Damon Salvatore Aesthetic Novels & Stories

Damon wore formal black tailored close to his broad frame, silver threading along the cuffs and collar catching the moonlight with restrained brilliance. The fabric accentuated the strength in his shoulders, the deliberate confidence in his posture. His dark hair had been drawn back neatly, revealing the sharp line of his jaw and the calm authority etched into his features. He did not smile. He did not need to. His presence pressed outward, invisible yet undeniable, saturating the clearing with Alpha essence so potent that even the air felt heavier. Conversations stilled entirely as he approached the altar, every step measured and unhurried.

Moreover, as a jewelry professional, it was reasonable and not ostentatious even if she made a high bid. She was prepared to declare her presence among the mysterious buyers. To her surprise, as soon as she entered, she saw Damon sitting in the front row, upright and composed. Despite his black mask, she recognized him at first glance. He was in a white casual suit and sat with his legs crossed. He wasn't wearing a tie and was in a pair of slightly casual white leather shoes, with a notebook spread out on his knees. Damon had indeed lost a lot of weight compared to four years ago. Every time Celeste saw him, she couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

Savannah hissed venomously at him. "And what do you know about me?" Damien asked with a smirk. He grazed her knuckles softly. "You are a pathetic person. You always blame and prove others wrong but you haven't the guts to accept your mistakes. You never accept that you are a pathetic person more than anyone else." Savannah said with narrowed eyes. She was fuming in anger. Damien didn't like the words she used. Moreover, she was considering him wrong and Dominic right. Damien wasn't liking it a bit. He breathed heavily.

I cried out as pain radiated through my bones. “Don’t fucking touch her!” Domenico roared, appearing at the door with at least four of my grandfather’s men in tow. He shoved Salvatore back and turned to me. “Are you okay?” I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes as I held my face, but I managed to nod. Domenico’s eyes were slits as he looked to where Salvatore’s hand had been, then he turned back around. I could feel the rage racing to the surface, his muscles tightening. “You son of a bitch.”

His closet was filled with either Gray, black and white… He was otherwise known as a sadist for always wearing all things black… He took out a black pants and a black sleeve shirt as usual and effortlessly wore it over his muscular body, shielding his tattoos from everyone… Whenever he's shirtless he looks like the devil but once he has his shirt on he walks like an angel… He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair before picking up his phone and wallet… It was late in the evening already when Damian Stepped outta the mansion and got into his Audi R8 RWD limited edition.. Adrian, who was at the driver's side, turned on the ignition and swiftly drove off… “I want cameras installed in Sama

"Mr. Salvatore anticipated you might need immediate clothing options. These should fit, though a stylist will arrive this afternoon for a proper consultation." "That's... very thoughtful," I said surprised by this consideration from a man who seemed allergic to emotion. "Mr Salvatore is many things, but thoughtless isn't one of them." She smiled and unzipped one bag, revealing a simple but elegant cream blouse and tailored black pants. "Will these do for breakfast? Mr. Salvatore is waiting." Damien was waiting? I glanced at the bedside clock, 7: 30 AM. "Yes, these are lovely. Thank you."

She pause her eyes locked on the makeup table. What did she see? Shit. Did Austen keep the condoms there. ""Where did you get this from?" My eyes scam the paper she is holding. It is a rough sketch of a dagger I made this morning, when Austen went down to make breakfast. The black handle is wrapped with a kinda golden vine,the blade curved to the side with razor teeth. Then the last part which is also the most visible is the red stained moon curved on the blade. I knew I shouldn't have left it lying on the makeup table.

Jade had picked it, something soft but serious, no statement pieces, no sharp shoulder pads, just Celeste, clean and unarmored. Damien stood behind the cameras, just outside the cone of lights. His arms folded, expression unreadable except for the subtle clench of his jaw every time a floor manager moved too close to her line of sight. He didn’t need to say it: One wrong word and I’ll burn this building down.

There is no getting away from him now. While I hate to admit it, I have always found Damon attractive, but something changed during his time at camp. He has gotten taller, probably 6'7" now, which is tall even by Alpha standards. He is still lean, but his muscles have filled out, becoming more defined, and he has a sleeve tattoo on his right arm going up the side of his neck. I can see him stiffen and then turn, searching for me; as if our eyes are magnets, his blue orbs find green ones almost instantly, and I feel the air leave my lungs.

Others hadn’t. Salvatore raised his hand and pointed. “Damon, step forward.” Gasps filled the room. Damon was a tall young man with wide shoulders and clear eyes. He looked shocked. “M-me?” Damon asked. “Yes,” Salvatore said. “You’ve worked hard. You’ve been loyal. And you’ve shown me that you care about this pack.” Damon slowly walked forward. He looked nervous. “I don’t know if I deserve this,” Damon said softly. “You do,” Salvatore replied. “And if anyone wants to challenge it, speak now.”