Damian Desmond Fanart 소설 & 이야기

The Queen turned to the King, her mouth opening to argue, but his raised hand silenced her. Damien’s shadow fell over me as he crouched slightly, his voice low enough for only me to hear. “Don’t look, little flame,” he murmured, the words gentle despite the tension in his tone. “You don’t need to see this.” The trapdoors fell with a sickening thud. My father, my mother, my brother—gone. A scream tore from my throat, raw and uncontrollable. I collapsed to the ground, my legs giving out beneath me. I didn’t need to see it; the sound alone was enough to shatter what was left of my heart.

Sandra Desmond is not asking for advice but announcing. If he only eats with his mother, he can save time; after all, a human has to eat, but... 'Just you and me?' Damian Desmond asked back. 'Not. There's Loona Richart too.' Indeed not just a meal for two. 'Mom, you don't have to try to hook me up with her; I'm not interested.' Damian Desmond coldly refused. Some time ago, she arbitrarily informed acquaintances that he and Loona Richart were dating, which he just laughed at and didn't care about.

"If you wanted to ruin my life and my reputation, have the guts to do it right without having to spread false lies. That's beneath you, and you know that." "Look at me!" Damien growled. His eyes were fueled with fiery red. His anger was getting to him and Diana stood there waiting for him to unleash the demon in himself. " I am the one you came to see. The one you gave disappointed and disgraced and you suddenly want me to take on a role for you? What is this drama? A cosplay festival?"

He replied. Win beamed. “So humble! Well, even still…” she rumbled on. Damien bit his lips trying to hold it all in. Earlier he wanted to cut her short with '… think highly of me but please go away for now’ but he deemed it rude to say to an enthusiastic fan. Also, Anya wouldn’t appreciate his tone with her friend. Shortly, Arya came running towards them. Damien hid his excited face. “Hey! You two! You met already?” Arya asked.

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He moved with agility, he had a cunning mind, and he could adapt to different situations. Lord Vedastus would not let Damian handle normal missions. Since Lord Vedastus had sent Damian out this time, one could see how much he cared about this mission and how difficult it would be to complete. Damian looked at Thomas. He knew this guy. Of course he knew. How could Damian possibly not know Lord Vedastus' top rival? He nodded at Thomas. “I’m Damian Coull from Art Trading Corporation. Mr. Mayo, I never thought we would meet in the Seymour family manor so coincidentally.”

I have always heard from Victor how arrogant Damien was, and how he thinks he is better than anybody else. Well he is. “I raised that boy better,” Sandra commented. I laughed. The interviewer cleared his throat then laughed. “I AM ASKING FOR THE FANS, IS YOUR GIRLFRIEND GOING TO BE AT THE GALA?. OR IS SHE HERE AT THE GAME?. STILL ASKING FOR THE FANS,” the interviewer asked. Damien smiled and looked up at the camera. “NO, SHE IS NOT HERE FOR THE GAME AND YES, MY GIRLFRIEND IS GOING TO BE AT THE GALA AS MY DATE…,” Damien answered, when he answered the arrogant look in his eyes was replaced with a softer look.

I didn't know what I was expecting but when Dominic opened the laptop and showed me a mug shot, my eyes widened. He looked to be in his late twenties, sporting a dark buzz cut and a neatly trimmed beard. He had a black eyebrow piercing and I could see the tattoos sneaking up his neck stopping just below his jawline. Lucas was smirking with his head tilted up slightly, almost mockingly and that alone told me the man feared no one. "Holy shit, he's fine." I blurted without thinking. The laptop was slammed closed and I jumped. Yurik let out a loud laugh and shook his head.

And just on cue, the door creaks open and I spin, still clutching the towel around me. Damian walks in like he owns the air in the room, casual and unhurried, his black shirt rolled at the sleeves, jaw sharp enough to cut glass, and a smirk that makes my skin crawl. “Good morning, beautiful mate,” he says with a cruel tilt of his head, eyes flicking to the box. “You like pink lingerie, don't you? Go ahead. Put it on.” My blood turns to ice. “What…?” I whisper. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he walks to the corner of the room, pulls out a sleek black tripod, and mounts a camera on it facing the bed.

She didn't recognise the band. "Who is this?" she asked. "This is my sex playlist," Damien admitted with a cheesy grin. "I love this song. Ardent Anthem by Desa." "You didn't put that one on my phone," she complained, enjoying it so far. "It's not on Spotify," he explained. "You can find it on YouTube." The singer wasn't especially great, but something about his lispy voice was incredibly sexy. She imagined him looking like Damien as she listened to the lyric that described sexual acts with poetic beauty.