounds from the visitor's center.

following lunch the school had apparently allowed students to go off on their own to explore. something that hadn't been disclosed in the permission slip which father's lawyers had viciously used in their lawsuit against the school, holding them in-part responsible for timothy's disappearance.

damian studied timothy's case, every inch of it, with a fine toothed comb. he'd read the reports from the grounds, from the school, the reports from the divers that had been hired to search the lake because the school had tried to offer the theory that perhaps timothy slipped in and drowned though that was more an attempt to shift blame to the sculpture grounds. in the end none of it amounted to anything. the sculpture grounds were close to a rail station, a highway, were surrounded by woods, and close to a parking lot where the school bus of two other schools and their students as well as dozens of other visitor's cars were parked.. a million ways timothy could've been taken. and with no one accompanying him the lack of witnesses would have made the abduction even easier.

damian goes to the grounds whenever he can, often with his father on the day timothy disappeared because of some...blind hope from father that maybe he'll see something he missed the first hundred times he scoured the grounds. damian was not quite the same detective and so his visits are more...melancholy, trying to imagine timothy beside him, trying to think of where his mind was, where he went after he left that restaurant. damian is holding a paper cup of warm tea in his hands as walks, passing by the lake timothy likely stopped to sprinkle grapes into for the local wildlife, eyes catching on the light of the restaurant timothy had his last meal in, catching the eye of a waiter and...damian stops.

stops and recalls something father had told him about timothy. about how timothy preferred a low civilian profile, often being more agreeable, quiet, and obedient at school than he was as robin. and damian imagined that boy. small and nervous and so reluctant to question authority. and he thinks about how such a boy would never dare try to blatently break the rules in front of a place where so many workers and teachers having lunch might see and scold him. and then damian recalls the security footage of timothy walking away with his little cup of grapes and the map open in front of him...

damian rushes to open the map on his phone. and he thinks father has covered every stretch of the grounds looking for something, anything. its been years so if there was something it was long gone. but damian clings onto his theory with everything he has. and he turns his body in the direction timothy had been facing and searches for the body of water closest to him on the map. he finds it. a part of the grounds further away from the main grounds, across the parking lot to a quiet isolated part of the park timothy no doubt chose to be able to peacefully break the rules. and damian goes, steps slow and heavy, heart beating fast and hard in his ribcage.

the pond is small but reflective like a mirror. there's a single sculpture nearby nearly 30 feet tall and made of aluminum depicting women dancing naked and carelessly in a circle while holding hands. there is a small family of ducks swimming in a circle and making ripples appear in the water. damian is a fan of art and for a moment is drawn in by the fluidity of such rigid matierial. he walks around it in oervation, taking it from different angles. and his thinks thats likely what timothy did as well. entranced by the sight he would've held up his camera, trying to capture it in the best light, find the best angle. he would've walked circles around the sculpture trying to get the perfect picture. and damian does the same. but there is no revelation. no lightbulb moment.

trying to see through timothy's eyes can only take him so far. and then he remembers something else. timothy's eyes. damian has grown since he arrived. he's freshly 18 and nearing todd's height much to grayson's great chagrin. but timothy...timothy had been small. shorter. and his eye level would have...damian bends his knees slightly, lowering himself, trying to see, trying to see...

the sculptures look taller from this height, the shadows cast on their aluminum faces look sharper, harder, more pointed. they don't look carefree with their loose stances and thrown back heads...they look...tired. exhausted. like they're been dancing for ages and can barely keep themselves standing. damian stares. they have no eyes, no mouth, just smooth aluminum metal for faces, but the way their heads are tilted and angled, its like they're...pointing. damian imagines tim seeing the same...thinking the same. his little eyes following the direction and landing on a barely visible path that feeds into the woods. a path covered in leaves from the trees, a path not on the map, a path that when walked its like the sun has been sucked away. damian feels like its gone from day to night in an instant as he walks, following the path. his steps are slow and careful but the crunching of leaves under his foot make him feel like a deer that has heard the snapping of a branch. damian finds a heavy iron gate at the end of the path. it's rusted and brittle in some parts, and the large padlock keeping it closed is open and letting the gate lie open, just a crack. the opening is small, just barely enough for a child to slip through and damian has to suck in to get through, some deep animal part of his brain telling him it would be a VERY bad idea to open the gate further, letting it make a sound as it creeps open and alerting...something of his presence.

damian does not deal with magic. he is...wary of the arts given the users his grandfather had employed. it is not fear, he does not fear them. it's the unknown of what they could do, how they could compel. perhaps part of damian, the part that was a child had feared them once. and perhaps that is why he carried around a small lump of cold iron no bigger than his thumbnail. and perhaps it is good he did that as damian freezes at the sight in front of him. at the small figure seated at a wooden table littered with fine fruits and cheeses, the smell of spiced meats wafting in his nose, crusty, dark loaves of bread, jars of fragrant sweet jam and tall, crystal pots of teas.

damian's heart is in his throat as he stares at the soft, youthful face of a young timothy drake. damian feeling cold, shots of fear stabbing into his heart at seeing timothy's blueberry stained lips obediently drink at a cup of tea offered to him by...something. damian knows of fae, has heard of them. never encountered them though. but he knows about them, knows about how vicious and dangerous they are. when constantine had talked about them once there'd been a white, sickly look on his face. they were bad news. bad news. best to avoid at all costs and heavens help you if you caught their attention.

superboy who'd beat avidly listening had tried probing further, asking about their looks. and constantine had said they looked different for everyone. some people saw a meadow with cherubs, others little devils with horns in a burning hell pit, some saw imps with wings but damian...damian saw...balls of light attached to bodies. slender, naked bodies lacking genitalia and balls of light for heads the size of his palm that danced in circles, sang, cheered, cooed. and they were covering timothy like a colony of ants.

some were in his hair, braiding and playing with it, others tugging on his clothes and hands, nuzzling him and making sweet little sounds with voices like bells. some were cutting slices of bread and spreading jam on them, presenting them to timothy on plates as he obediently ate and drank and damian just felt the pit in his stomach grow bigger as he stared at the sight. he didn't know the consequences of accepting hospitality from fae but he knew it was bad.

at the very least timothy wasn't dead. if they hadn't been clearly charmed by him its very likely they would have killed, eaten, or enslaved timothy. from what damian could see they were just...playing with him.

timothy was alive...alive and unchanged by time and in the company of fae but alive. and damian knows the wise move is to turn around and call for backup, to summon a magic user. but the thought of outsiders helping to retrieve timothy, the thought of anyone handling timothy aside from damian...

it's stupid, its reckless, it's dangerous. damian could lose his life if he does it wrong. but he does it anyway.

the cold iron is just a theory, damian has nothing to confirm that it works. its just childhood hope and belief it will protect him and maybe that's what makes it work more than the lump of metal itself.

the fae scatter, shrieking, angry and pained as damian throws it at where they're concentrated around timothy to get them to break away from him, he picks timothy up and starts sprinting back the way he came.

damian can not see them when his back is turned. but he can feel it as they shift to something else. something angry, something hungry that chases him, nips at his heels, scratches at the exposed skin on the back of his neck, rips at his clothes. if he were anyone else he would have been caught, if damian had not trained in distance running while carrying half his weight he would have failed. but damian reaches that rusted iron gate, rips it open and throws it closed behind him just as hands, human hands with too many fingers and too pale to have blood running through the veins reach through the slots of the gate and attempt to pull him back. damian rips himself away and keeps running, arms clenched tightly around timothy as he takes hard fast gasps of air while sprinting down the path and back into the light.

damian rips past those aluminum statues whose sad faces are looking toward him, startling a family of ducks as he keeps running. damian's heart is pumping out of his chest and he swears he's never felt more terrified. his steps hit the ground hard, kicking up dirt behind him, his breathing audible to his own ears over the thumping beat of his heart. even with nothing behind him he still feels like he's being chased by some invisible force. damian keeps running, keeps going until he reaches the car and gently lowers a blank faced timothy onto the back seat. his skin is cold but he's breathing. damian's senses and instinct for danger don't calm until he's on the road more than halfway back to gotham. his heart doesn't start beating normally until he's crossing the bridge into gotham because here he is safe, this is his domain and not even the fae can change that. he's lucky a highway patrol officer hadn't pulled him over for speeding on the highway and weaving between traffic to put some distance between himself and...whatever was going on on those cursed grounds. grounds he would never set foot on again, let constantine, zatanna, dr. fate or the others deal with whatever nest or infestation is occurring there.

damian does not take timothy directly home. he doesn't feel...safe. ready. so much has happened in one day and damian just...isn't ready. and he wants to look. wants to have to be able to take the time to see and examine timothy because he knows the moment he hands him to father that he will never leave him alone again. father, grayson, pennyworth and todd have all had their moments and time with timothy- now it is damian's turn.

damian finds a peace in examining timothy. in drawing blood, in buying comfortable clothing to change him into, in inspecting every bit of him including the pink little cunt that comes as a surprise to damian when he disrobes him for a bath. timothy is quiet and no amount of handling manages to get out a reaction. damian would think him dead if not for the rise and fall of his chest and the way he...obeys damian's commands. he eats and drinks what damian tells him to, lies down when told, rests and sleeps...but does not respond. does not reply even when damian quests for an answer.

it makes damian...concerned. timothy had been so highly valued by his father and he feels a sort of...responsibility to do his best to help him. or maybe that was just an excuse he used to hoard timothy for a little while longer. damian gets used to it. caring for timothy, nursing him back to health, combing his pretty hair, dressing him in soft wools and cottons, pressing foods for the gentle palate he'd had to his mouth, watching him sleep.

its days and then weeks and damian grows..comfortable and possessive. he has timothy sit on his lap, he strokes timothy's hair, he holds timothy close while they sleep. and slowly...timothy responds, damian knows he does. he can feel timothy arching into damian's hand cupping his cheek and kisses to his head. there's a softness in timothy's eyes when damian speaks softly and sweetly to him.

and so damian keeps going, keeps helping, keeps touching, keeps showing timothy affection and care. and eventually damian starts letting his hands stray, wander. his kisses migrate from a forehead to the cheeks to the sweet, soft mouth of timothy.

during baths damian's hands are soft and exploratory, gently cupping and squeezing timothy's developing breasts and tenderly floating over his little cunt where damian's fingertips barely brush the area. but eventually damian gets braver, and he marvels at the fleshy pink of timothy's insides as he gently uses two fingers to spread open the lips and gaze at timothy's most precious area. damian swirls fingers, barely rubbing and only softly darting inside. he uses conditioner that is sitting in timothy's hair to make it softer to ease the slide of one of his fingers as it presses in until it hits damian's knuckles.

damian is gentle, careful. timothy gets wetter and looser the more damian plays with his cunt. typically damian would change timothy into pajamas following his bath but damian starts opting to leave him naked, toweling him dry and lying him on the bed while damian gently kisses his jaw and breast while pumping fingers into him.

damian does not fuck timothy immediately. only when timothy's body trembles and he makes soft gasping and whining sounds while seizing tightly around damian's fingers that he thinks about it. that he experimentally presses his cock to the softness between timothy's legs, rubbing the head between puffy lips and painting himself with sticky wetness, mashing the head against a little clit that damian always makes sure to show care to. damian is gentle fucking timothy, aware of his small body and the fact that his adult cock is much too big for such a small hole. but damian persists and pretty soon he is pressed flush to timothy, their pelvises joined as damian kisses the entrance to timothy's little womb. damian fucks noises out of his brother, moans, whines, the sight of little furrowed brows, opening mouths, and eyes that have the hint of awareness just before they roll back while wrapping tightly around damian's waist to keep him and his jolting cock inside him. timothy's insides are red, almost bruised while dripping thick globs of damian's release onto the sheets. damian kisses timothy's clit and puffy cunt with apology before slotting his cock back against the fucked open hole and pumping timothy full again until crystal tears fill timothy's eyes while he squirms with pleasure and makes desperate, sweet noises that damian kisses out of him while slamming their hips together hard enough to knock the headboard against the wall.

damian's fingers dig into timothy's soft thighs hard enough to bruise as he grunts and borderline growls while pumping his little brother full of his seed. damian has loved timothy for years and he knows the family will not understand when he presents timothy to them and they learn everything. they may even be furious at damian for what he has done. but that will not matter because damian will have done what was necessary for timothy's sake. besides, damian has full intentions of taking responsibility. he's no philanderer, he will remain loyal to timothy whether he remains in this state or not and he will be careful to take wonderful care of whatever children result from their coupling.

it's the least damian could do.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #damitim

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