Damian Robin Costume Novels & Stories

She knew exactly what she was doing. Damien stood behind the camera, sleeves rolled up, the top buttons of his black shirt undone. The silver at his temples caught the light as he looked up. His gray eyes darkened the moment she stepped into the glow. “Coat off,” he said, voice low and commanding. Raven smiled, slow and wicked. She let the trench coat fall to the floor in one fluid motion. Underneath, she wore the most scandalous piece from his new collection — a sheer black lace bodysuit that was little more than strategic straps and delicate mesh.

Wayne bows deeply and retreats, the door clicking shut behind him. Damian stands alone for a moment, the plan solidifying in his mind. He strips efficiently, shedding his clothes until his skin is bare to the air. His cock hangs heavy between his thighs, already thickening with the anticipation of the hunt. He pulls a silk robe from the wardrobe, sliding the smooth fabric over his broad shoulders and tying it loosely at the waist. It hides nothing, the slit gaping open to reveal his muscular legs and the shadow of his manhood. He does not believe there is an omega alive who can resist him when he decides to make a move, and he intends to prove it tonight.

Then he nodded once, stepped past me, and walked away without looking back. Robin was in poor condition. One of his eyes was blackened and his lip was busted. The whipping had left marks across his back and shoulders visible even from the doorway. He was slumped forward in the chair with his wrists bound behind him. But his eyes were open and when I entered, he looked at me directly. Damian stepped forward. "You are going to tell us who you are working with," Damian said. "You can do that now or you can do it after another few hours in this room. Either way the outcome is the same. The only thing that changes is how long you spend here first."

He looked up at the kitchen window and raised a hand when he saw me, that same earnest quality he'd had at the pack meeting, young enough to still show what he felt without managing it. I raised my coffee mug back. Footsteps in the hallway. Not Luca's measured tread. Lighter, more deliberate. Damian appeared in the doorway. He was not in a suit. That was the first thing I noticed, because in all the weeks of living in this house I had never seen him in anything else before nine in the morning. Dark trousers, a plain dark shirt with the sleeves already rolled to the elbows, no armor of expensive fabric between him and the day. He looked different. Not less controlled but differently controlle

"Damian, come down to eat your breakfast!" his mom called from the kitchen. Damian just finished showering and was choosing what to wear. It was their last day of exams, and he was so excited that he wanted to wear something very special to impress Peter. He was planning to go with Juliette to the studio after they finish. He chose black ripped jeans and a dark blue shirt. Juliette told him before that these colors suit him a lot. He styled his brownish hair and put on some pink lip balm to complete everything.

Marcus muttered, suddenly snapping the knife shut and standing at strict attention. The heavy, reinforced front doors swung open, and the atmosphere in the entire foyer instantly shifted. It became heavy. Thick. Suffocating. Damian walked in. He had discarded his cream polo shirt from the morning, now wearing a pristine, midnight-black tailored suit that made him look completely lethal. His tie was loosened slightly at his throat, and his dark hair was slightly mussed, as if he had been running his hands through it all day. His expression was a terrifying mask of absolute, unyielding fury.

What could Damian have said to him? Robbins walked into Damian's office after he summoned him. "Did you give the bodyguard the cheque?" I asked. "Yes, Dr. Damian, he was so grateful," Robbins said. "He's the worst looking of them all, and I know he really needs the money," I said. "I hope things went fine between you and Seth Nicole?" Robbins asked. "Very fine! I'm so proud of myself, I've never felt this good," I smiled. "I'm glad" Robbins smiled too.

She wore her signature smile and waved as everyone hollered her name. She was wearing a light blue gown with silt all the way to her knees. The gown followed her as she walked into the hall. Ria looked around looking for Damien and did not see him. “Did he have to come late?” Ria asked as someone tapped her. Ria turned and saw Damien looking at her with a smile. Ria chuckled. “You’ve been at my back all along?” Ria asked and Damien nodded. “I think so,” Damien said as Ria shook her head, the smile on her face getting wider. Damien was clothed in a navy blue suit, his shirt was buttoned all the way to his neck and with his hands inside his pockets, he looked like a young CEO.

Sighing she closed her eyes concentrating on her breathing to calm herself down and began counting in her head. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder turning to see who it was her breath caught in her throat. There, dressed in a powder blue T-shirt, black dress pants and a long coat was none other than Damien Herricks. Contradictory to his usual gangster look he seemed much more polished with his hair swept to the side. "Robin" Ah, the sound of his voice sounded much different in real life as opposed to through the phone. It was far more groggy and the accent he carried only highlighted its base. Looking down at his hand she saw a single light purple lilac rose, the flower symbol for firs

Damian’s voice cuts through the air—cool, clipped, and perfectly expected. I don’t turn immediately. When I do, I find them exactly as I knew they would be: Rosalina nestled between the twins, all three dressed in matching gold and black. Coordinated. Unified. A perfect little trio. True mates. Their outfits shimmer in the candlelight—Lucian in black and gold embroidery, Damian in a matching cut, and Rosalina glowing in silk that mirrors them both. Matching jewelry. Matching smiles. They could have stepped out of a painting.