Damian Robin Costume Novels & Stories

Aunt Vivian. Clad in midnight-blue robes with silver embroidery that shimmered beneath the moonlight, she walked with the grace of someone who feared nothing and no one. Her chin lifted, eyes sharp, a quiet storm gathering in her stride. Damian turned to face her, his expression hardening as he tried to place her. His pride, still thick from his victory, painted arrogance into his voice. “And you are?” Vivian smiled—slow, knowing, like a wolf watching her prey try to act bigger than it was.

She knew whatever she wore had to make a statement, one that showed her power and authority. Damien, noticing her indecision, walked over and placed his arm around her waist. "I think I have something that would be perfect," he said with a smile, pulling out a stunning outfit she hadn’t yet had the chance to wear. It was a deep, midnight blue dress, with silver accents that shimmered slightly in the light. The design was elegant yet strong, and it felt like something only a goddess would wear.

Damien emerged from the car, standing tall at six-foot-four, the lights flaring from the dome, glinting off his styled, long blonde hair, giving him some kind ofl halo. His custom designed suit was black and hugged his muscular frame sharply, the material stretching across his broad shoulders. A simple Paul Newman Daytona Rolex peeked out from under the cuffs of his sleeves as he straightened his tie. The crowd gave an audible gasp in unison at the sight of him, then started screaming in a frenzy at the next instant. The cameras flashed wildly as the reporters yelled "Over here, Mr Romero! Over here!" The crowd was wild and shocked at Damien's appearance. It's been five years since the Greek

Claire turned in my direction just as I was pulled down and away from the rest of the fight. I landed hard on the other side. Damian stood over me, smiling down at me. He eyed me, dragging his gaze over my body. I could practically feel his gaze as if he was running his hands over my skin. My stomach turned. “Hmm… If I had known you were going to dress like a virgin sacrifice, I might have worn something a little more in style,” he chuckled. “Maybe a long dark robe?” “Stay away from me,” I said, pushing myself away from him. “Stay away from me. Candido—”

Speak up" Master Damien said in a gentle but cold voice filled with anger he was trying to control. "You do not have any evidences to prove I did any crime, I was only asked to handle the affairs of the castle till you get back and that was what I did" Robin lied with a straight face. Master Damien chuckled deadly and signaled one of the warriors. The warrior walked up to Robin and raising up his sword, he cut of his other hand. The hand detached and roll of to the floor. Blood pumped from his amputated hand as she screamed and writhe in pain.

Damian emerges from the trees. He wears the ceremonial white of a Silvermoon Alpha. His sleeveless vest is open at the chest, completely exposing his neck, throat, and broad shoulders. A silver sash is tied tight across his waist—our pack's colors. His dark hair is damp, combed back from his face. His eyes find mine across the water. I forget to breathe. He walks toward me. His steps are slow, deliberate, the bare soles of his feet making no sound on the stone. The small crowd watches in absolute silence.

Damian’s suit was deep dark navy blue, while Rai’s suit was all black. Damian had both hands in the pocket of his trouser while Rai was adjusting his cuff. I had never in my entire life looked at a picture as perfect as they were standing there. I could see a glimpse of their perfectly sculptured chests, and my heart began thumping. They looked so incredibly hot wearing suits. Looking at my reaction, Damian smirked. That man knew the effects he had on women. I blushed and went to him to punch him playfully on his arm. He just laughed aloud.

It filled the room like a storm about to break. And when I walked in with Hope at my side, I nearly forgot how to breathe. Damian stood waiting, already dressed in his ceremonial attire. Royal blue from head to toe. His silk shirt fitted him perfectly, emphasizing every line of muscle beneath it. His coat, long and regal was embroidered with the enormous insignia of the Blackmoon pack across his back, the silver threads glittering like starlights. His hair was loose today, falling around his face that made the women stare.

Not Oliver, that old man or even Damian himself. ******** Three days have passed by quickly and Damian smiled as he gazed at his image in the mirror. His grandfather really knew what would fit him. He passed his hands through his hair and straightened up his already straightened tie. He was nervous and happy at the same time because the whole world would know Maya belongs to him within an hour. He took a step back and examined himself one last time. Since grandpa had chosen a blue theme for the weeding, Damian was dressed in a pair of blue trousers and white long-sleeved shirt. The blue coat was the last thing he would wear before going out. His black mirror shoes were neatly polished as wel

Me: (sent him all the pictures and videos of me on his clothes). Damien: I need sunglasses! You are glowing too much, my eyes might hurt. Me: You like them? Damien: Babe😍 you are hot🔥. Is that you shaking my butt? Me: 😂,I was playing around. Damien: I will like to see you shake them tonight. Me: I will think about it. Damien: I will help you think fast. Is that my Nike? Me: It is mine now! Damien: Silly! You look great in it.