#damian wayne image

[fallen-jpg]

wanted to draw some leather jackets. these are all jason's

[sakuravalenp]

He's supposed to be invincible - DC X DP

Just something random that came to my mind.

So, Danny ends up being adopted/fostered by Bruce just months before Damian arrives at the manor, the how and why is your choice, but the GIW is still a threat. 

Now, Danny catches Damian attacking Tim the first time and instead of telling the rest of the family or scolding Damian, he went lik:

“You haven't even defeated me, and you think you have a right to attack Tim? Get in line, kid.”

And so Damian understands that to get the right to fight against Tim, he needs to get rid of Danny first. Climb the power pyramid, if you will. And so, Damian starts his assassination attempts against Danny. 

But here's the thing: Danny is making absolutely no effort to stop him, he just takes the attempts. The first time, Damian successfully stabs Danny, and goes to announce his victory over Danny to his father. Bruce rushes to Danny, worried for his safety, and finds him just chilling there, not a single drop of blood or injury. Damian is gapping.

“Oh yeah, the kid beat me in a round of hide and seek. He’s pretty good.”

Bruce is relieved and pats Damian’s head, not noticing his utter confusion. And so a cartoon-like montage starts: Damian attacks Danny and claims victory, but Danny is completely fine, and says Damian won at some random game. Everyone thinks the two are super close, and that Damian’s excitement about winning is super cute. 

Eventually, positive enforcement wears Damian down, because everyone congratulates him and gives him affection for winning the “stupid things” Danny comes up with. He gradually calms down and integrates pretty well. Danny does end up being his closest sibling because he’s the only one that actually knows all of Damian. The only one Damian could attack with zero restraint and still be treated the same. 

But the important thing here is: Danny becomes an invincible figure in Damians mind. He could be stabbed, decapitated, poisoned, and still come back like nothing happened.

So surely, when Phantom is shot out of the sky by a Blood Blossom, surely he’ll just stand back up in a minute like always. Surely, he’s just waiting to get back to the cave to pretend like he always did for Damian. Surely, he’s just putting on a show on the medbay. 

But hours go by, and he’s still pretending. Still looking pale. Still keeping his eyes closed.

Damian doesn’t understand why he hasn’t bounced back yet. He should be okay by now. Alfred is moving around, changing the IV,dabbing Danny’s head with a damp cloth. There’s commotion outside as everyone is trying to get an antidote.

But this shouldn’t be happening. 

Danny is invincible.

Danny should be back to normal already.

So Damian starts shaking Danny. Screaming to stop pretending and tell them he was beaten in some stupid game again. To open his eyes already. 

Father is pulling him away, trying to calm him down, but he keeps struggling in his arms, because he’s getting Danny to wake up. 

And he doesn’t notice the tears falling down his face until he runs out of energy, and all that’s left is hiccuping in his father’s arms.

...

So… yeah, that’s what my mind supplied today while on the bus :)

Maybe one day I'll write it, but I don't have time, so I would love to see someone else's take on it.

[prlssprfctn]

Don't think about little Jason Todd, who was curling in his sleep around Catherine, who was passed out, when he could. Don't think about a freshly orphaned Jason Todd, who kept curling in a little ball, trying to warm himself. Definitely don't imagine him doing the same in the Wayne Manor, except this time he curled around pillow or a small Nightwing plush his brother gifted him. And definitely don't imagine Talia searching for little Damian frantically, only to find Jason, curling around a toddler in his restless dreams. And maybe don't imagine Jason continuing to do the same in the solitude of his apartment, despite being all strong and huge.

Just don't.

[tiffycat]

Sir you are pushing 30, you don't get to meow

[robintimate]

I know fanon Tim is practically like, the opposite of canon Tim, and the coffee addiction is one of the notoriously opposite things considering canonically Tim doesn't even like coffee, but the fact that it was started because Tim would fall asleep in places?? like, there is such a golden opportunity here and ppl decided to project their coffee addiction on him instead???

Cause imagine Tim who falls asleep anywhere. Tim who works and works and decides that he'll go to sleep after this one last bit but accidentally falls asleep in front of the Batcomputer. Tim who is found by Bruce, who goes all soft, picks him up and takes him up to his bedroom.

Imagine Tim having movie nights with Jason with the worst horror film that Jason arranged just to see Tim get scared except he doesn't react to any of the jumpscares because he fell asleep 5 minutes in. Jason doesn't know if he should be offended or impressed about the whole thing.

Imagine Tim just dozing off while he's trapping Damian so that he can't stab him and Damian doesn't realise until

Dick: ...and I wish you would stop but you– Tim?

Tim: ....

Dick: Is he... is he actually asleep?

Damian who has been trapped in his hands the whole time and thought that Tim was also listening to the lecture is more furious than ever because how dare Tim leave him alone in this.

New plan to murder Tim in his sleep coming up soon. (Because how dare he let himself be so vulnerable around Damian!)

[clemmmmmmmmmmmmmm]

“Freak like me…,”

Batboys x reader headcannons

sorry yall😔i keep disappearing,i have like major writing block and my husband and i are going to renew our vows.We got married at 16(I DONT RECOMMEND) and we have been dating since we were 12, i turn 20 this year😭😭😭

ANYWAYS LEAVE REQUESTS💛

BRUCE WAYNE

🏛 Favorite Place:

-His master bedroom — but specifically the bed with fresh sheets and dim lighting. He’s private and a control freak, and intimacy is something he treasures deeply.

-However… he’s absolutely taken you in the Batcave. Against the Batmobile. Once. Maybe twice. But he’ll never admit it.

⏱ Quickies?

-Not his favorite. Bruce prefers drawn-out, sensual, controlled sessions.

-That said, if it’s been a rough mission or he’s overwhelmed, he will pull you into a dark hallway, growl in your ear, and lose his mind for 5 minutes.

-“This isn’t enough—but I need you right now.”

⸻

Dick Grayson

Favorite Place:

- Rooftops. Balconies. Anywhere high up with a view of the city lights. There’s something about the rush, the stars, and you.

-Also? Showers. He loves the intimacy of washing each other, and then not staying clean for long.

⏱ Quickies?

-100% yes. He loves them. Elevators, bathrooms, pulled-into-a-closet vibes.

-He’ll whisper something filthy in your ear during a gala and have you against the wall five minutes later.

- Very into spontaneous affection. “Hey, you looked too good. I had to.”

⸻

Jason Todd

Favorite Place:

-His apartment — couch, kitchen counter, bed, wall. But more than anything, his safe space is wherever you feel safe.

-Has a real soft spot for post-mission sex in the shower or while still half-dressed. There’s something healing about it.

⏱ Quickies?

-Loves them when they’re emotionally charged. Not a fan of purely mechanical quickies — he wants a reason.

-Angry? Stressed? Jealous? Then yes, he’ll have you bent over in a parking garage before you can say “Red Hood.”

-He’s rougher during those moments, but always with aftercare. “That was fast. But you still okay, baby?”

⸻

Tim Drake

Favorite Place:

-His office chair. That boy works too damn much, and nothing clears his head like you straddling him mid-research.

-Bonus: the Wayne Tower penthouse library. Something about the shelves, the silence, and you on the table just does it for him.

⏱ Quickies?

-He likes the idea of quickies more than he actually enjoys them. They usually stress him out unless he’s really in the moment.

-f it’s an early-morning before-you-leave-for-work kind of thing? He’s all in.

-But mostly he’s a slow burn kind of guy. Think intense eye contact, slow hands, whispered “God, you’re beautiful.”

⸻

Damian Wayne

Favorite Place:

-His room, with the doors locked and the drapes drawn. Damian is private, intense, and not one for public displays.

⏱ Quickies?

-Not a fan. He hates the rushed feeling — he wants full focus, precision, and control.

-But if you challenge him, tease him, or catch him off-guard? He might grit his teeth, grab your wrist, and make it happen fast, rough, and possessive.

-Afterward, though? “Next time, we do this properly. You deserve more than just that.”

[dieubius]

made these a while ago, figured they were tumblr worthy teehee 🤭

[yourlocalsurrealism]

So this low-key makes no sense but:

Bruce has a metagene. It is that any cape he wears has a pocket dimension. The robins have an uncontrollable urge to hide in it.

It doesn't even need to be a legitimate cape. He was playing superheroes with a besheet when he was seven, and he pulled a medieval battle axe out of it. The Wayne's have never owned a medieval battle axe. Alfred, Thomas and Martha were extremely confused and concerned about it's origins.

Yes, I know Bruce isn't a meta. But it'd be really funny if he was. Especially with such a specific, weird power. That's how he fits all the stuff in his cape.

Like, snacks, and weapons, and Tim swears that one time he saw him just make a whole motorcycle appear from it.

Dick was cold on patrol once, and Bruce opened his cape, and just thought nothing of the fact that Dick just disappeared into it, dismissed it as a result of a really heavy warm cape.

Dick found himself in a warm, cozy, dark place, and immediately decided to go there as much as possible. He then told Jason, who didn't believe him at first but then found himself in the pocket dimension and was like "fuck yeah this is awesome".

He didn't tell Tim, and Tim didn't feel as if he was allowed to ask Batman to hide under his cape even when he was cold, so it took several years of vigilante-ing before Tim figured it out.

Damian didn't really have any chances to hide in Bruce's cape before he was lost in time, the cape didn't work the same for dick, and by the time Bruce was back, Damian believed he was too old for such childish things as seeking shelter in his father's cape.

The robins just think that Bruce got his cape enchanted somehow, and just didn't care to tell them in typical Bruce fashion. Bruce has no idea about this and is just happy that his kids like him enough to feel comfortable with him during patrol.

[batfamhastwitter]

Part 27! Damian is defo a bit of a conspiracy theorist, I don't think that you can have Bruce as a father and not be at least a little bit of one

Prev ~ Beginning ~ Next

[daydreamerwonderkid]

Big bird protecting his baby bird :3

[bbbbbbbbatman]

Once Batman has revealed his identity to the JL, and after some strong encouragement from Superman and Wonder Woman, Bruce decides to try to start being a bit more "personable" with the rest of league. They've been colleagues for a decade and he trusts them all, and according to Clark and Diana this means there's no need for his whole mysterious "shadow of the night" bit, so he invites the league to dinner at the manor.

It is raining heavily, and even though it's not that late, it's nearly pitch dark but for the frequent lightning strikes. The league arrives together at Wayne Manor and the wrought iron gates stretch upward before them, ending in spikes at the top with ivy overgrown across them. They stand there, uncomfortable, wet, a bit weirded out, wondering how they're supposed to get passed the gates.

"This is creepy, right?" Hal says. "It's not just me?"

A voice. "Hello." As the league turns to the sound, thunder claps loud enough to startle everyone as lightning strikes, illuminating a small child standing on the other side of the gates that was definitely not there a second ago. He stands motionless under an umbrella, seemingly unbothered by the rain, expression vaguely irritated, and his eyes seem to flash green in the light. "I have been instructed to escort you inside."

The child doesn't move in any way but the gates slowly swing open, the creaking sounds sound straight out of a horror movie. Once they are fully opened, the boy turns and starts walking down the path without a word.

The league, some members quite freaked out at this point, follow him after exchanging some looks. They round a bend in the path and the manor comes into view. It is a massive dark structure, rising from the ground. Another lightning strike illuminates pointed spires, jagged edges, and it's gloomy, gothic nature. The sound of bats shrieking can be heard in the distance over the rain.

The league finally arrives at the front door, cold, wet, and thoroughly discomfited. An old man, a butler, looking out of time, opens the door, the child disappears inside. The butler welcomes everyone inside graciously but with a distant politeness. Despite the appearance of the exterior, the inside is well lit with warm light and seems inviting, though ostentatious. The league is relieved.

Until another massive lightning strike and thunder clap cuts the power off and the room is pitch black.

"Oh, you're here," a deep voice says from somewhere up above. No sooner are the words out than another lightning strike illuminates a dark, hulking figure on the staircase that was also definitely not there a second ago. At least two people scream.

Bruce is wildly confused as to why his guests are screaming, he didn't think any of them were afraid of the dark? The back up generator kicks on and the lights come back on and everybody seems to calm down. The rest of the dinner seems to go well (as well as a dinner can with the justice league and all of Bruce's kids) but strangely, to Bruce's confusion, it somehow only made his "spooky" reputation worse. He's not really sure why the whole league seems to think he lives in a haunted house.

[ky-landfill]

[bthemistake]

They're Just Babies Leading Babies

Psst!

While you're here, pls consider donating to the Palestine Children's Relief Fund <3

[Image Description

Fanart of the characters Damian Wayne al Ghul and Maya Ducard, specifically from the Robin, Son of Batman: Year of Blood and Dawn of the Demons, in black and white.

Maya is hunched over, carrying Damian in a piggyback, with a wide smile on her face. Her outfit is her Nobody suit; a sleeveless white bodysuit with black accents, the main being a stretched wide V shape on her chest, with full gloves reaching almost entirely up her arm. Her black hair is loose and messy as it grazes her shoulders, kept out of her face with a plain white headband.

Damian is displaying the opposite of Maya's joy and sits on her back with a stoic and forced-emotionless expression. He is pointing 'onwards' to direct her, likely what Maya is actually laughing at. He is wearing his Robin costume; a long black cape with a yellow lining, a red sleeveless tunic, with a dark undershirt. His boots and elbow-high gloves are a matching green.

The drawing is rather simple and rushed, mostly a warm up to keep me from going rusty.

End of Image Description.]

[yandere-wishes]

Bleeding flower petals

Yandere! Damian Wayne x Posion! Reader

I've started reading the Vegetarian by Han Kang whilst also reading the Posion Ivy solo series... So this monstrosity is the brain child of that...

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The youngest bat is the scariest. The black-haired menace that blends so seamlessly into the night. He stalks you like prey, like horticulturists stalk weeds. He attacks so impatiently ready to cut you down. And yet sometimes, just sometimes, you swear you see a glimpse of fascination sparkle through his eyes. Like a question, he's too afraid to ask.

But is the inquiry aimed at you?

Or himself?

You are not human, your mother reminds you of that. Whispers softly into your hair making flowers sprout from your scalp, blooming between hairs. You are not human, and your kind does not fear the creatures of the night. Neither bats nor birds may spark fear within your green hearts.

But then why does your body quiver when the Boy-Wonder lands too close?

Why do your lips long to scream and your legs wish to scramble when he touches your skin?

Your mother serves roasted quail with toasted tarantulas and a side of bone marrow butter with seared foie salad.

Instead, all you see is Robin sitting passively on your plate. You feel him staring at you, hear him scream when you chew on the leg meat. You slip the flesh between your teeth, the chewing sounds far too gruesome, the scent suffocating. You try to swallow instead of gag. The bird's meat falls down your throat. You can feel his grappling hook sink into your throat, he's climbing back up. He's going to hurt you again. You try to drown him down the more meat, chewed into mush.

Stay down, Stay down you beg.

There's blood in your throat, thick and sordid like swallowing the sun raw. It leaks into your lungs drip by drip. Suffocating you from within. You cough, your body shakes, chest convulsing, harder and harder trying to spill out the blood. You choke down a pitcher of water. Still, he's inside you. Feel him rattling the bones of your ribcage demanding to be freed.

You apologize under your breath.

He pulls at your thorns, shoves them into the pockets of his uniform. You hate the way he makes you bleed the way his tongue laps at the wounds and smears them across your skin. Aren't Robins meant to be pollinators? Sure they aren't as devoted to the craft as bees and butterflies. But you'd prefer the clumsy job to the way he mauls you.

Maybe this is his way of pollinating you, ludicrous thought that it may be. Maybe he has a reason for all the parts of you that he steals.

Is this what a kiss feels like? It's like being overwatered, your roots drowning in a good deed. His lips are soft like flowerbeds, his fingers digging into your flesh. Damian pushes you off the building edge, you hear your mother scream as you fall. Locked between his arms. Your body lands in something soft, petals tickling your bruised flesh. Still, Robin refuses to let you go. Still, his lips melt into yours.

You hear your mother's voice, but she is too far away. The little bird has snatched you away. You lay helpless within his beak. You hear him mutter sweet words into your hair, but his words can't make flowers bloom. No matter how many times he repats

"I love you"

[batsuggestion]

bruce to his kids when patrol does not go accordingly

[clemmmmmmmmmmmmmm]

So…stop me then

Exotic dancer!reader x Loa damian

Warnings:Smut,Spanking,Degrading,Fingering,Oral(Male)

The flicker of torchlight danced along the sandstone walls of the League’s stronghold, casting long shadows as night cloaked the desert outside. Deep within the compound, past layers of stone corridors and guarded passageways, lay Damian Wayne’s private chambers—sacred, silent, and off-limits to nearly everyone.Except her.She moved like smoke, veils whispering against her skin as she stepped into his sanctuary. An exotic dancer, hand-selected by the League’s inner circle not just for her performance, but for the sway she held over men trained to resist temptation. But Damian wasn’t just any man. And this visit wasn’t sanctioned.

His back was to her, stripped to the waist, scars etched like battle scripts down his spine. He sensed her presence instantly—no one could sneak up on the Demon’s Heir—but he didn’t turn. Not yet.

“You weren’t on tonight’s list,” he murmured.

Her smile was slow, teasing. “I wasn’t supposed to be.”

That got his attention. He pivoted, eyes dark as obsidian, sharp and hungry. A quiet tension crackled in the air—danger laced with want. She approached him with the grace of a blade drawn in silk, slipping out of her sheer wrap until it puddled on the stone floor.

His jaw tensed. “You know this is forbidden.”

She stepped close, barely a breath between them. “So stop me.”

He didn’t.

In an instant, his mouth crashed against hers—hard, consuming. Hands gripped her waist, pulling her into him, until she could feel the heat of his chest against her bare skin. She tangled her fingers in his dark hair, moaning softly as his lips moved to her neck, biting just enough to leave a mark.His hand slid down, exploring the curve of her thigh, then slipping between her legs—deliberate, skilled. Fingers worked slow at first, teasing, until she was trembling in his arms, lips parted with a gasp that he swallowed with another hungry kiss.

“Damian…” she breathed, clutching his shoulders.

“Say it again,” he growled, voice low, primal.

“Damian.”

It was dangerous. Reckless. A betrayal of every code he’d been taught.

Not tonight.

The chambers were dim, lit only by the flicker of torches and the low, infernal glow of a brazier. Smoke curled lazily in the air, scented with sandalwood and something sharper—like heat and control. Damian’s private sanctuary wasn’t just where he slept. It was where he trained, where he commanded, and where no one entered without purpose.

Yet she stood there anyway, back arched beneath sheer fabric, veils clinging to sweat-kissed skin. She knew exactly how to present herself: demure at a glance, defiant underneath.”You’re not permitted in here,” Damian said, voice flat, but eyes dragging slowly down her frame.She stepped forward. “Then punish me.”The air between them snapped tight.Damian moved in a flash, grabbing her wrist and spinning her around, pressing her chest to the stone wall. One hand gripped her hair, tugging it back to bare her throat, while the other slipped beneath her veil and cupped between her thighs.”Soaking,” he murmured, breath hot against her ear. “You like breaking rules, don’t you?”She moaned as his fingers rubbed slow, deliberate circles through the wet lace. “Only yours.”He chuckled darkly. “On your knees.”She dropped instantly, veils puddling around her.

Damian undid his pants, cock hard and already leaking. She looked up at him with a knowing smirk, then took him into her mouth—slow and deep, teasing him with long licks and hollowed cheeks until he hissed and tangled his fingers in her hair, guiding her faster.Just before he tipped over the edge, he yanked her back with a low growl.”Face the bed. Hands on the post.”She obeyed, crawling onto the silk-covered mattress and gripping the carved wood. Behind her, she heard him move—then snap. The leather bite of his belt coiled around her wrists, binding them to the headboard. Her breath quickened.”You said you wanted punishment,” he said, trailing fingers down her spine. “Don’t expect mercy.”He grabbed a silk blindfold from the side table, slipping it over her eyes. Darkness bloomed. Every sound—his breath, the rustle of his clothes—became sharper. When his fingers slid back between her thighs, it was electric.Two slipped inside her, then three—stretching, curling, fucking her open slow and rough. She moaned, bucking back, but he kept her right on the edge, never letting her fall over it.

“Please…” she gasped.”Please what?”

“Touch me. Fuck me. Something.”

He spanked her, once—sharp, and then rubbed the sting away.“I decide when,” he said. “And how.”She was shaking by the time he finally pushed into her, slow and deliberate. He fucked her hard, hand around her throat just tight enough to make her gasp and clench. Her walls fluttered around him, slick and needy, every thrust a tease and a threat.

“You want to come?” he rasped against her ear.

“Yes—”

“Beg.”

She did. Shamelessly. Moaning his name like a mantra, legs trembling as she begged to be ruined.Only then did he let her break. Her orgasm hit hard, body arching against the binds, helpless as wave after wave rolled through her. Damian came with a curse, thrusting deep, spilling inside her with a growl of satisfaction.When it was over, he leaned in and unfastened the belt, pulling off her blindfold. Her eyes met his—still burning, even in the afterglow.”That wasn’t punishment,” she whispered, voice raw.

He smirked. “No, it wasn’t. That comes next.”

She lay there, limbs slack, thighs still twitching from the orgasm he’d pulled out of her—and denied three times before giving in. But Damian wasn’t done. Not even close.He leaned over her, breath hot against her cheek. “Did I say you were finished?”She blinked, still hazy. “I—”

“Wrong answer.”

A sharp crack echoed through the chamber as his hand met her ass again, harder this time. She gasped, the sting sharp and arousing. Damian gripped her hips, flipping her onto her back, her wrists still bound in front of her now with the same belt.”You come without permission again,” he said, dragging two fingers down her stomach, “and I’ll make you spend the rest of the night begging for release with nothing but my thigh between your legs.”

Her lips parted.

“Would you like that?” he teased, nudging her entrance with his cock again—already half-hard, slick with both of them.

She nodded, flushed. “Yes, sir.”

That earned her a slow kiss, possessive and filthy, tongue pushing past her lips like he owned her mouth too. His hand slipped up, wrapping around her throat—not tight this time, but firm. Controlling. Perfect.

“You’re learning.”

Then he reached for something by the bed—a small lacquered box, one she hadn’t noticed before. He opened it slowly, letting her hear the sound of leather sliding over silk. A crop. Slim. Black. Precise.Her breath hitched.Damian tapped it lightly against her inner thigh. “Color?”

“Green.”The first strike landed sharp and stinging on the inside of her thigh. Then another—slightly higher. Not cruel, just firm. He watched her squirm, soaking in every gasp, every twitch, every wide-eyed flicker of arousal.“Look at you,” he murmured, voice silk-wrapped steel. “Tied up. Marked. Begging. And all it took was a little discipline.”The crop traced the line of her folds—then struck down with a snap that made her cry out, pleasure and pain mixing into something dizzying. She was dripping, wrecked and aching. He knew it.“Want to come again?”

“Yes—God, yes.”Damian knelt, gripping her thighs and spreading her wide. “Then stay still. Don’t move. Don’t speak.”And then his mouth was on her—tongue relentless, precise, dragging moans from her throat like a musician plucking strings. She writhed, struggling against the bindings, thighs shaking.

He stopped. Pulled back.

“You moved.”

She whimpered.

“Try again.”

Again. And again. He edged her mercilessly, dragging her to the brink and yanking it away with a smug look every time she gasped too loudly or clenched the bedsheets.By the time he finally slid inside her again, she was begging, nearly crying from how bad she needed it. He fucked her slow this time, holding eye contact, lips brushing hers with every thrust.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, pressing his palm flat over her belly. “Right here. Say it.”” I’m yours,” she gasped. “All yours.”And when he finally gave the word, she shattered—screaming his name like a vow, body convulsing around him. He spilled inside her a moment later, kissing her hard as they both came undone.