Damon Prison World Pancakes Novels & Stories

“I don’t know. Name your price.” He crossed the room in quick strides, his hands jammed into his pockets. “And tell me, do you have money? How much do you have?” I felt my cheeks color with embarrassment. “I can work and pay you off. It’s not a big deal to me.” Don Damon scoffed. “Too bad. Even if you worked for the rest of your life, you still wouldn’t be able to pay for your freedom.” He leaned down to meet my gaze on the same eye level. “You belong to me, Iris. Your life would be easier if you just got that into your skull already.”

she announced proudly. “Oh, you’re back,” Alaric said with a quick glance in my direction, his voice warm but brisk. “We’re making pancakes!” He didn’t linger for conversation, disappearing back into the kitchen where the faint clink of utensils and the hiss of the stove could be heard. “Pancakes and ice cream for dinner, Dad? Really?” Damon’s voice carried a note of disbelief, though it was softened by amusement. “You never complained when you were little,” Alaric replied with an easy confidence, hefting a massive tray of golden pancakes from the stove. “Want some? I made enough to feed a small army.”

“I want to cook something for Damian, too. How about we do it together?” Kayoko nodded enthusiastically. “Good idea! Let's get started.” The two of them began to prepare the ingredients for the pancakes. Kayoko told them various things about Damian's childhood, including his strange solitary habits. “Little Damian was very quiet,” Kayoko said as she stirred the batter. “But he always had a way to protect the people he cared about, even if it meant making sacrifices.” Miya listened attentively, feeling like she was getting to know another side of her husband. The pancakes were done, and they set the table eagerly.

He had stocked up enough that she could make him some pancake, she knew it might come across as rude to mess with other people's belongings while they were not there, but she could not help herself and the earlier they left the place, the more time they had to explore the city. When Damian walked out of the bathroom, he was dumbfounded when he saw two plates of pancake ready on his dining table. When he asked her what she was doing, she told him she was fixing both of them some breakfast before they went as if she was doing him a favor, which she was.

"Do not look at me like that. I am trying my best." Ethan continued to look at him in pure embarrassment. "Enough," Damien said. "Go upstairs." Ethan did not move. "Now please." Ethan slid off the counter reluctantly, he shuffled his feet toward the door. Candace stepped back, she hid herself , and waited until the small footsteps had gone all the way up the stairs and had disappeared entirely. Then she returned to her position. Damien had his phone out. He pulled up YouTube, typed a pancake tutorial, and began watching. His expression as he watched the tutorial with intense focus. He watched three videos, at the fourth video he tilted the screen slightly as if the angle would help.

Just as I was about to get out of bed and investigate, the door creaked open. Then, there stood Damian, wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a fitted black T-shirt, a tray in his hands. He looked utterly unbothered, as if last night hadn’t turned my entire world upside down. On the tray were fluffy pancakes stacked high, crispy bacon, fresh berries, and a steaming cup of coffee. “For you,” he said casually, stepping into the room. “For me?” I repeated, my voice laced with disbelief. I couldn’t recall a single time he’d brought breakfast to me in bed before. Hell, we usually ate at the dining room table like civilized strangers.

"I don't even remember what normal feels like." Something flickers in his eyes. Sympathy? Understanding? Hard to tell with him. We eat in silence. Well, I eat. He watches. It should feel weird but it doesn't. His presence is solid, steady—like a tree you can lean against and know it won't fall. Halfway through my second pancake, Maya crashes in. "Oh good, you're up!" She grabs a pancake off my plate, shoves half in her mouth. "Mmph. Damian, the patrols are back. Nothing from Bloodmoon. Caden's apparently licking his wounds."

The morning light streamed through the windows of their apartment as Elena stood in the kitchen, flipping pancakes while soft music played from her phone. Damien walked in behind her, freshly showered, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. “Smells amazing,” he murmured, voice still rough with sleep. Elena leaned back into him, smiling. “Leo’s going to demand chocolate chips in his.” As if on cue, Leo came running into the kitchen in his dinosaur pajamas, hair sticking up in every direction. “Pancakes! Dad, are you making the smiley face ones again?”

“The night is black, without a moon.” “And if you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice. What’s next, Mike? You gonna rickroll me?” “Over pancakes?” Mike grabbed the keys to his car, a new Jeep Grand Cherokee. Loaded. Paid cash. Dylan’s eyes lit up. “Jeddy’s pancakes? They’re open twenty-four hours. I could go for some chipotle maple sausage crepes.” Ugh. “Whatever happened to a simple short stack?” “You are so vanilla.” Mike arched an eyebrow dramatically in response.

“Luckily, my mom was in a good mood and offered to make me some pancakes. Want some?” “I would love some… Erm… Kim, you don’t mind, do you?” Kim had to turn to me or else her daughter would get suspicious. Putting on a brave face, she looked over to me. “Sure, I’d be happy to!” I flashed her a grin, one that April didn’t see, one that broadcast what I really hungered for. Seeing that look in my eye, knowing what I wanted to do, Kim turned her attention back to the stove and began mixing up more batter, trying to keep calm so that April wouldn’t sense anything while she prepared food for the man that had raped her. I watched her while she worked, her tight denims making her ass pop. The panca