#aviaryverse

[damicest]

working on things.... planning. plotting.

[damicest]

New Strings (2671 words) by noctstate Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DCU, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Underage Sex Relationships: Jason Todd/Damian Wayne Characters: Jason Todd, Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Pseudo-Incest, Top Damian Wayne, Bottom Jason Todd, Underage Jason Todd, Batkids Age Reversal | Reverse Robins (DCU), Blow Jobs, Pool Sex, Minor Tim Drake/Damian Wayne, Incest Kink, League of Assassins Jason Todd, Damian Wayne is the Demon's Head, Grooming Series: Part 2 of Aviary Verse, Part 6 of JayDami Week 2026 Summary:

And yeah, sometimes Damian invites him to his bed, and sometimes he goes. Joining him naked in the bath, though. That’s… that’s a little more. That’s intimate.

Downright romantic if Jason squints a little and plays up the candles as anything more than functional.

(Can be read as a stand alone.)

Day 8 @jaydamiweek free day, used the bonus prompt "pool."

[damicest]

SO HARD TO PICK. BUT. Aviary Verse Interlude - JonDami pls??

WIP list tag game.

to be so real with you, there's going to be nothing to this fic beyond the snippet below but smut - i think when i was in the midst of world building for the verse, i couldn't help but to think of jon joining in (of course), because big hands wrapped around dami's tiny waist will always get me.

“No way you called me all the way out here just to show me — what, yourself? What kinda narcissistic…” Jon's voice trails off.

He squints between the two of them, eyes lingering on Dami sitting placidly in Damian's lap despite the immediate outburst, cheek resting on Damian's shoulder. He runs a soothing hand down Dami's back, traces the line of his most prominent scar down his spine, ending just above his tailbone, where his hand flattens. Spreads wide with a show of ownership.

“This a clone situation? You’ve always seemed the type.”

Damian rolls his eyes. “Don't be dramatic. No. He fell into our world from another. The other day, he was regaling to me the many adventures that he and an alternate you shared, it gave us an idea.”

“And that is?” Jon's nose scrunches. He's had more than his fair share of run-ins with alternate universes and colliding realities; has expressed disdain for the entire concept to Damian several times, but how to get across that this is different—

He stands, sliding his arm beneath Dami to support his weight. The boy hardly shifts, just grumbles his displeasure as a kitten might, little claws sinking in to grasp at Damian's clothing in turn. Damian only gives Jon a cursory glance before cutting towards one of the many branching halls from his receiving room. “And I will show you. Don't say that I am incapable of sharing.”

“Uh, pretty sure I can still say it. You're pretty possessive.” He complains, but does fall into step beside them. The bright shades of red and blue that make up his uniform seem to glow in the dimly lit halls.

Dami makes a noise, a little mmf, then, “he is the exact same, shaqiq.”

“He speaks! Wait. You've got him calling you his brother?”

“Then you're familiar with how much of a nuisance he is.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes.” Dami pauses, turning his head to look directly at Jon. “You're older, of course.”

“Oh, of course. An important difference.” He continues walking, but leans into their space. Jon has always had a poor sense of personal space. “And exactly how old are you?”

“Tt. Old enough.” Dami huffs his offense.

“I just mean… you're tiny. You're eating enough?” Jon squints up at Damian, then straightens himself back into standing. “You're feeding him?”

“You hero types are exhausting. Yes, I feed him. I was just a smaller at that age, Jonathan.”

“That — you know, that does make sense for you. Like the root of the complex?”

“I am this close to resending my invitation.”

“Well, gee, Dame. Hard to care when you haven’t even told me what this is all about.”

[damicest]

I would like to humbly present the concept of LOA!Damian dressing Robin!Damian in decorative chain "harnesses" so that he jingles softly when he walks and can't sneak around or surprise people, while also accentuating his scars and strength. Damian's having them fitted and designed special, he's using Dami as a display of wealth, as much as a complete show of ownership over another person. Particularly when he has what many people would mistake for an expensive clone, dressed up in gold and pearls and diamonds, sitting in his lap as he's holding court.

Most importantly though, Damian can tug him around so easily, because Dami wouldn't want the delicate chains to snap.

Pictures of what I mean below the cut, light nudity

[damicest]

cry for me was everything i needed atm. god damn.

yay!! i'm so glad you enjoyed it! if you peruse my aviaryverse tag there are a couple world-buildy posts for it, as well as a snippet from the sequel i'm slowly working on. it's featuring the more brudami aspect of loa!damian's fixation with the robins though, if that's your thing ♥️

[damicest]

Me when I want to prompt about dami getting kissed but my freak pervert mind keeps getting too distracted about dami being kissed 👅

However I am using my ultimate genius to decide which numbers work best for aviaryverse … damian making out with dami in front of Bruce … much to consider

Send a number and a ship!

His fingers dig into the soft skin beneath his younger self's jaw, tilting his face up, away from their father—he is pliant in Damian’s hand, green eyes understanding, accepting. Bruce's anger echoes in both of their minds, words spoken in and laced with poison.

A dagger held to his most sensitive pressure points.

You're not my son.

Pulling Dami into a kiss is well-treaded territory; soft lips part without argument, welcoming Damian inside as if it is where he was always meant to be.

He tastes like the tea they shared just before, spiced and warm.

He tastes sweet, juxtaposing the bitterness boiling hotly in his blood.

Dami's hands press to his sides, twisting in the fabric of his shirt. Damian's free hand slides down the slope of his back, resting on the curve of his ass, tugging the smaller body higher in his lap.

You're worse than Ra's.

Bruce doesn't make a noise, but Damian can hear the rattle of his restraints. Through lowered eyelashes, he can see Bruce's averted gaze, his chest stilled with a held breath. Damian licks into Dami's mouth, hoping to produce an even greater reaction. More anger. More vitriol.

More cracks in Bruce's carefully crafted veneer that he can push his fingers into like an open wound and pry wider for his own satisfaction. He settles for dragging whatever noises he can from Dami for now. Making Bruce watch as he plucks whatever perceived innocence he sees inside the boy, fruit taken of the garden.

Fruit that Bruce would rather suffer for than take when it is so freely offered.

You're disgusting.

Damian will show him disgusting.

[damicest]

your damicest fic awoke something in meeee, god now I can’t stop thinking about Robin!Dami sitting so prettily on loa!Dami’s lap (cockwarming of course) as he holds court over the League, or really, just Robin!Dami dressed in these lovely clothes (often sheer for loa!Dami’s viewing pleasure) and draped in precious jewels because loa!Dami loves to spoil his pretty pet

And also, the little hints of size difference in the fic? I am eating it upppp, if you write more of them, I’d cry ngl, it’s just so good!!! Honestly I’d love to read loa!Dami’s POV regarding Robin!Dami, soaking in his worship and affection that he gives so willingly

I'm glad you enjoyed it, because I genuinely had so much fun writing it, too. I just!! Loa!Damian and the little version of himself that he groomed into the perfect pet, that he spoils and dotes on, dresses in the prettiest clothes and shiniest jewelry ♥️ but also really, really likes to push to his limit, because he knows the exact line, knows exactly what he'd be into, is something that's just so fun to work inside of.

Size difference is always lowk my favorite thing when writing a smaller Damian, especially when there's comic art of his whole torso being the same size as Batman's thigh??? TINY !!! I've gotta include it every time, I fear.

And good news, because I do fully plan on doing more in that universe (I have about 3k words written at the moment and I haven't even really gotten to the good stuff yet). It is from loa!Damian's POV, it's just not so much focused on him and Robin!Damian. It's more BruDami-centric, with loa!Damian's obsession with Bruce front and center, showing why he's trying to nab up all the Robins he can, doing to them what Bruce is too afraid to do, while acting like he doesn't care about the man at all. Then him using Robin!Damian as a proxy to fuck him lskdjfs (this will definitely fix all of loa!Damian's issues, FOR SURE)

[damicest]

giggling, kicking my feet even, as i start in on the second part of aviary verse and damian is egging bruce into punching him by talking about jason and tim 💞

“Our Timothy has a mouth on him, doesn’t he? How like him to play both sides against each other.”

“Tim isn’t our anything.”

“Right. My Timothy for the moment. What have you done to wound his fragile heart this time, Father?”

“If he hasn’t shared it with you–”

“Oh, I didn’t say that. I know full well that he didn’t want you to bring in Richard.” Damian tilts his chin, nods once more towards the plane. The Robin. “And yet you did, another sacrifice for your mission to chew up and spit out. How long until something happens to this one? Or is he your ongoing test of self-control in full effect?”

How far can he push, how much can he say, before Bruce reaches the end of his rope? If Damian could see his eyes, he would know the exact moment that his patience snaps. As it is, he is left with the scraps. His father’s mouth pressed into a line, his tight jaw. It reads as anger, of course, but there is an undercurrent of disgust. At Damian, certainly. But also at himself.

“His family died in front of him, Damian. He was angry. He needs guidance and direction. You of all people…”

Damian scoffs. He flips a dismissive hand, brushing off the topic of himself. “Me, of all people? You’re not here to justify your newest Robin to me, ‘of all people.’ I won’t give you Jason, nor will I give you my alternate. They are both well taken care of.”

Fingers wrap around Damian’s wrist, digging through the thick layers to hold him still. It is such a firm grip– “I’m not leaving without them. Don't make me fight you, Damian.”

“Then stay.” He leans in close, enough to feel the warmth of his father’s body through the icy air. In the midst of this storm, he curls his left hand around the back of Bruce’s neck. He can’t feel the material of his suit through his gloves, but it is stiff. Supportive like an exoskeleton. “I would let you fuck either of them. Both?”

Damian exhales hot breath against the exposed skin of Bruce's face. Wonders, if in all those recordings that this man keeps, if this moment could be one—he banishes the thought. “It could be our secret from your hero friends. How much you want to fuck your Robins–”

He is pushed away at the same moment his wrist released, as if he is an open flame. A hot coal that has been spat out and landed on bare skin. A half-step back, a half-step away, Damian can see that Bruce's skin has gone pale. Paler.

He continues, “Jason has a lovely mouth, Father. Can suck cock like a dream. Takes it just as well.”

Bruce's nostrils flare.

“The younger me… well. He would let you do anything so long as you speak to him sweetly. Would you like to hear about Timothy? How much he enjoys being tossed arou–”

The wind up of his punch isn't hidden. It's well telegraphed, but Damian does not dodge. Doesn't even flinch as it connects with his face. The flinch comes after, with the crack of his nose breaking, the blood that immediately begins to spill down his lips and chin. He leans forward, lets it fall bright red into the snow, staining a brilliant contrast before it melts though and vanishes.

Bruce's voice is frigid. Colder than the air, than the snow that has formed a crust in Damian's hair, the ice weighing down his eyelashes. “You’re disgusting. I will be taking them back with me, and you won’t see them again, not from the inside of a cell.”

Damian turns his head, spits a mixture of saliva and blood to the ground. The pain from his face thrums, radiating heat through his body. With the taste of iron at the back of his throat, he stands straight, drags the back of a hand across his mouth; smearing the blood more than wiping it away, it continues to drip freely.

“Fine. You can try.”